#i just. my mind is BLOWN LMFAOOO

[pinkpastels113]

i cant believe hailee steinfeld ACTUALLY recorded a verbal porno oh my god.

[p1utofairy]

PAC: “cause every little thing that we do, should be between me & you.” 🕯️💭✨

• what are your person’s dirty thoughts about you?

disclaimer ✩: 18+ mature themes. thank y'all for 1K omg <3 y’all really fw with lil ol’ me?! ily ily ily. 🥹 here’s a lil sumn sumn to celebrate. 🥂 p.s. take what resonates, leave what doesn’t. enjoy!

pile 1 ⭐️ —

“you don't need me, please believe me. this ain't easy, you know i've been feindin'. let me unleash my demons on you.”

“innocent” is what i’m hearing pile 1. your person will underestimate just how much of a hold you have on them lol initially they’ll think that you’re more of the submissive type, but oh are they in for a treat! you hold your cards close to your chest, so it’ll surprise them when this other side of you comes to the surface. i’m hearing “classy in the streets but a freak in the sheets” LOLLL. oh i’m also picking up that some of you may be inexperienced (or may not have as much sexual experience as them) but it won’t come off that way to them...they’ll just think that you’re playing coy and teasing them. your person will be eye-fucking you a lot, i can see them sitting across from you just looking you up and down…locking in on your legs — they’ll really love your legs. “you’re just too good to be true, can’t take my eyes off of you. you’d be like heaven to touch.” just started playing in my mind. awww your person is very sensual 😩 and as much as they want to have you…they’ll be patient. they want to make sure you feel comfortable. all i need by lloyd just came to mind, “get up on it. i’m so horny and i want it. so get up on this, get up on the dick.” LMFAOOOO ik i said they'll be patient but i’m ngl they'll be internally tussling with themselves because they’re used to just getting what they want and people falling for them at the drop of a dime, but you make them work hard for it. i can see you two having a heavy make-out session before they drop you off home and then you pull away and you're like BYE 😘👋☺️ and they'll just be sitting there with their mind racing a mile per minute like FUCK?????? lmfaooooooooooo my gosh you will rile them up so bad pile 1. i feel like there will be a height difference between you two or an age gap. they could be older than you! you give them butterflies <3 they think they’re making you soo nervous/giddy inside (and they are) but you hide it a little better than they do. after every interaction with them you’ll feel all mushy inside hehe and you’ll be able to tell that you make them nervous. they’re just blown away by how beautiful, hot and how well-put together you are. i can see you talking and they’re just watching your mouth move like 👁️👁️ LMFAOOO bye pile 1. they’re feenin’ for you.

pile 2 🪡 —

“i just wanna live in a fantasy. i think we deserve it, right? top all the memories. i’ve ever made in my life.”

oouu this is my pile that doesn't take shit from nobody, okayyyy! hi pile 2 welcome to your reading <3 i can already tell that your person loves how you carry yourself. you do not allow many people to have access to you, and when you do, people can’t help but feel special inside because you have such a ✨big✨ presence. you may not take your person very serious at first. they have youthful/playful energy while you have a very disciplined and mature demeanor. that’s what will make them so attracted to you; how you're always on your shit…there's no cutting corners with you, you do not have time for the games and they will respect that. there's something about your lips that they love. you might have a defined cupid’s bow like rihanna or maybe they just like how cute and soft they are; especially after they just got done kissing you. i see them teasing you and slightly biting your bottom lip after they pull away from the kiss 🥵 ugh don’t count them out pile 2. they might have youthful energy but they're a pro when it comes to seduction lol you both are similar in a sense — you both want something serious and passionate with a hint of playfulness. they'll loveeeee watching you get ready! like i can see you standing in front of a mirror, in a rush to make yourself look presentable and they're just laying back on the bed…giving you the look. just ready to POUNCE. whew pile 2! this person’s love language might also be physical touch, cause they’ll be fighting the urge to squeeze your ass or constantly have their hand on your lower back. you’ll secretly love all their physical affection though hehe.

pile 3 🔪 —

“out of breath, take it slow. i wanna feel it in my soul. yeah, i know you love it when i’m on top. gotta keep it going, baby. don’t stop.”

heyyyy pile 3 🤗 i’m immediately hearing that you have a way with words. you know exactly what buttons to push to get your person aroused mhm! your person knows your worth just as much as you do, they’ll put you on a pedestal and treat you with so much care and devotion. they may have a worship kink? i see a bedroom setting — lightly-dimmed, candles lit, red rose petals on the floor and they’re slowly taking your shoes off for you…their hands trailing up your bare legs slowly 🥵 OKAYYYY pile 3! the sexual attraction is strong in this one wow. that scene from the wolf of wall street where naomi (margot robbie) and jordan (leo dicaprio) are on a date and naomi is giving him the fuck me eyes while saying “aren’t you married?” is coming to mind. now i don’t feel like there’s any third parties/cheating involved…you two just might be into role-playing. like i can see them booking a spontaneous getaway trip for the two of you & y’all just slut each other out and explore each other’s wildest fantasies the whole time 🤭 you both know how and what will make the other person tick; i can see them teasing you a lot in public. a lot of dirty talk in your ear, hand on the back of your neck gently squeezing and kisses. they were never really like this in their previous relationship(s) but you bring out a whole different side of them. agora hills by doja cat just started playing, “kissing and hope they caught us, whether they like or not. i wanna show you off. i wanna show you off.” THEY REALLY DO, PILE 3. they can't believe they bagged you…every-time they look at you they’re in awe.

[signed-loni]

sal with an internet famous gf!! like a conventionally attractive 2000's emo that's popular online :)

Oh.my.fuck. HELLO??? YES???? As an emo, i salute this.

𝐒𝐚𝐥 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟎𝐬 𝐞𝐦𝐨 ���𝐟<𝟑𝟑

⚠️Warnings⚠️: cussing, reader is female

(@/emobunnynya on ig<3)

First of all, Sal didnt know how the FUCK he pulled you

Like, you’re so gorgeous?? And ur style???? And ur super popular online???????

At first, he didnt know you were famous. But then, when you gave him your instagram and tiktok, HOLY SHITBALLS.

He was fuckin blown away

Like, bro legitimately doesn’t go on his socials a lot, so he had no clue you were known by so many people

Whenever he sees your story, hes like “aww my little emo girlfriend 🥰🥰”

And when he saw he was on your close friends??? Oh my.

You wont hear the last of it

He also LOVES when you do videos tgt

He lets you dress him up in your skirts and does dances with you

When anyone is in your comments making fun of him covering his face, you immediately remove them as a follower and block them

People in ur comments all “he doesnt deserve her lmao💀” “LMFAOOO why is bro wearing a mask💀” “bro covers his face” and shit like that

When you do videos together, his favorite one to do with you was the lipstick trend

He was so mesmerized when you would re-apply your lipstick just to kiss his prosthetic again (probably doesn’t take off the kisses)

When the camera panned to him, you couldn’t really tell his expression, but you could see his eyes squinting, meaning he was smiling

Your followers (who loved your guys’ relationship) were all “THE WAY HE SMILES AT HERR😭” “yall are so cute omfg” “The kisses on the mask OMFGGG<333” shit your followers say

He also doesn’t mind getting recognized in public, when your both together and alone.

He gets nervous when he’s by himself and he sees a fan walking towards him wanting to take a picture

He’s lucky when you’re with him tho, he doesn’t mind taking pics with a fan if its with you <333

[uchihaxitachi]

i just found out my dad really loves this particular flavour of ice cream and it’s bloody expensive but now i’d behave like a typical brown dad and hoard the entire household with things liked by him (just ordered 3 tubs of it) cus he’s the same lmfaooo he sees me eyeing shit i like and wham the entire house has it 😭 i also feel that this unsaid way of showing affection is the way fugaku loved his children too. like don’t get me wrong my dad is the reason my confidence is so high cus he’s like “oh my god you are such a princess!” whenever he sees me just existing but yk?! in the uchiha household we got none of that. i just see fugaku hoarding the house with dangos for itachi, and when he comes back from the academy there’s a soft smile on his face. he makes sure to enjoy the said dangos in front of his father at the dinner table. itachi doesn’t say thanks, fugaku doesn’t need a thanks. but the subtle ways of showing affection aren’t amiss.

i think we can see it in the way adult sasuke also shows affection towards sarada. he watches what she likes and just… *proceeds to overdo it* lmfaoo!! 😭 similarly, i see itachi behaving like that with his s/o and his children. itachi would be a little less stunted when it comes to openly expressing love but he still portrays it moreso through his actions.

like i see dad itachi watching his daughter do some painting & suddenly there is a canvas stand, and some paint, and some crayons, some colour pencils & an entire painting corner. she blinked, she knows dad saw her paint & just grins, clicking a picture of it & probably sending itachi on the phone like.

her: (attachment) thanks dad

itachi: You’re welcome Sweetheart.

yeah itachi types like a full blown boooooring corporate dude on emails 😔 proper punctuations, proper emojis. he would use the “😃” emoji when he wants to laugh. LMFAOOOO 😭

anyway, there’s so much in my mind when i think of domesticated uchihas & how they behave in day to day slice of life shenanigans and i’d elaborate later on that kay bye mwah

[megamindsecretlair]

I was wondering how you stay consistent with all the fics you be posting. Gurl give us the tea. You dropped like four back to back.

Lmfaooo, yall making me feel like im a fic addict 😭🤣🤣

See, what you do is meditate for 2 hours straight, praying on your muse to beam ideas and writing straight to your skull. Grab an acorn, a candle (your favorite scent), red twine, and a bottle of henny. And make a circle...lmfaooo jk jk.

TL;DR: my mind never shuts up 🫠 never turns off, never stops running, and that energy has to go somewhere, okay 😭

I wish I could take all the credit. I am the one writing it. But I have a close group of friends who let me vent out my ideas or give me ideas on how to improve. They listen to my nonsense, love yall so gd much 😗 @planetblaque @westside-rot @babybratzmaraj .

Other times, the ask is just so detailed, so rich, that it sparks some inspo and I get to writing. I am so in love with the creativity yall have on here. Completely blown away by these ideas you request!

It also helps that I went to film school and was taught how to think visually. You don't have to go to school for that, you just have to expand how you currently think about scenes.

Most times, as mentioned, my brain doesn't shut up. Even when I'm sleeping. There's this running commentary in my mind where I'm constantly turning over fics in my head. I think about scenes, I think about dialogue, I think about sex positions. Half the time, I'm scatterbrained irl because I'm too busy fucking in my head 🤣🤣

I write in my head, if that makes sense. I have these loose scenes in my head that I kind of play around with. I attack the scene from multiple angles trying to think of what sounds better.

Soo, when I sit down to write ive already done half the mental battle. I've already thought about the characters, the scenes, the motivations, the positions. It's just a matter of sitting down and writing it and it flows. I re-read my own writing all the time. But *way* after I've written it and moved on.

There's still moments where I have to pause and think about what comes next. Theres still times where I have to picture what tf is happening 🤣 or what's being said. Or what they're feeling at the moment.

Truth is, I just like to write. I've been writing since I was 11. It wasn't until I re-joined Tumblr at age 30 that I fell back in love with writing. I always loved it. But at a low point in my life, I felt hopeless that no one would ever want to read my writing. I thought I should've just quit altogether.

But by writing on here, I discovered that writing is for ME. If im having fun, then i know you will. I wont lie and say its not scary. I post overnight because I dont want the anxiety of seeing comments and reblogs trickle in 🤧 but the one rule I had for posting my writing, was to write for me. Write for the little girl who thought she couldnt. Write for the little weirdo who loves marvel and has anxiety and constantly feel like im being rejected. Thats who i write for. Thank God I didn't quit 😍🥹 I never would've met any of you. I never would've grown as a writer.

Being here with all of you, sharing my writing, seeing your reactions makes my fn day every day 😭 it's because of YOU that I felt confident enough to write a book.

I didn't get here by accident, I just write. And write often. And I read often. I learn from every single person that posts on here. I learn from all the feedback you give me.

My brain ought to do something useful since it doesn't know how to sit the fuck down 😩😩😩

Sorry this was long? Hope this helped? Feel free to ask more? Idkidk. Its still weird talking about myself. Thanks for this ask though 😗😗😗

[mcclickin]

i wrote the anthony black x tristan da silva fic i was talking about ... this is my first fic so sorry in advance lmfaooo

Anthony reached up into the kitchen cabinet and pulled out a large bowl. For him, every Sunday was the same: watch film, work out, then go home and play video games. However, this Sunday was different. It was Tristan’s birthday, and Anthony wanted to make him a small personal-sized cake to celebrate. 

Ever since the day that Tristan first walked into Summer League practice with the Magic, he had been on Anthony’s mind. His dark curly hair, shimmering green eyes, charismatic personality and strong work ethic made Anthony admire him both on and off the court, and it wasn’t long before the admiration became a full blown crush that Anthony couldn’t get rid of. 

Which is why Tristan’s cake had to be perfect. 

The two players were already friends, constantly cracking jokes with each other during practice, but Anthony thought that this cake, if done correctly, would be a good way to get Tristan to consider going out with him. 

He pulled his phone out, found the recipe that he’d saved, and put all of the ingredients on the kitchen counter. It was time to get to work. 

Anthony tied his hair up and took a deep breath. He’d never baked anything from scratch before, but he figured that it couldn't be that hard and felt that Tristan definitely deserved the extra effort that making this would take. 

“Extra effort” turned out to be a sheer understatement, as what appeared to be an hour-long recipe ended up taking Anthony two hours, then an additional 50 minutes to clean up the total mess that his kitchen became afterwards. None of that mattered to Anthony once he thought of seeing Tristan’s adorable smile after receiving the cake. 

The cake was small enough to fit in an old to-go container that Anthony had lying around, so he packed it up and drove over to Tristan’s apartment. During the drive, his mind swirled with thoughts about whether or not Tristan may like his cake. Normally, he was his usual calm and confident self around Tristan, but this particular occasion felt different, as if there was more at stake. Anthony began to fidget, biting his lip over and over again until he reminded himself of how kind Tristan was: he would never purposefully try to hurt Anthony’s feelings, no matter how bad the cake may look or taste. 

He got out of his car, walked to Tristan’s apartment, and knocked on the door with the cake in his other hand. While he waited for Tristan to answer the door, Anthony considered leaving the cake at the door and going back home, but he figured that since he was already at Tristan’s, he might as well go all the way through with his plan. 

Tristan opened the door wearing a sleeveless shirt that showed off his tan muscular arms, which immediately caught Anthony’s attention.

“Hey man, what’s up?” Tristan smiled.

“Um, happy birthday. I uh made this for you,” Anthony nervously replied while handing Tristan the cake.

The thought of Anthony remembering his birthday and bringing him a gift made Tristan smile even harder, which flustered Anthony more. Tristan opened the container, revealing a small white cake with “Happy BDay” messily written on it in blue icing. 

“This is great. Thank you for this, I really appreciate it,” Tristan said.

After seeing Tristan this happy, Anthony knew that this was the perfect moment. Now or never.

“Wait, one more thing. Tristan, I.. I like you, and I’m sorry if this ruins your birthday or the way you see me but I just couldn’t wait any longer and–,” Anthony stammered, trying to cover his face with his hair to hide his embarrassment. 

“Don’t worry about it, I’ve always thought you were cute too,” Tristan calmly interrupted, bringing himself closer to Anthony. He stared into Anthony’s big dark eyes with a soft smile while Anthony stared back. Seconds later, Tristan pulled Anthony all the way in for a kiss while one hand played with Anthony’s curls and the other held his cake. 

At that moment, the two of them didn’t care about anything else in the world. They had each other, and that was all that mattered. 

[bonesandthebees]

okay so like i was gonna just start on this tonight and get the general ideas down and finish this when i was Awake and Functioning but then i started rambling so uhhh jazz handss

take me describing the diff energies ur fics give off, i am sorry if this is uncomprehensible fjwaewf (is that even a word?? incomprehensible? ye-)

through a glass divine: DEFFFF rainy day vibes, the au feels very Elegant to me even though glass!wilbur himself is very much not, when I read glass I get the same vibes as being in a car /pos, it's comforting but can get intense at times, sometimes with no warning. like one minute your head is against the glass (heh, pun unintended lol), and ur looking out at the streetlamps, the next the breaks are SLAMMED and u get whacked against the seatbelt lmfaoooo (this is all /pos !! i love the angst lol)

world forgetting: FOGGG, that's the first thought that pops into my head, things are unclear first and it's a little eerie but there's also something comforting about it (i will use this word a lot bc . well ur writing is comforting hehehe), the first half of wf was very exciting, it reminded me of when i used to have my mcu marathons, edge of my seat, shoving popcorn into my face, and just glee, the first few chapters with wf especially with the combat made me so fucking giddy lmfaooo i had so much fun reading it, the second half was a lot more calm and melancholy, it was defff sitting on the couch while it rains outside vibes, like MM the hurt comfort?? give me a blanket and a pillow to squeeze bc hot damnn

stars and their children: stars man . hooweeee, this fic was binging a 12 season show vibes, you invest a lot into it and wow the emotional damage?? for real. this fic was late night rants at sleepovers, theorizing n coming up with silly conspiracy theories (i think this was when i really started reading the asks, so for me it has a lot of those vibes tied to it), when i read stars… i feel a lot of Awe. it feels big, it feels important, it also feels like im reading a very fancy novel from a very big library, like i feel like i've stepped into a massive multi-tiered library and plucked my favourite book from its shelf, i can imagine the hardcover being absolutely gorgeous, it gives me the same vibes as getting assigned a book to read in class and having your mind blown /pos from it, like "damn i understand why they make us read this bc wow"

(fun fact i have ur ao3 page bookmarked on my toolbar lmaoooo)

honey and tangerines: well . this one just gives me island and coastal vibes lolll u described them very well, but okay from a reading perspective? besides indie movie lmao. i'd say… hanging out with a friend you haven't seen in a while. it's familiar, it's bittersweet, it's thrilling. honey and tangerines gives me the vibes of doing something youve been wanting to for awhile but were always too scared to. pushing your boundaries. it's all those classic "finally living life vibes", staying out till 3 am, finally getting around to decorating your room, going on a roadtrip. when i read honey and tangerines, it feels like i'm experiencing life. all the prev fics either feel like novels or movies, but hats feels like life

what the water gave me: ngl when i read this i just feel such pure emotion that i cry like idek how to explain it man. it's so all encompassing /pos it does give me staying up late in my room with fairy lights vibes though, dunno why. just gives off that same warm energy

A DUSTY TOMB OMGGOJEAWE i need to reread that anyways

a dusty tomb: straight off the bat, playing dnd. dnd is so much fun and i have so many happy memories from it and a dusty tomb defff gives off those vibes, chaos, freeing, family. it also gives off the vibe of finding a piece of old writing in a buried notebook and reading it and going "wtf?? when did i write this this is amazing" maybe that's just bc it feels like u read my mind writing it lmao it's perfect i adore it so much and i have reread it an unholy amount of times, i just get the vibes of sitting criss cross on the floor and reading it, it's not necessarily a comfy position but it's enjoyable nonetheless, just a happy moment for oneself, it feels like giving yourself a treat, self care, all of that good stufff

no time confounds me: def feels like watching a tv show /pos, it def feels like smth i'd put on w my stepmom or my birth mom and just absolutely fucking Vibe to it bro, that fic is suchhh a vibe, i'd sink into my couch and get HOOKED, it also ofc brings w it all the vibes of just where i live LMAO, and the motorcycling reminds me of my dad <333 i miss motorcycling with him dawggg it's so much fun, but yeahhh. all the vibes described in the fic just make me want to go out for a hike in a forest lmao, i love it. also hot chocolate. this fic is defff drinking hot chocolate vibes

nocturnal animals: ooohh this one is defff late night vibes, working late on hw and looking out ur window and just taking a moment to appreciate the stars n stuff, also windy day vibes, this def feels like a novel my friend would shove at me to read and i'd be like "brooo i dont even LIKE vampires" and theyd be like "no bro just trust me" and then i'd be really bored one day so i'd pick it up and then get addicted . and then in this hypothetical series that has like a billion books i'd go to the library and borrow them all and binge them in a week lmfao, i love this fic sm ngl, i would proudly display this fic on my bookshelf (well i mean, i would literally display all of ur fics on my bookshelf KING i would have a shelf dedicated to ur fics 100%)

okay… i think those are all the main fics, there're a couple more that i've read but i am . getting really really reallyyy tired and idek if any of this is comphrensible lmfaooo 😭 😭 😭

i hope u enjoyed bee <333 tldr: i love ur writing and i have core memories attached to all of these fics and they are all special to me in their own way <33

ohhhh these are so cool to read icy (sorry it took me so long to respond I've been so busy lately)

lmao love all the drama in glass being compared to a car braking super suddenly. rainy car drives is definitely not the vibe I think it has in my head but that's super sweet to imagine :)

comparing stars to a Big Fancy Book makes me so happy thank you so much. I have this absolutely gorgeous fancy version of Dune with a stunning cover and I always imagine something kind of similar as the 'cover' for stars in my head so i love that you imagine that too

in contrast you and i feel the exact same about honey and tangerines. it's definitely that kind of bittersweet reconciling friendship vibe. saying it feels like life means so much thank you <33 thats exactly what I was going for

to me what the water gave me feels like swimming in a warm tropical ocean at night which might be a bit on the nose but yeah that's what I think of. but fairy lights in a room sounds so nice I love that

awww I love that idea for dusty tomb. just rereading something nostalgic and wonderful and feeling so comforted by it. that makes me smile a lot to imagine :)

hot chocolate and watching a tv show YEAHHHH you get it that's exactly what i was going for from no time confounds me. also that's so funny that you mention motorcycling with your dad bc that's where my descriptions of riding motorcycles comes from. my dad always used to pick me up from school on his motorcycle when I was a little kid, it was so much fun

oooo windy day for nocturnal animals is interesting but I love it. also god you saying it feels like a series with dozens of books reminds me of this vampire series i read in middle school that had like 10 books it's absolutely nothing like nocturnal animals but now I'm having a nostalgia trip thinking about it lol

thank you icy this was so sweet to read :)

[prince-of-red-lions]

GUYS OMG I JUST SAW MY FIRST MUSICAL. my Highschool did a Percy Jackson musical and OH MY GOSH I was BLOWN away. now you get to hear about it (please keep in mind I have only read the first book, which is what the musical was anyways but it was YEARS ago and I don’t think I even completely finished it SOOO. also spoilers ig?)

Percy did so well and his solos and singing was so beautiful and he really portrayed his emotions so clearly and he was SO FUNNY FKTJRKWNDNFNNE LIKE OMG IF IT WASNT A THEATRE ID BE ROLLING

Grover did a fabulous job as well! He was also incredibly funny and I just love the little sidekick bestie vibes he’s got he’s so silly :)

ANNABETH omg. she did so well! she really got her emotions out there and her need to impress her mom and WOW THE FIGHT SCENE AT MEDUSA’S HOUSE WITH PERCY OR WHATEVER it was so intense! she slayed SO HARD and she was also a FANTASTIC DANCER YEA GIRLBOSSSS

luke! omg luke! HE DID AMAZINGGG I LOVED HIM HE ROCKED THAT ROLE SO WELL. I forgot he was the lightning thief so the betrayal scene was SHOCKING (HAHAHA IM SO FUNNY)!!! I really loved how he did him he completely fooled me with the friendly camp counselor or whatever he was I forgot JDJJSJRFKSJ BUT HE BLEW ME AWAY I LOVED THE FIGHT SCENE WITH HIM AND PERCY

so they had a scene and whatever with the farrier in the underworld AAAAHAHA THE FARRIER WAS SO AWESOME. SHE SLAYED THAT SO DANG HARD AND HER MUSICAL NUMBER WAS MY FAVORITE. THE REST OF THE ENSEMBLE SLAYED THE CHOREOGRAPHY IN THAT SCENE AND I WAS JAMMING ALONGGGG‼️‼️ it was such a funny scene and I hold it dear!!

HADES ISTG HADES. he had SUCH A DRAMATIC SCENE AND I CHEERED SO LOUD (dw everyone else did too) and he ROCKED IT SO WELL he perfected that snarky antagonist that doesn’t really care but still has motive and bonus of being a pain in the butt! and he drawled SO WELL I KID YOU NOT HE HAD ME CAPTIVATED. I LOVED his part!!!

dude… Poseidon… LMFAOOO IM DEADD. they had him portrayed as some dude in a Hawaiian shirt THE ACTOR DUDE I WAS ROLLING HE WAS SO FREAKING HILARIOUS. he kinda had that low chill surfer dude voice and he had THE FUNNIEST BITS especially at the end when he reunited with Percy and his mom. I love that take on his character. I’m PRETTY sure he’s not like that in the book 😂😂

And Percy’s mom was awesome too! her singing was GORGEOUS and I loved her moments with Percy :) not much to say other than SHE DID AMAZING‼️

BRO I CANT GET OVER THE TRIO THO. their bits were HILARIOUS and they definitely held those “stupid besties that r probably doomed but we’re rocking this anyway” vibe that ANY good book/movie main group holds AHDHEJRIE THEY WERE HILARIOUS. Dude Percy and annabeth did amazing together and Grover was so SPUNKY YES and the ENSEMBLE THEMSELVES AAAAAA I CANTTTTT ESPECIALLY IN THE UNDERWORLD SCENE THEY ALL HAD SPUNKY OUTFITS AND THE DANCING WAS AWESOME!!!! THE CAMP HALF BLOOD SCENES WERE ALSO SO COOL AND IM RUNNING OUT OF COMPLIMENTS BUT LMFAO THEY HAD A BIT WHERE THEY SANG ABOUT THEIR GOD PARENT AND ALL OF THEM JUST SLIGHTLY INSULTING THEM TO FULL ON INSULTS WAS BEAUTIFUL.

overall, this was a great experience for me! I could really tell all the love and passion the students/actors had for this and I appreciate that they wanted to share with me and the audience members! It was a magical thing and I wish them all a FABULOUS JOB because they DESERVE IT‼️‼️‼️💖💖💖💖💖 they really made my whole week and I might even consider joining theatre too :D

I’m sorry this was such a huge rant but I HAD to let it out! if you got this far, thank you for listening :) I’m truly insane 😂 I wish you all a lovely day/night!! 💖💖

[mistlekissy]

haven’t thrown up since third grade ???? what are you in fourth grade ????? like explain please wtf are these super powers i throw up once a year AT LEAST

LMFAOOO well first of all i have emetophobia<3 throwing up is the last thing on my mind, i think i'd have a full blown panic attack 😀 so my body just refuses to throw up

[e-n-t-r-o-p-i-c-f-r-o-g]

This post has me thinking things again... and I'm notoriously a rambler...

AU: What if he did write fanfic during his second banishment? I'm just gonna fire out whatever comes to mind for what he'd write about. Here we go:

- The other gods (could be stories of glory, mundaneity, or maybe stories of a hypothetical fall from grace for one of them. I think he'd add in a redemption arc, too, because it is in his nature to not wish ill will. It'd probably help Xie Lian feel less alone in the early years 🥺)

- Wu Ming (a lot of what ifs. What if he lived? What if he found his beloved? What if Xie Lian took the sword into himself like he planned? Many thoughts here)

- I wonder if he ever dove headfirst into an actual story and became obsessed to the point of trying to emulate it himself in some way. That could be cool. Though, I don't think he could hold onto any kind of good thing for long enough to finish it...maybe that's why he'd want to write fanfic so at least he could come up with a resolution...

uhhh, my brain is slowly losing steam.

- I think Xie Lian would think a lot about what would have been the "right choice" in handling Xianle. Maybe he'd write about it.

- I wonder if his stories would draw an audience. Maybe they'd get blown away by a gust of wind only for a merchant to sell them off. Maybe he leaves author's notes.

"My hand is taking a while to grow back compared to last time. I've been writing with my left, so it's been slow going. My calligraphy is nowhere near publishable quality, but I'll be back on track soon!"

Bonus points if this is how he regains a following for the first time in hundreds of years lmfaooo

I'm just having fun now ahahahah I'll stop

Edit: I HAVE A HORRIBLE ONE OMFG?!?!?

Claw marks on the inside of that fucking coffin. That tell a story. Idek which one, though if it's about Wu Ming and you make it a classic coffin rescue fic, but with THAT TWIST??? Get outta town, that's so horrible (and juicy).

Xie Lian would make a great ao3 author, on the grounds of he’s been living through the author’s curse for 800 years

[wheezeasfuck]

ever since i saw that video on tiktok saying that ryan and shane are the eye avatars i literally CANNOT stop thinking about bfu and tma crossover, it’s so outlandish but it’s also not and i love it

[no-droids]

Out of a Trillion

gif credit: @bestintheparsec​

Part Fifteen of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 12.6K

Warnings: uhhhh so there is a bit of SMUT in this one, not too much and I imagine if you’ve made it this far then that won’t be too big of a deal LMFAOOO uh some ANGST and my attempt at HURT/COMFORT and also violence/blood/injury description, so look out for that!

A/N: I started writing this before the season finale aired and I know we all want a bit of goodness and softness after it, but hopefully this will be okay!  I’ll start working on the next part tonight

***

Everything changes and yet somehow nothing does.  

From that point on, it’s like… like you’re both just suspended in this perpetual state of wondering, waiting for the other shoe to drop.  You know he said it’s up to you, but what the fuck?  Look whenever you want?  That’s way too much fucking pressure, he’s out of his mind.  You’re not equipped to handle that, who does he think you are?  Someone that can just… decide things?

And it’s not like you’re afraid of the commitment, or that you don’t want to look.  You do, but every single time a moment comes, it just never… feels right.  You don’t know what you’re waiting for, what feeling or meaning you’re expecting to magically present itself to you, but you can’t shake the idea that there should be more to it than just randomly deciding to open your eyes at some point, shouldn’t there?  Din said there was no ceremony, nothing fancy, and he gave you permission to look because he said he’s not allowed to ask outright, whatever that means.  It’s a standing offer because you guess he isn’t allowed to prompt it for some reason, but unfortunately, that leaves you in just about the shittiest position possible.  Now everything falls to you—initiation, execution, and consequence—and Maker knows you’ve never been that great making decisions under pressure.

But you do want to look.  Sort of.

Sort of.  Because… well, this probably won’t make that much sense, but you’re afraid.  Mostly for him.  What if he’s making a mistake?  It sounds stupid, but you’re afraid of what this means for him, the sheer perpetuity of this decision he’s now expecting you to make for the both of you.  This isn’t your creed, not yet, and you feel like there’s still so much to learn.  Not only about the Mandalorians and his culture, but about him.  To know is to love, and so you’ve taken to asking any nonsensical question you can think of whenever he’s around.  Though you weren’t expecting it at first, you’ve learned that he’ll always give you some sort of an answer.  Some of the highlights include:

“How old are you?”  (“I don’t know.  Probably mid-forties, but there’s no way to tell anymore.”)

“You don’t know your birthday?”  (No, I… think it was in the winter.”)

“What’s your last name?”  (“Djarin.”)

“Do you have any freckles?  Or moles, or birthmarks?”  (“No, none that I’ve ever noticed.”)

“Do you cut your own hair?”  (“Yes, but it’s been awhile.”)

“Do you have dimples?”  (“I don’t smile in mirrors.”)

“Are your earlobes attached or detached?”  (“What kind of question is that?”)

And so forth.

He also gives you so many fucking opportunities to look.  One right after the other.  You used to think Din was incredibly trusting with how often and voluntarily he decided to take his helmet off around you—he didn’t wait a single day once he first felt your hands on his skin to take it off in your presence.  You remember being blown away by his unexpected willingness to part with it after hearing so many tales of the Mandalorians from Kuill; stunned by the ever-present ability to just open your eyes at any moment and that’s all it would ever take.  One simple movement—life-altering, and so easy.

Now you find it nearly impossible, muscle memory just won’t allow it to happen naturally.  And yet somehow, avoiding it is like stepping around land mines.  He doesn’t trick you—he doesn’t set it up, he doesn’t surprise you or anything, but he’s… less careful.  When the kid is awake, Din acts normal—he walks around fully armored, he goes on hunts and returns a few days later with a quarry, teaches you more self-defense techniques in the cleared out hull while the kid watches and giggles at your pain from the safety of his floating crib.  But when the baby goes to sleep, he’s taken to lounging with the helmet off.  He only used to remove it to eat, sleep, or… do other things with you, but he never used to take it off just… because.  Now he does.  Now he’s less careful about darkness, less strict about how much light he allows to touch him.

Now he shares every single meal he can with you, sitting just off to the side so you’ll never see him on accident but providing the free exercise thereof should you ever decide to seek it out purposefully.  Now he interrupts you in the middle of your complaining about the bruises on your knuckles just to lift the rim of his helmet the slightest bit, lean down and give you a quick kiss, and then lower it back into position again before you can even catch a glimpse of the lips you only recognize by touch.  Now he keeps the light on when he goes to take a shower, he leaves the door cracked.

It’s starting to give you heart palpitations, you swear.  At one point, he lets you to see the entire back of his head and it nearly launches you into a fucking crisis.

It’s the middle of the night and he just got up from bed to use the restroom.  He’s quiet enough not to wake you on the way over, but then across the hull and with his back to you, Din flicks the light on in the small bathroom without closing the door.  Immediately rousing you after being so accustomed to the pitch blackness, you lift your head from the warmth of your shared pillow just enough to blearily make out the sight of him leaning a hand up against the wall and dropping his head down, and it takes you a second to realize that it’s actually him.

Soft, dark brown locks ending at his collar but somehow looking longer than you ever imagined when you’ve run your fingers through them.  Cascading in shaggy, natural curls—tall, broad shouldered and trim waisted, naked as the day he was born.  Your heart starts to squeeze in your chest and it just never stops, and for the second time in your life, you feel like he woke you up in the middle of the night just to show you one of the most beautiful things the universe ever decided to hide.  There are trillions of people in this galaxy and how many of them have ever seen a sight that would compare?  He’s just a man, you don’t think a single person would bat an eye.  But to you, he’s… his own monument.  Constructed in honor of everything dazzling that happens to lie just underneath something else.  A breathtaking view, even from this angle, that could only ever mean something to you.

Would you ever be able to know him?  No, that’s not phrased right.  What you mean is that… over the course of all your time together, you remember thinking that if he ever took his helmet off, he could walk right by you and you’d never be able to tell the difference.  He could be anybody.  There are trillions of people in this galaxy and how many of them have the same features?  Brown hair, brown eyes, sunkissed skin that only one person is allowed to kiss, not even the sun.  Would you ever be able to know him?

Staring at his back in the blissful silence of hyperspace and feeling like the Maker himself is letting you in on one of his proudest secrets, some wild thought suddenly occurs to you that… you think you would.  Somehow.

You can’t explain it and you’d never be able to prove it, but you feel like if you lined up every single person in this galaxy shoulder to shoulder, all however many trillions of them there are, then you could walk the entire length of it and somehow come to a stop right where he’s standing.  Every single time.  You feel like you could do it in the pitch black.  You could do it with your eyes closed.

And, he must just be so gorgeous.  Maybe not in a traditional sense (or maybe in one, you’d have no way of knowing), but mostly in just… the rawest sense imaginable.  Not like how symmetry and straight lines are gorgeous, but how a mountain is gorgeous.  Rocky, dangerous, steep, the product of constant conflict between two immovable sides.  He’s got scars littering his body, one of which you remember giving him yourself with a cauterizer on his lower back.  He holds himself like his shoulders could tell their own story if anyone ever asked them; built to endure, weighed down and made strong with a collection of burdens he chooses to strap to them, steel or otherwise.

You don’t want to close your eyes once Din slowly turns around to look at you, but it happens anyways and you’ve never been so disappointed in your own cowardice.

But then, in a way, it could just be your own self-preservation instincts taking over.  No matter how stunning and life changing the spectacle would be, why would anyone ever stare directly at a supernova?  For so long, you’ve told yourself that his face is something you shouldn’t ever see on principle, but in a way, you suppose it’s fair he put this decision on you because he always has, even from the very beginning.  He trusted you to keep your eyes closed for months on end and you never had a problem with it, so why is it so hard to open them now that he’s given you permission?

A couple weeks of that, and you start to worry that you’re unintentionally rejecting him.

It’s the last fucking thing you want, but how can you avoid it?  Din is… different, he notices.  He’s made a living off of finding things that inherently don’t want to be found—he knows all too well what secrecy looks and sounds like, he’s quick and observant and you don’t stand a single fucking chance against him in all the years of his practice.

But strangely, for as often as you feel like you can figure out what he’s thinking without ever seeing his face—realizing what his intentions are ahead of time and not feeling slighted when he phrases things a certain way or just chooses not to speak at all—you never truly realized how much that extended back to you.

He knows you, too.  He told you so.

For some reason, you didn’t even consider the possibility of it working just as well the other way around.  That you could choose to stay silent, and he’d know why.  You feel like the mystery of him just eclipses you in every single way that you don’t consider even yourself much of anything, much less something else to be contemplated and understood.  While you wouldn’t necessarily qualify the conflict as not being ready to commit, he seems more than willing to respect it regardless and nothing about the way he treats you or interacts with you changes.  Normally you’d say it’s like he forgot the whole thing ever happened, but it’s almost the exact opposite.  Like he was just naturally expecting it from you.

Are you truly so predictable, you wonder?  He said you’d say no.  Was he right?  You’re not saying no, you just… can’t remember the word for yes right now.  It’s right there on the tip of your tongue and the harder you work for it, the more frustrated you become with your own inability to find it.

But, instead of waiting, you think Din just decides to continue the conversation with the promise to come back to you when you finally figure it out.

Sometimes, especially when he’s gone, you find yourself thinking about what moment you’d choose, if you could.  Since you can never seem to find the right one naturally, how would it all go if you could construct everything yourself?  Where would it be?  Naboo?  No, that’s too cheesy.  One thing you and Din both have in common is your practicality, your respective propensities for wanting to tackle one thing at a time and not needing frills attached to something in order to find a deep connection to it, a personal value to it.  You weren’t even bothered when he didn’t claim you as a girlfriend to Peli, that’s how reasonable you used to be about labels.  Now you’re your own antithesis, trying to conjure meaning where there isn’t any just so you don’t feel like you’re the one who’s ripping it away.  You want this decision to feel as permanent as it is.  You want it to be a happy thing, something that happens when you’re both so in love that you can’t bear to have metal separating you any longer.

You think… you’ll just know it when the time comes.

***

“I have to leave,” comes Din’s hushed voice through the darkness, and even though it’s the first thing either of you have said in hours, it sounds frustrated.  Like it’s been bothering him for awhile and he’s just now finally telling you.  “I… fuck, I can’t stay here, I should’ve left a long time ago.”

You whine softly into the pitch black, turning your head into the pillow and curling your fingers into his hair.  “But it’s still so early…”

“It’s mid-afternoon,” he groans back, dropping his forehead down against your skin and breathing hot air along it.  “We’ve been parked here for hours, I don’t know how you can sleep so long.”

“I’m not sleeping,” you pout, before gently dragging your nails down his scalp and feeling his whole body shudder with it.  “Earlier I was.”

“Mhm,” he murmurs, leaning down to give you one last long, slow kiss.  You sigh when his tongue comes out and glides soft and hot against your lips, tightening your grip on his hair.

But soon he pulls away, lifting the covers from over his head and pushing up from between your spread legs.  “This one shouldn’t take long,” he gruffs, planting both palms next to your head and kissing you once more in the darkness, dipping his tongue into your mouth this time.  You moan softly and taste yourself on him, moving to wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, but he breaks the kiss and leans back before you can, preemptively avoiding the possibility of getting lost in it.  “I’ll be back around dawn.”

You’ve known it was coming for hours now, so you’re able to play it off way better this time around.  “Okay,” you breathe softly, dragging your palms up his bare chest as he lifts himself tall over your body.  The slight disappointment underneath is so masterfully hidden, you’re almost positive you’re going to get away with it.  “Be safe.  Please.”

But then… well.  Bounty hunter.

Din pauses for a moment like that in between your open legs, letting you slowly slide your hands down his ribs and over the lines of his stomach.  You wait for him to move, find his clothes so you can get around and make some food, wake the kid up from his nap in an hour or so.  Can’t stay in bed all day, no matter how much you wish you could.

Only, he still hasn’t moved and you start to become concerned.  “Din?”

But then he suddenly groans like he just can’t help it, grabbing both of your spread legs and easily lifting them up.  You make a sound of confusion as he maneuvers them until they’re pressed together and draped over one of his shoulders, and then his hips drop and push forward to slide himself thick and perfect into your blazing hot cunt.

Still drenched and swollen from cumming in his mouth so many times earlier, you gasp and he just groans louder, a ragged thing scraping out of his throat while you struggle through blind and unexpected euphoria to reach him.  But you can’t—Din hugs your legs tight to his chest and settles in just like this, turning his head to drag soft lips and a hot tongue over your ankle before he starts fucking you.  Right up against your g-spot, with your whole lower body in the way and preventing you from slowing him down.

You just have to clap both hands over your mouth just to keep quiet since you can’t reach him.  You feel his teeth sink into the meat of your calf, hips pistoning far beyond your reach and it feels so fucking good that you almost don’t hear his gritted words against your skin.

“I have to go,” he groans, repeating it over and over until his voice begins to pull tight and it just sounds like a plea.  “I have to go, I have to go, I h—have to… h-have to go, I have to, I have to, I have…”

*** 

When Din finally steps foot out of the ship, fumbling with his rifle and cursing quietly through the modulator, it’s the middle of the night some twelve hours later.

***

Steady…

Steady………

Fire.

—and… you blink as bark splinters.

Did you…?  You look down at the blaster in your hand and then back to the ginormous charred tree trunk for a few seconds, wondering if you’re just seeing shit.

No, it’s real.  You actually fucking did it.  You…

… hit the target.

All of a sudden, your ecstatic giggle echoes loudly throughout the foresty autumn wonderland around you, reds and oranges and yellows crunching under your feet while you start to dance.

“Hey!  See that, bug!?”  You call out, shoving the blaster into your waistband and shimmying up to your enthralled audience of one, who just so happens to be smiling as wide as you are as he’s scooped up into your arms.  “I hit the target, I hit the target,” you sing, beginning to sway the baby back and forth as he squeals, laughing while you bounce him.  “No demon powers necessary, little man!  I figured it out, I just have to use one hand instead of two.  You can retire now, you’re the right age for—”

A twig snaps in the distance somewhere to your left, and you quickly spin around while reaching for the blaster behind your back.

Except all you see is a blue Twi’lek standing out amongst all the fall foliage, his hands cuffed behind his back and stumbling a few steps at a time while a considerably taller suit of beskar shoves him forward.  You relax and immediately turn to look down at the ground, trying to bite your lip so you don’t smile too hard while they both approach.  You did it—finally, you did it, you’re on top of the fucking universe right now.

You wait for them to pass by and move up the open metal ramp to the carbonite chamber, but then Din apparently decides to pause when he’s directly behind you, yanking the quarry to a sudden halt.  

You know you should probably turn around to address them, but you can’t hide the happiness from your expression, it’s way too obvious.  Though, after a moment, you decide to shyly turn to face the two men while continuing to bounce the baby in your arms, hoping that his and your matching expressions of excitement aren’t too terribly inappropriate right now.

Din looks from you to the splintered bark on the tree, and then back to you again, before slowly tilting the helmet up in a way that feels… proud of you.

“Congratulations,” he finally says, and you can hear the genuine smile hidden in the modulated drawl.

“Thank you,” you beam up at him, feeling the blood rush to your cheeks.  “Was pretty awesome.”

“I’m sorry I missed it,” he tells you, and you don’t know why, but the tone of his voice makes you go so warm.  It’s not like he’s openly flirting with you, but coupled with your giddiness and sounding like that in front of a bounty he caught in record time, it just makes your heart fucking throb for him.

“It’s alright,” you murmur, shuffling your feet through the crunchy leaves below and trying to play it as cool as possible.  You have company.  “I’ll be able to do it again.”

“Let’s see it, then.”  He tips the helmet over at the tree, and you look between him and the unfamiliar quarry for a second, not used to Din just… ignoring their existence entirely for you.  It’s not like the Twi’lek has said anything or inserted himself into the situation at all, but still.  Din has one hand latched onto the cuffs behind his back to prevent him from booking it, but other than that, it’s like he’s pretending he’s not even there.

“Uh…”  You immediately feel yourself get nervous.  “I can… try.”

He nods one single time in silent encouragement, and you slowly turn to face the tree once more.  The kid stays cradled in your arm while you reach for the blaster in your waistband, removing it and using your longest finger to flick the safety off with a practiced fluidity.  Then, extending it out in front of you and taking advantage of your newfound strategy of only firing with one hand, you line up the sight and pull the trigger.

You wish you could say it hits.  It would be so fucking cool and impressive if you hit the target like that, wouldn’t it?  But it doesn’t hit.  It misses, like usual.  Miserably.  And then an amused snort comes from behind you.

“Right stormtrooper, you are—” you hear an unfamiliar accent begin to snark, but the rest of it turns into a garbled howl the second Din jerks his elbow back to slam it in his face.

You whip around just in time to see a cascade of blood pouring down blue lips and sharp teeth—holy fuck.  You gasp and take a step backwards with the kid, not horrified by the sudden display of violence (not after Din spent an hour teaching you how to do that, too) but not quite expecting it at that moment, either.  But then, well… that’s the second time he broke a quarry’s nose for addressing you with disrespect.  There was that other one he choked, you’re pretty sure—though you can’t remember exactly what initiated that.

Din yanks the bounty up the ramp without another word, leaving both you and the kid there to process while he shoves him through the hull and towards the carbonite chamber none too kindly.  However, by the time he seals the quarry to his fate and eventually makes his way back to you, you just… 

Fuck, you feel so stupid.

You shouldn’t even bother, what’s the point?  All that practice and nothing to show for it.  If you can’t even hit a stationary target with the pressure of others watching, what makes you think you’ll have any hope at all in a situation where you actually need to shoot?  Are they gonna stand still for you?  Are they gonna be as wide as a fucking treetrunk?  You’re horribly embarrassed, so downtrodden in the face of a cruel taunt that you don’t even want to look at Din when he steps in front of you.

“Hey, just try it again,” he says without delay, but the damage has already been done.  It’s not his fault, you’re just… not the kind of person who is meant to shoot a blaster, maybe.  

“Ah… it’s alright,” you look out and smile sadly at the line of trees surrounding you, wondering how it’s possible that you only managed to hit one of them this whole time.  You don’t see it, but Din quickly touches the tips of his fingers to the side of his helmet twice before you look back at him.  “I hit it earlier.  I did, I promise.  You can see the mark if you look.”

His glove reaches out to brush your hair back, so unbelievably gentle after using the same arm to shatter bone just a few minutes ago.  “I know you did.  It was a perfect shot, you hit dead center.  I see it.”

“I did it with one hand, that’s why I tried the thing,” you mumble stupidly, looking down at your feet.  Dumb.  Dumb.

A strand of your hair is tucked behind your ear.  “Wish I was here.”

You glance over at him, feeling your expression suddenly go soft with a wave of affection.  It stops all the harsh criticisms, halting your negativity in its tracks and replacing it with just… soft, abstract things.  Mostly just warm, nonsensical fluff, but one clear and resounding thought breaking through.  You wish he was here, too.

“Maybe I’ll get good at it eventually,” you sigh, slowly handing him the blaster with the barrel pointed down and away from both of you.  Din carefully takes it from you, tucking it away somewhere on his utility belt while you gaze out at the designated target and victorious char mark decorating it.  “Or hopefully just okay at it at some point.  I guess I just need to practice more, right?”

“That’s right,” he tells you warmly, catching your free wrist.  “Try using this one when you do.”  And then a lightweight piece of metal is gently pushed into your empty hand.

Your expression furrows while you quickly look down at it, and—

You go utterly still at the gift, not even knowing what to think.

The first thing that you notice is the craftsmanship.  Brilliant, structurally flawless, the perfect size to fit your hand.  You don’t recognize the specific kind of metal that was used—definitely not beskar—but you think it might be constructed from the same material as Din’s old armor.  Dull silver, but with reflective chrome filigree accents around the handle, trigger, and safety.  It’s uniquely constructed and unlike any weapon you’ve ever seen before—no hard lines or edges, just a soft fluidity to the design that’s so aesthetically pleasing, it doesn’t really even resemble a blaster at all.

You can feel the visor silently studying your reaction while you continue marveling, noticing something new every time you look.  The safety is towards the back of the chamber, just like he said it’d be.  The sight is electronic, and you examine the way it’s built directly into the barrel.

Are those extra magnets on the inside?  Is this able to micro-adjust the plasma release for the best shot?  Holy stars, it must have cost a fortune.

“Din, this is…” you can’t decide where you want to look—the gorgeous crafting, the custom design, or him.  Standing so close to you, not saying a word while you search for the right ones.  “It’s so beautiful, I…”

“Was made for you,” he murmurs.  “Had to be.”

You look back down at the blaster to stop your eyes from tearing up.  He didn’t have to do this.  This is so… sweet, such a lovely thing to do.  Don’t cry, don’t cry—

“What is this?” You ask breathlessly instead, rotating the gun until he can see the symbol branded on the handle.  You recognize that it’s his signet, but you never bothered to ask him what it’s called, you never saw it as your place.  It’s an animal of some sort, one with a giant spike attached to its skull, and you’re glad you’ve never come face to face with one.

“It’s a mudhorn,” he answers quietly.  “They’re… dangerous animals.  Fiercely protective, preferring solitude.  The kid saved me from one a few days after I met him.  It’s… the mark of my clan.”

How fitting, you think, and an honor.  Perfect for him, and a bone-deep reminder of your two favorite people in the galaxy on your hip wherever you go.

“Thank you,” you tell him, hoping the sincerity in your voice sounds anywhere close to how you feel.  You haven’t even had it in your hand for longer than a minute and it’s already your prized position, the most important thing you’ve ever called yours.

Din nods and takes a small step back.  “Now hit the target.”

Feeling invigorated and renewed in every single way, you keep the kid tucked firmly in one arm while raising your blaster with the other.  The safety clicks off and your back straightens, chin lifting until something about the angle feels… right.  The trigger moves easily under your fingertip, and there’s almost no kickback considering how light the weapon is.  What you’re not expecting is the pure white beam of plasma shooting out of the barrel—unlike any blaster you’ve ever seen before—but then the immediate sight of it hitting the tree dead center sends a roar of triumph through your ears.  Fuck yes.

“Look at that!”  Din calls out over the kid’s happy squeal, and there’s nothing you can do to stop your loud whoop of victory.  Even though you know it only hit with the addition of those extra magnets to correct your terrible aim, that still feels so good—you feel so fucking powerful and dangerous.  You glance over to Din with a wide smile, but then his arm extends out towards the trunk directly next to the one with charred bark.  “Hit that one.”

You automatically swing the blaster in that direction and shoot.  A few pieces of wood split on impact and send sharp bits flying as soon as the bright white beam collides with it.

“That one,” Din tells you, and then bark splinters a half second later.  “That one.”  Bark splinters.  “That one, that one, that one—” hit, hit, hit, white plasma flying through the air and bark splintering in rapid succession.

He stops and spins around, pointing to a tree at the very edge of the clearing.  “That one?”

It’s furthest away but the trunk’s diameter is enormous.  As you lift the blaster, you know you’re likely to get it easily with this sophisticated weapon, even across the considerable distance.  So instead, feeling like nothing at all can touch you right now and wanting to see how smart the aim mechanism is, you raise up a few degrees higher before pulling the trigger.  Pale plasma launches from the barrel, and then one of the tree’s most prominent branches comes creaking and crashing to the ground right where you split it.

You’re beaming by the time Din turns back to you, the most excited you’ve ever been with your own progress.  He holds there for a moment while you lower your blaster and wait for him to speak, both of you looking at each other and not moving, until suddenly you hear his voice coming back to you.

Hit the target and I’ll marry you.

One of Din’s hands slowly comes up to the edge of his helmet, but before you can even process the implication behind the gesture, you’re immediately looking down at the crunchy leaves under your feet and clearing your throat.

There’s a beat of silence where you stare down at the dead foliage and wonder why the fuck you just did that.  Right in front of him, right to his face, too startled at how quickly you were being confronted with the possibility that you responded in an equally startled way.  It was instinctual, automatic and entirely out of your control, but that doesn’t mean you don’t want to take it back.

But… you can’t take it back.  That’s the way things are, and after a few moments, you hear his boots begin to cross the distance to you.

“Come on,” Din murmurs gently through the modulator, carefully taking the blaster from your hand and clicking the safety back on again.  “We have to get going.  The fifth quarry is far.  Three day trip through hyperspace.”

He doesn’t sound upset or disappointed by your unintentional rejection, thank the Maker.  You want to explain yourself somehow, but it appears it isn’t necessary in the slightest.  His arm wraps around your lower back and he leads both you and the baby back up the open ramp of the Crest, squeezing you close enough to his side that you have to learn how to walk in a different way to stop yourself from tripping over his boots.

The helmet turns and presses to the top of your head while you focus on moving straight.  “Proud of you,” Din murmurs quietly, and your chest fills with enough air that you’d be worried about floating away if he wasn’t latched onto you so tightly.

He eventually releases you and walks over to the armory, pressing a button to unlock the doors while you hold the kid and watch him start to remove the multitude of weapons strapped to his body.

Maybe… maybe this isn’t the right time, but something brave surges up inside you.  After receiving the most precious gift imaginable from him, hitting all those targets and hearing him say that he’s proud of you, you’re buzzing with just enough energy that for better or worse, it makes you open your mouth and ask.

“Could I… come with you this time?”

Din nearly jerks upright and looks over at you immediately, but he takes a while in responding.  You hope he sees it in your eyes.  You hope he sees just how much you don’t want to be stuck here again when this is possibly the one time you’d be able to tag along.  It’s a bullshit quarry, one he could do in his sleep, and you’ve been getting increasingly restless while stuck on this ship.

When Din eventually does respond… well, judging from his shift in tone, you’re assuming he was just shocked at the question and didn’t take any of that time to actually consider his answer.

“No.”  Short.  Unfeeling, and not sorry about it in the slightest, before turning back to return the blasters you were using previously to the armory as if you said nothing at all.

Okay…  Um.  Not great, not what you wanted to hear, but maybe if you explain yourself better, he’ll listen.

“I just… I’m the only reason you have to get this quarry in the first place.”  Your voice is quiet, trying to let go of some of the concerns you’ve kept to yourself over the past two weeks.  Your fingers fiddle idly with the kid’s little woolen sack as he hangs out in your arms, wanting to plead your case but feeling slightly nervous now.  “You were out having a crazy expensive blaster made for me while I shook hands with Karga and agreed that you’d take more work for less pay.  I hate that I did that.”

“You had no choice,” Din mutters, turning around and striding past you while pressing a button on his vambrace to close the Crest’s ramp.  “My fault for being late.”  And… for as warm and comforting as his voice sounded earlier, it now just sounds… dismissive.  Aloof.  Half-listening, not really wanting to talk but forcing himself to.

“Well this time, I thought maybe… I might be able to help?  Maybe?”  Maker, you feel yourself going quieter the more he walks around the hull and ignores you.  “Karga said it was just a missing person, not even a criminal…”

“Karga says a lot of things,” he grunts with his back to you, voice completely monotone through the modulator.

Come on, speak up.  You’ve lacked a backbone for so long, you’ll never get what you want unless you say it out loud and let it be known.  You take a deep breath and straighten your shoulders, trying to put a little bit of spine into it.  “I can be useful.  I can fight now, I’ve been working on my—” 

“You think I’m telling you no because I don’t think you’re capable?”  He suddenly whips around, voice ringing sharp and challenging throughout the hull while you freeze.  You don’t move but everything about you suddenly feels like it shrinks.

“I-I didn’t—” But he cuts you off, taking a step forward.

“I know you can fight, a Mandalorian taught you how.  I know you’re useful, I know it’s just a missing person, and I know you hate it when I leave.”  He pins you with his eyes through the visor, his tone harder than you think you’ve ever heard it before.  “No.  Your job is to stay here, on this ship, with my son, where it is safe, and my job is to go get the quarry.  Quit asking.  I’m not telling you again.”

The baby makes a tiny little distressed sound in your arms and you blink a few times up at the cold metal, feeling all the good feelings from before just… drain out of you.

Okay, that’s fine.  Uh.  You�� the cockpit is behind you, you’ll go up there and fly then.  No reason, just… he should get going.

“Okay, yeah,” you nod and tell the wall over his shoulder brace in immediate agreement, before abruptly spinning around and grabbing the ladder.  Din doesn’t move a single fucking muscle while you try to find your way up to the cockpit with the baby held to your chest and a dead stone sitting heavy inside of it, hoping your face doesn’t show the vulnerability you feel wanting to take over as you retreat.  Get to the cockpit first, get to the cockpit first, get to the—

“Sweet girl, I…” you barely hear murmured through the helmet from the floor, soft enough to sound slightly shocked, but you scramble into the cockpit and shut the door behind you before he can say anything else.

***

Silence didn't used to feel like this.

At first it was eerie, unnatural and stifling when you spent years in a wide open desert, wind swirling and dust pelting.  It suffocated you the first few times you jumped into hyperspace, a phenomena you read all about and considered mathematically fascinating before ever experiencing for yourself.  It was… foreign and strange, but you began to value it more and more as time passed.

Then, you started to get to know him and silence just became comforting.  Something you could bask in, knowing it was a comfort to him.  A choice he made because it just fit him best.  You felt safe in it, you felt like you didn’t have to be anything else but you.  You never had to break it just to avoid awkwardness, you became… closer to it, until you learned to fall in love with it.

But only when he was with you and it was his silence.  Not… everything else’s.  Now it’s haunting again.  Now the sheer lack of sound through hyperspace is a stranger to you, and the distortion of light surrounding the cockpit feels less about the sheer magnificence of manipulating space time and more about the fundamental disconnect it causes.  Gorgeous, but at its core, a severance.  Ripping the fabric of the universe apart, tearing a wound in it.

It’s been a few hours and nothing exceptional has happened since your conversation in the hull.  

You’ll admit that you’re a sensitive person, and because of that, you’ve always had a problem knowing if you were right or wrong when someone comes at you with a hard enough will.  You second-guess yourself, it’s one of your worst traits, and you feel like trying to squash that tendency without knowing the limit is partially to blame for why you’re holed up in this cockpit with the kid.  You’re quiet but in a different way from Din.  When he doesn’t speak, it’s because most of the time, he’s sure of himself and doesn’t need to.  When you don’t speak, it’s because most of the time, you’re insecure and don’t want to.

After being left alone with your thoughts for this long, you’re starting to realize that… he was right.  What were you thinking, wanting to tag along?  Wanting to hang out while he risks his life for this occupation, you probably sounded so fucking ignorant.  Maybe… maybe he didn’t have to say it like that, but his point is still very valid and you’re not sure if you’re really justified in hiding like this anymore.

The way he said… your job, though.  That still stings a bit.  This hasn’t felt like an actual job in a very long time.  Was that just an expression, or did he mean it literally?  You’re stuck on it, you’ve just been going over this for hours in your head, trying to figure out if you should be the one to apologize or not—or if this is just you overreacting from the start and no apologies will be necessary at all.

“Sorry you got stuck with me, kid,” you mutter sadly to the baby, watching him fiddle with his favorite metal ball in your lap.  He makes a little gurgle, purring in that weirdly adorable little way of his and it somehow feels like a reassurance directed to you that he’s just fine the way he is.

Maker, you haven’t heard anything from the hull in a fucking eternity; it’s like Din turned into a ghost, hasn’t even made a single footstep that you could hear since you last left him standing there.  You remember performing a quick flight check as soon as you got up here, lifting off as fast as you could and hoping the thrusters would rumble loud enough to cover your series of pitifully shallow sniffles at being yelled at unexpectedly by a very large and intimidating man, not really crying but not really able to breathe normal either.  The little monster was able to wiggle himself around in your lap as you were trying to punch in the correct coordinates for the fifth quarry with rapidly blinking, watery eyes, and then proceeded to give your belly the smallest hug you think you’ve ever been given and pretty much break your heart with it.

Lovely little boy, so sweet when he wants to be.  He’s sat with you this whole time, he even tried giving you his metal ball to play with but ultimately decided to keep it to himself when he realized you aren’t nearly as fascinated by it as he is.  You know it’s probably getting late for him, and you’ve been weighing the idea of handing him over to his father so he can at least get a good night’s sleep somewhere that isn’t your arms.  There’s no blankets in here, just your lap.

“I think I gotta go take you to your dad soon, tiny.  He’s probably missing you,” you tell him, trying to keep quiet enough that you won’t disturb Din in the hull.  There’s a good chance he’s already asleep.  “I think… he might still be mad at me.  Maybe you can give him the big eyes, soften him up a little?”

Right on cue, his enormous eyes start to droop closed, and you let out a tired sigh of exasperation.  That’s not gonna work, come on.  They gotta be open, booger.

You watch him slowly drift to sleep, his ears relaxing until they too start to droop, but when you try to take the ball from him and set it down on the console, his eyes immediately pop back open and the toy slips from your fingertips.  It levitates right back into his tiny hands as you watch, and then he closes his eyes once more while tightly cuddling the thing he loves most to his body.

Unbelievable.

He’s a child, and yet he’s…

“How are you so strong?”  You ask him, unable to even fathom.  “You’re the smallest, most helpless little thing I’ve ever seen and you’ve got such… strength.  You defy the universe for a piece of metal.”

He doesn’t hear you, you think he’s asleep again.  It’s just as well, you figure.  He needs to go sleep in his crib, it’s time.  You scoop him up and make sure the little ball stays tucked snugly in his arms, before finally standing up and stumbling over to the door on numb legs.

Only, when it slides open, you quickly stop short.

Because there, sitting on the floor and resting his helmet against the corner of this small little platform leading to the ladder, is the Mandalorian.

So much closer than you expected him to be.  So big, crammed into such a tiny place.  You didn’t hear his footsteps climbing the ladder, and you would’ve noticed it during the hours you’ve spent in the suffocatingly muted quiet of hyperspace.  He can be silent but not when absolutely nothing else exists and he’s got a thousand fucking pounds of steel weighing him down at any moment in time.  You took off almost immediately once you barricaded yourself inside the cockpit, so has he… did he follow you up in those last few seconds, right after you shut the door?  The ones when you were sniffling like a child and trying desperately to turn the thrusters on before you let the tears come?

His head lifts and his back straightens as you’re looking down at him with his sleeping son cradled in your arms, your eyes slightly redder than they should be.  You’re a mess and… he’s been here this whole time?

“Could you hear me in there?”  You whisper in sudden mortification, but Din just keeps gazing up at you through the impenetrable metal visor.  A complete mystery again.  Unreadable—he could be anyone.

When he doesn’t answer you, your heart twists with the possibility that he’s still upset with you, and you quickly turn to the ladder to figure out the best way to get down without jostling the baby.

“I’m sorry.”  His voice stops you dead in your tracks.  It’s so soft, nearly flipping in and out of the modulator from the lack of volume, the most cautious sounding thing you’ve ever heard coming through the filter.  “I… hurt your feelings.  I’m sorry.”

And…  Maker, if anybody else had said it.  If literally anybody else had said it, you know it would’ve sounded like the most sarcastic, dickish remark in such a delicate moment.  But, you also remember him telling you once that you were tenderhearted.  That the galaxy would never be as kind to you as you are to it.  This… comes out sounding like he’s trying to change that.

It comes out sounding like he’s trying to use his voice to hold you because he doesn’t think you want to be touched right now.  Like… like he’s doing everything he can to be as careful as possible here because you think he might be attempting to do something he’s never done before.  Apologize for saying something he didn’t mean.

“You don’t have to,” you quickly tell him.  He’s not good with words and apologies are difficult enough to phrase for normal people, you don’t want him to fret over it if that’s what this is.  “It’s okay, I know you’re not… you don’t have to.  It was stupid of me to ask.”

“It wasn’t,” he instantly counters, his voice finally seeming to find the floor when it was just hovering before.  Not loud—still gentle, still making sure the kid doesn’t wake up and you’re not frightened away, but a bit more grounded this time.  “It wasn’t… what I wanted to hear, and I didn’t take it well.  Not stupid.”

“It was stupid,” you return amicably, looking down at your feet.  “That’s not my… job, like you said.”

Din suddenly hangs his helmet down to his chest, pressing his gloves to the part that curves over his forehead and rubbing it.  “Shit.  I didn’t mean—”

“You were right,” you acknowledge, having spent the past few hours coming to the understanding that it’s the hard truth and he just phrased it poorly.  “I’m not… built for it, I’d only get in your way.  I barely just managed to shoot stationary targets with a blaster today, and that’s only with that aim corrector built into the barrel.  I’m here to be helpful, not—”

“What are you saying?”  He suddenly lifts the beskar to study you, sounding genuinely confused.  “What aim corrector?”

That… makes you pause.

“The, uh…”  Now you’re confused.  “The one that adjusts the plasma release on the gun you gave me.”

He doesn’t move an inch or say a single thing to you in response and you awkwardly shuffle your feet for a second, everything so quiet that you can hear every little snore that goes in and out of the kid’s tiny button nose.

You blink at him after way too long of that, not knowing why he still hasn’t said anything.  “There’s an electronic sight and like a bazillion extra magnets packed into the barrel, Din, what else could—”

“Sweet girl, that’s… that’s for the Philithiorium,” Din breathes out, like he’s absolutely blown away by you right now.  “That gas is less stable than normal canisters, it takes more magnets to focus the white beam without overheating the metal.”

You stare at him, not truly processing.  He’s saying that… you made all those shots today without any help at all?  By yourself?

Your eyebrows furrow and you blink a few times, but then his slow, heavy sigh echoes throughout the metal walls with disappointment… and you don’t think it’s directed towards you.

“You’re just… always so unsure of yourself.”  He sounds genuinely distraught as his helmet tips down to look at the ground.  “I made that worse today.”

“It doesn’t matter,” you quickly shake your head, your chest already beginning to loosen slightly by just being around him, hearing his voice, seeing the metal glint under the fluorescent light overhead when he’s in such a vulnerable position on the floor.  “It’s okay, let’s just… pretend neither of us said anything at all, okay?”

“Is that what you really want?”  He asks you after a moment of quiet, and for some reason, you hear something in your mind tell you that his arms look so nice right now, don’t they?  You could fit right there, perfect and safe again.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” you smile at him, feeling a bit of the ache trapped inside you continue to work itself out little by little.  You’ll be back to normal soon, it’s fine.

“No, I mean… do you really want to come with me?”  Din asks you, the words sounding cautious.  Confused, like he truly never expected the proposition from you at all.  “Or… do you just not want me to go?”

Oof, what a fucking question.

Why would he ask this?  It’s not pointed; it’s the softest, gentlest inquiry you’ve ever been posed.  Maybe in other circumstances, you’d say that him leaving doesn’t have anything to do with it, but… you’re certain that internally, it absolutely does have at least something to do with it and he was just able to know it before you did.  Which is probably why his sharp words seemed all the more cutting earlier.  It hurt because he said the truth first, verbalized a very deep insecurity you’ve been trying to hide from him and threw it right in your face when shutting you down.

Though, if it worked differently and you were the one who had to be away while he stayed here, you’d like to think you’d handle it way better than how it is now.  At least you’d have a real mission to focus on, new things to see and experiences to have.  You just feel… confined sometimes.

You take a deep breath and figure you’ll use sitting down as an excuse to think for a second.  There’s practically no room but you find it in the back of the cockpit near the doorframe anyways, doing your best to keep the kid level while you slowly lower yourself to the ground near him.  Not touching him, but close.

“I just… I lived my whole life stuck in one spot, wanting to see the galaxy,” you finally admit to him, staring at his chestplate but seeing the helmet tilt slightly in your peripheral.  “Sometimes it’s just… hard to see the galaxy and still be stuck in one spot, I guess.”

“…You want an adventure,” Din proposes quietly, and though there’s not a single hint of mockery in his voice, you suddenly feel like it’s really fucking dumb when he phrases it like that.  What are you, an eight year old?  Wanting to go on an adventure, see things you’ve never seen without any concept for real life?  Credits?  Time?  Resources?

You shrug a shoulder to make it seem like it’s no big deal.  Why is he even entertaining this right now?  “It’s stupid, I kn—”

“Like on Naboo,” he goes on, ignoring your harsh self-criticism, not allowing you the ability to even get it out once he heard the first couple words.  “Going through the forest, seeing that waterfall.  Someplace to find for yourself.  Explore.  Experience.”

You… you want it so badly that you think your eyes might tear up just hearing the words coming out of his mouth when he says them like that.  Like he… just inherently understands.  He knows.

He knows you.  He’s not good with words and yet he found the single most succinct way to put what you thought was a complex yearning without even trying.  You can’t even answer him, he hit the target dead on and you’re left with nothing to say that wouldn’t just be a miserable lie.

“Okay,” Din says after a moment, giving you a small nod.

You’re lost now.  “…Okay?”

“You’re never going on a hunt with me,” he tells you very seriously, no room for arguing.  “Ever.  And not because you can’t handle it, understand?”  He inhales, quickly adding on to his response before you’re able to analyze it the way you want to.  “But if you want an adventure, then… I can try and find a way to give you one.”

Stars.  He’s… too kind.  You somehow feel like it’s more than you deserve.  You were honestly hoping to just shadow him on a hunt, watch him work and stay well out of the way when he needs you to.  Helping if you think you’d be of any help; an extra set of eyes and hands.  You would’ve been fine even if he didn’t apologize for raising his voice at you, he doesn’t have to do this for you.

“Thank you,” you say for the third time today, feeling like each one has somehow multiplied in sincerity.

“It can’t be right now,” he quickly tells you, apologetic but earnest about it.  “I have to find the quarry, and I’m supposed to meet with Karga again in a week.”

You never did let him know about the other part of the deal you made with Karga, you admit.  Four pucks, no hassling, no hard time constraints.  That’s what you shook on, but you just never found a way to bring it up to Din.  Especially since you’ve been so preoccupied with hiding your growing disappointment from him whenever he has to go.

“If…” you pause, wondering the best way to phrase this.  Yikes, this is a toughie.  “Um.  If Karga… I don’t know, hypothetically, if Karga decided to loosen the time constraints back to the way they were before the Corellian bounty, would you… still need to meet with him again in a week?”

You don’t think he even bothers shuffling through all those words.  “Say what you mean.  Please.”

“That was part of the deal I struck with him,” you quickly explain.  “You can hunt on your own timetable again and he’ll keep giving you four pucks like before, no more or less after this one extra quarry.  It’s like a… replacement of sorts, for the one I kept you from getting the time before.  If credits aren’t an issue, you can take more than a week.  But only if you want to, you don’t have to.  It’s just there and you should know, that’s all.”

He takes his time responding, lifting his helmet just the slightest bit in… surprise?  Maybe?

“You never told me you did that,” Din finally murmurs.

“Ah.  Well.”  You look down at the sleeping kid in your arms.  “I didn’t want you to think I was trying to… keep you here.”

It genuinely is a struggle for you, and you think he’s just now realizing that.  As much as you know he gets frustrated with you for always wanting him to be here when he physically can’t be, you think it’s only now that he’s truly realizing the lengths you go to in order to stomp that part of you down whenever you feel it threatening to come up.  You allowed him to leave every single time without telling him he could stay, knowing that all that was left for you was babysitting and target practice for days on end.

“Will you come over here?”  Din finally asks, and the tone of his voice just punches you in the chest.  So soft, so distressed from having you so close yet so far from him and just… full of a quiet hope, like he’s fully expecting you to say no.

“Will we fit?”  You whisper after a moment, even quieter.

He doesn’t answer, he just reaches for you.  You do your best to scoot over to him without waking the kid, and then Din pulls you the rest of the way once he has a grip.  You go right into his arms, laying sideways across his lap and supported by his steel embrace.

Oh, it’s not comfortable but you’ve also never been more fucking comfortable.  One of his knees lifts and allows you to rest your back against it without worrying about falling over sideways and down the ladder to the hull, thank the Maker.  The beskar pauldron over his shoulder digs into your cheek, but Din immediately pushes an arm up to nudge his helmet off and make it better for both of you.  Your face automatically fits into the crook of his neck while he sets the beskar on the bend of his knee, and then he silently cradles you while you do the same to his little boy… who does the same to his favorite metal ball.

“Ni tar’tayl su,” he murmurs into your hair, the one phrase in Mando’a you do recognize, especially with how beautiful and elegant it sounds rolling off his tongue.  “Forgive me.  Ni ceta.”

You sigh your contentment and melt into him, well aware that you’d still be more comfortable in bed.  But when you’re pressed hard against his chest like this and the baby is fast asleep in your arms, you get to feel both of them breathing.  Din’s right lung is probably bigger than the kid’s whole entire body, but you like the radically different cycles they go through.  You think you count six full breaths coming from the brown sack in your palms for every one of Din’s and two of yours.  It creates the most beautiful little symphony that sometimes gets a little off track, but always finds its way back around again.

“How do you say…”  You ask, feeling his hand slowly move down the curve of your spine, mindless and hypnotic.  It catches the edge of your shirt and goes underneath, and even though it’s not his bare hand and there’s no skin to skin, it still feels so good.  Not sexual or sensual even, just… a comfort to you.  “In Mando’a, how do you say… out of a trillion?”

Din’s breaths pause for just a second, his portion of the synchronized rhythm faltering.  Soon it starts back up, and his head turns to press his lips against your hair.

“I don’t think there’s a word for it,” he admits, gently brushing a thumb across the baby’s forehead while he snoozes.  “There could be, but I don’t know it.  I’d use… out of a million million millions.  Dayn alanyc bal alanyc bal alanyci.”

Your eyes begin to drift closed, exhausted from keeping them open after shedding a few tears earlier.  Your first fight and you’re already completely in love with him again after a handful of hours of sulking and one conversation.  How is that possible?  You’re normally a very forgiving person and it wouldn’t have taken much to make you feel better, you just never expected him to… actually want it from you that badly, care enough about it to get on the floor and ask.

Din doesn’t move the entire night through.  You assumed he’d make everyone get up at some point and move to the hull, but he doesn’t.  You fall asleep against his chest, comforted by the silence once again.

***

The next morning, Din quietly climbs into the cockpit while you’re humming in the shower.  You’re too busy basking in the indoor rainfall to feel the ship pull out of hyperspace, and then jump back into it a few moments after.

***

“How long do you think you’ll be this time?”  You ask two days later, sitting on the extended flattop of Din’s old cot and swinging your legs back and forth.  The baby is currently sitting on your lap and trying to roll the metal ball down your knee so you’ll kick it in the air, you think, because he keeps dropping it at different moments and forcing you to stop moving your legs to prevent accidentally denting a wall.  Every time the ball clatters to the floor, he makes a sad sound and it immediately lifts back up into his tiny hands for another try.

Heavy boots clang against the metal floor as Din drops down from the ladder, having just landed the Crest on the surface of whatever planet you’re on.  “I’m not leaving yet.”

“Oh…”  You blink, surprised.  “Okay.”

“I wanted to do some more training with you first, if that’s okay.  You can say no if you want, but maybe not,” Din drawls, striding over to the armory and opening it.  He carefully removes your blaster from the front shelf, speaking with his back to you.  “You’re going to run.”

“Um.”  You take a moment to glance around the enclosed hull, before turning to look back at him with your eyebrows raised.  “What, like… in place?”

Din sighs and closes the armory before leaning back against the doors, rubbing the face of the helmet in exasperation.  “From me, sweet girl.”

Your legs stop swinging, and the baby grumbles and slaps three fingers against your knee.  “What?”

“We’re on Sanctuary II,” he explains, turning to grab his black bag from one of the storage shelves.  He unzips it and reaches back into one of the larger pockets on his utility belt, before grabbing a handful of credits and stuffing them inside.  “It’s a moon, the New Republic occupied it years ago and made it a safe world for refugees and orphans of the Empire.  You’ll have your blaster, some credits, a communicator, and a day head start.  You’re going to run from me.  Show me how much you’ve learned.”

Is… he for real?

Right now?  You don’t even know how to respond, you’re too surprised.  Even when Din approaches and carefully trades the kid for your blaster, setting the bag down next to you on the metal bed, you still haven’t answered him.

“If you want?”  He asks after a moment, and you quickly jerk your head into a nod and jump off the raised platform, almost knocking into him with your sudden excitement.

“Okay!  Fuck yeah,” you grin, but Din shakes his head.

“Rules,” he says seriously, and you quickly do your best to frown, trying to compose your thrilled expression to match his tone.  “One.  This is a safe world, but things can always happen.  You have a blaster now, but it’s for emergencies only.  Do not shoot me with it.  Do you understand?”  You nod, but Din reaches forward to grab your elbow.  “Out loud, please.  For me.”

“I will not shoot you with this blaster,” you vow obediently, carefully cradling the precious firearm in your hands.

“Do not shoot me,” he repeats while pointing a leather finger at you.  “Do not… shoot at me.  Near me.  Around me.  No, just—don’t shoot.  Unless I am… very far away.  Okay?”

Well, he didn’t have to phrase it like that.  You frown, but acquiesce regardless.  “I will only resort to blastering if it’s an emergency and you are not around.”

He nods a thank you for putting it into better words.  “Second rule.  Since you don’t have a ship, I won’t either.  We’re on foot.  I don’t doubt you can hotwire a piece of junk to do what you need it to do, but I’d prefer it if you didn’t.  Good?”

Entirely accurate and entirely fair.  “Good.”

“Three,” he says.  “I’ll have the kid with me, which is both good and bad news for you.  Good news is he’ll slow me down, bad news is I can’t promise he won’t also try to intervene at some point if you’re serious about putting up a decent fight.  What I can promise is that I won’t encourage it.”

“Reassuring,” you nod.  “Also not really a rule.  Please continue.”

“Four.”  He pauses for a second.  “I think I’m wanted by the New Republic.”

You nearly jerk back.  “What?”

“I can’t confirm it and I’m not proud of it,” Din quickly tells you, probably the vaguest possible explanation he could provide.  “I’m only telling you so that you’ll know your advantage and find a way to exploit it.  I can’t be seen by any officers, or they might arrest me.”

Is he fucking serious?  “I don’t want you to be arrested, Din, I—”

“I won’t be,” he assures you.  “They owe me one, I just don’t want to cash in yet.  Trust me.”

You… do.  Insanely, and against every logical thought flittering through your head, you do.  If you were ever going to bet money that someone would be able to navigate a safe world on foot without being caught by the numerous officers scattered across the surface, then you’d put all your credits on Din Djarin.  It… also shouldn’t really surprise you at all that the people seeking his incarceration also owe him a favor, should it?  It actually sounds right on par for him.  “Okay.”

“Fifth, and this one is important, so listen up,” he continues gruffly.  “You check in with me tonight over the e-comm, alright?  I don’t care where you are or how safe this planet is, if you don’t check in, I’ll come find you before the sun rises.  Say you understand me.”

“I understand you,” you tell him, your heart beginning to pound in your chest at the reality of this actually happening.  “I’ll check in tonight.”

“And if,” he goes on, “by some miracle, you manage to make it more than a full day, you check in with me tomorrow night, too.  Say it.”

“I will check in with you every single night for the full five days it’ll take you to find me,” you assert, the adrenaline starting to make you brash and giddy.  

Din tilts his helmet at you sternly.  It is a very, very stern tilt.  “Okay.  New plan, forget everything I just said.”

Your expression furrows.  “What’s the new plan?”

“That is the new plan,” he says, dead serious.  “Us.  Not doing this.”

“Oh, come on,” you grin cheekily up at him, poking his chestplate.  “I’m just giving you some motivation to find me quicker, that’s all.”

Din stares down at you, and… yeesh.  Tough crowd.

“Tell you what,” he finally grunts, sounding incredibly unamused with your jesting.  “If you can last that long with only a day head start, I’ll let you come with me to collect the fifth quarry.  You can even cuff the bastard yourself.”

You know it’s just because he’s rightly confident in his own deadly skill, but hearing him propose the possibility still shoots a thrill down your spine.  “Oh ho, you are gonna regret saying that, shiny,” you beam up at him, starting to hop back and forth on each foot with excitement.

“But if I’m able to find you, you can’t ask me ever again,” he finishes shortly, and you immediately go still in front of him.

“What?”

“If I’m able to find you in five days, I don’t want to hear about you coming with me on a hunt and you can’t ever ask me not to go on one,” Din tells you, his voice rough and gravelly through the modulator.  Not mean or harsh, but firm.  “From now on, it’ll be off-limits.”

You… take a moment, not knowing if you should feel scolded or not.  When you don’t immediately say anything in response, he sighs and turns the helmet away from you.

“Leaving is hard enough as it is,” he mutters, looking at the ground.  “Hearing you ask… makes it impossible.”

You slowly lower your gaze to the floor as well, feeling your heart constrict tight in your chest.  There’s a real pull under his voice, telling you that information even though it sounds like he doesn’t really want to admit it out loud.  It… really is a struggle for him too, then.  You understand.

“Okay,” you nod.  There’s not a single part of you that actually thinks you’ll be able to stay hidden from him for five days while stuck on foot, so this is essentially a given.  You’re not thrilled about the idea, but you’re going to do your best to respect it nonetheless, especially if he cares enough to put off hunting and allow you this experience for yourself.  It’s a better compromise than you ever imagined, and you’ll do everything you can to hold up your side of the bargain.

Din clears his throat and straightens his spine, turning the visor until it faces you head on once more.  “Final rule.  I reserve the right to break any rule we just agreed to, or any fucking rule in this galaxy to keep you safe.  Good?”

Your cheeks flush with heat, your stomach suddenly filling with butterflies.  He doesn’t do that.  Din says what he says or he doesn’t say anything at all, there’s no… taking things back, he’s already breaking his own code.

“What happened to The Way says no take-backs?”  You ask quietly.

“This is my way,” he answers you.  Quick, not even taking a moment to think about it, before pulling out a fancy looking wristwatch thing and clipping it on you himself.  “This is your communicator.  It takes more power than the one you have now but it’ll reach a further distance.  I have one just like it, they’re locked into the same frequency and timesynced together, and the batteries need to be charged every three days.  If you make it that long, I’ll remind you.”  Din grabs the bag while you slide your arm into it, helping you hook it around your shoulder with one hand while he cradles the kid in his other.  Your heart is pounding now, pumping with adrenaline as he pulls you towards the middle of the hull and then wraps an arm around you.

“Hey,” he murmurs, pulling you tight to him and pressing the helmet to the crown of your head.  His voice is barely a whisper through the modulator.  “Gar darasuum.”  For an eternity.

You find some way to wrap your arms around him, even with your blaster in your hand and the kid hanging out in his dad’s other arm.

“Dayn alanyc, bal alanyc, bal alanyci,” you murmur dutifully against the beskar chestplate, knowing your accent is probably butchering the words but hoping they still carry the same sentiment.

And then you’re squeeeeeezed hard enough to get a little air out of you, before you’re let go and he turns around, pressing a button on his vambrace so the ramp begins to lower.

It’s bright outside but not too bright, and everything is warm and gentle and breezy, right in the middle of a lush plain.  You inhale the fresh air into your lungs, looking out across the wide open field, having no fucking clue this is where your day would be leading when you woke up this morning.  Oh Maker, it’s gorgeous here.  Not like Naboo, where every single thing is picturesque and fit for an e-card, but in a soft, understated kind of way.  The sky is a canvas of swirling pastel clouds, pale pinks and yellows and blues, and the communicator on your wrist lets you know that it’s just after noon here.

You take one single step down the ramp, before immediately stopping and turning around to bite your lip at him.

“How am I… how am I supposed to outrun you?”  You ask, already clueless.  “You’re too good, better than me at everything.”

“That’s not true,” Din reminds you sternly, grabbing your hand at your side.  “You already know who’s after you, that’s an advantage nobody else has ever had against me.  You know how I think.  I don’t know how, but sometimes it’s like you can…”  He slowly shakes his head.  “See me.  Through the metal.”

“But… but that works both ways,” you point out, breathless at hearing him say that but needing to focus right now.  “You know me, too—you’ll know exactly where I—”

He shakes his head again, but quickly this time.  “Remember what I told you a long time ago?  What your best weapon is?”

You… do not.  He told you so many things, and you’re assuming every single one of them is going to come into play during this endeavor if you want to outlast.  You’re going to have to think back and remember all of them individually, find the time to figure out your best plan of action based on the remarkably little you know about how he hunts.

“You’re smart, remember?”  Din murmurs, squeezing your fingers.  “Your mind works differently, it sees things in ways I’ll never be able to, not even with this helmet.  So…”  He shrugs a shoulder like it’s the simplest thing in the galaxy.  “Don’t try to outrun, okay?  Just try to outsmart.”

You give him a nod after a moment, still not really sure about it, before giving his hand one last squeeze in return and eventually letting go.  

Outsmart.  Outsmart him, use what you know about him to be the most elusive quarry he’s ever hunted down.

As you make your way down the ramp, you’re already thinking.  His helmet tracks footprints, that’s a thing you know.  You’ll have to find someone to trade shoes with, then—yours aren’t too beat up, maybe you can find a local who’d appreciate a better pair.  Are you going to a city?  Would there be one in walking distance?  The wilderness won’t work, you’ll be too exposed and it would make you an easy target for either him or wild animals.  The weather seems clear here though, and you don’t think you’ll need to worry about rain or snow, but if—

“Oh—but when you do see me,” Din decides to add when your feet finally touch the grass, and you pause once more to turn around and look at him.  He stays quiet for a second, studying you through the helmet for too long.  Like the anticipation is getting to him already.

You bite your lip back at him and adjust the bag on your shoulder, tummy swirling with nerves and excitement.  He tilts the visor up, gazing down at you from the hull with the kid tucked in his arms.

“Try to outrun,” he says gruffly, before turning back into the ship and letting the ramp slowly close behind him.

[frannyzooey]

Kelli I just wanted to say how adorable it is to see you get your mind blown by Charnie and then BAM! Charlie Hunnam pic and gif set reblogs after reblogs lmfaooo. Glad to have you join the pit, babe. It's real nice down here. I'm really more of a tall, dark, and handsome kinda gal myself but I gleefully make exceptions for Charlie Hunnam (and Takeshi Kovacs, but that's a topic for another day 😏)

Oh and have you found your fave CH role? My personal fave is Raleigh Beckett and, obvi, Will Miller. Their calm competence just wrecks my puth! Can we pls obsess over this gorgeous man together???

-🍉 watermelon anon-

hello watermelon anon! ❤️

I’m happy you find my shameful nighttime reblogging of Charlie Hunnam adorable, LMAO

I have literally never given this man a second glance until I read @charnelhouse writing — the power she holds 🙌🏻❤️

Isn’t the beginning of a new fixation the literal best? Especially when the person has a whole catalog of films and his fic tag is RICH with treasures?

CHRISTMAS CAME EARLY FOR ME 😍

I haven’t watched anything but Triple Frontier (and my eyes were on Frankie the entire time — RIGHTFULLY SO) but I did just watch The Gentlemen last night and he was really good in it! That was a look

Charnie told me I gotta watch King Arthur next, so that’s next on the list 👀👀

Let’s obsess together! ❤️

[waitintheelevator]

To say that I’m impressed is an understatement, blown away is underplaying it, shocked is an under reaction. Your work over exceeds my expectations every single time. I think to myself “How can Mays writing get any better?” I don’t know how! It’s crazy! Mind twisting! I was hungry for an age gap relationship and you hand fed it to me with a golden spoon. I’ve climbed the highest mountains, tip-toed over quicksand, killed five women to find an age gap story as good as this one. Where did this begin? Where did this desire for old men to love me sprout from? This desire for a wise man to guide me has sprouted out of control. This story is a watering can that is watering overgrown weeds and turning it into a lush summer sunflower. My feelings and desire have grown exponentially since I read this story. I feel new again. Healed. I look at these old men in a different light. They aren’t just sex objects, they have feelings too. There is a seed planted in me that has brought empathy and wisdom. These old men have stories. Not only are they sex objects, but they are also damaged. I’ve gotten no better taste of this damage than from Victor Layne himself. You started off this story with his age, 17, about the same age we are now. Victor is a ripe banana waiting to collect dirt and mush. His father certainly has a way of doing that. My baby Victor was abused? Immediately I thought “this is a man who needs saving” I formed a sort of protection over him…Almost like a mother…BUT WAIT! HE HAS A MOTHER! Where is she? Oh….she left him……25!!! 25….what a time to be alive! I was wondering when a female love interest would be introduced. Now that it’s happened, I wish it didn’t. I hate this bitch cunt she’s so stupid and I’m jealous of her! Maybe she reads poetry and maybe shes gorgeous but she will never be able to satisfy him. I never knew a story could bring such anger to my heart, such passion for a man that isn’t real. 28 years old! He’s marrying someone else! Okay! “Partners for life, through thick and thin, through sickness and in health….” Part of me hopes the sickness overrules their marriage! 31 years old …She’s dead 🎉🎉🎉🎉 If I’m being honest, I already knew about her death, but that didn’t make the news any less sweet. That bitch had it coming. She gave him a lighter as a gift…is that not promoting his drug usage or what???? She needs to stay 6ft underground while Victor Layne is 6 ft deep in me!!!!! 35 years old.. I should feel bad for him and his spiraling and guilt, but the more damaged the better. He’s leaving london and coming home to mama🤷‍♀️ 38 years old… IN A SMALL TOWN IN OKLAHOMA LMFAOOO. TULSA BABY!!!!! T-TOWN!!!! I wish he was real like I actually need a man so badly I’d do anything to see that guy again 😞 trying to imagine what life would be like if I never saw him. We wouldn’t have this story! I love the detail of the salt and peppered hair. This is my type in a man exactly and the way you describe him is superb. I have to admit something…I have accidentally been picturing Matty Healy this entire time and i literally feel sick to my stomach about it. He’s just on the brain…ANYWAYS 38 years old….and he already wants us….if this were real life I literally would never linger after class and talk to him but this is why I LOVE stories like this. It shows the real possibilities of the world. I know a love like this exists out there, and I will swim through shark infested waters to find it. Still 38, and ready to JUMP HIS BONES! Kidding…he found himself grunting as he was pushing into my walls..I MEAN he was grunting as he pushed open the doors to the lecture hall😅 Your description of him really does bring me back to reality. I forget that he’s an old man who aches and breaks, I want him even more. This is kind of our first look at a playful banter between them, well he’s trying to banter. The idea of handing in a paper and touches lingering is CRAZY! WHO KNEW VICTOR STILL HAD THAT DOG IM HIM😹? Picturing him teaching psychology with a button down and arm muscles is literally a dream. I need this to be my life (pt. 1)

Ummmmm white man

“You shouldn’t be here… I’m fucked up, I can’t fuck you up too.” “Who else gonna take care of you on nights like this, Mr. Layne?”

—————————————

17. Seventeen. Seventeen years old and enduring torture.

The smell of of smoke filled his lungs, mixing with the crisp, London air. Curled up on the seat on the balcony, he took a deep breath. Wind blew his loose, dark curls around as his father’s voice pierces Victor’s ears.

“You’re a fucking pansy, a cunt just like your whore bag of a mother-” Victor’s fingers shook, attempting to tune out his father’s abuse. What did a seventeen year old do to deserve this mistreatment? “You’re stupid, and you’re disgusting and worthless! You can’t even get a job, why else are you still alive?” Before the boy could flinch, a blazing hand struck him on the cheek, burning tears from his eyes.

He snapped, standing up, “What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you mentally challenged? Why do you have to be such a dick?” Victor’s voice cracked slightly, over the abuse. Years of torment by his dad fucked him up. His mom left after his dad put his hands on her, and his drinking only got worse. He would take it out on Victor, seeing his mother’s radiant life in his son.

His dad stayed quiet, a look of anger and a twinge of guilt in his eyes. “You don’t have to worry about me anymore.” He stormed inside, his dad stomping in behind him.

“You’re not gonna do anything you little bitch! You haven’t got half the balls your mother did, fag-” His words slurred, taking another sip of whatever battery acid was mixed in his cup. Victor didn’t talk back, simply shoving random clothes in a briefcase.

—————————————

25. Twenty- five. Twenty- five years old and working as a librarian in a town far from his childhood.

A beautiful lady walked up to the checkout counter.

“You like poetry?” Victor’s hand brushed up against the woman’s, their eyes locking.

“I do, I’m researching and looking for inspiration for my next book. I’m looking for a psychological yet spiritual-” Victor tuned her out stared at her, in awe of her beauty and passion for whatever she was going on about. He scanned the book, scanning her library card after. “Sorry, I ramble.” She shook her head embarrassed and red.

“Don’t be, I like your passion. I have a book you’d like. I could give it to you, if you’d let me of course.” Victor took his chance shamelessly, yet swooned the young woman. She obliged and made a plan to meet that Friday for drinks and books.

“I’m Angelica.” She held her hand out and Victor grabbed it.

“Victor.”

—————————————

28. Twenty- eight. Twenty- eight and marrying the love of his life, Angelica.

“I do.”

“I do!”

“You may kiss the bride.”

His arms wrapped around her corset- covered waist as he leaned her over for a kiss, a kiss he was specifically waiting for. Their first kiss as a married couple. Their first kiss as life long soul mates. Partners for life, through thick and thin, through sickness and health, for the rest of eternity, right?

“I got you a present, V.” She confessed, pulling out a stainless steel lighter in pristine condition.

“I’ve never met someone like you before.” Victor confessed while his head was buried in her neck while their bodies are tangled together, a thin blanket covering their bare bodies.

“Baby,” she giggled into the top of his head, wrapping her arms around him.

“I’m serious. Where would I be without you? I love you. I was lost when you found me.”

“Go to sleep, sappy boy. You’re drunk.” He smiled warmly cozying into her deeper, with not a worry in the world.

—————————————

31. Thirty- one. Thirty- one and numb at his soulmate’s funeral.

The casket was closed. It hurt him even more, not being able to see his best friend one more time. He didn’t get to say goodbye, their last words exchanged being “fuck you”. They were arguing the night before she died. Angelica hastily got in her car, driving away from him for some space. She was in an accident.

He blamed himself. It was all his fault. At least that’s what he thought. He blamed himself for everything, his mother, his father, his wife. He would never forgive himself for this.

—————————————

35. Thirty- five. Thirty- five and drunk on the side of the road.

Four years later and he still can’t forgive himself. He’s only spiraled. He couldn’t go on like this. Everything reminded him of her. The apartment with remnants of her existence, but no life to be found. It angered him, infuriated him that she didn’t have more time. Everything he touched broke, shattered and was destroyed. He couldn’t do it anymore. He needed a change. A change of scenery, a change of mind, a change of heart. He was leaving.

He left the country and went to the land of the free with nothing but a briefcase filled with cash, liquor and his gifted lighter. He was ready to leave it all behind, and he did. Except he couldn’t, he couldn’t leave behind her memory, the baggage going with him anyway.

—————————————

38. Thirty- eight. Thirty- eight and living in a small town in Oklahoma, teaching at the local college as a psychologist professor.

He was tired. He was tired and greying, salt sprinkled in his hair as a sign of aging and stress. He had a passion for psychology, but no interest in teaching it to unmotivated, newly turned adults. Unamused, he showed up to class everyday. He was bored, he was so uninterested until he saw you. After leaving behind his past life and coming here, he never interacted with people much. He never socialized in fear of what else he would destroy. He figured if he kept to himself, no one would care. That was enough for him.

Again, that was until you appeared in his class. After classes, you would linger for a moment, asking if he was alright.

“Mr. Layne, you seem tired. Long night?” You would joke, hinting at a hangover.

With not a hint of emotion on his face, he would always give a return. “Something like that.”

You always smiled at him before leaving, saying something along the lines of, you should smile more, or take a day off.

He would wonder if he was taking your interactions out of context, twisting them into something deeper, more taboo. But those thoughts would quickly leave his mind as he reprimanded himself.

—————————————

Still 38, he found himself grunting as he struggled to push open the large, heavy doors to his lecture hall. The ache in his shoulder presented nothing but a testament to his apparent aging.

8:30 A.M MONDAY, read the digital clock glowing red on the wall behind his desk. Huffing and puffing, Mr. Layne threw down his tattered, patch-covered briefcase onto his desk. He slumped himself into the chair, resting his head in his hands as he rubbed his face up and down.

His tired mind questioned him, wondering why he didn’t just quit his job to become a male stripper. Making himself chuckle dryly, he looked up at the seemingly never ending rows of seats and then back at the door as someone to have walked in. It was you.

“You’re here early. We’ve got over half an hour.” He questioned, with a faint touch of concern in his tone.

“Woke up early ‘cause of a headache, couldn’t go back to bed.” You replied with a half-assed smile, rubbing your left temple. He nodded in acknowledgement, before going to tend to whatever papers were on his desk. You glanced over at him before picking a seat in the second row up. You sat down, your eyes on Mr. Layne. Studying him, your eyes narrowed and your hands automatically supported your head up.

You wouldn’t lie, Mr. Layne looked great for his age, not that he was super old, but he exactly young either. Perfectly aged, like red wine. Pale skin implied he didn’t go outside often. His hair presented in dark, loose ringlets, yet sprinkled with white all over. They lay in a messy pattern, though it looked like he tried to tame it by combing it back. Not that it worked. His eyes seemed black with creases, with no shine or sparkle to them, it made him mysterious, made him alluring. It made you want to learn more about this inexplicable man. His nose was sharp, a light scar over the bridge, hinting to a rowdy past. He had an overgrown shave, not too thick or thin, his skin peeking through the white and auburn hair. He was attractive, sexy even.

To put a bow on it, his personality brought it together. He wouldn’t stand for nonsense, but he reciprocated jokes and light-hearted conversation to the best of his abilities. He was a great guy, but something about him was missing, that much you could tell. He didn’t seem to enjoy normal people activities, he would tell you how he doesn’t do much on the weekends and how he doesn’t go on vacations. You were determined to find out more.

“What’d you do this weekend, Mr. Layne?” You questioned, tilting your head and smiling as he looked up at you.

He thought for a moment to make it seem like he did something, even though he didn’t. “Nothing fun or important. I guess I learned a new dish.” He tried his best to give you a satisfying answer, even though he didn’t care much.

Your brows raised in amusement. “You cook?” He nodded. “Do you cook for dinner dates? Who’s the lucky girl, Victor?” You interrogated in a playful yet mischievous tone, hoping to exude some laughter from him. Even though deep down, you truly wanted to know if he had his sights on another woman.

He paused for a moment, looking down for a split second and then back up at you. “That’s Mr. Layne to you, miss. And no, no lucky woman,” He had a soft smile, a soft smile that you deemed superficial.

Your mind wandered, truly confused that a man this attractive, smart, funny, and talented is single. You jumped to the most simple and basic conclusions, he’s either divorced or deemed himself too worthy for anyone. I could change that, you thought.

The silence once again filled the room as more people began spilling into the room, just in time for lecture. As he went on to teach, you would find your eyes stray on him and not the board. You would watch him as he paced back and forth, watched the way his buttoned shirt clung tightly in some areas, like his arms. Occasionally, you would lock eyes with him, just as any professor would make eye contact with his students. But this wasn’t normal, this was longer. This was playful, at least to you. When he would look up at you, you would look him up or down, or bite the top of your pen, or put on chapstick, slowly.

He tried to keep composed, but you could see his brow twitch slightly before furrowing. He knew it was wrong and he shouldn’t give in. But it wouldn’t hurt to wonder, he thought. In his defense, he hadn’t held anyone in years.

Interactions like this would go on, hot and heavy. Sensual glances and a second-too-long hand touches while handing in papers. Once, you even stayed after class, attempting to ask him for help. Basking in the thought he would maintain solidity, he agreed. It was all innocent play at first. Arm touches and swats, flirty yet disguisable compliments. Arm touches turned into thigh caresses, and undercover compliments into blatant flirting, surprisingly from both sides. But he stopped himself before he had done something he regretted. These kind of days drove him crazy. It would make him stay up till 2 A.M, causing him to sip on his drink way past happy hour. It would make his cock twitch at 3 A.M, the thought of you shamefully turning him on in the best most taboo way. He couldn’t handle these contrasting emotions anymore, it was wrecking him.

—

That red glowing clock shone the numbers, 3:56 P.M. FRIDAY Mr. Layne strode around the front of the room, closing up the book in his hands. Sweat trickled down the side of his head and slipped down into the collar of his shirt, leaving its journey down his probably toned body up to your imagination.

His gruff voice snapped you out of your day dream as he spoke, “That’s all for today. Just read the last chapter in your textbook for homework over the weekend. You. Stay after class.” He looked straight at you with a large finger directing at you. He was duller than usual today. Dark half circles pulled at the bottom of his eyes. You gulped any last ounce of anxiety before nodding and picking up your bag to make your way over to his desk. He simultaneously walked to his desk at the same time as you, staring dead at you as you did. He stared at you, not looking away while everyone left the class. His expression was unreadable, just like every other time, except this time, his eyebrows were scrunched. Your heart thumped a bit harder than usual. You looked up at him through your lashes, still subconsciously attempting to seduce him, accidentally of course.

He glanced over to the side, making sure everyone has left. The second the last person left, he turned to you immediately, getting closer. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

You tilted your head, getting an idea of what he was talking about but decided to find out more. “What’re you talking about, Mr. Layne?” your face contorted into a façade of confusion, looking up at him.

“Just stop, stop. The looks, the conversations, all of it. It’s not right.” He huffed, now closer than ever. Even in his moment of anger, you couldn’t help but notice how good he looks with a bead of sweat collecting on his temple. His accent did a number on you as well.

“It doesn’t necessarily feel… wrong.” You shrugged, biting the inside of your cheek, holding back a smirk. You could tell you had an effect on him. What kind of effect? You couldn’t tell. His breathing matched yours, if not heavier than yours. He licked his lips unknowingly, still angry. He suddenly shook his head, as if he just snapped out of it.

He chuckled in disbelief at himself as he took a step back and turned around, in shock he would even think things like this.

“What are you afraid of? You can’t just sit here and blame me after you felt it too-” You ask, in hopes of a solid answer. This conversation had made you wonder if you just had created all the other interactions up in your mind, if you were just delusional and convinced yourself he wanted you.

He just shook his head with his eyes closed. “No. I’m gonna- no!” He stopped himself. “You need to go, I cannot deal with this. It’s my wife’s anniversary and I have places to be-” He stopped himself as the word of his wife slipped out of his mouth. If you recalled right, he had told you he didn’t have one. That gave you all the solidity you needed about him and you.

“You told me you didn’t have a wife. That proves me right, you lied about being single, why else would you lie?”

“Please just go.” He cut you off, turning back around. You both stared at each other, your mouth slightly agape. Huffing, you stomped out, rightfully embarrassed. It was humiliating, you thought you had misinterpreted everything and ended up looking stupid. You went home in shame. Mr. Layne however, began his descent to the local bar downtown.

His wife’s anniversary, he called it, wasn’t what you thought. He wasn’t celebrating their wedding, it was her death date. And every year on this day, he would get absolutely shitfaced in replacement of visiting her grave and mourning her death appropriately. Subconsciously, he had hoped that one day, he would get so wasted that he would hit his head and forget it all, all of it, from his dad to his deceased wife. He didn’t even know if he loved her the same, all the years of drinking corroded his brain and scrambled his feelings. But he liked to drink in her memory, out of respect of course. Because no matter how he decided to feel about her, whether that be love or no feelings at all, they both had a life together at some point and he owed her that recognition.

And so that led him here, in the local bar running on a couple glasses of whiskey with no intention to stop anytime soon. He had intended to get absolutely drunk. A song play softly in the background, something about romance and spewing love letters. It sort of made him sick to his stomach. He took a swig of his current drink and sputtered in anger, “Can we change the fucking song?” He didn’t even know what he was doing, it was like his body had a mind of its own.

The barkeep replied, cleaning a glass, “No, sorry sir. The songs are played randomly, it isn’t in my hands.” The boy-ish bartender shrugged with a crooked smile, hoping that the drunk man in front of him would not make a scene. He went up to piss, grabbing his belt and adjusting as he did. On his way there, he bumped into a blonde man holding a tray of beers. They bumped shoulders which caused the man to spill the drinks.

“The fuck man? Watch where you’re going!” the blonde spoke in a booming voice, but not enough to be considered yelling.

Feeling a bit tipsy, Victor didn’t even know what he was saying. “What’re you gonna do about it?” If he wasn’t irritated and in a haze of emotions, he would never act like this, he was a good man at heart.

The blonde pushed Mr. Layne, causing him to stumble backwards into a table. In a bitter, vengeful manner, he punched the man. That punch caused all hell to break loose. The other man began to punch him back and they started to brawl in the middle of this busy bar. The blonde man ended up jabbing him right in the nose and managed to cut him across his face, a single long cut splaying out across his cheek to his lip. In retaliation to that, Victor punched him right in the cheek, spit flying from the mans mouth with blood coupled along with it. He could’ve sworn he heard a tooth chip. They both got hits in before ending up on the floor shamelessly. Victor got on top of him ,straddling the man on his stomach while punching him. It wasn’t long before a couple workers and the owner of the bar showed up to break them apart. They peeled them apart as their limbs still flailed in a pathetic attempt to break free to hit once more.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Get out!” The owner yelled, practically throwing Victor out of the bar. The blonde man ended up right beside him. “Don’t come back!”

“Your bar fucking sucks anyway!” Mr. Layne yelled back as the owner shut the door. They both sat on the floor panting heavily as people turned their heads, peering at the spectacle. “Cunt.” Victor muttered out as he pulled out a pack of smoked from his pocket. He placed one between his lips before giving one to the bruised man sitting next to him. Pulling out the old, scuffed stainless steel lighter, he lit up his own cig and then he man’s. He got up, then held out a hand to the blonde man to help him up. And then he walked away and that was the end of that. He had hoped to never see him again. Nights like these messed with his head. He wasn’t himself. It was very out of character for him.

He didn’t know what to do, he didn’t want to go home but he was too tired and kind of in pain to go to another bar.

So he just walked downtown. He took a drag, pain taking over his bruised ribs as he inhaled and exhaled. He coughed while he exhaled the smoke, his whole torso throbbing. He sat down on some bench under a street light that was next to a club and just smoked. The muffled music filled his ears and his brain felt like it pulsed to the beat of the music. He could feel tiny drops of blood tricking down his body and his face but he just did not care.

Unbothered, he sat there, smoking. Until he heard a familiar voice from down the side walk. “Mr. Layne?” It was you. You jogged up to him, concerning swarming over your face as you see the beat up state he was in with crimson pooling at the corner of his mouth and the cuts and bruises. “What the hell happened to you?”

He wasn’t sure if he was hallucinating or not. It was like an angel was sent from heaven for him, as if the god’s knew he needed help. He looked up at you like a lost little boy who finally found his mother.

“Are you really here?” His hands reached out to grasp you, double checking your existence. You couldn’t help but chuckle a bit, seeing him in this state like a child. You took a seat next to him and you both faced each other.

“What did you do to your face?”

“Some idiot at the bar. Got him back though-” he spat, wiping off blood from his cheek. “Why are you here?”

“It’s Friday night. I’m obviously gonna be out-” you rolled your eyes somewhat playfully and you couldn’t help but notice his weight shift, like he was loosening up. But then you remembered the incident that happened only a couple hours ago. He didn’t seem to remember, it was the least of his worries. You both just sat there for a moment, thoughts ran through your head. You obviously couldn’t leave him here. “Um, are you gonna get home okay? Where’s your wife?” You ask, leaning your head down to look him in the eyes. When he heard you ask about his wife, he just ignored it. Odd.

He paused and nodded, imagining slugging himself alone once more. “I guess. Yeah I’m all good.” the cigarette butt fell under his foot and became squashed with a shimmy of his foot.

You thought for a moment, deciding he needed someone to clean him up. “No, can I help get you home? At least clean you up a little.” you questioned very quietly. Secretly, this was your attempt to see his home, but it would also be you helping him. Win-win.

He also thought for a moment, his brows scrunching up in an expression you couldn’t read. “Okay,” was all he said before you both got up. “We can walk from here.”

“Fine by me.”

And now you both were here, walking side by side in silence, yet surrounded with chatter from civilians on the street, yet the silence was still unbearably loud.

“What was the fight over?” you asked, in hope of an answer and also to rid of the silence.

“It’s so idiotic.” He chuckled dryly, shaking his head and looking down at his feet with his hands in his pocket.

Your eyes peeked over at him, noticing he was still in the same outfit he was in when you guys shared that moment. The top couple buttons were loose while his tie hung around his neck un-tied. Disheveled black and silver hair lay against his sweat ridden forehead. “I’m sure it was very… cut worthy?” You joked with an amused smile.

That earned you a light laugh. He pulled out another smoke from his pocket and placed it between his lips while he brought out his lighter. He spoke through his teeth with the cig still in his mouth. “Trust me, it was not.” You grinned.

Innocently, you looked over at him as he lit his up with that same old lighter. “Can I have one?”

He peered at you. “They’re bad for you, don’t you know that?” He asked, an almost non-existent smirk splaying onto his face.

You shrugged. “’S fine. Makes me feel good.” He raised a brow, an idea jumping into his head. He took one out and handed it to you and watched intently as you put it between your faded red lips. You both stopped walking so he could light yours up, he brought it up to the tip of it, the heat of fire radiating onto your face.

You took a drag. “Thank you Mr. Layne.” You smiled, once again very innocently. It was like a game.

The walk went on, hands ghosting against each other and silly peeks and peers. It was playful. But before you knew it, you both were at the doorstep of his apartment. The street light hummed softly as he unlocked the door and stepped in with you right behind him.

Immediately, the first thing you noticed was the smell. There was a faint scent of cologne swirled with smoke. He turned on the lights, a yellow-orange light lit up the living room. He had a corduroy sofa with an ashtray on the coffee table. He kind of stood there, it was an awkward moment before you decided to break the deafening silence. But then you looked around for evidence of a woman living here.

“Why aren’t you with your wife? I thought it was your anniversary?” You questioned. Once again no answer. In hopes of an answer, you asked him for his first aid kit. He pointed to a cabinet in the kitchen and you followed behind him. There was a small breakfast table in the corner and he took a seat there while you grabbed the kit and pulled up a chair in front of him.

You placed it on the table and opened it up, grabbing stuff to clean his face up.

“I’m fine really,” He sighed, rubbing his temples. Shaking your head, you pulled out a sterilizing pad to clean his wounds. You ripped it open with your teeth and tossed the wrapper on the table.

“You’re kidding right? You’ve got a black eye and gash from your cheek to your lip. And you’re probably bruising god-knows-where.” You brought it up to his eyebrow, wiping the little wound. He sucked in a sharp breath, shutting his eyes. “It’ll only hurt worse.” You continued to clean his face, but grabbed a new one after it got soiled. In the downtime, you could feel his burning gaze on your skin, heat rising to the top. You looked up, eyes catching his. You both looked at each other. It wasn’t awkward, but his face showed… guilt?

He took in a breath before he spoke, “This is wrong.” He shook his head “This is inappropriate.” You knew he wasn’t talking about cleaning his wounds, but the fact that you, his student, was in his home past hours, touching his face.

Face flat, you responded, “Listen, I’m not gonna sit here and convince you, but you just can’t deny that you didn’t feel.. something, anything. Because that would be a lie, not to me, but yourself. Victor you’re lying to yourself. But it’s fine, You’re right. I know it’s wrong now, you’re married and-”

He cut you off. “She’s dead.”

You paused and looked him in the eyes, which only made him look down. “Huh?”

“My wife, she’s dead.” You were confused.

Huh.. I thought he said…?

“I thought-”

“Well I didn’t say she was alive.” He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. “I said it was her anniversary, her death anniversary.”

You were shocked. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

He brushed it off as nonchalantly as he could, shrugging it off. “Nah, it’s okay, I’m okay.”

“You don’t look okay. Is it a coincidence that you got messy on her anniversary?”

“If I’m being honest, no.” You shook your head, expecting that answer. It went silent again. It seemed silence was a reoccurring instance between you two. But this time, the absence of sound was more mournful, more comforting, for him at least.

“You shouldn’t be here… I’m fucked up, I can’t fuck you up too.” He was lying to himself and you could see right through him. He wouldn’t stop you if anything happened…

“Who else gonna take care of you on nights like this, Mr. Layne?” You looked up at him through your eyelashes like you always do, fluttering your eyes and slightly wetting your lips. “You deserve care and love too.”

In all seriousness, you knew this was wrong. Seducing your professor on a day special to him? Crazy. But could anyone blame you? How could anyone resist the husky, beat up man who’s grunting and panting?

His eyes locked with yours as his tongue swiped against the corner of his mouth, swiping the somewhat dried blood away. Neither of you knew what happened, but an unknown force took over both of you. Something unnatural took over you, causing both of you to lean forward, lips touching.

It was absolutely electric. Shocking. Painful, for him at least. So wrong but so fucking good at the same time. The fact that it was so inappropriate made it feel even better. You deepened the kiss, testing the waters by pushing your tongue against his lips. Reluctantly, he obliged. From there on it only got better.

Your hands found your way into his unkept hair, tugging softly as your teeth clashed and your tongues fought for dominance. Your chairs ended up scooting closer together and your knees were touching, but it didn’t stay like that for long. Hands still in his hair, you both raised up and you ended up against his wall with a knee between your legs.

He was panting you were scrunching your legs together. He looked so good like this, sweaty with his shirt half done and his belt ready to come undone. You could feel it between your legs, feel him.

“Tell me to stop.” He broke away from you, a roguish twinkle in his eyes appearing. “Tell me to stop, please. If I keep going, I’m gonna do something I’ll regret.” Your response to him was to grab his face and place your lips where they belong, on top of his.

He couldn’t even think straight anymore. He couldn’t even think about the magnitude of his actions, how much it would affect him the next morning, but none of that mattered at the moment. None of that mattered when he had a beautiful young woman ready to be putty in his hands.

Your hips rolled against his knee, subliminally yearning for some sort of friction. Your action didn’t go unnoticed by him. You could hear him mutter under his breath, something along the lines of, so needy.

It was almost as if he was scared to touch you. Scared that something would happen. He didn’t know why. It might have been the underlying guilt.

“I won’t break,” your words came out a soft pant, looking up at him.

A tiny smile snuck onto his face and you noticed.

He had guided you to his room, articles of clothing littering your bee line there. His tie, your shirt and his. You were flat on his bed and was on top of you, his face buried in your neck as he sucked and nibbled.

It has been practically forever since he got some, but he stayed just as skillful as he was in his 20′s. Thank god for that. You were seeing stars just with him leaving purple marks on your neck. He got up for a moment, eyes scanning all the way down. His chest was heaving up and down and just like always, sweat dripped down his temple. His eyes drooped low, you couldn’t tell if he was drunk off alcohol or you. His burning gaze made you feel small. It was almost predatorial, the age gap didn’t help. You felt controlled, but it turned you on. He wouldn’t lie and say he wasn’t turned on either, but he couldn’t help but feel a small twinge of guilt.

Eyes locked with yours, his hands found his way to the hem of your bottoms, ripping them off to reveal your white panties. His fingers fumbled with the edge of them, eventually pulling them down and exploring his way around your heat. His fingers teased, ghosting touches against your thighs just like you would tease him in class. The sight of him above you drove you wild. And your imagination was right, he was fit.

“Remember all those times you would tease me during class and get away with it?” A pathetic mewl left your mouth in response to his condescending tone, back arching in hopes of his fingers to touch you. God his accent was so hot. Everyday you thanked God for British people.

“Please..” the way he had you begging before he even touched you was filthy.

A scoff left his mouth, a finger softly caressing right above your clit. You couldn’t take anymore. He mercifully started to rub your bud softly, watching your face intently as he did. Gasps filled his ears as he picked up the pace. You could feel your skin burning as he slid in a finger, earning a sweet whine from your cherry stained lips.

“Shit, faster.” According to your request, he added another finger and pumped faster, his hand rhythmically rubbing your clit simultaneously. Everything about him was perfect and everything you learned about him only proved you right. He was hot, can cook, teaches, respectful, AND good with his hands? It only made you wonder what his dick could do. It only made you want to cum on his hand faster.

Praises fell from his mouth as he watched your face scrunch, he could tell your getting closer.  You squeezed around his finger. “C’mon baby, let it go now.” it only pushed you over the edge as you coated his fingers. You pulsed around him and he groaned. His cock strained through his jeans, hardened against his thigh. You whimpered softly as he pulled his fingers out, and you still clenched around nothing. He wasted no time, hands going straight to his belt.

He ripped it off and swung it across the room like a cowboy, letting his pants down and his cock spring free. You sat up on your elbows and watched him while he was perched between your legs, pumping himself.

The sight just made you salivate. His cock in his hands while he watches you writhe beneath him,  succumbing to submission. Who knew sleeping with your professor would be the best decision you make all year.

Your back arched, shamelessly begging for him. He knew what you were asking for and if he wasn’t so ready, he would’ve made you work for it. But he was willing to be nice. He positioned himself perfectly, and pushed himself in right when you least expected it. It made you yelp. His thrusts were perfectly, periodically timed.

Your legs wrapped around him as his head found its place in your neck, once again nibbling. He was big you wouldn’t lie, it made tears prick at your eyes. Loud whimpers and groans filled the room as well as the creaking of the bed.

“Fuck, Victor-” You panted out, head cloudy.

His pace slowed down dramatically and you, once again, whimpered pathetically.

“Mr. Layne.” Props to him for keeping it professional.

“ ‘M sorry, Mr. Layne, move please.” You pleaded, how could he say no to such a face? But it wouldn’t hurt to tease.

“God, always so fucking disrespectful, calling your teacher by his first name… do you really deserve it?” He made a domineering face, a fake puppy dog expression.

“Please, I’m sorry, please fucking move,” he enjoyed watching you squirm on his dick, he was a filthy man. You had no idea someone like him could be like this.

So he began moving, faster than last time. Vulgar noises of skin slapping grew louder as he snaked his hand down your body, toying at your clit. His grunts became groans and your whimpers became moans as you both creeped closer and closer. The noises were obscene. The room was filled with wet, slapping noises and breathless moans. The knot in your stomach churned and twisted tighter as his fingers rubbed merciless circles on your clit. You could feel him hit your sweet spot, harder and deeper every time.

“Fuck, so good s’ good,” he repeated his praises and breathed out your name like a mantra. One last rub of his fingers and thrust of his hips had you seeing white and your back arched higher than you thought it could reach. You pulsed and fluttered around his dick and that only pushed him over the edge. He pulled out and came on your stomach, spurting hot ropes over you.

Mutters of oh my god, and fuck came from both of you, still not sure of who said what. Your name fell from his lips like it was the last thing he’d ever say. He flopped down on the bed beside you and sleep hit you like a truck. Your eye lids pulled immediately, your body very obviously tired from fucking. You had thought to get up to use the bathroom, but you fell asleep.

Mr. Layne however, could not fall asleep at all. He got a rag to clean your stomach while you slept, it only soothed you into deeper sleep. After that, however, he didn’t know what to do.

He felt sick, psychically ill and guilty. Regret and shame flooded his mind as he slipped on a pair pajama pants made his way to the balcony in his bedroom, grabbing a smoke. The whole scene took him back, him sitting on a balcony on a windy night while the stench of alcohol and cigarettes filled his nose, like the night he left when he was 17. He looked over at you through the glass, body covered with his blanket and your hair all messy, yet still so pretty.

He hated it, he hated how he did this. He felt like a bad person. He took a drag and blew it out and rested his face in his hands.

“Fuck.” He didn’t know what he would do tomorrow morning. He wanted to tell you to leave and that this was a mistake, have you transferred out of his class. But subconsciously, another part of him wanted to stick his dick in your mouth first thing tomorrow morning. He would cross that bridge of shame when he got to it.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #462

i am way too tired to mentally flip through lyrics to put here, rip

Who in your family has been married the longest? (and how long?) I have zero idea. When did you last travel alone? Where were you going? The last time I visited Sara in Illinois. Do you take your shoes off when you come inside? Yes. What was the first color you ever dyed your hair? I think I got purple highlights? What was the first social media site you ever used? MySpace. Do you have any exes you really regret dating? One. Of all your friends & family, who has the most nicely-decorated home? Sara's house is lovely. Have you ever been catcalled? No. Are you allergic to any dogs? I might be. Have you ever touched a plant and had hives shoot up your arm? No. Do you think dragonflies are cool? Absolutely! What’s your favorite thing to draw? Meerkats!! Did you toss your hat in the air at graduation? Not high. I wanted to keep it. Do you like fudge? I CAN FUCKING DESTROY SOME FUDGE. Are you an affectionate person? Very. Name something you have to do today: Girt and I are hangin', making fun of bad Netflix anime and going to Buffalo Wild Wings. :^) Would you ever write to a death row inmate? No. People don't get on death row for no reason. I ain't got shit to say to them. Do you reckon online friendships are real? No fucking shit. Most of my most genuine friendships began online. Do you like Slipknot? Yep. Can we talk about how fuckin BADASS Corey's new mask is btw?????????? What do you think of Gorillaz? I like "Feel Good Inc." and one other song I can't remember the name of. Bow ties on guys, dorky or adorable? BOTH!!!!! :') What is the cutest Halloween costume for a baby to wear? GUYS I recently saw a picture of a little baby dressed up as a Little Oogie Boogie and it made my ovaries cry. Which of your friends is the tallest? Which of them is the shortest? Jesus, Girt is a giant. I don't know about my shortest... If you could re-paint your bedroom, what color would you choose? Pastel pink. :') What has been the best night of your life so far? Why? Probably something sexual so let's keep it on the down low lmfaooo Would you ever even think about taking part in a wet t-shirt contest? Uh, no. Even if I WAS confident in my body. Is you hair color the same as it was when you were a baby? No. It was dirty blonde. Have you ever been in trouble for being too loud? Ha, yeah, at school with friends. Not big trouble or anything, we were just hushed. Did you ever attend a wedding that was a complete disaster? No. What is something that you were surprised you were able to do? Hm. What is the most bullshit-sounding true fact that you know? Male cats have spiked penises lkasdjfal;kje;kjwr it's something to do with preventing other tomcats from mating with her. What Oreo flavor is your favorite? Gimme that Double Stuffed, friend. Sour gummy worms or plain gummy worms? SOUR. Ever been in a talent show? How many times? What did you do? Nope. Ever try out for the talent show and not make it? Did you cry? Nope. What’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever cried about? Y'all when I was a very little kid, during my older sister's b-day party, I sobbed because I couldn't pin the tail properly on the donkey lmaoooo How do you feel about the use of nuclear weapons? Absolutely fucking barbaric. What song has the most meaning to you? "Life Won't Wait" by Ozzy Osbourne. What is your favourite dinosaur? Spinosaurus!!!! :') Have you ever made bread? No. Has anything ever fallen asleep on you? Pets, a baby I was watching after, and Jason. Ever been dominated in a game you were/are really good at? yep alskdjfla;jwej Have you ever decided to set fire to something out of anger? No. Would you rather be a house pet or a wild animal? Wild animal, I guess? Have you ever listened to a group of chanting monks? I haven't. If you had to get a portrait tattoo, who would it be of? Probably of Teddy. I've still yet to decide on the total design of his tribute tat I'm getting. Do you like the smell of men’s colognes better than woman’s perfumes? I think so, yeah. How mad would you be if someone copied your original work (story, poem)? I'd be pretty fuckin pissed. Have you ever blown something up in science class? Ha, no. Have you ever gotten a serious wound from shaving? Not serious, no. Have you invented anything, only to find out it actually exists? I feel like I have? Ever realize you never truly LOVED your first love? Absolutely not. I loved him. Would you want a Bachelor/Bachelorette party before you get married? Sure, sounds fun. Do you prefer pads, tampons or something else? As of very recently, I returned to using pads. I used tampons for most of my maturity, but I got annoyed with them for TMI reasons and resorted back to pads, even though I don't like them either. Have you ever dated a model? No. What is your ultimate goal in life? To die happy with my life and what I (hopefully) accomplished. What colour are the socks you’re wearing today? I’m not wearing any. Who was the last person you sent a Facebook message to and what did you say? Girt. It was something regarding how I once considered doing the suicide mission at BWW where you eat a select number of their hottest wings, but I didn't wanna die via chicken. :^) Are you tall, short or average? Would you change this? I'm average in height. I wouldn't change it, nah. Especially now that Girt and I are together the ridiculous height difference is hilarious but also cute lmao. Have you ever worked in a store while someone shoplifted there? Like, while I was there? No. Have you ever had casual sex? Nahhhh. What’s your favourite flavour of frosting? Chocolate. @_@ When you think of your childhood, are the memories mostly happy or sad? Mostly happy, I guess. What is it like being you? Is it enjoyable? It's very boring with few sources of joy. What are your thoughts on the cause of homosexuality? I would *assume* it's a genetic mutation. Reason being, having a romantic partnership without the ability to reproduce defies the motives of science. There is nothing, absolutely NOTHING, wrong with said (and hypothetical) genetic mutation, though. Mutations are just another part of science. They occur naturally. What subjects did you find most interesting in school? Least? Most interesting: literature/English (especially reading like, old mythology and epics and stuff like that), LOTS of branches of science (but primarily genetics), art, and I looooved my four semesters of German. Least: ANY and ALL math, history, economics, social studies... that kind of stuff. Which do you enjoy more–hot or cold beverages? Cold, for sure. What were some of your favorite bands from childhood? Green Day was one. Would you be more afraid of drowning or being buried alive? Buried alive, for sure. It would be much, much slower. Should you really be doing something more productive right now? Well, I SHOULD be sleeping. Today's going to be a long day, because when Girt comes over, he has a tendency to not leave until like fuckin midnight or later alksdjfl;waje Have you ever lived out of your car? No. Does your family own more than two houses? HUNNY we r poor. A relative just committed a very serious crime, do you turn them in? It depends on the exact crime, but odds are, yes. If you're endangering others, byyyyeeee. You’re in the woods, alone, at night…are you honestly not afraid? Bitch I'm terrified. I have zero survival skills. You are on life support, what would you want a loved one to do about it? For the love of god, please kill me. Your child has only a while to live, do you still enroll them in school? That would be up to them. Also, define "a while." How would you feel if you met your idol and they ended up being rude? WELP I have a tattoo in his honor so that would suck ass lmao According to the tale, was Eve wrong for eating and sharing the apple? "God was wrong for even setting up an apple tree and making up rules in the first place." <<<< There ya go. And the punishment was fucking ludicrously extreme. Are you working on any goals? Yes. I'm currently going to the gym regularly to try and better my physical health and then find a job. I know that being connected sounds odd, but trust me: I can barely carry out very simple tasks just because I have absolutely ZERO stamina to do almost anything. I need energy and endurance. I'm also working towards developing some self-love. Which parent named you? I wanna say my mom. Are you currently frustrated with someone? I mean, myself. Aforementioned self-love is hard. I'm just annoyed my head is so reluctant to accept that I'm not a piece of shit for a million reasons. Why have most of your past relationships ended? They all ended for different reasons, really. Are you having any online conversations, currently? I'm not. What’s on your mind? I'm just tired and going back to bed real soon. Have you ever had an argument with a teacher? No.

[bitchiha]

A/N: I accidentally posted the request before I finished LOL. So I don’t know much about Tsundere relationships, but I did some reading on it just before I started writing and I hope I did the request some justice! Also I’m literally Kankuros bitch <3

Ps, I’m sorry I didn’t put a keep reading thingy idk how to do it on mobile and my trash laptop is broken 😭😭

Also I didnt include tobirama bc I absolutely hated how his turned out and I had to delete it im sorry 😖

✎ Tsundere relationship! (Hidan, Kank, Naruto)

Kankurō

Ahh, where to start? I think you’ll meet on a mission co partnered with the Leaf...

You and Shikamaru are sent to assist the Sand on a mission. Now, we already know Kankurō is a bit of a sassy mf when it comes to the Leaf like I think he whole heartedly believes the Sand is superior and you also have those feelings about your own village... So there’s an instant dislike for one another. Kinda like an instant rivalry.

Literally the first thing you say to him is “So, the Sand can’t take care of their own missions?” And that sets Kankurō off, “What, how dare you- ack! Temari, that hurt! I’m not gonna let her walk all over us like that, I’ll fight you right now you Leaf Village bi- ow! Temari!” Shikamaru has to hold you back LMFAOO you’re ready to throw hands “Huh, what’s that? Sounds like you’re really determined for me to kick your ass?” He lowkey liked when you said that to him lol.

Anyways, the two of you are bickering the whole entire way to the missions destination. You’ll tease eachother about anything and everything you can. So, once you find out about his puppet master jutsu its only natural that you fall on the floor with laughter. Like full on tears and strangled breathing. Now this is something you can really tease him about.

“What! You still play with dolls? I bet you have little sleep over parties with them and do their hair-“

You’re cut off because he tries to trap you in the Ant. Temari has to strangle him and force him to let you out. You’re lucky he didn’t iron maiden your ass LMFAOO.

This is the kind of the energy you guys carry whenever you see eachother from now on. He’ll see you more often too because you carry out a lot of Leaf and Sand allied missions and duties. Rip to anyone who gets put on a mission with you two tbh.

But on one particularly hard mission it ends up down to the two of you fighting off like 10 enemies. He’s trying to focus on fighting them, but he can’t stop thinking about if you’re okay. His distractedness earns him a particularly hard blow.

You end up having to fight off the remaining enemies yourself, all the while protecting him. The last thing he remembers is you screaming his name when he gets hit and the fear that was in your eyes at seeming him like that. It slowly turns to anger and then you kick the bad guys asses. He’s like half conscious but is laying there like: whatta bad bitch. Then he passes out.

Starts to really admire you after that and his comments aren’t as snarky when he sees you next. It’s more like little jabs and teases because that’s how he shows his affection, but they were no longer the hardcore roasts he’d dish out before. You probably stop flaming his ass too because let’s be real here; you’ve both obviously been attracted to each other from the start you just didn’t want to admit it.

Like cmon, he didn’t wait for you at the gates every single time he knew you were visiting just to insult you first. No. He came there to see your cute ass first!!Same goes for you, like you didn’t take all the missions to the Sand for nothing. You came there to see your fav hot headed puppet master.

He’ll ask you out a few months later, when you end up at the Sand again. Probably takes you to dinner before going back to his place. I 100% see him showing you his puppets and this time you’ll actually show your interest and not just tease him lol. Probably ends up making out with you on his workbench. Ok that’s all.

Naruto

You meet eachother for the first time at Ichirakus. Second to Naruto, you actually bring in the most cash for the place. So it’s surprising you two had never met each other before.

Until now of course. He’s just gotten back from a long mission and he’s dying for some ramen. He strolls right in and orders a miso pork ramen, but the old man tells him there’s no more pork left.

Probably flips his shit like who tf ate it all?? Then the old man points at you. You’re sitting there chowing down you’re literal 15th bowl, the giant stack of empty bowls next to you proving it. You watch the blondie charge right at you while you eat the last miso pork bowl of ramen for the day.

You put the bowl down and wipe your face just as he stops right infront of you, very close to your face. You can see the anger in his eyes, but you are not giving up. Also, the guy looks sorta comical so you basically laugh in his face which gets him more worked up.

“What are you laughing about? You just ate all of old mans pork for the day!! That last bowl is mine, believe it!” Once again you laugh in his face because you just can’t help yourself. Probably end up fist fighting eachother on the spot. Neither of you win because one of you ends up smashing into the bowl, sending it flying right at the old man. He kicks you both out, right after you pay your tab of course.

This arises a competition of who will eat all the miso pork ramen first, it goes on for a good few months. Ichirakus is swimming in your money now. Until one day, when you two arrive at Ichirakus at the same time. You basically have a show down. Unfortunately both your wallets are cleaned out and you can’t even pay off your bills anymore so you’re now indebted to the ramen place.

Narutos mission money won’t even cut it anymore and you can’t pay your debt off either. So you both have to get a job doing Ichirakus dishes until you can pay your debt off.

At first you two wanna strangle each other everytime youre in each others line of sight. But slowly — veryyyy slowly, you start to bond over your love for ramen. Like you can probably sniff the bowls before you clean them and tell instantly what ramen was eaten out of it.

You discover you both have the same favourite instant ramen, the same favourite Ichirakus order, etc... Then before you know it you actually start dating. Nobody knows how it happened because you were rivals for a good couple of months, but now all the sudden your holding hands while and eating ramen together peacefully. Mind blown.

Hidan

You’re a brand new Akatsuki member and you’re cute. Really cute. Not only was Deidara drooling over you too, Kakuzu just asked to file your taxes. Do you even do taxes? You’re a rouge ninja. Anyways, Hidan is so sure that Jashin would love to have you.

You two start taking to eachother and actually getting along pretty well, until he mentions Jashin. You shut him down so quickly after that. Like you’re not interested in his fake God, no matter how cute he is.

From then on he tries to ignore you or is just super petty towards you all the time. Like you just got back from a failed mission with your Akatsuki partner and he’s at the hideout mocking you like “if you prayed to Jashin with me this wouldn’t have happened.”

Literally so fucking petty.

Anytime you suggest an idea to the Akatsuki he immediately tears it down. It doesn’t really matter when he does though because nobody really listens to Hidan anyways, it’s just annoying.

You two get put on a mission together one day because Kakuzu has some important money buisness to take care of. Hidans so pissy about it, “oh come on! Out of everybody you picked y/n? She doesn’t even respect my religion, how are we supposed to work together!?” Kakuzu just looks at him and is like “Hidan, I don’t care about Jashin either.”

Butthurt the whole journey. If you guys get bombarded or run into trouble he probably doesn’t even bother backing you up. If anything he tries to feed you to them LMFAOOO. Such a jerk.

Then, once he thinks that all the bad guys are gone he turns to you all confidently because you got your ass whooped and he’s like “see, I bet if you prayed to Jashin you wouldn’t be injured this bad-“

An enemy just stabbed him right through the chest and he watches the look of shock on your face. That’s when he gets an idea. He falls on the floor super fucking dramatically and you have to take the last guy down for him.

Then you kneel next to him and cradle his body because yes he was such a petty bitch but he actually started to grow on you. So you cry and in this distressed moment you probably even attempted to pray to Jashin because you’re desperate as fuck.

This bitch really makes his eyes flutter open and is like; “y/n?” Really fucking plays off that he was unconscious, “Jashin... Jashin saved me.”

Your ass just got clowned but I mean you believe it because like he just got stabbed right through the heart. Even immortal people should die if they were stabbed in the heart, right? It seemed like it was the case.

So yah he basically just emotionally manipulated you into being semi interested in his religion.

Then he stops being petty with you and probably asks you to sleep with him as an offering to Jashin. “It’s only fitting! He just saved my life afterall.”

Literal definition of a sleeze bag <3