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dreamcatcherrs · 3 years

Text

dating a faceless streamer/youtuber; mcyt x reader

+ this was a request, but it got deleted in my drafts ;-; sorry!

dream:

since he is also a faceless youtuber

he’s very understanding of keeping your privacy

and whatever reason you have to not reveal your face, he respects it

he knows what it’s like to have people tell him to face reveal

sometimes his voice will just appear in the back of your streams/videos

like in sapnap’s with the question about one direction

and chat is like, how long has he been here?????

the two of you would hint at a face reveal

and then after weeks brush it off like it was nothing

because you like to torture the fans, I guess🙄

because dream never has a face cam on

he has the perfect seat for you on his lap whenever he streams/films

and the same thing goes for when you film/stream; he’ll be sitting right next to you with his hand in yours or on your thigh

you’re known as the faceless couple

georgenotfound:

it really doesn't bother him at all that you’re a faceless streamer/youtuber

I don't see him as the type to post a whole lot of pictures with his s/o anyways

or something along those lines

so it wouldn't make a big difference to him

would just think it was funny to tease chat about knowing what you look like, when they don't

and then having them just hear you voice in the background of his videos sometimes

but not actually seeing you

he kinda likes that your relationship is more concealed

and that it’s harder for people to come at you when they don't know what you look like exactly, just because he’s dating you

because that would honestly be his biggest worry when revealing your relationship

so he’s happy that’s one less worry :)

sapnap:

does everything to not get people to beg for a face reveal

he doesn't want people to put that kind of pressure on you

especially if they go after you for it just because you're dating him

like, he will make a video about it if he has to

or tweet about it

the last thing he wants is for the fake fans to try and reveal your face or other things about you

when clearly that’s what you wanna keep private

that being said, he’d do so many streams with you

wether it’s gong against each other, or being on the same team

you always have so much fun together

even if you're literally in the same room together

if his face cam is on, he’d look over at you every now and then and send you a smile or some shit like that

there’s some pretty cute moments - expect a compilation

badboyhalo:

bad would be really proud to have an s/o who did youtube/streamed

and he would for sure help you out if you ever needed him to!

like with coding

or just general growth in your channel

wouldn't really care if you showed your face or not - whatever you're happy with makes him happy

he would just make sure that you never felt pressured to show your face

he knows people out there can be meanies

and come for you just because you don't show your face

and he’d always be there to talk to about it if it ever stressed you out

he would also make sure that you didn't hide your face because you didn’t like it or something like that

and if that was the case, you bet he’d be reassuring you

calling your all kinds of sweet things and show you lots of love

he takes lots of pictures of his two favourite girls

you and rat, of course (without showing your face, obviously)

technoblade:

he actually really likes that you're a faceless streamer/youtuber

like, he doesn't notice how much he likes it

before he realises all of the times you'd sneaked some hand-holding while streaming, or shared little kisses when on mute wouldn't have been possible if you both didn't show your faces

you’d share these secret glances when streaming/filming together

and no one would even know about it

sometimes his chat hears a little talking in the background from you

but techno just brushes it off like you weren't sitting right next to him the entire time

and vice versa

he also just stays with you when you're working

sharing small touches and words

chat also notice eventually how much you gush over each other without noticing

it happens A LOT more than you realise

especially from his side🤭

wilbur soot:

okay so

I think wilbur would have a hard time not showing you off to stream every second of the day

he would just always talk about you and want you there with him in his streams

and miss your touch after 5 minutes of being apart

but would be totally respectful of you wanting to remain faceless

he would just talk to you from an angle where chat couldnt see you

but yeah, he loves that you do the same type of job as him

and most of all, you motivate each other on days where you can't be bothered to even get out of bed

you’re definitely that couple that everyone makes cute compilations of

and that everyone strives to be

chat loves you, what more can I say

corpse husband:

ANOTHER FACELESS COUPLE

the power you two hold over everyone is actually immaculate

you stream/film together all the time

just having fun and being yourselves

he would definitely ask if you could join the games he plays with others when streaming

and if that wasn't possible, he’d just get you to come into his room and be part of it that way

he teases you a lot on stream

both cutely and mischievously

and your viewers are like👀

while his chat is just going crazy

you share lots of giggles

like, seriously, the majority of the videos/streams consists of you two laughing your asses off

you two will forever be known as the faceless couple

even if you both face reveal, that’ll always be your title

skeppy:

zak will find a way to show you off no matter what

he just can't resist

the way his heart is always beating out of his chest because of you is just too much for him to not ever show you to the world

but of course with your consent only

he wouldn't ever pressure you or anything

but since you're only remaining faceless

you can expect LOTS of matching outfit pictures taken in the mirror

and just lots of pictures of you in general

with your face blocked out or not in view, of course

you'd always be helping each other with your setups or videos

and he’d want to introduce you to literally everyone he knows

especially bad

you don't necessarily stream/film a lot with each other

but you're always in each others’ company in some shape or form

he always mentions you in his streams

just small stories or conversations

chat can tell he’s head over heels for you

karl jacobs:

he's the most support person everrr

he’d always be celebrating even the tiniest achievements with you

you hit 2k subs? he’ll treat you to an expensive ass dinner

you hit 1 million subs? he’ll buy you a whole room full of filming gear to improve from your previous ones

you managed to finish that one video you've been struggling with? he takes you on a weekend trip to somewhere you’ve always wanted to go

he’ll beg you to join him in is streams

just so he can hold your hand :)

or laugh with you every once in a while

he doesn't need you to face reveal at all

your company is all that matters to him when it includes the rest of the world

I mean, he’s the one able to see your beautiful face all the time, so he can't really complain even if he felt like it

always tweets about you or tweets things at you that only you two understand

and everyone is like ?????

but you don't care :)

fundy:

fundy actually doesn't talk a lot about you in his streams or videos

mostly to avoid people leaving bad light on you in the chat

unless he’s in the same game as you, of course

which in that case, the first thing he’d want to do is find you and talk to you in the game

he’s very respectful of you keeping your face private

and tries his best to keep the pressure of a face reveal off your shoulders

especially if it’s happening in his or your comments

if it gets really bad, he’ll eventually talk about it on twitter or something like that

does tiktoks with you

only with your voice though

and posts manyyy pictures where you’re tagged, but only slightly in view

he doesn't really care about your face being a secret

as long as he gets to see it, he’s happy

quackity:

alex has so much fun making videos or going live with you

and obviously you have the best collabs

you’re the funniest couple on the platform and it shows

he would talk so much about you - like, telling embarrassing stories about you or some shit like that

or saying how clingy you are with him

and chat would be like AWW HE TALKS ABOUT THEM

and he's like “no”😤

but alex can't fool anyone

he’s in it for real with you🥴

and at times, he doesn't even try to hide it

especially when he speaks up about ho proud he is of you

and how people should respect your choice of remaining faceless to the world

but then he quickly moves on to his silly self again

with blushy cheeks ^w^

punz:

has you on his lap constantly

even when his hand-cam is on

nothing will stop him from making you sit on his lap while he’s streaming

he loves that he can rant to you about the problems he faces sometimes concerning his streams

because you get it

he’d teach you the games you didn't know of

and you'd teach him the games that he didn't know of

and then you'd stream/film together after learning the basics

he doesn't talk about you a lot on stream

but chat eventually figures out it’s because you're literally in the same room as him

and how do they find that out, you may ask?

well, your snores coming from his headphones made it very obvious to say the least

awesamdude:

sam knows what it’s like being a faceless streamer

so if you wanted, he’d give you all of the advice you needed

and if you ever considered face revealing, he'd totally help you!

you guys have matching setups

you sometimes talk to each other across the room as you're playing the same game together

because it’s funny to tease chat that way

you’d be posting pictures on social media

that give off hints that you're with each other a lot

like, in one photo he’s wearing a hoodie

and the next day, you post a photo of you in that exact same hoodie

stuff like that

he also celebrates big and small achievements with you

wether it be you achieving them or him, you always celebrate together

eret:

matching. outfits.

STRAWBERRY DRESSES

PLATFORM HEELS

ahhhh chat would be going absolutely crazy at the fits you guys have sometimes

and you're always matching

as in always

he tells their stream that you have a matching crown like his

but that chat obviously can't see it on you because you don’t have a face-cam

she likes telling stories about you

like, memories they have of you two together

and he just always compliments you and praises you for your hard work on her streams

telling everyone how happy you make them

she also always invites you to join his streams because it means a lot to them that you're there :)

jack manifold:

jack is so excited about the fact that you're also a streamer/youtuber

it makes it easier to open up about your relationship online

because some people already knew you before you revealed you two were dating

though I feel like jack would kinda like the secrecy of your face online

just to brag to his audience about how he gets to see your face every day

but also because he likes that there’s more privacy for you

sometimes he’d pop into your room without knowing you were streaming/filming

and would just start talking to you while you giggled about how you were “kinda in the middle of something”

when jack realised what you meant, he’d hurry out of the room in an instant

you’d always be in each others chats/comments

showing what a supportive couple you were

he always raids you at the end of his streams if you’re streaming at the same time

tommyinnit:

tommy always forgets that you're a faceless streamer/youtuber

and is sometimes sooo close to blurting out something he shouldn't

because he’s so used to seeing you, he just kinda forgets that no one else can

you always have to send him a text to “sToP TalKIng AbOUt yOu” so he doesn't accidentally reveal something

that being said, he literally talks so much about you

again, I’m bringing up that time he said that tubbo is so clingy

he says the same thing about you

but he’s really the clingy one, and it’s pretty obvious

you catch him saying things like “yeah, y/n is really cool”

or “guys, please don't say stuff like that to y/n”

getting all serious and shit🥺

he asks you constantly if you can join his vc

even when you're busy, he’s like “pay. attention. to. me😤”

it’s really entertaining sometimes

especially when his streams just consist of you two bickering the whole time

calls you his favourite woman

tubbo:

ahhh tubbo is so sweet when it comes to you

like, when anyone mentions you he just starts smiling

and wants to tell everyone about you

even if they already know you from your channel

he just can't help but ramble on about you

especially to tommy

he replies to all of your tweets

and you reply to all of his

you always feature each other on your channels/streams

and share a celebratory cake when reaching subgoals

sometimes chat notices similarities in your layouts

like a colour change

or a similar pattern

posts a photo of your pinkies intertwined

wearing matching bracelets you made yourself

and everyone finds it super cute<3

ranboo:

he would encourage you so much to join his videos

and wear the same type of outfit to cover your face with

but with a sense of yourself in it so you'd look similar, but not exactly like each other

you'd be matching outfits so often

doesn't talk a lot about you on his streams

apart from mentioning how short you are

but on TWITTER

that's a whole other story

his twitter has practically just become a fan account of you

he’s always in your comments

just to leave a :)

or a supportive comment

if you ever wanted to do a face reveal

he would do it with you if it meant making you feel more comfortable about it

or less nervous

you’re just very lowkey and cute

___________________________________

tag list✰

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plooto · 8 months

Note

why do you think it’s alright to blaze porn on minors’ dashes?

oh , are you the minor.. ?

#✉️ ⋆ ˚｡⋆#faceless meanies #my first hate anon in 4 years #cmon now #get a grip #i was doing the same #let’s get real #i’m literally on a flight #rae whispers 🫧 // chats

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mypoisonedvine · 3 years

Text

Making Ends Meet | dark!Mandalorian x reader

summary: you’re just a simple woman trying to make your way in the universe, with the universe’s oldest profession. unfortunately for you, a new customer doesn’t plan on going easy on you.

word count: 3.2k

warnings: smut (dub con), kidnapping (?? kinda), prostitution, rough sex, pain kink, lots and lots of degradation, ooc mando being a meanie

please do not read if this content would be triggering or upsetting for you, dark fics aren’t for everyone and it is your responsibility to manage your own content consumption

If you were going to have any hope of making rent this month, you needed to book someone tonight— and not a cheapskate who’d try to stiff you after he’d already stiffed you, no, you needed a big spender, a high roller. You needed somebody who had extra credits to throw around and wore it on his sleeve.

You needed a guy like the one who had just walked in— with beskar on his sleeve. That’ll do quite nicely, you thought to yourself as you watched the Mandalorian cross the room to talk to the bartender.

Seemed like he was here on business, unfortunately, from the way he didn’t even venture a glance at you or any of the other women skulking about; but then again, you couldn’t be entirely sure where he was looking with that big helmet covering his face. It might not be the easiest sell, but you were determined to get this guy for the night— and, more importantly, his money.

Walking up to the bar with your best sultry saunter, you leaned in beside him and smiled as he turned his head to look at you. "Hey," you purred. "Haven't seen you around before. We don't get a lot of new faces around here… even when they're hidden."

He didn't say anything, which was a little concerning, but his head tilted down a bit as if he was looking at your body, which was a good sign.

“What brings you to Tatooine, hm? Business…” you trailed off as you ghosted your fingertips over his armor-clad forearm, “or pleasure?”

“Business is my pleasure,” he informed you sternly.

“And pleasure is my business,” you countered with a smirk. Before you could say anything else, the bartender returned with a sack in his palm that he tossed into the Mandalorian’s hands, something metallic jingling inside.

“For a job well done,” he explained with a crooked, toothy smile, “as promised.”

“Payday, huh?” you noticed, your tongue darting out to wet your lips. “Never comes often enough, amirite?”

Your quip was met with tense silence as he slipped the bag into a sack at his waist. He turned to leave, but you reached out for his shoulder and stopped him.

“Wait,” you requested, desperation starting to taint your tone of voice. He spun and faced you again, and you tried to keep your body language relaxed and sensual in spite of your stress. “What are you gonna spend all that on?”

“My ship,” he decided after a quick moment.

“Why not spend it on yourself? You must be tired after working a long, hard day,” you sighed sympathetically, stepping a little closer. “Why don’t you stay a bit longer and take a moment to relax?”

It didn’t seem like he knew what to do with that, and you motioned to a wide, cushioned chair nearby. Amazingly, it worked; he walked to the chair with that swagger of his, the blaster at his hip suddenly so much more obvious with the way it swung with every step. As soon as he sat down, you put a leg up beside him, straddling him slightly but leaving enough space to (hopefully) have him wanting more.

“You must be getting hot under there,” you smiled, making sure the double entendre was obvious.

“Maybe I am,” he shrugged.

“All this heavy armor... does it get uncomfortable?”

“I’m comfortable,” he denied.

“Good,” you purred before biting down on your lip as you rubbed his chest— or, rather, his chestplate. “You know, I’ve heard that Mandalorians are even harder underneath the steel.”

He paused a little before he answered. “Only in a few key places,” he finally replied, his gloved hand reaching to brush over your thigh. You grinned, knowing you finally had him.

“Why don’t you come to my room and show me?” you suggested.

“I imagine your time isn’t free,” he observed.

“Fifty credits for an hour, or a hundred for the whole night,” you enumerated.

“That’s a little steep,” he noted with a tone of irritation.

“It’s my price,” you shrugged, “take it or leave it.”

“I’ll leave it,” he decided, shoving you back and standing up to leave.

“No, wait,” you blurted out, “eighty for the night.”

“I don’t have all night,” he informed you sternly. “Twenty for the hour.”

“Twenty?!” you squawked. “What kind of girl do you take me for?”

He grabbed your wrist tightly, suddenly, and pulled you into him. “A whore,” he answered with a rough growl, “and apparently not as cheap as you look.”

You swallowed dryly, irritated by his attitude but desperate for the cash you knew he had. “How often do you come through Mos Eisley?” you asked quietly.

“As rarely as I can manage,” he replied.

“If you pay a hundred now, I’ll be here every time you come in, for as long as you need,” you offered. “Standing order, permanently.”

It was difficult to negotiate with someone whose face you couldn’t see: you weren’t sure if the silence was him considering it, or just watching you squirm in his grasp for fun.

“A hundred,” he repeated slowly, “for whatever I want.”

“Whatever you want,” you nodded quickly.

“Whenever I want,” he added.

“Whenever you want.”

He let go of your wrist and you stumbled back, rubbing the sore skin with your other hand. “Show me to your room,” he requested suddenly.

You led him back behind a few tattered curtains, past the hall and up the stairs to your cramped apartment. It wasn't much, but the red silk draped everywhere and the incense burning in the corner certainly set the mood for the work you did. Your door slid shut automatically behind him, and normally this is the part where he’d kiss you or you’d kiss him, but that was sort of impossible in his current state. With an awkward pause, you waited for him to undress.

“Take off your clothes,” he instructed instead— and it was even more dominant than you expected, but you were happy to oblige as you untied the strip of fabric keeping your flowy tunic together, letting it fall off of your shoulders and onto the floor. You didn’t have anything else on, just for the sake of simplicity, and he said nothing as he stepped forward until he was just inches away from you.

He quickly disposed of his gloves to touch you with his bare hands; his rough, warm skin over your waist and hips and breasts was a strong contrast to the worn leather, and even moreso to the hard, cold beskar. His skin was tan, especially considering that it rarely saw the sun, and you let yourself imagine what the rest of him would look like based on that long with the subtle dusting of dark hair that extended from his arms. Of course, in your mind, he was stunningly gorgeous, because it was more fun for you that way. The way he spun you around quickly and forced you to bend over the edge of your bed made you realize he wasn’t as interested in your fun, though.

You yelped a little at the unexpected force, and again when he slapped your ass out of nowhere.

“You’d better make it worth my while, after I paid a hundred credits,” he grunted.

“Of course,” you agreed quickly, looking back to see him slipping to fingers underneath the edge of his helmet.

“Don’t turn around,” he growled. “Don’t look back.”

“Okay,” you nodded nervously as you whipped your head back to face in front of you, staring diligently at the dark red comforter beneath you, “I— I won’t.”

You heard the rustle of clothing and a sigh of relief— noticeably one not modulated through the helmet speaker. Unceremoniously, his helmet was tossed down onto the bed beside you, bouncing and rolling a bit before it found purchase on your quilt.

Next must have been his trousers, as you heard his heavily-equipped belt fall to the floor just before the subtle little grunt you’d come to know as the sure sign that a man had freed a throbbing cock from the confines of his trousers. He roughly kicked your legs apart, grabbing your hips and using them to hold you up as he started to grind his bare cock against your slickened folds. You could tell by the way his shaft spread your lips that you had no chance of taking him— he was too thick, you couldn't even tell how long he was yet but he was definitely too thick.

He must have realized something similar, because he pushed you forward a bit; you realized he was looking down at your pussy, which made your face burn with embarrassment.

"Get yourself wet for me," he instructed firmly.

You didn't think you would ever be able to get wet enough to fit him. "How?" you asked.

"I don't care how, just do it. You have thirty seconds."

You gasped a bit but shoved your hand between your legs and frantically rubbed your clit— it didn't really feel that good, with the pressure and fear overwhelming your senses instead of pleasure. And he didn't make it any easier on you by literally counting each second. You got a bit wetter, sure, and you'd already been turned on from earlier, but it was still not gonna do you much good against the monster he intended on putting inside you at any moment.

"Fifteen," he continued counting, his voice dropping so much deeper all of a sudden. "Fourteen."

Halfway out of time already and you weren't that much more wet than when you started. Your mind was racing with thoughts of everything sexy you could manage to conjure— his voice did help, the deep timbre reverberating right up your spine as anxious fear started to blend in with forced arousal. You tried to focus on the ways that being fucked by a faceless, mysterious stranger was sexy, rather than the ways it was terrifying.

"Ten," he counted, his voice changing as you heard him smile— you weren't sure how you could hear it, but you could. "There you go, I can see it now."

You whimpered a little, the sound catching in your throat as fingers suddenly teased your entrance, not quite pushing in but threatening to. As they swirled around your folds, a lewd wet sound filled the air, mixing in with your heavy breathing and his dark chuckle.

"You hear that?" he asked, and you nodded quickly. "Just a few seconds left, make them count."

Rubbing faster, you felt your hips start to rock of their own volition, similarly to the way your walls were clenching around nothing in search of being filled.

"Three, two, one," he finished as you felt the thick head of his cock start to push against you. You dropped your hand, knowing you'd need both to stabilize yourself. "You want it?" he asked roughly.

"Yes," you answered, your voice coming out weaker than expected.

"Beg for it," he instructed coldly.

"Put your cock in me, please—" was all you could get out before the words stopped in your throat as he suddenly pushed in. You were barely processing the first inch as he barreled past your resistance to shove the next few in. It already felt like you would run out of room inside your body before he ran out of cock.

"F-fuck," you hissed, "slow down. You're too big." You hoped maybe he'd take pity on you if you phrased it as a compliment. You were wrong.

"You're a whore," he reminded you, "can't you take it? It's all you're good for, anyways."

That got you to shut your mouth as he thrust himself completely into you, finding the end of you easily with the head of his cock while your hands clutched the bedsheets for dear life. You winced but managed to suppress a cry as he started to fuck you, not quite fast yet but so much deeper than your brain could process. "Ffffuu-uuck," you stammered, the sting starting to fade but the overwhelming pressure never really letting up.

"How's it feel?" he asked, almost sounding like he could moan but holding back. "Don't lie."

You realized, then, that he didn't want you to fake pleasure like most clients did— he wanted to see your pain, and know he caused it. He enjoyed hurting you. You swallowed the lump in your throat and whimpered your honest reply: "Hurts."

"Good."

His balls slapping against your clit only added to the overwhelming sensations you were trying so hard to ignore, pain and pleasure becoming indistinguishable all of a sudden. You could tell your walls were clamping down on him as pressure built in your gut and threatened to push past the point of no return. Your moan was so much louder than you expected it to be, broken and guttural and animalistic.

He pulled your hair roughly, making you yelp. “That’s right,” he instructed through his teeth, “fuckin’ scream for it.”

“Fuck!” you sobbed loudly.

He leaned forward and it felt like his body would surround yours, somehow, especially when he reached down to roughly grope one breast and then another. He never stopped thrusting through it all, even when his head fell exhaustedly between your shoulder blades— it was so odd to be able to feel his forehead and hair on your skin but have no idea what his face looked like at all.

The telltale signs of orgasm were arriving in your body— your thighs quivered, your voice cracked, your walls and clit throbbed with need. It felt like you could read every detail of his cock inside your silky wet heat, like the ridge of his leaking head was rubbing up against your swollen g-spot with every thrust. You felt as if being so full of him had forced you to vacate your mind, too, to accommodate his size— as if that were possible.

Either he sensed your peak approaching as well, or he just had convenient timing. "Wanna feel you come around it," he grunted. "Can you come for me? Or are you completely useless?"

“‘M close,” you warned him as your answer, shame sending a shiver up your spine even though you felt guilty for it.

“Then come,” he ordered, “right fuckin’ now.”

It was odd how that actually did push you over the edge, his brutal thrusts and degrading words creating a perfect storm inside you as the friction became too much to bear. You sobbed as it wracked through you, arching your back absent-mindedly, clenching your legs together as best you could with his legs in between them. He didn’t stop fucking you through it, which meant that the sensation built to the point of ‘too much’ extremely quickly as your attempts at begging for mercy were lost to breathless moans. Overwhelmed, your body collapsed onto the bed limply, your hips only staying up because he held them up, like your weight was nothing to him at all.

"Yeah, just like that,” he taunted, “fuckin' come on my cock, fuck— you're just a dumb slut, huh? You love getting fucked like the desperate, needy fucktoy you are, is that it?"

"Y-yes," you whined weakly, cheeks burning at the feeling of him using your body— or maybe it was from the head rush caused by the afterglow of your orgasm.

"You like it when it hurts,” he posited. “You want me to hurt you."

"Yes— don't stop, please…" you whimpered, quiet but definitely loud enough for him to hear.

“Not gonna stop,” he promised, “‘til you’re full of my come.”

“Fuck,” you groaned, voice sounding hoarse and thin. It had been a while since you lost your voice because of a session… and since you had walked funny for a few days afterwards. This one was definitely going to do both.

As his hips started to slam harder and faster into yours, you really hoped it was a sign that he was close; his raspy groans made you sure of it, though. You could feel his cock swelling and flexing, incredibly, and it made you a little light-headed but it made your overstimulated walls throb around him as well.

With one deep, exhausted growl from the man behind you, a warmth began to spread through you from the inside out. When he released his grip on your hips, you fell onto the bed with a sigh and a thud. A hand appeared in your peripheral vision to snatch the helmet off of your bed, and it only took him a few moments to stuff his softening cock back into his trousers and magically be dressed again. Funny how he looked exactly the same as he had half an hour ago, meanwhile you were confident you looked totally fucked-out and fucked-up.

“You’re a good fuck,” he offered a monotone compliment as he pulled on his gloves, staring down at you as you slipped your robe back on and tried to ignore the warm sticky feeling between your legs.

“You’re… intense,” you replied, chuckling a little. “Guess I’ll see you around, then.”

He didn’t respond, or leave, but just stood there looking at you for a minute as you stood up and adjusted yourself, trying not to limp noticeably because you figured he didn’t need any more ego. “‘Whenever I want’ only applies when I’m on this planet,” he observed suddenly, interrupting the silence, “which I try not to be.”

“You can come around as often as you like,” you explained. You froze when he appeared behind you, reaching his arms out and caging you in against the wall the second you'd turned to face him.

“But wouldn’t it be so much more cost-effective if you were with me all the time? On my ship?”

You whimpered a little as he leaned in closer, and you felt his gaze on you through the dark visor of his helmet even though you couldn’t see it. “That… that wasn’t the deal,” you whispered nervously.

“The deal’s changed,” he growled, ignoring your yelps of pain as he manhandled you and pinned you to the wall by your neck before you could even try to fight back. “Whatever I want, whenever I want,” he growled, “that’s what you said. I’ll hold you to that.”

The leather gloves creaked softly as he tightened his grip on the sides of your neck, forcing your lips to fall into a useless gasp for air. Your hands reached out to claw at his chest, a silent plea for release, but he wasn’t having it.

“Whatever you want,” you barely managed to croak out as your vision started to go dark. “Please, Mando…”

“Whenever I want?”

“Whenever, please,” you cried, tears stinging your eyes. He let go, finally, and you crumpled at his feet. Somehow, you’d managed to sell yourself into slavery— for a measly hundred credits. This whole thing had begun with you needing to make rent, and it ended with you realizing you wouldn’t return to your apartment again at all.

He didn't need to shackle or bind you to make you follow him to his ship; his power over you was nauseatingly effortless, but you weren't about to try to run from an unhinged warrior like him.

You'd always wanted to leave Tatooine and explore the galaxy… this wasn't exactly how you'd imagined doing it, as a Mandalorian's whore, but there were worse fates. Like being a Mandalorian's target. And you planned on doing whatever he wanted you to if it meant avoiding that.

#dark!mandalorian #dark!mandalorian smut #dark!din djarin smut #the mandalorian dark fic #dark!din djarin x reader #dark!din djarin x y/n #dark!din djarin x you #the mandalorian x y/n #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you

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hansolmates · 3 years

Text

shiver | 08

banner done by the lovely @dnrequests

summary; jungkook changed since he moved out of his small town church community and attended college. when he returns for a christmas mass, you suddenly crave a taste of his fun and carefree life. in exchange, jungkook craves a taste of you pairing; bad boy!jungkook x church girl!reader genre/warnings; childhood friends to lovers, brief childhood friends to enemies, fwb!au, catholic guilt, jungkook is a meanie who eventually turns into a soft tsundere, bicuriosity, sexual exploration, virgin!oc, eventual smut w/c; 874 a/n; AHH i really have no words rn. enjoy! [shiver masterpost]

“You’re going to let Jungkook penetrate you,” Sana echoes around your apartment, making you freeze up in the middle of your smoothie making.

“I know.”

“You told me you never wanted to speak to him ever again.”

“I know,” you unpeel a banana, chopping it with your knife by using more force than necessary.

“And you’re still going to let him breach you—”

“Ohmygod—Sana!” you slam your blade down, stalking over the couch where Sana’s folding your laundry.

Sana’s eyes widen comically, her face breaking into a smile as she watches you with excitement. It takes a lot for you to break yourself down, to wear away at the mask you’ve so carefully curated over the years. Turns out Jeon Jungkook is one of those weaknesses.

“It’s just that y’know,” Sana resumes her previous activity, folding your laundry. She isn’t really folding it, just pushing it together it like a piece of paper and throwing it in the plastic light blue basket. She holds up a baby pink slip, the flimsy negligee glistening like ice in the light, “ah, so that’s why you messaged me about your underwear order? You’ve been planning this!”

“No, I haven’t!” you jab your finger into the blender button, watching as the strawberries and bananas blitz.

“As much as I love to see you grow because it makes me feel like a proud mother—” Sana pointedly ignores the childish snort you let out, “doesn’t it make you no better than Jungkook? I mean, he used you and now you’re about to use him.”

“It’s fine, Sana,” you pour the finished concoction into two portable cups. When you realize that you made a little extra, you throw the excess smoothie into a glass mug. You hear a knock on your door, and you move towards the front with your mug in hand. “Besides, it’s just sex.”

“Bold of you to say ‘it’s just sex’ when you’re a virgin.”

You open the door, thinking it’s probably an old neighbor asking for sugar or something. The one in 3B always asks for some random ingredient, they’re always in late-night baking stupors. But to your chagrin it’s Jungkook, looking very disgruntled. He’s sockless, wearing a large hoodie and sweatpants. His hair is soft and tousled, looking shiny like it was washed just last night.

“Bunny, it’s 7AM and you’re so loud,” his voice is gravely, rough around the edges. He clamps his hand on the doorhenge, leaning in to twiddle his fingers in front of your friend, “hey Sana.”

“Hi, Kookie!”

You arch your body so you block Sana’s, leveling Jungkook with a stare, “Sorry, we’re just about to leave.”

“I would also appreciate if you don’t share our potential sex lives,” you feel your body shrivel up, mouth dry as you regard Jungkook’s sleepy gaze. “Any questions you have about what we’re doing together, you should be asking me.”

“I’m sorry,” you lower your head, the gesture automatic.

“I’m not mad,” Jungkook bends his knees, pressing the pad of his finger to your chin so you’ll tilt up, “is it making you nervous? Your yelling scared the heck out of me, are you getting cold feet?”

“No. I don’t know. I mean, it’ll only be fifteen minutes—”

“Whoa. We’re taking things slow,” Jungkook makes a face, and you can’t help but twist in response, “what do you think sex is? A hurdle?”

“But, I don’t want you sleeping with other girls while we’re also doing it.”

“I’m not going to be sleeping with other girls,” he replies, “and if it makes you feel better, I’ll get tested.”

“It does make me feel better,” you feel impossibly small, unable to look at him in the eye.

“You’re making it sound like I don’t care about you.”

It’s so much easier to overlook the two decade lifespan you’ve spent with Jungkook, especially without the backdrop of Sunday mornings and Youth Group. Here, an hour away from your tiny hometown, you’re nameless and faceless. You can go wherever you want to go with no repercussions, and your friends aren’t dictated by your worship or theirs.

Jungkook is someone you can’t bypass. You can hide all you want with Sana, because you’ve only recently met. You can tell her what you want to tell her. Jungkook knows it all, from when Jimin had to tie your waist with his cardigan when you got your first period to when you accidentally ate all of Auntie Nessa’s ginger cookies for the choir.

Even if it’s by mere obligation, proximity of being near each other for so long, Jungkook cares about you. It would be an insult for you to assume that this transaction would be minute.

“Let’s have dinner this Wednesday,” Jungkook looks like he wants to say more, but refrains when he remembers you still have a guest in the room. He snatches the glass from your hands instead, your extra smoothie going to him. “Thanks for breakfast,” he winks, turning away to go back into his apartment.

As soon as you slam the door shut, you give Sana a pointed look. “Don’t say a word.”

“Wasn’t going to say anything,” and because Sana can’t help herself, she blurts, “your dirty little secret’s safe with me, Bunny.”

#btsguild #btsghostie #btswriitingcafe #kwritersworldnet #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #bts fic #bts fluff #bts angst #jungkook angst

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livelovelunch · 7 years

Photo

Chapter1. Alone DK x faceless

#dk #seventeen #svtgifs #svtcreations #svtnetwork #g:mine #im pledis always being consistent w their meanie and dk thigh worship #alone faceless

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damn-daemon · 3 years

Note

To make it clear I am leaving for FFN tonight. And to make it clear to your coven I am not some stupid kid either. I am a victim. However I am needed more on FFN. There is darklina acolytes and one who is literally the darklings concubine. Thus you are a handmaiden. I am reclaiming my name too. MALLORY

This just in: CHILD warned not to touch hot stove cries when they burn their hand.

Honey, Mallory, you do not get to come after my friends with your vindictive bitch attitude and then play victim when you can’t take the heat being thrown back at you. I tried being nice, I tried being funny, so give me a moment to be a fucking asshole about it and see where it gets you.

You, my friend, are off your fucking rocker. It was funny at first, but it’s becoming very clear that you need some help of the professional variety. Darklina acolytes and concubines? Just because you’re completely unable or unwilling to separate fiction from reality doesn’t mean we can’t. And let’s say you’re just trolling us. You are obsessive to say the least and you honestly need to find a better hobby. Maybe crushing anthills or scribbling outside the lines of an Emoji Movie coloring book. Those sound about right for your maturity level.

You are not needed on FFN anymore than anyone else. You aren’t some crusading hero returning home from the war effort. You’re a faceless, nameless toddler who thinks that typing a few mean words constitutes the internet equivalent of a Medal of Honor. But please, go slink back to your dark little corner and write your pathetic little reviews. Whatever helps you feel like less of a failure when it comes to your life.

I’ve been around longer than you, kid. I’ve dealt with shit that makes your harassment attempts look utterly insignificant. I can play your game all fucking day.

However, my inbox is still open. If you decide to put on your big boy pants and talk about this like a rational, stable person, all you have to do is message me privately and we can have a discussion about what went wrong here. I’m not unwilling to have polite conversation. I’m not going to rat you out or give out your personal details. I may be an asshole, but I have my standards.

Until then, stew in your contempt of people who decided that they were done dealing with your shit and fought back. Cry to your mother about the big meanies on the internet who wouldn’t give in to your pathetic attempts to oust them from a fandom with your toxic rhetoric.

And get a fucking life, Mallory.

#you started this #i'm here to finish it #get over yourself

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imaginethatneathuh · 3 years

Text

The Hierophant: Shadow Moon - American Gods

Shadow Moon x child!reader, father-child

Shadow and you go to Lakeside and you have a nightmare.

Part of @dragon430’s Tarot Troop.

TW/CW: Nightmares, swearing, trauma.

Word count: 1.4 K

There was supposed to be more with Technical Boy, but I decided against it last minute. If anyone wants it, let me know.

•

Shadow tried to open the door to his new flat (thanks Wednesday) but the key broke in the hole. He knelt down and tried to get it out with his nailless fingers. Obviously, it didn’t work. The thing was jammed in there pretty good. Turning, he looked at you.

You rubbed your arms and looked around the old building, scowling.

Neither of you said anything.

Shadow stood and spied the door opposite of him, but decided better of disturbing anyone so late at night. He turnt back to you. “Okay, Y/N,” he said, kneeling back down to be eye level with you. “I’m going to go and see if I can open up a window and let you in that way, okay? I want you to stay here and wait for me.”

You scowled at him before flipping him off.

“Alright, that was entirely unnecessary.”

You stuck out your tongue. Cold, tired, and hungry, you tried to pull your arms closer around you.

He rolled his eyes and shook his head. As he left the building, he kissed the top of your head and did that weird head jerking thing adults always do to kids when they walk away from ones they know.

•

Soon enough, Shadow returned with a lady.

She was pretty. Brown, curly hair, and a scowl on her face. Also, she had a shotgun in her hands. Your type of lady.

You watched her pull out the broken half of the key.

“My name’s Mike, by the way. Mike Ainsel,” Shadow said, sniffling, his arms crossed. “This is Y/N.”

‘Liar,’ you thought.

Before he was “Mike Ainsel”, he was “Shadow” Moon. Shadow was the one you’d gotten to know before he wised up and started going by Mike all the time.

You kicked the floor before walking over to Shadow and headbutting his leg.

He looked down and sighed with a small, affectionate smile on his face. “Alright, ya little brat, come here,” he joked before picking you up.

Tired, you wrapped your arms around his neck and nuzzled into him. Shadow was warm and you loved it. His warmth was always comforting.

The lady, despite herself, smiled a little while watching the interaction. She soon pulled out the broken half of the key and stood. “Wait here,” she said, heading into the flat opposite yours.

Shadow walked forward a little and opened his mouth to say something. You still nestled in his arms, playfully bit his shoulder. He bopped you on the head, smiling at you. You looked at him and stuck out your tongue with a smile of your own before nuzzling back into Shadow’s neck.

She returned with a new key and his mail. “Next time you get locked out, knock on the door before you go breaking and entering.”

He nodded, taking the things from her. “I didn’t catch your name, by the way,” Shadow said as she walked away.

Just before her door closed behind her, she said, “‘Property Manager’ works.”

“I don’t like her,” you mumbled in his ear.

Shadow chuckled, rubbing your back. “You don’t like anyone, hun.”

“I like you. Sometimes.”

•

Shadow set down the mail and key before letting you down. The burly man looked around and rubbed his arms. Noticing you were cold, he messed with the thermostat, hoping to keep you warm and nightmareless. It was to no avail. Turning to the fireplace, he read the sign: “DO NOT USE!”.

You stuck your tongue out at it before going back to scowling.

“Come here, hun,” Shadow said, taking a blanket off a seat. As you approached, he unfolded it and wrapped it around you. “That better?”

You continued scowling. “Itchy.”

Shadow rolled his eyes. “Ya know, for an orphan and previous street-rat, you’re really picky.”

You flipped him off.

“Oh, wow, very mature.”

You gave a smug smile.

Shadow picked you up and brought you to the bed. “Let’s get some sleep, little Mx Rude-olph.”

You giggled and your smile in his neck. It was too late, though. Shadow caught it despite your effort to hide it.

He let you down on the bed and you jumped on it. “Hey, come on, we need sleep,” he said. He tried pulling blankets off but you kept jumping. He placed his hands on your shoulder, stopping you. Your current father figure looked you in the eye and cupped one of your cheeks. “I know you’re scared. I get nightmares, too, but you need to sleep, hun. You’ve refused to sleep for the past few days. Please get some rest?” Shadow gave you that puppy-dog look that you couldn’t help but give in to.

Pouting, you fell backward. “I don’t like them. They’re mean and ugly.” The nightmares were very much mean and ugly.

“I know,” he said.

He took off your shoes and his own, setting them side by side. Yours were much smaller than his to an adorable degree. He slipped off his hoodie, letting it fall on your face. In one swift move, he yanked the blankets off the bed, you along with them.

“Meanie!” You shouted, fists pounding into the floor.

Shadow smirked.

“You’re an arsehole.” You stood and brushed yourself off.

He nudged you gently with his foot. “What have I told you about that kinda language?”

Face blank, you flipped him off.

“Rude.”

You climbed back into bed and he followed, pulling the blankets around you both.

“Goodnight, trouble maker,” he mumbled, pulling you close.

“Night, arsehole.”

He smiled, his eyes closed, and kissed the top of your head.

•

Shadow woke up to screaming. Your’s, specifically.

You thrashed around, kicking Shadow and trying to rip the blankets away. It wasn’t the feeling of being trapped that caused the nightmare. You could never feel trapped with Shadow there. It was the cold that always did you in. Back in Milwaukee, when it was cold, you would have horrific nightmares about the faceless robotic-like men.

“No! No! No!” You screamed over and over again.

Shadow pulled the blankets away before pulling you close. “Hey, hey, hey, shhhh. Y/N, it’s okay, you’re okay. They’re not real.” He rubbed your back, continuing to shush you as you cried into his chest.

The faceless men had come for you again, killing Shadow along the way, torturing him, really. You had to watch as they electrocuted him and cut into him. It was torture porn like Hostel.

You clung to Shadow like a baby sloth clings to their mother.

A knock came at the door.

Shadow looked over and winced. The last thing he wanted to do right now was leave your side. You needed him. He looked back down at you. “I’m going to go get that, okay? I’ll be right back. I promise.”

“NO!” You dug your nails into him, still crying. “Please,” you sobbed. “Don’t leave me alone.” Your voice shook, eyes screwed shut as you pressed yourself closer to him.

A gut wrenching guilt festered in his stomach. He wanted to cry. Instead, he pulled you closer. “Okay,” he said, his own voice shaking. Shadow picked you up and slid out of bed.

He made his way to the door, you in his arms, and opened it.

You breathed shakily, clutching Shadow’s shirt.

The property manager stood there, bleary eyed but concerned. “Is everything okay?”

Shadow nodded while rubbing your back. “Yeah. Everything’s good. Y/N had a nightmare is all.” He looked down at you as you wiped your nose.

She eyed him with doubt.

“Go away. I want to go back to bed,” you said to her, turning slightly, your eyes puffy.

She pursed her lips, watching you. “Okay.” Her voice was soft. Deciding to believe Shadow, she turnt around and went back to her flat.

Shadow closed the door to his. He looked down at you. “You gotta be so rude?”

You snuggled into his neck and nodded. He couldn’t help but chuckle a little.

“Shadow?” You looked up. “We’ll always be here for each other, right? You aren’t going to leave me alone?”

Shadow looked down at you, shocked. “Of course, Honeydew. You’re, well, you’re my little brat. No matter what happens, I’m here for you. I ain’t gonna leave you unless I have to. I promise.” He pulled you into a tight hug, lifting his head for a split second to kiss your temple.

#american gods #american gods fanfiction #tarot troop #shadow moon #shadow moon x reader

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linkspooky · 4 years

Photo

ozone hawks wants to shelter jin from the coming storm of the hero invasion and know he’ll be safe when it’s over, even though he’s the one putting him in the most danger // writing for the jinkei bang written for this art by @comradetodoroki

Storms have always put me at ease.

There’s something about the way they ravage our ridiculous world and wash it away like so much sludge.

🌩️

He pulled his hands back through feathered hair. He smoothed it, only for it to pop back up ruffled again. It’s out of character. It’s anxious behavior. Hawks needed to be smooth. Water had to roll off of him and nothing could stick to him otherwise he would get weighed down. He’s just talking. Someone is talking. It’s amazing how his mouth is like a machine. He can hear the words come out and he doesn’t have to think too hard about them because he’s been trained at talking to others.

But this guy. Jin. He’s easier to talk to than most.

“It’s pretty dumb for a bird to be afraid of heights.” “Yeah, yeah. It’s bird brained.” “…You are my favorite person for saying that.”

Hawks doesn’t bear his soul, that sort of requires having a soul and a soul is another thing that would weigh him down. Jin asked him what his fear was, actually Jin talked about his fears. It turns out Jin is afraid of almost everything.

Jin, Jin, he’s calling him Jin now. It’s Twice. Hawks doesn’t know if he’s scared of anything, but then Jin stared at him with those big eyes and he realized he was supposed to say something and ‘heights’ was the first thing that came out of his mouth. It’s not exactly heights, he can be in high places just fine. It’s the idea of falling. It’s out of his control, the falling. He doesn’t even mind the idea of hitting the ground. Just, smashing, and leaving a carcass of feathers, and fragile bones shattered. It’s the idea of falling forever unable to control his trajectory, utterly helpless. Falling at terminal velocity. The air doesn’t leave your lungs like you’d expect it to. And even though you’re surrounded by nothing but air, you’re suffocating, drowning in the blue sky. No, maybe it was the sky that scared him.

Everyone else looked up at the sky and saw freedom. It was so liberating. The sky seemed endless to Hawks. But there was nothing to see. Jin suddenly threw his arms around him from behind, looping them on his shoulder. Jin- Twice was so touchy feely, and so heavy, almost too heavy as he leaned his entire body weight on Hawks. Hawks stumbled forward and hit his face against the glass of the window in the room the two of them used as a hangout. “Let’s go outside! No, I want to stay in my room forever. I’m never going to be a corporate slave, I’ll be a NEET like Spinner!” Twice tended to have two minds about everything, but Hawks was a good listener. “We can’t go out in full costume. People will see us.” Hawks wondered if he was really listening. Birds have a habit called mirroring. They can imitate the noises humans make with their mouths, they can say words, but it’s not like the words carry any real meaning behind them. Just a hollow imitation. He is a mirror that Jin looks into and sees a friend. Jin suddenly has a burst of energy and shakes Hawks by the shoulders. Hawks was shaken. His head bobbed back and forth. “Please, please, please. I’m not going to beg you.”

“Look, at least one of us has to have common sense.” “And it’s me, right? Because I’m just a normal guy. I’m just your friendly neighborhood Jin.”

“Yeah, totally.” Hawks doesn’t want to be mean. “You don’t want to be seen with me, is that it? Well, I’m too cool for you anyway.” Jin had stopped shaking him now, and Hawks kind of wished he would have kept at it. Now that they’ve both stopped, Jin’s hands were on his shoulders. His large hands, capable of holding so much. And Jin stared into his eyes. Jin is wearing a mask and yet his every feeling is so obvious. The emotions in those eyes… heavy. Heavier than the whole sky, like the sky’s weight bearing down on him, crushing him.

“Yeah man, you’re way out of my league. The cool kids never let me hang out with them in high school. That’s why I became a villain.” Actually, he never even went to high school. “But that’s not it. It’s going to storm soon.” “Huh? So what?” “Can’t fly if my feathers get wet.” “Have Dabi dry them off for you!”

“Um, thanks but no thanks.” “How do you know it’s storming anyway?”

“I can feel it in my bones,” Hawks chirped. He can. His bones are light and hollow so he can fly, and when he was with Jin he felt a sort of empty pang in them. A feeling that made his toes curl, and his fingernails dig so deep into his palms that he left red welts. “Are you an old man?” “Something like that…” Hawks muttered. He certainly wasn’t a kid. He never was. “If we don’t go outside right now, I’ll cry. Is that what you want? You want me to cry? You meanie, big bully, villain, fiend! All of my friends will beat you up!” Hawks opened his mouth. He tasted only air. He dry swallowed. Twice smiled so earnestly with his whole face, in a way that it couldn’t be a lie. For some reason the thought of making him cry at this moment cut him. It peeled back all the layers, scars, skins, feathers, bone. Hawks was caught completely offguard. Bad, bad, bad. He was the one manipulating Jin, not the other way around. He couldn’t be moved by this he must stay firmly rooted to the ground. He closed his eyes and put on a smile, his smile so fake compared to Jin’s. “Awe man, I can’t say no to you, huh?”

🌩️

“This is the best day ever. This is the worst day ever! I can’t believe it rained on our parade. Jin, you stupid idiot, who would ever throw you a parade?”

The pounding of raining, the rolling of thunder, both of them beat against Hawks relentlessly. The two of them stranded on a park bench. The noise of the storm washed away everything else, and it was like the two of them were the only ones there. If this storm was some kind of apocalyptic hurricane that washed away everything would and the two of them were the only ones left. If nobody was watching, under the cover of the noise of the storm, could he be his true self in front of Twice? Probably not. Anyway, enough with the deep thoughts bird boy. They walked for a little bit before it suddenly started to storm. The entire time Hawks studied Jin’s hand as if he was trying to comprehend the shape of it. He even tried to reach for it once, only to grasp at empty air when Jin suddenly got distracted by it and turned around. “Hey, a bird! A bird! Look at the stupid feathery asshole! You can talk with birds, right?” “God, I wish…” Hawks stared at the place where Jin’s hand was supposed to be with melancholy, but thought it was probably a bad idea in the first place. Then suddenly, Jin noticed and grabbed his hand. He made it seem so simple. Touching other people, being close to other people. Then the rain started, and the two of them were on the bench and Jin freaked out. He raised his hands up in the air, and played nice guy to calm Jin down. “Hey, hey, I don’t really mind.” “You should mind! You should care a little bit. You’re so careless.” Oh no, Jin was agreeing with himself for once. Hawks wondered what he had done. He could read the emotions on his face, but he didn’t really get what other people felt. He just knew he probably felt less than them, he was lighter, more hollow. “Oh come on, I care as much as the next guy.” That was a lie. He lied without showing anything.

Hawks fidgeted. Sitting still was, hard, difficult. And Jin looked at him so intensely, in a way he wasn’t used to being looked at. He hated being scrutinized, was Jin suspicious? No maybe he just hated being seen. “You don’t care about yourself at all!” “What? We’re talking about me? Don’t I talk about myself enough? I’m a little bit self-obsessed. You know, pretty bird, pretty bird.” Hawks cooed. “You looked so upset! So I tried taking you out to cheer you up, but then I screwed it up and it started raining, and you don’t even care at all.”

“Ah, I was sad?” Hawks head tilted, as if he might comprehend better by looking at Jin from a slightly different angle. “Hey, hey, no reason to be upset. Nothing bad is going to happen.” Lots of bad things are going to happen very soon. Hawks wing moved. Even though he was sure he did not give it the command. His wing moved on his own, it stretched into the sky and curled around Twice serving as an umbrella. His feathers stretched as far apart from each other as possible. He did not want a single drop of rain to touch Twice. He wanted Twice to stop shivering with the chill of rain.

How many people had he saved? Countless. Thousands, probably. He did it without thinking. He had complete confidence in himself. Then, why was he so afraid that he might not be able to save this one person. That he could do nothing to protect him from the coming storm. The people he saved were always faceless. To be honest, he was afraid of looking them in the eye. Even when they thanked him, he didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t do anything special. He had never wanted to save one person so much. And he might not. He might let him fall. Twice’s words are gravity. They drag him back from where Hawks is always floating. “You’re not understanding me. It’s my fault.” “No, you’re not, it’s fine.” “Stop saying it’s fine. Liar, liar, pants on fire. Dabi’s going to light your pants on fire, then you’ll just be standing there without any pants and everyone will laugh. Liar, stupid, I hate you. I don’t hate you.”

Twice suddenly grabs his head. A piercing headache. A splitting headache. Hawks does not know what to do so he simply floats there, his hands just hanging there in the air unable to grab anything.

“This is getting in the way.” Twice grabbed at his mask. He clawed it for a moment. It’s like he’s trying to scratch the skin off of his face. Hawks felt an immediate sense of danger. Fearful. Twice is broken. He broke into jagged edges. Glass that can cut and sink deep into you. He pulled his mask off slowly.

“Hey, you should put that back on.” Hawks said, genuine concern creeping into his voice. He realized, he didn’t care about blowing the mission, he didn’t care about the hoops he’d have to jump through to explain being seen with league of villains Twice in public. He just doesn’t want to see Twice break in two pieces in front of him.

“It’s fine, I won’t break apart if you’re here.” But I’m not here. “Hawks, I want to meet you…” “But, I’m right here?” “I know. What I mean is. I just want to meet you.”

The mask was getting in the way. Of what? Hawks perched on the bench, his knees drawn up to his chest, huddling like a child. He made himself look as small as possible. A nesting instinct. He wanted to be cozy. He wanted to be comfortable. To feel like he belonged somewhere. Jin, sitting on the other side of the bench. Hawks’ wings outstretched, the two of them udnerneath the same unmbrella. Jin’s hair, bleached white by stress. A large scar running down the center of his forehead. A perpetual five o clock shadow. A latex suit that covered his whole body, and the muscles which bulged underneath. He could see the way they shifted as his body moved and studied it in close detail. There was something about the way he was shaped that made him look comfortable to lean against. His toes tap awkward on the ground, because Twice is as bad at sitting still as Hawks is. The rain was so loud, and even louder is Jin’s breathing, and his heartbeat, and Hawks’ senses were finely tuned to both. Jin’s shoulders were broad. Hawks’ were concave and narrow. They were going to break. It was heavy, too heavy. Heavy like gravity. He noticed finally that Jin was drifting towards him. Jin was falling. Hawks has to look at him directly, what good is the terrifying draw of gravity unless you know what you’re facing. Jin’s lips get closer, and Hawks’ imagines what it would be like to be tickled by the unshaven scruff on Jin’s chin. There are so many details that make up Jin, and Hawks’ is just not there, he is not present, he is observing the scene from behind a pair of eyes but he can’t be there with Jin. He can never be there with anyone.

“You wouldn’t like me,” He finally murmured. Hawks said, trying to get what’s happening to stop. “How come?” “Because I’ve met him. I don’t like him.” “I used to not like me either, but even when you don’t like yourself there are people that will like you.” Jin probably didn’t like him. Jin is just a person who would be kind to anybody. All Hawks needed to do was look a little pathetic and Jin pitied him. That was all this was. He was nothing special to Jin. He was nobody special. He had been told that enough times. If he died, if he fell out of the sky what would happen? The hero rankings would shift a little bit and that would be all. There were plenty of people that used him but no one really needed him. Jin gets closer and his lips pull back. Hawks’ contemplated what it would be like to be struck by lightning. A hot stinging pain, every single muscle in your body tenses, and locks. A whiteness you see behind your eyeballs. You spend an eternal moment trapped, your brain sending signals but your body not listening to them, you tingle because your brain can’t comprehend the intensity of what you’re feeling.

Is it painful? That’s not it, it’s a sensation that’s impossible to describe. Then you wake up after it’s done, and there’s a scar left in your skin. The point of contact between his land twice’s lips felt like they were burning as Twice pulled away, or maybe that was just his imagination. The acrid smell surrounded him. His nostrils wee full of ozone. His brain was full of fear. The entire sky is contained in Jin’s eyes for that brief moment. There’s a queasy feeling inside of him, dizzying, and it’s the first time he’s ever felt the joy of vertigo. He doesn’t know where he is or how he feels and it’s unbelievably pleasant. Jin is the entire sky. Jin would never know how much Hawks wanted to throw himself into the arms of that vast emptiness. Hawks’ head is empty. He’s empty. But he’s not. He’s filled with secrets, and lies. When he wants to think about nothing more than Jin and the smell of ozones, a thought broke through. It’s like a crack in the mirror. Hawks immediately rocked back. You lied to him. Jin looks like he did something wrong. Hawks wants to tell him he’s done nothing wrong but that’s not true, he’s a criminal, a murderer. A good kisser, but with blood on his lips. Hawks’ hands flew in the air. “I-I’m just shy. I’m a shy bird.” He pulled the collar of his fur jacket all the way up to just below his nose to conceal the expression on his face.

Hawks looked at the scar that cut cleanly across Jin’s forehead. He was suddenly overwhelmed by the thought. Jin who had given him so much, and Hawks would only give him scars in return. His hands, his lips. There would be lines carved on his skin wherever he touched. Hawks’ and Twice the fact that they met was an incredibly unlikely event like a lightning strike, and just like a lightning strike it never should have happened. It was luck, it was bad luck. He would mark him worse than any lightning strike.The places where he had once caressed so sweetly would only burn now. He should have smelled the ozone ahead of time. He should have seen the storm coming. But it’s too late now, and he’s stuck here with Jin, and he’s completely hopeless, and he can’t fly in the middle of a storm the wind will whip at him back and forth and the water will soak him, and chill him down all the way to the bone. Hawks finally gasped for air. Ozone in his lungs he had forgotten to breathe.” “Twice.” “Jin, you can call me Jin. I always call you by your first name.”

“…What do you think my full name is?” “Hawks Birdman?” Hawks wanted to laugh but he couldn’t. He was someone who could not even smile correctly. “Wait, wait, wait, is that not your real name? Oh shit, oh shit, I’m so dumb. I’m so dumb.” Jin rocked back and forth and Hawks was completely still. He finally looked Hawks in the eye again. “W-we don’t have to kiss ever again if you don’t want to. I’m sorry, I’m really sorry.” Why was he the one apologizing? Why was Jin apologizing? “It’s really hard to tell what you like and don’t like sometimes. If I got something wrong, I’m sorry because I’m stupid, and I don’t think, but ummm…can I call you by your real name?” “One day…” “When?” “When the storm ends.” Hawks said. Everything he said so far to Jin was a lie, and that might also be a lie. But he didn’t want it to be.

#jinkei #jinkeiminibang #twicehawks #hawkstwice #twice #hawks #jin bubaigawara #takami keigo #bnha #bnha fic #zeldi drabbles tag #theres a ff7 reference in this

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asian-drama-whump-blog · 4 years

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More “It’s Okay to not be Okay”

One more thing I loved about this drama! The trio. It’s not just Moon Gang-Tae and Moon Sang-Tae or Gang-Tae and Mun-Young, they all recognize each other as family. Sang-tae and Mun-Young act like siblings the way they fight but also take care of each other. I bet there was a lot of those two drawing and playing at the house together that we didn’t get to see. It would have been really easy for the show to just make Gang-Tae and Mun-Young a couple but they took it a step further and made them ALL a family. It was really sweet to see Sang-Tae protecting his little brother and sister and referring to them that way.

Another thing, I’m not an expert on autism but I really liked how they did Sang-tae (my brother is autistic actually but all people are different). He has a lot of childlike interests and breaks down sometimes from certain triggers but he never seemed like a child to me. In a lot ways he was competent and took care of himself because Gang-tae taught him all these little things in a way that he understands and will remember easily. He knows the bus routes and can get around by himself just fine. He doesn’t clam up in emergency situations and knows what to do. We also saw a lot of growth from him over the course of the show. He faced his fears and started to realize what it means to be the big brother. While he says he doesn’t understand facial expressions he always seems to catch the clues from Gang-tae like when he’s sleeping.

When he showed his faceless drawings to Mun-Young and she said she didn’t like them I was thinking “Stop being a big meanie to my precious Sang-tae!” but then Sang-tae told her honestly why he struggles to draw faces and she told him to watch people and draw his own facial expression cards which is actually really good advice?? I might have to make a collection post now of all my favorite lines from this show!

#kdrama #it's okay to not be okay #pyscho but it's okay #character analysis #my thoughts #this show is sooooo good #made me cry every week

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tiramochi · 4 years

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The katana Kaikokusaku pulls her like she's the counterpoint to its melody, a sleek, elegant construct of black and gold, and the space in which it exists is tenuous, bizarre, a pocket of still water amid the currents. It hangs suspended in the murk like a sacred relic, the shintai of a shrine. More mundane objects litter the riverbed underneath, silt and sprawling weed and a conch shell, patterns too familiar; she looks, looks again.

“Oh,” Kingyo says, sinking to her knees.

Its surface is already dulled and rough to the touch, fragile without the pulse of vitality within. The only remains of the conch spirit who’d followed her through the battlefield, and then disappeared shortly after, Kingyo now realizes, to give her life to the blade. To sustain the lifeforce inside it with her own.

She thinks, I never knew your name. And then at the katana, with gold slivers spiraling about its blade, with the entirety of his soul bound within its confines. I never knew yours, either.

Lord Arakawa is a title, and not a name.

But Kingyo takes the katana in hand and he is there, he is there, a sudden startling presence like being steeped in warmth, wrapped in summer winds. Tangible, yet insubstantial. If she fell back she would be able to touch him, to come up against his chest – there is only water.

She makes up her mind; Kaikokusaku dislodges easily from its stasis, falls into her arms. It’s selfish, but Kingyo has always been selfish, and besides, the Arakawa River would be nothing without its people. Better that it can be with them, and with her.

If she cries at all, the tears are whisked away by the currents, out to the open sea to mingle with the salt.

Maybe this is what it feels like, to drown.

* *

Her bones still ache. The sea roars through her.

She stands on her toes, and feels something give. Sometimes, when she’s caught unawares, she takes a step and teeters, unsteady on her new legs. Losing a dancer’s poise, perfectly balanced, for the fumbling of a newborn, like a fish that has forgotten how to swim.

So Kingyo rediscovers her body by force. She does the steps as she’d seen him do, feet thump-thump-thump on the rock, following the shade of her past self, too, a small child practicing with a stick. Extend and swing. Shake off the brittleness in her limbs, the feeling of fracture with every movement.

His hands cover her own. She twists and sees him looming and suddenly she’s small again, craning her neck to glare into his eyes.

Shorty, he seems to say. Don’t overdo it. You’ll never get taller like that, if you break your body before it has a chance to grow. He taps her head with two fingers.

Is that how you treat a lady? Her voice builds to a squeak despite her best efforts. So undignified!

What lady? I don’t see any lady here.

Kingyo knows he’s laughing at her, but nothing shows in his face. Perhaps his eyes are warmer. Perhaps the lines around his mouth are less tight.

“It wouldn’t kill you to smile,” Kingyo grumbles, then realizes her mistake. Bites back her next words, furtive, because there’s no one to hear except the wind and the sword, thrumming quietly in her hands.

* *

Kingyo rules a fractured kingdom. Not quite the world, but acceptable, for now.

Later on, she realizes just how lonely it is.

The water youkai are strangely pitiful, displaced and shrunken; they look to her for guidance. We want to go home.

It’s too dangerous to return, Kingyo tells them, and the miasma hasn’t yet gone from the waters. There could be enemies left, so I have to get stronger, first.

And he is dead, he cannot protect us. They weep. Lord Arakawa is an ideal to them; shining, flawless, faceless.

He said that I had spirit, Kingyo says. He gave me candy and told me stories through the night.

* *

At the river’s estuary she finds clusters of white chrysanthemums sheltered by an outcrop of rock, windblown petals edged by salt. Kingyo comes back the following day, having nabbed a flask of sake from Seimei’s stores – she doesn’t think he’ll mind. She finds a peach too, a whole one ripe and yielding under her fingertips, and takes a bite out of it just to check. Fruit is a valuable commodity, anyway.

Together it makes a pile in the flowers, sake and half-eaten peach and Kaikokusaku settled center stage. A makeshift funeral. Kingyo is no priest, but she can do this much. The sky yawns overhead, painfully blue, warms her too-long hair, her dirt-smudged cheeks turned up to the sun. She feels him too, in the blade, but quiescent.

“To the biggest dummy in the universe,” she begins. “The dummy that threw his life away.”

She doesn’t know what to do with the sake; there are no cups, as her foresight hadn’t extended that far. Her grubby fingers slip on the smooth lacquered surface of the flask, because she knows it isn’t for her, not really. Guilt makes her movements clumsy.

The first taste is – dry, it parches her mouth. Another gulp and the flavour filters through, the subtle bloom of apples but warped, somehow, metallic in a way that makes her face scrunch up and her eyes water.

Kingyo thinks, adults enjoy this. She thinks that he would have as well, so she drinks it in place of him. It leaves a warmth in her belly that does nothing to allay the space cradled by her ribcage. She huddles inwards, compresses herself infinitesimally small.

“Big meanie,” she mumbles. “Bully. You always hit me with your stupid fan, and right on the head, too, and called me ‘shorty’.” Sluggish indignation colours her tone. “Probably the reason I never ever grew up…”

“But you saved everyone.”

She remembers the aching tenderness of his final look. This is the last battle, he’d said, and then stood with his back to her, awfully breakable. Suppressing the tidal wave of monsters, over and over with no recourse, then holding against their leader with the shark’s smile and a sword lined with teeth, and even Kingyo with her dreams of grandeur could admit that it was futile. She watched him flag, falter, watched the cursed blade grip and tear into his shoulder with its fangs, watched as he, as he –

“You’re the hero,” she whispers, curled up on her side. “Heroes never die. They can’t.”

And with that she falls asleep.

* *

Once, there was a girl, and her love for the Emperor caused her to drown herself, in a pond rimmed with irises and horsetail, weeping willows trailing their branches into the water. The Emperor, stone heart moved by her death, brought his courtiers to its banks and wrote poems for her passing.

There was a speck of truth to it. Lord Arakawa knew these things, as he knew everything about the water, each stream and burble, tells them to Kingyo when she demands a tale.

“At Kasuga,” he says, and hums. Even Kingyo tires out from anger, sometimes, and he settles next to her, at a respectful distance and his fan safely out of reach.

“I grieve to see, her hair tangled as in sleep, floating there now like jewelled waterweed, on Sarusawa Pond.”

They never found her body. But he says, contemplative; perhaps her spirit was consumed with grief, and lingered there. Perhaps she became one of ours.

“She’s a dummy,” says Kingyo, with all the surety of the very young. Sacrifice for nothing.

Once, there was a girl, older now, and wiser. She changes the words.

* *

It waits for her. And who would Kingyo be, if she didn’t try?

“You’ll give me what I want.”

She cuts with no ceremony, opening herself up, a neat gouge bisecting the length of her forearm, wetting the edge of the blade. Kaikokusaku drinks in the blood like it’s starving for it, then chases the tail end to come across Kingyo’s youki underneath, heavy and rich with salt.

As soon as it reaches in – Kingyo pulls.

Kingyo is not a princess, but a queen. Not just a queen, but a lord, a conqueror, and she demands that it obey. Kaikokusaku’s hilt judders in her grip, unmaking itself in its desire to appease her; frozen metal liquefies and scorches her palms, clenched as the rigor mortis of the dead. She might be dying, but if she’d thought harder about it then the fear would have locked her in place. There is no space for fear.

No space for fear.

There is only the taste of the sea, the power that she claimed, that took her in turn and made her strong when she proved herself unshakeable, eternal as the fact of the tides. A building pressure in her ears, pungent brine whipping her hair into her mouth, her eyes, blinding – but she pours in her anger, her memories, too, and calls.

The water stills.

It resolves into a figure. He is solid, and so very real; the same tenderness is in his face, like sunlight seen from the ocean floor, soft as the flicker of fireflies.

He opens his mouth, and says –

#onmyoji #kingyo hime #kingyo #lord arakawa #letters #wow this fic backlog #arakawa pls come back

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