a slight continuation of this
no caller ID pops on your screen, pulling your attention away from your previous task at hand: not fucking up your eyeliner. you typically wouldn’t care if it was a little uneven, but you’re going on a date tonight, for the first time in so long, and you want everything to go as smoothly as possible.
which is why you groan when you end the call, and that same no caller ID pops right back up seconds later. you know who it is—who else would it be? you figured he’s already seen your story of being excited for going on your first date in a while, on the only app you hadn’t blocked him on. petty? perhaps, but it’s on him to be keeping up with you despite you cursing him out for wasting your time and then blocking him right after.
you watch it ring though, contemplating for a while longer than you should. you blocked him for a reason. no need to entertain his same shit that he always spews to you when he realizes that he might be losing you once more?
….but it doesn’t hurt to hear the hero beg for you.
“What do you want, Bakugou?” You sigh irritably as you finally answer his call, putting him on speaker as you go back to even out your eyeliner. You hear him huff on the other side of the phone at the use of his surname, but he doesn’t say anything about it, instead, quickly telling you what he’s been bothering you for.
“Who’s the fuckin’ loser that’s gonna drool over how good your tits look in that stupid green dress you love so much?” Bakugou grunts, and you instantly feel your face heating at his crude words. You glance over with a frown at that same green dress that makes your tits look good, where it hangs on your closet.
“None of your damn business, Bakugou.” You snap at him, wondering if it’s too late to find something else to wear. “Not like you ever took me out in my stupid green dress.” Your voice holds a level of bitterness that only he can bring out of you, and you hear his sigh through the speakers.
“I told you this before, I’m always—”
“Busy.” You cut him off, voice suddenly thick as you think back on the countless rejections he’s splattered at your feet every time you tried to further your relationship with him. “You reminded me of how busy you’ve been since you first started this whole situationship.”
“Situation—? Huh? We were dating!” Bakugou protests with a huff, and you can hear how he paces the floor quickly. You glare at your phone, setting down your liner to instead pick of your (his) favorite lipgloss.
“You’d have to ask me out to be dating, Bakugou. You’d have to court me to be dating, Bakugou. You’d have to make time for me and take me out on dates and not hide me to fucking date me, Bakugou.” You spit at him, venom dripping off of your lips in waves. You don’t know why you answered, why you even entertained him. You shake your head with a huff when the line goes quiet, eyebrows quirking up when your date sends you a text to make sure you’re still on for tonight.
“I’m sorry.” Bakugou mutters pathetically, his voice suddenly soft. You hesitate, for some reason, when it comes to texting your date back. Why do you always hesitate when Bakugou is around?
“Let me make it up to you, court you, and shit. I can take you to one of my favorite places, you can wear that pretty green dress and that gloss you know I love.” His voice is pleading, thickening and sweet and suffocating. You shouldn’t respond, should reply back a yes to your date.
“Please? You know how much you mean to me.” Bakugou mumbles, and you can hear the earnestness in his voice. Why haven’t you said yes to your date yet?
“I’ll do better this time. Just one more chance, sweetheart.” Bakugou’s voice is so soft, you’ve never heard him this vulnerable before. You sigh with a shake of your head, slumping back into your seat in defeat.
…
Sorry, I can’t make it tonight. Something came up. Maybe we can reschedule for another time?
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I have the BIGGEST side eye for anyone who says shit like 'celebrities aren't obligated to make political statements' or 'why do you even care what they think?'. Why the fuck would I want to support someone who sees what's happening in Palestine and has the power to inform their audience/fan base and simply doesn't? Why don't they care enough to say anything at all? How do they, as millionaires and billionaires with very real influence whether we want them to have it or not, not want to help? When they see these people suffering and begging to just survive, how do they continue about their lives and not WANT to speak out even once??
Like how do they see children being bombed and go 'oh, that's so sad...anyway, nothing I can do about it', when they absolutely can do something about it. Small content creators with only a few hundred people listening are doing more to help Palestine than Taylor Swift, Beyoncé or literally any other big-time celebrity with the power to both make massive change and preserve their careers through it all. So why, why the actual FUCK, would I want to support these celebrities in ANYWAY when I know that they are capable of ignoring what's happening in Gaza or any atrocity like this. Why would I give my time and possibly money to some cunt who can't get on Twitter for two minutes and post something as simple as 'I stand with Palestine' because sometimes that's all they need to fucking do!
Y'all can ask 'why do you even care what they think?' all you want, but I do care if someone I was openly supporting doesn't have the basic decency to want to help the people of Palestine when they are screaming to be heard. Where they stand on issues like this will ALWAYS be more important to me than their next album or TV show. Silence is compliance.
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say it
Byleth makes Edelgard say swear words.
(~350 words; too stupid to post on ao3)
“‘Shit.’”
“Grotesque.”
“Give it a try.”
“… Shit.”
“Very good. ‘Ass.’”
“That one is easier. I’ve said it before.”
“Then why don’t you say it now?”
“I… er…”
“If it’s so easy, then do it.”
“… Ass.”
“Excellent.”
“Don’t mock me.”
“How about this one? ‘Cunt.’”
“Wh—I actually, um, don’t know what that means.”
“You don’t know ‘cunt’?”
“I don’t know what to tell you, Byleth, it’s simply not in my lexicon.”
“It means va—”
“All right, I understand. The gesture was absolutely unnecessary. I’m astounded at how many words there seem to be for the same thing.”
“If you think that’s bad, you won’t believe how many there are for pe—”
“Well, this has been a fun exercise and hopefully a source of great amusement to you, but I think I’m finished.”
“Wait, wait.”
“No.”
“One more, one more.”
“Mm, no. I don’t think so.”
“Please?”
“… You know it’s not fair of you to give me those eyes.”
“Is that a yes?”
“All right. All right. One more.”
“Yesssss. ‘Fuck.’”
“Byleth!”
“What?! You said one more, and that’s the one to say.”
“I’m—I am not—”
“Please?”
“You can’t pull the same maneuver twice in a minute and expect to succeed. That’s poor strategy.”
“Is it working?”
“… Regrettably, it is.”
“Then it seems like a good strategy to me. Just say it. ‘Fuck.’ It’s easy.”
“It most certainly is not!”
“Try it. Say ‘fuck.’”
“… Fuck.”
“Oh, that’s rich. That’s very good.”
“Are you quite satisfied?”
“Nearly. Now use it in a sentence.”
“Byleth.”
“I’ll give you one. It’ll be easy.”
“I did not—and do not—agree to this!”
“Just repeat after me.”
“No!”
“Say, ‘Byleth, I want you to fuck me.’”
“… Oh.”
“Go on, El. You can do it.”
“… Byleth, I…”
“Keep going.”
“Byleth, I-I want you to… f-fuck me.”
“Good girl. Wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“Less than I—ah—thought it would be.”
“Mm. Well, you’ve certainly earned a reward, haven’t you?”
“Yes, my teacher. Fuck…”
“Aren’t you a fast learner? I’m impressed.”
“If you don’t shut up and kiss me right now, I’m going to start swearing in earnest.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Your Majesty.”
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