#growing up people only ever noticed my passion for art | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cobaltperun · 4 months

Text

Lost (9) - Lost

Tara Carpenter x female Reader

Summary: To anyone on the outside, and to Tara’s friends, you were Tara’s fierce protector, the MMA fighter who’d take anyone on for Tara. The Guard Dog, as Amber called you. You had no idea you’d have to protect her from people who claimed they loved her. It didn’t matter. As long as you and Tara had one another there was nothing you wouldn’t be able to survive.

Story warnings: Scream violence, family issues, trauma, angst, certain sensitive topics

Word count: 6.5k

Story masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

-I'm lost in these memories living behind my own illusion. Lost all my dignity living inside my own confusion-

You were ten and your entire world fell apart. It wasn’t fair, it just wasn’t fair. Zack wasn’t dead, he couldn’t be dead! Your father had to be lying!

“He’s dead,” he repeated, looking like he was talking about spilled milk, and you felt sick, you felt lightheaded, your legs couldn’t hold your weight and you dropped to your hands and knees. “Stop crying, Y/N,” he ordered, his tone harsh and unforgiving, and it made you flinch as you covered you mouth to stop the sobs, but you couldn’t stop the tears, they just kept falling.

Your mother grabbed your shoulders and pulled you to your feet. “Go to your room, your father is expecting important guests,” she ushered you to go upstairs, to be the obedient daughter. And you did just that, climbing up the stairs to your room.

Once inside you stumbled to your bed and pulled a small toy boxer from behind your pillow. The only gift Zack gave you that you managed to keep, to smuggle into your room without your parents noticing. Anything else they took and you never saw it again, photos, toys, books, it didn’t matter what Zack got for you, it was gone. So, aside from the toy boxer, he gave you his time, as much as he could, and he gave you the basics of martial arts, he taught them to you, he taught you discipline better than anything your parents ever signed you up for.

Even now, at ten years old, you felt the room you were in wasn’t who you were. It was, as your mother described it, a girl’s room, flowery and colorful, filled with clothes appropriate for your parents’ wealth and a customary violin they wanted you to learn how to play. You were meant to grow into a young lady that scoffed at anything even mildly violent, someone who relied on other people to cook and clean for you, and if you really wanted to, you would get the education needed to take over your father’s company.

That’s who you were supposed to be, but meeting Zack changed that.

And you found your passion in martial arts and the vision your parents had of you would never come true.

But, just like you took away their vision of their perfect daughter, they took the toy boxer away, taking the only remaining physical reminders of your brother away. And to completely remove you from those memories they chose to move, hoping that maybe, leaving the city you spent so much time with Zack in, would made those memories fade away. At the start of 2012, two months after Zack’s death you and your parents moved to Woodsboro.

Woodsboro was a strange experience at first, a small town, with people suspicious of anyone new. You didn't care, you were still shaken by the loss, shaken by being torn from the life you had. Looking back now, there wasn't much of a life there, but to a ten-year-old you that was all you had. Especially after losing Zack.

Two weeks into your time in Woodsboro you just walked around, figuring out where what was when you noticed a tiny girl pushing a bicycle and carrying a bag. She was alone, and she seemed to be struggling. Why was a girl who didn't look older than seven all on her own with a bicycle that looked like it would be too big even for you?

The girl your parents raised would have minded your own business and avoided any attention. Zack taught you to be better than that.

"Uh, hey," you approached her awkwardly. She raised her head when she figured out you were talking to her. The first thing you noticed upon a closer look were her expressive brown eyes and freckles on her face. "Need help?"

She seemed genuinely surprised, but at the same time looked weary. You couldn't blame her, this was the first time she had seen you. "No, but thanks for offering help," she gave you a small, shy smile and walked by you.

Well, you weren't about to force her into accepting help. You offered, she didn't accept it, so you shrugged. But then she began coughing and dropped to her knees, her bicycle falling to the side as some of the content from her bag spilled out. You ran up to her since there was no one nearby to do it instead.

"Hey, are you sick or something?" you had no idea what to do, you were ten and confused and not used to situations like this one.

The girl nodded, pulling out something and taking a breath. Something that helped her breathe? "Asthma," she muttered. "I'm fine now, I'm sorry," you didn't understand why she was apologizing, but you began picking her things up. You noticed it was mostly food that was quick to make and cheap, but you didn't comment on that.

"Hey! Stay away from Tara!" health complications weren't something you were used to reacting to, but sudden fights definitely were. You jumped to your feet, grabbing the fist before it could reach your face. The girl that attacked you was a few inches taller than you, and she was definitely stronger as she pushed you back hard enough to make you stumble and fall.

"No, Sammy, she was helping," the smaller girl quickly hugged this ‘Sammy’ from behind.

"Oh. Sorry, I didn't recognize you, so," she trailed off, looking uncomfortable all of a sudden.

You frowned and huffed as you got up, really not liking that she went with the 'swing first, ask questions later' approach. "Right, I'll be leaving now," you just backed away and left the two. Hopefully, you won't run into them that often, because this was not a good first impression.

~X~

Something really seemed to push you and the girl together, because it only took a week at school to see her again. Or, well, she bumped into you.

"I'm sorry! I'm late for class!" she ran off before you could even comprehend what just happened.

"Huh, her again," you mumbled to yourself and then realized what she said. "I'm late!" there was no time to think about another chance meeting.

Ever since then, there have been small encounters, seeing each other in the hall, and coming across each other on the street. Never a conversation though, you still didn't exchange names, though the girl that attacked you said 'Tara' so maybe that was the girl's name.

The first time you spoke it was actually December of that year. So, nearly a year went by with occasional glances here and there, simply acknowledging that the other existed. The school had kinda awful karate class, but it was the only martial arts they had, so you went. Which was why you stayed at school after classes. It was a downpour outside, and you were not eager to leave, but, there was no telling if the rain would slow down. So, you pulled your hood over your head and stepped outside.

That was when you noticed her, trembling at the entrance, soaked from head to toe from the rain, alone. Again.

"You'll get sick, at least get inside the school," you tilted your head to the side as you spoke to the girl.

She looked up. "Mom won't see me if I'm inside and she'll leave," the girl said as if it was the most obvious reason in the history of reasons.

"Since when are you waiting?" you asked, honestly hoping she also had some after-class activities because the alternative was her freezing in this rain for an hour and a half.

"Since school ended," yeah, you doubted her mother was coming. What kind of parent would make their child wait like this? At least your parents made it clear they wouldn’t pick you up from school, regardless of the weather.

You frowned, wondering if there were any alternative solutions. The school bus was long gone. You didn't know if the local bus went near the girl's house, and you didn't have a phone. "Can you walk?"

She shook her head. "I'm tired," now that you paid a bit more attention to her you figured you were wrong. She wasn't going to get sick. She already was. Her face was red, and her voice was a bit raspy. And she just spent an hour and a half standing in the rain. "Mom isn't coming, is she?" she asked, her eyes brimming with unshed tears, but she tried to stay strong.

"Probably not. Come on, I'll take you home," you took your bag off and turned your back to her. "Get on," when she didn't you figured she maybe couldn't climb on your back as sick as she was, so you crouched down. "Sorry, I wasn't thinking."

"N-No, it's okay, I, I'm fine," she stammered, and you only held your umbrella out to her.

"You're light, I won't even feel you," well, you would, after some time, but you could handle it. Hey, it would be a good exercise. "I'm Y/N, in case that was weird because you didn't know my name."

You turned your head around and saw she had the same expression she had when you offered to help her when you first saw each other.

"Please, I wouldn't be able to sleep well if I just left you here," you tried, offering her your hand. Reluctantly she took it and took that step closer to you. Seeing that she agreed with your idea you went back to the previous position and waited.

"Thanks. I'm Tara," she sounded really shy all of a sudden. "I'm sorry Sam pushed you before," you wondered why she still remembered that when you felt her get on your back and put her hands on your shoulders. You got up as if she wasn't even there. Just how light was this girl? Definitely too light. Even for her age. You wondered for a moment if she had proper meals. Given her mother didn’t come to pick her up you weren’t so sure she was being properly taken care of.

"Don't worry, as long as she doesn't do it again," you chuckled and handed her the umbrella. "Uh, my hands are kinda full, so if you don't mind?"

Tara nodded, taking the umbrella and opening it just as you stepped into the rain. It didn't shield you much, but it helped. "How old are you?" you figured you might as well pass some time while you were walking to Tara's house.

"I'll turn ten in a week," she said. "You?"

Ten? She was about to turn ten?! This girl? How?! She was tiny! You thought she was eight at best!

"Uh, Y/N," she squeezed your shoulder a bit.

You cleared your throat awkwardly. "Sorry, I thought you were younger. I'm eleven," you finally replied.

"Mean," oh, she definitely understood what you were implying.

"Sorry, sorry, look at it from the brighter side, if you were bigger I wouldn't be able to carry you home," you tried to cheer her up a bit.

"Yeah, that really makes up for being short," ooh, sarcasm, you liked that.

"Exactly!" you chuckled as if you thought she was serious.

Tara groaned and hid her face behind your shoulder, but you heard a tiny giggle despite the rain.

And that was the start. The actual start.

~X~

Tomorrow you didn’t see Tara in the halls, you expected as much, but yesterday she told you what class she was in so you went and asked one of the kids in her class if she came to school. That’s how you confirmed she didn’t come to school, so, without bothering to tell your parents, because they wouldn’t notice anyway, you made your way to her house.

Boldy and without a hint of hesitation you walked up to her front doors and knocked a few times. No one answered, so you tried again, and again until finally you heard someone yelling they were coming. The woman that opened the doors looked somewhat like Tara, with dark hair and eyes, but she didn’t exactly look sober.

“What do you want runt?” the woman asked, confused by your presence.

“Good afternoon. I’m sorry if I’m bothering you, I’m here to see Tara,” you went for the polite approach, not really sure what else would work.

The woman nodded. “She’s a bit sick, but sure, go upstairs, you’ll hear her,” you raised an eyebrow at that. You’ll hear Tara?

“Thank you,” you quickly thanked the woman and slipped your shoes off before going up the stairs. You did hear Tara, as the woman said you would, because she was coughing. “Shit,” you cursed under your breath. Just how sick was she? You approached the doors and knocked.

“Come in,” came raspy and confused voice.

You opened the doors and waved at the girl. “Hey, you, uh, didn’t come to school, so I figured I could drop by to check on you,” you smiled sheepishly at her astonished face, but she didn’t sit up, she was too sick.

“Y/N?” she rubbed her eyes as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

“One and only,” you grinned.

Tara giggled a bit, but that made her start coughing again.

“Easy,” you were reminded of Zack a bit before he died, and you remembered he would sleep while half-sitting up when it became too difficult to breathe. He said his body was exhausted fighting the heart issues, and because of that he easily got sick near the end of his life, only making his life even shorter. So, remembering that you went up to Tara and lifted her upper body up, much to her confusion, but it stopped her coughing for a bit while you looked around for something to prop the pillow up with. Eventually, you noticed a smaller pillow next to her and used it to lift her pillow higher. “This should help a bit, I think,” you lowered her back to the pillow and she smiled weakly.

“Thanks, it’s easier to breathe now,” she whispered and patted the spot next to her. “Stay with me for a bit?”

You nodded, and the two of you just sat there in silence, already strangely comfortable in each other’s presence. Half an hour later the doors opened again and you turned to see Sam standing there, baffled and confused.

“You’re… the one from that day? The girl I pushed? Y/N?” she asked, not sure how to react to you being there, but then she looked at Tara and visibly relaxed.

“Yeah, nice to meet you, properly I mean,” you grinned a bit and Sam just nodded.

~X~

After that the chance meetings turned into quick chats between classes or at least a high-five and a smile as you passed by one another. By the end of the month, you sometimes walked Tara home, carrying her if she was too tired and just chatting and joking on your way home. It didn’t matter your house was in the opposite direction, because you enjoyed her company way more than whatever was waiting for you at home.

Before you knew it, sometime after the holidays were over, she was tugging on your sleeve to meet a group of kids that were a bit younger than her.

“This is Y/N, my best friend!” she introduced you and you couldn’t hide your surprise. You were her best friend?

“Hey! We heard you like karate!” one of the boys, Chad greeted you cheerily.

You could work with that. “Martial arts in general, but sure I like karate as well,” you grinned, though your grin dropped when he rushed at you. You just pulled Tara to the side and let him run by you. “Uh, what were you trying to do?” you asked, chuckling uncomfortably as he tripped and fell into the snow, causing the other three kids to laugh.

“I was trying to tackle you! You like martial arts so I wanted to see if you were any good at it,” he got up and brushed the snow off his pants and jacket.

“So, don’t rushed at her like Pikachu?” the girl that looked a lot like him, his twin Mindy, from what Tara told you, teased him, causing another round of laughter.

That was how it was back then. Chad had Wes, and Mindy had Amber, so, before you came along Tara was the kid with asthma they met because Sam used to babysit them that was now in their grade because she had to repeat a year. Amber took liking to Tara and pulled her into the group, but Tara didn’t have her own best friend at the moment. So, you filled that gap. You were her best friend.

That being said, Amber was still the one who gave name to the role you played in Tara's life.

About half a year into the newfound friendship Tara invited you to go to a picnic with her and her friends. It wasn't even going to be much of a picnic since there wouldn't be anything to eat other than some snacks, but it was a chance to get out of home, so you accepted.

You joined the group at the park and high-fived Tara before waving to the other four. "Mindy, Chad, Wes, Amber," you grinned and sat down next to Tara as the four greeted you back.

The day was going the same way it usually did, usual banter, usual jokes, Amber trying to keep Tara's attention on her, Mindy teasing Wes, Chad trying to get into a joke scuffle with you and you, of course, not backing down from said competition, all the while Tara caught you up with what happened to her over the past few days.

Eventually, Chad, bored and mischievous as he was, grabbed Tara's bottle just as she was about to take it.

Tara was still tiny, and Chad didn't have to try to keep the bottle away from her. "Just say please Tara," Chad teased her by waving the bottle just out of her reach.

Tara smirked a bit. "Please, right?" she asked and Chad, now slightly confused nodded. She glanced at you, smiling as she saw you looking right at her while you lay down on the grass. "Y/N."

You couldn't help but snicker as you sat up, really impressed by how bold she got when you were with her. Chad caved in before you had the chance to get to your feet and you all shared a laugh.

Amber shook her head. "I'm telling you all, Y/N is Tara's guard dog," Amber laughed to cover it up as a joke, but there was a bit of malice behind those words.

You turned to Chad as soon as the laughter settled down. "Woof, woof?" and the six of you were once again laughing.

It became a bit of a running joke, really, that Tara only had to say your name in some situations, and you'd be right by her side. 'Tara calls and you bark,' was the original joke. The guard dog never bites though because it was always with friends. It was always small things that couldn't lead to violence. Guarding Tara from a stray ball in the park, or keeping her from falling if she tripped next to you, small things like that were why Amber began calling you the guard dog and others accepted the nickname.

And then the joke changed into 'Tara barks and you bite', because the guard dog bit. You got into a fight.

~X~

You were a couple of months away from turning fourteen and you just found out your parents chose not to help Zack. Your father wouldn't help to pay for the medicine and Susan had no way of getting enough money. She was already in debt for medical bills and couldn't even sell the house. Your father came from money, not old, old money, but his parents were rich enough to help him get very rich. To the point where he wouldn't even feel the medical bills.

He and your mother, plain and simple, didn't want to do it. 'Good riddance,' your father said. 'No son of his was a barbaric, violent no-good fighter.'

Your temper was short, you could feel anger rising within you in less time than it took to snap fingers. That's how short your fuse was. Somehow, the only exception to that anger was Tara.

Woodsboro was usually quiet, but a new Stab movie had just released, and some tourists were bound to come by. One of them got you to snap.

Tara had begged you to go see The Babadook with her when it finally came to your local cinema. So, you, of course, went with her. It was a good movie, though you probably wouldn't go to see it if it wasn't for Tara. Tara loved it though, it was her new favorite thing, and from the looks of it that wouldn't change any time soon.

"Man, that movie sucked!" someone complained as you were getting out and Tara turned around.

"No, it didn't!" she immediately argued, being with you gave Tara more confidence, the girl that was startled and timid when you met and when you finally spoke again that day in the rain was nowhere to be found. She was getting bolder, more confident in herself, and you being with her gave her that sense of safety that allowed her to act like that.

"What?" the guy that said The Babadook sucked was maybe two or three years older than you.

"It's a great movie," Tara declared boldly.

The guy laughed and was probably about to dismiss her, but then he raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you Samantha's sister? Tell your sister to get me my money for she'll know what," he suddenly got really serious and you stepped between him and Tara.

"Back off," you firmly stated.

"Yeah? Or what?" he challenged.

"Sam doesn't owe you anything," Tara said as she stepped next to you.

That, apparently made him angry. "Really now? She doesn't? So maybe you can give me my money?" he reached forward, and you just went and did it. You slammed a right uppercut into his jaw, and he fell on the ground. Security got called, he didn't want to call the police, for his own sake, and you got off with a warning from security and a year-long ban from the cinema. What a tragedy that was.

Perhaps it was because she could tell how tense you were, but that was the first time Tara held your hand as you walked to her house. It was a loose hold, but it was a hold, nonetheless.

"Sorry, I lost control there," could the guy get violent? Maybe. Would he? Perhaps. He still didn't exactly do anything that warranted a punch like that.

"It's okay, thanks for having my back there," she whispered and tightened her hold on your hand.

"Well, Amber does say I'm your guard dog," you chuckled, gradually calming down now that you were sure everything was okay. Rumors spread eventually and by the end of it, the tale of punching a slightly older guy turned into getting into a fight with two adults. Well, at least it got the message across as you officially became her guard dog that day, Don't mess with Tara.

~X~

Sam left about a year later, you and Tara kept spending time together, you made a deal with your parents that you’d be free once you turned eighteen, that you could leave and that you would play your role of a good daughter until then. And you did, for two and a half years you did just that, only breaking that deal once, a few months before you turned eighteen.

Tara came over to your place for once. You’d watch a movie in your room, eat a lunch, and then you’d do some homework together. You had an assignment about movies and Tara could easily help you with that and you would help her with some homework she was struggling with at the moment. The day was going great, until it was time to eat lunch, and since it was Sunday both of your parents were home.

You were getting better and better when it came to cooking, and today you were making a risotto for Tara and you. In a way you were lucky that Tara didn’t question why you didn’t make any for your parents as you set the two plates down.

Your father came into the kitchen to make himself a tea, it was one thing he always made for himself, because he had a very specific amount of milk he wanted added to it. And he came in with his cigar freshly lit and you saw red.

“Get out,” you warned, already getting up to open the window.

“No,” yet he refused, exhaling a long puff of smoke as he poured water into the kettle.

You didn’t want to even spare the time to argue, he knew Tara had asthma, you made it clear several times that you wouldn’t let anyone smoke near her. So, you just briskly walked over to him, grabbed the cigar before he could react, put it out and chucked it through the window.

Tara gasped, seeing the anger flash in your father’s eyes as the two of you glared at each other, you weren’t backing down.

“I told you to get out. I told you I don’t want anyone smoking near Tara,” you reminded him as he bared his teeth.

“Insolent child,” his tone was low, but you’ve learnt a long time ago that it was more of a bluff than anything, a tough act of a coward.

Tara didn’t learn that. She just saw you and your father being tense, as if you would start arguing any moment now. And she got up, running up to you and pulling you back. “Y/N, please, let’s just go to your room. Or to my place, please Baby,” she tried to get you to look at her, but you just made sure she was behind you, and not between you and your father.

“Baby?” your father’s eyes widened. “Baby?!” he yelled and Tara flinched, hiding behind you. “You are going to stop associating with this girl, Y/N!” he ordered.

“I’m sorry,” Tara whispered just loud enough for you to hear.

You just took her hand, squeezing it gently while glaring at your father. “Try to stop me, see what happens,” you warned, daring him to try and do anything, to raise his hand, to even try to hit you. He wasn’t stupid, by that point you’ve already spent over half your life training martial arts.

He snarled, but seeing he couldn’t intimidate you he just backed away, leaving the kitchen as the kettle whistled.

With him gone you pulled Tara into your arms and the sixteen-year-old girl clung to you as if she was afraid you’d vanish if she let go of you. You held her just as tightly before tucking a stray strand of hair back to its place. “I don’t care what he says,” you assured her gently and felt her relaxing a bit at that, but she still held onto you and you, honestly, didn’t mind. And as you held her in your arms, as her presence alone calmed you down from your anger, as you felt how wildly your heart was beating at her proximity, you realized you were in love with Tara.

~X~

Half a year later you had your first fight, you won, but you came back to Woodsboro a day later with bruises all over your body and several nasty swellings. Your lower lip was busted, and not just a bit. There were a few small cuts on your face, from punches and the one on your forehead nearly cost you the fight. Overall, you were in awful shape and just wanted to get into your apartment and sleep through the pain. You didn’t expect to see Tara outside your doors, chewing on her lower lip as she waited for you.

“Hey,” you spoke softly, trying to smile, but it kinda hurt to do that, so you winced instead and Tara turned to you with an unreadable expression on her face. You could see the worry and hurt in her eyes, but you struggled to identify anything else. “You should see the other woman,” you tried to joke lamely, but she just grabbed the keys you prepared and unlocked your apartment before dragging you inside.

You figured just behaving would be your best option, so you let her silently take care of you. She placed several ice packs on you, one over your eye, the other on your hurt left wrist, and the third she just applied on whatever bruise she could see for a few minutes at a time.

“Thanks,” you eventually said as you lowered the ice pack so you could properly look at Tara.

“Please don’t fight again,” she looked like she couldn’t take it, she was shaking, and frankly you were worried her asthma might get triggered.

You never wanted to get into this position, to basically choose between the memory of Zack and Tara. To chose between the only family that ever cared for you and the girl you loved and at the end of the day that was exactly what this choice was. It was painful, and you’d forever remember the look of utter rejection and even a hint of betrayal on Tara’s face when you finally replied

But… you couldn’t give up, even if Tara asked you to. You had to give it a shot, for Zack. “I can’t, Tara. This is what I chose to do, I just love fighting too much to stop after one fight,” you could only hope that she would understand, that this decision wouldn’t cost you your friendship with Tara. Given the look in her eyes, it wouldn’t go that far, and even as she nursed you back to health she still looked unhappy, because you chose fighting.

Because you didn’t choose her.

~X~

You were Tara’s guard dog, you were her protector, you were a skilled, almost ridiculously trained MMA fighter, but you couldn't keep her safe. Not from Amber and Richie, or their sick plan, not from the trauma, not from what she was feeling. You couldn't punch her way out of this problem. It made you feel weak and helpless, it was like an overwhelming weight you couldn't shake off, and a part of it was your fault. Because you betrayed her trust by not telling her about your troubles sooner, and now she couldn't believe you.

You glanced at Tara, knowing full well she was still awake. You were fairly certain she spent some of the night crying, but she never called out to you, and you weren't about to push her into contact she didn't want. Her pushing your arm away, even if you understood to an extent, hurt no matter how hard you tried to reason with that choice.

~X~

Tara thought everything was getting better, or as good as it could get, but it just felt like every time she felt things were about to get better something happened and made it worse. Sam was back, her mother couldn't help herself and screamed at Sam almost any chance she got. Tara's wounds healed, for the most part, her left hand was damaged beyond repair. Your heart was healthy, you were fine, you were forced to retire from MMA. It all came back to her. Sam would have left by now, or rather she wouldn't have returned in the first place if it wasn't for Tara. Her hand was self-explanatory. You would still have your career if you didn't choose to get involved with Tara.

A voice in her head kept telling her she was the one to blame. That she couldn't get her father to love her enough to stay. That she couldn't be there for Sam. That she wasn't there when you needed her. That Amber maybe wouldn't have done everything she did if Tara was a better friend and then a better girlfriend. That so many people died and maybe there was something she could have done to prevent it. That you nearly died and that she shot you and that she had no right to say anything about your mark being the only one she'll ever wear.

She curled up as much as her leg allowed her to and clenched the sides of her head, thankful that you were getting ready in the bathroom. She pulled the blanket over her head, fearing that she really pushed you too far this time. You didn't even sleep in your own bed last night. She curled the fingers of her right hand around the collar of the shirt she wore that night, your shirt.

Your apartment, your bed, your shirt, your mark around her neck. You were her safe space, yet ever since she finally had a bit of time to think about it, she ended up convincing herself she wasn't giving you anything in return. Or if she was giving you something back, it wasn't enough.

"Tara?" she didn't even notice you coming back. She wished you would just reach out and touch her, but as touchy as the two of you were you never initiated contact unless Tara saw it coming. It wasn't just since Tara was first attacked, that's how it's always been. She didn't move, she didn't want you to see her face right now.

She heard a sigh and then what sounded like you just dropping to the floor. Scared you somehow got hurt, Tara turned around and saw you sitting on the floor with your back pressed against the side of the bed. She could see how tense your muscles were even with the shirt you had on; she could see how exhausted you were.

You needed rest and Tara was convinced she was the reason you needed it.

You sighed and she couldn't remember ever hearing you sigh like that, like you were just about to reach your limit. "Tara, what do you want from me?" no, you were at your limit.

Tara, unsure of what exactly to tell you now, just went with the first thing that came to mind. "The truth. I want you to be honest," she only now realized how raspy her voice was. She reached for the water bottle on the nightstand only to see you already grabbing it and handing it to her, all without turning to look at her.

Your laugh was humorless, hollow, she hated it. "Well, there's our issue right there. You'll only trust a lie," you curled up, letting your forehead rest against your knees as your arms just dropped at your sides.

For a moment Tara thought that maybe, just maybe you were honest last night. That you really were fine with retiring. But she realized MMA wasn't just something you loved. She realized you did it as a way to remember your brother. "There's no way that can be the truth," she knew how protective of her you were, how you would keep what was bothering you inside just so she wouldn't be worried.

Your reaction was instantaneous. You got up so abruptly and forcefully that Tara felt the bed hitting the wall. "Why can't you just accept that I'm fine with retiring?" you still wouldn't look at her, but you began pacing around in what little space the apartment offered. Your movement was rigid, eyes clamped shut as you ran your hand through your hair, more frustrated than Tara ever saw you before.

"Y/N, please," Tara wanted, needed you to calm down. She wouldn't be able to reach you if you were this frustrated.

"Y/N, please," you repeated dejectedly. "Please what exactly? Please say you aren't fine?" you finally looked at her, your jaw clenching so hard Tara was surprised you didn't crack a tooth. And the way you looked at her. Frustrated, exhausted, pleading for her to trust you.

Tara met your eyes as much as it hurt to see you like that. "You said you were fine before. You weren't." she choked out.

You turned your head to the side, blinking rapidly. "So what? Now you'll think I'm going to fall apart every time something doesn't go my way?" you asked incredulously, there was clear accusation in your eyes, anger directed right at Tara, caused by what she just said.

It wasn't that! You were strong, you weren't going to, fall apart, as you put it! She just wanted you to rely on her enough to trust her with how you felt. "It's not that!" she had no idea what she was thinking as she, without her crutches, stumbled to her feet.

You froze only for a moment and then rushed to hold her. "What are you doing?" you hissed, holding her up. You didn't lift her, but almost all her weight was on you.

Despite the warmth of your skin seeping through the shirt she was wearing she still felt cold. This wasn't the usual way you touched her, there was restraint, anger, reluctance, behind the way you held her. She hated that you felt all that and still went to hold her. That's what frightened her the most. That you'd keep doing it like this, that you'd hold her and love her despite blaming her for what was happening to you.

So, she made a split-second decision. "Y/N, if you really are fine," the words got stuck in her throat.

"What?" the question came out harsh, impatient, pushing the words she struggled to say out.

"Leave me."

You froze, your hold on her loosening enough for her to pull back and stumble to her crutches. This was the best option. You'd either be honest with her, or you'd continue the lie and leave. Both would be good for you, Tara figured. She's been nothing but the reason for all your pain lately. She's been that way before she was attacked. She's been that since she got together with Amber. So, this was what it was. The lost MMA career was the last drop. Your wounds healed, your time apart could be made up for, but she couldn't fix this. "I'll call Sam to pick me up," she reassured you, frankly, surprised at how shell-shocked and still you were.

You didn't say a single word and from the corner of Tara's tear-filled eye she saw you just taking a deep breath and nodding to yourself as if thinking: 'Yeah, should have seen this coming,'

You asked her what she wanted, and she told you to leave her. Those words immediately hurt her, yet it would take two days for those words to start haunting her.

#tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x female reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter #scream #jenna ortega x reader

221 notes · View notes

simp-for-fictional-hotties · 3 months

Text

Writing One shot: Lucifer Morningstar ★

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

⋆ ★ Character: Lucifer Morningstar

⋆ ★ Fandom: Hazbin hotel

⋆ ★ Plot: Lucifer x Artist!Reader

⋆ ★ Requests: Open

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Part 1.

Read Part 2 here:

✦ The only thing that you ever cared about was making art. Not the person screaming for help while getting stabbed at a park you always visited to draw the landscape and animals. Not the time where you saw a person hanging on for dear life on a tall building from a failed parkour stunt, yelling for someone to save him, obviously you didn’t, you were too busy drawing his expression.

✦ Maybe those types of actions are what made you go to hell instead of heaven..

✦ But now that you are in hell, there is a whole new world of things to draw, paint, sculpt, doodle ect!

✦ You never were actually the murder type, or violent, not even cannibalistic. All you wanted to do was create art. That was your passion. Even if it meant being a bystander who simply didn’t care enough for others.

✦ You drew many things in hell, landscapes, animals, people, scenes that you saw happen before your eyes.

✦ You even had a power, every Sinner was born with some power, most small some big. You were lucky enough to have a decent power. You called it, the power of creation. And you used your power many times.

✦ Though your no Overlord, atleast you never tried to be, you still lived in hell pretty well.

✦ Your day was just like any other, outside drawing a scene happening in front of you, a group of mobsters beating up a lanky Sinner out on the street.

✦ When you heard a familiar voice.

✦ “Oh Y/n! I haven’t seen you in ages, still drawing I see?”

✦ Alastor greeted with a smile, a smile of which never left his face, is he actually happy to see you or is he just faking it. Who knows? Not like you care.

✦ “what a stupid question..”

✦ Your eyes never left the canvas and mob scene in front of you, not bothering to greet the Radio demon or give him a proper answer. Though, it doesn’t seem you need to since he already knew the answer.

✦ “You must be wondering where I have been all this time, Hm?”

✦ He questions with a radio tune in his voice. Which you simply hum to, only half listening. Noticing the half present state you were in with him, he smiles a little less, only a little. “I see that you are busy, as always. I was just wondering about telling you something you might be interested in…”

✦ The radio Overlord purposely trailed off, becoming more pleased upon seeing your eyes finally move his way instead of the art you’re always indulging in.

✦ “Interested in…?” You knew when Alastor says a sentence like that, he’s serious and never disappoints.

✦ Alastor waves you off in dismissal, “Oh never mind, you’re much too busy with your current drawing. Maybe some other time in the future” his smile grows when you take the bait.

✦ “Just tell me already, who knows when ‘the future’ will actually show up.” He now had your full attention, stopping your hand from drawing any more. Alastor leans against his radio staff.

✦ “I’m working on a project with a certain someone that I know you would love to be apart in” he says with confidence.

✦ You raise a brow at him, even the thought of him with a business partner sounded off, who knows what the actual project is. “Well? Tell me.”

✦”let’s just say it’s a hotel for Sinners looking to be saved, someone came up with that idea, you know… A certain someone’s daughter.. a daughter who’s the princess of hell~”

✦ You, a person normally uncaring and composed, perked up at his words.

✦ A hotel of redemption, planned by the princess of hell….meaning she was the daughter of…

✦ “Lucifer’s daughter?”

✦ Alastor chuckled at the rare sight of the normally emotionless Sinner.

✦ “Yes my dear, Lucifer.”

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Part 1 end.

#hazbin alastor #x reader #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel #reader #one shot #short story #part 1 #writing #writer #fanfic #fanfiction #hobby #alastor #Lucifer #fictional character #art #fanart

72 notes · View notes

dateamonster · 3 months

Text

My vampire ex-boyfriend is stalking me. This is not an unusual occurrence. Even when we were still dating he was always doing this, he just used to be more obvious about it because if I called him out he already had a line locked and loaded about how he was only looking out for me. And sure, I'll admit that I've had more than the average number of near-death experiences for a seventeen year old, but at the risk of rehashing old arguments, a lot of that could've been avoided if he'd just turned me the first time I asked.

I've broken things off with my vampire ex-boyfriend a couple times before, usually for about the same reasons, but this time it's different. I think he's noticed it too. I'm not grieving anymore, not holing myself up in my room listening to sad music watching every gray day pass me by. I've talked to my friends, then to my dad, and they're on my side. My dad took a little longer to come around, but it helped that his best friend's son went through the same thing. It's good to have people around who want to support me, not just protect me.

My vampire ex-boyfriend didn't want me to be a vampire like him. He didn't want me to have sex, with him or anyone else. He didn't want me to go out with my friends without him there, but he also didn't want to come along. He didn't want me to go out after dark. He didn't want me to cut my hair. But he liked me, he really liked me. He liked that I didn't ever show much skin even in the summer. He liked that I didn't have any real hobbies or passions so that he could be the one to introduce me to music and fine art and literature. He liked that I kept my innermost thoughts so buried that they were a secret even to me.

I don't know for sure if I want to be a vampire anymore. I think I might, or at the very least I want to keep my options open, but it doesn't feel as urgent now that I know there are other ways to change myself. I used to think I needed it to be close to him. He was so beautiful, is so beautiful. My vampire ex-boyfriend, with his serious, brooding stare and his model chin and his body carved from the center of a pale diamond, his chiseled angles sharp enough to cut with just a glance. And then me beside him, with my long mousy hair and my fragile frame hidden beneath overlarge shirts and jeans when even a knee-length skirt made me feel too exposed. For all his sanguineous habits, I was the parasite, and he was the genuine article, and maybe that's why it hurt so much to have him reject me again and again. All I ever wanted was to burrow into his colorless skin, to feel what it was like to be strong and unyielding. My vampire ex-boyfriend hated his perfect body. He waxed poetic about my warmth, my softness. Maybe we were more alike than I thought in the end.

I load my old pickup truck full of lumber and nails and feel pleased by how much easier it is now that I've started to put on a little muscle. Working with my hands makes me feel more grounded in my body, so dad's enlisted my help in some of his DIY projects around the house. My collection of bandages is growing, from splinters and slips and the occasional dropped hammer, but my coordination grows a fraction less abysmal each day, and if I spill blood there's no one there to wince and whine about it.

I put a lock on my bedroom window. I pin photographs to my wall documenting my changes from month to month. Dad shows me how to shave without cutting myself, despite my insistence that if I could figure out my legs I can figure out my face. I smile more days than I don't. I still turn my head in the same direction when I hear a loud crack from beyond the treeline that's not quite thunder. I still visit his family, when he's not around. In another life I know his parents would've treated me like one of their own.

Just as I'm climbing into the driver's seat I hear a voice from the shadows, whispering the name of a stranger. I drive away. I've got no more interest in raising the dead.

#writing #good morning i had a bunch of weird dreams and then i woke up with a voice screaming in my head BELLA SWAN IS TRANSMASC #i havent read twilight since i was twelve so in my mind this is not fanfic since its almost definitely not in line with the actual characte #consider it a transformative twilightalike somethingorother #sometimes u just vaguely remember smth from ur childhood that makes you go Testosterone Wouldve Saved Him i guess #vampires

92 notes · View notes

strangelockd · 11 months

Text

Within You

Smut - Explicit content - NSFW - 18+ only!

Pairing: Sinister Strange x FemReader

Summary: Your feeling gloomy and Sinister decides to surprise you with a gift.

Warnings: Heavy Fluff with a BIG splash of Smutty Smut (NSFW) - 18+ ONLY

•Im back once again but this time with my favorite boy ❤️ This was inspired by a movie called The Labyrinth. Its based on this scene alone. The whole movie is just a gem to watch. If you like the song, check out my Sinister Playlist•

Looking out at the snowy sky, you realized just how much you missed the sun. You’ve always had a heart for the ancient arts along with a deep curiosity of obscure artifacts. Despite the look of what most people defined ‘normal’, its what drew you to Sinister Strange practically at first sight.

But what you loved most was the natural color of nature. The lush hues of flowers is what you missed the most. Sure Sinister did everything in his power to give you what you wanted in his world. Despite his abilities, there where limits to what he was even able to do. Never the less, he made it his mission to bring you joy. As far as you knew, he would turn the universe upside down just so he could see your smile.

Before you entered his life, there was nobody Sinister Strange would move the stars for. In his past he was a very cruel man who thought of only himself. So much so, that it cost him the greatest thing of all, his soul. But over time the both of you discovered that he can indeed be generous, and have the capacity for human kindness once again.

It started with him simply hovering wherever you were at. If you were in the study. So was he. Finding some excuse to be in the same proximity of yours, you could always bet that he would follow shortly after. At first you found it off putting, at first glance you assumed it was because he didn’t trust you. But you came to the realization that it was Sinisters way of saying I love you.

It didn’t take long after your professions for each other to blossom. In the course of a few months you went from strangers to lovers. It just felt so natural. Throughout your courtship you noticed Sinister had a passion for love letters. He would scatter them around in places he knew you would eventually find. In books, pillows, your desk. He even went as far as hiding them in your favorite music sheets. It truly warmed your heart to see him love once more.

Sinister’s healing from his grip on the Darkhold was far from easy. You both knew and accepted that. It still astounded you sometimes that he gave up his greatest treasure for you. Nobody has ever gone that far for you, not even you’re your past boyfriends.

Like a tender plant, things took its time to grow and settle. Everything you wanted he has done for you without a second thought. Taking a spot next to you, he gazed out the window and glanced over at you, his eyes drunk in yours leading him to pry.

“Why so glum my precious dove?”

Your eyes wandered to his while taking in a breath releasing a small sigh.

“You know I love you Stephen. But I miss my flowers back home,”you smiled, closing your eyes, “I know its silly. But it was something I took for granted back in my old universe.”

Sinister’s heart cracked, for he knew the feeling of longing for something that you couldn’t reach. That was always his curse, that is until you fell into his life. Little did you know that while you were keeping busy in the Sanctum, Sinister was staying up for weeks researching through ancient texts. He was determined to find a way for plants to stay alive without sunlight, and it was all for you.

After nights of practice, he finally had the perfect surprise. Taking your hand on the mantle cupping it softly, Sinister trailed his free arm around your waistline bringing you comfortably under his tall stature. His body heat felt so warm and relaxing.

“You precious thing. Your passions are never silly,” he cooed with a slight grin on his lips, “perhaps there may be something I can do”

Your eyes shifted from the window looking up at Sinister with mild exhaustion, “and whats that Stephen? You’ve already done so much for me”

Taking your hand Sinister guided you to a chair, with a look of curiosity it made him chuckle as he stepped back. Watching his hands move about in precise execution; purple indigo magic smoked around his scarred palms as you witnessed the most beautiful floral arrangement manifest before you. The bouquet consisted of plentiful red roses and babies breath. The accentuation of two large sunflowers in the center with a thick dark purple ribbon made your mouth drop in awe.

“Oh Stephen!” Taking the bouquet, you inhaled the familiar scent. Your eyes caught Stephen pacing, it was always something he did when he was in deep thought.

“Is something wrong?” you asked.

Trying to sum up his thoughts Sinister slowly paused facing you. Looking into your eyes he stepped forward slowly, “I don't always have the perfect words too say y/n, you know this to be true. All I know is this… I belong to you. I’m yours. However it is that you need me, know I'm here for you.”

Your stomach fluttered as you blurted out, “Well, there is another need you can take care of,” eyeing him with sudden lust.

Sinister furrowed a brow, his smile widened; he got the message. Who was he to say no to you. Wrapping his arms around you, Sinister kissed into your lips as you slowly melted together. Your tongues danced between shared groans as your fingers threaded through his hair tugging gently, causing him to hiss. The kiss was becoming more passionate as you couldn’t help but hitch your breath and tug harder, making Sinister groan into your neckline.

It took everything for him not to eat you alive right there. Oh how his cock ached against his stiffening trousers. But he wanted to savor you along with learning some form of self control. Even when he was sweet he always had his way of getting the hunger out in you regardless. Pulling away Sinister’s eyes widened as he smiled that wicked cheeky grin.

“Whats with the smile Stephen Strange?”

Gently taking the flowers as not to crush them, he set them on the nightstand. His hands returned to your face as he tilted your head up. Feeling his breath on your cheek he leaned into your ear, “There’s just so many things I want to do to you my pet,” biting your lobe gently he released a low growl that shot straight to your aching heat.

His grip grew tighter around your waistline as he pulled you in, determined to break all distance between. His lips brushed yours as you sunk into each other once more. But this time, Sinister wanted to go slower…more loving. His tongue slipped into your mouth as his hands slithered up your curves cupping your face. Tiny and precious, you released a moan as you kept on kissing. His hand’s returned to your waistline pulling you impossibly tighter against him as if he wanted to disappear inside of you. Pulling away to catch your breath, Sinister’s pupils were noticeably blown wider. For he could not wait any longer.

“Need you now,”he pleaded eagerly.

Shedding your clothes he laid you gently on the bed as you watched him crawl over you. His eyes glowed in the dim light as he made his way slowly up your body. Leaving no spot on your flesh untouched by his lips. Sinister’s goatee tickled your hips as he placed gentle kisses. He read your body like the blind read braille. Sinister continued to trail up your torso placing a single kiss on each breast, your nipples pebbled under his touch as you groaned in pleasure.

“Every part of you is beautiful. I love how you hum for me. My gorgeous dove,” he exclaimed.

There was something about the contact of human skin, the joining of two as one that he missed. Then again, there was something within you that he craved more than anyone else. Every touch you gave made him feel strength like anew. Like the ocean water washing over holes of sand. He cherished you with his whole being, his very soul. For you were the essence of his very existence. Life before you was a lonely complicated mess. As he looked into your longing eyes his hand trailed up to your face. Sinister strange knew those days were long gone.

Leaning down he kissed your body once more; his goatee tickled your already sensitive flesh as he buried his face in your chest once more. Kissing and savoring the taste of your skin he sucked on a nipple flicking it with ease making his groan. He trailed to the other side, treating it with equal care. Sighing softly you threaded your fingers through his silver streaks once more. Taking his hand he pumped his cock before trailing his eager vigor up and down your wet folds. He looked down with hooded eyes asking permission.

“Please take me Stephen.”

“But are you sure?” he asked.

Nodding, you looked deep into his eyes, “I’m not sad anymore Stephen. Yes I’m very sure. Now please take me.”

A large growl sounded from his throat as he pushed into you slowly. Squeezing his eyes shut, he gripped the sheets as you gasped softly. Adjusting to his size; he was bigger then what you had before no doubt.

“Oh, y/n,” he groaned in your ear as he slowly bottomed out in you. Your nails dug into his back and your legs locked around his hips. You were tight around him. Ethereal. You took his face in your hand feeling the scruff of his beard, looking deep into his eyes allowing him time to adjust as well.

“You feel like heaven my angel,” he exclaimed as started to move his hips, thrusting at a steady pace. Holding onto his shoulders you rocked with him chasing your climax. All this time you knew Sinister loved things rough, and normally you would go along with it because of your equally active libido. But there was something different with this. It was only when you peered into his blue eyes; time stopped and it hit you.

He was making love to you.

“Stephen, this is am-amazing,” you said in between moans, “but right now, I want you to go faster.”

Sinister paused, and at first you thought you turned him off.

“But I don’t want to hurt you,” he uttered softly, looking into your eyes.

“Its okay, Stephen. I want this. I’m a big tough girl remember.”

Sinisters eyes sparkled with mischief. Before you could comprehend it his thrusts started to pick up speed. The sounds of your breathing were loud and fast as it filled up the room. The scent of sex lingered as you wiped a wet strand of hair off his face.

“So beautiful,” he cooed, “fuck your perfect.”

“Oh Stephen,” was the only words you could bring to say.

His praises kept flowing as he thrusted in and out with ease. His cock hitting the spot that made you feel so gloriously full. So much so that you shrieked.

“St-Stephen. I- I’m coming.” Your back arched as you groaned louder, feeling your breath heighten.

“Come love. That’s right. Come for me,” he whispered harshly.

Sinister’s words were your undoing as he felt your pussy clench around his cock. Milking every drop from him, it took all his strength to not collapse on top of you. Rolling over he manifested a warm towel. Taking time with aftercare was essential to him. Its been so long since Sinister cared for someone else.

“That was amazing Stephen,” feeling his hands trail the warm cloth over your legs, he followed it with kisses. His beard made you giggle as he sat the cloth down. Bringing a blanket up, you snuggled against his frame. Trailing circles on his chest you eyed the flowers on the nightstand. Your mind wandered as Sinister broke the silence. The statement practically coming from your head.

“Don’t worry, they will live forever my dove. I found a spell that preserves living plants.”

Reaching over, he brought the bouquet onto your lap. You couldn’t help but smile wide.

“I will cherish them forever Stephen. Thank you,” you said softly before leaning in to give him a kiss. “This means the world. But I’m curious, why did you pick sunflowers?”

Sinister let out a soft chuckle kissing you head. “Because you are my sunshine and my world. I know it hasn’t been easy adjusting to this place. But I promise to dedicate every waking moment to your happiness y/n.”

Your heart warmed at his words as you snuggled closer. Sinister Strange would always would be by your side no matter what.

——————————————————————————

[MASTERLIST] [JOIN MY TAGLIST]

[SINISTER STRANGE PLAYLIST]

@withalittlehoney @deepbatched @bakerstreethound @thealleydog @sassenach-on-the-rocks @blxckdragonfly @asherloki @pinkthick @stewardofningishzida @cumbrbatchbenedict @geeky-politics-46 @lokidokieokie @strangesgirls @silversword7000 @icytrickster17 @lucimorningst4r @lady-harvey @evelyn-kingsley @battledress @budugu @kentucky-criedfricken @hunterofshadows04 @km-ffluv @datauthorress @azu21 @cemak @sobeautifullyobsessed @aphroditesdilemma @huxs-waifu @moonlover-tobefree @strangesslut @butchers-girl @dino-fart @meeom @strangesthirdeye @vickie-mcmuffin

145 notes · View notes

pjsk-writin · 1 year

Note

Hello this is 🍁anon, and this is my last male twin request for characters such as Haruka, Kanade, Ena (or Akito if possible), and Ichika.

I will try to think on what to request next.

hello 🍁 anon!! I decided to do both ena and akito, and I hope you like this!! <3

♡ TWIN - Haruka Kiritani, Kanade Yoisaki, Ena Shinonome, Akito Shinonome and Ichika Hoshino x Reader

Haruka:

Being Haruka's twin is certainly very interesting-

For as long as the two of you had been alive, she was always hard-working, always working towards something new

It was admirable, especially when she had became an idol. You just hoped she wasn't overworking herself-

She talks about being an idol to you, and she actually looks quite happy. At first, that is

You notice her unhappiness later on down the line, and decide to give her the advice to leave. So, she does, but you can tell that she's still unhappy until she joins MMJ!

You definitely go to all of the MMJ! concerts to support her, she brings you backstage to meet the others as thanks!

You bought her a penguin plushie when she was younger, and while she has a growing collection, yours has remained her favorite to this day!

She adores you, and although she won't gush about you like Shizuku would, she does mention how you would like a certain piece of merch and such!

Kanade:

Being Kanade's twin is...Definitely a bit sad-

The two of you grew up around music, and it didn't take long for both you and your dad to realize how talented she was when it came to composing

You told her that her music was amazing, and she kept working on composing until...

Your dad went to the hospital, and her change was immediate

She'd lock herself in her room, not stopping her composing even when she seemed close to passing out. You tried to help her out of it, but she wasn't hearing you

You ended up leaving her alone, simply going out to buy groceries and doing all the essentials that she couldn't bring herself to do. You and Honami become friends because of this

She appreciates everything you do, and Niigo does as well. As much as they try to convince her to eat, the only person who can physically make sure she can is you

You take her outside every now and then, and no matter how much taller or shorter you are, she tries to stand in your shadow the entire time-

Ena:

Being Ena's twin is also very interesting-

She had always wanted to pursue art when you were younger, and whether you followed in her footprints or not, art was her passion

She would show you a lot of her art with a big grin, asking if you thought it was good. You always gave her compliments, and that was one of the few things that kept her going

Your father...Did not share the same admiration, and it caused her to work even harder with her art

She drags you with her to all of the dessert shops and tries them with you. Anything that you don't eat goes to her or Akito

Once she starts her social media account, she has you either take pictures of her or with her. People say you look cool!

You will have to stop her arguments with Akito, both of them adore you so it doesn't take much-

She brings you onto calls with Niigo sometimes, and they're all shocked by how much calmer Ena seems with you around

Akito:

Being Akito's twin can be...Something-

He went to RAD WEEKEND, and ever since, his passion for music grew

He definitely talks to you about music whenever he can, hoping that you don't mind his rambles. He just loves music, and he feels comfortable enough to indulge with you!

You were one of the first people he performed in front of, and he'll always be thankful for your encouragement!

You're also one of the only people who knows about his love for desserts, and he takes you with him to get pancakes whenever he can

He knows he can get aggressive at times, but he would always feel bad if he acted that way with you-

He invites you to see VBS performances/practices, and the others absolutely think the world of you! An asks about embarrassing stories behind Akito's back-

Ichika:

Being Ichika's twin is a rollercoaster-

You were always invited to hang out with the rest of Leo/Need, and you were their fifth (unofficial) member

She's very nice to you, and often plays her guitar in front of you as a show of trust. She hopes that you'll both be kind and also help her if she asks

When middle school rolled around, you watched the dramatic shift in the dynamic of the group

You tried to intervene and talk to Shiho and Honami for Ichika, but she insisted that you leave them alone. So, you did

She had shut everyone else out a bit, much to your concern. Whenever you asked if she was okay, she would just shrug you off

Of course, when Saki left the hospital, Ichika had opened up again. She told you about everything that happened with Leo/Need, and whether or not you also confront Honami, the group ends up together again

You were allowed in the Sekai even if you decided to not be a part of Leo/Need. They would all appreciate you all the same, Ichika included!

#pjsk x reader #project sekai x reader #haruka kiritani x reader #kiritani haruka x reader #kanade yoisaki x reader #yoisaki kanade x reader #ena shinonome x reader #shinonome ena x reader #akito shinonome x reader #shinonome akito x reader #ichika hoshino x reader #hoshino ichika x reader #🍁 anon

71 notes · View notes

some-pers0n · 1 year

Note

infodump about tf2 ships por favor

i am very curious about the silly violent gay old men

You have no idea what you've just unleashed. You just asked me, the person who has to have an opinion on borderline everything, my thoughts and feelings on the ships for the game I've been hyperfixating on for over half a year.

This is gonna be probably a long one full of unhinged and disjointed rambles about Science Party, so click if you wanna see that. I love rambling about TF2 and these guys, which is funny since 99% of this is me being delusional and making stuff up (despite talking about it like it's canon).

Now, I should put something here first and foremost. I don't actually...ship any of the characters romantically that much. Even my OTP is literally a queer-platonic pairing. It's mostly because I see the mercs as all being good buddy chum friends, despite them all being queer as hell. Yes, I love and reblog ship art and ship discussions like a madman, but I think my aro/ace brain just likes thinking of them more as all being pals. Also doesn't help I headcanon a third of them as being aro/ace (though only one is negative/repulsed by romance and sex, the others are neutral and positive respectively).

I suppose let's start off with the ship that's entirely rotted my brain: Science Party, or Engie/Medic. I don't think I've quite been this obsessed over a relationship as I've been with this one. Like,, any other ship I've encountered, I either like or don't like them. If I like them, I feel inclined to make content about it and just have some fun with this.

Not with this. I think this is the only ship I've ever encountered that I actually 'ship' with how passionate and in-love with it I am about it. It's quite fun and has lead me to start writing my newest longfic as well.

Science Party I just...adore. The dynamic of two evil geniuses together already ignites a neuron in my brain, but there's more to it. Medic is an unhinged and impulsive wildcard that does anything that crosses his mind. He's got an extremely inflated ego and a pretty big god complex. Then, you got Engie, who is like Medic in every regard as well. The catch is that he's a bit more controlled. Don't mistake that for him being more sane or anything though. I feel like he admires Medic for just dropping everything and not giving a shit about looks or appearances, instead being his true, uninhibited self.

Then you get to the interactions and just...me little heart... I've always envisioned Medic as being an uncaring and apathetic guy when it comes to others and their concerns. Low empathy, if you will. However, as his relationship grows with Engie, he begins to care about him just a smidge more, which is saying a lot for Mr. The Healing Is Not As Rewarding As The Hurting. He cares about Engie, enough so to be partners with him rather than friends.

Oh, I should also probably explain that a bit. Medic doesn't exactly like being 'friends' with people, so instead he's partners with Engie. I like the word, partners. If you also notice, I only use the word 'partner' in SAR whenever I'm referring to their relationship.

Anyways, Engie helps Medic open up and feel a bit more. But how does Medic help Engie? Well, I feel by being his unhinged and 'he has 57 mental illnesses and is banned in most public spaces' self, Engie sees somebody he wants to be. Medic doesn't care. He is happy and unchained by responsibilities and a commitment to be a functioning member of society. I could go into why Medic feels this way, but I'll probably end up just saying something along the lines of: "SOCIETY! SOCIETY!!!"

So, Engie has got some issues for lack of a better term. Even as a merc, Engie likes keeping up that mask of being a light-hearted good ol' Texan. He likes that persona, not only because it's the one he's always used but it's just a nice, likeable personality, but he also likes the idea of just going 'fuck it, we ball' like Medic. Medic encourages him to be more creative and detach from that sort of mindset. He tells him that he should do what makes him happy as opposed to doing what his family wants him to do.

They're just...really nice together. I don't know how else to put it. I always saw them as really similar in that regard, both being intelligent and highly regarded members of the team for their supportive roles. Beyond that, they're both clearly nuts in a similar way. They're just...the sillies. I love them.

I've got a lot of opinions on a bunch of other ships, but that's a discussion for another time (or until somebody pokes me about them). Science Party is the one I feel the most about by far, though.

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #medic tf2 #science party #engineer tf2 #They're just so fun and silly <3 #astronic #sp-rambles

27 notes · View notes

evvlevie · 1 year

Text

❤️‍🔥♥️ random things about Evie ♥️❤️‍🔥

(because why not? what if you want to get to know me?)

🍓my full name is Evangeline, and I am evil Evie on here because I liked the alliteration and I can be quite mean if I really want to

🍓my favorite color is red. But if I go to buy something and the shade of red is ugly, my next preferred color is pink.

🍓if I was a fruit I think I‘d be a peach because I like peaches and they are fuzzy which is kind of unique

🍓I love everything with hearts on it or shaped in a heart or just generally hearts. I wipe my ass with toilet paper that has hearts on it I am not even kidding.

🍓because of my obsession with hearts, my favorite holiday is Valentinesday. Yes it’s a commercialization of love, but every holiday is commercializing SOMETHING and a day to show your loved ones that you appreciate them is not a bad thing plus everything is pink and heart shaped and I can only thrive in that loving environment

🍓if I was nut I’d be a coconut

🍓my most favorite TV-show is >>how I met your mother<< when I want to watch something to feel good. But other than that I believe >>Stranger Things<< and >>YOU<< are pure artwork.

🍓I love Christopher Nolan movies. They are cinematic gold and always leave you still thinking about the movie and his movies always spawn great Fan theories which makes his artwork stick with you even after you have finished watching it and that’s what true art is about in my opinion. Therefore my favorite movie is >>Inception<<.

🍓I have a red tattoo on my wrist, and it’s the word „you“ which symbolizes the way people create artwork around other people and how you can devote yourself to someone else which as a concept in itself seems to beautiful to me that we as humans are able to feel so deeply for others, that we make art out of our devotion.

🍓I sneeze when I eat chocolate and I am not even kidding.

🍓I love Office supplies. If you put me into a shop full of pens and notebooks I would spend an entire day there and not notice the sky falling or a tsunami hitting my city, I am just such a Virgo it hurts.

🍓I have been DREAMING of buying a MINI Cooper S Countryman in a brownish color and as soon as I have my driver’s license that’s what I will be manifesting for myself 😩

🍓I love ripndip clothing because it’s so colorful and creative.

🍓I am neither a dog or a cat person I am allergic to both and I like both. Used to be more on the dog side but learned to love cats too and now it’s equal love for both

🍓I love Dr Pepper

🍓my favorite animals are hippos

🍓my favorite music is the nbhd, the arctic monkeys, Chase Atlantic, The Weeknd, Lana del Rey and Blackbear and Billie Eilish

🍓I own 6 pairs of converse chucks because that is my favorite shoe and my most favorite pair are my cdg-play ones because they have a heart on their sides.

🍓I hate avocados so much and you can not change my mind. Honestly. I have tried that stupid fruit far too many times in order for anyone to tell me that this tasteless green slob is amazing and a game changer. If I have to slap on 17 spices in order for that thing to even taste like ANYTHING and that anything only being the spices, then I am wasting my time, money and water in order to grow that useless ass fruit and just straight up eat a spoon full of seasoning and call it a day.

🍓I am a passionate hater

🍓and a really picky eater. I eat like a three year old at my 19 years of age. And I am not ashamed of it. I have a BIG problem with textures, and trusting food, so if any picky eater is reading this: don’t let anybody make you feel bad for disliking certain textures or having struggles with eating or food in general. Your feelings are valid and I don‘t want to hear from ANYONE that they are forcing down food because people around them think that it’s „childish“ not to like certain things. ONLY EVER EAT THE THINGS YOU WANT TO EAT. I fully understand anyone who struggles with eating and picky eaters are never picky by choice. None of us wake up and decide they want to be a problem today.

🍓I only wear silver jewelry

🍓my dream wedding would be a trashy Elvis-Impersonator-Wedding in Vegas because I believe that if someone truly loves you, they would marry you on the spot in a split decision and not think about it for 6 months first before they ask you and give themselves 1 year + time to think about if they are really making the right decision. You may disagree but that’s my perspective on things and romance <3

🍓I have a label maker and I am deeply attached to it (I am a Virgo remember)

So this is me. I thought you might like to know your favorite shifting blogger a little better, and now you might have a more clear picture on who is sitting behind all of these posts 😽😼

Yours in every reality

Evie ❤️‍🔥

16 notes · View notes

words-etched-in-her-skin · 1 year

Text

Genderbent Sal

Request for sexy genderbend Moreau. How different would she be in bed as opposed to regular Moreau? Any specific kinks? (Water sports?)

Okay but reader riding Sal's strap sitting on her lap...

Cuddling with Sal that turns from her kissing your neck to biting all over you until you beg for her touch. Please.

No thoughts, only Sal smirking up at you from between your legs and biting your thigh while sliding a vibrator inside of you.

Okay but Sal just grazing her teeth over your neck and shoulders while she holds you from behind as you bathe in the reservoir together on a summer night.

Some depravity for Sal >> So imagine.. her coming up behind you... hands roaming over your body ... lips on your skin... wanting nothing more than to you make you moan for her...

Imagine getting Sal to beg. That's it. Just her being all flushed, biting her lip, before gasping a little "Please, luv..." You're welcome.

SAL. TAKING ME FROM BEHIND. DOGGY STYLE, WITH HER TENTACLES INSIDE OF ME, WITH ONE OF MY ARMS STRETCHED OUT ON THE BED AND HER HAND ON THAT WRIST. WITH A HINT OF DEGRADATION.

So imagine being asleep after Sal wrecked you and the fish babe waking up from a bad dream and feeling... Really insecure

Feral Sal art with with an added snippet.

Hate Sex snippet battle - (1)

Hate Sex snippet battle - (2)

Hate Sex snippet battle - (3)

Hate Sex snippet battle - (4)

Hate Sex snippet battle - (5)

Hate Sex snippet battle - (6)

Hate Sex snippet battle - (7)

Hate Sex snippet battle - (8)

Is it possible to request some soft sex with Sal?

Hi! Im not sure if you write the reader as a trans woman, but I was wondering if maybe you could write something about the reader coming out to fem Sal and Sal being really reassuring?

... Metal Band Drummer Sal. All sweaty, outfit baring her arms, hair flying around her as she shouts in joy. You're welcome.

And afterwards, shower sex. In the very public shower of the studio where people could walk in any second.

So you see Sal for the first time in the town right.. tall *ahem* muscular.. and fucking stunning 👀 and she sees you staring... that smirk growing wide on her face as she makes her way over to you...😳 *fans self*

Okay, I'm an enby and I just got top surgery and I... Well, could you write the first time Sal is allowed to touch the chest again? Like soft kisses and her telling me I look good, and perhaps a bit of her primal side coming through? 👀

Aye, so. Sal doesn't give oral bec of her teeth right? So what if she got special covers for her teeth so she wouldn't have to worry about them?

It is said that a picture says more than a 1000 words .. so my dear friend ... what is happening between Sal and reader here ?? 👀👀👀

Hey! Have you seen classyfruits new nswf art of Sal on Twitter? If so what thoughts do you have about it? 👀

I want Sal to throw me on to the bed, put her legs on either side of my head, framing me.. ordering me to look at her while she is going to touch herself..😳

Sal spanking the Reader. But also making sure she tells them how good they're taking it. And calling them naughty still.

Okay, so. Imagine the Lords are having a dance with the village on one of the bigger celebration days and Sal is just sitting there, alone with a drink, and the villagers are too appalled by her to speak to her (which is why she hates it, but still tries to enjoy herself by listening to the music.) Which is when you notice her gorgeous smile and decice to fuck it... and go over and ask her for a dance. (Which ends in one of the most incredible, funny, passionate nights you've ever had.)

We haven't seen Sal's strap in awhile 👀

Okay, but having Sal tied up under you and absolutely worshipping and praising her. Leaving marks on on her abs. Kissing her breasts. Nibbling her arm muscles. Nipping on her inner thighs... And she tries not to, but ends up begging for you to touch her properly. I'm 😫💕💦

So.. say you meet Sal while out on Halloween night. You're both dressed up and flirt a bit.. which maybe leads some kissing 👀

OH GOD JUST IMAGINE KNOCKING AT THE RESERVOIR HOUSE DOOR AFTER THAT HALLOWEEN NIGHT AND WHEN SAL OPENS YOU GO "TRICK OR TREAT"

So like, say Sal's tentacles are around one inch thick a piece.. how many do you think she could fit in you to sufficiently stuff you? 👀👀👀👀 For science 👀

Sal taking reader from behind as they're bent over somewhere. With a (big) strap. And a tiny bit of degradation.

Sleeping as the little spoon in Sal's arms. And you get some nice dreams and wake up but you're in that utterly teasing mood so you grind your ass against Sal.

telling Sal to be a good girl and touch herself while riding her thigh. That's it that's the ask.

Sex with Sal against the wall of a changing room in a clothing store. Having to be silent while her fingers take you. Her other hand clasped onto your mouth while she murmurs things into your ear that get you even wetter for her.

Just thinking about Sal from the fic, wearing her leather jacket in bed and masturbating, sending her a photo to get her riled up. Just waiting for her to get back and show me what she thought of it 👀🤤

.... sucking Trans!Sal during a meeting with the other lords, under the table and hearing her try to keep her composure while you make her cum. And then wait until she's ready again only to start over again.

Okay, but Sal waiting for you on the evening of the 24th, wrapped in ribbon Shibari with a little (or big) christmas hat on her cock. "Early present fer ye, luv."

So. Sal is Shark Lady. Sal is Trans. Sharks have two cocks. SO WHAT IF. And if she was shy about it, at least a little, with a new lover who she is really, REALLY into.

Due to me having to spend the evening in the presence of one fucking sexist, gross, lying douchebag of a dude, could I please ask for headcanons of how Sal would deal with one. Please.

The reader, ever the good partner, brings transfemme Sal her first skirt. Sal is in the bathroom changing for a while and reader starts to get nervous-what if they messed up?

Sal Sleepover snippet battle

Sal Sleepover snippet battle - (2)

P-piggy back ride? 🥺 By Sal? 🥺 Now imma need that. Maybe Reader hurt her foot or so. Witty banter and softness, please? 🥺

Okay, but. Sal's first time with a really small, shy bean. Who's worried that her 8 inches won't fit

Um. So. You know- So. Two cock Sal. Making out with her and feeling her get hard, please? Grinding on her? With a bit of dirty talk?

Ahh those Sal asks! The shower one and the transfem Sal answer got me: 😩😩💦💦💦 i need her to take me hard any way possible!! Sjdkgkgkf!!

While at two-cock Sal, please just write something for her completely wrecking me. Thanks.

Sal and Reader being the bestest of friends and lightheartedly "scamming" Restaurants by pretending to get engaged. It only becomes more and more of a problem as they fall for each other.

Merwitch Genderbent Sal AU with a pirate enby Reader

Sal getting a call from Miranda while Reader is riding her, and reader ends up not stopping? 😏

if you're accepting prompts... i havent been able to get the thought out of my head of giving sal a bj and her getting lost in the moment and fucking the readers face a little. btw the way you write her is top tier, just immaculate.

This fic is a follow up to this ask here -

A Pirate Captain Sal AU with a bratty Reader 👀Includes spanking, blowjobs, a hearty size kink and two cock Sal (ahem)

Ahem.. Christmas smut with a hot shark lady, anyone? 👀

#masterlist #sal #resident evil village #re8 fanfiction #re8 headcanons #genderbent sal #genderbent sal x reader #re8 asks

16 notes · View notes

dandelions4us · 1 year

Text

Two Sides • Wenclair

Summary: Where Enid and Wednesday have a project to do together. Or... Where the both of them have “unrequited” feelings for each other.

Word count: 627.

Warnings: none, just wenclair being oblivious.

Enid Sinclair

“Can you pass me the glue, please?” Wednesday asks, her monotonous, low yet firm voice startling me off a bit after we fall into a peaceful silence while doing the art project we got assigned together.

“I didn’t mean to scare you. Sorry.” She mumbles the last part but my enhanced hearing catches it. I smile. “It’s okay! Here’s the glue.”

Our hands slightly touch; a little, nice wave of shock running through my body. I hope she didn’t hear my breath hitch, let alone the loud, fast beats of my heart. I look around, shaky hands recoiled quickly, trying to hide my panic (probably unsuccessfully).

Crap, how I was in love with her... I have never shuddered at the touch of someone. Never before felt my smile grow in my face seeing that person walk in the room. My heart being filled by the mere sound of their voice, the smell of their perfume and the beauty of their soul.

However, even affected by the physical reactions of passion, didn’t fail to notice the small glint of color in her pale, usually dead looking cheeks. I would also swear I saw her blink. Why would she — the stoic, above feelings and mundane trivialities —, Wednesday Addams, react at my touch?

After all, clearly, my feelings are not reciprocated... right?

Wednesday Addams

“Can you pass me the glue, please?” I ask, disturbing the comfortable silence we were in and startling Enid slightly.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.” I say, which is already abnormal, giving the fact I tend to affright people and don’t apologize — sometimes, don’t even acknowledge it. Additionally, my stupid, malfunctioning brain insists, so I end up murmuring a ‘sorry’ too, low enough that no one, not even her, could hear; disregarding the fact that we were alone in our dormitory.

Yet certainly she did. And naturally smiled at me for it. That foolish, dumb, beautiful smile. I detested her smile. Despised it so much because of the things it made me feel. Abominable, disgusting feelings my body seemingly craved more and more since it been given to it for the first time.

“It’s okay! Here’s the glue.” She responds in her signature cheery voice I despised as well.

And then we touch. Slightly. Imperceptible to non attentive eyes. But it felt like I was being electrocuted. The same pleasing feeling I get when having a psychic vision, but better.

I could also feel heat coming up my face. A warm, odd feeling could be sensed from it to the back of my neck and up my ears. It’s such a unusual thing I blink a few times to get used to it.

I assume I don’t have to mention I’ve never felt something like this before. I don’t like new things. Especially not new feelings. I don’t like feelings at all. So how come this eerie sensation spreading through my body has not repugnated me? It felt rather pleasant, howbeit.

The issue is: I know why. But my pride, repulse and stubborn self refuses to admit it. How could I? There is no such sense in me, someone who avoids feelings and social interactions like vampires avoids sun and garlic, could ever be enamored by Enid Sinclair, a walking sunshine?

That is a query to be later discerned, perhaps never. The major concern was the fact that I was, apparently, not the only one doomed by the reverberations of our unintended touch.

The abrupt pause in Enid’s breathing and her trembling members perplexed me. What reasons could make her fluster at my touch?

She would not be deranged enough to share said feelings with someone as ominous as me... correct?

A/N: they're so oblivious and for what?? making us mad lmao 💀 well this is it yall, hope you liked it! i pretty much enjoyed writing it (especially wednesday's pov). let me know if you guys want a part 2! get enough sleep, hydrate and eat some! ily <3

7 notes · View notes

witchcraftandburialdirt · 1 year

Text

Fifteen Questions For The Writer

Tagged by: @misstantabismuses and @sxlemnity - Thank you both! Tagging: I was really late to do this so I'm not sure who hasn't done it yet!

1: Are you named after anyone?

Nope, I did go through quite a few names though. I was almost named after my uncle, then had another temporary name, then finally they settled on the one I have today. I've almost changed it though!

2: When was the last time you cried?

Yesterday, but not for anything bad in my life. I was writing a response for @windchaser and the emotions and music got to me a little too much so I was all teary eyed lol. That and whenever I think about Tarhos and Haru from @bells-of-black-sunday my eyes get a wee bit wet-

3: Do you have kids?

Nooooo. I have a dog, cat, and 3 fat rats.

4: Do you use sarcasm a lot?

Oh yeah, I live and breathe it. I tend to only be very aggressively sarcastic with friends though, as I get really shy around new folks and am afraid of spooking anyone off with my secret sass.

5: What's the first thing you notice about people?

Oh man. In real life I'm really good at picking up cues through body language and the way people emote/speak. I'm really bad at emoting in real life particularly when it comes to strangers and I think it all goes into my "I can tell what youre thinking" power when I meet new people.

6: What's your eye colour?

Blue!

7: Scary movies or happy endings?

I love horror movies with a passion despite being easily frightened by them, I tend to stay away from anything too realistic or that could relate to past trauma but if its supernatural count me in. Scream is actually my favorite movie franchise, now that I think on it, and I always love seeing what new things they come up with. Happy endings are fine too, but I prefer them to be earned--I find bittersweet endings usually sit better with me.

8: Any special talents?

I am trained in opera if that counts! You'll be hard pressed to hear me sing but yeah - I also am quite a good cook and I love making cosplay. Not sure if a talent but I have a very clear memory when it comes to sounds/instruments; my friend was playing genshin and there was a piece of the soundtrack that I immediately recognized as a small section of Rite of Spring by Igor Stravinsky. Then I found the part in Fantasia to show my friend. I don't know how.

9: Where were you born?

Ye ol' USA, in the Northeast!

10: What are your hobbies?

Writing, art, singing, cooking, gardening, enjoying conspiracy videos way too much, reading, and cosplay too! I do a whole bunch of stuff.

11: Have you any pets?

Yes! A black cat named Jojo, a corgi named Shi Shi, 3 fat rats; Wisely, Nea, and Mana

12: What sport do you play/have you played?

I currently don't play any now, but I used to swim and play field hockey. I was also on the track team for some time but my asthma developed and killed me.

13: How tall are you?

5' 8.5" or 174cm

14: Favourite subject in school?

English, Biology, Art!

15: Dream job?

I used to think I really wanted to go into graphic design and illustration - but I did and it was one of the worst experiences ever. I'm not exactly sure why, if it was the work or the environment - but it put an extremely bad taste in my mouth and I most likely won't pursue it again. I'm currently working as a contact analyst at an extremely kind company and I'm VERY happy. I don't dream of labor but this is really good for now. I muse about living someplace quiet with a few farm animals and my pets, just being able to grow my food and collect eggs--does that count? I used to have really big dreams of grandeur but I quickly realized that I enjoy my small life and my small job, I can pay my bills and have time off to do what I want, and lovely coworkers.

I'd love if I could just lay in a field with dandelions all day and count the clouds. I often think about this and how I wish the world was different in so that I could do that sort of stuff without worry. I could talk about it for a good while but it tends to border on Nihilism and I don't want to bother anyone with that--plus its a lot of my inner thoughts, and I don't want to plague dash with those since they can get intense, not in a bad way, its just something I muse on a lot.

#mun speaks #munday meme #i have alot of thoughts

6 notes · View notes

deviiancetv · 1 year

Text

Skyscraper // Oneshot

Synopsis: A young twentysomething coming home after a long days work. Relaxing and unwinding from the hectic-ness of adulthood.

Word Count: 1,046

Genre: Adulthood, Loneliness, Alcohol, Melancholy

Created by: @deviiancetv

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

“Honey, I’m homeee!!!” I say as I pull the key out of my front door look, walking into my skyrise loft apartment, alone.

Well, not technically alone. I have my Chartreux fur baby, Bleu, who’s tucked into a loaf, sitting on the ledge upstairs where my bed is. He gets up and prances down the stairs to greet me, as I take my shoes off, and sit them to the side by the front door.

I give Bleu a little scratch on his back, he curls his tail around my leg. Most cats don’t show affection in noticeable ways, but for as long as I’ve had Bleu, he’s always been playful and sweet with me. He’s my child, even though I didn’t give birth to him. Sometimes I wonder if I will ever possibly have kids of mine someday. The way this world is, and how the people of my generation are, it’s probably best I remain celibate, and never give my body to anyone who will not treasure or pacify it the way I do.

I walk upstairs and strip down to nothing but my underwear and tank top. I put on my favorite oversized crème colored hoodie, and slide my feet into my black Nike slides. I put my work clothes into the laundry hamper — probably won’t see them again for another week. I flop down on my bed to check my phone, swiping and scrolling from app to app. Having a phone is not that interesting when you think about it. Just a small electronic that we’re so codependent on, constantly searching for validation on social platforms, looking at so many discussions and debates happening, when in the grand scheme of things… they don’t even matter. Of course, as an artist myself I’d like to have my work adored and praised. Sadly, we live in a world that tosses its artists down the drain. We’re just merely sacks of blood and bones contained with creative ideas, only to be used for our intellect and discarded as soon as we aren’t needed anymore.

Even the thoughts of adulting grow tiresome, waking every day to live in a society that lives to work. Working in a land called ‘Dead Endia’, full of minimum wage positions, and I have barely found the time to create art or work on my passions. I oftentimes wonder, “Will I ever begin to live my dream life…?”

And now, after having such a nihilistic thought about how I view my place in the world of my passion — I think it’s time for a drink.

I plug my phone up to charge its 47% battery and open my music app to my favorite playlist for vibey relaxing music. The genre that gets me into the mood to unwind, is Japanese Jazz. The mellow vibrancies of harmonies of bass, saxophone, and light twinkles of a picturesque vision of smoking a cigarette on the balcony of a rainy cityscape… that’s how I would describe Japanese jazz. I plug in and connect my speakers to my phone, turn the volume up to 85%, and begin two-stepping my way off my balcony, and down my staircase. Snapping my fingers with a little twirl, I dance into my kitchen and open my fridge. My bottle of 2019 Gary Farrell Pinot Noir sits on the side door of my fridge, gazing at it with enticing lust, I grab it and fetch a wine glass from my cabinet.

I quickly rinse and dry my glass, I grab my bottle and twist the top off. Pouring half a glass full of wine, I sit the bottle down and close it back up. I pick up my glass, getting a whiff of the essence of my inner joy. I wouldn’t call myself an alcoholic, but just having a few glasses of wine every now and again isn’t all bad right? Besides, I think at this point in my life, this is the antidote to my sadness. With my glass firmly gripped in my hand, I walk to my light switch, turn off the lights in my kitchen, and walk over to my side door where my balcony is. As soon as I twist the doorknob, *BOOM* the sound of thunder radiates in the distance, and a streak of lightning illuminates the forecast, and like clockwork, the down pouring of rain begins. I decide not to step out into the impending storm, and just sit in my window seat, leg crossed over the other, I take a sip of my wine and smile I’m the most serene feeling I could feel.

Bleu scampers over to come to sit with me by the window, staring out into the distance as I enjoy the synchronized tubes of my music meeting the rain, enchanting my ears to an almost meditative state. Closing my eyes briefly, I imagine myself being on top of the tallest skyscraper possible, the skyscraper of one’s dreams. This building flashing an LED light shows all of my art being put op in full display for all to love and remember. And as my eyes are closed, I begin to feel something odd... Not to fly or fall, but for once, I want to feel an exhilarating feeling, feelings I had never felt before. Happiness, fearlessness, determination, with a twist of timidity. In my past, people doubted my successes in the past, and my future is filled with many uncertainties. But knowing that somewhere, someplace, my artistry could get me, where I can be viewed as someone of importance, inspiration, and success. I would be the tallest skyscraper in my imagination.

And with that, I open my eyes and turn my head over to pet Bleu who was sitting right beside me watching as the rain trickled down. As I am staring out of the window, imagining a life of success that I’ve always wanted. I swivel my wine around in the glass, staring into it as if it was a black hole from the deepest corners of space. I take another sip, tapping the glass with my middle finger, laying back ever so comfortably on my window seat. I say aloud to myself in the privacy of my corners.

“So, this is what true happiness feels like”

Fin.

1 note · View note

dirty-bosmer · 2 years

Note

Hi!! I've been following you for a while, but I'm shy so I hope you don't mind that I'm on anon. I've ben wanting to write fic for a few months but it seems rather intimidating with all of the stories that are already out there. I saw one of your writing ask replies where you had mentioned it being okay to compare yourself to others as long as you do so critically, and wondered if you could expand on that if you don't mind? It's honestly one of my biggest hang-ups >.<

Oh totally! I should preface this by saying that I'm well aware of all the writing advice lists that will tell you "comparison is the thief of joy," and “absolutely under no circumstances should you compare yourself to others.” While I think there is value to that advice, it’s a really hard part of our brain to turn off. Most people possess some degree of awareness lol. We’re perceptive. We notice things that others are doing around us, and it’s natural to ask “how are we similar? What are we doing that’s different?” My approach to these observations is that if I’m not doing anything positive with them, they really don’t serve me, so when I’m reading, I’ll ask myself, “how is the author building intrigue? Why am I so fond of these characters? Why is this passage so pleasing?” It takes practice and a lot of self-reflection to apply this to your own writing, but that’s what I mean by a critical eye. It’s kind of like research, and if I’m not comparing my writing to that of better writers, I don’t feel I will ever grow in my craft.

Another thing, and idk if this is a side effect of having my ass handed to me in grad school, but I’ve found a lot of peace in acknowledging that there will always be someone more skilled than I, more passionate than I, smarter, better, more successful than I. Rather than this being a source of grief, it’s actually quite freeing? I’ve stopped trying to compete with these people. Instead, I try to learn from them. I find them inspiring, and I think placing a higher value on being able to say “I am growing, and I am improving,” over some arbitrary or numerical measurement of “success” is something most people would benefit from.

And speaking of “success,” if you’re starting out with fanfic, don't bother with stats. This is a place where I think comparison will more often than not lead to despair lol. Fanfic is a hobby. We write it for fun, and in my opinion, the moment you start getting hung up on performance metrics and engagement is the moment you start to jeopardize your happiness. It’s great to have an audience, and I’m so appreciative of all my readers, but I started writing for myself, because I found it fulfilling, because it relieved stress, and since I’m not getting paid, my joy is always going to be a more reliable source of creative energy than those derived from extrinsic motivators.

Also, with regard to stats, another thing to keep in mind is that (and this is true with many forms of art and media) very popular titles can be fairly mediocre while some truly phenomenal works will receive so little attention that it borders on criminal. And before anyone takes offense, I’m not saying that rough or unpolished or poorly written fics are without value, only that fanfic is quite a different beast than original work. With fic, you already have an audience that is primed to be invested in your story. People want wish fulfillment. They want to read their favorite characters in crazy situations. They want to have fun and enjoy silly romps, and they want to see the same tropes over and over again (it’s me— I am people). The nature of the game is that if the story you want to write doesn’t include those things, there is a chance it won’t gain a lot of traction. But at least it’s your story, yeah? And at least it will bring you joy :)

Sorry for rambling. I hope that clarifies what you were asking 😅 The TL;DR is if you write and want to improve your skill, it’s really important to learn from those around you. Comparison is most likely going to happen anyway, so you might as well make it work for you. And if you don’t want to improve, that’s totally fine! Not everyone is writing or reading fic for the craft, and this is just what works for me :)

Thanks for the ask! I really enjoy thinking and talking about these things 💕

#writing #asks #writeblr

5 notes · View notes

fantestable · 6 months

Text

\When you die, you know what I'm going to tell people when they ask me about my father? I'm going to say "he had no interest in me.' My dad just never had any interest in me. Since as far back as I can remember, I was just not interesting to him. He didn't want to hear details about my life. He wouldn't engage me in meaningful conversation. He never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever asked me my opinion about anything. Never. My father was always on the phone talking and talking and talking to people. But he had no interest in talking to me. Growing up, he used to hang out in the basement by himself all the time, he rarely interacted with me. Later, when I became an adult, he explained to me that for some reason he thought this was a viable way to solve the problems that he was having with my mother. Apparently it didn't occur to him that any solution involving not being present for his children should not have been one that he was willing to entertain. Just "staying away" from his children should have been completely unacceptable to him, but unfortunately for me, he somehow decided that this was a viable course of action. My dad didn't walk out on me. He didn't abandon me when I was a little kid. He was there. He had every opportunity to speak to me, to take an interest in me, and find out what I was about. But he didn't. He just wasn't interested. I got my first pair of dentures at 31 years old because when I was a kid, he never noticed that I wasn't brushing my teeth. He just didn't notice me. He wasn't interested. When I became an adult, I moved to Toronto, and my dad just wasn't interested in me. He didn't call me. He didn't ask what I was doing. He didn't make any inquiries about the kind of life his daughter was living. He had no curiosity about me. He just wasn't interested. He made it sound like he was doing me a favor. But he never asked me if this favor he was doing for me was what I wanted from him. He didn't know what I wanted. He didn't know me. He never asked. He wasn't interested in me, from the very beginning to the very end. I lived in his basement for years; he never asked me what I was doing down there. At one point, I remember I had been living there for about three years. I came upstairs wearing an apron, and he asked me if I was cooking down there. He had no idea what I did in his basement each and every single day. He didn't know that the things that I was doing in the basement set my soul on fire. I was so unbelievably passionate about the activities that I was doing in his basement. They were the only thing I had in my life that moved me. I didn't care about TV. I didn't care about movies. I didn't care to hang out with friends. All I ever wanted to do was make art. Every single day from the moment I woke up to the moment I had to go to work. But 3 years into me living with him, he didn't know why I was wearing an apron when I came upstairs that day. He had no idea what I was passionate about. He just wasn't interested. Again, his explanation was that he was doing me a favor, but it was a favor I never asked for. He never asked me if that's what I wanted. It wasn't relevant to him. Who I was inside was never relevant to him. My dad taught me that I wasn't worth knowing, that there was nothing valuable inside my heart. I had nothing to offer, that I wasn't worth taking an interest in. He wasn't evil. He did, in fact, love me. He used to drive me places and buy me things from time to time. He came to find me in Toronto, and then let me live in his basement for many years. But he had no interest in me, and that matters. I was sentenced to spending the rest of my life trying to convince myself that I was someone worth knowing."

0 notes

katsukikitten · 3 years

Text

In which Shoto is an asshole Oni and I am the author that wrote the majority of this fic tipsy, you’re welcome! Bnharemcollab masterlist found here

Warnings: Non con bruv. Claws horns? He's an oni bud

"And they say he's been stealing the hearts of beautiful women for centuries. So don't go talking to any ole handsome man that steps over a threshold." The tour guide adds to the end of her ridiculous story about some Demon King that drags women to hell before she leads the group onto the next painting.

Still there was something captivating about the art work, how the man has his back to the viewer and how women bow to him, foreheads pressed into the tatami mats with their own bleeding hearts held high over their heads. Blood drips from their hands, splattering on the mats like rain or tear drops. The man, who is assumed to be the Oni, is looking over his shoulder, hand reaching out for the nearest offering. Both figures are forever suspended in brush strokes and desire for more. The closer you inspect the other worldly looking figure the more your gut tightens. His elaborate kimono hangs loosely from his body but you can still see the broadness of his shoulders, the thick bands of muscle on his forearms, the apparition of elongated nails when you look closer and finally the faint strokes atop of his two toned hair that are in the shape of sharp horns.

A God among men or maybe you should say a Devil among friends. A sigh escapes you as you admire the work before the tour guide announces the title, artist and time period of the next piece. “Wrath of the Mountain God.” A large man, with long hair so deep in hue you first mistake it for black, stands in a Kimono. His chest on display as he stands giving the view his profile, his eyes glow red in the light of the full moon, in his arms seems to be a maiden, a flower crown falling from her hair. It looks as if his strong form had just taken a step, beneath his foot begins a nasty fissure that gapes the Earth for miles and miles. The painting feels charged and emotions practically drip from the ink painting and yet still your eyes flicker to the painting to it’s right. At this angle you can see a faint shimmer in his smoky quartz colored eye. It sends a shiver down your spine as you feel a faint breath on the nape of your neck. Quickly you turn your head, craning your neck to look over your shoulder but no one stands behind you. Just another painting, “Golden God of Destruction.” Red gaze glowering as his hair drips gold, while he walks over the hellish landscape of cooling and erupting lava. You swallow thickly before following the tour guide onto the next section.

The tour lasts another half an hour but your mind lingers on the shimmering eyes of the dangerous entity. The more you think of him the bigger the sinking feeling in your gut becomes, not to mention the more you feel as if something is stalking your every move. Another quick glance over your shoulder as you exit the museum while you ponder over why this particular Oni was handsome when all of the other artworks featuring a yokai or oni were depicted as ugly, grotesque even.

Maybe it was because he was the King? You couldn’t be sure, all you knew is that you could understand why the women would rip out their hearts and offer them up to him. He was hot as hell, no pun intended.

Suddenly the fall air smells of frost and the threat of snow, you wrinkle your nose before you jump out of your skin. .

"So you liked the "Oni King, stealer of heart’s'' piece best?" A smooth voice calls from behind you, you press your hand over your rapidly beating heart as you try to catch your breath. Startled, you turn around to see a handsome man opening the gate, stepping over the grass line onto the sidewalk. Instantly you feel heat rush you as a cool autumn breeze swirls around fallen leaves around your boots.

"How did you…"

"I come here often and no one has ever stopped and looked at that piece as long as you have." He seems stoic and you can just barely see the corner of his mouth lift up. You take a moment to really drink him in, his tall stature, his hair a shocking white with contrasting red and a scar that sits beautifully over one of his gem stone eyes. One a smoky quartz and the other a bright turquoise.

You swallow thickly as you stare at the other worldly man, finding little to no words as your heart beats into your ribcage. You grip at the fabric of your jacket over your heart, it pounds against your rib cage like a fluttering wild bird.

"Where are my manners? I am Todoroki Shoto. But you can call me Shoto." Again he offers his barely there smile, "And you are?"

It's laughable how you stumble over your own name, you have never had issues talking to attractive people before, what the hell was your problem now.

“It sounds lovely.” He says your name, it rolls off of his tongue like music makes you swallow thickly, your knees threatening to buckle and you can’t understand why you’re acting like a love struck teenager again. There is a contrasting air about him, just like his hair. Passion and reservation, raging power and quiet tranquility, and the feel of it is making you dizzy. Tipsy almost, drunk if you linger here too long. Just as you’re about to express how you’ll be late for dinner he smiles at you.

Fully this time.

And you think your heart was going to claw out of its calcium coffin but it stalls when you notice that it doesn’t fully reach his eyes.

“Well since you have a good appreciation of art, would you care to join me in the garden, the Chrysanthemum are in full bloom this time of year.” You swallow as you look at him, a twinge of fear lingering in your blood that is soon lost as he steps over the threshold of the garden, waiting patiently.

“Uh, yea I think I can spare some time.” You smile nervously, he offers out his hand.

“Be careful, the step down can be quite steep.” A genuine small form on your lips now as you remember the first time you set foot into this garden and almost twisted your ankle. You step over the threshold, blinking against the late afternoon sun as you do.

Except when you open your eyes once more, you are no longer in the garden. There are no shrubs and bushes, no cinderblock wall of the old museum, something more sinister stands in its place. The sky is an inky black, the full moon hangs overhead shining down onto a small village that thickens the closer it gets towards a large feudal era looking castle. Fading sunlight filter behind you as you whip your head behind you. A giant Torri stands where the aging fence and garden gate stood before, a hazy image of an autumn afternoon in the shape of the gate rapidly begins to shrink. Panicked you lunge arm outstretched as if catching a full elevator as you’re running behind for a very important meeting.

If only your paralyzing panic was over something so trivial.

A strong set of arms wrap around your waist, pulling you towards a chiseled chest as hot breath whispers cooly in your ear.

“I wouldn’t do that if you want to keep all of your limbs, love.”

Shaking you glance over your shoulder before you watch the portal to home close up.

Just like that the landscape that could be seen through the gate was endless night and rolling hills dotted with homes here and there. When you turn to face your captor his eyes narrow as he studies you. His gem stone eyes glittering in the rich moonlight, following your hands up to your chest. He stills as he listens and while he looks you notice the horns growing from his head. Thin and shaped into a deadly point. He tilts his head as if you are bewitching before he leans closer, capturing your hair between his fingers. Now that you were in the moonlight, in the realm he ruled, you looked...familiar and the feeling made his chest tighten.

“How does your heart feel?” He asks, eyes anywhere but yours. You try to jerk out of his touch but his warm hand wraps around your bicep keeping you well within arms reach.

“My heart?! What does that have to do with me standing in HELL!” You scream and it echoes across the chilled landscape. Some women in kimono pass by, keeping their eyes turned down as they pass but once they are a few steps behind this brute’s back, they send you withering glares.

Your attention comes fully back to the man in front of you, or maybe you should say demon. He presses his hand over your heart with a puzzling look. Your body heats from the contact and embarrassment, you were sure he could feel how hard your heart was pounding. All the while his brows knit upwards.

“Seems you aren’t affected…”He murmurs to himself, tonguing his cheek. Suddenly he tears your sweater, pressing his hand against your chest and part of your breast.

“Hey!” You protest until a burning sensation blooms on your skin, when he pulls away you see kanji puckering up, that reads “Shoto”

“That should keep the lower demons away...for now.” He grabs onto your wrist tightly, too tightly before your world bends and blurs. Folding in on itself as if Space and Time were suddenly a beautiful origami paper creased until the maker was satisfied.

The world is bright when you open your eyes next, cradled in an abundance of candle light as your stomach sours causing you to lurch.

“Ugh, not on the tatami!” A woman’s voice scolds, but her state doesn’t help the nausea that hits you in waves. She wears a beautiful kimono, embroidered with gold and silver thread on violet cloth, the chest stained a deep cherry and a hole is where her heart should be. Her hands stained blood red and you back up, panting as you try to keep a level head.

“Get her cleaned up.” Shoto snaps, “I will want her in my room promptly.”

The women in the room shake slightly, keeping their heads down, distantly you can hear the sound of a thousand thundering hearts, deafening in a sense. The stately woman gently guides you towards the bath in the large mansion, shock sets in as your gaze glazes over. Every hall has a woman, anywhere from the feudal era to today, all dressed in kimonos, most were dressed in the ones they obviously died in or dressed in old clothes with their tattoos and fresh wounds peeking out from beneath the fabric.

Every single person sends you a death glare.

You’re stripped of your clothes and dignity in the company of about twenty women, hands shove you into the steaming water, cupping the cloudy water to wash your skin.

No matter how often the woman dip their hands into the water, the blood never leaves their fingertips, forever stained in their sin.

“We gave them away, you know. Ripped them from our chests….” She looks up at you with a timid look.

“Kiyoko, hush.” An elder hisses as she straightens the thin piece of cloth you were going to wear once you were all pieced together.

“No, she deserves to know..” Kiyoko hisses back, “The story is similar for a lot of us, he appears in a doorway, he seems kind enough, and then we look into his eyes. Gazing too deeply before our hearts seize in our chests, flopping around as if behind your flesh was killing it and it should sit in the palm of his hand. The only logical thing was for us to reach deep inside of ourself and give him what he deserved.” A quite falls over the room before a heavy solem air settles on your shoulders.

“He stopped for a while….after he met you.” Your eyes flash to hers and the elder’s hand wraps into Kiyoko’s hair, pulling her away from you.

“Enough.” She snarls as tears run down her cheeks, down all the women’s cheeks and you swallow thickly.

After an hour of primping you find yourself in front of two sliding tatami doors that have Oni and other yokai decorating their sheets.

“Send her in.” A deep voice sounds from the other side.

“Yes master.” The women answer, opening the doors before one shoves you in.

Doors to the eqwaa are open as he lounges on the polished wood, staring at the moon. He turns his head to look over his shoulder and it eerily reminds you of the painting in the museum.

In an instant he is in front of you, backing you into the plush bed that sat in the middle of his room, you fall onto the raised futon looking up at him.

The lowlight plays tricks on your eyes, the square paper lantern and the moon painting him in strokes of kind, of hurt, not some beastly thing he obviously was. Even his horns seemed soft, but nothing was softer than his lips as he pressed them to yours. Embarrassingly ecstasy blossoms under your eyelids as liquid heat floods your core. His tongue probes yours as he leans over top of you, playing with you nipples through the thin cloth as you moan into his mouth. Your body arches into his his as your heart flutters, trying to pull you away from his addicting touch.

Maybe you could have gotten away, maybe….

If only his hand hadn’t slipped between your thighs where he teased your sex utnil you pruned his figners, singing like the song bird he knew you were. His hard cock presses against your thigh twitching with delight. He kisses down your throat before he shreds the thin white kimono away from your body. He groans audibly before he leans down, one finger pulling at your pebbled nipple while the other pulls it between his teeth.

“Shoto…”You cry and he moans into your supple skin. Taking off his own thin kimono to align himself up to your fluttering hole. Eyes glued to your heart, fingers tracing the kanji as he eases himself in inch by inch. Stretching you and filling you pleasantly. He sits for a moment, taking in your body and how you burn under his touch. Free hand roaming your body as the other prods your fresh burn. Tracing the strokes over and over as if he wrote it himself.

Well technically he did.

“Please.” Your mouth betrays, hips pressing up into his to get any sort of friction, his free hand comes down, slamming your hips into the bed.

“Say it again.” He huffs, “Say my name again.”

“Shoto.” It's a hushed, reluctant breath but your skin was icy hot, lifeforce feeling as if it were evaporating away from the heated tension that sat between you two. He watches your body wither, feels your cunt clamping down onto him desperately and it’s all he can do not to thrust into you widely.

“Again.” He barks, pulling at your nipple harshly.

“Shoto.” You moan, the sound is enough to make him start his harsh pace. Pelvis slamming into yours as his tuft of pubic hair glides across your clit. Your vision blurs with tears, it feels so good. Better than anything you’ve ever had or could ever remember as his claws ghost over your soft skin.

“You thought you could escape me.” He grunts, ramming himself into you harder, you moan in response, “I marked more than your flesh two hundred years ago, I marked your soul.”

“You couldn’t help yourself, coming back to the very piece of art you created.” He continues with a laugh, claws raking down your skin, slicing at your skin superficially. Your eyes roll into the back of your head and you cannot fathom what he’s said. All that there is the feel of his hands, the pleasure that threatens to snap in your stomach.

He watches the way your cunt coats his cock in a silvery sheen that has his lips parting. Taking wanton ruts, the motion of it rattling the art on the wall. Pieces fall around you and any of the scrolls that try to block his view of you get shredded mid air. His thrusts turn sloppy as he comes down to bite at your neck.

“Shoto!” You cry out, vision going black as your body convulses around him, eyes rolling in to the back of your head as you forget your name and only cry out his.

“That’s right, tell me who you belong to. Who owns you love.” He pants, holding his own release for a moment longer just to hear your sweet voice scream his name over and over. Finally your milking cunt sends him over the edge. He grunts, staring into your eyes as he paints your wall a creamy white.

“Mine.” He growls, biting at your breast, at the skin over your heart. You feel his spilling cock harden again as your body melts into the sheets.

Most of the night is spent in mind numbing ecstasy and in those few short hours you forget you were ever brought here unwillingly.

You sit on a throne, overlooking the vast landscape of Yomi, Oni running the underworld as heartless women wander the streets. Their mortal heartbeats keeping time as they ceaselessly beat just beneath your feet. Mind’s eye miles away as you see a ghost of a hand before you. Memory playing out as you take careful brush strokes against your canvas, hoping this would serve as a warning for other women as you dab the brush in the deep colored liquid that stains the tatami floor of your home.

Ever the artist you wanted to add final touches even as you drew your final breaths, having thought it better to take your own life than to sit at the right hand of a demon, your chest was already mutilated with his name.

Irony weighs heavy in your stomach as you realize how futile it was to even make that masterpiece. It did not serve as a warning.

No if anything, it served as a beacon, drawing you like a moth to flame until you circled to close.

Burning up in the flames of the very thing you admired.

#todoroki x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #oni shoto x reader #tw: non con #twnoncon

238 notes · View notes

thesedangeroustemptations · 3 years

Text

Baki Boy’s and a fearless/overly-outspoken s/o

Hi y’all! This is my very first headcanon and it’s something that just came to mind while insomnia decided sleep wasn’t allowed. Some are going to have a S/O who speaks out and acts the way they do due to past feelings of restriction and inability to do so, and some are just personality traits in general so a small TW is in order I suppose. I hope you all like it!

Baki:

At first, he had no idea how to deal with that. He was used to Kozue who would only ever speak on her feelings when pressed for them, so when he saw his S/O immediately snap back at Yujiro for his comments and general way of being unprompted, he felt a bit of fear for their safety but also a swelling of pride began to grow in his chest.

He knew they were free spirited and spoke their mind from the beginning, what was apart of what drew Baki to them in the first place, but in the face of The Ogre?

He was shocked to say the least and every alarm in his head was going off to get them out of there before they ended up dead, but Yujiro simply laughed, smirked at his son and gave him a dark warning.

“Don’t let them bark harder than you can bite, that might just be what puts them down.”

The longer that they spent together, the more accustomed to their general ease with saying whatever floated through their head at the time, and lack of care for the outcome of what was said/done.

This has lead to more than a few occasions where Baki has had to pick them up and sprint away from the situation to keep from having to beat someone’s face into an unrecognizable pulp the second an advance was made in the direction of his S/O.

He comes to appreciate their honesty and finds it easier to be around them compared to other people due to the low probability of them hiding anything from him, and it being far easier for him to tell when something is wrong.

Will ask their opinions when making big decisions because he knows they have no fear going forward in life and will tell him their exact thought process regardless of whether it fits with what he’s wanting. To them, it’s what’s best not what is wanted if you’re asking their opinion.

Would support them saying whatever is on their mind/heart, but worries for their safety when he isn’t around to watch out for them.

Loves them for them regardless of if they lack the ability to keep their feelings to themselves while Baki himself is rather reserved.

Jack:

To say he was surprised to have this tiny (anything is compared to him-) individual he hadn’t seen before snap at him for hogging the bench press during his routine workout at his favored gym would be an understatement.

The man was an absolute giant who towered over even the tallest of men and could easily break most in half, yet here this tiny firecracker was getting angry at him. An interesting development indeed.

From then on, he set out to make it his mission to get to know this unique person. For someone to get his eye off of getting stronger and defeating his father is an award all it’s own, but for him to actively chase them was an entirely different thing.

Does eventually win them over through a mixture of gentlemanly behavior and healthy sarcasm, while proving he’s a trustworthy person to hold their heart and guard it.

Jack found himself growing protective over them when he witnessed them exchanging heated words followed by blows over a dispute in a bar he miraculously found himself at the same time as them.

He decided that moment he was going to make them his, and he was going to keep them safe forever, especially from Yujiro.

Hundred percent would do his best to keep them separate, but Yujiro, being Yujiro, would find a way to make his son’s life harder and intervene, belittling him in some way around his S/O and that would be the end of it.

Jack thought he had seen them go off before? Oh, no, no. Not when it came to someone they care about deeply. They started spewing every insult they could think of at the red-headed Hanma giant, feeling not an ounce of fear in their body- that’s because all of it entered Jack’s the moment they opened their mouth.

Used every bit of endurance he built up to grab them and run as far as he could in as quick a pace as possible to get them to safety.

Knows there’s no way he can change them, and that he wouldn’t want to. Their outspokenness was what made him fall for them after all.

Katsumi:

This man has a thing for outspoken S/O who takes charge, he may seem like an alpha male but he would instantly fold the moment his beloved gives him the look. Is not to afraid to admit this and chalks it up to his love and respect for their opinions.

Instantly fell for them the moment they entered Shin Shin Kai in a full-blown fit, eyes raging, nostrils slightly flaring and sights set on a member of his class. Obviously they did something wrong, but when he approached to find out exactly what was going on as any teacher would, he was instantly shut down.

“I’m not here for you, so if you don’t want your head bit off, I’d stay the fuck out of my way”

Needless to say, he was intrigued at this type of response from someone so much smaller than him, in his own father’s dojo, and after a few more prodding questions and standing in the way of what they wanted, he got the answers he was wanting as to what was going on.

Being the relatively peaceful guy he was, Katsumi managed to calm down the situation while somehow getting a date out of the whole scenario.

Everyone thought he was crazy for wanting to go out with someone as outspoken and rude like that, but he saw beyond that. He could see there was someone fearless and thoughtful under there, and he wanted to see what else was buried beneath the surface.

Man, was it worth it. They didn’t fear anything it seemed, always willing to try new activities with Katsumi and his friends, be it new roller-coaster to cliff-jumping on their days off at the ocean, it didn’t matter. They were always up for it, the acts seemingly bringing them closer each time.

He grew to love and respect them greatly, reminding them daily how much he admires their ability to speak their mind without fear and has no issue setting anyone straight regardless of who it is.

Would never admit it to their face or out loud but he really worries about them when he’s gone, knowing that not everyone can see the kind person they are inside and could easily take their words or actions the wrong way.

One of the few who actually trains his S/O in martial arts, even just the basics, to keep themselves safe when he isn’t around.

Doyle:

Oh boy.

This idiot would be voted most likely to attempt to kill his S/O for opening their mouth about how he doesn’t seem as tough as everyone is making him out to be.

Has the hardest time out of all of the men to adapt to having a S/O who speaks whatever comes in their mind and letting him know exactly what they think of his actions, good or bad. This is not something he is used to and not being able to just leave or kill the person saying it was something that was completely new to him.

Would be the definition of opposites attract. Doyle is known for being more reserved, keeps things to himself and generally reminds others of a cat with his observant and quiet behavior. In comes his lover who is open about her thoughts and feelings regardless of who asks, will shout and loudly express themselves when upset or frustrated, and is basically a dog personified.

Doyle catches himself watching their surroundings more cautiously when they go out due to not knowing exactly what is going to slip out of his lovers mouth, and being fully prepared to cut the tongue out of anyone who dared breath in their direction wrong.

Eventually he learns what will set off his S/O quicker and what is the best ways to calm them down when they are feeling like they need to be heard about a certain scenario.

He’s a very observant man, and when spending nearly everyday with a person he cares for, he will swiftly find ways to make things easier for them without their noticing. He can’t have them thinking he cares too much.

Around the other inmates or Yujiro Hanma is the only time Doyle feels any inclination of fear, prompting a fight, flight, or freeze response to which he typically chooses the middle option with his S/O in toe.

He would rather be viewed as a coward for fleeing with what is his than lose it because they don’t have the ability to keep their damn mouth shut for someone looking at either of them wrong.

Would enjoy having a S/O who expresses what they’re feeling, but would hope for one who had some sentiment of common sense so he didn’t have to constantly worry.

Retsu:

Probably handles them the best out of all of the boys to be honest.

Is used to hotheaded and outspoken people himself already (*cough* Katsumi *cough*), while also having been one in his past, Retsu is the most suited to dealing with their outbursts and reckless actions due to a lack of fear.

Likely met his S/O while in Japan for the Maximum Tournament and overheard them going off in the distance about something that was a passion of theirs that they felt had been disrespected.

Retsu could relate given his overprotective nature in regards to his Chinese Kenpo, so when he saw them chest to chest, red-faced and still going at it while showing no signs of backing down, he knew he had to step in and defuse the situation before their beautiful/handsome face was ruined over an argument.

Has no problem with letting them rant and rave about things their passionate about or that bothered them throughout the day/week that they managed to hold in for Retsu’s sake.

Expresses his feeling the easiest out of the men except for possibly a tie with Baki, so makes it known that he worries for their safety and wants them to try their best to keep it together while they’re apart, being rewarded with whatever treat they would like followed by cuddles and a venting session.

Comes up with different means for them to let out their frustrations with the world without having to blow up on everyone/everything that upsets them; i.e. gives them swearing coloring books to create art out of every swear word/insult they could think of.

Doesn’t want his S/O to keep things inside or to change, he just simply wants them to learn there is a time and a place for going off about things you’re passionate about, but when faced with the strongest being in the world? That is not the time, and even someone like Retsu, who believed that nothing could beat Chinese Kenpo, could recognize that.

If things ever got heated out in public and his S/O began to argue with another person, don’t think for a second that Retsu wouldn’t break a man’s jaw for talking to his love with any kind of bass in their voice.

Loves and accepts his S/O for who they are, but is likely to help try and gently mother hen them into channeling that into a healthier outcome.

#baki headcanons #baki the grappler #katsumi orochi #retsu kaioh #baki hanma #jack hanma #doyle #headcanon #im sorry if this is bad #i tried #4 am posts

183 notes · View notes