#i'm somehow pissing her off would i ever know to change anything?? i just feel so frustrated bc it's like she's an entirely different person | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

matchadobo · 6 months

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KIDD; babysitter

wc: 3462 summary: reuniting with the kid you're babysitting after nine years certainly went the way you didn't expect it to warning/s: nsfw, fem reader, p0rnp0rnp0rn, cute little kidd, actual s3x happens proceed with caution, faces1tting, p in v, no grooming don't worry they're all wholesome when kids during adults is spicy tho 😳

you used to babysit this little redhead when you were sixteen and he was nine. he always had this prominent scowl that contorted the serenity on his face. he had the palest skin you've ever seen, well at least back then, you haven't encountered anyone with the degree higher than that of his. he had the richest red in his hair, thick curls hanging at the sides of his chubby cheeks.

he wasn't a rowdy, loud kid. he was a mean fucking kid, but somehow, you two can get along in the long run. maybe it's because you weren't one to discipline him and just let him do his shit, only cleaning up if his parents would be close to come home.

but what pisses you off the most though is how he always comes home being the dirtiest rugrat on the neighborhood. what's weird about it is he doesn't even roll on the muddy roads nor play with other children, them children always says he was very mean to them. he always had a wrench in one hand a contraption he made in the other, it's one of the times where he voluntarily comes to you to show off the said contraption. you'd have the responsibility to clean him up in the bath afterward, begrudgingly.

it lasted only when you were eighteen, school was getting hectic and he was gradually growing up to not need a sitter. you two developed a bizarre relationship of unanimous silence and stay-in-your-business shit to have gone for two years. but what you've noticed in your second year is that he had grown distant; he avoided your eyes, he gets shy when you ask him about his 'contraption', he doesn't meet you as a rugrat no more, and he actually does the chores you mostly do. maybe he really is growing up, not really needing a sitter.

you buried those memories at the back of your head, nine years have passed and now you're on a stable business on your flower shop. the reason this surfaced from your memory is when you saw the owner of the new tattoo parlor that had been built just a week ago. he had the same rich shade of red for his curly, voluminous locks and somewhat rivaled the skin color of the kid you were babysitting. you normally don't pay him any mind, business is too busy. that is until, he visited your shop, seemingly buying something for his girlfriend.

"there any chance i could get somethin' more than a bouquet?" he raised a brow, leaning by the counter to get to your level while you count his change.

"sure, anything else you want, sir?" you smiled, returning his change. you could see the shift in the glint in his eyes when your fingers touched.

"a chance to take you out and give these to you." he gestured for the bouquet of tulips he was clutching on those monstrous biceps. you took a moment to process his statement, blushing intensely afterwards.

"i-i uh... am not really available for those." you avoided his gaze, he towered over you but he feels like he was getting closer. his metallic scent growing pungent.

he took a moment to study you, before sighing. "of course, i'm just across, yeah? stay adorable, mo ghràdh (my love)." he winked, leaving with the bouquet.

you sat down on your chair, knees failing from what just happened. an incredibly hot UNIT just asked you out?! and you were too dumb to refuse?! you had no choice but to forget about it, you weren't really one to date.

few weeks had passed and you seem to have forget about it, you try your best to not glance at the parlor each time the owner is out. you don't know why but something deep in you wants to avoid and refuse anything related to him.

"oh my god, name?!" an old woman who was still radiating despite her age greeted you from the entrance, you took a moment and furrowed your brows. only to recognize the woman who took you in as a sitter nine years ago.

it took a lot of catching up, talking about your life mostly. you two were laughing and sharing stories, until she mentioned her son that fucking owns the tattoo parlor across your shop. the reason why she's here is she wants to give a bouquet to his son, for a successful half year.

your face couldn't muster up the shock that shook you to your core. she had to ask if you were okay. later enough, she was so excited that she planned to have a dinner with her family with you to catch up. well, you were pretty close with them in those two years. it'd be pretty rude to refuse this time.

and that's why you're sitting in this affluent house with high ceilings and shiny floors, across the redhead you remembered as someone so tiny was now bigger than you. the motherfucker never took his eyes off you, eyes that meant something more than curiosity.

"he's waaayy bigger than me, it's crazy!" you replied to the mother, laughing to reduce your uneasiness.

"right?! kidd was so focused on bulking up he's bigger than all of us!" his mother joked, nudging his son.

"that's enough about me, mammy. i'm more curious about name here, mind humorin' us about yourself?" he set his utensils down, clasp his hands, elbows resting on the table, and rested his chin atop his fists as he stared you down.

"hm? you've become so assertive now, kidd. back then, you were quite shy, hm? moreso, mean. have that changed too?" you tried matching up to his forwardness, raising a brow and holding his gaze.

"wanna fuck around and find out?" he cocked a brow, eyes narrowing.

there was silence, it's as if the room dimmed and the only light that radiated was the one between the two of you as you two had a mini staring contest on who'd look away first. you can't help it either, his golden orbs were something else, it's hypnotizing.

"gosh, you two were just like this back then! always having little bickerings!" his mother laughed, shaking you both to reality that you two weren't alone. "i'll let you two catch up, i'll just clean up." you almost begged her to stay, you don't know how to survive a room alone with him.

"hey name, come to the pool with me." he stood up, sauntering across the plutocratic house. you obeyed.

"why? you're inviting me to swim?"

once you've reached the pool place, he turned around, awfully close. "why don't we recreate some memories, yeah?" a grin made its way to his tinted lips. he simultaneously walked backwards to the pool as he unbuttoned the shirt that was way too tight on him.

your heart almost stopped in your chest. you two used to swim together during his birthday, you and a few other homies of his. "kidd... we aren't kids anymore."

by the time you complained, he was already shirtless, a body of a fucking greek god. he was unbuttoning his pants, now only his boxers that highlighted something too fucking distracting saliva was stuck on your throat. "and? can't you fucking swim now?" he teased, snickering. he wasted no time in diving, some of the water splashing on you.

"now i'm all wet, thanks." you sarcastically remarked, flapping your arms to dry off. he resurfaced, hair beautifully slicked back. he ran his hand across his face to dry off some water before shaking his head a bit to dry off his hair. he laughed a little, looking up at you. "well, seems you really have to get in now."

"how is that a reason to swim?" you placed your hands on your waist.

"come here, i'll tell you." he got closer at the edge of the pool, motioning his hand to ask you to get closer.

"i know this trick, eustass! i won't fall for it!" you raised your hands in defense, backing away from the pool.

"not if i drag you here though." he got up from the pool by propelling himself with his arms. body dripping as he ran to you and scooped you up like you weigh nothing. "ain't this nostalgic? you were the one carrying me like a sack back then."

"w-what the fuck?! you're so wet let me down!" you hit his chest, wiggling in his grasp as he gets closer to the pool.

"aye." he dropped you by the pool, shortly joining you afterward.

you both resurfaced, you gasped for air as he got closer to you. "i see you became even more of an asshole." you ran your hand across your face to get rid of some water.

his canines tugged at his lip as he grinned. "and you became even more damn whiny."

you two laughed for a moment, leaning closer. you two stood closer, getting lost in each other's eyes as well as the current of the pool.

"your eyes got more... golden." you mused at him, alternating glances at his orbs. he grinned a little.

"yeah? your smile got brighter too, you know that?" you were about to mutter out an insult but you slipped at the inclined floor towards the deeper part of the pool from the sudden push of the water. if it weren't for kidd pulling you closer by your arm as his other hand fell on your waist under water to pull you faster, you would've drowned.

"f-fucking shit!" you cursed, clinging onto his chest. "g-get me out of here, fuck!" you drummed at his chest and he bursted into laughter.

he abided, walking you to the stairs. he fetched a towel for you, throwing it above your head as he wrapped one around his hips.

"just borrow mammy's clothes, bathroom's on the left." he instructed, rubbing the towel on your head vehemently.

"okay, you can stop fucking with me now, kidd." you moved away from him, cursing out his grin now that he'd ruined your hair.

you did as he said. scanning through the clothes after washing up. you threw on a summer romper and dried your hair with the towel, walking outside to get some water on the kitchen.

as you were about to close the fridge door, you saw kidd was waiting on the other side of the room. "jesus christ, i told you to stop fucking with me!" you stomped on the floor, fists clenched.

he smiled a little, walking towards you. "not my fault you're jumpy."

"no, you just like to fuck with me, that's it."

"not entirely wrong."

"what's the other half?"

"that i do want to fuck you."

you were about to laugh, only to realize the meaning behind his words. you looked at him with the reddest face and the widest eyes. "k-kidd?!"

"yeah? want me to say it again? little closer by your ear, perhaps?" he leaned down closer, scrunching his nose.

you moved away, fanning yourself. "i'm just gonna pretend i didn't hear that-"

he grabbed your wrist, pulling you closer. "hey, that's just being unfair. you heard me loud and clear, bòidheach (beautiful). your face is enough damn reason." he tapped your chin, grinning as he stared at the redness of your cheeks. "and i'm sure you know how i want this to go, hm?"

"n-no kidd, this- we're in your mother's house...!" you looked around, looking for signs of his mother.

"and? i suppose you're aware that this is my house too and i have my room upstairs. kitchen'll do though."

"n-no! what are you talking about?! how the fuck did you reach that point where you wanted to do that with me?" the irritation was evident in your voice but that bastard was enjoying the show.

"well," he placed a hand on the fridge's surface, his biceps flexing and the veins on the crook of his elbow become more prominent, you were so fucking distracted your cheeks we're quite literally on fire. "innocent lil crushes evolve to somethin' more when you put on mini fuckin' skirts and tight fuckin' dresses everyday, it's hard not to look when you're just across the damn street, aye?" he eyed you, focused on the view of your cleavage from above.

"stop gawking at me, you pervert...!" you covered your chest. "i am not sleeping with you, feels weird."

"look, name." he shifted his weight, now crossing his arms. he didn't miss the way your eyes focused on how the bulge in his muscles got tighter and bigger. "it seems that you've got the idea that i'm still the little boy that you used to take care of, yeah? lemme do somethin' about that, m'eudail (darling)." his gaze darkened, his hands brushed by your arms before it finally settled on your shoulders.

there was silence. he had that cocky smirk while you pressed your lips together, trying to contain yourself from exploding. he cleared his throat, spreading his arms in surrender. "alright, i won't pressure ya. but know that i'll be waitin' in my room, last room on the right corner of the fourth floor." he winked before leaving you, heating up like a goddamn bonfire.

you took a moment before sliding down and sitting yourself down on the floor. it seems so fucking enticing, he seems so fucking enticing. the way you always catch his golden eyes that was highlighted by that beautiful red fucking locks almost undressed you, the way his toned fucking abdomen peeked from his shirt each time he lifts his arms and you see a hint of that happy trail, and how his thighs looked so goddamn huge on his ripped jeans.

"fucking hell, kidd." you mumbled to yourself, tugging on your locks. it didn't took you long enough to finally come to terms with it. so you gave in. it's just one time, right?

you made your way to the series of floors, passing by family portraits and baby pictures. you giggled to yourself seeing lots of pictures of both of you. soon enough, you reached the tall black door that seemed too conspicous that it indeed belonged to him. you hesitated a little before knocking with shaking fists.

seconds after, he opened the door with his shirt off. you tried your best to not gawk at how built this man is. he leaned an arm on the door that was halfway open, a knowing smirk on his lips as he eyed you up and down once more.

"i know what you're going to say, but i will only agree for one. fucking. time." you gritted your teeth, getting closer and raising your index finger at him. he nodded like an asshole, smile never faltering.

he placed his hand on the upper door frame, simultaneously leaning down closer to you while holding your gaze. "sure, cupcake. let's see how long you can hold your tongue."

you narrowed your gaze and there was a little staring contest between the two of you. he moved a little when he saw you trying to squeeze yourself inside, laughing at how cute you are. once you were walking inside he spoke, "why the change of heart?" he shut the door, flicking the lock.

you took a look around his room, it was mostly dark and reds, of course. littered with band posters and a spray painted wall that seemed to be an original art by him. red led lights wrote his name at the top of his black, tufted headboard. "prove me wrong about earlier, i guess."

he got closer, arms gently prying your crossed arms off, and landing on the buttons of your dress. "right, let's get into it, yeah?"

once he unbuttoned all of it and you let him, you stood there as his hands rested on either sides of your bare waist. his hands were cold. you linked foreheads as you exchanged deep breaths from the contact. "your hands are cold." you muttered, his metallic perfume clouding your senses. "and you're fuckin' sweatin', princess." he complained at the small beads of sweat on your lower back.

his hands roamed down your cheeks, squeezing both with much fervor before giving it a smack. you flinched, hands landing on his chest. "asshole." he cocked a grin at your remark, squeezing tighter to pull your hips closer.

your hands roam the span of his chest, across his shoulders, and up to his neck. your fingers traced the edges of his face, up to his tinted lips. soon enough, he licked the tip of your fingers before biting the skin a little. "come here, give me a kiss. i know you wanna." he growled, hands traversing to where your bra clips where.

you ignored him but complied, pulling him down to your level and colliding your lips with his. boy, was it the wildest kiss you've ever experienced. he immediately slid his tongue inside, taking control of your mouth. he smiled through the kiss before biting your lower lip when he felt you hitching a breath and wrapping your arms around his neck. he swiftly carried you by your bum and wrapped your legs around his waist.

it didn't take long enough for both of all of your clothes to be on the floor and now you two are hungrily making out on his bed. you sat on top of his lap while he sat like a fucking king on his bed, leaning by the headboard as he played with your ass until it's red. he relishes on how your folds periodically rub across his length, how your tits bounced on his neck and chest, and how warm and good your body feels when he hugs it.

"sit on my face." he ordered, muttering through hot pants and wet kisses. you almost fell on his lap if it weren't for his grip on your hips.

"w-what?" your eyes widened and your cheeks flushed, as if you weren't naked with him doing unholy things.

"you heard me, lovely." his eyes darkened, smile growing. "i'll fuckin' drag you here if i have to."

so you did, you weren't sure how to position yourself, it was your first time sitting on someone. so you carried yourself a little, afraid of suffocating him.

"baby," he peeked after giving one languid lick on your crevice. "when i tell you to sit on my face, sit. fucking. down." he pulled your hips down, both hands settled on your thighs as you completely took over his face.

oh, he took his time alright. slurping, sucking, and biting while he bullies your ass. you had to get a hold of the headboard because of how this goddamn animal devours you. "s-slow d-down- fuck!" you almost squealed, pulling on his hair. you felt him smile through your lips.

you were worn out afterward, overstimulated and he haven't even used his length. he gave you kiss on the cheek before pumping his length, "i-i don't think it'll fit..."

he bursted into laughter, "you're too fuckin' adorable, come here." he pulled you closer by the neck. "i'll make sure you'll beg for it later, don't worry."

and the bastard really did make you beg for it. he's got you pinned down between his arms with you back facing him as he rams you from behind. the repeated contact of your skin resounded around the four walls of his room. your chin was buried down his black pillows that scented so much like him it made you go even more crazy, your eyes were rolling at the back of your head as you utter out slurred curse words, drunk on his dick. he was fucking prying your walls open. his length was too girthy and huge. he always makes it a mission to reach your cervix with each thrust. you fisted the sheets, going crazy with each movement of his hips.

he leaned down and bit on your shoulder before licking on your ear. "enjoying yourself a little too much? you're way too fuckin' loud there, not that i'm complainin'. just hold on a little, i'm close." he gave the top of your head a kiss before returning back to his position, raising your ass up to have a sturdy grip and a harder thrust.

"i-i'm cumming," you slurred between your moans, toes curling and thighs shivering. and not too long after, you both came in unison, panting and whining against each other as he leaned his forehead on your shoulder.

"still a little boy?"

"shut the fuck up, you came all over me."

"why don't we clean up like you used to do to me, yeah?"

"you'll fuck me again in the bath, i'd rather not."

feeding y'all :>

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pantiesandpamperssissypart2 · 3 months

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"It's not okay, you know that, right?"

Jason was startled as he stared at his laptop in the living room. His wife Amber had just come from the basement. "I saw you post some stupid meme on your fucking Tumblr. About how you wear diapers and it's okay. It's not. You're not so fucking gone that you think that, are you?"

He sat there silently. Occasionally, ever since he had confessed his love for diapers and shown her his Tumblr and explained this is who he really was, she would have these little outbursts about his desires. Usually she just wanted to blow off steam. She had said she would never ever participate in his desires and had also cut him off from all sex or intimacy. But she'd said he could do what he wanted and she'd of course keep his secret. "Not like I want others knowing I married a diaper freak!" So he kept posting on Tumblr where he was anonymous and sometimes when she was at work and he was working from home he'd get out his stash and wear. And now he'd seen a cute meme and posted it to let others like him know he wore and it was okay!

But instead of leaving Amber kept standing there. And now she sat on the couch.

"It's revolting, is what it is. It's hard to believe a Stanford grad is so stupid he doesn't realize that. You gave up sex with your wife to wear a toilet around your waist. No, sorry. A sewer around your waist. And not only that, you do it not because it's a medical necessity, which would be gross enough but hey it happens to old folks in nursing homes, I suppose, but it's the sole source of your sexual pleasure. Like when you hear those words said aloud to you by a woman, it doesn't register that it's not okay that you wear diapers?"

Jason tried blurting something out but nothing came. He was kind of scared, she'd never acted like this since his revelation. Now she burst out laughing. "God. I can just picture you sitting here. Typing to your little friends, seeing some dumb photoshop that some imbecile put together in 3 seconds and you repost it as if it's as deep and meaningful as Martin Luther King Junior talking in Washington. You. Wear. Diapers. You shit and piss in diapers because it makes your pathetic excuse for a cock hard. And you think that's a-okay in today's society. You thought I would somehow, what, want to be your mommy. My god."

Was this ending soon? He hoped it did.

"So, I kind of changed my mind. Since you apparently think it's okay and you want to share that, I've done that. Figure everyone will know I'm not at fault and will feel bad for me. So I got over my fear of everyone knowing who I'd married. Now they'll know who I ditched. A diaper freak."

His jaw dropped.

"Yeah. All those pics on your laptop, few days ago I downloaded them to an external drive for safekeeping. Was never going to do anything with them but after seeing this idiotic post of yours where you apparently want everyone to know you're a Pampers-wearing pansy, well, guess what. I just sent them to your family. And mine. And your work. And friends. And everyone on that 10-year high school reunion facebook page of yours. Told them you revealed this to me and are loud and proud and want to be seen in your diapers and you think it's okay and they should too. Also, I'd like you out of here tonight. Like, 10 minutes ago but 10 minutes from now works too. Time for diaperboy to be who he is!"

Jason still hadn't moved. Still hadn't said a word. That's when his phone started blowing up. Just like his life.

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short-black-diamond · 11 months

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We got swoled and chaded 😂

Ok a request!!! Hmmm could you do something about the Kamille has a crush on Sahed/Rainah situation? Like Julia rambling to Sahed about how they can’t keep seeing each other because Kamille has feelings but lets slip that she is into him? Or honestly I’ll take anything

Yeah sure! I was thinking very much how the author(s?) would write Kamille and Julia actually talking about their situation and everything. Anywaysssss, let's do this!

I changed that request a little bit for personal reasons, so yeah...

Uh...it will be a little angsty for Julia (in my opinion), and I will do a shit ton of Kamille slander, however, I'm not good at this so you might not be that mad, but oh well!

Also I did not proofread.

Sahed x Julia

---

What did you just say?

How long? Or better; how much longer?

Another day has passed in this weird circus with living corpses acting like humans and the brown haired girl trying to figure out the magic behind it.

But that was pushed aside because of a new problem. Kamille had a crush on Sahed. That's what Julia thought as she made yet another useless attempt of trying to find the girl who was most aqquainted to her. And she failed yet again.

With a frustrated sigh, she sunk down on a nearby bench and just looked at the scenery in front of her; acrobatics making the most ridiculous and dangerous looking poses and stunts, others playing with balls, Dotty and Bob chatting away with some other adults and much many more circus-like activities taking place.

Julia felt...lonely. Yes. She felt abandoned. Why?

She was far away from home. She didn't know if she'd ever even see her father again.

Kamille was spending much more time with her new friends Rainah and Sahed.

Dotty was ignoring her uneasyness and hunger for more insight of the past of this circus.

Tonny didn't look like a bad guy.

Sahed was a mysterious boy.

Sahed...was also a boy, who was one of the many reasons she didn't feel good. Not in a bad way- it's just, he's...weird. Dangerous. somehow...hot?

No!

Julia did not just think that! Not about that cocky smirk! Not about that luscious hair! Not about those beautiful orbs...or that sweet little extra eye...!

"Oh hello there. Didn't think I'd see you here of all places.", the boy's voice said, pulling her out of her thoughts. She flinched and yelped, but Sahed only chuckled as it was no surprise to him. He got to know her, after all.

"S-Sahed! I-uh-", dammit, what should she say? And what did he mean by that? "I just...wanted to see how everyone was doing...", she spoke, albeit hesitantly. She couldn't trust that guy. Not when he seemed to look...understanding? Did he just giver her a look of sympathy? No, she must've imagined it.

Sahed was just as dangerous as everyone else in this place. "So so? And...where's Kamille?", he asked in faux concern, with the intention of annoying her again. He knew that Kamille was very dear to Julia, but it also pissed him off that she was spending more time with his sister than her best friend, even when she was designing the clothes.

But he didn't notice the way Julia frowned upon his question a little. Nor did he hear her heart crack. "I don't know. I thought she was with you.", Julia answered, but her tone lacked emotion.

So Sahed likes Kamille too. Lucky her.

Sahed felt weird for some reason. His third eye sensed some iffy stuff going on now. Sahed was alarmed, but didn't show it. "Why would she be with me? She only likes to hang out with my sister you know? It's so damn annoying.", and he yawned. Julia noticed the dark circles under his eyes. Why does he never sleep?? But on the other hand, he looks hot-

"Oh, then...you should be going to bed. You have heavy eyebags. It doesn't suit you."

Okay, no.

This was not the Julia he knew.

He wanted his old Julia back.

The one who'd always shout and yell and blush and stutter and look so ador- Hold on.

What was he thinking???

"And it doesn't suit to me that you're acting weird.", he declared, suddenly stepping closer to her. She was taken aback, of course, and leaned back because he was invading her space as she was sitting on the bench.

He was bowing, she was sitting. He then rested his head on her shoulder. And whispered: "What happened?"

It was soft. Yet a demand.

A soft demand.

Julia felt bewitched by his rizz powers/hotness bluntness and her breath hitched. instinctively, she pushed him away form her and looked away. "N-nothing's wrong with me!" Yet she wanted to tell him about her every concern.

"Something clearly is. Am I that much of a bastard to you that you don't want to talk to me?", he asked, and Julia risked it to look at him again.

Big mistake.

Instead of his usual, confident smirk, there was a...great sadness.. adorning his face. His brows were furrowed in a sad frown, the corners of his mouth went south and he even closed his third eye. She liked that eye the most. Even if she'd never admit to it freely.

And even though he still looked amazing, she couldn't help but feel another pang of pain and her heart cracked again. She didn't know if she could handle it. "I- can we talk in private then? I don't want unwanted eavesdroppers to hear us..."

and so, the two were in a cabinet that didn't belong to anybody from the circus. Julia took a big breath before she started talking.

"As you know, I'm Kamille's friend, but ever since we came here, she's been distancing herself from me more and more and found so many friends so easily. Meanwhile I'm here, trying to overcome the fact that we really might stay here for the rest of our lives."

She received a nod. Sahed was either trying to act like he cared, or he actually...did care. "I mean, sure, Kamille would make friends no matter where we'd be. I just...I always feel excluded. I know that I'm not as pretty or nice or good as her. Or what everybody sees in her but me. I knew that the kids our age only liked Kamille. They even told me."

Sahed frowned. Julia was actually a good person. How could anybody tell Julia that they wouldn't want to spend time with her? And telling her that they don't like her to her face?

What the hell?

She was... Weird, but cute. And he flushed at the thought, but Julia didn't really pay him any mind and kept going.

"Kamille...she, uh-jeez that will sound childish to you- but...she forgot my birthday. We normally always celebrated together. But this time, she just forgot!", Julia exclaimed, this time looking at Sahed, and this time too, he frowned.

"When she's your best friend, why does she do that? Shouldn't she have told those kids to not exclude you and be nice to you?"

At that, Julia was taken aback. Sahed actually listened and discussed it with her instead of making fun of her. Her cheeks warmed up, but she pushed her feelings away, only for them to grow a hundredfold when Sahed kept going.

"And how could she forget your birthday? Isn't she your best friend? Me personally, I wouldn't let that slide. No."

Suddenly, Julia felt embarassed. Kamille liked Sahed! Damn, why did she talk so badly about Kamille?!?!? She needs to fix this!

And, well, with futile attempts, the girl with the long hair laughed awkwardly. "B-but that's okay! Kamille's pretty nice aside from that! She can design such pretty stuff, don't you think?! She'd be a great girlfriend for you!!"

Ouch.

Ouch ouch ouch ouchouchouchouchouchouch-

"Wha- why would I want her to be my- whoah, whoah whoah whoah. Wait a minute. What the hell is going on?", the male glared at her.

Sahed didn't get Julia. In the first moment, she's depressed. Then she's talking about the problems in her life. What bad things Kamille has done. And then she's telling him to become her girlfriend???

Sahed didn't get girls. Girls were weird creatures.

he sighed and punched the bridge of his nose. "Julia, why are you telling me all your problems, Kamille not treating you right, like as in her not aknowledging your existence,", hence Julia averting her eyes with a hurt expression where in response his heart hurted, "nor standing up to your bullies, or even forgetting your birthday? She does not seem like such a good person to me. and I don't even think she likes me, more like-"

"What?! Of course she likes you! You're smart, handsome, sometimes funny, a good listener, handsome, weird, mysterious, handsome, and you're a good brother. I don't think that Kamille could get a better crush on anybody else than you."

All the while you were counting the reasons 'Kamille' could have a crush on him, he'd rather...want it to be Julia who did. "You know that you called me handsome three times, right?"

Ah, there was that hot smirk again. Sahed thought that he could tease Julia with it -and hopefully get a confession- but he was not prepared to hear her actually say it.

"Because I like you."

She- She said it like it was the most normal thing in the world...!

"What did you just say?"

Julia took a little while to process why Sahed's tan was getting redder and his eyes widening before she realized what she did.

She voiced her thoughts out loud.

She got a little whiplash from all the blood rushing to her head, but she was too focused on apologizing and telling him to forget that she ever said that. In her head, she was punching and kicking herself. Did I really say that?! Do I really like Sahed?! What will Kamille think??!

He was still stunned, but recovered quickly.

Slowly, he took one of her flailing hands in his and brought them to his lips.

"May I?", he asked.

And she couldn't believe it was really happening. Too weak to move her mouth, she just nodded weakly, and Sahed gave Julia a small kiss to her knuckles.

"Julia, I like you t-"

"Sahed- OHH, I'M SORRYYY~", Dotty interrupted Sahed's confession towards Julia with a laughing face. He was blushing furiously, because Dotty of all people had to see him in such a state. And he also thought that no one would look for him at this time.

Julia was no better. "D-DOTTY?! wha-what are you doing here?!"

The freckled woman only giggled and waved her hand before dissappearing again.

Julia and Sahed would have some explaining to do.

---

I honestly wanted Sahed to comfort Julia as well, but here we are.

I hope it was okay!!

Send in more requests please! Also please read my work "battle fairy" guys! Thank you!

#marionetta #marionetta x reader #sahed x reader #sahed #rainah #rainah x reader #kamille #kamille slander #we don't like kamille in this house #bob #dotty #tonny

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ms-cartoon · 1 year

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What do you think of the HH/HB google leaks? Any thoughts on them?

Sorry that it took me a while to reply to this. Had to sort out my thoughts.

Someone kinda asked me the same thing about HB leaks. About what I thought about it or if I've seen it? I've written a few paragraphs containing that question. I'm not gonna spoil whatever I saw in those leaks to the people who are reading this, but the gist of it is that I'm fully convinced that Helluva Boss will possibly NEVER improve. The writers (and you know who I'm talking about) don't seem to care at all about us critiques or what we have to say about this show. They don't bother to look over anything that might need improvement and they probably seem to think they've made the greatest masterpiece of all time. Apparently, the fans seem to think so too, and that's why there will probably be no improvement.

HB might as well be a routine of what happens in these episodes.

A**holes like Blitzo, Stolas, or Loona act inappropriately, how they're acting seems to affect those around them, someone calls them out and they start to realize the error of their ways and the episode makes it seem like they're going to change for the better only for them to not learn a damn thing and go back to being a**holes to everyone the next episode.

Everyone makes fun of Moxxie, Moxxie starts to feel insecure or inferior, suddenly he has one of those moments where gets a change of heart and starts to toughen up, the episode makes it seem like he's going to start being brave from now on only for the next episode to repeat the same plot point and we go back to Moxxie learning how to stand up for himself.

Octavia is a depressed teenager who is bothered by her father and the things that he's done that affected her. Whether or not she runs away, she's pissed off at him for the rest of the episode. By the end of the episode, someone gives her a pep talk and makes excuses for Stolas's actions and she starts to get a change of heart and forgive her father, the show ONCE AGAIN using Octavia as a plot point to make us pity Stolas and make it seem like he's a misunderstood, innocent, uwu sweetheart who doesn't mean any harm and only wants love.

Millie is just Millie....

And that pretty much explains the leaks that I've seen. So yeah... no kind of improvement whatsoever. (Though, the Octavia thing is a bit different).

As for Hazbin Hotel, I'll just speak about the ones that caught my attention the most....

I've been looking forward to this upcoming show for a while. My hype for it doesn't click as much as it used to, but I still would feel excited a little bit every time I see an update or something. Can't say I consider it to be the greatest show ever, cuz it has a lot of flaws that I've noticed too, but I do consider it to be more entertaining and interesting than Helluva Boss.

I'm fully convinced the HH might just falter as a show altogether somehow like HB, but all I could do is just hope for the best of this soon-to-be tv series.

As for what I think of the leaks? Well, for starters.....

Like I said, I'm not gonna give any details about the leaks. However, the first one I saw was Adam's script and sheet and honestly, his character is just as illogical as his character design!

From what I've read, I think he might just come off as this silly, goofball villain that everyone will love. Which is fine! There are plenty of antagonists who are goofy in tv shows. Like Dr. Doofenshmirks (Phineas and Ferb), Bill Cypher (Gravity Falls), Plankton (Spongebob), Izma (Emporers New Groove), Discord (My Little Pony), Even the freakin Joker!! Etc.

But with Adam, it's just... I dunno. Some things just don't seem to fit with his character. So for one... dude is an angel, but he doesn't seem to... act like one? We're supposed to see angels as good characters. We would expect to see them as the kind of people who would do NO wrong and are polite, well-behaved, and overall just good people unlike all the sinners in hell who are not very good people and don't care at all about wanting to be redeemed. And reading Adam's character as well as the script... I don't see any of that. Viv deliberately made him out to be this immature and carefree jackass who likes to rule over people. He's also pretty sexist. If anything, he just comes off to be another one of Hell's demons, looks and characteristics alone. And this is super ironic cuz he's supposed to be head of all the angel military and protector of heaven. You'd think that in that case, Viv would leave out the childish character in him. Plus, I have a pretty good feeling that the only reason he kills and exorcises demons in hell is because he just likes to do it. Like- it's not because it's his job or he feels he's supposed to or anything. He just does it because.... it's fun.

Oh and also, this one likes to cuss up a storm too......

Yeah... that doesn't exactly seem very "Angel" fitting. Honestly, I think Adam needs a whole new character upgrade. For someone who's supposed to be an angel made from heaven, he doesn't seem like one, let alone look like one. Not to mention it just makes Charlie's goal absolutely pointless. Like, she wants to redeem sinners, and yet we have an angel created in heaven who is an a**hole and says offensive things about women. What's the point in turning sinners into good people if they're probably gonna act the same way in heaven?

Of course, not to say that the angels can't at least act like villains. What I'm saying is, they shouldn't be considered evil since we're supposed to see them as good people. But they can just seem like antagonists since our protagonists are demons and we're supposed to side with them in a way. The angels attempting to kill them would just be bad for us viewers since that's NOT what we want. We don't want them to kill our protagonists, but since they're just doing their job as angels, we can't consider them evil or villains. Cuz in the end, they're just doing what they're instructed by heaven to do, and not because they wanna do it if that makes sense.

One of the main things that caught me off guard with Angel's design was his extra pair of arms.

Okay, so you see how his whole skin (or fur, I guess) color is white? Or white with a very faint tint of pink? Looking at his second pair of arms, I thought that it was his bare skin and that it was short-sleeved. But, apparently, his white arms are just his... white gloves! That caught me completely off guard and I was ultimately thrown off by this detail. Like, if Viv was gonna make him wear an extra pair of gloves, why can't they be another color?? Why couldn't they be the same as the first pair??? They legit had me thinking it was a simple short sleeve.... but nope!! He's just wearing really long gloves. For real, does he NOT get hot wearing that???

As for Angel Dust as a character? To put it simply..... well... he's just as flawed as every other character created by Viv. It's a little funny for me to say, cuz I don't even hate him completely? Initially, I did think he was awesome... like he's someone you'd want to be friends with. But now... he's just another Vivzie character I can hardly take pity for no matter what kinda bullsh*t he goes through cuz in the end, he don't deserve pity.

He's like Stolas in a way; he gets abused and manipulated by someone but has no problem acting like a douche to other people around him. And we are expected to take pity on him, cuz "Ooh, he can't help it! He's always abused and raped by Val! He has every right to be an a**, insult people around him, and cause trouble. Poor Angel!!"

Like... no....

As we all know, Angel Dust is a VERY OPENLY gay dude, and proud of it too. He's very sexual, likes to flirt and have sex with dudes (women too sorta, if they pay him more), sex jokes 24/7 with this man, and overall just like d*cks. Did I forget to mention he's gay? Yeah, what's unlikable about his character, and I may have mentioned something like this before, he's your typical gay man who just likes to have sex and is super perverted, and it is NOT a very good representation of the lgbt community. Viv has been doing that a lot with her characters and it's just flat-out annoying. He's just another walking fanservice!

Another thing that is annoying, not to mention confusing, is that he's a sexual character we're supposed to laugh at because he's sexual, and yet at the same time, we're supposed to take pity on him cuz he has a pimp who sexually abuses him? This is the kinda thing that happened with HB too;

Stolas flirts with Blitzo, harassing him and manipulating him. Blitzo does the same thing with his coworkers, stalking them, sexually harassing them, and even threatening to rape them at one point and all that was supposed to be painted as funny, when really it's not. The same thing happens with Angel; he makes sex jokes while also being a flirt with all the dudes around him and we're supposed to find this comedic and funny. But then he has a pimp who is just beyond cruel to Angel, sexually harassing him, raping him, very abusive, and in this case, we're supposed to cry and take pity on Angel?

....So, which is it?? Are we expected to laugh at his trauma or not?? Like, PICK ONE!!!

Why are we even laughing at the one thing that's supposed to depress him???

It doesn't even make sense with him as a character, because he'll go having lots of sex with folks, making sex jokes, brag about how hot he is, about how much he likes to get laid, flirt with other dudes, offer a blowjob out of nowhere, etc. and he'll feel all proud of, would gladly do all that sh*t again. But then minutes later, when someone does the EXACT SAME THING TO HIM, he'll start to feel hurt, harassed, or abused.

Again....Which is it!!!?? PICK ONE!!!

Another thing I notice is that his sheet mentions that he has trouble trusting people he meets. What exactly does Viv mean by that? Correct me if I'm wrong, but if someone doesn't have trust in you, then they would be a bit... standoffish. They would probably be aloof, not even wanting to make small talk, probably wouldn't even want to be your friend. Y'know just someone with trust issues. With Angel? I didn't see ANY of that in the pilot! I barely even saw it in the comic. Angel was super quick to become friends with Charlie and Vaggie. Albeit, he acts like a douche, he's still comfortable enough to crack jokes around them and is quick to accept the free housing they offered. If anything, he just takes advantage of them, causing trouble and making them look bad. Not to mention that he felt a little bad when he saw the sad look on Charlie's face and initially wanted to comfort her.

Then there was the ADDICT mv by the end where Angel scowls at Charlie and turns away from her. Why are we suddenly seeing him acting so mean?? And it's not mean like "It's just a prank bro." kinda mean. It's mean like, "Don't talk to me!". THAT is the only time where we see him having trust issues, and that's it! And then I look back at the pilot, the comic, and these audition scripts where he is having normal conversations with Vaggie and Charlie all the while being a little friendly with them. Does he have trouble trusting people or doesn't he???

And y'all can't tell me "Oh, it probably took him a while to start trusting Charlie and Vaggie." This dude spent two weeks with them! Even in that time, the only communication Angel should have with them is small talk and cold shoulders.

I honestly don't know what to expect from Angel when the show comes out. I'm just hoping he won't be totally botched like the majority of the characters in HB. But considering the rate that it's going, it's more than likely.

I actually like Husk a lot, so I really hope they don't screw up him in this series.

Not sure if there's much I can say about his character yet? All I know is that he's a really grumpy Garfield who likes drinking more than he likes eating.

I will say something about his design though. I don't totally find his look ugly.... and that's kinda the problem. So Husk is supposed to be an old dude. Like in his 60s or something. But the only trait he has to that is his gruff deep voice. The rest of him?? I guess some of Viv's characters just can't exist without them looking like you wanna simp for them, no matter if their designs don't match their character traits. If you want Husk to be an old grump, then make him LOOK like one. Have him be like Grunkle Stan from Gravity. At least give him a beer gut or something since he likes to drink a lot!

While we're on the topic of beers, I kinda agree with Vaggie with her comment about the bar. The whole point of Charlie's hotel project is to counsel any of the guests that come and visit. Help them cope with any sort of trauma or depression they have. Turn them into good people. Help them get over any kind of addiction they have. I really don't think the whole bar thing is gonna help any alcoholics who wanna drink until they sink. If anything they're just tempting them to show up and ask for a drink just by having the bar there.

I've read Val's sheet and scripts and judging by those alone, I just know he's going to end up being another villain we are not going to take seriously at all. I don't even think I could call him a villain. I agree with what @showtoonzfan mentioned in one of their posts, he comes off as a school bully, your typical pimp who considers his prostitutes to be his property, and will be quick to get angry if he doesn't get his way. He'll probably say something like this to Angel, "I own you! I control you!" And I might just end up laughing cuz, of course he gonna say that, he's a pimp. And all pimps act like this (sarcastic voice).

That's pretty much all I could say for now. If you're curious about any others, I can try to think about it and give my input.

#hazbin hotel #helluva boss criticism #helluva boss critique #helluva boss critical #helluva boss #anti helluva boss #critique #vivziepop

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defodisturbed · 10 months

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my cinderella - Zdinarsk x reader

Synopsis: After a kiss at midnight during a military ball, you instantly fall in deeper love. When you run away, embarrassed and worried for what comes next, Z follows you, for she is in love as well.

You had felt so much for Z. You imagined what it would be like if you could just kiss her once and for all, and confess your love to her. Oh, but how would she react? What would she say? Why would you ever expect her to like you back in the first place...

But tonight was the military ball. A night you and her could dance together, and you could tell her how you feel. If she didn't reciprocate, you could ignore it and dance the night away with your friends. But if she did, oh what you two would do together.

You wore your favorite dress and heels, and did your hair up real nice for her. You wanted to impress her so bad. You wanted her to like you, though you knew it was wrong. You were coworkers, you couldn't possibly keep it professional with the relationship you craved. Little did you know Zdog felt the same. She craved the same attention from you that you did her.

"Girl, you're looking good!" Walker said. She was your best friend, and your ex-lover. You ended the relationship because the both of you had lost the spark you once had. You still loved each other as friends, though, so you two kept it tight.

"Oh, thank you! This as close as I could get to when I was a teen. All the boys -- and girls -- wanted me. I only dated very specific people to piss off very specific people. My friends on earth still tell me I'm smokin', but I don't believe them." You replied. "Y/N, I've seen photos from your old yearbooks, and oh my god, you were hot. You still are! I bet Zdog will fall so in love with you."

"WHAT?"

"I know about your crush on her. Honestly I can understand. I think she'll love your outfit. But I think she'll love you more." Lyle replied. You were shocked how he knew, but you weren't THAT surprised. Lyle was the type to somehow know everything and know nothing.

"Well, isn't that reassuring." You said, adjusting the straps on your heels. Someone knocked on the door.

"Hey, lovebirds! Time for the ball!" Mansk yelled. "Shut it, I was just TALKING to her, nothing more." Lyle said, opening the door. Mansk was dressed in a nice black suit and nice black shoes.

"Okay, Jesus. The rest are all waiting. I think Y/N should enter the ball last. She looks the best, in my opinion." Mansk commented. "Hey, lay off her, man. She might be single but she's my friend."

"Come on, let's go. We're gonna be late." Mansk said. "Okay, let's go, Y/N."

"Okay!"

-At the ball-

I was talking with my girlfriends when Zdog walked up to me. "Hey, ladies. What're you guys up to?" She said, sipping her champagne. She was wearing a nice suit, so beautiful on her, it was like I was looking at an angel.

"Oh, just girly gossip. Talking about boys... and girls." Your friend said. "What kinda girls we talkin? Hot? Not?" Z asked, chuckling. "Oh they're hot, alright. Very. Hot." Your friend commented.

-11.50 PM-

"Z, can I talk to you outside?" You asked. Tonight was the night you planned to confess your love for her.

"Yeah, of course. Guys, I'll see you later." She said, setting her drink down.

Inside a gazebo was where you two settled. "I need to tell you, and I hope this doesn't change anything between us."

"Hon, just say it."

"I LOVE YOU. Okay? I love you." you said. You grabbed her and pulled her in for a kiss. When she didn't return, you sighed and ran. Into the forest, where Mo'at would be. You could turn to her for help. How could you ever return to her after what just happened?

"Y/N, wait!" She ran after you? You stopped at a river, sitting with your head in your hands.

She sat next to you and put her arm around you. "Y/N... I love you too. Like... a lot. I've had a crush on you ever since we met."

"Really?" You asked, looking at her.

"Yes."

OMG MWAH hope you guys liked it!!! took me a long time since some keys aren't working.

@dyingofcookies

#zdinarsk

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ducknotinarow · 6 months

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Continued from here | @starsandsavages

It's funny how scary three little words could be to say, but at the same time? Raphael needed to voice it. He hadn't the idea of fessing up after feeling how he had been. Leo made his choice in the end clearly and it wasn't going to be Raphael. But was Raph meant to do with all his feelings for Leo? Was he meant to just drop all of it and forget about it all? Forget how long he thought about kissing Leo? How much he still thought about kissing Leo ever after getting to kiss Leo.

It hurt. It hurt so damn much at that. Like a sharp twisting pain in his shell. He would take his shell getting cracked over this.. Given the chance, so thats why he was here now talking to Leo finally make it all clear. It was real for him he was in love with Leo. But it was fine they didn't feel the same. Even with Leo speaking as he was to him.

Raphael pulled his hand away from his brothers hold and looked away from them "I didn' tell ya to get ya pitty Leo." Raphael huffs a little trying his best to not expose just how much he was hurting over the whole situation.

"I ain't tellin' ya for anything 'ike that, or ta change ya mind even I get it okay? I literally had you on my bed and you jus' couldn't clock in on how I felt?!" He tones rises a little, as he tries his best to swallow and hold back his temper. "I get it okay you were with me and even then still thought about her uh?" He flickers his gaze at Leo hoping somehow that's not the case before he drops it once again. "But ya know whatever" Was it just whatever though? Not to Raphael it wasn't. He hated this everything about it, he hated feeling so stupid. Raph truly was just an idiot wasn't he?

"I'm tellin' ya cause..what else am I meant ta do? Jus' stop feelin' how I do? Well I can' Leo and trust me I tried!" He suddenly snaps with squeezing his eyes tightly shut. "I can' stop thinkin' bout how it felt to kiss you. I can' forget how cute I find you, how I love when ya laugh or smile. How I think it's kind cute when you get fidgety and nervous. Or how cool you can be when you get all leader 'ike." Raphael rambles as he confesses. "I can' jus' turn off how I feel! So don' sit there and act like ya can do the same about her. I ain't gonna be the what safe option cause ya know I like you at least?"

Moving to get up pissed now at Leo. "Ya been hung up on her and ya jus' takin' pity on me that fuckin' low Leo." And maybe wrong but he was just lashing out to protect his own feelings if anything.

#muse| hamato raphael #starsandsavages #[ Sorry I don't treat you like you're perfect ♥︎starsandsavages]#[mayhem verse]#ic rpely #[closed]#stay queued

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morfanerina · 8 months

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Watched the Last Voyage of the Demeter, slept on it and I'm still severely disappointed by it, both as a horror and as an adaptation.

Actually especially disappointed as an adaptation, they had what? 6 paragraphs to follow and all the freedom in the world and managed to screw what little constraints they had?

Rant with Spoilers below:

So, I don't have anything to say about the beginning. Wonderful views, everyone was appropriately spooked by the symbol, we have a child on board and the first mate was finding new crew members. Three of them, on of which ends up being our POV character.

Cool so far though isn't that ship far too big for a crew of only 10 (including the captain)? It's faithfull but, ya know.

And then we get Anna. Now Anna was in one of the boxes of dirt to be fed on by Dracula as a snack until the boat reached high water wherein Dracula would feed on the crew. That didn't work because that box opened up and the crew discovered Anna was on board, sick. To save her our heroic doctor does some blood transfusions. With his own blood. Daily (?). Pretty sure he would get woozy but Sure why Not.

This brings conflict with the crew since many of them are supersticious or just feel she is too much of a stoaway. It doesn't matter as her function in story is:

A: conflict bringer

B: exposition about the monster

C: i think we are supposed to assume the doctor and her have romantic feelings for each other at the end?

Also she has badass scenes and brings heart as a victim and willingly sacrifices herself by burning at the sunlight #girlboss

Oh yeah. Them burning in sunlight is bitten and turning into a mindless slave. If you haven't read Dracula, this will be: yeah makes sense. If you have, I hope you are pissed off by this change. And also by the change that religious symbols such as crosses do not affect Dracula.

I guess that's why Anna says that somehow Dracula has no one to feed from in her country. He must have eaten them all (directly contradicted by the fact she is a literal sacrifice to him) because it certainly weren't the crosses and so on to defend themselves that did it.

With this let's go to what this change actually implies in story. See, the characters actually eventually disciver where Dracula sleeps, the specific box even (it was literally the more embellished box.

Yeah.). And they know he only attacks at night and have literally seen on of their crew dying in flames implying Dracula would stay during the day in the box.

So they plan to ambush him at night and not use the knowledge of that box ever. Even Jonathan in the book whacked the vampire in the face while he was sleeping.

I will cut the ranting a bit to now talk about the end.

First: the doctor survives. This is stupid especially as the last scene is he looking super cool while promising himself he would end the blight of Dracula, hunting and finishing him himself.... which won't happen as we literally have how the story goes and he is not at all involved.

Second: master of disguise Dracula doesn't have a human face. Yeah, I was expecting to see his human face but no, it's just the design they created with fancy clothes. Are you joking.

Speaking of jokes Olgaren got possessed and I literally turned to my friend who has read Dracula and said: Mina Harker would never. And it's true, biting doesn't mean turning into vampire unless that person dies and... something. Dying is an important step however.

I'll finish by talking on how disappointing the horror aspect was. There was no actual psychological horror, Dracula played with the religious crewmember sailing away once and the rest he was a beast. It was basically jump scares and gore.

All in all: you could have done so many things, so much freedom and you did this? Truly disappointed.

#the last voyage of the demeter #review #i guess #rant #movie rant

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troglobite · 1 year

Text

lksjdflkdjf

she legitimately hurt my feelings when she said "that's unusual" and then condescendingly changed her explanation to be so over the top as to be more confusing.

but if i tell her that, she'll probably just get angry and defensive.

idk what's wrong w her.

but it's really fucking hurtful and frustrating that i know Something Is Wrong if i appear to somehow be pissing her off at every turn

even tonight watching tv, i'm just really tired bc i'm on my period (and also i cried for literally my entire therapy session today so i'm not doing great)

and i was fine pausing or rewinding or telling her what ppl were saying--bc there were no captions and it was taskmaster and she's notoriously bad w accents, and sometimes even i can't catch whatever it was they said.

but she didn't understand one task, so i tried to explain

she didn't indicate that she didn't understand

i was confused abt which part she wasn't understanding, bc she wasn't entirely wrong

then she said something abt it again, but it didn't clarify whether she understood or not, just a statement abt the task, so i paused to explain, and she got upset with me.

she cut me off.

and i'm just like.

i'm. trying.

idk what to do.

and i know she's pre-angry abt everything bc she told me to text her when i wake up tomorrow bc she "has a lot of chores to do"

which implies they'll be loud

which implies they'll be difficult

and she hurt her knee last night and felt sick tonight

but she

hasn't told me what the fuck the chores are

hasn't asked me to help with them

she automatically assumed i won't help

but when i offer or ask to help w things, she turns me down

and then when she's angry w me and i'm feeling particularly bad or can't do something, she lashes out at me.

this. isn't constant. it's just recurring.

and i'm. feeling. like, really fucking fragile rn.

so i'm just tired.

i'm just tired of always being a problem. of never being worth anything unless i can do something for other people. and even then sometimes i manage to step in it or be annoying or piss people off.

"it's about them, not you"

that's nice. even if/when it's true, it doesn't change the fact that i'm the one being hurt.

logically i know (bc i've had to learn on my own, i haven't actually been told this) that something is upsetting my mom or stressing her out, and that's why she's annoyed w me or snipping at me.

but that doesn't change the fact that she called her autistic kid unusual for needing something explained in a different way bc i was confused/it was unclear. and that she then deliberately made the instructions more unclear in a condescending fashion, to "prove" that i was being stupid. and then got mad at me when i kept pushing back and saying it's not unusual, all i needed was "face this direction" and i would understand, but "turn" is unclear.

like legitimately i'm doing so badly that i'm just thinking abt it again and i'm literally crying lol

idk what to do with any of that.

i feel like i can't do anything.

and i've felt like i was in trouble in therapy the last few weeks (i'm not, i asked her, bc she's someone i can just ask things like that) bc i'm. Stuck. and it feels like there's nothing or very little i can do, and what is available to me has a lot of really high barriers.

and i was doing my "shooting everything down" thing at her and i felt bad. and it was wild to hear her say "i understand why you are, bc those are high barriers and things are difficult"

and i'm still scared she's mad at me, even though she calmly told me she wasn't and just wants to help me not suffer as much, bc clearly i am. and then she asked me what i wanted, bc that's what she said she wanted for me.

even if she is actually frustrated or annoyed w me--bc legitimately, who wouldn't be? everyone i've ever met has become annoyed w me at some point, usually v quickly--she at least had enough professionalism and compassion to disguise it w legitimate things that were still probably mostly true.

as my mom has said my whole life, i just shoot things down and i never change or take any advice.

i'm just unusual and stubborn and selfish and annoying, of course.

meanwhile i don't think i've ever had a conversation w someone where i felt genuinely like myself.

and when i've almost tried, it's never ended well.

i'm just self-conscious bc like. she asks me a question in therapy and i just. ramble. i'm just. thinking out loud.

bc i just legitimately don't have any other space to do that thinking.

and when i'm doing it on here i'm already fucking spiraling. so idk how helpful it really is.

idk i'm just. feeling really fucking bad abt myself. and i don't have anything happening or coming up that's gonna help w that.

ashl/y g/vin's comedy special is on sunday. i hope it's as good as i think it'll be bc i really wanna laugh. (i censored her name so nobody searching for her on tumblr finds this fucking post)

i hate feeling useless bc being useful is all anybody ever likes abt me. and sometimes being funny.

like i know i'm on my period, my back/ribs still aren't better, my acid reflux tried to kill me two days ago, and my finch app is fucking broken and support hasn't gotten back to me and i haven't been able to use the app for three fucking days now--so i'm feeling More.

but i still just. feel this way.

and she hurt my feelings. she said something that hurt me. and she did it in such a casual way and nothing was really Wrong in that moment so it came out of nowhere and idk what to make of it and i'm tired of having to process this shit on my own while she doesn't process anything. i'm tired of having this resentment.

i'm tired of finding out how tight she is on money and knowing that that'll continue to be an excuse for us not seeing a counselor together.

i'm terrified that we won't move bc she doesn't want to

i'm upset bc she said last night something that meant she assumed i wouldn't help her w any aspects of the move

i'm upset bc i historically HATE moving and really struggle w it, so she might be right that my ability to help might be low

and i'm upset that she just. says things like that. to me. and then would get upset if i took offense or was also upset.

i'm upset bc she always insists she doesn't resent me or think these things abt me and then. she so clearly does. through her actions or things she says when she's mad.

i'm just fucking tired. i'm tired of not mattering. i'm tired of fighting to not get covid, to go to therapy, to try and keep myself busy, to try and rest and take it easy, and it all just being Bad or Useless. and that being my fault.

i'm tired of saying this shit on a post bc if i say it to someone, i'm throwing a huge load of this shit on them to deal with, taking up their time, and then they have to try and navigate a conversation w me, and there's a risk they say something that makes me feel worse or something.

i'm tired of just abt fucking everything.

and i'm really tired bc. i cannot leave this country. i can't escape. there is no hope for that. i have to fucking believe that being in the state i am will keep be relatively safe long enough to weather fascism, bc i can't immigrate. i can't be a refugee. and i can't work in any field legit enough to get me a visa. i can't go back to school. i can't do anything.

i'm literally stuck here no matter what.

and i just want to try and enjoy myself but every relationship feels like a minefield.

all of my anxieties and fears are just a burden on everyone around me.

i'm just a burden. and not one ppl enjoy or don't mind taking on.

and when i try to enjoy things, there's always someone within arms reach to make me feel bad abt the thing i enjoy, or not engage in the thing w me and like Aggressively Not Care abt it.

and sometimes ppl aren't just making me feel bad abt what i like bc they're mean, they're making me feel bad bc socially and politically it's Bad, even though it's just sort of. middle of the road. i get lumped in w ppl that they hate and get labeled annoying for liking the things i like.

there is, quite literally, nothing that i don't feel shame or embarrassment abt rn. or even just loneliness.

and if i try to enjoy these things w other ppl who DO enjoy them, i feel......less than. like i don't know enough. or i'm not good enough. or i have the wrong opinions. or i'm enthusiastic abt the wrong parts.

i'm just gonna fucking play animal crossing and try to metaphorically bash my face against a wall until i stop experiencing life as a real person.

asking me to try and find joy or things i can control is a one-way ticket to me spiraling out of fucking control.

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your-regina · 18 days

Text

Maybe hell is all I'll ever know

Hi there, it's been a week since I wrote the last page. You see, in times of turbulence things can change vastly from one day to another. As you may remember, one day I was hiding at my friend's house, the next day I was already home, then I was making plans to leave and suddenly I'm being bombarded with several reasons to stay.

Have you heard of the three signs rule? It basically says that whenever you're doing something you should only let up to 3 inconveniences stop you before taking the hint from the universe and giving up.

I personally believe everyone would fall into a loophole of not doing anything if they stuck that strongly to such a rule, but once you hear it it's certainly a bit hard ignore it.

Should we count the inconveniences that have gotten in my way?

I first brought this up to my aunt on march 29th, and it's currently april 6th and I'm still here for a few reasons.

First of all, I'm always quite shy, and asking someone to stay at their precious home is, quite frankly, something that makes me too anxious to say it as quickly as I should have.

Secondly, as soon as I told my aunt what the psychologist asked me to say, it was quite clear to me that she wasn't very happy to have me there, even if she said it was ok. She said herself, just some days ago, that "a dead body and a guest can only last three days before stinking". I don't forget things too easily and I have a very strong intuition, so I know when people are having issues with me right off the bat. I think my aunt is still mourning the loss of her spouse, and moreover she's enjoying the house all to herself. I try to reassure her that I won't stay forever and it's just more of a transition period more than anything, but I'm not sure what she's thinking. Maybe she's too nice to tell me that I can't stay, but I'm going to take this shaky 'yes' for the time being.

Anyway, the third thing that is making me hesitate is how annoying my mother is getting, just crying all day about this decision as if I wasn't talking about leaving this year for the past 4 years of my life. I guess she expected me to somehow forget my entire life's purpose. In any case, I'm just trying to get enough money to move out and finally start living the life I want, so I can't live on my own right now. But I certainly plan on doing so one day, hopefully sooner than later.

My mom says I had a psychotic break because I abused my meds too much, but I think there has to be something else to it, nothing is ever that simple, is it? I've thought that maybe I wasn't ready to feel life on my skin, too tender to handle it still. You know? I'm starting to feel a bit sleepy for the first time in days. I don't think I've slept for longer than 6 hours these days.

Still, tomorrow I'll go make some of my last purchases. I had hoped to turn this into a safe haven but nothing around me will ever feel safe. Is it really that hard to own something?

It seems to me that I always have to lose some part of me in exchange for the freedom I long for so much. I'm currently living in the dogs' room. Their space is so much bigger than mine too. The room doesn't have a door and the place I was given to sleep is a hammock which bumps into the corner of a desk every now and then. The place my aunt originally gave me was an extremely hard cot with no sheets to make it even the littlest bit more bearable. Maybe this is a soft but clear way of telling me to piss off. If I go, I'll just take a weight off her shoulders. I have something new and cute. I'll stay home and do what I'm told. Stop fighting back, it's all useless, there's no way out.

Maybe I'll just stay here forever, maybe I can make good money off the store if I handle it better. Maybe.

There's no peace in this world, no such thing as freedom or justice. It's all a dream, nothing is where it should be.

My eyelids feel cold

3 Clonazepam

3 Pregabalin

1 Risperidone

It hurts so much to admit it, but maybe I can only escape temporarily like this. Let me take care of the things that hurt me the most. I'll make a dream out of that place, I'll make it shine like the moon so I can go out with a bang, I'll bring heaven with me when I leave.

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mistwraiths · 2 years

Text

2.5 stars

I initially was very excited about this book. Your girl loves zombies and it boasted a blend of sci-fi and fantasy that we do not get enough of. However, the execution felt poor enough to take away from my enjoyment of the really unique take on zombies.

The fact that the zombie plague starts off from a curse, has its own prophecy, and has varying degrees of infection including a way to become immune. Like how COOL is that concept?? The red eyes, the purple, the yellow. The fact that humanity is fully capable of being the Worst™️ and purposefully allowing people to PAY for immunity? I love it? The zombies having stages of being aware and intelligent and then going mad after an unknown amount of time? Fascinating! And they have a Queen and are FUNCTIONING in a way with goals?? Tell me more!!!

Unchosen has so many interesting things within it so the biggest tragedy is that the book really doesn't FOCUS on any of these really cool concepts it has. The book kind of quickly dumps all this information early on in a chapter and then moves on from that. You find out things more because the main character falls into them not because they are explored in any capacity. For a book about the zombie apocalypse and Chosen Ones and sisters, this book doesn't explore any themes at all. No thoughts here, just shallow plot and shallow characters.

I think I could have liked this book if it focused on ANYTHING else. We've got human smuggling (smuggling people who aren't infected to Vessels or those paying for immortality), those who free people from the smugglers, the curse and the Chosen one and the prophecy! Instead, for the majority of the book we get to focus on Charlotte and her whining back and forth between a) I'm in love with my sister's boyfriend/my best friend and they don't know and b) my sisters are so special and cool and I'm nothing.

I don't like the sister in love with her sister's boyfriend thing. It grosses me out. Any man who dates my sister a) better thank his lucky stars and b) loses -100 points and becomes gross. So, I can't really understand it. Especially since my sister doesn't have to say anything for me to pick up on most things. I can tell when she's happy, sad, pissed, etc. I know without her saying anything when she likes something and someone. And I don't consider us CLOSE either so I don't understand when siblings don't know these kinds of things?

Despite having two sisters, Harlow basically the most bad ass commander somehow despite her being nineteen or whatever, and Vanessa, the Chosen One who was reborn in the ocean and has been STAMPED by the curse, they really aren't in the book that much. Charlotte protects Vanessa's secret by saying she's the Chosen One and it goes from there.

Charlotte was an annoying character and her personality honestly seems to change half the time. She keeps wanting to DO things even though she freezes or has never done anything before. Makes rash and sudden decisions and assumptions based on nothing but heresay despite things in front of her clearly not adding up.

I was glad that she finally liked someone else only because I didn't want her to end up with Dean. Dean is the main driving force of the book because he was captured and she loves him so she's gotta save him. Since this book is first person, we don't get to really get to know anyone else so Seth, Lucia, Rielle, Thomas, and Dean all feel PAPER THIN. I kept switching up Lucia and Rielle. And the girls other than Charlotte were so similar to Harlow and Vanessa. No one seemed multifaceted at ALL. The romance?? Boring.

The ending felt super rushed. Surprise, the only functioning good guys turn out to be bad guys. Surprise, Seth's dead twin who is said to be the best person ever is the Vessel Queen. Surprise, because people are terrible they're going to engineer a way to take away someone's immunity to reinfect them and get rid of the people who don't deserve to live. (This would be interesting if again explored more)

Some of these things I predicted super early. The Vessel QUEEN. The good guys being bad. Even the Chosen One doesn't save the world, it's Charlotte's faith in the dream cryptic words her sister says and she had written down and that she FOLLOWS that saves the world. That last bit I could have been okay with!

I would have been okay with the Unchosen one saving the world because someone had to do it and she's there. I could respect that. But NOOOOOOOO. This book really had to ruin that too? Charlotte had to choose to be the Chosen One by the ghost. I mean her sister was technically the Chosen One but now there can be two??? That doesn't make any sense. It just made me roll my eyes hard.

The last thing I didn't like was that this book REALLY had to kill one of the lesbian characters we get to meet. There's literally two. OUT OF ALL THE HETEROSEXUAL COUPLES THAT LIVE THROUGH THIS BOOK, THE LESBIANS DON'T???? Also now that I'm thinking about it, I think one of the only other characters that die is a black character. There's little death in a book with zombies but the only characters who die with some presence on the page is the black character and one of the lesbians? Fuck right off.

There's just so many things that could have been REALLY good but alas, we got this hot mess instead. I'm genuinely flabbergasted it has a high rating because I don't think it deserves it.

#unchosen #katharyn blair #steph's book review #steph reads

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jamieedlund · 2 years

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Aaravos made Callum too hot for everyone but Rayla has to be like the "My boyfriend and his very tall and sparkly master" but Callum is holding the worm instead cause Aaravos lets him cling to it during the night.

(skip to TLDR if reading isn't your passion🙏🙏🙏)

I feel like I wouldn't touch on Callum and Rayla's relationship because I'm one of the people who strongly feel that there isn't any chemistry in their romance. I will say this though, because the way I'm writing this basically kicked off after season 3- The reason why Callum and Aaravos, in ANY POSSIBLE WAY can become close is because he did not find solace in the discrimination that the elven mages(and maybe most of the elves too tbh like c'mon do you really believe discrimination can be erased in a span of months??) treats him even after he helped protected the baby dragon;

Possibly also the fact that in the book Rayla left him to find her parents. Which he probably would not blame her, but that does contribute to the overwhelming possibility that after meeting Aaravos, Callum's opinion as well as his interest in the people he knew would change. (and not to mention the fact that because everyone hates Aaravos so much, they have to be on the run)

(sketch from a planned piece I wanted to post on valentine but never finished, Cally wanted to buy a thing for his master because they only have each other while the entire world is hunting them down)

And to be honest Aaravos is more interesting and beautiful than anyone he has ever met, not to mention all the preachy garbage people has been feeding him about how "dark magic" is bad and his master is somehow "a fate worse than death" but in reality it's more complicated than that. Would he not have loathed if not a little pissed that the world, especially i feel that Rayla will too, treated the man he adores like some sorta plague?

It should be noted that I intend their love for each other to be not quite friends but not quite family either, but non of them wants to force the other to do anything they don't want and I will leave it at that.

Callum was robbed of most of his personality in the show, I feel deeply that he would not be willing to continue a normal boring life as well as a relationship where his partner does NOT understand him, at ALL. When he talks about magic, she doesn't have a clue. She doesn't like his jokes (to be fair he doesn't find her joke funny either), she does not get him and always calls him weird, in a bad way. All of these are canon btw. TLDR In conclusion...Callum probably doesn't see himself as too hot or too attractive, but if he had acknowledged Aaravos as his master, he would have had a change of perspective, maybe SEVERAL CHANGES of perspectives... therefore a normal life and his teenage romantic relationship will probably seems unappealing to him.

You can disagree! This is just how I intended for their characters to turn out in the way I'm writing them. But in the end of the day, yes. he would hug the caterpillar to sleep...when he did not know that was also his master--- Callum is very aware of his master's beauty, yknow like a normal teenager... He's probably shy 👉👈

I actually did this concept a long time ago wheezes

laughs in he probably did the little pet talk with the caterpillar unknowingly before he sleeps---like you're so adowable! i wuv you so much etc--- and who's a good little squishy---- idek how do people talk to their cats....

#ask jamie #sorry for the long post #I have a lot of big feelings regarding to callum's romance #it's #it's not that great---#but no hates if you like it!#it's just not for me #long post #rambling #tdp #aaravos #callum #my art #wip #sorry for the ugly doots #about their relationship #etc #the dragon prince

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willowser · 3 years

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and yes, now i'm here with you and i would like to think that you would stick around—

dabi x reader

wc: 11k+

warnings: 18+, explicit language, angst, dabi is really bad at feelings, referenced sexual content, referenced alcohol and substance use, dabi is just a bully, reader has a quirk

< <; < part one | HOME PAGE

The first thing you need to know about Dabi, not Touya, is that he isn't your friend.

Okay, so yeah, you know he's alive. Doesn’t mean he’s gonna pop in and out of your apartment, joining you for dinner or bringing you flowers or something equally as humiliating. Not that you ever say anything about it, but he knows you want him to come around more, can tell by the little frown on your face whenever he insists he has to leave. The towel in your linen closet practically has his name on it, the couch always made up with a suspicious amount of pillows and a casual throw blanket (which is embarrassing—you couldn’t be more obvious). It makes him uncomfortable, seriously.

That's why he’s been such a good little boy and hasn’t come around that often (doesn’t even follow you anymore), maybe has stopped by when seeing you was an itch he just had to scratch. Dabi can count the number of times he’s knocked on your front door on one, scarred hand of his because it’s awkward now, you knowing his death was a ruse. Those beady little eyes of yours, always fixed on him, running over the ridges of his face like you were cementing the sight of him to the inside of your lids, like you were trying to peek through the gaps in his skin.

Gross.

It’s been six weeks since he’d seen you last, in the dark of your apartment as you moved around, cleaning up the mess he’d made. Sometime after 3:23 in the morning, he’d conveniently showed up, just as you were microwaving food you ended up offering him (even if it had been for yourself), and he’d fallen asleep in the middle of the painfully uninteresting recount of your shift. With his mouth all open, drool dripping down the side of his lips, head thrown back against the couch—the simple sound of you must have woken him up only a handful of minutes later. The lights had been turned off, that blanket over his lap, and you were in the kitchen, washing out his cup and plugging your laptop into its charger.

It had been a little nostalgic, him getting to watch you through lidded eyes, without you knowing.

When the light from your bathroom flashed in the hallway, just before the lavender smell of your body wash overwhelmed the entire place, he’d finally slipped away. Nearly busted his ass jumping out the window.

The second thing you need to understand about Dabi, not Touya, is that he’s a big fucking liar.

And if you keep asking him stupid questions, (where do you live? what do you do for a living? are you busy tomorrow? how’s your mom doing? ), he’s gonna get real fucking mad, and he’s gonna keep lying. For some reason, you don’t seem to believe he’s a door-to-door vacuum salesman—fuck knows why you can’t buy that—or that his mom changed her name and moved out of the country, works as a prostitute in Germany.

“That’s the last I heard of her, swear.”

The look you’d given him had been laughable, the deadpan expression on your little sunshine face. “I’m serious.”

Yeah, he knows, you always are. But, get this smarty-pants, he ain’t gonna fucking tell you, so stop asking.

The only questions you don’t ask him are the important ones, the ones he can tell you really wanna know, and that pisses him off even more somehow. Come on, sweetheart, just fucking ask already, why do you look like that now? why aren’t you a hero, like you wanted to be? since when did you become such a fucking asshole? That look in your eyes, the one you always fix him with, must be disgust or something, because it makes his rugged, burnt flesh crawl.

Sometimes you sit across from him at your kitchen table, as he tries not to devour the leftovers in your fridge like the starved animal he is, and tell him all about the stupid shit he already knows. Your brainless friends, why you work at the hospital, how many classes you’re taking online in the spring, what your favorite movies are—Dabi just grunts in response like this is all news to him and, if he’s feeling really soft, he’ll even ask a few pointed questions to keep you rambling.

“We should go to the cinema together, on my next day off.” With your chin in your palm, you’d said it under the dim light of your kitchen, smiling a little when he started choking. Water sloshed out of your glass when you slid it to him.

“Sounds great, doll, I’ll make sure to wear my Sunday best.”

“I’m serious—tsk, Dabi.” The free hand, the one not holding your head, reached across the table to slap lightly at his unmarked skin when he’d made a face and mocked you. “You don’t wanna go out with me?”

Whatever way you’d meant it, why you phrased it like that, and the little puppy dog look in your eyes: it all made him just start choking again. Stupid questions, all the damn time—which is why he needs you to understand he’s not your friend, which is why he can’t keep coming around your apartment. Awkward. Gross.

Don’t imply shit like that.

Another thing you need to know about DabiNotTouya, is that he’s not going to talk about it. In fact, don’t even bring up that day in the motel. As far as he’s concerned, it never happened. The little scar on your head has always been there, he would know.

Now he really wishes you’d give the sweatshirt back, though, because the first time he’d come to your apartment after the whole ordeal, you’d opened the door with messy hair and it draped over your body. What the fuck you were thinking, answering the door in such tiny shorts, is totally beyond him, but everytime he thinks about you rolling around in your bed, the fabric of his clothes rubbing against your tits, it gives him a really unfortunate boner.

It had that day, also, which is why he'd slipped out your bathroom window after starting the shower, leaving that fucking towel on your sink. Embarrassing, the reactions of the male body (because it didn't really have anything to do with you in particular—men get hard all the time).

There is still a little knot on your head, one that probably won’t ever go away, and—apparently—another blow to your brains like that could be instantly fatal. Dabi doesn’t really care, honestly, because if you get whacked in the middle of the night again, you deserve it—for walking home so late. If he had any money, he’d probably buy you a pink, sparkly little helmet just to rub it in your face. Maybe even dress you in some elbow pads, shin guards, give you some idiot-proof armor.

But then you might think the two of you are friends, so it’s a good thing he doesn’t have a cent to his name.

It’s been six weeks since he’d seen you last, since the smell of lavender made him shudder and ache, and he knows by now that you’ve seen the broadcast.

For some goddamn, stupid, motherfucking reason, you keep trying to get in contact with him—on his burner phone. Of all those movies you chatter about, none of them must be crime documentaries or gang related, because you call him by his stupid name in the fleeting little texts you send him, probably have Touya with little emojis saved to your contact list. Three times he’s screened a call from you—once in the middle of the day, another early in the morning (probably after you finished your shift), and the last, right before he’d started fucking celebrating.

By the time he realizes that it really is you, standing near the bar of the club he’s been in, almost 48 hours have passed since he’d hit ‘ignore’. Dabi has no idea how much alcohol he’s downed at this point, no idea what substances are making his bloodstream fucking sing, so when he thinks he sees your little sunshine face looking at him, he just assumes it’s an illusion.

(Here’s something Dabi doesn’t want you to know: sometimes he thinks about you. In the dead of night, when he showers, in the middle of conversations with Spinner—he thinks about what you must be doing at that exact moment. Somewhere, out there in the city, scrunching up your nose because you’re frustrated or smiling so wide because you’re laughing, doing your damndest to be a hero at work, sweating with all your effort. Thinking about him in return, wondering what he’s doing, worrying about it. Smiling and getting all hot, thinking about his hands on your body under that shitty water.)

(That last part is bullshit; you don’t remember anything from that day, had told him as much, just that the motel room seemed familiar and that’s why you’d shown up there after the hospital. Because something about it promised the sight of a kid you used to know, one from your class.)

There is a tight, little cat girl on his lap and she has been for hours, blowing smoke in his mouth, whispering filthy shit in his ear, but he’s been thinking about you—again—and pretending it’s your fingers popping the button on his jeans. It’s been relatively easy; the club is packed and so fucking loud, even though his head is pounding, he can close his eyes and pretend anything he wants.

That the blaring noise reverberating in his skull is just sounds from the movie on the screen, that the theater is empty—just the two of you sitting in it, somewhere at the back—and the weight on his lap is from you. You must be a little kinky, licking the hoop in his ear like that, and you giggle when his hips jerk as you slide your hand down the front of his pants. It’s so fucking hot, to be with you like this in an empty movie theater, because he’s wanted it for what feels like a goddamn eternity and now he can drop the act and sigh your name as you—

“What?”

The cat girl keeps purring, even keeps her tail wrapped around his leg when she pulls back to look down at him. It’s clear the name has been lost to her, because she doesn’t look pissed, just confused—as if she genuinely didn’t understand what he said—which only kills the new high he’d been chasing. Dabi is drunk as shit and he can feel his dick go limp under her hand, just as the rush of disappointment and reality rise up in him like a stomachache.

He can still see your face though, as if it’s watching on a couple feet from him, but all the sunshine has set on it. There isn’t a pout on your lips, but they’re open just a bit, brows furrowed and, oh fuck, your eyes. There is no puppy dog look in them, not even the kind you send him in the quiet of your apartment—they’re just wide and big and sad. Like you’re the one with the gaps in your skin, like they’ve been ripped open.

It makes his body cold all at once (which is fucking weird), this feeling like he’s a piece of shit boyfriend that’s ghosted the woman of his dreams for days, and now she’s caught him with a cat girl on his lap. As if she’s been trying to get ahold of him after the demons of his past had been revealed to the entire world—probably because she genuinely cares or something—and she’s even gone so far as to track him down in the dingiest of places. And she’s looking at him like she’s put her heart on a platter and given it to him, just for her ugly motherfucker, sorry goddamn excuse of a boyfriend to throw it on the ground and stomp it to bits, because he doesn’t know how to do anything but ruin.

The woman of his dreams knows she doesn’t deserve that shit, which is why she turns on her heel and begins to leave.

“Gettha’ fuck off’a me.”

By the time he manages to get to his feet, the girl is on the floor and hissing at him, but Dabi doesn’t care, because he’s busy doing what he’s always done—chasing you down, too many steps behind. Every one he takes is unsteady and he’s blinking rapidly with how hard he’s trying to focus, on the sight of your yellow dress, on the shine of your hair in the neon lights, of the curl of your little fist. It seems like all the substances in his system surge in his bloodstream, come up his throat (and go back down, as he stops and leans against someone so he can swallow), and nauseate him with every body he pushes through.

It all gets drowned out, though, by the anger he’s inherited from the man he despises most in this world—when someone grabs you by the arm and halts you in your tracks.

Of course it’s some big fucking guy, a tree trunk of a man that could crunch you in his fingers if he wanted to, pick his teeth with your bones.

(Look, Dabi totally has an eight pack—and he could show you, if you don’t believe him—but he’s not even half as wide as Enji. Fucking Natsuo has broader shoulders than him, and every muscle in Touya’s body is lean, probably a little malnourished. He’s never come across a fight that required his fists alone and that, coupled with the fact that you’re standing in the middle of a crowded club, when he can’t decide which vision of you is the real one, makes for a big fucking problem.)

Something comes out of his mouth, something completely unintelligible, but it’s lost along the music as he tries to close the distance between the two of you. Just as he starts to shout something again, you completely stun him; that fist uncurls, flattens out into a firm palm, and it slaps across the face of the man grabbing onto you. It actually gives Dabi a bit of a chub, makes him smirk as he sways back into the body behind him and mutters something that sounds like “fuck yeah”.

But then you’re getting backhanded into the floor and Dabi is launching his wiry body through the air before red finishes settling in front of his eyes.

If the two of you will ever stop getting into situations like this, when your precious, stupid little life is on the line, he doesn’t know—but he sure as fuck would like to. This is different than the time in the alley, because he’s the one on the ground, getting the shit knocked out of him, but he’s batshit insane anyway, so he just laughs the whole time. It’s like armor, this sick craziness he can wield, and though it’s dented and broken and dull, it still makes that tree fucker look nervous. Somehow he manages to get the upper hand once, manages to maneuver his lithe body on top of the guy, but then he realizes you’re screaming his name and grabbing for him.

It stuns him again, when his elbow rockets back and hits you square in the nose, when he watches with wide eyes as tears well up in yours, as blood starts spurting down over your lips.

And then staples are coming loose in his face as knuckles crack across his cheek.

Maybe you already know this about Dabi and Touya, maybe you don’t: sometimes, that fire of his burns so hot, it makes his skin peel away from his bones. The burning pain and sting of it all is starting, welling up in him like an ugly vice when he’s finally had enough of this little game, but then something pricks in his neck and it’s like a bucket of water has been dumped over him.

The flames die out in his hand so fast, it makes his head spin, and Dabi somehow manages a breath before he looks back at you, before a cold panic sobers him up when he sees the club owner with a gun pointed at your chest. It almost makes him piss himself, but a little tack just comes out the end of the barrel and he watches your lips form around an 'ow’ before you tug it out of your skin. A loud groan of relief is released from his mouth at the realization you haven’t been shot to death before his eyes and it even makes him forget about the fight, until a heavy hand is twisting in his hair and his feet are dragging across the dance floor.

The quiet night air almost hurts his ears with its silence, the cold nips at his sweaty face as the concrete rushes up to meet him. More staples come loose with the bust of his head against the ground and he can’t tell what on him is blood or perspiration, maybe some of it is even alcohol or his vomit. It makes him think of how disgusting you’d been in that motel room, almost makes him laugh at the irony of it all—how the two of you always end up like this. The night sky is empty, much plainer than the walls of the club had been, but that somehow just hurts his head as a myriad of colors and shapes swirl in his vision.

The only thing he’s sure of is your face leaning over his, that the look in your eye isn’t as sad as it once had been. It’s a good thing he’s already on the ground, because it might have knocked him to his knees, and he says something questionable that only makes you shake your head.

“Touya,” When you sigh, a bead of blood drips from your nose, down your chin, and onto his lips.

The trek back to you apartment is fucking awful and damn near impossible.

At one point in time, during his youth, Touya had been shorter than you. Not by a lot, but it didn’t matter, it was just as embarrassing, and there is some kind of juvenile glee he gets now that his frame is towering over yours (even if he's still not as tall as his younger brother). Despite the blow to his skull and the fear you were gonna get blasted to Hell, there is still so much crap swimming in his head, he doesn’t care that the two of you are touching; your arm is wrapped around his thin waist, his is draped over your shoulders as you help him stumble down the sidewalk.

Blood is staining your little dress, turning the white flowers red, but you hug him close regardless. Sometimes he steps too wide or unsteady and it takes all your effort to keep the two of you upright, him on the inside of the sidewalk, away from the streetlamps, and it makes him laugh as you grunt his name.

Out there, in the night, it feels like the two of you are the only ones in the world, like the only ones in a dark theater. Something warm spreads in his chest at that thought, that maybe this is even romantic, but then he just starts sputtering out a cackle again because holy fuck, is that embarrassing.

Dabi doesn’t even realize you’ve stopped and are standing a little in the street, that his mouth is against your hair as he mutters, “I’m tall, huh?”

“Yes, Dabi, you are tall.” You sound a little annoyed with him, but it doesn’t bother him as much as it should. At least not for the moment.

When you raise your hand a little and wave it around, he thinks you’re trying to get his attention and he grunts at you, slouching down further, breathing in the smell of your shampoo, and it’s only then that he realizes a car is pulling up in front of the two of you. Dabi whips his head back so fast, his stomach lurches.

“Come on, get in.”

“What’re ya’ doing?”

With a huff, you try to usher him into the cab. “I can’t carry you all the way home.”

“’m not gettin’ in that fucking thing.”

The driver swivels around in his seat, glancing between the two of you, probably wondering what the hold up is. Even drunker than shit, Dabi wants to ask what the fuck you’re thinking, if you’re even thinking at all, as he instinctively tries to slink back into the dark. That feisty hand of yours latches onto his at lightning speed to stop him.

This is something he thought you already knew about him, that he can’t just go waltzing around in public, as if his face hadn’t been blasted all over the television, as if he wasn't a known and wanted criminal. There are a lot of choice words forming on his tongue, ones that he wants to say because he knows they’ll hurt your feelings, but you’re already slipping in the leather seats, tugging him hard enough that he nearly hits his head on the roof of the car.

The minute you can, you buckle his seatbelt and give the driver your address, even lean all up against him as his entire body goes rigid.

“Relax,” You try to tell him, but he absolutely does not do that.

First of all, Dabi hates seeing the streetlights pass him by like that, especially with his head reeling, and it makes him feel sicker than he already does. Yellow and black, yellow and black, yellow and black, lights and then darkness; it’s a damn nightmare for his headache. Second of all, why the hell are you so cramped up on him, anyway? Blocking him in, shoving your shoulder against his chest, trapping him like the cab is speeding to the hospital, so you can check his crazy ass into the nut house.

Fucking traitor.

For a brief moment, he looks down at your face, tries to read the tired sheen in your eyes, watches the gentle way you dab at your nose, to see if he can find any truth to this theory. There is a small bead of sweat at your temple and his eyes narrow at it suspiciously. If his heart wasn't beating out of his chest at the fear of being in a public cab, a lot of accusations would start flying, but if he opens his mouth, vomit will probably come out and get all in your fucking hair. If he needs to use that to distract you so he can escape in the near future, then he better hold onto his guts.

The glare he's sending you must be burning a hole in the side of your face, because you angle it up at him, get even more in his personal space, blow your minty breath on his lips as you ask him if he's alright.

And then things start spinning again, start making him feel warm like before. As if the darkness of this backseat and the flash of the streetlights are all just scenes in the movie, the ambiance in the theater, and the two of you are the only ones that exist. Only two tickets got sold for the showing of this crap—something girly and cheesy, something about a witch and her broomstick and a cat—and the whole room is dark enough that you can’t see the burns on his skin, the gaps in his face.

Dabi is such a fucking pussy, so he slurs something like, "oh, shit," as you stare at him like that.

But then the cab driver flips around in his seat with a surprised gasp and you’re shoving yourself even further into him, pressing the back of your head into his face and holding up your hands.

“Please keep driving.”

All Touya smells is lavender, all he feels is the warmth of your back against his chest. It’s too warm. When he shifts his head, the tip of his nose bumps against the shell of your ear and he thinks about you in that shower again. The copper of your breath, the faraway look in your eyes. How easily you'd let him hold you like that, even looking like he does, even after so much time. For some crazy reason, the muscles in Dabi's hands twitch and his fingers tighten on the fabric of your ruined dress.

“I know what you’re thinking, but please keep driving and I’ll pay you extra not to say anything to anyone.”

You stay like that for the remainder of the ride, only looking back at his face once, nose brushing against his as you check his eyes to make sure he’s alright—and the whole action sends his stomach into his fucking throat. One of your hands pats his, the one fisted in your dress, and your fingers even run over his knuckles softly, in a way that makes him want to lean his head back and pass out in this cab.

Or die. The plushy, sick softness of it all makes him want to just fucking die.

Another thing: Dabi can only do this like this, if you're wondering at all. Can only be quiet like this, can only touch you like this, when he can't feel your eyes on his face. If you're not looking at him, maybe you don't know. Maybe it's like before, when he could sit in the dark of your bedroom and count your quiet breaths as you slept, when he could close his eyes and pretend that it would be normal for him to crawl in with you, if he wanted to.

When you fish a (probably) outrageous amount of money out of your purse and toss it to the driver, he just keeps his head down, partially in shame, because his anger had come and gone so fast after you'd just looked at him, and partially because his neck is fucking tired. After you push him out of the cab does he realize the two of you are not in front of your apartment building, that you lied about your address just in case.

The walk up the block is a little less painful and Dabi doesn’t let you touch his hands this time, just wobbles around on his own.

It takes longer than it should for him to get up the stairs; every time he starts to fall, a reflexive laugh comes out of him as he throws his arms in the air, and you have to plant your feet into the ground, push your back up against his in order to further him along.

On the second floor landing, you say the line, you say, “Dabi, I’m serious,” when he pushes back against you, which only expels an exaggerated, exasperated groan from his throat, and then he lets you lean him against the wall while you unlock your front door. The couch isn’t made up and that surprises him, almost makes him a little mad, makes him instantly come to the conclusion you’d had company over, but he slumps down on it all the same. He starts to make a half-hearted inquiry about who you fucked on the cushions he’s sitting on when he realizes you’re not even next to him, that you’re piddling around in your kitchen. The absence of you gives him a small bit of reprieve and he tries to get himself the fuck together.

“Are you hot?”

When he opens his eyes—that he hadn’t realized he’d closed—you are holding an ice pack against his forehead, using some of the wetness to wipe at the blood there. There are two dried, crimson rings around your nostrils and a small, budding bruise right at your cupid’s bow, one that is just a little indigo in the shitty light of your apartment. The skin of his jaw is rough and he’s so caught up in looking at your swollen lip that he doesn’t realize you’re touching him there, doesn’t register the pressure of your fingers right away, but he smacks your hand away when he finally does.

“‘m fine, don’t touch me.”

The look you send him is surprisingly irritated and, now that the stillness of your apartment is shrouding him in peace, he can feel the laxity in his cheek when he grins. The staples are still in his face, just stretched out too far, so he tries to dig his fingers into his mouth to pinch them back together, but you stop him.

“Your hands are dirty!” You cry, like a little bit of bacteria is gonna kill him.

Get this, smarty-pants, a lot of things have tried to kill him, it ain’t gonna be some germs that take him out.

"Don' touch me."

With a sigh, the ice pack drops to your lap, eyes traveling over his face in that too-studious way you always do. Dabi has this urge, to grab the loose part of his cheek and pull at it so you can see his skin stretch, see all his ugliness up close, but the look in your big, Bambi eyes tells him you can already see it, without even trying. Your tongue comes out to lightly run over the puffiness of your lip, which grabs his attention (and you totally do that shit on purpose), and the absence of the ice on his forehead makes him realize just how hot he's running, like the heat is on in your apartment or something.

"You mad at me?" He doesn't know why he asks, maybe because some part of him thinks it's funny—he's seen your face for 11 years and none of your weak anger has ever been directed at him—and because some part of him really wants to know. If it's this easy to get under your skin, then you're in for a rough ride, princess.

Almost instantly, you open your mouth and start shaking your head, but, after a moment of looking at him, you close it and sigh—as if you actually might be. It makes him sputter out a silent laugh.

"No, Touya, I'm not mad at you." Is what you say, and it's so soft and distracting that he doesn't care when you put that ice pack on his forehead again. “I just—” It looks like you’re sad, ashamed even, the way you stare down at the couch cushions. “I wish I knew, that—I just wonder if there was something I could have said or done to—”

The broadcast, him, you’re talking about him; Dabi is drunker than shit, but it’s still sitting at the forefront of his mind, that fucking hilarious look on Enji’s face, how Shouto’s voice had gone hoarse from yelling so hard. All the dirty laundry in the Todoroki family, aired out for the world—you included—to see.

Whatever the hell you’re trying to say pisses him off.

“My bad,” Dabi rolls his eyes and knocks your hand away again, because you apparently don’t know anything about personal space. “Sorry I didn’t stop during our games of pretend to tell you my dad was a total fuckstick.”

The ice pack goes to your lip as you slump into the couch, looking defeated (which is funny), and you bring it away from your mouth two times like you’ve got some kind of rebuttal, but it just ends with a shake of your head. When you look at him again, Dabi realizes you’ve seen him without a shirt on, over the television, which is what he’d wanted, but you’re looking at his neck and his ears and his hands, and you must be envisioning what you saw then, wherever you were when it came across the screen.

“Say something,” he mutters, feeling perspiration drip down the back of his neck, “don’t just stare at me all stupid like that.”

A flat, unamused look flashes over your face just before you shift your body completely in his direction, laying your head on the couch to look straight at him. It makes his lips curl, especially the little smile on your annoying face. “Do you remember that game of tag we used to play? When I would touch you—”

And Touya would have to stand stone still, wherever he was, only could start moving freely again—out of your Mind Freeze—if he successfully completed a dare of your choice (and they were all stupid: "do a cartwheel” or “hang upside down in the tree” or “run three times around the playground”). If he caught up to you during the game, touched your arm or leg, you were forbidden from using it for one full round, because it was “burned”.

Embarrassing.

“No.” His eyes are on the hole in his jeans, the small one right above his knee. “I don’t ‘member any’a that shit.”

“Hmm,” There is a smile on your face, he can tell without even looking at you, because you’re always so fucking obvious. “I remember—always winning, of course.”

It’s bait and he’s not that stupid. Nice try, smarty-pants.

“Doesn’t really sound like the you I ‘member.” Dabi risks a glance out of the corner of his eye, sees the lump on your lip darkening a bit, sees the way your cheek squishes against your hand when you tuck it between your face and the couch. “Couldn’t even use your quirk without losing your guts.”

The small kick against his shin isn’t accidental.

When you shift a little closer to him, he sits back, further into the cushions. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing you don’t remember, then.” You make a teasing sound as you stick your tongue out at him.

The long-sleeve he’s wearing is sticking to him, clinging to the textured skin of his back. Sweat drips down behind his ears and it’s not from the ice pack—which has melted down to water—like he had originally thought. It’s fucking burning up in this apartment of yours, what the fuck? If he closes his eyes, he can almost envision it’s crawling all over his skin, that blue fire, peeling back all the layers of his stapled face.

It’s almost like you’re waiting to see it, looking at him like that. Like you’re waiting to see what hides in all the ugliness, in the meat of his muscles and the char of his bones.

“You know,”

Maybe if Dabi didn’t feel like he was melting into a puddle of human goo, he would feel a bit cold as you start saying this soft bullshit.

“You were the first boy I ever had a crush on.”

A sick fucking freak, that’s what you are. Waiting on his reaction, trying to dissect the way sweat is drenching him, watching every breath he tries to pant out. It must be why you’ve got the heat on—it must be—trying to trap him and force him to come out of his skin, to see all the hatred that’s kept him burning all these years. What you want with it, what you want him to say to that, he has no clue.

It’s like you’re using that loser, piece of crap quirk of yours, digging your fingers into the staples just to pull them out, just to see him unfurl into pieces.

Dabi feels hot, like really hot. Hot like he does when his skin burns, hot like he had hugging Shouto, hot like he had at Sekoto. Hot like he had under that tree.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” You sigh, finally turning your face away to close your eyes, furrowing your eyebrows as you run your tongue over that swollen bruise on your lip again. “I lit incense for you, too, at the grave.” The words come out a little stuttered, a little different, like you’re the embarrassed one. “One thing I realized about death is that—well, of course it’s never easy, it always hurts, but there’s something about being a kid and—and one day your friend just stops showing up to play.”

There is a faraway look on your face, staring absentmindedly at the television, as if you’re remembering. The little version of you he’d known comes to his mind, the one he tagged, the one he kissed (or kissed him, really), and he tries to imagine you on the playground alone.

It’s never been something he’s thought about, never something he had the luxury of thinking about. A few weeks had passed before he screwed his head back on right, before he found you again, and you must have figured it out by then.

Maybe if Dabi cared about anything other than himself, maybe if he could cry, his eyes would be a little swollen right about now.

“At school, they never told us, you know, no one. Even after the paper came out, even after we asked about it, no one would say anything. It was—” One of your hands goes into your hair and you tug at it, like the memory still stresses you out or something. “—frustrating. And the entire time, we’re all just waiting, stuck as kids no one listens to, just trying to find out what happened to our friend and if—”

To his absolute horror, your voice cracks.

“I just wanted to know if you were coming back.”

Out of the corner of his eye—because he’s sure as fuck not going to look at you—he can see you wipe your tears, hears you sniff up a bunch of snot. The spot beneath his palm on the couch has gone dark with his sweat, he can feel what’s gathered in the collar of his shirt. If he still dyed his hair, it would be running down his face, the way your mascara is.

“It had a monumental impact on my life, being young and losing you like it.”

There’s one last thing you need to understand about Touya. If you peeled back the layers of his skin, took all his staples out, dug through all the ugliness—

“It still does have a monumental impact on me, you did in the alleyway that day. You do now.”

—there’d be a little version of you, standing under a tree, blood on your lips.

It’s buried so far in there, in the tendons and hot blood of him, you’ll probably be stuck there forever. Not even his own hands could dig it out, no matter how hard he tries, or has tried. It’s a curse, a terrible, sweaty sickness. A chink in the crazy armor he thought he’d forged.

It’s his only weakness, the only thing that could ruin him. Maybe it already has.

There’s a question simmering on his tongue, one he’s always had, and Dabi can feel himself fucking losing it, so he tries to cling onto the only emotion that makes sense. “Then how did you find out?”

When you swivel your head to finally look at him, you see the mess he’s melted into and sit up in a hurry. “Touya, you’re—I think you should get in the shower.”

Before you can spring to your feet, he’s beaten you. Fists clenched, the answer he already knows, all the emotions he’s tried to bury—all thrumming in him like the headache behind his eyes. “How did you find out what happened?”

“We can have this conversation later, after you cool off.” You step toward him and he steps back, until he’s slipping against the wall. “Take your shirt off, it’s soaked, Touya, we—”

This time, when you reach for him, he grabs your hands in his and squeezes, wants to turn your fingers to ash under his palms with how pissed off you’re making him. Rage is twisting his face the way it always does, the way he hadn’t wanted you to see once. “Answer my fucking question. Now.”

“I asked Enji.” It’s obvious that you’re saying the wrong thing, he can see the way awkward regret is blooming on your face (there’s a bitter part of him that is giddy about that—welcome to his world, where saying the wrong thing is only natural). “They wouldn’t tell us what happened, I had no choice! I cared about you, I deserved to—”

“You’re crazy!” Dabi shoves you—hard, because you fucking deserve it—and his hands fly to his damp hair. “What the hell is wrong with you? Asking him? Why the fuck would you do that?” The tone of his voice is hysterical, almost two octaves higher than it usually is, and panic makes you sweat. Another wave of heat rolls over him and almost makes him heave.

“You were my friend, Touya, what else was I supposed—”

“Fuck! You’re nothing but’a huge problem for me, you know that?”

Everything Dabi has ever needed to be, everything he has the chance to be, comes crashing down at the simplest bat of your stupid fucking eyelashes, and it’s finally driven him insane.

Did that mean Enji knew? Or Shouto?

Only days ago, when he’d shown them the man he’d become—how heartless and bitter, how strong and unbreakable—did they watch on with that stupid look, knowing what had happened underneath that tree? Did they know the fucking weakling, the fucking coward, he had once been in your mere prescence?

Wrapped around your stupid finger, turning red and dreaming about you at night, imagining himself—fuck—imagining all the things the two of you would be when you were older.

Rei had to keep popping out kids for a man that forced her into a fake, bullshit marriage; Touya didn’t know what love was, wouldn’t know it if it slapped him in his stupid, chubby face, but there was something he had felt at school, when he saw a girl, when she played tag and talked about their future as heroes—there was something that felt real good about that.

It was distracting, you were (still fucking are), and the last thing he needed during all his training was a damn girl to steal his mind to other possibilities, to other futures—but you had regardless.

And Enji wasn’t supposed to know. Not then, not now, not ever.

“We weren’t friends! We were never friends, I—I hated your annoying ass.”

Finally, he hurts your stupid feelings; your nostrils flare and another flat look tries to shine over the sadness in your eyes. “You don’t need to talk to me like this.”

“Fuck, you were pathetic!” The laugh he lets out is all Dabi, all crazy and furious and fire. “I should have killed you, just like I wanted to!”

“Touya, stop.”

Dabi takes a step towards you, another one when you back up from him, and grabs the front of your shirt. Any minute now, it’s going to burst into flames and maybe, if he’s lucky, you’ll fuck out of his life forever. “I wanted to dig your eyes out with a spoon while your parents were sleeping. I wanted you to scream and cry and—”

“No, you didn’t.”

“—while you asked me why, why, why me? so I could finally tell you how much I hated you.”

It only infuriates him more, the look on your face, which isn’t as scared as he wants it to be. Which isn’t really scared at all.

“I daydreamed about it every day, I fucking jacked it to the thought of your dead, rotting body laying six feet—”

“I’ve been inside your head.” Your hands come to wrap around his, which prompts him to yank them back. “In the alleyway, trying to find out who you were. I know, Touya, I know that you’re lying, so please,” with a sigh, you squeeze your eyes shut, “stop talking to me like that.”

Every part of you is sick and soft and quiet, from the look on your pinched face to the shaking hands that reach for him again, and Dabi realizes it is something he has never known. What does all of it even mean, anyway? The tone of your laugh when he makes an ugly face at you, when he mocks the stupid questions you ask, when he rolls his eyes at your fucking implications. All of you, every last piece of you, has always been a mystery to him, one he wasn’t able to leave unsolved.

When he yells at you like this, you’re supposed to turn away and you are supposed to cry. When he raises his hands to strike you, to burn you into fucking nothing, you are supposed to be afraid, you are supposed to fear the scorch of his flames against your skin, the ones that will turn you into him. When he ignores your calls and doesn’t come around as often as you want him to, you are supposed to get it. You are supposed to know you’ve been replaced—by a cat girl, one that is more talented than you, one that fucks better—and he is supposed to turn away and forget you existed.

But none of that ever seems to fucking happen.

“What?” His voice has gone hoarse, “You don’t know anything.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Though he’s the one with the fist raised, though he’s the one with sweat slicking his hair to his neck, though he’s the one that’s put that bruise on your lip, an apology is evident in every word you speak. “I just wanted to know who you were, I didn’t mean to see it all.”

The only response he gives you is the thunderous beat of his heart in his chest, the wide-eyed look on his ugly mug.

“I wanted to tell you and talk to you about it, but you come around so rarely and you never answer when I—” You shake your head, “I’m not blaming you, I’m sorry. But then everything happened and—” In the black screen of the television, he sees how trapped he looks when you gesture to it. How small he looks. How Touya-like he looks. “—and I just never got the chance to, before now.”

Every thought he’s ever had about you makes him sway on his feet. Every lustful thought, every remembrance of the jokes you’d told him as kids, of the games you played, of the looks you’d given him. Every horrible thought he’s ever had about you—sincere and in an attempt to stuff his feelings back down his throat. All the wanting he’d ever done, for the future, for the past, for now. It’s all laying out in front of him, between the space on the carpet between the two of you. Like he’d vomited it all up. Like you’d peeled back the layers of his skin and dug it all out of him.

“You’re full of shit.”

“No, Touya, I’m—” Frustration flashes over your face again and you rub at the crease between your eyebrows, dab at your nose, tongue the bruise on your lip. “I would never lie to you, I need you to know that.”

“Yes you are,” Pressing himself further into the wall behind him, he whispers, “Yes, you are lying. I know you are.”

“What makes you think I’m lying about this?”

“In the alleyway, that wasn’t the first time you’ve ever put your fingers inside my brain.” The first time he’d met you, at that fucking private school, when you told him about your quirk, he hadn’t believed you. Some kind of mind game bullshit? How was that fair? A nobody-girl, one that wasn’t even from a prominent family, like Touya was, would rise through the ranks as a Pro in no time flat, with an OP quirk like that.

When he asked you to tell him what he was thinking, to prove it, you’d gone quiet, flinched a little, and told him that the burns on his shoulders were hurting him. It was the first day he’d met you, wearing a school uniform, one that covered him up in a way that hid it all—from his teacher, from Enji, from a nobody, smarty-pants girls like you; there was no way for you to know that kinda shit.

Whatever he wants to say next doesn’t come out, not even when he opens his mouth and gasps like a dying, stinking fish. Maybe if Dabi could cry, he would be.

If you could read his mind in half a second, in the alleyway, to know, then how did you not know then? In the classroom, peeking inside his mind, knowing about the burns and somehow not knowing about it all. About Enji. About the Hell he was living.

It all seems to dawn on you, all your petty, stupid fucking lies, and you take a step forward. “I didn’t know back then because I didn’t know how to use it yet. I—I still don’t! Because I can’t, Touya!”

“It doesn’t make sense, no matter what you say. Because you’re lying.”

“If I had known what you were going through, don’t you think I would have—” For some reason, you start crying, like you’re the victim here. Like you’re the one with the gaps in your skin and the burns on your body and the hate in your stomach. Like you’re the one that fucking lost it. “I didn’t know how to use my quirk back then, in order to see more than what you were thinking. I cared about you, I still do! If I had known—”

“Shut up!” Dabi raises his hands, curls them in the way he does when he wants to burn everything around him. He grabs you then and he doesn’t care about the gentle way you’re touching him, doesn’t care about the hands on his or the breath on his face when he drags you closer. “You’re a liar!”

“You’re burning up, you have to calm down!” Still, you aren’t scared of him, just trying to wipe the sweat pooling all over his face and neck. Pleading and crying, just like he wants, but the worry dancing in your eyes isn’t for yourself.

“I’m going to kill you, right now!”

You can’t know. You can’t know all the things he’s thought about you. You can’t know him like that because no one does, not even Dabi knows all the things about Touya like that.

“If you don’t calm down, you’re going to roast yourself alive, Touya, you’re overheating!”

“Right now, I’m going to do it! Just like I’ve always wanted!” He’s going to shove his thumbs in your eyes, he’s going to snap your pretty little neck, he’s gonna cut you up—just like you’ve done to him. Hands on your jaw, fingers cradling your face: he’s ready.

Any minute now.

Any second, he’s going to finally do it.

They’ll close that movie theater down. No one will ever go there again. It will all be reduced to ashes.

“Touya, please.”

Any moment now. He can do it, no problem. Absolutely no problem.

But your fingers cradle his face, and then you push them up his nose and in his ears and everything gets cool, just for a little while. Just enough that he can finally lean his head back against the couch you’ve made up for him, just enough so that he can finally sleep.

The first thing Dabi knows when he wakes up is that he’s in your bed (it takes him a long time to figure this out—what with the migraine and sour taste in his mouth and all that), and he knows this because the mattress is way too soft to be his, there are too many pillows all around him, and your smell is invading every piece of him.

The second thing he knows is that he’s wearing the sweater again—and that you must have put it on him, which means you’d seen—and then that the sheets are a little damp from all the towel-wrapped bags of ice near his neck, his hands, his thighs. It all comes painfully flashing back to him, the night before, and it’s a testament to how tired he is—seriously—because he doesn’t really do anything, just lays there like a dead, stinking fish.

There are two piles of sheets balled up on your floor, stained with blood, stained with (what is obviously) his vomit, and he can faintly hear your washer banging across the apartment. For a minute, he wonders if this is how you felt, laying for 30 minutes in that bathtub—somehow alive, but feeling like death—fading in and out from the world around you, thoughts coming and going like the breeze from the ceiling fan above him.

Today, whatever time it is (late afternoon, maybe?), Touya is too exhausted to put up the act.

It’s embarrassing, the way he wraps his arms over his face and breathes you in, the soft little groan he lets out when the smell of lavender subdues his headache for a moment. His tight jeans are still on, though they’ve been unbuttoned, zipper down, and—with all the wiggling he’d done in his sleep—they’ve come down uncomfortably around his ass. It takes a long time before he moves his arms, before he pulls them back on right and rolls out of bed.

The idea of you makes his stomach hurt, so he doesn’t go there just yet.

Peeking out of your room, there is no sign of anyone else in the apartment, and Touya quickly pads across the hall and into your bathroom, leans against the door when he closes it and holds his breath, just in case you’re gonna pop out somewhere.

It’s hard to meet himself in the mirror, always is.

Somehow, the burns under his eyes look worse, darker, and two of the staples in his cheek are more crooked than usual. Part of his hair is flattened against his head and the other parts are wild, a little crimped and folded, and running a hand through it all doesn’t do a fucking thing, which makes him snort. It’s strangely domestic, the rugged sight of him in your bathroom, wearing a sweater that was originally his, that he’d seen on you, that you’d put back on him.

The bristles on your toothbrush are stained pink, but he brushes the sour taste of puke out of his mouth anyway—no, he’s not gonna tell you about that.

When there’s nothing left to do but face you, Touya wonders what else you’ve seen in this crazy head of his. In between the time since you’d read his mind in the alleyway and last night, he’d worried about you, thought about the future the two of you were supposed to have. He’s wanted you, and a date at the cinema, jacked off to the thought of your tits under his sweater (and a bunch of other things, honestly), cursed himself for being such an asshole by ignoring you, and hated you. Every part of you he couldn’t understand, every part of you he wanted to.

That laptop of yours is open, the headset around your neck as something dull and boring drones on quietly, and you look at him for a long time before hitting your spacebar, before taking off the headphones and standing up to approach him.

The bruise on your lip has fully settled and it’s ugly.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” You’re whispering, which is nice for his headache. When he shrugs, you turn back to the table and grab a piece of buttered toast from your plate, the piece that isn’t bitten, and offer it to him.

And he’s too tired to fight, so he just takes it and moves around you, away from the way you’re looking at him—soft, like fucking always—and slumps down on your couch. It’s been made up, with the blanket and the pillows; you must have slept on it last night.

The toast crunches real loud, gets crumbs all over him that he swipes onto the carpet, and some are clinging to your cheek when you eventually come to sit beside him. Dabi thinks it’s too close, Touya thinks it’s too far away, and all three of you just stare at the empty television screen. Out of the corner of his eye, you’re opening and closing your mouth, sighing quietly, and it almost makes him laugh, it would if it didn’t require so much effort.

Then the apologies start.

“I’m sorry for knocking you out like that.” All the words are still whispered. “I don’t know if you remember,”—he does—“but they shot us with suppressants, at the bar, and you were overheating.”

Suppressants. That Yakuza fuck.

It makes you sound real small and sad, with your Bambi eyes and sunset face. “I was afraid you were gonna cook yourself alive, so I—”

“‘s’fine.” Touya grunts, and you just nod in response.

“I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about it earlier, I should have made time to find you.” The huff you let out is a little bitter, too harsh for someone like you. “I did it just fine yesterday, I should have tried harder before then.”

None of this really means anything to him, so he shifts a little bit—cringes—and looks at you. “How did you find that place?”

“You’ve been there before,” Even though it’s all out in the open, you seem shy about admitting it, which is real fucking hilarious. “It’s the second place I looked.”

The image of you, in that yellow dress, wandering down streets and sidewalks, looking in the places he hangs around, makes him want to throw up. What the fuck are you thinking? Another blow to the head will kill you, stupid, so why are you walking around like a ripe little peach, around people that would love to take a bite?

(There is a small, uncaged part of him that feels warm about it, that makes Touya feel like he did at school with you; the idea that you had searched high and low, slapped guys that grabbed you, tried to talk to him about his embarrassing fucking feelings—it all makes you seem like a mystery again.)

You’re quiet after that, thoughts flashing over your face as you lightly touch the bruise on your lip, and it pisses him off suddenly. All of his memories and daydreams, all of his fears and wants and desires, all of his plans and secrets have all been strewn out before him like a disemboweled pig, and you get to sit quietly with all your own feelings.

“Tell me what you’re thinking. Now.” When you raise your eyebrows at him, his face scrunches up like that of a child, like it probably did back then. “I deserve to know.”

Because you’re an annoying little goody-goody, you just shrug.

“I think that’s fair.” You shift to face him, the way you had last night. “I��m thinking that I’m still worried about you overheating. I’m thinking that I’m tired, that I’m upset with myself.” A frown pulls on your lips. “I’m thinking that...you’re going to leave, and I’m worried you won’t come back this time.”

Not in some you’re-gonna-die-out-there kinda way, but in some you’ll-never-talk-to-me-again kinda way. It’s as plain as day on your face and he, Dabi, thinks it’s good that you feel that way, that you should. Because he, Dabi, shouldn’t ever speak to you again because he’s been compromised, he’s been found out. All the secret inside shit you aren’t supposed to know has come to the surface—in fact, you dived into that water to find it yourself—and, by the rules of the street, he shouldn’t come around you again. He should kill you, actually, to prevent anything from happening to him or his mission.

“I’m thinking that I regret not trying to find you sooner, when we were kids. I maybe could have done it, I don’t know,” You shrug again and it becomes obvious how tired you are. It must have been a long night, for the both of you, after you’d finally shut him up. “But I’m also thinking there is no use regretting, because it won’t change the past. I’m thinking that,” Bambi eyes, big and worried and sad and gentle. “I just have to keep trying, for the future.”

For once, he doesn’t know what to say. Or think. Or do.

Because nobody has ever tried for him, for Touya, not like you have.

A little chuckle comes out of you, brings his eyes back to your face, and he’s surprised to find it a little shy. “I’m also thinking that it’s a little silly for me to be sad, because I should have known there were other women in your life, after all this time.”

And that confuses the hell out of him, makes him roll his eyes and shake his head—painfully—as he tries to figure out what the fuck you’re talking about.

“What?” It’s absurd, really, this idea that he’s the kinda guy worried about other women, that he’s the kinda guy that has a multitude of them stored in his back fucking pocket or something. Toga? He wouldn’t call her a woman, more like a noisy little brat that could go to Hell, for all he cared. “What other women?”

The smile on your face wavers, like you want to drop it into a frown, but you hold it steady. “I don’t know, just, whoever. Like the one from last night.”

Are you kidding?

Your stupid ass quirk has reached into the recesses of his mind and broken open that seal, spilled his guts all over the floor of your apartment and cleaned it up with your sheets, and you still think—

“The cat girl? I don’t even—I couldn’t tell you her name if my life depended on it.”

“Oh,” The laugh you let out is a little surprised, but your face still looks pinched and upset. “I don’t—uh—I don’t know if that’s better or worse, actually.”

“There are no 'other women', smarty-pants.” Touya scoffs and leans closer to you, sneers in your face so you fucking get the point. “Use that brain of yours, Miss College Classes, there ain’t no one else, just—”

When he cuts himself off, you raise your eyebrows, lean closer to him in response—which sends him back to the other end of the couch. “Just?”

This is so stupid, makes him cross his arms in annoyance as a wave of embarrassment heats up his whole body. “If you wanna know so damn bad, just read my mind again. You seem to have a real affinity for that!”

“Touya,” You chide, “I’m serious. Just—?”

Here’s one last thing to know: he isn’t going to say it. Absolutely not. If you wanna cough up blood and dig through the gaps of him to find out, be his fucking guest, but he is not going to say it. Not even if you scoot closer, not even if you put your hand on his—not even if he lets you—and certainly, not even if you run your tongue over that bruise on your lip.

You do that shit on purpose and he knows it.

“Get out of my face.”

But you don’t.

It makes his head crane back, the way your minty breath hits his lips again, the way your nose nudges his like it had in the cab, and—even though any and all thoughts from last night are painful—it has the same fucking effect. Everything about you is soft and touchy, your fingers over his cheekbone, your eyes watching him, your lips on his.

Touya hasn’t ever done anything softly, doesn’t even know how to, but he tries. Because he’s too exhausted to put up the act anymore, too eager for this to finally happen, too distracted to care about the gaps in his skin. He tries because he’s been ready to cross this boundary with you for a long time, too long, maybe because the two of you did that day in the motel. Touya tries for you because you’re the only one that tries for him.

When he pushes his lips back in response, a little breath comes out of your nose and fans across his face, makes him stop pulling his head away from you so he can move his chapped lips against yours, so he can nip lightly at your bottom lip and so he can dig one of his hands into your hair. A little sigh of relief is exhaled between the two of you and he moves in closer, presses his lips a little harder, so he can lick into your mouth, the hand on the back of your neck pulling you into him. The metal in his tongue must surprise you, because a little sound squeaks out of you; it isn’t one of arousal or pleasure, but just the mere fact that your lips are slotted together, that you’re making little noises against him, finally gives him the energy to nearly push you back into the couch.

“Ow,” The word murmurs around his lips and he pulls back instantly, eyes wide and zero-ing in on the purple bruise marring your face.

It’s fucking hilarious; he’s finally getting the chance to kiss you, for the second time in his pitiful life, and—of course—your lips would be too tender for him, with the injury he gave you. Fucking great. So fucking funny, in retrospect.

If he backs out now, he might lose his wits and jump through your window again, so Touya just adjusts his head and presses another kiss into the corner of your mouth. It makes you laugh, how hard he tries not to smash into that bruise, and he keeps pressing his lips to yours, keeps licking into them, digging his fingers into your scalp, even as you say his name.

“What?” He grunts, finally pulling away from you when you laugh again. Your hands follow him, lay gently on his cheeks—and he lets you, even if it makes him sweat a little—and settle your forehead against his.

You press another soft kiss to him, just to be a fucking tease and pull back when he chases you. “No other women?”

“Does it look like I’m—”

“Touya!”

“No, damn it!” As annoyed as he’s trying to sound, one of his arms is wrapping around you, pulling you closer to him as one of yours goes behind his neck. It makes him a little tense, the unfamiliarity of it all, like you’re gonna dig your nails into him or choke him out when you get the chance. But your eyes are big and wide and shining with something that embarrasses him, shining the way they always do when you look at him.

And you better not fucking tell anyone about the little kiss he gives your bruise.

“Ain’t no one else but you.”

The smile you give him makes him pull back his head, or he tries to, but you keep your forehead against his, and give his nose a little kiss in return. It makes him groan—in embarrassment and not because he likes it—so he presses another kiss against your lips, lets it get a little passionate and heavy, hands running from your back to your thighs, from his hair to his chest, before he purposely nips at your lip again. All this cutesy shit makes him queasy, but it’s the first time he’s seen you really smile since he’d been in your apartment, since before last night, since six weeks ago, when you let him fall asleep on your couch.

And for some reason, you look just about as happy touching him.

“You aren’t gonna leave and never come back?” Even through all the sugary sweet kissing, he can hear the concern in your voice, can feel the heat from the burn in your eyes against his own.

It makes him laugh, actually; get this, smarty-pants, he tried that shit for 11 years. It didn’t work then and it sure as Hell isn’t gonna work now, not when he’s touched you like this, not when you’ve seen the inside of his skin the way you have.

And, come on, you should know better than to ask a stupid question like that.

452 notes · View notes

lostinthewiind · 3 years

Text

Piss Off Your Parents - Part 5

Ukai Keishin - Haikyuu

Synopsis: freshly turned 18, you want to prove to your parents that you aren’t a child for them to push around anymore. First, get a job at the local corner store. Second, use the store owner’s 26-year-old son with piercings and a cigarette addiction to piss your parents off. Third, accidentally fall in love.

Rating: PG13

Warnings: arguing with parents, stereotyping?, reader's parents just being generally horrible people, angst

Song → 18 by Anarbor

Previous → Part 4

Next → Part 6

"This is a horrible idea," you whispered to yourself as you got ready in your bedroom mirror, unable to concentrate for more than five minutes without a small panic attack taking over.

Your eyes flicked over to your clock every few seconds. Keishin was due to arrive at your family house for dinner in about thirty minutes and with every minute that passed, you asked yourself over and over again why you ever agreed to this.

Originally, when your parents had insisted on meeting your 'boyfriend' over a family dinner, your heart had dropped into the pit of your stomach; it was the worst feeling you had ever experienced . . . until you told Keishin about it jokingly and he actually agreed. Never before had you felt so sick to your stomach. Dinner was the last thing you wanted, and to make it worse, it was going to be dinner with your parents and fake boyfriend.

Shit.

More than once you had contemplated pretending to be sick or throwing yourself down the stairs, but you just couldn't go through with it. Every time you got close to backing out, a small part of your brain reminded you that this dinner might be the thing that changed your parents mind, and even though the odds of that actually happening were close to none, you couldn't give up without even trying.

So, with knots in your stomach and your palms sweating like never before, you continued getting ready for the evening and prayed that everything went as smoothly as possible.

If only you had known then that it would take much more than a prayer to save this evening.

When you heard the doorbell ring approximately thirty minutes later, your whole body froze and the thought of jumping out your second story window was starting to sound really appealing. But then, you remembered that it would be way worse if your mom or dad answered the door before you could so you rushed out of your room and down the stairs.

"I've got the door!" you shouted throughout the house, almost as if you were marking the front door as your territory and trying to scare anyone else away from it.

Standing in front of the door, you drew in a few deep, calming breaths before plastering a forced smile across your face and pulling the door open. Let the night of hell begin.

As soon as your eyes settled on Keishin, your smile faltered and you gasped. His dyed blonde hair was slicked back like usual, but instead of a headband, it was clear he had used gel. He had every hole in his ear stuffed with a black earring, and to top things off, he had showed up in jeans, a black t-shirt, and a leather jacket.

"What?" Keishin took a step back and examined his outfit. "You said to go all out. I did."

"I know, I know . . . I just . . ." You took a moment to compose yourself. "I didn't even know you owned a leather jacket."

"Yeah, well, you don't know everything about me," Keishin smirked devilishly, proud that he still had a few secrets to himself. "Well, are you going to let me in? I kind of want to get this dinner over with."

Opening the door wider, you stepped to the side and let Keishin inside your house. "You and me both," you agreed. "You sure you want to do this? We could both make a run for it right now if we act fast."

Shrugging the jacket off of his shoulders, Keishin shook his head. "Come on, at least give your parents a chance to change their minds."

Just then, your father's heavy footsteps could be heard exiting the kitchen and approaching the front door where you and Keishin stood together. Swallowing hard, you wiped the sweat from your palms on your clothes and sent one last pleading thought up to the heavens above, hoping that if there was a great being up there, they could be on your side tonight.

This was it. No turning back now.

"If your boyfriend has arrived, Y/N, please don't keep your mother and I waiting. Introduce us." Your father rounded the corner, stopping in his tracks when he set eyes on Keishin. Sure, you had told your parents all about your 'boyfriend', which was why they had insisted on this dinner in the first place, but Keishin was a man that words couldn't quite capture. "Oh. Hello." Your father reluctantly held out his hand to greet Keishin.

"Hello, sir." Keishin shook your father's hand without hesitation. "I'm Ukai Keishin. Keishin is fine though."

Seconds later, your mother joined the three of you. She had a similar reaction as your father had and was not subtle about it in the least. "So this is the man you've been seeing?" Your mother gave you an almost pleading look, like she was silently begging you to come clean and admit that you were joking.

Right off of the bat, things were not going well.

"Well, let me take your jacket and hang it up in the closet." Your mother stepped toward Keishin with the fakest smile you had ever seen on her face.

"Oh, there's no need." Keishin hung his jacket on the banister of the stairs. "I'll just end up taking it out in a little while anyway when I go out for a smoke. It's easier this way, but thank you."

You watched your mother's eye twitch and the smile she had forced threaten to crack. "You smoke?" You could tell that both of your parents were on the brink of snapping right then and there, but they had promised to actually get to know Keishin, and despite all the horrible things your parents did, breaking promises was not one of them.

"I do." Keishin grinned. "I know, I know, it's not good for me. Y/N tells me to quit all the time so I'm trying."

You let out a nervous chuckle as both your parents turned to face you. "Shall we head into the living room?" You started ushering everyone into the other room, hoping to change the subject as quickly as possible.

"Yes, let's have a seat." Your father nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving Keishin, watching him like a hawk. "Can I get you anything to drink, Keishin?"

"Just a water is fine, thanks." Keishin had obviously decided not to push his luck too hard because you had been fully expecting him to ask for a beer.

With that, both your mother and father disappeared into the kitchen; your mother to finish dinner and your father to collect the drinks.

Taking the brief moment of reprieve to breathe, you looked up at Keishin. "I've never seen my parents struggle between their flawless hospitality and kicking someone out of their house so much in my life," you chuckled lightly.

"I'm a bit of a shock." Keishin placed his hand on your lower back and led you toward the couch. "I brought out all the stops in the beginning so they could have the whole night to get used to me."

"How kind of you." You sat down, slightly caught off guard when Keishin sat down right next to you and slung his arm over your shoulders. You were about to ask him what he was doing, but then you remembered that the two of you were supposed to be an actual couple and this is what couples did.

As soon as you felt his touch on you, however, your mind flashed back to that night in the park a few weeks ago. Since then, neither one of you had spoken about what had happened on that bench; a wordless agreement between the two of you that you would just move on and pretend it didn't happen.

But as much as you pretended to forget, you never actually could. The feeling of Keishin's hands on your sides and his warm breath on your lips kept you up at night. As much as you tried not to think of him like that, you just couldn't help yourself.

"You seem really nervous," Keishin leaned closer to you a whispered. "You okay?"

Snapping out of your thoughts, you nodded quickly. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just trying not to freak out is all."

"Hey." Keishin tilted your head toward him so he could look you in your eyes. "You're their daughter. No matter what happens, they will always love you. Remember that."

You flashed a smile. Somehow, Keishin knew exactly what to say to help you relax. "Yeah . . . thanks."

Just then, your father returned with two glasses of water in hand. Handing one each to you and Keishin, you didn't miss the way his gaze settled on the sight of Keishin's arm around you.

"Thank you." Keishin grabbed his glass right away and took a sip. You, on the other hand, let your glass sit on the coaster on the table. Despite how dry your mouth was, you didn't trust your shaky hands to pick up the glass.

"Dinner should be ready soon," your father said as he sat down in his armchair across from you and Keishin. "So, Keishin, tell me about yourself. What do you do for a living?"

"Well, currently, I spend most of my time coaching the boys' volleyball team at Karasuno high school," Keishin answered, his eyes lighting up a little when he spoke about the team he coached; you could tell he really enjoyed it. "And my family owns Sakanoshita Market and I work there sometimes."

"Sakanoshita Market," your father repeated. "That sounds familiar."

You rolled your eyes, not surprised in the slightest that your father had forgotten the name of the place you had been working at for the past few months. "That's where I work, Dad," you told him. "That's how Keishin and I met."

"I see." Your father eyed Keishin and you were surprised that Keishin didn't shrink under the cold, hard gaze like you usually did. "So do you go after all the young women who work at your family store or just my daughter?"

"Dad!" you gasped, unsure whether to tell him off or apologize to Keishin on behalf of your father.

"It's okay," Keishin told you calmly before answering your father's question. "Actually, the store hasn't seen a new employee in years. For the longest time, it was just my mother and me. We are both very grateful for all the hard work Y/N puts in to help us with the store. She is a wonderful employee."

You couldn't help the blush that tinted your cheeks at the compliment. "Thanks."

"No need to thank me. It's the truth," Keishin said before leaning in and pressing a quick kiss to your lips. "And good thing you took the job too, or else we would have never met."

Keishin then shot a sparkling grin your father's way, completely blinding him and distracting him from the shocked expression on your face. You knew you told Keishin to act like the two of you were really a couple, but you never expected him to play the part so thoroughly.

Your father opened his mouth to no doubt interrogate Keishin some more, but before he could, your mother began setting the table and announced that dinner was ready.

Moving over to the table, you took a seat across from Keishin while your parents sat at the ends of the table. As your mother brought the dishes of food over, you took the chance to drink some water and parch your dry throat.

The thought of having to keep this awkward conversation up gave you a headache, but thankfully, Keishin seemed to be handling everything quite well. Just as you had expected, he took everything with a grain of salt and refused to let your parents get under his skin.

You wished you were able to do that.

After the four of you bowed your heads and said thank you for the food, you dug in. At first, everyone was too busy eating to say anything. Somehow, the silence was worse than when your dad had been firing off questions rapid fire.

"This is delicious," Keishin was the first to speak. "Thank you again for inviting me for dinner."

"Yes, o-of course," your mother wavered a little but somehow managed to voice her fake pleasure nonetheless. "Y/N has never dated anyone before so we were curious as to what kind of . . . person . . . had caught her eye."

Keishin nodded, letting the not-so-subtle rude comment roll right off his back. "Well, here I am."

"Yes, here you are indeed," your father muttered under his breath. Thankfully, it didn't seem as though Keishin had heard it, but you certainly had. "So, you said you coach high school volleyball. Is this a long-term thing or?"

Keishin thought for a moment before shrugging. "I'm not sure, honestly. I do enjoy it but I've never given much thought as to if I want to do it long-term. I started coaching because of special circumstances and just haven't stopped yet."

"Well, plenty of people coach and teach," your mother said. "You seem to enjoy working with kids, so have you ever considered becoming a teacher?"

"That doesn't sound like the worst job, but that would require me to have a teaching degree, which I don't have," Keishin responded.

"What degree did you get in university?"

Keishin chuckled. "I didn't go to university."

Oh God. Your jaw dropped and you wished that a black hole could just open up underneath you and suck you in. Out of all the things your parents hated most, people who didn't go to university were at the top of the list. They always told you that 'people who didn't go to university had no interest in investing in their future.'

Hence why they always pushed so hard for you to go the university they wanted so you could study what they thought would be best for you.

You watched your mother's face go red as she reached for her glass of wine a take a particularly large sip. "Community college, then?" she squeaked out.

"Nope, afraid not," Keishin answered, completely unashamed and even proud. "I started working for the family store right after high school."

The looks on your parents' faces that they didn't even try to hide filled you with a deep sense of shame. You didn't know how they could be so blatantly rude to someone they barely knew . . . well, actually, you did know, and that was the worst part. As much as you wished you could deny it, you had thought the same things about Keishin when you had first met him.

Hanging your head in shame, you let the suffocating silence of the dining room take over.

Feeling something brush against your leg, you looked up to see Keishin smiling at you from across the table. 'It's okay' he mouthed to you. You thought back to the time Keishin had told you he was a big boy who could take a little verbal ribbing and exhaled through your nose sharply, your mood lifting ever-so-slightly.

Keishin brushed his foot against your leg a few more times to remind you that you weren't alone at this dinner before he attempted to restart the conversation. "So what do you two do for a living?" he asked, looking to your parents.

"We are both lawyers," your father said.

You nodded and sighed. "Hence why they want me to go to law school."

"Oh, honestly, Y/N, you say that like paying for you to go to law school is abuse." Your mother shook her head disapprovingly. "Do you know how many children would kill for the opportunities you have been given and yet you want to throw them away just like that? You should be grateful."

You were about to retort but stopped yourself before you did, knowing that it would only serve to start the same argument that you had lost over and over again. No matter what you said on the matter, your parents refused to try and see things from your perspective.

It never once occurred to them that you might actually not want to be a lawyer.

"Tell me, Keishin, if you had a child who you could pay for to go to law school and they told you they wanted to pursue their dream of playing soccer, what would you do?" Your father turned to Keishin, suddenly interested in what he had to say on the issue.

"Dad, let's not talk about that now," you spoke softly, hoping to get him to change the subject.

"No, no, let's hear what Keishin has to say." Your father insisted.

Keishin thought for a moment before answering. "Well, I think I would just want my child to be happy," he said, his eyes leaving your father to look at you. "I made the mistake of not following my dreams after high school and I regret it every day, so I would tell my child to follow their dreams and try my hardest to be there to support them."

You smiled wide, surprised by how emotional Keishin's words made you feel. For a moment, it was just you and him, and he was saying everything you had ever wanted to hear. All you ever wanted for was someone to be in your corner . . . someone to support you whether your choice was a mistake or not.

"Congratulations, Y/N, you've found a dreamer just like yourself," your father scoffed, breaking you out of your happy trance. "Too bad dreams don't pay the bills."

"Well, when your future is working at a family-run corner store, dreams are all you have," your mother cackled, not even trying to be quiet about it.

Your father laughed as well. "Too true, honey."

"Mom!" you shouted at her, your anger taking over before you even had the chance to think about your actions.

"It's okay," Keishin told you again, reaching across the table for your hand.

You shook your head and tugged your hand out of his reach. "No, it's not okay!" You rose to your feet, finally having had enough. "This dinner was a terrible idea. I cannot believe you!"

"If you've finally come to your senses, darling, we can send Keishin on his way and-" your mother reached for you as well but you shrugged her off.

"I'm not talking about Keishin! I'm talking about the two of you!" You slammed your hands down onto the table, shaking the dishes of food. "The whole night you have been making offhanded remarks and rude comments about Keishin while he has been nothing but the perfect guest. I'm sorry, Keishin, but I can't sit here and let you take their abuse anymore. I've dealt with it my whole life and I won't let them do the same thing to you. You don't deserve that."

"Y/N, you're being a bit dramatic, don't you think?" your father asked, sipping his wine as if nothing was happening, which only made you angrier.

"No, father, I don't think so," you snapped back. "I think that you and Mom are being horrible and I cannot believe that this is how you're acting when meeting someone for the first time. What makes you think that you have the right to treat someone so poorly just because they don't live the same life or have the same ideals as you? You think you know what is best for me but you don't even know me, so how could you?! I would rather work at the corner store for the rest of my life if it meant being genuinely happy over being a snobby, emotionless lawyer any day."

While you vented in front of your parents, Keishin just stared at you wide-eyed, completely floored by how quickly your demeanor had changed from shy and uncomfortable to enraged and animated in mere seconds. The last time he had seen you like this was when you were going off on him and he was grateful your rage wasn't directed at him this time.

Aside from relieved, Keishin felt proud; proud of you for standing your ground.

An embarrassed look flashed across your mother's face. "Y/N, please-"

"No, just don't," you lowered your voice and took a few deep breaths. "I can't do this anymore. I can't keep pretending that I'm going to put up with your plans for me just so I can have a roof over my head. Mom, Dad, I'm not going to law school. I'm not letting you dictate my life anymore. I'm done."

Stepping away from the table, completely emotionally drained, you looked over your shoulder at Keishin. "Come on, let's go." You waved for him to follow.

Without a word, Keishin stood from the table and followed you to the front door where the two of you grabbed your jackets and got ready to leave.

"If you walk out that door, don't bother coming back!" You heard your father call after you as you left the house, but his threat didn't phase you in the least. If anything, never having to return to that house sounded like bliss right then.

Wrapping your jacket tight around your body to fight the cool evening wind, you sighed. "I'm sorry about that," you told Keishin as he walked silently beside you. "I should never have dragged you into my mess. You don't deserve to be treated the way my parents treated you."

"You don't need to apologize." He wrapped his arm around you once more and held you close, both to comfort you and to keep you warm. "I'm just worried about you. Are you okay?"

You felt tears begin to well in your eyes and frantically wiped them away. "I . . . I don't know," you answered truthfully. "I suppose I should just worry about one thing at a time, and since I've apparently got nowhere to spend the night now . . ."

"You'll spend the night at my place," Keishin stated plainly, not even bothering to ask if you wanted to or not. It was more like an order, but right then, you had nothing against him making decisions for you. As long as the choices weren't made by your parents, you didn't care who they came from.

"Okay," you exhaled. "Thank you."

As the two of you walked through the quiet night in the direction of the store, Keishin pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it. Without thinking, you wrapped your arm around his waist and leaned into him, the warmth he radiated bringing you some semblance of peace.

"I'm sorry tonight went so shit," Keishin spoke as he exhaled, smoke spilling from his lips.

"It's not your fault," you told him. "In fact . . . I don't think tonight could have gone any better. In the end, this is how it was always going to turn out. It's better I realize that sooner rather than later."

Keishin stopped and looked down at you. "That's not-"

"It's okay," you said those two magic words this time. "You remember when you told me that no matter what happened they would always love me because I'm their daughter?"

Keishin nodded.

"I wish you could have been right."

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#lostinthewiind #piss off your parents #part 5 #ukai keishin x reader #coach ukai #haikyuu smut #x reader #reader insert #reader imagine #series #ukai #keishin #ukai x reader

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procrastinatingsapphictrash · 3 years

Text

I came back for you

Word count: 2123

Genre: Angst but happy end

Pairing: Natasha x gn!reader

Warnings: Abusive prison/government (let me know if I need to add any)

Request: Hey, so this is kind of a weird request, but could you do a Nattie x Powered! Reader during Civil War, where Nat, of course, is on Tony's team, and the Reader is trying to keep the peace between the two teams. Maybe the government takes (Y/n) and puts her in a shock collar like Wanda's because they think she was on Steve's team? Sorry this is so weird . . .

Summary: You are neutral in the fight, or so you think before you are told you can't be and are taken away with the rest of Cap's team.

A/n: Thanks @thewidowsghost for requesting this! Honestly I didn't plan on writing anything or posting anything today but I saw that I had a little bit of this done and to be honest my day has sucked so I needed a distraction and this worked perfectly. Also I could someone tell me how the formatting looks? I'm trying the new beta editor and I think I'm doing things right but idk. Anyways I hope you all enjoy!

As you take in the scene that surrounds you you can’t believe that you once considered everybody to be a big weird family. Certainly none of them are acting like it now. It breaks your heart to see them on opposite sides, throwing themselves at each other because apparently their personal beliefs are more important than their friends.

Neither of them are right or wrong in your opinion. There’s too many factors and both options suck, it’s the government’s fault for placing the team in this situation. However you are not happy with the way anyone is handling it, especially Steve, Tony and Natasha. Both Tony and Steve are acting based on what they think is right without considering the other sides to the story, although you can’t say that’s surprising coming from them. You do know that they genuinely do care for others but they can be very hard headed and neither of them like to be wrong.

It’s Natasha who you’re most disappointed in though, you thought that she would be a better negotiation, helping ease the tension but she’s out there fighting like the rest of the idiots. You thought that she would agree with you and try to bring together the two sides.

You narrow your eyes and zoom in your vision to the far side of the airport where you see Spiderman. You have no idea who he is but you can tell just by looking at him that he’s only a kid and it was irresponsible of everyone to let him be here and to fight him. You use your superspeed to get to him quickly and take him out of the way of flying cars and leave him by the side where it should be relatively safe.

“Stay here.” you tell him.

“But-”

You glare. “Stay here.”

You rush off before you can make sure he listens because you can hear a grunt of pain from Rhodney. He’s lying on the ground with Tony standing over him and Sam a few meters back. The fight seems to be ending now, you see the plane leaving and the rest of the avengers start to gather but it doesn’t matter because the damage is already done. You don’t know exactly what happened but it looks like a freak accident, somehow nobody’s fault and yet everybody’s fault for getting into this situation in the first place.

The mood is weird, as if everybody is holding their breath and taking in what they’ve done. In the background you can hear trucks pulling up and footsteps follow soon after. The first man grabs Wanda and she blasts him back lightly so he falls down. Immediately a circle forms around her, everyone pointing their guns. Clint takes a step in, raising his arms and trying to calm the situation down but the guns shift to him and one agent steps forward and roughly grabs him, forcing his wrists into cuffs.

They go for Sam next and he looks pissed but lets them cuff him without comment. Scott looks completely confused and out of his depth. You don’t know him but it’s obvious that he is not trained for these types of situations and is in over his head.

It’s Wanda that makes your heart break the most though. She’s like a little sister to you so seeing the tears in her eyes and the terror on her face as the agents move in to cuff her makes you want to wrap your arms around her and promise it will all be okay. But you can’t, that would be a lie because everything is not okay and trying to hug her would only make things worse.

The agents start to move away, leading Cap's team to their trucks to be taken away. One of them turns back and notices you, murmuring something to the agents beside them. Before you can even understand what is happening they are right back and grabbing at your arms roughly. Naturally you try to pull away but they are strong and once you realize what is happening you stop struggling.

“I didn’t pick a side,” you try to explain, “I was just trying to make sure everyone was okay.”

“You didn’t sign the accords and therefore have no right to be here.” one of the men tells you. You look towards Tony’s team for help but they all seem to be busy. Tony and Vision are trying to make sure Rhodney is okay and the kid is luckily back where you left him. T’challa is shaking hands with one of the agents and although it makes you sick because of the way they are treating some of the others you understand, he does have a country to run and his people must come first after all.

Natasha is the only one not doing anything and she meets your eyes. You silently beg her to do something, anything against what is happening. She stares you straight in the eye and shakes her head. You actually shiver at how cold her look is because you never thought that would be directed at you, you thought that the two of you were close.

“I’m not going to help you Y/n, you made your own choice and I made mine.” Is all she says before turning away. You watch her back as long as you can as you are led into the trucks, wondering how everything went wrong so quickly.

---

Nobody talks. You aren’t even sure if you’re allowed to. There is no way what they are doing is legal but who is going to argue with the government. A secret prison built just for enhanced individuals and imprisoning people without trial isn’t right. You were neutral before but the more you see of how the government operates the more you start to lean towards supporting Steve and the rest of his “team”.

You shift slightly because the shock collar is getting even more uncomfortable. Wanda is wearing one too, probably since the two of you are the only ones that have powers unrelated to technology and suits. She looks smaller than ever in her cell and you close your eyes because if you continue to look at her you know you’ll end up crying.

Nothing changes throughout the day until you hear the door creak open. Everyone glares when they see it’s Tony and he and Clint share a few words before Tony practically begs Sam for information. Sam’s reluctant but gives in, seeing that Tony is sincere and knowing that although he disagrees with Tony it’s not really his fault that you’re all here, it’s the government’s.

When Tony leaves things go silent again for a few hours. You haven’t been fed since you’ve gotten here, you realize, but you aren’t hungry anyways, your mind can’t stop picturing the fight, being arrested and most of all Natasha’s attitude towards you. It hurts even more than you would like to admit. You considered her your best friend but you also had feelings for her and you were dumb enough to think that just maybe she felt the same things about you. Obviously that is completely untrue and you wonder if even your friendship was a lie.

“How long do you think we’ll be stuck here for?” Wanda asks finally and although her voice is quiet you wince at how it breaks the silence.

“I don’t know kid.” Clint responds. “Too long. My wife is going to kill me and my kids-”

He stops himself, getting a little choked up which surprises you. You’ve never seen him this emotional before.

“I already miss my daughter.” Scott adds on and there is a moment of understanding that passes between the two of them.

“I don’t have my own family but I’m going to miss my sister.” Sam says. “She probably won’t even find out what’s happening until it’s on the news, if the news even covers it.”

“I miss the team.” you add. “Before this fight, we weren’t perfect but I considered everyone family.”

“So did I.” Wanda says and you all take a moment to miss what used to be.

“I miss pizza.” Sam jokes, trying to lighten the mood. It works and soon everyone is adding on ridiculous things they miss and things they want to do when you get out (you can’t even think about the fact that the “when” might actually be “if”).

Your eyes snap to the door when it opens and everyone shuts up immediately. You look warily at Natasha, unsure of why she’s here. Maybe the government sent her in to interrogate, god knows she is amazing at that and you honestly wouldn’t be able to not talk to her, as much as you’re mad at her right now.

She doesn’t speak, going straight towards Sam’s door and kneeling down, fiddling with the lock. After a few seconds it clicks and the door swings open.

“When did you switch sides?” He asks, raising his eyebrows, impressed.

“I don’t pick sides, I do what makes the most sense and right now breaking you out is the right thing to do. Besides I’m wanted now too, apparently the government doesn’t like it when you aid fugitives in escaping.” she responds smoothly, moving onto Wanda’s cell and repeating her actions until it opens.

“Do you know how to take the collar off?” she asks and Sam nods. He gets to work while Natasha moves on. Both Clint and Scott pass at her offer of freeing them. They both look like they’re itching to escape but you respect that they’re putting their families first.

You’re surprised by how emotional you get when she unlocks your cell. You thought she didn’t care about you so to have her here now is amazing and makes you feel bad you ever doubted that she would do the right thing.

“Y/n, it’s okay, I’ve got you.” she tells you as she undoes your shock collar carefully, doing her best to not hurt you.

“I-I thought you didn’t care about me anymore.” you admit, a single tear dripping down your face.

She wipes it away with her thumb. “Oh sweetheart I care about you so much, more than you could ever know and I want you to always remember that, promise me.”

You nod, sniffing. “I promise Tasha.”

“Good because I came back for you and I will always come back for you.” she says, leaning in closer. You look down at her lips as she continues to lean in because she is so close and it seems like she’s going to kiss you.

“Glad to know Y/n was the only reason you came back.” Sam says, smirking. You love him but you also want to strangle him right now, that bastard could totally see what was happening and ruined the moment on purpose.

Natasha flips him the finger but otherwise ignores him. “Steve and Bucky are waiting in the jet outside, I was able to dismantle alarms and cameras but we only have a few minutes left so follow me and be quiet.”

She grabs your hand as she moves out of your cell and you walk with her, the others trailing behind slightly. The halls are clear and it’s only a few turns before she ushers everyone into a vent. It’s a tight squeeze but you make it through and you pop out to find sturdy wires attached to the side of the raft coming from a nearby jet. Wanda and Sam each take one and their wires retract, pulling them into the jet. You gulp nervously, heights are definitely not one of your favourite things.

“We have to go Y/n.” Natasha whispers just as alarms start to sound, the noises loud with flashing lights.

You take a deep breath and grab the remaining wire and once you’re secure Natasha grabs it too. Closing your eyes tightly so you don’t look down you feel a strange whooshing sensation before it disappears and your feet touch down on the jet floor.

“So what next?” Sam asks once you’ve all collected yourselves, directing his question at Steve.

“We lie low and try to help as best we can.” he responds, sighing heavily. “We’ll figure out the details as we go, what matters is that everybody is safe.”

Natasha holds your hand again and squeezes it tightly. “And that we are together.” she whispers into your ear so only you hear.

You squeeze her hand tightly back. Your relationship with her has gone through a rollercoaster of a day and is mostly undefined but she’s right, all that matters is that you’re together now and you wouldn’t rather be with anyone else.

---

Taglist: @fayhar @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @acertainredhead @madamevirgo @megaqueenmaeve @cherryblossomskye @aaron-despair @chickenhavewisdom @emril-osvigne @nyankitty987 @agathaharkness-simp @thewidowsghost @nyx-aira @stephanieromanoff @satxnsupreme @likefirenrain @wlwlovesreading @stop-drop-and-drumroll @peggycarter-steverogers @casperlikej @redswing @mochamoff @king-star @blackbat2020

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #black widow #black widow x reader #marvel fanfiction #x reader

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bonny-kookoo · 4 years

Text

Sweet Girl [J.JK x Reader]🔞🌼☁️

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Smut, angst because I like to cry myself to sleep

Warnings: dom/sub dynamics, dom!jungkook, sub!Reader, size kink is still strong, mild dd/lg themes, praise kink, long haired jungkook because yes that needs to be a warning, strength kink, they fuck in the kitchen smh

Jungkook and you are in a healthy relationship, managing all those things couples have to manage; building an IKEA bed, having your first fight, or arguing who should do the laundry this time. Apart from that, your life inside your bedroom has been pretty active as well, leaving Jungkook more satisfied than ever. He's not a horny teenager anymore after all, trying not to bust a nut just because he got a glimpse of your nipples through your rather thin shirt- yet you always manage to be so unbelievably sinful, he can't help but snatch a taste every now and then. After all, you're his- he's simply reminding you.

This is part of the 'Good Girl'-Universe!

Good Girl || Sweet Girl || Smart Girl || Brave Girl

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Jeon Jungkook and you loved to tease each other. From the way he would rub his sweat-soaked hair all over the crook of your neck playfully after his workout just to rile you up, just to exclaim happily that you love him too much to actually be serious when you yell that he's disgusting. And he's right- even if he's exhausting to be around sometimes with his seemingly endless energy (seriously, you're convinced at this point that he's the human embodiment of the energizer bunny), or how he could sometimes forget that you're not as tough as his other male friends that he was regularly around. You catch yourself laughing inside yourself every time you turn into a crybaby and tear up when a comment gets under your skin, because his entire body changes posture- every time he notices you getting hurt because he's too rough while playfighting, or when he again tells you you could just get your chubby butt up and work out with him, completely ignoring the fact that he knows its a very sensitive topic for you; he literally turns into a complete child who just got asked to explain rocket science. Jungkook isn't used to handle something as fragile as a girl- plus, you play along and usually brush off most things so easily, that he simply sometimes forgets that you actually have weak points.

One of these moments occured early on in your relationship; it was a silly mistake on his side really. When Taehyung asked him straight up if he was dating you, you didn't expect a huge love proposal; Jungkook wasn't like that. But a simple yes would've been okay as well- yet Jungkook being the cocky bastard he was, simply made a comment along the lines of 'nah, I'm just screwing her.' It was meant as a joke really, and it took him a good thirty seconds to notice your demeanor changing. Deep inside you, you knew he didn't mean it like that, yet it still hit you hard, especially considering his past hobby of trying to be the biggest manwhore around. When he'd went after you just when you had told him you'd be using the bathroom and not returning after a good ten minutes, he'd bursted into the womans bathrooms just in time to see you trying to wipe away your tears. His face had been priceless really now that you thought about it; before that moment you always had a hard time imagining that 'kicked puppy look' people always talked about- he didn't look like you just kicked him, but full on sucker punched his prized playstation out of orbit just for a laugh. He was totally unprepared and clearly had no idea what to do in that moment, never having needed to deal with tears in that way- and your face had hit him especially hard, considering how it was his fault at that. Considering how lost he really was he dealt with it quite sweetly, yet in a typical Jungkook fashion- uncaring of other woman and girls trying to get into the bathroom, he'd grabbed a considerable amount of tissue paper from the dispenser next to the sink you were standing in front of, promptly sitting you on top of it to properly have you at eye-level with him to wipe away your tears and smeared make up, telling you how you looked better without it anyways, and how sorry he was for being an utter asshole and idiot at the same time. You honestly started laughing at that. Not necessarily his comment even though it was true, but his extremely concentrated face, as if he was restoring an ancient artwork or something the likes of that. He audibly sighed at that, glad to know you didn't hate him. Because that was his innermost fear; you probably seeing the dickbag he thought he was underneath and leaving him for good. Not that he'd tell you that. You knew of that fear though.

Needless to say, it wasn't the only thing that happened between you both. Yet you've always overcome these things with ease, both of you growing surprisingly mature about arguments as time went on. Jungkook changed you as well- you were a wallflower before, and if you were honest, you kind of still were. But you were carrying yourself with a newfound confidence because of his daily praises- turning heads every now and then simply because you actually liked yourself these days. And Jungkook noticed as well- always commenting on how he didn't know if he liked the change or not, considering how much attention you now got everywhere you both went. You simply countered that with a simple comment along the lines of 'Now you know how I feel', because he was glowing up every month it seemed. Yet he stayed true to his words back then to you; he really did only have eyes for you anymore.

What really did piss him off was just how innocent you could be sometimes. It had him fuming how oblivious you could seem to others shamelessly flirting with you, yet he knew that he loved that about you just as much. The fact that you would willingly (and happily of course) let him corrupt you over and over again fuled his pride to no ends, making him feel like he was your knight in shining armor, even if it sounded sappy. Right now however he could really use some more patience, because he was sure his own amount was slowly running out. When he came back home, he didn't really have any plans, except for the one you had already agreed on. You both wanted to cook something tonight, nothing fancy, simply craving some kind of 'bonding time' as you called it, even though he had immediately told you this could be done in a different way, to which you blushed. He loved making you embarrassed, almost craving the way your flustered cheeks would turn into a beautiful red shade.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

He knew those plans would change however as soon as he spotted you on the couch in his living room. That itself wasn't something new since you lived here, but the attire you chose was rather.. unfair. He was supposed to keep it in his pants tonight, yet he could already feel himself rising against the fabric of his sweatpants at the view of you in a black shirt of his, oversized on your way smaller body. Yet that exactly did it- because that was all you wore, apart from your flimsy pair of pastel blue lace rimmed panties. You raised your head from out of your book and he was a goner as soon as he saw those eyes.

"Babydoll you're being really unfair right now." He groaned as he sat down on the couch, making you bounce a bit next to him. You looked at him confused, his patience snapping. Maybe it was his frustration that had filled up his mind during the day, or simply his habit of taking what he wanted when he wanted it, but soon enough you found yourself on his lap, your legs on either side of his. His hands were fast to reach under your, or more so his shirt, growling when he felt your bare breasts underneath his fingers. You really were asking for it.

Stop. Mission abort. Cancel all open tasks. Shutdown, emergency-

With a sigh the young boy detached himself from you, running a hand through his hair rather agressively. Even though he would usually not feel too bad about his actions, especially with you, considering he felt rather safe and comfortable around you, he had to remember the small argument you both had the night prior. It really hadn't even been an argument if he was being honest, and it was basically all on him that night, yet he felt like he needed to second-guess his actions now. It had been a simple question really, admittedly a fair one at that, however, it also was one he rather feared answering. Yes, Jeon Jungkook was actually scared of a mere question.

'Why won't you kiss me?'

Well, yeah. Why wouldn't he? To answer that would mean to expose himself, to open himself up, to be vulnerable- and even though he knew deep down that you would never use anything against him in an almost predatory meanor others in the past had, he couldn't shake the feeling off. The fear, of what he couldn't tell. He simply waved you off, telling you that you both didn't need those sappy gestures, and you had simply nodded, accepting that, even though he knew that you felt hurt by his answer. Hell, he felt hurt by his own answer. And what had hurt him even more was your reaction to it; somehow he wanted you to be offended, to openly dig at his wounds, to scratch at his scars and make him spill his blood into your hands. He didn't want you to feel like he only loved you physically, like he only wanted to own your body, because he craved so much more than your touchable form. He wanted to build his home into your very soul, wanted to surround himself with your voice and live in your very heartbeat- yet it didn't matter how romantic and oh-so poetic his own thoughts could be. It didn't matter at all if he couldn't say it.

He looked at you, internally cringing at the way you looked at him, utterly confused. You'd gotten so used to him using you that it made his own saliva taste bitter, making him crinkle his brows a little. "I-" He started, yet took a deep breath, his eyes aimlessly dancing over the plush carpet, analyzing the various shades of light brown it presented to him. Right now he hated it. Hated how it made his apartment, your apartment feel like home. He hated how it did fit into the living room even though he'd complained about you buying it, arguing that you started to take over his life back then when you both didn't even date each other. He hated how he fell in love with it after he'd seen you lay on it with your phone in hand, the small white fan in the corner of the room softly blowing your hair and clothes during the summer. He hated how he remembered spilling his soda on it one day, freaking out because he knew even if he would cover it up you'd notice, you always noticed. Just like now. Because the hand you'd placed on his shoulder as a form of comfort had never felt so heavy on him, like a brick trying to force his entire back down. "M' sorry.." He simply grunted out, putting his head in his hands.

"What're you sorry for?" You had laughed a bit uneasy, and he hated the sound of it. He always pictured himself as the man who was oh-so protective of you, yet right now he'd never felt so small. "Is it about yesterday? You don't have to change Jungkookie, I don't mind-" Yet he had to shut you up, turning a bit to look at you with a face melted into a vision of being thrown side by side by your own thoughts. This was exactly the issue. You didn't mind- and he knew that you didn't even lie about that- it made everything so much worse.

The nickname, the way you said it, the way you meant it- it all just punched his guts even harder. Instead of answering he simply took your face in his hands, placing his lips onto yours with so much emotion you could feel them trembling. His kisses turned into more than simple pecks, they turned into desperate cries of confusion, of insecurity, of so many things you would've never associated Jungkook with. Slowly your bodies fell into place again, with him laying you down on your back, a pillow falling down and knocking a fork down from the small table, yet none of you cared about it in that moment. As soon as you reached for his belt he'd grabbed your hand, holding them with such care. "No no- I-" He said, switching between kissing and talking. "I want to- no, I need to make love to you, yeah?" You squeaked at his sudden movement when he'd picked you up, trying to carry you to the shared bedroom, yet aborting that mission as well by simply sitting you ontop of the kitchen counter, the marbled stone cold underneath your butt. You gasped into the open air, the way he'd just lifted you with such ease making you feel so small- in every good way possible. Yet even though this wasn't the first time making out in the kitchen, this was new- to both of you. He had no clue what to actually do, exploring new territory as well as you did in that moment, never having gone slow before. Yet he slowly eased into it, his arms leading his hands over your exposed skin, fingers softly squeezing the flesh of your thighs. His kisses started to wander, caressing your neck, yet even though his dominant side was starting to show the more comfortable he got with what he was doing, you noticed a slight difference in his demeanor. His arms weren't limiting your movement, weren't moving you around to his hearts content- even though you would never complain about that- they were around you, his hands on your back, bunching up the fabric of his shirt in his hands, then letting go just to repeat like a kneading cat. "You're so sweet, so so sweet, did I ever tell you that?" He whispered almost like a secret, and you felt like he was bewitching you in a weird way. "Wanna keep you all to myself, wanna hide you like a secret." He said lowly, almost growled, and you felt yourself slowly fall for his word with every sound he made. "But I also wanna show you everyone, wanna show everyone how lucky I am, how I got the prettiest and sweetest of them all." He said, hands wandering up his shirt you were wearing, running over your soft breasts, squeezing them softly and relishing in the way they felt under his fingertips. He always loved your skin, even though you'd complained before how you disliked the slight chub on your lower belly, or how your thighs were thicker than most girls your height. Yet he couldn't find anything wrong with it, loving the way it gave you such a soft vibe and feel. This was you, every little flaw that you were seeing he saw as another thing to love about you, as sappy as it sounded. "You're my good girl, my best girl.." He said before he started to move your already ruined panties to the side, his fingers exploring your heat. "My only girl." He said, making you mewl into his neck, hands now grabbing his shirt for a change. He made you shuffle a bit closer towards him, standing between your legs while his tattooed hand pushed two fingers inside you, reaching to make you feel good, yet never going the usual pace.

"Jungkoo-ah- Jungkookie please-!" You sighed, and he simply chuckled, kissing your neck, down to your collarbone where he playfully nipped at the skin, loving the sounds you were making. "No no no, I wanna go slow yeah? Wanna make love babydoll, we got time.." He said, and you shot him a pout, making him laugh. "Come on I'm trying to be romantic here!" He said, and you reached for his jeans again- making him move your hands away again. "Nuh-uh. Good girls are patient. You can wait right, pretty girl?" He said playfully, making you pout again. He couldn't help but comply with you. How could he not? He loved you. He really did. Fuck, he really, really did. Undoing his belt and letting his pants fall to his knees along with his underwear, he reached for your butt, making you shimmy even closer to him so he could swiftly enter you, making both of you gasp out both in anticipation and relief from your side for getting your way.

The simple view he had of your form speared on his cock was the sole reason he loved every position that made him look at you. The picture in front of him just was too presious yet sinful to be wasted. He wished he could take a picture of it actually, yet he decided against it, having heard his phone fall out of the back pocket of his jeans before, and he was kind of too terrified to see his screen cracked yet. He also couldn't really think about it, the way your walls engulfed him occupying his mind almost completely. His arms encaved you, holding you against him as close as possible, creating a safe haven for you and your mindset. You always slipped into some sort of headspace whenever his praise and affection got to a certain point- something that had terrified you at first, making you feel a bit embarrased as well- yet Jungkook had assured you that it was completely okay and normal, having googled it someday back when he'd been bored on his phone. It was actually quite endearing that your mind trusted him enough to slip into such a vulnerable state, his pride feeding off if it to no end.

He wanted to go slow, yet by the end of it his pace had quickened to his typical ruthless tempo, making you gasp out bursts of breath against his neck, hands clawing at his shoulder blades though the material of his shirt, grabbing onto him for dear life, while on your fast lane to release. When he came himself his breathing got erratic from oversensitivity, yet he ignored it to bring you over the edge as well, even making you ride it out to its fullest afterwards. When you slowly deflated against him, hands simply reaching out for his body, he softly cooed at you, completely enchanted by you in your post-orgasmic bliss. Suddenly he laughed, resting his head in the crook of your neck. "God, why am I like this?" He said, soft smile turning bitter. "Can't even be soft for one fucking time." Yet your hand softly ran through his now slightly damp locks, head turning to look at him with so much endearment he could cry- well, he actually felt his eyes start to sting, but he swallowed them down.

"You don't have to, Jungkookie." You softly said, and he wanted to argue. "Don't change. You're perfect just the way you are. I love you either way. Doesn't matter if you buy me roses or screw me in the kitchen. I take any love you give me." He suddenly laughed, and his eyes turned into sparkling half moons, his bunny smile almost blinding you.

"God I love you."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

"Jungkookie?"

"hm?"

"I'm hungry."

"There's leftovers in the oven."

"You're not gonna treat me some chicken nuggets?"

"Tomorrow maybe. Its too late now baby."

"Come on, be a sweet baby-boy and do it-"

"Careful sweetheart."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

IT.IS.FINALLY.OUT.Thank you all so so much for waiting so patiently, I really didn't expect all of you to even stay, let alone shower me with all of your support- I really didn't deserve that! I hope I didn't dissapoint too much with it, since I didn't check for spelling errors :( I love you all, and I hope you're all staying safe and healthy during these times! Remember that spreading love begins with self-love, and self-love begins with small steps 💜

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