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theinsanecrayonbox · 2 years

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KP watches the live action Monster High Movie

watching the MH movie with review watching thoughts. we started this somewhere around 10 am...ended around 1:30 pm. oh goodie, this is a LONG post

right off the bat that’s not Deena, that’s my Leena. sorry i don’t make the rules.

but also, how was it comfortable for her ears to be in that helmet? and how has she lived with those for 15 years and no one noticed? was she just homeschooled? and she’s now the tofu eater?? and aren’t almonds dangerous for canine? (i know she’s a people too, but werewolves aren’t supposed to have chocolate (sometimes) due to their canine side so...) and her mom also had constant ears too?? but what? i thought, from the preview texts, that she had JUST started to become a wolf, as in she looked human up until recently? how did her mom hide out in the human world? where even IS her mom? (you’re only a min and half in KP geeze) that family portrait implies she stuck around longer than Aquaman’s mom did so she didn’t at least drop baby Deena off and ran i guess...but yeah mom and kid had ears and that was a JCP portrait; didn’t the photographer think that was strange?? i just...i’m only a min and half in and i am having far too many questions, i can’t let this spiral like the netflix death note watch review did, i just...i just can’t...

ok so Deena got a hogwarts letter...i guess she applied online? heh “dark web’ sure i’ll give that for a pun. but her dad knows all about monster stuff? ok...but people at the park don’t? i...what is world consistence?!?!?!? i mean, MH always has that problem about how closely linked the human and monster realms are, how much bleeding into one another there is. but i...no, no, just move past it, we need to get hairy pawter to magic school for the plot. but also, half-monsters are a regular thing????? no, no, moving forward...

i know people pointed out the license plate saying “bark” but i wonder, was 9/25 the original release of MH something or other? also...what state is that plate from??? the closest i know is the DC plate, but it’s not exactly right and the mountainous landscape doesn’t match places around there...is it just a made up plate design?

lol yes walk through the spooky skeleton mouth portal. but dad is kinda far too chill with this...kids’ movie though, so that’s to be expected.

oh musical number 5 minutes in...yeah we are a kids movie. but hey the school’s render, though not super top tier (tv budget) does look good. but yikes that poor backgrounder in the neon yellow body suit who’s face paint does not match. that’s rough buddy.

oh hey Ula. just...dropped in with no introduction. and Abbey is...yeah not gonna touch that yet. but Frankie, also just dropped in. this really relies on you being familiar with the MH lore and setup going into this, doesn’t it? heh mummies in combat boots. but cleo....is not over the top enough...and being besties with piranha Lagoona is still weird to me...i can *kinda* forgive the “i broke up with Deuce over the summer” plot point because that does open us up to new story lines for them (as in them getting back together, not just them dating other people). and Lagoona’s CGI still looks very cheap ^^; but honestly why isn’t she pink like her doll? everyone else gets colored (though now thinking about it Deuce isn’t really green is her...) the fact you have folks with human skintones really doesn’t help your “no humans allowed” sentiment when a class photo looks like half the student bodies are human passing.

wait Heath is bit more bro-mode and less weenie, but kinda right in the hitting on everything that moves (that was Abbey right?). and no Deuce is green, so yeah why isn’t Lagoona pink?

oh hey Ghoulia

ah Mr OC teacher is the newbie student teacher. that’s nice.

and we are starting with teh anti-witchcraft. but ohho, Dracula calls it a “human practice” so my thought that it’s frowned upon BECAUSE it’s humans pretending to be monsters kinda dealio was right. ok, cool, i’m good with that. i also can’t help but wonder if giving that to Drac to complain about has anything to do with his past employment of romani...but we won’t go there since again, kids’ property, it ain’t really gonna go there.

is that Spectra Deena says hi to in the dorm hallway?? also, hey the dorms! we get to see them for once! i have always liked the idea of the school dorms for those monster kids who have to travel too far from home. i mean, i guess now everyone lives there without question, so that’s cool too. but yay dorms.

wait, Ghoulia speaks normally? uh...ok...well, the trend of taking away the neat unique character bits is a thing for G3. but she her line “that always gets the freshmen” (why not freshmeat boo) implies she’s at least a sophomore? that’s kinda cool, it’s nice to have some grade divisions. and i guess Deuce is too since it seemed this was at least his second year at school.

Frankie is kinda awkward but sweet. although, they’re made from famous people parts huh? not just...general parts...or possibly the Skull Shores lady...made from specific famous people parts...like Herman in the new Munsters movie...and Ula is a witch vampire just like Lilly...uh...moving on.

that window looked like it was just glued onto the wall

ok wow, Ula’s personality feels like a complete 180. she’s not into community? she was president of the vegan vampire club and always doing community outreach before. she was into sharing and group activities. i know she’ll grow out of this through her arc i’m sure, but just wow. she’s got more Cleo attitude than Ula.

oh, ok, i take back a little positive points from the castle, it looks not as good in daylight. but also, why is there daylight in a monster realm? eternal night would seem better for most species wouldn’t it?

ok if Frankie’s parts came from folks that didn’t have schools, how can the parts be viable enough to be useable for them in the modern times? did their parents have super juice that rehydrated them or something? (you’re only 15 min into this 90 min movie, you’re never gonna make it KP)

ok if you have on campus dorms, why would you require lockers? that's more me just asking not critiquing the movie’s choices, because logically that just doesn’t make sense to me. lockers are to store your personal and extra school stuff...but you have a dorm room for that here. maybe to cut back cross-campus traffic i guess? just seems redundant to me.

ok wait, Deuce broke up with Cleo, not the other way around? ok...i’ll take back a few of those “i’m *kinda* alright with it” points because it could still be because of Cleo’s family stuff that caused it...

calling Frankie a “walking jigsaw puzzle” could work as an insult...if they looked more mismatched. but they look pretty uniform, just you know, greenish blue. their outfit even coordinates enough. also Deena that was a tiger roar; you are not Tora. and Abbey and Heath are chatting behind Deuce...those two are still going to be a thing aren’t they...

hey Deena is taller than Frankie here. that doesn’t line up. also, was Deena’s surname Wolf before? was her dad named Mr Wolf? is that how her parents met, cause her mom thought she was meeting another werewolf but turned out to be a funny human dude that she ended up falling for? does the monster and human tinders crossover like that if you don’t hit the right setting? or was it a “my gym partner is a monkey” situation and it stuck dad on the monster’s side? i have no basis for any of this, i guess i’m starting to wonder a bit...only 18 min in, that’s not good

heh Bloodgood’s office is in the clocktower. that’s kinda cool...but would be annoying to get to? all those stairs i’m sure. but wait, joan of Arc gave her the coffee mug? ok, ignoring the “i hate mondays” gag would not have been a thing back then, wasn’t she, oh idk, HUMAN???? WHY would you brag about knowing a human (even in the past) well enough to get gifts when your whole culture is AGAINST humans??? she was burned as a witch; was she really one in this setting? but she still would’ve been human then maybe. i know it’s a stupid gag, but you aren’t even following your own lore rules??

ok lore drop. so...the school was founded when the monsters broke free from human oppression. so...they built this pocket for the school so their kids could grow up safely. ok, i can get behind that. does that mean that adults live out in the human world? is this like BeaStars where the kids are separated until adulthood? also...Bloodgood knows momma Wolf; does she know she ran off with a human dude? if not, where does she think Deena came from? ok she makes a joke about him being human...but does she know? is Bloodgood really pro-human and reunification/integration and that’s why she’s making Deena important? also, why is her mom such a big deal; if she wasn’t just a generic werewolf someone should’ve noticed she went missing when she ran off with dad. also, also, Pierre could totally be a monster name, he’s just french-canadian guys (which oh look, i’ll count a half point on my OC checklist since my Leena *is* canadian-american). oh but now Bloodgood is saying humans bad, and hah did make the french joke...but why would a french wolf be rare? again, canadian solves that easily, lots of space for wolves to be free.

LOL Ula making toilet hooch potion. ok, that’s funny, score a point for you movie. but on the other hand...you should’ve locked that door and that’s a public bathroom, you really should’ve been doing that in your dorm’s (or your dorm floor’s) Ula. i get it, you grew up in a castle with a zillion bathrooms no one used, but still girl, plan your secret spell casting better.

ok so Deena turning human is the new change, not that she became a wolf. ok, i’ll give you a point for switching it up...but again that begs the question on how did she stay hidden for so long, especially when they weren’t really hiding -.-

wait so Mr OC Teacher doesn’t have teaching degree? he just quit an accounting job and decided to teach high school? no wonder he sucks

ok school, if you are sentient, and you *know* Deena is human, why not just lock her out of everything? why be cryptic? unless...you don’t mean Deena and you mean Mr OC. GASP! you do mean him don’t you! because he’s teaching without a license and encouraging the segregation! Deena is a misdirect! also, MR OC is only in this movie as far as i know, so him being kicked out at the end would clean that up nicely... i cracked the code. now to see if i’m right

oh wow, bright daylight on the castle...yikes...

and more Abbey and Heath...meh. also why woudl you want to eat that foot after playing with it, won’t it be gross? also also, was that a HUMAN foot??? so you hate humans, keep segregated from them, but you’ll still use them a food source? what?

Frankie...why do you have innate monster physiology knowledge? all the smart brains you claimed to have were human related. also, why is everyone ok with you being made of human parts if humans bad? GAH! the inconsistence of what parts of humanity are bad is annoying and we are going to be her all day with me pointing them all out. (spoiler: i’m still going to be pointing them out)

oh goodie the “i hate humans” musical number is about to start. 24-25 min in, so i guess the musical numbers are spaced out well enough, so point there.

ok lore dump; 1071 the school was started, and yes it was to gives the kids a safe space, and again human are bad. but we learn about Jekyll/Hyde...so Jackson does not exist...and hey was that mom Wolf? was her name Selena? and she was in school with Eddy and...Drac?? ok...is Ula’s dad not Vlad then? is he like Dracula the 3rd or something? i could buy Eddy and Mom being in school together sure, but if Ula’s dad is the original Dracula that doesn’t line up at all. also, also, that photo must’ve been taken with a digital camera because vampires don’t photograph due to the silver used in film/developing. so again, that would line up kinda with Mom’s age...but why would Eddy’s attempting to be monster/human be that recent? the school was founded in 1071, there were no halfbreeds from then to the 90s? or were halfbreeds allowed up until Eddy??? because Eddy isn’t really a halfbreed, at least not like Deena here is. he wasn’t integrated, and if he worked like Jackson, was unaware of the two consciousnesses. so yeah, he would be a danger to exposing them. while Deena is a halfbreed, despite her puberty hiccups, is integrated. also Eddy did not look like a teenager...BUT again, he was a liability, so kicking him out could still expose the lot of you you know. i get an angry mob killed him apparently (and labeled a “mutant’ so...could he be Mikey’s foster dad then??? O.o) but if he’d stayed human mode he could’ve blended in and plotted revenger, just saying...

wait does Heath have a mullet?? oh wait that’s his hood, ok it looked like his hair ^^; zomr there’s a backgrounder who’s lime green with fizzy dark roots to blonde hair, and i just laughed cause that’d be Betty-Sue easily XD

oh no Cleo don’t try to seduce your teacher! i know you’re thousands of years older than him, but he’s your teacher!!

oh so the lab they find later is Eddy’s not Sparky’s or Hexikiah’s. but he was making a potion to get rid of his human side? so...the opposite of the original story...that’s cool. but also (i say also A LOT don’t i?) does that mean he might be a descendant of the original Jekyll/Hyde then like Jackson? so he was born this way, but the serum kicked in when he hit puberty and that’s when he discovered his human switch (again, like Jackson but reversed since he grew up thinking he was human (the later retcon not withstanding) ). he’d still not be a halfbreed mind you (unless one of his parents was human and that’s why the dormant serum effects were active in him)

i applaud the actors all talking super clearly with fake fangs on. good job kids, you’re doing wonderfully.

her claws are naturally purple? the air being naturally purple i guess...and wouldn’t it hurt more to change out ears? eh, at least Frankie is taking the situation well. but you have WWII brains??? i’m pretty sure that guy was human too here my dude. (though i am once again curious how WWII influenced the monster world and how they interacted with that and other historical events). but realistically, you need a sypher key of some sort to decode things, as far as i can tell Frankie is just making up what that book says without any evidence to back it up (then again, i want “realistic” in this? ha! i’m dumb). however...it was vague enough to suggest that maybe he wasn’t purging his human persona, but was looking to integrate...or he discovered his missing piece was his human heritage...

wait Deena can video chat with dad through dimensional layers? so...my jokes about monster tinder might be right? you’d think the monsters woudl have their own cell service and internet that wouldn’t be able to interact with the human ones...but did she have an iCoffin before coming to school? is that why it works? did they jailbreak it?

ok Deuce usually helps at these yearly dinners...has heard it a bunch...so is he a junior? or does this school also house the Middle School? (i’ll take a point for that) i know species age at different rates, but the school year shouldn’t be repeated over and over until you reach the developmental milestone; you’ll have the knowledge, just go to the next grade. or is this not a yearly event, but a bi-yearly one? he’s still not a freshmen. i guess you could get away with him being held back a year, since they keep suggesting he was a trouble maker (though we have no evidence to support that) so he could be a sophomore, and repeated freshman year once. the other option is his mom’s on the alumni committee so he’s attended the event as a guest before i guess

haha “nocturnal feeders please report to the cafeteria”, thank you for acknowledging the night class

Phil Hermiton? Frankie’s “uncle”? ok, so if he’s in a monster graveyard, then he probably was a monster...so not all their parts were human, i’ll give you that one. but...why? he died at age 30 in ‘04. ok some monsters are shorter life spanned but...he died 18 years prior, his parts wouldn’t be viable for usage. did Frankie’s parents just collect parts when they became freshly available and invented suspended animation to keep then viable for decades?

aww sweet moment of Deena and Frankie connecting.

and Ghoulia lives in the graveyard. i mean...i guess that makes sense. you could use that as an undead dorm, but housing them in a crypt would be better.

oh NOW you’ve learned toilet potions are bad lol. and again, citing witchcraft is a human thing. and another musical number at the halfway point, about being yourself and having friends who don’t judge your weirdness. yeah, sure.

i need lunch. this 90 min movie has been going on for 2 hours...and we’re only halfway through...ok 30 min later we are back to the movie

hey wait, is it really wise to be loudly singing about spellwork and stuff there when you know Ghoulia’s bed is like 10 feet to the left? but ooo mysterious shadow, dundundun

wait another musical number? oh no just the radio. and the coffin bean is on-campus? i knew mayo was an evil magic! but oh the lore breaky coffee cup is plot important.

purple haired backgrounder named Scary??? huh...

waitwaitwait confirmation that humans who die become ghosts, because of that Queen Elizabeth I joke????

oh good, the movie had a decapitation for all of 5 seconds

no don’t talk about magic plans, i wanna hear about the dragon lore girls! historical lore for world building!! and dragons!!!! wait...Mr OC has a two toned outfit...half and half...is he gonna be a Hyde? is that why he’s a nerd and doesn’t look a thing like a minotaur? cause that’d be dumb...

oh it’s mirror zoom call time with the Darculs. so yeah, Drac is now Ram and Ula is Cleo. and vamps vs witches for centuries???

monster biology? not biteology? boo

wait Gorgons are ostracized in the monster community? is it because of their human ancestry? the whole “snake hair and turn to stone” can’t be it, other monster species have more deadly powers than those. and Deuce is the first in his family to go to the school? (doesn’t ruin Seth, that’s fine there) so his mom is not an alumni...so he is older than 15 and possibly was held back.

oh it’s another musical number for real this time, 58 min in. again, his glasses aren’t tinted dark enough; i’d give you they could be the proper prescription to reflect/block the goron gaze, but the “they think i’m sleeping” line does not work. maybe he used to have darker glasses in his “a few years i was on a dark path” phase, but it’s not now. but good on Deuce for not getting mad at Deena for saying “i just waned your snake venom”...though he sorta should have...

see Ghoulia is right there and listening to you guys, she knows all your witchcraft and halfbreed secrets. you guys are just lucky she’s cool and not a narc

ok Cleo just admitted she was once mortal, aka human. WHY is she cool to be here??? you guys hate humans. is it because she’s been undead for X-amount of time? it can’t be because she was affected by/used magic since witchcraft is also bad and hated.

“you should be ashamed for not living up to the standards expected of you” well Bloodgood, that’s your fault for assuming these children should be untouchable paragons of monster purity or whatever; you teach high school, you should know better, kids are dumb idiots who do stupid things, whether they are monsters or not

and Cleo’s going to become good because Deena saved her unlife. well...the power of friendship was good, but this is a good way to start that off i guess. the school throwing a tantrum though; why would it “tear itself apart" because of an internal threat? shouldn’t it be trying to purge itself of that threat? or is it more like it’ll rip apart the pocket space they’re in, and phase the school back into the human realm?

oh musical reprise time, 1:05 into it, ok. but surprised she could run away so easily, since you know just caught galivanting past curfew, no one was watching the dorm? and Ula can travel to the human world too??? Frankie too? so anyone can travel that portal? did the other kids all travel by portal/s?

OH! she needed a HUMAN hand to open the door. ok, i did not notice/think of that, so kudos. but why did you invoke the name of your principal as a declaration of shock?

uhoh you left the crypt open, rookie mistake ghouls.

lol Frankie wanting to make a bomb.

oh look it’s Mr OC...and *sarcastic gasp* no way you’re telling me minotaurs are HALF HUMAN. the guy who looked the most human in eth whole school was HUMAN. who would’ve thunk it! i am in complete and utter shock. and he’s not Eddy but Eddy’s son with a minotaur lady? so...he’s a quarter human? whatever, he’s the bad guy and the unclean spirit, hurray i win. but...if he’s Eddy’s son, and Eddy and Wolf Mom were in school together why is he older? did Eddy knockup his prom date or something? but he did say “mother’s maiden name” implying she and Eddy were married? or she married someone...why do i care, he’s the bad guy now, can we just roll with that. so wait, he couldn’t open the door because he didn’t get the human switch (ignoring his hands look human anyways) so...he’s not half human then, because he only got the Hyde not the Jekyll. he makes no sense. G3 Jackson you are not good sir (thank ra). and yeah, is that’s closer to what pure minotaurs look like (and we go know how Manny looks too mind you) how did no one think he wasn’t a pureblood to begin with???? yeah sure, go threaten to destroy the place as an act of revenge for your dad, that’s fine. i’m still confused by your biology and the world’s politicking here my dude.

ok, so an uber monster that can steal others’ powers...that’s actually a great idea for a villain.

oh hai Lagoona, sorta forgot you were a character here

oh that’s Abbey being a server at the diner...i thought that was a white werecat. kinda wondering who all the alumni donners are though...we got a Nosferatu and a Minotaur (again, we see him there, HOW did you think Mr OC was a pureblood???) but what are the ladies? is the white haired one a ghost lady?

so powerless Ula can still magic, because witchcraft taps into magic and is not innate. good good.

why is Ghoulia rushing in to help out? i get Heath and Abbey having followed Deuce, but she was dirt napping to the left and didn’t bother to jump in to help until now?

it’s funny how human!Deena looks more like Deena than G3 Deena does

and really, we defat the bad guy THAT easily? uhg, kids’ movie

ok so Deena thinks she’s getting kicked out. but again, letting her run out in the human wilds AS A WOLF would just reveal yourselves. you should lock her up...but again, she’s not getting kicked out, she gets to stay cause everyone decided that centuries of segregation might’ve been a bad idea. uhhu, sure. but i guess confirmation that momma Wolf is dead since the “she would’ve been so proud” line kinda suggests that?

dad, cubs aren’t wolves...but wait he’s Apollo? he’s the sun? and momma the moon?? i...that’s cheesey. lets just roll into the closing musical number as everyone’s arcs are quickly wrapped up. Deena gets to stay, Ula gets to study magic with Drac’s approval, Frankie gets to have friends, and Deuce gets to be a politician.

oh and sequel baiting with some witch thinking Ula can destroy all vampires? meh, sure i guess.

so...wow it took me 3 hours to watch a 90 minute movie. but unlike the netflix death note, it wasn’t from rage i just...i like lore, i’m fairly familiar with the G1 lore, and this couldn’t hold it’s own consistency you know? it’s far from a **bad** adaptation. i honestly like it far better than WtMH as a restart of the property. but it...idk. it was far less Descendants than i thought it’d be, so that’s also good. apparently the series is not directly tied to this, this is semi-stand alone as far as i’m aware? idk. it was good to watch it, but probably not something i’ll watch again on my own.

#kp watches tv #kp watches stuff #monster high #review

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dumbdumbyipes · 7 months

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It was the first time interacting with another human since the pandemic. I’d reached out to someone that I still half-trusted. Ryan. Safe Ryan. Dom Ryan. I had been not very nice to him. He was sensitive and I was immature. My feelings for him were always complicated. Usually frustrated because I knew he could give me everything I wanted but he never would. Annoying. I never could bring myself to ask for it either. Too proud to be vulnerable in front of him. Also annoying. He probably thought I was such a cunt. Men still like fucking cunts though. I was nervous when he came to the door. I couldn’t remember the last thing I had done to piss him off. Our trysts usually ended in a huff with us both saying mean things to each other. I think we were both similarly sensitive actually—I would always end up going cold and aloof trying to pretend like I didn’t care when things weren’t going my way instead of communicating. He would withdraw similarly because he was used to my avoidant bullshit and go cold and suspicious on me when I wanted reassurance. He had a special way of saying something cutting that would worm it’s way into the back of my mind and stick with me for a long time. I’d forget eventually and only remember the hot hot sex. I returned to him regularly and was usually the culprit when it came to emotional irresponsibility so I can’t say I didn’t deserve it.

His presence was simultaneously comforting and nerve-wracking. I was afraid the first time I met him and I was afraid then but I pretended not to be. He walked in and we sat on the couch in front of the tv, something inane droning in the background. His expression remained unreadable. I wondered why he still wanted to be in my vicinity. If I would ever not feel kinda guilty around him. If he hated me. If he thought about me at all. I always wished I could karmically redeem myself by letting him take everything out on me. A punishment I actually deserved. Some actual context for this weird pretend game I play with people where they hit me for no reason. Maybe doing it for a reason is abuse lol. He never seemed vindictive like that. Always so fucking maddeningly even-keeled. I don’t know why I wished he would be mad at me. Maybe I equate that to caring.

My thoughts were interrupted by him putting his warm hand on my leg. I let out a breath that I didn’t know I was holding and relaxed fractionally savoring the feeling of human contact that I had forgotten I had missed. I wanted more of it immediately. I wriggled awkwardly down the couch until my head was in his lap. He stroked my hair, tentatively at first, his fingers tracing lines on my scalp and forehead. They continued down the sides of my face and when they ghosted over my throat my breath hitched and my pulse quickened instantly. That’s all it takes to send me over the edge apparently. Fingers barely touching my neck. It’s weird how the most innocuous of touches from him could have more of an effect on me than someone else beating me black and blue.

I felt almost stupid, dazed by lust as his hand continued up my neck towards my mouth. My eyes kept going unfocused and felt glassy. I barely suppressed a moan when he pressed a single digit past my lips and my eyes fluttered shut as I sucked it eagerly. It was embarrassing how desperate he could make me feel. I doubt he was even fully aware of it. He had barely done anything to me and I was already a mess while he sat there impassive as ever. I swirled my tongue around the tip of his finger in a way I hoped was alluring. Then he kissed me. A good kiss. One that made me suspect maybe he didn’t hate me after all. His mouth made its way back to my throat and I probably couldn’t have told you my own name at this point. I was completely lost in sensation. My world had been narrowed down to his lips and tongue on my neck but i could feel him everywhere. I didn’t know erogenous zones worked like this. That I could feel every whisper of his lips and tongue on my neck directly on my cunt. Reduced to nerve endings. I can’t remember what I was doing at this point. I think my body was writhing uncontrollably on top of him and I couldn’t hold back the strange noises forming in the back of my throat—some combination of a moan a scream and a sigh. I almost orgasmed right there but stopped myself accidentally, trying for some reason to regain composure—it scared me to be so out of control of my own body. Embarrassed me even. That’s never happened to to me before. I probably would have cum if he said something to take me out of my head. “Look at what a fucking slut you are for me. No one else can make you feel this way. I know you need me.” In that moment he wouldn’t have been wrong.

I can hardly remember what happened after that point. I know he fucked me and I loved it but I feel like my brain shorted out when he was kissing my neck and I was a happy compliant puddle at that point. Anyways writing this down for posterity since that was probably the hottest foreplay of my entire life and it was borderline vanilla. He made me mad again and I’m not talking to him anymore but I’ll probably come crawling back to him in a few months or years like I always do. I wonder how long until I’ve burnt the bridge for good. He’s the only one I ever go back to after parting ways. Maybe I’ll stop someday.

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neverluckygoldfish · 8 months

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19 -

Black or white. Wrong or right. Good or bad. It’s all a spectrum, but I have a really hard time seeing it that way.

Today, I’m trying to hold both of these things & give them equal weight:

1. I am an addict. I am an alcoholic. I have hurt the people I love. I have made choices that put myself, my loved ones, and society in danger. Intentionally as well as unintentionally. I’ve acted in ways, with no regard for others. I’ve made people worry and caused them anxiety. I still have more to see about the ripple effects of my actions.

I give myself a little grace because I started using and drinking at a young age (13 to be precise) But I continued this pattern through the age of 29. Probably still wouldn’t have admitted it was slowly killing me if it didn’t all blow up in my face and I had no other choice but to face reality. That’s just the truth.

Even at 13, I knew I was making a bad decision (hi DARE) but I didn’t care because I thought I was better than it (lol I was kind of a “I know better than everyone else” little b at 13).

In a way, I thought I was invincible. I’ve been so consumed by my own pain that I didn’t take the time to truly acknowledge others’. I ignored them. It’s not all me me me me me. I say this to take accountability.

2. I grew up in a turbulent household. My father was an alcoholic and those are my earliest memories. I was terrified of him & embarrassed of him. He got sober and then became a drug addict. He took me on drug runs. Our backyard was covered in crack pipes. He forgot about me, he belittled me, he degraded me. He physically abused my mother and myself. He told me I wasn’t worthy and my family kind of enabled that narrative. He’s clean now and has been for years but he is so wrapped up in his own delusional world - we have no contact. I found out recently that he suffered horrible abuse and neglect as a child. The cycle continues.

It was just my parents and I, not much extended family. One grandma - well, she swallowed a lifetime of abuse and pain. She wasn’t entirely sane, as a result. The other one? Everything was my fault in her eyes, I was just like my dad. Why am I making our lives so hard? At 3, at 7, at 16, at 21, now. Ok grandma, I get it. I wasn’t an easy child. Everyone else was pretty much on the fringe, never really saw them or knew them.

My mom wasn’t around because she was busy supporting the whole household and trying to keep it all together. I still don’t know how she did it. She’s also very stoic — actually, it’s a cultural thing. We come from a background where stoicism is revered. We. Do. Not. Talk. About. Things. We overcome and we swallow it or we whisper behind closed doors and pretend everything is fine. Patriarchy rules. You can’t change your situation, bad things happen and we endure silently.

I see things from her perspective now, she was in an impossible situation. She’s only human. These days, we are a lot more honest and compassionate with each other. She is my anchor and I would give her the sun, if I could.

But I held a lot of anger and resentment towards her for most of my childhood. Because I felt no one had my back. I had to grow up and parent myself starting at a very young age. I had to figure out the world on my own. When things with my dad finally ended and she was ready to parent me, I was like “fuck you”. I was 14 years old and thought I knew everything.

So, I attribute a lot of the issues I struggle/d with to my upbringing. To not having the resources, the support, or a caregiver who could actually provide care. What about me? I never got a sorry. I got ridiculed and gaslit for being a walking trauma response as a child. No one explained that this wasn’t okay. Actually, no one really said much of anything besides getting upset when I wasn’t docile and quiet. My self-esteem is the depth of a teaspoon (but growing stronger, each day). So what about me? Where is my fucking apology? They were adults who were supposed to know better and do better.

It’s the not dealing with these issues and hiding everything until I felt like I was going to explode — that led me to make the choices I made, turning to alcohol & drugs. Like I sprinted towards them. I knew there would be consequences sure, but I didn’t see myself being where I am today. I didn’t see myself causing hurt, anguish, pain to people around me who love me. I didn’t see myself wishing for death and becoming suicidal. Honestly, I didn’t think anyone really gave a shit about me so I was free to deal however I wanted.

I see those things now. I’m uncovering more and more each day. I start to remember so many times I’ve used and forgotten about — it makes me feel sick to my stomach. It’s hard. I’m coming to terms with these choices and their consequences. No one is obliged to forgive me & I respect their boundaries. Apologies don’t erase pain. I feel embarrassed to admit these truths, because they seem ridiculous to me now. But I have to. I want to be better.

It’s hard to not think that the decisions made were entirely wrong or entirely right. That the people involved (myself included) are all good or all bad. How can I acknowledge that my childhood was difficult and shaped me as I am today, but that my choices are entirely my own? At what point, what age, is it acceptable to say I knew better but continued to choose self-destruction? How do I forgive myself?

Maybe the issue is that I’m focused on that instead of understanding how decisions & people are far more complex than an either/or. I’m struggling to reconcile these things as truth, altogether — to understand the gray.

I still have a long way to go.

#addiction #addiction recovery #sobriety #healing #self love #recovery #alcoholism #drug abuse #drug and alcohol addiction #recovering addict #compassion #vulnerability #sorry for being depressing #sorry for the rant

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stopthatnel · 2 years

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No Need To Be Direct (p2)

NSFW!

A/N: Literally no one asked for this but I wanted to and I’m currently having Gojo brain rot rn. Also Nanami is my main sling, but for the sake of this think of an AU where he doesn’t mind working late lol. ALSO I’m rusty on the whole writing thing so bear w me.

wc: 4.7k

m.list

tw: infidelity, pet names (princess, sweetheart, etc), fingers in your mouth (like once), choking (also like once), drinking, lying, degradation, praise, use of ‘sir’, begging, dirty talk, oral (f receiving, mention of m receiving but nah), low key a breeding kink (you tell me), creampies, you tell me if im missing any!

Part one here. p3.

It had been about a week since your… situation with Gojo happened. He pretended like nothing happened after, and you two continued to enjoy your day, as if the tension wasn’t there. He drove you home, walked you to your door, and left with a hug. Part of you contemplated inviting him in, but given the events that had transpired a few hours ago, you decided against it. Until you cleared your mind and figured things out, at the very least.

Nanami was sprawled out on the couch, while you were in the kitchen whipping up a quick lunch. Nanami was never fond of big meals, he preferred to keep himself light. However, this didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy a delicacy, especially if he had the time. The TV played the local news, serving as background noise, as Nanami scrolled aimlessly throughout his emails.

“Do you want to eat at the table?” You called out, peering over to steal a glance at him. “It’s up to you.” He mumbled, just loud enough to hear. You sighed and brought over the plates and utensils, rushing back to grab two glasses. Whiskey on ice, and a glass of aged riesling.

“Lunch is ready!”

Nanami walked over, joining you at the table. He gently grabs your hand and places a gentle kiss on your knuckles. “It looks wonderful.” He hums. You both ate in silence, an exception made for the clattering of utensils. You clear your throat, pushing your plate away from you, while pulling your wine glass towards you. “How’s work?” You ask, almost dreadingly. Nanami smiles,

“It’s great actually! This promotion has definitely given me the opportunity to focus on the technical aspect of the job. Of course, it doesn’t eliminate actually being out in the field, but it’s definitely a best of both worlds.” You manage a smile, and nod. “That’s great. I’m happy for you.” Nanami cocks his brow, oh no.

That’s very unlike you. Nanami knows, in great detail, of your disdain towards his work. He knows the work itself was never the issue, but definitely the amount of time it takes. “I’ve missed you.” You say. Nanami looks up at you with an unreadable emotion on his face. He chuckles, “I’m right here baby.”

You tighten your grip on your glass, “I know. And here I am, still missing you.” What is he not getting? It felt as though he was oblivious to you. “(Y/N),” he sighs, not this again. What couldn’t you understand? He works to provide. There isn’t a single thing that you ask for that he can’t get for you, he’ll go to the end of the world to bring you a tart if you asked for it. If you said jump, he’d only ask how high. Money doesn’t grow on trees, so how could you expect him to give up his work?

Ding.

Nanami glanced down at his phone, only to see a message from none other, Kiyotaka.

New Message

Kiyotaka: Semi-Grade 1 cursed energy detected in Shibuya Prefecture. Please hurry, I will send you coordinates shortly.

Nanami stood up abruptly, making his way over to the bedroom. He quickly gets dressed and heads for the door only to find you standing there with his keys in your hands. Your brows are furrowed, and tears threaten to spill from your eyes. “Are you fucking kidding me?” You seethe.

“(Y/N), I don’t have time for thi-“

“You NEVER have time, Nanami.”

He grabs your shoulder and gently takes his keys from your hand. “Please (Y/N). We can talk more when I get home, I prom-“ a scoff escapes your lips. You wipe your eyes, smooth your hair down, and take a deep breath.

Whatever grip you had on this matter has snapped, there was no longer any willpower to continue arguing on the subject. He will never listen. An almost eerie smile curled at your lips, as you looked up at him with a mind numbing stare. “Go ahead, Nanamin. Go beat some curse ass.”

You walk away from the door to your bedroom, leaving a confused, but still rushed, Nanami at the door. The door slams and the engine revs in the driveway, until you can’t hear it down the street.

Whatever. What did I even expect?

————

Gojo sat in his bedroom, scrolling mindlessly through Instagram. Liking a few pictures here and there and ultimately just passing time.

For what?

Since that day, he’d been itching to hear from you once again. He didn’t want to encourage your behavior, he wanted you to come to your own conclusions; that you craved him as much as he craved you. You could play your part in Nanami’s domesticated fantasy, but all good things come with a catch. And Gojo knew what the catch was. He’s known you since you were an intern, before the fancy dinner dates. He’s watched you go from throwing back as many drinks as you could possibly handle to abiding your time aimlessly in the little condo your boyfriend owned. He remembers on the nights out with him, you’d come stumbling back to your booth,

“Toruu, give me a hug!”

Attention was all you ever wanted, and he knew, if you couldn’t get it from one person, in no time you’ll be searching for it in another. A text message dinged on his phone and he quickly glanced up to see who it was. A smile formed on his lips as he realized it was none other than you.

New message

(Y/N): Hey, are you busy?

Gojo set his phone down on the dresser and got up, making a slow trip to his kitchen. He grabbed a glass, filled it with water and proceeded to make what was typically a one minute walk into two. The Princess could wait, he chuckles to himself. Piece by piece, everything began to fall into place. He picked up his phone and messaged back.

Gojo: Not anymore, what can I do for you sweetheart?

All of Gojo’s moves were calculated. He knew Nanami knew your password, and he didn’t want any more trouble than you did.

Ding.

New message

(Y/N): I need some cheering up.

Gojo: Why don’t you come over in about an hour? I’ll order some take out, you bring the wine. Although I do have some vodka, if you can still hang that is. ;)

New Message

(Y/N): Please, mr I get drunk off a bud light seems to have the nerve.

Gojo scoffed, before tapping at his keyboard dramatically.

Gojo: I swear on whatever, that bud light tasted like rubbing alcohol.

Ding.

New message

(Y/N): Yeah, yeah. I’ll see you soon hotshot.

Gojo smiled and stretched his arms out, locking his phone and dropping it on the bed. Some cleaning wouldn’t hurt, he thinks.

—————

You found yourself sitting in front of your mirror in only a towel, wondering if this was the best thing for you to do. Since settling down with Nanami, most of your social life had dwindled, leaving you but three friends to your name. One of them moved upstate to spend time with their grandparents, and the other has a child demanding every second of their time. Which only left you with one person, the same person who had you drinking a smoothie with your thighs clenched to the heavens.

Despite your argument with Nanami, the cold shower you took unironically helped you cool down. But the anger inside of you was filling a void you didn’t know existed. One of many layers, and the top one was Nanami himself. It’s not like I’m going there with the intent to fuck him, you think, I’m just in need of some comfort of a friend. Your lacy undergarments said otherwise.

You slipped on a fitted black tank top and a pleated white tennis skirt. You grabbed a tote on your way out your room to the kitchen, and carefully placed the bottle of wine you had opened earlier that day. You rolled your eyes, in growing resentment. Couldn’t even finish my wine, you think, glancing over at your glass. Opening your fridge, you grabbed the leftover pie you had made over the weekend. You weren’t going to show up empty handed.

Grabbing one last look at yourself in the mirror by the door, you slip on your shoes and sigh. No intentions, (Y/N). You’re only going to hang out.

Upon arriving at Gojo’s, you find him already at the door waving his arms frantically. “(Y/N)! Hurry up the foods going to get cold!” You cock your brow and look around you, seeing the delivery driver getting in his car. You roll your eyes and quicken your step, “They literally just got here!” You exclaim back. “Hurry up!”

A short while later you find yourselves leaning over the kitchen island, each with a glass of wine, and laughing like there’s no tommorow.

“The little shit really thought he could one up you, huh?” You laugh, struggling to regain your breath. “The worst part is,” Gojo says between chews, “is that a part of me feels like he did! Don’t tell him I said that though, I’ll never live it down.” A comfortable silence consumed the air after the laughter had died down.

“So, what do you want to do?” You asked, dropping the crust of your third slice. “I mean the plan was to eat and get drunk. I don’t know about you, but wine isn’t the best to get shit faced on.” Gojo replies humorously.

”Like you’d know, your still on your first glass!” Admittedly, you were definitely between your third or fourth drink . Your body had grown hot, your cheeks were flushed, but you weren’t slurring your words or stumbling around. It would take a lot more than that to get you like that. Gojo scoffs, “Again, I’m saving room for the good stuff.”

“What’s the good stuff, Svedka?”

“Hey, Svedka might not be the most expensive but it’s damn sure an ol’ reliable.” You roll eyes and tap a finger nail on your glass, “Hit me, big boy.”

“Oh no, no, no. We’re doing shots, little girl.” He teases.

Before you know it, you and Gojo are on the ground in his bedroom, one too many shots in, playing an aggressive game of UNO.

Gojo was obviously cheating. How did you know? You just did. Because how else could he win three games in a row? You clutch your cards close to your chest, watching in disbelief as he throws down a plus four.

“Looks like round five is about to be all for me. We should start betting on these games! Make it more fun.” He exclaims, already pulling four cards out of the deck. “Slow down sir,” you mumble, looking through your hand, “I got something for that.”

“You can’t put down a plus two on a plus four, how many times do I have to say this?” Gojo whines.

“Right. So pick up eight.” You say confidently. “By the way, the color’s green.” Gojo stares at you in disbelief, rummaging through his hand before unwillingly picking up 8 cards. “This is complete bullshit.” He frowns. An uncontrollable giggle rips through you, “Does the poor baby not like a taste of his own medicine?”

Gojo remains silent, and there’s a sudden tension in the air. He rolls his shoulders back, cracking his neck slightly, motioning for you to play. The tension you felt was similar to that of the diner, which tugged at the strings in your stomach. No need to panic, you reassured yourself, nothing is happening. You play your card and notice a glimmer of mischief in the white haired man in front of you. He places a blank wild card on the pile,

“Pick up the entire deck, or take off your shirt. The color’s blue.” You tilt your head, something is definitely happening. “Take off my shirt? What?” You mimic. Gojo places his cards face down, and leans back onto his hands. “Or pick up the entire deck.” He repeats cooley. You eye the deck, that has to be at least 25 cards left, and you eye Gojo. He’s serious. It would’ve been obvious from miles away what the true intentions were, yet you kept convincing yourself otherwise. This man knew you craved the attention, harboring his proof from merely the week before. “Come on sweetheart, we don’t have all day.” Gojo chuckles.

When you think about it vaguely, you were drunk, and had zero to three against this man. Your competitive nature wouldn’t allow you to be demeaned to picking up that many cards, you were practically handing him a win. But when you look at it more detailed-

Fuck it.

Your hands reach inside your skirt, pulling your tank top from inside and over your head. The cool air hits your bare skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps over your chest. Heat began to trickle down your thighs, as well as up to your cheeks. Gojo hums, returning back to his original position. “Did you wear that for me?” He asks slyly, hungrily eyeing your lacy bra. You choke a bit on your own spit, quickly putting down a card to avoid answering his question. “Your turn!” You blurt. Gojo tsked loudly, pushing the pile of cards to the side and pulling yours out of your hands. “Now (Y/N),” he leans closer. “You know I don’t like being ignored.” Gojo grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his sparkling eyes.

You feel your heartbeat quicken and breathing get heavier. “Did you wear that for me?” He repeats.

“Yes.”

Mere seconds after you utter your answer, Gojo is straddling your hips and enveloping you in a passionate kiss. Your hands gripped at his waist as his roamed your body, touching anything he could. His lips were warm, succulent, and desperate. His tongue swiped at your bottom lip, you opened your mouth and gave him dominance. He cups your cloth cladded breast and leans forward into you, pushing you down to the floor while holding himself up with his other hand. You feel your panties are getting soaked by the second, you’re arching your back to get as close to him as possible. Your mind roams all the ways you think this man could take you, would he be rough? Would he be gentle? Is he selfish? Is he giving?

Your thoughts are interrupted by Gojo pulling away from the kiss, only to find him fixated on your breasts. He runs his fingers over the lace and pulls the cups down exposing your nipples to his ravenous stare. “So pretty,” he mumbles, rolling the perked buds in between his fingers. Your breathing hitched and your eyes closed, desperate to be touched. “I- fuck… Gojo please...”

He quickly gets up, and extends his hand down to you. You grab his hand in confusion and eye him suspiciously when he takes a seat on the bed.

“Strip. I want to admire all of you.” You hastily get out of your clothing, except for your underwear, and take a step towards him. He grabs your hips and stops you, roughly tugging down the last remaining article of clothing. “You just don’t know how,” he begins, standing up and spinning you around to switch places, “to take some fucking directions, huh?” A whimper falls from your lips as you fall back onto his bed. You look at him with pleading eyes, a feeling that’s taken too long for you to remember, the desire of being ravished. Gojo was staring intently, practically fucking you with his eyes only. He slowly drops to his knees, and begins feathering kisses down your thighs, right below your sex. Your hips roll forward in hopes of getting Gojo closer to where you want him to be. He takes the supple skin of your thighs in between his teeth and nips softly, causing you to whimper.

“Open those legs for me princess, let me see that pretty pussy.” You oblige happily and scoot down a bit, your heat aching for his touch. “Oh fuck…” Gojo groans, “You’re so wet for me baby, I’ve barely touched you. Tell me, how much have you been thinking about this?” You whimper in response and bring your hands up to your face. You don’t want to admit how much you’ve thought about this, it was embarrassing. You thought about every way this man could please you, as selfish as it seems. You wanted nothing more in that moment to be falling apart in his hands. A sharp smack sounded against your folds, causing you to yelp. “Answer me.” He commands.

“So much, sir. I’ve thought about it so much. I want you… so bad right now.” You whine. Gojo chuckles, “I can see that. Act up one more time and you’ll have to keep thinking about it.” He lifts your thighs up and blows a cool breath onto your dripping cunt, squeezing them when you squirm. Taking his fingers, he slid them up from your hole to your bud and spread his digits to reveal it to himself. He gently wraps his lips around the nub, a sigh of relief filling the air. His tongue is tracing shapes, flattening, suckling, he’s eating you out as if though he’d never have the chance to do it again. Your hands reach into his locks, pulling him closer.

“Oh fuck,” he moans into you. “You’re so sweet, princess.” Gojo brings his fingers up to your hole, feeling it clench against nothing. You whine and arch your back, “Please Gojo-“ He pulls away from your heat. “What was it you were calling me earlier?”

“Sir?”

“Let’s keep that, yeah pretty?”

“Yes sir! Please sir, I wan-“

Gojo knew what you wanted. And he was going to give it to you. Starting with a single digit, he pushes into your cunt and groans at the sound of how wet you were. A moan falls from your lips and you tighten against his finger as he thrusts up against your sweet spot. “Fuck, yes, just like that sir!” You whine. A knot in your stomach began to form, your mind was swirling from the stimulation against your clit. He adds another finger, scissoring it within you in an attempt to stretch you out. You rut against his fingers and grab your breasts, pinching your nipples as you feel yourself coming closer to your climax.

“Fuck, fuck, don’t stop! I’m gonna c-“

Gojo withdraws his fingers and puts his hands on your thighs, spreading them out. He proceeds to hollow his cheeks around your sensitive nub, drawing generous circles around your clit, all while you curl your toes and roll your eyes into the back of your head. A cry escapes your lips as you come undone; you tug at his hair and thank him repeatedly,

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Gojo smiles against your clit, relishing in how you’ve come apart with so little. “You must’ve been so frustrated, poor girl.” He says, as he gets up. He takes off his clothes achingly slowly, you might’ve just had some relief but that was just temporary. You needed more, you wanted to drain him of all he had to give you and then do it again. “That explains why you’ve been so needy, isn’t that so princess?” You whine and reach your hand down to your pussy, running your fingers through the sticky mess between your folds.

“Yes sir, I’ve been needy. I still am sir, I need more.” You say with pleading eyes. You lower your gaze to Gojo’s cock, which he has his fingers wrapped around the base. His cock is angry and swollen at the tip, leaking with precum. Before you could think to get on your knees and relieve him, he pushes your knees up further to your chest, holding you in a mating press. His large frame towers over you as he taps the head onto your clit, sliding it up and down taking the moisture you’ve generously supplied. “Hold them up for me.” He murmurs, lining his cock up to your entrance. In a swift motion he’s filling you up, and you’re clamping down on his cock in surprise. You cry out and spread your legs a bit in an attempt to get comfortable as Gojo begins thrusting in a torturous pace.

You take in the sight before you; a disheveled man with his head thrown back, filling you to the brim with all of his cock. His chest is glistening with sweat, his lips are plump and red, in the state of pure bliss. “Fuck, you’re so good…” he whines. His slow pace wasn’t for you, it was for him. He’s wanted this for so long, so badly. If anything, he was the needy one. He wanted to be the one to pump you full of his seed, and have you cumming over and over on his cock until you cried. Even then he wouldn’t stop. He wanted to have you broken, wrapped around his fingers forgetting all but him. But all of that came with discipline, and what would that mean if he took it all at that very moment, with no regard? Nothing.

An almost feral look took over his face as he grabbed your ankles for stability, and there it was. He slammed into your dripping cunt, basking in the sounds of the squelching against his pelvis and the cries falling out of your mouth. He brought down a hand to carefully flick the sensitive bundle of nerves between your folds, grinning when he heard your breath hitch. You’re squirming underneath him in a state of euphoria, eyes rolled back and shut, babbling over and over about what seemed like nonsense. Gojo takes the hand working dutifully at your clit to grab your face and yank it towards him.

“Look at me,” he growls. “I’m the one fucking you, yeah? Look at me, slut.” Your eyes unscrew themselves open as you stare into the cesspools of blue, pupils dilated and ravenous. He squeezes your cheeks together and shoves his fingers into your mouth, rewarding you with a smile when you suck them. “You’re so tight for me baby, this is all for me right?”

“Yes, sir! It’s for you, take all of it!” You cry around his fingers, tears pricking at your eyes. Gojo’s pace was relentless, it felt like he was molding your pussy to fit his cock and his cock only. It’s been so long since you felt such an unforgiving amount of desire and thrill and you knew this wouldn’t last forever, you savored every moment of it. His cock was mocking you, giving you something you could only hope to receive again. Unless you do it again. The thought of having multiple rendezvous with this man was enough to have you tightening around his cock and letting out a whine. Your fingers had turned white and slippery, your thighs slipping away from your hold as you dug your nails into them in an attempt to keep them still.

Gojo lets out a breathy chuckle, pulling his fingers out of your mouth and grabbing your face again. “Tell me sweetheart,” he begins, a devilish smile forming in his lips. She can only get this from me, Gojo thinks. “Is the old man not fucking you right? Is that why you're so needy? I feel you clenching around me, you’re about to cum. You need this, right?”

“Oh shit, shit- yes! I need you sir, I need you to keep fucking me like this, please!” Your mind has gone blank and you say only the things that’ll please him, because you’re a good girl. You feel the knot in your stomach growing tighter and tighter, his cock bullying that sweet spot inside of you repeatedly. “Fuck yes,” Gojo groans through grit teeth, “Cum on my cock, be a good girl. Shit, I can’t think straight, your little cunnys gripping me so tight-“

A gasp escapes your lips as you feel that tension snap, rolling your head back and closing your eyes. Gojo grabs your exposed throat and lets out a feral groan, “Look at me when you cum, let me see you cum princess.” Your eyes lock as he fucks you through your orgasm. His thrusts grow sloppy and desperate and you feel him twitch inside of you. “Can I cum in you, pretty?” He asks, leaning back and watching himself disappear and reappear in between your folds. “Mmm-“ you whine, overstimulated and still riding out the waves of your climax. Gojo leans forward and pushes your arms off your thighs, letting them fall at your sides as he places each arm down next to your shoulders.

Gojo places his lips against yours, slowing his pace until he got an answer. He presses his forehead gently against yours, maintaining your eye contact. “You gonna let me fill this pretty pussy up? Hmm?” He whispers as he watches the pleasure enveloping your face. “Yes, please. Fill me up with your cum, sir.” You whimper against his lips. A groan soon follows as Gojo stills his hips, pushing himself as deep as he could into you. He leans in for another kiss, splaying his fingers through your hair, wanting to absorb and savor the moment. He waited until you stopped clenching around him to pull out, admiring the state you were in.

He glances at the clock on his nightstand, 11:36pm. He knew it was late and that Nanami would’ve been home half an hour ago. Otherwise, you were one orgasm short of being fucked out. But he’ll save that for next time. He savors one last look at his work before rushing over to the restroom to grab some wipes. He comes back and cleans you up, peppering kisses across your thighs. “You did so good for me sweetheart. Next time we’ll see how much more you can take.” He murmurs between kisses. A sigh escapes your lips as you get up, “Then I can’t wait.” You say.

Your phone begins to ring, snatching you out of your blissful state. You scan your eyes around the room, seeing the brightness of the screen underneath your skirt which was tossed haphazardly near the bed. Gojo tosses your phone to you, and your heart seemingly stops when you see who it was.

Incoming call…

Nanami Bear <3

Your mouth dries up as your finger hovers over the decline button. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…” you mumble. If you didn’t answer the phone, that would only look suspicious. It’s been about forty minutes since Nanami’s first call, thirty from the last text. You quickly answered the call. “Hey! What’s up?” You say, feigning your happiness to answer the phone.

“Where are you?” Nanami deadpans. “I- I’m with Nikki! She finally got a babysitter for the night and we went out!” You stutter. Gojo squints his eyes at you before turning away to grab his shorts off the floor. She’s getting her brains fucked by someone who actually gives a fuck, he thinks. Nanami pauses on the other line, then takes a deep breath. “Come home.”

Click.

A feeling of sheer panic took over your body as you stumbled over your own feet trying to throw on your clothes. Your breathing was heavy as you searched desperately for your underwear, only for your gaze to settle on Gojo holding it up in the air in between his fingers. Why is he playing at a time like this? You think. You grab the underwear from him and shimmy them up your legs, giving him a hug, which you’ll definitely facepalm at later. “I’ll call you, but I have to go!” You yell as you’re at his door, throwing on your shoes.

On the drive home, you seemed to convince yourself that there’s no possible way Nanami could know where you were. You racked your brain to figure out a plan B, settling on something along the lines of you were upset and needed to cool off and went to get some drinks. You knew he’d worry if you said you were alone so you panicked and lied. Mostly the truth.

Nanami’s sitting at the dinner table, across from the dishes that have been left out since earlier that day.

“I called Nikki. She told me to tell you that she misses you, and would love to hang out. She says three weeks is too long for ‘best friends’ to not see each other.”

#gojo smut #gojou satoru x you #jjk smut #nanami x reader #jjk nanami #jjk gojo

148 notes · View notes

jackrrabbit · 4 years

Text

Runaways /// Dabi x f!Reader (18+)

Summary: You were like an older sister to Dabi back when the two of you were teen runaways together; now that he’s found you as an adult, it’s not going to be so easy to get rid of him.

A/N: I could write a term paper on all of Dabi’s pathologies in this fic...I forgot how much I love writing smutty angst. Good shit 👌

I was planning on making this a ficlet so it’s kinda structured like that even though it ended up a full-length piece. Also, Dabi says some bullshit about sex work that I absolutely do not agree with or condone so please keep that in mind.

➠ see also: [homeowners association]

Tags/warnings: Dabi victimizes you, noncon/dubcon, light yandere, threats, cheating, NTR kinda?, mentions of past sex work, degradation, rough sex (breath play, impact play, crying), mild violence, very brief mentions of past child abuse in the Todoroki household, sad stuff/angst idk lol, *Daddy Issues by The Neighborhood plays in the background*

Dabi would know you anywhere.

You’re different now, which makes sense. It’s been years. Your old uniform of raggedy denim and hand-me-down leather has been replaced with a prim linen dress, designer label at the collar. You used to dye your hair religiously (it was neon pink when he saw you last) but now it’s styled back to your natural shade, a color he only saw back then when your roots grew out. You smell good, expensive. It does take him a second to recognize you without smudged pencil eyeliner drawn under your eyes like in the old days, but once he catches your gaze the realization is immediate.

It’s you. You. You.

You recognize him too, but your reaction is different—shock, then panic; you tug the arm of the man at your side, urging him to walk faster so you can pass Dabi on the sidewalk. The rejection stings for a second, but he isn’t too surprised. You did abandon him, after all.

Dabi doesn’t let it bother him. You’re not going to get away that easy. He pulls you into conversation, grinning when you reluctantly introduce him to your companion (who is, apparently, your husband) as an old friend from school. You didn’t go to school—Dabi knows that, and you know that, but your husband doesn’t. Which means your husband isn’t aware of your sordid past as a runaway.

This is going to be fun.

Once he knows you’re in town, he doesn’t have much trouble finding you. Your husband is a very wealthy man, well-known in this city now that he’s moved here. So this is what you’ve been up to all these years? Shacking up with some ugly motherfucker who’s at least 20 years your senior because he can afford to dress you up in pretty things and take you on overseas vacations? Dabi has to admit, he wouldn’t have thought it of you. Back when he knew you, you were so sincere, such an idealist, even in your darkest nights.

Then again…you always were willing to get your hands dirty in exchange for a warm meal and a place to sleep. Maybe you haven’t changed as much as you think.

Dabi comes to your house in the middle of the day when your husband’s at work and you’re stuck at home because that’s what you are now, a housewife. From a cocksucking whore to a pretty housewife with a dirty little secret. He’s getting hard just thinking about it as he watches your internal debate on whether to let him in or not. Eventually guilt wins out and you usher him inside, hoping the neighbors didn’t see a known villain lurking on your doorstep.

You make Dabi coffee (and aww, you remember exactly how he likes it). He gets you to talking, and you don’t seen surprised to learn about his current line of work; when he presses you, you admit that you’ve been following him in the news. Your life, in comparison, has been wholly uninteresting: you met a man, he proposed, and you married him. Very little has happened to you since. After a long silence you timidly apologize to Dabi for leaving him behind when you two were teenagers, and he tells you he understands.

He doesn’t forgive you.

Overall, things are good, he tells you. But you know, sometimes he misses the old days. Being on the run with you, stealing food from gas stations, breaking into fancy summer homes and pretending the two of you lived there. Stitching up each other’s cuts, because one of you had always gotten in a fight in the past few days. Sometimes he still has dreams about the smell of the balm you used on his fresh burns…and your cool hands, smoothing gently across the tender skin on his face, but he doesn’t say that.

You look down into your monogrammed coffee mug and tell him you know what he means.

When you turn your head like that, Dabi can see the tiny dots running up the side of your ear where your old piercings have scarred over from lack of use. Do you remember when he gave them to you? You did his first, running a needle through the lonely flame of your lighter (he offered to use his quirk, but it was still hard for him to control then so you declined) and then threading the metal through his ear. You promised it would only hurt for a second, and you were right, so he let you do the others.

Then you offered to let him do yours. Just one on each ear—you already had an impressive collection of piercings, but you wanted to let him return the favor, so he did. You were older and more experienced and had lived on the streets for longer, so when he held the needle in his hand and heard your voice saying you trusted him, it was the first time he ever thought of you as fragile, something delicate, something that he was capable of harming.

He chose twin helix piercings for you, cresting the shell of each ear, silver band rings to match his. When they were done you pulled him to a mirror and asked him what he thought. It hadn’t been long since he got the worst burns on his face (the ones under his eyes, wrapping around his chin and down his neck) and he was still getting used to the knowledge that the ugly, wrinkled scars were never going to heal. “I look like…” he started.

A monster. A freak. A victim.

“A badass,” you said. “You look fucking cool. Any asshole who wants to pick a fight with you will take one look and know you’ve been through worse shit than whatever they can dish out, and that’s something to be proud of.”

Now that Dabi thinks about it, he probably wanted you even then.

…But the longer he reminisces, the more nostalgia’s going to distract him. He came here for a reason, and it wasn’t to have coffee with you and talk about the good old days. What he’s about to take from you—what he’s about to make you give—is long overdue.

You’ve still got a little fight in you. Dabi likes that. But you’ve gone soft, filling out and losing muscle in places where you used to be lean and hard from the constant running and fighting of your old lifestyle. Besides, even if you were as strong as you’d been back then, he’d still be stronger than you—he’s a man now, and it’s incredible how small and weak you seem now that he can look at you as a man.

Were your punches always this light? No way…and your wrists couldn’t have always been this delicate. It’s really no trouble at all for him to wrestle you down to the couch and pin you there so he can tear off your stupid little housewife dress and tug your panties down past your ankles.

Once he’s got you fully naked, though, you pretty much give up trying to fight him off. It’s sad, really—like you’re remembering the past, remembering all the times you let other men hold you and fuck you just so you could have enough money to take yourself and Dabi to McDonalds for a few days. And now look, you’re plenty well-fed, but Dabi’s the one holding you down against your will. Funny how things change like that.

He does appreciate your submission, since it gives him the chance to get a decent look at you. The years have been kind—you look so much healthier than you used to. No more visible ribcage stretching out your skin; no more unhealthy pallor from going outside only at night. Your hands are as soft and manicured as if you’ve never done a day’s work in your life, a far cry from the bitten nails and bloody knuckles of your youth. It’s good to see you like this, and he lingers for a second, drinking in the sight of you and committing you to memory.

Dabi’s pictured this moment for years. He used to think he’d savor it, be sweet with you, slow and gentle to show you what you were missing with the trashy guys you used to hang out with. But now, hey—he’s the trashy one, he’s the one who wants to hurt you and own you and ruin you. May as well act like it.

Your husband doesn’t fuck you like this, does he?

You’re unbelievably tight for a former whore. Dabi can barely hold out when he first pushes into you, licking the tears off your cheeks when apparently it hurts too much for you to keep up a brave face. It takes real effort to fuck himself all the way into you, pushing past the tense squeeze of your muscles while you…well, you’re not exactly wet, but he’ll get you there. As soon as his hips are grinding up against yours, he’s hitching your legs up on his shoulders and pounding you into your stuffy antique couch so deeply that he thinks it might splinter into pieces underneath the two of you.

God, you’re so, so, tight. Dabi feels like a virgin with his cock buried inside you, biting his lip so he doesn’t cum in thirty seconds and thrusting into you with a rhythm that comes from nothing less than pure animal instinct. And you’re getting into it too. Can you tell that your pleading and begging him to get off you is turning into moaning? Can you feel your hips bucking weakly back against his, reverting to the position of the submissive bitch your body remembers even if your mind has tried to forget?

It’s perfect, right and good and perfect, everything Dabi’s been waiting for since he first knew what it was to want someone—no, not just someone. You. It’s always been you. A person never forgets their first love, right? It’s perfect, except—except you won’t look at him, you keep looking off to the side and sniffling, and that’s not going to cut it. So he slows down and wrenches your head back to center and makes you kiss him, sliding his tongue over yours and trying to see if he can feel the place where you used to have a piercing there, too. It’s kind of thrilling, actually—wondering whenever his face dips into yours if you’re going to bite him, if he’ll come back from you with blood in his mouth.

He’s only got to thumb over your clit a couple times before you’re clamping down on him, your body begging to be used and abused. Your husband hasn’t been treating you right, though Dabi doubts the old bastard can even get it up without a blue pill. Sure, you look like a sweet little doll, so darling and delicate and breakable, but Dabi knows you better than that. You’re strong, you can take it. He knows you want it rough, so that’s how he’ll give it to you—and hey, hey, he can feel your cunt quivering around him—you’re cumming, aren’t you? So you like it. You like it.

He knew he wasn’t going to last long before, but when you cum and tighten and squeal so high he thinks you could lose your voice, the tension in his abdomen rises up and he digs his fingers into your hips and—shit, you’re saying something, what are you saying? You’re pleading, begging him not to cum inside—but, ohhhhhh fuck he can’t help it, he can’t, he can’t, he’s cumming all the way deep into your tight little snatch, cockhead jutting up at your cervix, fucking his semen all the way through you until your slit is smeared white from top to bottom.

Stop crying. Dabi’s sick of hearing you cry.

You’re still pretty nimble, even though your current exercise regimen probably doesn’t extend beyond periodic jogs around your neighborhood and weekly pilates with all the other bored trophy wives. He’s kind of surprised when as soon as he lifts himself off of you, you have the strength to roll off the couch and scramble around on the floor for your clothing.

You don’t say anything, which he wasn’t expecting. You don’t scream at him, demand that he leave, or ask him how he could do this to you after everything the two of you went through together. You probably still think of yourself as an older sister when it comes to him.

When you’d first met the scarred kid trying and failing to live off the streets, you knew he wasn’t cut out for this. He’d known pain before, plenty of pain (icy-blue fire roasting the skin off his face—spiral fracture from callused hands twisting his arm behind his back—cold, aching muscles after what he thinks is the fifth hour spent locked in a closet), but he’d never known hunger. Hunger was a different kind of beast, one that would chew the kid up and spit him out and leave him broken if you didn’t take him under your wing, so you did.

It wasn’t like you had much of anything to spare, but you made it work. For a few years. He didn’t talk at first, but he took what you gave him, so you gave him what you could: food, if you had it; a place to sleep at night; the knowledge you’d gathered in your own years as a runaway on how he was supposed to survive in a world that didn’t care whether he lived or rotted away in a gutter. You cared.

Until you didn’t.

‘Going to be traveling alone for a while. Don’t wait for me. I’m sorry,’ your note had read. You left it in his backpack along with $43 in cash—not much, but he knew it was more than you could afford. It was all you had.

And now you have all of this! Don’t you feel lucky? You have the rich husband who barely looks at you, the big house with so many empty unused rooms it makes him sick, more food than you could possibly eat in one lifetime. All of that, and you also have Dabi’s semen leaking out of your cunt. It’s a real rags-to-riches story, he thinks.

Dabi picks a cigarette out of his jacket and you stop fixing up the buttons on your dress to ask him not to light it inside. How will you explain the smell to your husband? Every move you make, every syllable that comes out of your mouth, is weighed down by despair. You look like you’ve been beaten.

He lights the cigarette anyway.

///

Before he had you the first time, Dabi thought once would be enough. Pretty naive, huh?

He makes it his mission to fuck you in every room of your husband’s gluttonously enormous mansion (what with your history Dabi has a hard time thinking of the house as yours, and considering the way you tiptoe around and seem like you’re afraid to move so much as a vase, he suspects you feel the same). There’s a lot of rooms.

When he shows up at your door again you don’t even bother to hear him out, instead just trying to shut it on him, but he forces his way in. You wouldn’t want to make him mad, would you? Not when he’s got such a filthy secret hanging over your head? Will your husband keep paying for your designer shopping trips when he knows you’re a street rat who used to steal everything she wore? Will he still kiss you goodnight when Dabi tells him you used to wrap those pretty lips around strangers’ cocks for money?

If you want Dabi to keep quiet, you’re going to have to convince him the best way you know how. A cockwhore is a cockwhore. That’s not the kind of stain you get to wipe away with time and distance and expensive clothing.

In the kitchen: standing up, your back to his front and your hands barely holding you up on the counter, so hard and rough and deep that the dishes are rattling in the pantry. One of your teacups falls out of the glass china cabinet and shatters into a million fragments in a four foot radius over the tiled floor. Neither of you notice until after. Blunt red lines press themselves into the tops of your thighs where he’s shoving your body into the edge of the counter and there are bruises on your tits from how hard he’s groping you.

In the dining room: sitting on the edge of the table, one of your legs hiked up beside you and the other on a chair while Dabi kneels on the ground in front of you, his head between your thighs and his tongue flicking over your pussy. You start off thinking that you’re going to have to sanitize the entire mahogany surface before you can eat off it again and then he licks his lips and sucks on your throbbing clit and you don’t really think about anything else after that.

In your husband’s study: doggy-style on the floor in front of the fireplace, facedown, his body folded over yours, pressing you so deep into the tacky lion-skin rug that you can taste it. He sighs in your ear—actually, you’re not sure if it’s a sigh or a growl—and his hand comes up to cover yours. You feel the metal stitches and the rough burned skin scraping on your own and it reminds you that it’s him. It’s Dabi.

(A few days after his 13th birthday, the Dabi you used to know told you that he was going to dye his hair—he wanted to be unrecognizable, and you understood, so you found some old scissors and stole hair dye from the pharmacy and you spent three long hours chopping his hair into rough spikes and painting it black. When you washed the dye out of his hair in the sink, your hands were stained inky black too. When he saw, he looked worried and weaved his fingers in with yours and asked if the dye would hurt your skin if it stayed on too long.

And you looked back at this kid—small for his age then, burned by his own quirk, trying so hard to look older and tougher than any 13-year-old should have to be, and you thought to yourself, I would die for you.)

Now you hear Dabi growling out your name and squeezing your hand as he reaches his climax and you think, I would kill you if I could.

///

Dabi saves the master bedroom for last.

Your husband is hosting a party at your house. Dabi knows because you begged him not to come today, looking up at him with those doe-like eyes, offering things you never would have offered if it weren’t important to you that he stay away on this particular evening. But he still comes to crash it. He arrives just minutes before your husband does, and you have barely enough time to tuck him away on the dark bedroom balcony and pull the curtains closed before your husband is opening the door and greeting you.

Dabi settles himself into one of the tasteful Adirondack chairs on the balcony and listens to your voice, or at least what he can hear of it through the sliding glass door. You’re sweeter with your husband than you are with Dabi, and he should’ve known you’d be, but it still makes him hate your husband more than he already did.

On the other hand, there’s something strained and high and nervous in the way you’re speaking. Probably because your husband is standing about twenty feet away from the man you’re cheating on him with.

It takes a while for the two of you to dress for the party, but finally Dabi hears you tell your husband that you’d like to take a little longer to get ready and bid him goodbye. “Love you,” you say to the old man as he leaves the room, so casually Dabi might not have heard it if he wasn’t listening.

Then you’re opening the door and ushering him inside and telling him anxiously that he has to get out before anyone sees him. But, oh, you look nice like this, dolled up in your evening gown and makeup and diamonds, trying to pull him to the door even though you must know by now that he’s not going to leave it there. Instead of following, he backs you up onto the bed and peels down the straps of your dress and slides his hands up under the skirt, and all the while he can’t stop thinking about what you said to your husband.

You used to say that to Dabi.

The first time it was an accident—you’d mentioned it off-hand during a night when it was snowing and his unnaturally high body temperature was the only thing keeping the two of you alive. “God, I love you,” you’d said, draping your arm around his shoulders and pulling him in close to share his heat.

It had stunned him and you could probably tell. Maybe the next few times were just you taking pity on a kid who had never been told so casually and so simply that he was loved. But eventually you meant it, the little love you’s before you went to sleep or when one of you went off to do something alone for a few days—a familial love borne of mutual reliance. For the years Dabi was a runaway with you, you were the only person he could trust, and he knows the feeling was mutual.

Now he wants you to tell him you love him again.

It would be hot, wouldn’t it? You telling Dabi you love him while he forces you into a mating press on the bed you share with your husband. Isn’t that hot? You’re never going to be able to sleep on these sheets again without remembering his hands on your body, his tongue in your mouth, his cock filling you in ways you haven’t been filled since you were 19.

How are you gonna lay next to your husband in this sad cold bed? ‘Cause that old fuck isn’t touching you, Dabi knows that much—if he was, he’d’ve noticed by now that you’re always covered in bite marks and hickeys that he didn’t give you. How are you gonna sleep at night knowing what a nasty slut you are, telling another man you love him?

So say it. Say you love him.

Oh, you’re going to be like that, aren’t you? What did he tell you about being a fucking brat when he’s talking to you? See if you’re still so defiant when he’s got his hand stroking the length of that pretty throat and then sealing down on it, squeezing gently on the veins running up the sides of your neck, not too hard, but enough that you’re probably getting a little dizzy while he continues to fuck into you. Does it hurt? Your face is turning pink. Uh-uh-uh, don’t try to pull his hand off, or he’ll show you just how good he is with his quirk these days.

You’re trying to choke out the words but you can’t quite make them make sense. There’s something endearing about the way your whimpers vibrate through the skin of Dabi’s palm, how he can hear you as well as feeling you. Oh—could you say his name too? He knows you’re feeling all fucked-out and wet and sloppy, every moan rising and falling in time with his cock stretching your pussy open, but can’t you give it a little more effort? He’s sure you can get his name out if you really try.

And if you’re not going to cooperate, Dabi may as well just dig the heel of his knuckle into your windpipe, because you really do tighten up so deliciously when you cough and sputter like that. Fuck, if you keep doing that, he’s going to cum, gonna cum right here in your syrupy pussy and spill it all over your marriage bed—but no, he wants to hear you say it first, so when you’re gagging and turning red and your eyes are watering he finally stops choking you, loosening his grip just enough that his hand is resting on your neck in a lover’s touch. It takes you a second and your voice is so hoarse he can barely hear it, but then you’re speaking and something jumps in his chest—

“I…I love—love y-you, Touya!” you sob. “I love you! I—love you, Touya—Touya—Touya—!”

And ah fuck it’s almost exactly right, your voice saying you love him, saying his real name, a name he hasn’t heard for years because you’re the only one who really knows it anymore—but you’re crying, real heavy sobs while you gulp in frantic lungfuls of oxygen. Your ribcage is heaving underneath him and—god, fuck—your guts are clenching, sucking down on every inch of his cock, every vein—

—oh shit fuck fuck he’s cumming, and he presses his face into your neck, into your hair, kissing you and thinking I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you—

—please stay, forever.

///

When he’s done, he goes for another round just to make sure you’re going to have cum dripping down your thighs when you go back to the party. No panties, unless you want him to walk through the grand foyer with all the other guests on his way out.

You don’t look at him as you fix your dress and your hair and wipe at your smeared makeup. With your eyeliner rubbed down to the bottom of your eyes, Dabi’s reminded a little of how you used to look—and the reminder is doubled when you slide your legs across the side of the bed and limp over to your vanity, walking hesitantly, your hips rocking from side to side. Damn, did he fuck you that hard?

Reminds him of the old days, you shuffling back to the hideout with that same awkward pain in your gait, purple marks around your neck, and a dim smile decorating your face—for his sake. Oh, and cash in your pockets. You’d tell him that the two of you were going out to eat that night and refuse to let him look at the injuries. God, it made him angry, it still makes him angry just thinking about it—angry at the men who bought you for treating you like that, angry at you for letting them. Angry at himself for not being old enough or strong enough or rich enough to stop them.

Anger, yes…and other things too. There had been a sick, insidious part of him that wanted to be in their position. He’d hated himself for it back then, until you left and the desire to punish you for abandoning him got twisted up with the desire to own you and keep you his. Maybe if he let himself think about it, he’d still hate himself for what he’s doing to you.

By now, you’re too good at covering up the bruises. A sweep of foundation and powder passes over each hickey he left on your throat and it’s like he never touched you. You have to push him off the bed so you can strip the sheets and replace them. When you’re done, you tell him to wait a few minutes after you leave to sneak out the back and he makes another half-joke about joining the party and introducing himself to your old man—

—and you shove him up against the wall with all the strength left in you, wrap your hand around his neck, and dig your fingernails under the line of piercings in his cheek. If he even looks at your husband, if he even thinks about it, you’ll rip his goddamn face open, you tell him in a low snarl.

It’s an empty threat (you and he both know who would win in a physical altercation) but there’s real hatred behind it. Dabi hasn’t seen that kind of fire in your eyes since he found out you became a trophy wife. It makes him want to have you again so he does, pulling your arms away from his face, standing and holding you up against the door to your bedroom, forcing you to wrap your arms around his neck and cling to him to keep from falling.

He’s lubed up by his own cum, and the wet squelching of your pussy just reminds him what a mess you’re going to be when you return to high society tonight. Maybe your husband will be able to smell it on you—the cum, the sex, the other man who’s been keeping his darling wife warm while he’s at work.

Well, probably not. If that stupid fucking cuckold hasn’t figured it out by now, there’s not much of a chance he’ll get it on his own. As Dabi sinks into your tight, gummy cunt again, he decides that he might just have to help the process along. A man deserves to know if his wife is being unfaithful, right?

///

Your husband’s office phone number is written on a post-it note that’s tacked to the desk of his study. It takes Dabi 40 minutes and $30 to buy a burner cell phone, leave a message on the man’s voicemail, and toss the burner in the kitchen trash at your house while you’re in the shower.

The message is short and straightforward. Dabi introduces himself as ‘the man who’s sleeping with your wife’, describes the floor plan of your husband’s house and what position he fucked you in for each room, and finally finishes it off with the evidence—the precise size and location of every hickey he’s left on your body that will still be visible by the time your husband returns from work.

Dabi almost wishes your husband had picked up the call—he’d’ve had a good time explaining in pornographic detail the way your tits look under those too-formal dresses, the way you moan when you cum in his mouth, the way you told him you loved him while he choked you out—with your husband in the house, no less. But this is fine too.

Besides, it’ll be so fucking funny if someone else at your husband’s company hears the message before he does.

///

Whore. Your husband called you a whore.

You’ve been called a whore a lot, actually. More than most people. You should be used to it by now. But it’s different when your husband says it. Your husband, the man who rescued you from a life of poverty and starvation, the man who has given you everything you own, the man who slid a ring onto your finger under a wedding arch and promised to love you in good times and in bad. The man you’ve almost convinced yourself you love back.

He called you a whore and slapped you when you tried to explain yourself and shoved you out the door and locked it. You can still hear his voice telling you the only place he wants to see your face again is in a casket.

So that’s why when Dabi comes to collect you, you’re hugging your knees to your chest on your front porch in your shiny lace-edged slip nightdress, hair in a mess around your head and your lip bleeding onto your chin. Your feet are so cold—your husband didn’t even give you time to put shoes on before he threw you out.

The night is cool and dark but the porch light buzzes on for half a minute when Dabi climbs up the steps to come crouch next to you on the doorstep. You try not to look at him, but he tilts your face toward his, electric-blue eyes skimming over the red mark and blue-black discoloration blossoming across your cheekbone; the blood drying on your split lip.

Dabi asks calmly if your husband hit you, and you nod.

Good, he tells you, and his body lights up blue in a roiling cloud of flames. He’s been waiting for an excuse to kill that old fuck.

The fire is like lightning, bright and ghostly in the darkness. The crackling of the flame eats away at the heavy silence of the night and you crawl back from the dry heat of it, sure you can feel your eyebrows singeing from being near. Dabi looks different backed by the inferno—bigger, crueler. Frightening. He reaches at the door but you shout at him to stop.

Why? Don’t you think he should suffer, after what he did to you?

But your fists clench by your sides and you set your teeth and you tell Dabi that if he’s going to kill your husband, he may as well set himself on fire too, because it’s his fault in the first place. And he’s done a lot worse to you than one slap.

Dabi waits a moment, searching your alarmed expression for something, but whatever he’s hoping for you don’t give him and the flames go out. The air smells like smoke and his hands are hot—not burning, but uncomfortably hot—when he kneels in front of you and rubs a thumb over your bruised cheek.

“(Y/N)—” Dabi starts, and then he can’t find a way to finish. So he just gathers you up in his arms and carries you bridal-style down into the lawn and to the driveway, where he’s got a car waiting to take you guys back to his place. You don’t resist, which surprises him again. He thought you’d push away at him, scream, get angry—he thought he’d have to convince you. Or force you, like he usually does. But you just let him deposit you in the seat next to the driver’s.

Before he gets in, he asks you if you need anything from your house. He can go get it for you. See if any balding motherfucker in his forties can stop him. But you just shake your head.

“There’s nothing,” you say blankly. “I have nothing. I…have nothing.”

Just like back then.

“Not nothing,” Dabi tells you, turning forward to the road so you can’t see the look on his face. “You have me.”

///

In the end, he does understand. He understood it the second he held that goodbye note in his hands and knew you were lost to him.

You were 17 when you met him and 19 when you left—hardly older than a child yourself. You barely had enough to provide for your own needs, much less a teenage boy’s. By the time you left, Dabi was more than capable of surviving on his own and already falling into ugly crowds, gangs and syndicates who saw money in his quirk, people you’d sacrificed a lot to keep him away from. He no longer needed you, and it was time for you two to go your separate ways. Dabi understands that.

But now you need him. Just like you needed him when you were fucking strangers for food money; like you needed him when you ran away; like you needed him when you got trapped in this mundane, sparkling-clean life, a life that was never going to fit you. Only this time—this time, Dabi’s old enough for you. He’s not a kid anymore, he’s a man. He’s got an apartment and a good job (well, kind of) and he’s got money. He can provide for you the way you’ve always needed him to.

Dabi’s going to take care of you, and you’re never, ever going to leave.

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lixnininotnay · 3 years

Note

Hey do u think you could just do some yan hank x reader :) thank u :)

Hello, and thank you for being the first one to send me a request! And sorry for making you wait for so long, first I thought doing a few headcanons, but soon my ideia became an one-shot, and then it turned out in a full story (sort of, lol). Let's start this tragedy! I hope you enjoy it.

Warning: this story contains a lot murder, description of death, blood, emotional, psychological and physical abuse, kidnapping, unhealthy relationships and behavior, yandere, obsession and others topics. It's not recommended to read it if you are uncomfortable with any of those.

P.s.: if I forgot to put some warning or if you spot any grammatical error, please tell me! I would be thankful.

All the mistakes you made (A Yandere!Hank x reader story)

Chapter I. - Your first mistake.

You kicked and squirmed against the man who held you in a grip that felt like steel, but even though you were giving it your all, your resistance was showing no result. In fact, it looked to him like you were just a rag doll that he was carrying on his shoulder, but it was also because you were weak and heavily injured.

"Let me go, your fucking bastard!" You hissed. No answer. He just continued walking stilly, like if it was the most ordinary thing that ever happened.

But to be truthful, that wasn't the most eccentric thing he'd ever done. Hank was famous for causing large-scale massacres, but you didn't believe in it before, after all, how could a single person destroy entire units by himself and without leaving any witnesses?

You thought it was all a farce, that in reality it was a group that was after all this killing, and they pretended to be only one person to strike fear so nobody would try to counter them. So you ended up accepting the mission to go after that guy called "Hank" in order to investigate further and see if your theory was correct, you were curious to see the truth. That was your first mistake. You were in an arsenal of the A.A.H.W. with other mercenaries and agency members, they apparently managed to locate approximately where his base is and planned to attack in a large number, and they also talked about the possiblity of having a pizza party that might happen after, but you didn't mind too much.

While everyone was getting ready and arming themselves to the teeth, you could hear an explosion noise, followed by gunfire and screams filled of agony. Everything happened so fast that you couldn't ratiocinate correctly.

You quickly obeyed your senses and threw yourself behind a pillar, thus protecting yourself from the barrage of gunfire that followed right after, that covered the entire room in red and yellow. After everyone realized that the enemy had finally run out of ammo, the ones who survived came out of their hiding places and started trying to fight back, but were quickly killed one by one. Picking up an AK-74, you tried to get as far away as possible, knowing that facing danger head-on would be futile.

Going up a staircase and reaching a higher landing, you got behind a container and peeked out to see who the enemies were. As a consequence, taking a fright when realizing that it was just one person, not a group, easily killing several with just a katana in hand. You tried to ignore this fact and focus on the battle, firing and managing to land two shots on him.

Hank rapidly became annoyed, and started to ignore the agents that were going at him and changed his direction to you and the other two snipers who were on your side. For a split second, as he lifted his head to see where the shots were coming from, you could see bloodlust in his eyes, similar to a malicious and hungry animal, it was terrifying.

And then he began to move in a fierce way, brutally slicing anyone on his path to you. You were trying to reload your gun and to back away even more, but he had already gone up the stairs, kicked the closest sniper in the face causing them to hit their head against the wall, instantly killing them. He tried to cut you in half with his katana right away, but you managed to hold the blow using the AK-74 and kicked him in the stomach, pushing him away.

The second sniper tried to shoot him, but Hank managed to ricochet two bullets, hitting them back and in the meantime you bolted behind a wall, he took the gun from the first one he killed, and you started exchanging shots. You got hit twice, once in the shoulder and once in the abdomen, and you ran out of bullets, when he realized that, he went straight towards you and tucked the gun behind his back. You tried to run away, but he had already reached and started to strangle you, he wanted to have the satisfaction of killing you with his bare hands.

You struggled for air, but his grip was stronger, you could see the sadistic urge to kill in him, without showing an ounce of pity.

Just when you thought it was your end, the second soldier shot Hank, before they took their last breath and died in their own blood trail made after they crawled close enough to aim. In the second he momentarily loosened his grip, even though you were still dizzy from the lack of air, you managed to grab the gun from Hank's back after the shot, struck him with it, taking him off you and getting up quickly with the help of the the wall, trying to hold the gun and aim it, shivering from the adrenaline, bruises and out of breath.

"It's over. Just give up already." You demanded.

"You're a really annoying bitch." Hank hissed, still on the floor and with one hand on the left side of his face, where you hit him and cracked the glass of his goggles.

And all of a sudden, just when you thought Hank was finished, he got up, you tried to react but your movements were still slow. He grabbed the gun from your hands, caught you around the neck with his other hand, making you bang your head against the wall and then knocking you to the ground. The impact was so bad that you felt blood seeping from your lips and a tremendous headache, making you whimper in pain. Hank just chuckled at your state.

"Goin' down that easily? You're pathetic." Hank mocked you as he approximated. You tried to creep away but he stepped on your back, stopping you once more. He bent down to look at you closely, your eyes still had the slendor of the desire to fight and survive, an expression on the face from someone that wouldn't give up yet, he loved it. He stopped for a second to think, then continued. "Y'know what? I liked you, just love your type." You tried to process what he told you, but nothing made sense. "I'm keepin' you with me. Stay here." He said as he got off from you, but before shooting one of your legs. What made you scream out loud in pain, the adrenaline of the moment passed causing all the pain to hit you at once, while Hank came down from the platform to kill the rest of the agents, and the A.T.P. soldiers and mags that just arrived.

Everything in you hurts, even breathing, it was hard to relax. You spent a few minutes lying on the floor listening to the gunshots and screams in the background that haunted your ears, sounds that were becoming more muffled as the time passed, and trying to somehow control the pain, however your efforts did not yield results, the burning sensation of your wounds remained and you were struggling to not faint. When your vision started to get blurry, you heard something:

"Hello? Anyone's listening? Hello?" You turned your head to the voice, it was coming from the room that had the radio. "I repeat, anyone's listening?"

Clinging to what you thought was a glimmer of hope, you rise up with difficulty from the ground and began to stumble to the station, almost slipping in your own puddle of blood. After arriving with difficulty in the chamber, you answered. "Yes, (Y/N) talking, it's an emergency." You battled to say, your throat felt like it was on fire.

"What happened?"

"Hank invaded the base, we need units, NOW!" You tried to demand, your voice was still weak.

"It will take some time, we don't have any available next to your location." That irritated you.

"For the fuck sakes, we don't have time--" They hung up, wich made you rage and question if all your efforts were in vain.

You tried to keep your composure, after stopping for a few seconds to calm down, you rummaged around and found some bandages and an adrenaline shot in one of the lockers, which you used to cover the wounds and applied to yourself, now managing to stand up and even walk. And digging a little further you found a knife bag with a knife inside, which you decided to hide in one of your boots, and a pistol that you kept in your hands.

When you left the room, you decided that you were going to run away without anyone noticing, to hell the reward money. Watching your surroundings and hiding behind the containers, you saw that Hank was no longer in sight which made you panic, but you also saw the body of the guy who saved you, you tried to check their pulse, but they were gone.

"Thank you. Rest in peace, my man." You said in respect, while closing their eyes, knowing that if they didn't help, you would be dead. Before getting up and leaving you saw that in their pocket there was a grenade, which you decided to take.

You rushed down the stairs and walked down one of the long corridors for what felt like hours, the place looked like a maze full of corpses, making it obvious that Hank has been through here. Entering and turning in several corridors, trying to remember where is the exit, made you regret to not paying attention and memorize the place, this base was gigantic.

Hearing heavy footsteps approaching you, you entered a room that looked like a dormitory and hid under a bunk bed, carrying the pistol. You heard the door open again.

"You really don't obey when someone says to, do you?" You can feel the irritation in his speech, sounded like Hank was searching for you for some time already.

He began looking around the room for you, kicking and knocking over some furniture in the process, you started crawling under the beds trying to make as much silence as possible and get next to the door. For a moment he stopped and was silent, a sudden movement that made you uneasy. He was trying to hear you. After what seemed an eternity of silence, he turned his head towards the bed you were hiding underneath.

Fuck it.

You abruptly ran to the door for your life, and before he could do anything, you took aim and started shooting towards him to keep your distance and threw the grenade at him, closing the entrance as you left. Even though, he protected himself with using the beds, leaving no major injuries on him, it really took him by surprise. Hank didn't expect that you could do all of this for your bruises, you sure were an interesting person. Now he really wants you.

You sprinted as fast as you could, your movements becoming more clumsy as the pain returned, but it didn't stop you. Finally finding the exit, you spotted a vehicle that could easily get in and hot-wire it, but wasn't able to, despair making it even harder. In this short meantime, you felt a pair of hands pulling you by the collar of your shirt and pulling you out of the vehicle.

"You really know how to get under my skin." he admitted, both out of admiration and irritation in a threatening way, looking directly in your eyes. And he threw you over his shoulder, hurting you and making you drop your pistol in the process. He couldn't be gentle even if his life depended on it. "I'd have drive us both to the base, but you are such a fucking annoyance that makes it impossible." And then he started walking with you on his shoulder.

What he said made you shiver, what was he planning to do with you? You started to struggle, waiting for him to let go of you, but he just held you tighter. You soon ran out of strength and gave up, getting more tired and weaker by every minute, all this agitation was too much for you, so eventually, you end up passing out from exhaustion.

Hank still couldn't figure out what he found so fascinating about you, maybe because you, a nobody, managed to survive him for so long, few did, or because of your determination and how you surprised him, or even the way you looked at him, he loved to see that mixture of fear, hate and will to live in your face, it was so intriguing.

Whatever it was, he wouldn't be worrying and questioning himself nonstop right now, he didn't need to. Because he would have all the time he wanted to discover now.

#madcom x reader #yandere madness combat #madness combat x reader #yandere hank #yandere x reader #tw yandere

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mercy-burning · 3 years

Text

Win Me Back

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

Summary: When Reader’s ex-boyfriend comes back to town, he finds a way to make amends— with a little help from her niece.

Category: FLUFF

Warnings: None other than a few swears :)

Word Count: 3k (I barely made the limit, folks, that was hard lol)

MASTERLIST

NOTE: This is my entry for @homoose ‘s 2k Celebration!! And if this fic seems familiar, that may be because it’s a re-telling of the car-wash scene from Ramona and Beezus 🤭😂 It’s one of my favorite movie scenes of all time, it never fails to make me squeal, and I had SO MUCH FUN writing this!

Also! I tried very hard to find the scene for you to watch incase you haven’t seen the movie, but the ones I did manage to find on YouTube cut out THE BEST PARTS, so I’m sorry 😭 But in case you want to know the ~vibes~ I tried to capture and don’t feel like watching the movie, I made THIS post last night with some dialogue/background from the scene if you’d like to read it! Obviously it’s not required since what I’ve written is quite different, but it is encouraged 😊

I hope you like it!! And if somehow you haven’t followed Moose yet, you should! She’s the sweetest ❤❤❤

***

Y/N found an abundance of upsides to taking neighborhood walks with her niece. For one thing, it gave her a distraction, something to focus on as she made sure eight-year-old Piper wouldn't wander too far from the sidewalk. She found solace in quizzing her on the multiplication table as they made their way around the block, an activity in which Piper enthusiastically flaunted her love of numbers.

It was also nice to stay outside and take in the warm sun and soft rustling of the trees, though every once in a while all of it wasn't enough to keep the memory of Spencer at bay.

After all, it was kind of hard when he was back in town, and after all these years he was reaching out to her like he hadn't broken her heart in the first place.

"You seem sad, Auntie," Piper said, grabbing Y/N's hand as the turned the corner.

Y/N swung their arms together gently, smiling down at her with a tilt of her head. "Why d'you think that, hon?"

Piper gave a little shrug, her ponytail blowing softly behind her. "You don't smile as much. And you always smile when you're with me... And you asked me the same times equation 3 times in a row just now. You're distracted."

Y/N couldn't help the breathy laugh that escaped her. You sound just like Spencer... Instead, she told her, "Aw, I'm sorry, Kiddo. My mind is just in a... confusing place right now. But I'm very happy that you got to come stay with me this weekend, you always brighten my day." She punctuated her sentence with a little boop on Piper's nose, to which she giggled and asked for another math equation.

The two of them continued around the block a few rounds, though on their fourth and final one, Y/N noticed very familiar car parked just outside her house.

Heart jumping into her throat, she stopped in her tracks, and Piper kept going only to be pulled back slightly. The girl turned to her aunt and furrowed her brow. "Auntie, why did we stop?"

"Um... I just wasn't expecting any company today besides you..."

Y/N certainly wasn't ready to discuss everything that was going on with Spencer to anyone, let alone her eight-year-old niece who wouldn't probably understand or care anyway. So she explained it the best way she could, quickly coming up with a plan to avoid him as long as possible.

"See the car parked over there?" Y/N asked, and Piper nodded. "Well, that's an... old friend of mine... And we haven't talked in a long time because we don't really get along anymore. So when we get up to the house, he might try to talk to us, and I'm going to tell him that we're busy."

"He's not mean, is he?"

Sensing Piper's reservations, Y/N reassured her while letting her own contempt for her ex fuel the conversation. "No, but... He broke my heart. And he—"

"Y/N... Hi..."

She nearly jumped, mostly from surprise, but also at the fact that hearing her name coming from his lips and his voice and just him brought back a flood of feelings she'd rather have forgotten. Still, she turned to him and cleared her throat. "Spencer... Hi."

Piper suddenly let go of Y/N's hand, a small scoff escaping her. "Oh. Spencer..."

The two adults turned to look at her with surprise, though it was Spencer who spoke up. "You... know me?"

"Mhm," Piper returned with a nod, crossing her arms. "I heard Mom and Auntie talk about you yesterday, and she says you have a stupid, beautiful face."

"Piper!" Y/N screeched, heat rising to her face. "I... You can't tell people that, I— That's not... I..."

"Oh... I'm sorry, Auntie," the little girl said quietly.

Y/N was fully prepared to dig a hole and stay buried in it forever, and her embarrassment grew even stronger when Spencer spoke up again. "It's okay," he reassured gently, a small laugh sounding from his throat that regrettably gave Y/N butterflies. "You're auntie's definitely right, I do have a stupid face."

Before Y/N could stop the conversation altogether, Piper cut in quickly, being sure to add, "And beautiful."

Spencer's eyes flicked up to Y/N, drawing her in with amusement and charm, a fact which she hated to her core. Because it was working, and that was annoying as hell. "Yep," he said, never taking his eyes off of her. "And beautiful."

And then the corner of his mouth turned up slightly, flashing her the most amused, stupidly perfect smirk.

Piper started talking again, and for the second time that day, Y/N wished she hadn't even said anything at all, keeping this whole situation to herself.

"But we can't talk to you, because you broke Auntie's heart, and we're busy. C'mon, Auntie. Let's go." Piper grabbed Y/N's hand and led her up the rest of sidewalk until they got to the driveway. And even though it might have been childish to completely ignore Spencer as they walked past, not giving him a second glance, quite frankly she was quick to abort the situation as soon as possible.

Unfortunately for her, Spencer was persistent.

They were almost to the steps up to the door when he called out. "Piper! Can I ask you something?"

The little girl turned around, losing grip of Y/N's hand and greeting his gaze without batting an eye. "Sure."

Damn kids and their willingness to be nice to strangers, Y/N grumbled in her head.

"I know... your auntie is an important person to you, right?" Spencer inquired, walking up the driveway with his hands in his front pockets. Y/N swallowed, most certainly not noticing how the sun perfectly highlighted him in a glow that made him look more beautiful than stupid.

Piper nodded.

"Well... She's important to me, too. And I really hurt her feelings, but I want to make it up to her. Would you be kind enough to let me try?"

Damn him, Y/N grumbled yet again. Damn him, damn him, damn him to hell... Why was he so charming?

He'd always known that kids were a soft spot for her, and when they'd dated, they talked a lot about having some of their own one day. Every time they took a walk in the park and they passed a kid, they always gravitated to Spencer, giving him the biggest smiles, and in turn he would give them a high five or perform a little magic trick to make them smile even wider. And Y/N melted into a damn puddle every time.

He knew exactly what he was doing, using Piper as a means to win her back, but even still, she knew that because of his gentle nature, most of it was... well, nature. Deep down, as much as she hated to admit it, she knew that he was a kind person. They may have ended things on bad terms, sure, and Y/N could pretend he was cruel all she wanted— The truth was that no matter how their relationship ended, he was a good man at heart.

And that's why it hurt so much.

Y/N thought for sure Piper would fall into his web, but she was pleasantly surprised when the girl responded with, "I don't know... I don't know if I trust you yet."

You and me both, Kiddo, Y/N thought to herself.

Spencer laughed again. "That's fair. Look, you can say no, but... How about I give you something in return?"

"Spencer, that's no—"

Piper crossed her arms and tilted her head to the side, interrupting Y/N before she could finish protesting. "How much we talking?"

"Piper!"

"Well, I was going to offer to show you a magic trick, but I suppose I could work you a deal... I only have a hundred bucks on me, would that be enough?"

Sure enough, Spencer pulled a one-hundred dollar bill from his pocket, and the young girl's eyes went wide. Y/N's did, too, but more likely than not it wasn't a means of excitement.

"You have yourself a deal!" Piper squealed with a jump. She ran over to take the money, meanwhile Spencer looked up at Y/N with a smile.

She didn't return it.

"Is there somewhere we can talk?" he asked softly. Kindly.

"Well, I'm babysitting Piper today, so you'll have to come back another time," she returned a little coldly, hoping that she and Piper had just scored a free Benjamin to pig out on ice cream while Spencer was left waiting forever for a conversation that was never going to happen.

Funny how eight-year-olds always had a way of making things more difficult for you.

"Auntie, Spencer and I made a deal. He gave me money, and now he has to make it up to you. Remember?"

Y/N groaned. "Yeah, yeah, I remember..."

"Well, how about I... take you guys out for lunch? My treat? If it's alright, we can go to McDonald's..."

"The one with the play place?" Piper gasped, immediately turning to Y/N. "Oh, Auntie, please can we go? Please, please, please?"

She looked up at Spencer, shaking her head in exasperation as he smiled at her, those sparkling honey eyes reeling her in whether she wanted them to or not. Then she turned to Piper and sighed.

"How fast do you think you can eat?"

***

Y/N was surprised Spencer didn't try to talk to her more on the drive over. Though, Piper did most of the talking, telling Spencer about how much she loved numbers and math, and he even quizzed her on some multiplication equations on the way.

If she wasn't so annoyed with him, Y/N would have melted completely.

It was the getting into the restaurant that worried her the most, though. She knew that once Piper ran off to play while they waited for their food, he would spend whatever short amount of time he had trying to win her back. And she was afraid of two things, mostly that she would end up crying in the restaurant, making a scene and wishing she'd never agreed to go, no matter how heart-broken Piper might have been. But there was also a small part of her, nestled deep into her heart, that was afraid she'd fall for him all over again.

He certainly made falling easy.

When the three of them stepped into the restaurant, it was easy to see how excited Piper was to be there. She gently tugged on Y/N's sleeve before looking up at her. "Nuggets, fries, and Sprite?"

"Apples, too, and you've got yourself a deal," Y/N said.

Piper nodded, not really caring but eager to go and play. So she sighed and nodded, leaving her with a, "Be careful!" as she saw the girl quick-walk over to the play area. There was a decent crowd that day, but thankfully no one in the restaurant seemed to have any grievances or knacks for trouble.

Spencer on the other hand... Y/N scoffed to herself, thinking how he was the most troublesome person in the area.

He proved her point by nudging her with his elbow. "She's a fun one."

"Yeah, she's somethin' alright," Y/N grumbled. "I can't believe you bribed her just to talk to me... If I didn't know better, I'd have thought you were being romantic. But I do know better, and you're just stubborn."

Spencer laughed, but she refused to look at him. "Aw, come on, give me some credit. You know I can be a little of both."

This time Y/N did look at him, squinting in a glare, like she was contemplating. "Eh... five to ninety-five. Leaning in favor of stubborn, of course."

"Obviously." The amusement in his voice made her hate his stupid, beautiful face even more than usual.

Thankfully he kept the conversation short after that, at least until they ordered. Since it was Spencer's treat, she milked his wallet for as much as she could afford to on fast-food. She ordered a large chocolate milkshake and enough food for her and Piper to share for dinner later— and probably lunch the next day, too. The amused chuckle Spencer let out as she was ordering did have her believing maybe she was being a bit childish. But the longer she thought about it, the more she stood by her actions.

He did break her heart after all. The least he could do was compensate through chicken nuggets and French fries.

The only thing she didn't count on, though, was how long it was going to take to make all her food, not to mention getting things done for other people. As she and Spencer made their way to the table, she realized she'd have to talk with him longer.

Spencer took advantage of this, naturally.

"So... How've you been?"

Y/N scoffed. "You show up out of the blue five years after you break up with me, and then have the nerve to ask me how I've been, in a McDonald's? Yeah, I've been great."

He sighed, his eyes flitting down to the table. "I know, I'm... I'm sorry. And I know I should have—"

"Spence, please don't... Look, I know... I know why we broke up, and I came to terms with the fact that your job was just to dangerous for us to be together, but... I mean, you weren't even willing to work it out, you just... ran away. That hurt."

"Y/N... I'm so, so sorry that it happened that way. I think about it almost every day and how much I wish I could have changed it..."

"But you can't change it. And now you... you show up here after all this time to—to what? Win me back? Use your kindness and your charm to reel me back in, like that'll somehow make everything better?"

He looked up at her through his eyelashes, the sight almost breaking her. "Maybe..."

"It's not that I don't appreciate the thought, Spence, because I do... I've dreamt about the day you'd come back and apologize, begging me to take you back... But I can't get hurt again. And you have to understand that."

"I do... Just..." His hands reached out across the table, gently touching hers. The feeling sparked something in her, something nostalgic and warm...

Something that felt a lot like home.

He was going to continue his speech, but a knock on the glass separating them from the playroom on the other side jolted them apart. It was Piper, a stern look on her face. "Don't try anything, Mister... You're still on thin ice."

She turned away then, running back to the slide when Spencer sighed. "I thought we had a deal."

Y/N laughed, nodding at Piper through the glass. "Even a hundred bucks and free food isn't enough to win someone's trust." Spencer looked over at her and waited, visibly swallowing. But Y/N flashed the smallest of smiles before finishing, speaking quietly, yet with all the truth and firmness in the world. "You have to work harder than that."

"Duly noted," Spencer replied, his gaze never straying from hers. "Looks like me and my stupid, beautiful face have some work to do."

Y/N rolled her eyes, leaning back in the chair as Spencer grinned like a fool... A stupid, beautiful fool. "Oh, alright... You know what... If you weren't paying for my mountains of food and giving me a ride home, that thin ice you're on would have just shattered under the weight of that comment."

"Oh, come on, it was funny."

"No, it really wasn't."

"Yeah, it was."

He stared at her, smiling until her forced frown slowly and reluctantly transformed into a smile of her own.

***

"Thank you for lunch, Spencer! And for the hundred dollars!" Piper skipped past him and up the driveway, stopping to turn and wave with her Happy Meal toy in hand. Y/N was carrying a bag of leftover food and half a milkshake, her stomach already regretting every choice she'd ever made.

"You're welcome, Piper," Spencer said, smiling at the girl. "And thank you for letting me get a chance to set things right with your auntie. You really helped me out today, I appreciate it."

"Sure thing. Just don't break her heart again, or I'll break your stupid, beautiful face. It'll turn into a stupid, ugly face then."

Y/N mentally face-palmed herself, turning to Piper and telling her to go inside and wash up. The girl gave Spencer one final wave and a smile as she did so, leaving the adults alone once again.

"Thank you..." he said quietly, shifting on his feet. "For giving me a chance. I really want to make things right with us... Make up for the way I hurt you, and... try harder. You deserve that much."

Years of heartache and trying to get over him begged Y/N not to believe it, but deep down she knew he was being truthful. He wasn't the type of guy to come around like this—especially with all the work travel he did—just to manipulate her into heartache again, with empty promises and hurtful intent.

She knew he was really willing to try to make things right, and that was a big start.

"Thank you... for saying that... And for making Piper's day. I know you didn't really mean to bribe her, but the fact that you did it anyway is absurd, so... I guess I have to give credit where credit's due."

Spencer laughed, and this time Y/N didn't hate the feeling of the butterflies in her stomach fluttering at the sound. "Well, I'm glad I could at least amuse you today. Does... this mean my romantic to stubborn ratio shifted a little bit?"

Y/N rolled her eyes affectionately, taking a sip of her milkshake. "Hmm... twenty to eighty."

"Still leaning in favor of stubborn, I suppose..."

The smile they shared in that moment felt more like the ones they used to share back then, officially kickstarting the slow, meticulous mending of their love.

"Obviously."

***

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cherienymphe · 3 years

Note

I just read twisted devotion and I can’t expression how much I loved it!

So I’m just here to say that you’re a brilliant writer. I love the way your stories never jump straight to the smut, you give us so much background to the characters and it’s all so planned out that I get more excited about reading about their story than the actual smut lol. I don’t think I’ve ever skipped even a single word of any of your fan fiction that I’ve read, that’s how much I like to read them🥺

Also I have a question, will we ever get to know if Thor actually got to know about Loki and the reader? If he did, what was his reaction? What did he say to Loki? Is he going to keep quiet? How did Loki even convince him to keep it on the down low? So many questions!!

Oh look a drabble!

Thank you so much! I’m glad you enjoy the build up because I know it’s not for everyone but I always write what I want to read.

Thor’s eyes never left your frame until it disappeared around the corner completely. His expression morphed within seconds as he rounded on his brother, the hand that was gently on his shoulder now pressing into his throat as he slammed the dark haired god into the wall.

“What games are you playing at, brother?”

His voice was low, panicked even, some might say. His nostrils flared as he stared at the other man in disgust, lip threatening to curl over his teeth as Loki simply stared at him.

“I saw you! I can hardly ever get you to shutup, but now you choose to hold your tongue? Our own sister?”

He knew that Loki enjoyed the usual trick or two. He enjoyed causing chaos and confusion amongst those around him, but Thor never thought he would fall so low. He never thought that he would turn his mischievous ways towards you. His brother’s lack of reaction and even gaze only made him angrier. They were supposed to protect you, keep you safe from harm, but the true predator was within their walls all this time.

Thor could hardly stand to look at him.

“Have you tired of all of the women in Asgard that you mean to traumatize our sister?” Thor snarled.

Finally, a reaction. He seemed to have hit a nerve as Loki shoved him away, eyes hard as he took a step towards him. His brother swallowed, jaw clenching.

“Hold your tongue on matters you know nothing about.”

“What have you done to her?”

“Nothing she did not want.”

That gave Thor pause, and his mouth parted as he stared at the other man. He blinked, rearing back a bit as he took a step back. He could feel his frown deepening, and he eventually shook his head.

“I never took you for a liar, brother.”

“I love her.”

Thor froze as he watched his brother. His green eyes were filled with emotions Thor did not think Loki capable of. His face held no humor, no uncertainty or doubt of any kind. Loki truly believed what he was saying, and Thor felt a sinking feeling in his gut.

“I...I shouldn’t. The way that I love her isn’t right...but I do,” he whispered.

He swallowed, looking like the boy he once was as he glanced away. His chest was heaving, Thor noted, and he studied him more as he faced him again.

“We...did something that she is struggling with. Something we shouldn’t have...”

Loki’s voice was low, a bit fearful even, and that sinking feeling in Thor’s gut only grew. The more he stared at his brother, the clearer the truth became, and Thor felt his stomach churn. He knew what Loki was hinting at, knew what the two of you had done, and he placed a hand on his hip, the other running down his face.

“Loki,” he breathed, realizing that this was not what it seemed.

Thor wished that his earlier assumptions were correct because then it would be so much easier to bring his brother within an inch of his life. But if Loki was telling the truth, and Thor suspected that he was, then this was more complicated than he wanted it to be.

Was he really surprised though?

For years, your closeness had bothered him. He’d tried to brush it off and pretend as if it didn’t, but it did. You always preferred Loki. You preferred his talents, his voice, his humor, even his bed when you had a nightmare. He had his warriors though and had long accepted that you two just had more in common with each other than you did with him.

Now, he was going over every interaction in his head. Every hug he witnessed, every hushed conversation he’d stumbled upon, even the nights in which Loki would comfort you back to sleep. How long had this been brewing?

“Father plans to marry her off.”

Loki’s trembling voice brought him back to the present, and Thor stared at him in shock.

“No...”

His brother nodded, and Thor blinked in surprised at the tears in his eyes.

“Within the year. She will be...someone’s wife...and she will go to live with him...and she will bear his children.”

Loki’s voice was strained, and Thor placed his hand on his shoulder.

“Maybe that is for the best, brother.”

Loki’s eyes darkened considerably at his words, and Thor continued.

“Loki...nothing more must come of this. Do you hear me? She...she is our sister. Our blood may not run through her veins, but she is family. We are meant to protect her...not...”

“Not love her in the way a woman deserves to be loved?”

“Loki!” Thor scolded his teasing, although his words and his eyes lacked humor.

His brother was hurting. He could see that now, but it did not make any of this any less wrong.

“I will not tell mother and father what has become of you two, but this must end. Whatever happened...it cannot happen again. She will be married and so will you one day. Things will be as they should. Are you listening to me?”

Loki had turned his head away, lips curled into a scowl.

“Loki!”

The dark haired god sighed before looking at him again. His jaw was clenched and his eyes were dark with distaste. He pulled away from him, causing Thor’s hand to drop, and the other man lifted his chin.

“I hear you, brother. Loud and clear.”

#drabbles

186 notes · View notes

bopbopstyles · 4 years

Photo

MUCH TOO MUCH

RATING: R/smut (some sex, some alcohol/drugs, cursing, the usual)

WORD COUNT: 9.7k

CATEGORIES: college!harry, roommate!harry

MASTERLIST | ASK ME QUESTIONS

a/n: this is my entry for my beloved @stellarboystyles‘s 3 year anniversary challenge!!!!! it was so fun to write these two and i hope you like it! a bit on the shorter side, but delicious all the same. come talk to me about them when you’re done, i want to hear what you think! (also this was named for the song by lennon stella in case u were curious lol)

Currently, he had you pressed against the wall of a house party, his fingers clenched in the hem of your skin-tight crop top, a knee propped between your legs, and his lips attached to your neck. Your hands were threading through his hair, those locks that curled at the ends and you’d always thought about tugging on, and now that you had the chance you weren’t passing it by.

“Fuck, Harry,” you mumbled, your head spinning from the alcohol in your veins and the feeling of Harry this close to you. To be completely honest, you knew what was happening was probably not the best idea. But considering how many cups of jungle juice you’d had and the fact that you were definitely crossed, you frankly couldn’t find a care in the world.

Harry and Y/N live together and one night they hook up and things get complicated

pls reblog and share with your friends 💕

Harry living with you wasn’t planned. At least, not in the way where you guys were best friends and decided to live together way. More in the way of neither of you had anyone else to live with and had the same price range kind of way. You happened to be at a mutual friend’s party mid-way through your sophomore spring and you’d mentioned in passing that you were looking for a roommate, and Harry’s head had popped up.

Somewhere along the way, though, you’d decided you quite liked living with him.

Even if he was obnoxious sometimes, was absolutely shit at doing chores, and couldn’t properly load the dishwasher.

He had a charm to him, you had to admit. He was good at getting on your good side—texting you when you were on the library and he was just leaving to head over, asking if you wanted anything to snack on. One time, he’d brought you a pint of Ben & Jerry’s and a bag of Flaming Hot Cheetos without being asked because he knew you hadn’t eaten in hours and needed your favorite foods.

His charms were what made you overlook the nights that he had people over and you had to listen to the sound of his bed frame hitting the wall, or had to creep into the bathroom in the early hours of the morning before he and whoever he’d brought back woke up, pretending to not even live in your apartment for fear of being embarrassed. Although, you never quite knew what you should be embarrassed about—but you were. Maybe it was because you frequently ended up listening to his sounds and trying not to think about how good he sounded or wondering what it was like to be in bed with him.

But that wasn’t something you would tell anyone, not even your friends who pestered you about what it was like living with Harry. Harry, the party-goer who always had three types of hard liquor in your kitchen but was also your go-to person to edit your papers and help you study for exams. Harry, who was your partner in crime on a night out and on a night in, someone who you could be yourself with no matter the context. It was something you’d never expected from him, but now that you had it, you couldn’t image losing it.

Which was why the current situation you were in was not the best.

Besides, it wasn’t like you hadn’t literally dreamed of this happening. In fact, you wanted this with every fiber of your being. You just didn’t have your brain stopping you now.

His tongue danced up the column of your neck, dipping into the crevice under your ear and his lips formed a circle on your skin and pulled gently, your fingers tugging on the strands of his hair. Your heart was beating wildly and so was his—you could feel it against your body—or maybe that was the thrum of the bass? You weren’t sure. When he tugged on your earlobe you wrapped your hands in the bottom of his graphic t-shirt, some random streetwear company that he was obsessed with lately and you thought was weird, but didn’t comment on.

One of your legs slid up his, ankle hooking around his knee and pulling his pelvis into yours, and the surprised grunt that left Harry’s mouth made you smile. “Y/N,” he groaned, fingers pressing harder into your skin. “What are you doing?”

“I’d ask you the same,” you answered, a devilish smile on your lips that Harry kissed away, his teeth tugging on your bottom lip and pulling your jaw down just enough so that he could earn access. It was brutal, kissing him. And not because it was bad, but because it was so good and you’d robbed yourself of this for a year and a half.

Your lips intertwined and fought for dominance, Harry’s sliding between yours and sucking and pulling just enough for you to move closer for more. Your wrists ended up behind his neck, holding him close to you, and you used the pressure to gain an advantage, grinding in his hips and kissing him with a passion burning in your heart.

Harry, meanwhile, was losing his fucking mind. He’d been thinking of this forever, and somehow tonight’s combination of alcohol and weed had led you two here: to a position that neither of your quite knew how it started, but you weren’t stopping it. In fact, Harry caged you in, his hands moving from your body to wall behind you, palms pressed to the worn white paint. He didn’t want to lose you, to lose this moment, to pretend like it never happened. Instead, he wanted to keep you tight against him, to memorize how it felt when the heel of your boots dragged along the inside seam of his denim jeans, the warmth spreading across his neck when you gently scratch at his skin as he suckled on your bottom lip and kissed a line across your jaw. He wanted to remember the sound of your soft breaths in his ears, how they increased in tempo as he sucked a hickey onto your neck, doubling his effort when you didn’t move to stop him. He’d seen you with them before and now that you were his—at least for the night—he wanted to give you one to remember him by.

Not that you could forget him. Not with Some Kind of Drug pounding in the speakers, his hips grinding into yours in the low lighting, his teeth nipping at your skin as you exhaled his name and a curse. He was unforgettable, that Harry Styles. Especially when he had your gripping his skin through his shirt, desperate for something to hold onto as he pushed you higher and higher into the clouds, your mind a haze of just nothing but him.

Harry pulled away a hair, mainly because he was getting tired of just having you against a wall with people everywhere—he either wanted to move this into a private space or call this off. Although he didn’t really want the latter, not really. That was only if you didn’t want him. But from the way you stared at him as he created a half foot of distance between you, your chest heaving, lace edge of your bra peeking out from underneath your cropped tank top, he didn’t think that’s what you wanted.

“Do you want to stay or go?” He asked, one of his hands lingering at the wall next to you and the other moving to move a piece of your hair out of your face.

“Go,” you answered, fingers twisting in the fabric of his shirt. “If—if you want to.”

He didn’t even take a breath before he answered, “Yeah, I want to.”

Which was how you two ended up making out in the Uber back to your apartment, you straddling his lap and twisting over him as he kissed you, his hands cupping your ass. Neither of you were sober enough to think about the fact that you were in someone else’s car, but then again, neither of you would probably care. Especially when you sucked on the edge of Harry’s jaw and he tugged your hips down on his and groaned low and rough in your ear, the sound making you smile against his skin.

The radio was playing the background, but in the haze you didn’t hear anything, all you could take in was Harry: his touch, his smell, the soft sounds he made as you moved on him, the feeling of his jeans against your tights-clad skin. It was chilly out and you had a thin pair of stockings on, sheer enough for your skin to show through, but enough to give you a bit of protection from the nip of the cold. His hands had already rucked up the edge of your favorite leather skirt, and your bra was poking out of the top of your cropped tank top that was tight over the swell of your breasts.

You were a sight in Harry’s eyes, something he couldn’t get enough of. Even though he lived with you, saw you in every outfit, especially the ones involving mismatched sweats and tired eyes, he never thought you were anything other than beautiful. Sometimes a bit rough around the edges, but who wasn’t? But now, with you like this, on top of him, he didn’t know if he’d ever seen you quite this gorgeous. This delicious, even though he hated describing people that way. But how else could he describe you when you stared down at him, lips red from his kisses and eyes blazing for him, chest heaving and cleavage demanding his attention. His hands couldn’t stop curving over your legs, smoothing up and down your thighs. It was sin, he decided, how he felt right now, because he couldn’t stop the spiral of thoughts in his brain.

The things he wanted to do to you.

The things he wanted you to do to him.

The things he wanted to see.

The things he wanted you to see.

The things he wanted to hear.

The things he wanted you to hear.

The things he wanted to feel.

The things he wanted you to feel.

It was like a freight train running through his head, all of the images and thoughts and concepts barreling into his thoughts. It made the swirl of your hips over his and the way you curled your fingers into the thin fabric covering his shoulders particularly hard to resist.

Realistically, the drive to your shared off-campus apartment wasn’t that long, but in your heads, it seemed like ages. Ages of waiting for a bed and privacy, ages of waiting to shed layers and know what endless bare skin looked like. So when your driver arrived at your building, you pushed open the door, narrowly missing banging your head on the roof of the car.

Harry chuckled as he tumbled out after you, thanking the driver and wrapping his arm around your waist. You wasted no time before you curled your arm around him and danced your fingers up his opposite side, your lips sucking delicately on the fabric of his t-shirt closest to you. It made Harry’s eyes flutter shut and his breath jump.

Was this what you were always like? This was the thing about this situation—you two knew one another, but not like this. You’d never made out in the back of an Uber or made out on your doorstep while one of you fumbled for the keys like you were now, or felt your hands dig into exposed skin and singe of hot breath on your neck. This was new territory, and perhaps if you both weren’t quite so drunk you would’ve stopped to talk about it.

But instead, Harry was leading you to his bedroom with your legs around his waist and your fingers in his hair, his lips crawling up your throat, walking blindly because he knew the way.

The thing about hooking up with someone you’d been close friends with for over a year was that there wasn’t a layer of awkwardness because you didn’t know the person. Instead, it was a hint of unassuredness whenever clothes started coming off, a hint of awe, but nothing uncomfortable. You’d never felt quite this comfortable with someone, in fact. You’d never trusted someone you hooked up with quite as much as you trusted Harry. And he felt the same way. When you pushed his shirt up his torso and scratched your nails softly down his skin he had never felt so alive, so full of desire.

It was why he fell back on his bed and let you stand between his knees in a desperate attempt to get your clothes off so he could feel your bare skin. He’d been waiting all night to see you—to finally see you—and now that he had you, he didn’t want to let you go.

“They’re tights,” you mumbled against his lips when he tried to pull on the material on your legs, a chuckle leaving your mouth.

“I know,” he replied, smirking. “Not an idiot.”

“Never said you were.” You stepped away, deciding you could do this part by yourself with more ease, and unzipped your leather skirt, the zip down the front meaning it was easy access, and let the material fall to the ground. Harry’s eyes swept up your legs and to the place where the band of your tights dug into your waist, gaze flaming black with desire. Then, you hooked your fingers in the tight band and tugged it down, peeling the thin material off of your skin, hopping on one foot to get them off your feet.

Harry resisted the urge to laugh, and instead reached out to hold you steady, a smile winding onto your face from the action. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you answered, standing up straight in just your purple underwear and your shirt and bra. His hands held fast to your hips, palms curving around your skin and gaze dancing up your body. And when you pulled your tight shirt up and over your heads, leaving you in nothing but your bra and panties, his heart about stopped.

You had on a set that didn’t match, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t stop looking at your breasts—it was cliche, that he loved boobs, but how could he not? Especially when you were breathing this fast and looking at him like that and you were wearing a red bra that barely held you in. How as he supposed to not lose his goddamned mind?

“What?” You asked, stepping back in between his legs, hands falling to his shoulders, sliding up the slope to cup his neck.

“You—you just,” he choked out, the words rough and dry in his mouth. “You’re so gorgeous.”

You didn’t know what to say, so you just moved. You kissed him, lips caught between his, and pulled at his shirt, tugging it up until he shifted back to tug it off his body and let it fall to the ground. You stopped thinking, stopped using any sense in your body, and instead just felt. Felt how he made your skin sing and your body thrum with pleasure, how he made the worries at the back of your head fall away with each pass of his hands, focused on the way he kissed across your clavicle and sighed when you harshly gripped his hair. You let yourself drown in those feelings because you knew if you used your head that somehow you would succumb to your fears and lose this moment, and that was the utter last thing you wanted.

Instead, you wanted to drown in him.

And he felt the same way. He fell back onto the duvet and took you with him, flipping you onto your back so that your hair was pressed against the pillowcase, a cheap one from Target he’d brought at the beginning of the year that you’d convinced him was a good color. You looked up at him with awe and temptation in your irises, and Harry took only a minute to rip off his jeans and his t-shirt, leaving his boxers on only because he didn’t want to seem like an asshole. Then, he was back hovering over you, his curls falling into his face, your fingers reaching up to push them back.

A smile drifted across your face and he dropped to his elbows, peppering kisses down your neck and falling back to his knees as he made his way down your body. When he heard a chuckle rip from your throat, he glanced up at you. “Distracted?”

“No,” you said, poking his temple. “Thinking about how when we first met I teased you about how you must fuck girls with your snapback on because you wore it so much.”

Harry hummed a laugh into your chest, dimples peeking out and you thought it was downright adorable. “I was a bit of a whore when we met, huh?”

“Maybe a bit,” you answered, a teasing lilt to your words that Harry knew well. “Don’t worry, you’re only just a bit less of one now. Didn’t lose that title, I don’t think.”

“That’s a bit rude,” he said, sucking harshly at your nipple through your bra. “Bullying me while I’m tryin’ to go down on you.”

“Is that what you’re doing? Couldn’t tell since you hadn’t quite made it there yet.”

You were taunting him like you always did, the alcohol in your veins making it more sexual in nature, and Harry loved it. It made it feel like the two of you, not like something that would be completely forgotten in the morning. “Am I too slow for you?” He asked, scratching gently at your sides and making you squirm as he fell farther down the length of your body. “I was trying to take my time but if you’re impatient, then—“

“Harry, please, fuck, just—“ A gasp fell from parted lips when he finally licked at the hood of your clit, your hands gripping his hair within another breath. Your words were nothing but pants, dry and heaving sounds that filled Harry’s head. He’d heard you through the walls before—it was a college-priced apartment, after all. Thick walls weren’t exactly something that fit in your price range. But hearing you this close, this sharp, the sound this crisp in his ears, it was making his hips rut into the duvet. It was his wet dream actualized, as horrible as that sounded.

Yes, he had wet dreams about you.

Yes, he knew that was probably horrible.

And no, he couldn’t bring himself to feel bad about it.

Your mind, on the other hand, was blank. Like, literally blank. That was the thing about sex when you were drunk, all the thinking and nerves and walls dropped away and you just let your body feel. There wasn’t that niggling thought at the back of your head that questioned if you looked good like this, you just let go and let your back arch and hips circle and arms quiver. Your hands drifted from the duvet to his hair and then the pillow behind your head, trying to figure out what would hold your grip best as Harry absolutely devoured you.

So far, you hadn’t settled on your favorite thing to hold on to, but his hair was in the running for first place. The sight of his eyes peeking up at yours, an image you only got every once in a while because you could barely keep your eyes open to look at him, was enough to send you spiraling. But you were trying to hold yourself together because you didn’t want this to end. You’d just gotten him like this and you didn’t want the night to be over because who knew what the morning held?

Thankfully, though, your drunk mind didn’t let those disruptive thoughts linger. Instead, they focused on the orgasm rising as he curled his tongue over your panties and then under them, the heat of his breath on your sensitive skin making you moan deeply, his ring-clad fingers pressing into your hips. Harry loved watching you almost as much as he loved tasting you, doing this to you. There was a power in oral sex, Harry couldn’t deny that, and he loved it not because of the power it gave him, but the gratification of making someone else feel good. He loved watching women finish, and you were no different. In fact, you were blowing every woman before you out of the water.

Maybe that was the alcohol talking. He couldn’t tell. But either way, when he sucked on your clit and you squeaked out his name, he didn’t know how he could do this with another person for at least a month or two. Getting you out of his head would be his full-time job for a while, especially while living with you.

Your fingers threaded through his brown curls, eyes fluttering open, mind swirling and trying to focus somehow on the sight below you and the feeling swirling through your body, a tightness spreading up your legs, your toes curling and feet pressing down towards the duvet, scrabbling for something to hold onto. They ended up hooking around Harry’s shoulders, his hands holding your thighs close, as if not worried in the slightest about them getting too tight. Instead, he held you close and your breath came out in short pants, airways drying from not being able to even close your mouth and breathe.

His tongue was just so wet. There wasn’t really a better way to describe it. Oral while you were like this always felt this way—just overwhelming in the most basic sense. It was wet and warm and overwhelming and you never wanted it to end. You didn’t even know how long he was down there, his head tucked between your thighs, alternating between sucking on your clit and licking up and down your slit, poking his tongue into your hole for a second—just long enough to make you groan, deep and unabashed.

“I’m close,” you murmured, words broken and Harry could only understand them because he had heard you talk in the morning after you’d just gotten up and your mind wasn’t quite working yet. He parsed your words together with ease, and the result made him grin, and suck harshly on your clit, before dropping his chin and licking into you with fervor. “Fuck, Harry.”

“That’s it,” he mumbled, words garbled because he didn’t even raise his head to speak, he kept his lips right on your skin which meant the vibrations of his words flowed through your veins.

His fingertips pressed harshly on the outside of your thighs, holding you close, and somehow the combination of the pressure and the heat of his tongue had you tumbling over the edge, your chest rising and falling quickly as you struggled to catch a breath, your orgasm overtaking you. Harry watched as your fingers clenched the duvet, legs tightening and then loosening around his shoulders, before dropping to the bed with a satisfied sigh from your lips.

He could watch you for days.

“Come here,” you said, glancing down at him with a fucked out look on your face, eyes glassy and lips red from chewing on them, your hair a mess from thrashing your head back and forth. He’d never seen you quite like this and he liked the sight.

Liked it a lot, in fact. He moved up your body with ease, the soft skin of his legs rubbing against yours. Once he was at your eye level, you sealed the distance with a kiss that made Harry’s mind fumble for stable ground, desperate for you. When you ran your toes up his calf, though, the soft touch making him moan, he knew he was fucked. “You—need you,” he said, breathless against your lips.

You pushed his underwear down without question, sliding your fingers under the band so you could feel his warm skin under your palms. When he bucked up into you as your nails brushed against his butt cheeks, you smiled against his lips, loving how obvious he was. He didn’t hide anything, pretend like he wasn’t affected. You liked that in a guy. “Condom?” You said, tweaking his skin between your thumb and forefinger.

Harry lifted his head, blinking once. “Yeah—yeah, in the drawer. One sec.” He shifted, rolling off of you so he could do two things. The first was find a condom in the drawer, the second was push down his briefs. Well, technically three things, because after that he rolled the condom on with focus, lip caught between his teeth as you watched, head turned to take in the sight of his side profile.

He was gorgeous. You’d known that for a long while, but seeing him like this, under the glow of the bedside table light and the sweaty curls sticking to his forehead, his chest rising rapidly. You were even attracted to his smattering of chest hair, and especially liked the way his skin purged at his sides. In fact, you reached out and grabbed it gently, drawing his attention back to you.

With one look back at you, he rolled back over you, your legs parting with ease. You wound your fingers through his hair and appreciated that he didn’t ask you questions, that he didn’t try to talk about it because you didn’t want to. You wanted this, it was obvious in how you gazed at him with desire and kneaded at his skin, tugging his pelvis closer and closer. The talk, you thought, would’ve ruined it, made you question it. And you didn’t want to question, you just wanted him.

So when he pushed one of your knees up to your waist and brushed his condom-covered tip over your slit, the skin nudging the hood of your clit, your hips moved without thought. Circled up for him, trying to get the angle for him to slip inside properly. Because you were craving it, feeling him. Needed him in a way you never had before and you didn’t want to linger on it, just wanted it to happen finally.

Harry’s eyes caught on yours, and as if scared of what he found, he looked back down at where your bodies met, before pushing inside. A moan ripped from your throat, fingernails digging into his biceps which you were gripping as he slid in slowly.

“Shit,” you cursed as you felt yourself adjusting to him, “Shit, fuck, shit, Harry.”

“Sorry,” he said, a trace of what you could’ve sworn was a blush creeping across his cheeks. “Good?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, squeezing at his arms. “Go.”

And he did.

Holy fuck did he go.

Harry held nothing back when he fucked you. He found a rhythm almost immediately, one that had your torso moving up the duvet and your head raising from the pillow and slamming back down again, eyes fluttering shut and then open again when he hit a deep spot. It was hard to describe how good it felt to have him inside of you, but god, it felt divine. Something you’d been missing. And not that it was him you’d been missing, but sex in general, you’d missed it. Missed this feeling of just losing yourself in it, in the movement of bodies and the sounds and the sweat and that feeling of closeness when Harry’s head dropped down to your neck and he thrusted deep inside of you, an echo of your name on his lips.

Your ankles hooked above his bum, and the impact of his hips on your inner thighs you knew would leave a bruise in the morning and you relished the prospect of it. Of remembering this feeling, of reliving it every time you squatted down. Although the thought of being empty of him was something you were not looking forward to, you were excited about the aftermath on your body.

And Harry was losing his fucking mind as he moved inside of you. Not only because you were squeezing him tight and thought he was going to come within seconds, but because of the way you were wrapped around his body, your hands holding onto his biceps so tightly he was sure there’d be marks tomorrow. It was how your legs sat above his hips, the backs of your heels digging into his ass to make sure he drove into you with a depth and a speed that you needed. Your head tipped back and your mouth was open slightly, tufts of air and moans of pleasure floating from them and through the air, sending sparks down his spine.

When he dropped his head to your neck it was because he missed smelling you, being that close to you. So he lost himself on the column of your neck, leaving mark after mark as he drove into you, as you swallowed him whole—body and mind. This sex was consuming in a way he wasn’t used to and he didn’t think it was the alcohol and the marijuana. He didn’t know why.

Well, he did, but he pretended not to.

Especially when you pulled on his hair and murmured, “Faster, please, H—fuck, please,” in his ear.

Yes, he decided as he sped up and reached a depth that made both of you choke on air, it was a far better idea to pretend that what he was feeling right now was completely normal.

Usually you liked to be on top, to set the pace and keep control when you hooked up with guys, but right now, Harry was doing so good on his own that the last thing you wanted was to stop him. So you let him set the pace and instead kept yourself busy by touching every inch of his body available. You fingers ran down the length of his arms, across the black tattoos swirling across his skin, and towards his chest, making a line down to his belly. When you scratched softly over his skin he grunted—and not a weird sound, but one that you could tell meant he liked it.

So you pressed a little harder, experimenting a bit.

To your smug joy, Harry’s fingers curled in the duvet next to your stomach, arms tensing, and his eye snapped to yours. He didn’t even have to say anything—you knew. He wanted you to keep going.

And you did. You brushed your hand to the top of his torso and dragged a torturing path downwards, nails biting into his skin. Not enough to draw blood, but enough to leave an angry red trail. Harry was panting above you, eyes fluttering closed as he thrusted into you.

He was close. Your nails mixed with how you squeezed him tight inside of you and the sounds you were making and the slam of the bed against the wall and your perfume lingering in the air—it all mixed together into a dangerous concoction that had him struggling on the edge. “Are you close?” He asked, words rougher than they had been when he last spoke.

When your chin tipped down ever so slightly, Harry smiled devilishly, the prospect of bringing you over the edge again spurring him on, a second surge of energy coursing through his veins. Any exhaustion he had been feeling before from lingering in the same position, any ache in his knees or tightness in his arms was gone, in favor of pressing your knees farther up towards your chest, earning a new angle that had your hands scrambling up his arms and nails digging into his shoulders.

He hissed at the touch and you panted the word Yes over and over again, eyes screwed shut as the orgasm built inside of you like a tidal wave, threatening to break as he twisted his hips a particular way. You were going to come, you realized only seconds before it happened, the depth Harry was reaching and the brutal pace against your hips creating a deadly combination.

As you did, a shudder of his name falling through the room, you squeezed Harry like a death grip and he choked out a moan before coming mere seconds after, unable to hold himself back any longer.

“Shit,” he said, leaning against your shins as he caught his breath. Your legs were still propped up against your chest, his hands caging in your body as he leaned his weight onto you.

Your eyes opened, the soft bedroom light seeming brighter after what had just happened. “Shit,” you answered simply, not knowing what else to say.

What did you say to your roommate after you fucked them, anyway? The alcohol still lingered, both of you plenty tipsy still. It was enough for your legs to drop open and happily let Harry kiss you senseless as he withdrew from inside of you, your hand cupping his jaw. His lips were fucking sin and you hoped you would be able to forget them. Because as he pulled away and mumbled about throwing away the condom, leaving you breathless on his duvet, you didn’t know if you’d be able to.

Harry woke up to an empty bed and a throbbing headache. He was still naked, but that wasn’t unusual considering he favored sleeping naked, and his duvet cover was around his waist. The side of the bed you had been asleep in when he’d shut his eyes was bare, the duvet cover askew from seemed to be you leaving.

He rolled over and picked up his phone, cursing at the low battery from not charging it last night. Then, he sat up in bed, letting the sheets pool at his waist and rubbed his eyes, trying to wake them up. His eyes were dry, probably from the weed, and his throat was dry, probably from the alcohol and the sex.

The sex.

His mind flipped through it in a series of images, like a slideshow on double time, the sight of you naked below him filling his brain. The thing about drunk sex was that you could remember the overall experience, the general highlights, certain specific moments, but it wasn’t like you could pick through it and remember each detail. But Harry didn’t even need the details to know it was fucking incredible.

Fucking you was literally a dream come true.

What wasn’t was the other half of the bed being empty, especially considering it was only eight AM.

He listened to the apartment, trying to decipher if he could hear you moving around. Usually he could hear your footfalls, considering how small and cheap the place was. But it was silent, meaning either you were still asleep or you weren’t home. Most likely it was the former, since it was still early and you usually slept late after a night out.

Although he didn’t know how you were the night after sex. And when had you gotten up from his bed?

More importantly, why had you gotten up from his bed?

Logically, he knew it was probably to avoid a weird interaction, but it was more weird for him to wake up alone and not know why. To not know how you wanted to handle this. Because his sober mind was increasingly realizing that although last night’s events were sensational, they were on the whole an utterly horrible idea.

The two of you lived together, for Pete’s sake. You were practically best friends. You still had half a year worth of a lease.

He groaned, his chin dropping to his chest as he took a deep breath. He could do this, he told himself as he kicked back the covers and slid his legs out of the bed. He could handle this.

So he put his phone on its charger, slipped on a pair of joggers, and went to find you.

What Harry didn’t know was that in the next room, you were wide awake. You had tried to fall back asleep after you’d crept out of his bed at six AM, and you had for a while. But then you woke up and the reality of last night came crashing back through your brain and you groaned, reminding yourself how fucking stupid you were.

Sure, Harry was hot.

That didn’t mean you had to fuck him, you idiot, you told yourself. He was your roommate, your friend. Not someone to sleep with. And yet, here you were, your thighs sore from his hips crashing against them and your body smelling like sex and his cologne.

You heard his door open—it was a small apartment after all—and your heart stopped for a second. You waited for the sound of his footsteps, praying he would just walk to the kitchen and not stop at your room. Listening closely, you heard him pause outside your room and then continue into the kitchen, where you heard the refrigerator open and close and then the kettle humming as he started a cup of tea. A part of you sighed, but the other part of you remembered that you had to see him eventually.

Why were you hiding, anyway?

It wasn’t like you could avoid him, and what did you have to avoid him about? Sure, you’d seen his naked body, sure he’d seen yours, sure you’d had mind blowing sex. That didn’t mean anything.

Right?

“Shit,” you groaned softly into your pillow and decided you would stay in your room until the last possible second. You never said you weren’t a coward.

Unfortunately, an hour later the desire to pee was overwhelming you and you couldn’t wait any longer. So you huffed out a sigh, threw on a pair of pajamas and pushed open your door, taking a tentative step into the hallway, trying to gauge where in the house Harry was. You’d lost track of him during a scroll through Instagram and couldn’t quite place him anymore and it was making you nervous.

Then, you heard the floorboards creak.

Your head whirled to the side, your eyes meeting his. He was standing not two feet away, looking at you with messy hair and wide eyes, a cup of tea clutched in one hand. “Hi,” you managed to say. “Bathroom.”

All he did was nod. He nodded as if this entire situation was somehow normal and completely not fucking with both of your brains.

So you strolled down the hall to the bathroom and shut yourself inside. If he wanted to pretend like this was normal, you could do that, you decided. You’d give him normal.

For the next two weeks, that was exactly what you did. You were the picture of normalcy—you pretended like nothing had happened, just made jokes in the kitchen and joined him for study hours and brought home takeaway for the two of you on Thursday night as usual. However, you couldn’t ignore how things had changed between the two of you. There was this…air between you. Charged with sexual tension that you couldn’t ignore, mixed with a hint of awkwardness and uncertainty that had you both on edge. Gone were the playful squeezes to your sides and you swatting him upside the head when he was annoying. Gone was any unexpected touch, in fact. It was like the Cold War in your apartment, a détente on both sides.

It was excruciating. So much so that you’d found yourself wondering if you needed to move out, which was a stupid idea considering it was mid-way through the year and you adored your apartment. It would also probably be more awkward to break the lease agreement than keep it, you decided.

So instead, you stayed, and you pushed through the uncomfortable moments and spent more time in your room than ever before, the living room a space you avoided unless you had to be there. Harry did the same, a look of almost panic on his face whenever you walked into the kitchen in the morning for breakfast. Was the idea of being in close quarters with you really that horrible sounding?

Apparently, it was.

Two weeks after the night of your greatest mistake, the two of you ended up meeting up with your friends. In fact, the exact same set of friends who you’d been with at the house party two weeks prior. You’d ended up walking over to Mariah’s apartment together, a case of Whiteclaws tucked under Harry’s arm. You were rambling about your art history course and he was nodding along, offering the occasional thought. It felt decently normal, and you were hoping it would last through the night.

At first, it did. But then, more and more people started showing up—some people in the debate club with Mariah, a few from the club soccer team with James, the entirety of Lilah’s a cappella group, and then some people you and Harry had each invited. The result was a packed apartment, the music blaring from a portable speaker, and alcohol bottles and plastic cups littering every surface. There was the faint smell of marijuana from when some people went to smoke in Mariah’s room, and it felt comfortable.

You were talking in a group of yourself, two of your friends from a summer internship you’d had, Harry, and Wei, a guy Harry knew from freshman year who had stayed close with. It took everything in your body not to let your gaze linger on Harry, the cut of his dark green t-shirt close to his body and his black skinny jeans gripping his thighs. His hair was a mess, as it always was when he’d had a couple drinks because he ran his hands through it nonstop. His green eyes were sparkling as he listened to a story Wei was telling, his full body laugh sounding in your ears. It was torture being this close to him and there being a wall between the two of you.

“Hey,” your friend Deliah said, her soft voice pulling your attention back to her. “You and Harry okay?”

She hadn’t been there two weeks ago and you hadn’t told her about what had happened. “Yeah, we’re fine,” you told her with a slight nod.

She studied you for a beat longer, but then seemed to accept the response. “I’m going to go get another, you want anything?”

“No, go ahead,” you answered, raising your still half-full glass.

Ronnie, who stood next to you, said she’d go along and then Wei pulled away and followed them, saying he needed another beer and wanted to find one of his friends and say hello, and suddenly, it was just you and Harry. You and Harry and both of you were fairly drunk and you couldn’t stop looking at his lips. The memory of how they felt against yours pushing its way into your brain and suddenly overtaking your every thought.

What was worse was how he was looking at you. He was watching you, something you knew because you knew him, knew what every one of his glances meant. This one was backed by thoughts, it was the result of him thinking about you and watching your face for something. What, you didn’t know. But you couldn’t take the way his eyes were trained on your expression, the feeling of his gaze on your skin. The distance between you felt like it was shrinking and you felt like you could smell his cologne even though in reality you couldn’t, and you wondered if your heart was pounding in your chest because of the alcohol in your bloodstream or him.

You couldn’t stand there next to him, you decided. You simply couldn’t.

“I’m going to get some air,” you said, pushing yourself off the wall. “Back in a second.”

He may have said something, but you were gone before you could hear it, threading through the crowd towards the patio door. It was a tiny patio, just enough space for a set of chairs and a narrow table, but it was enough. It was empty and the music was quieter as you shut the sliding door.

You could breathe out here, and you did, resting your cup on the railing and looking out at the street. Mariah’s apartment was nestled closer to campus, a bit more of an expensive place thanks to her parents and a high-paying summer internship. Distantly you heard the chatter of people walking on the street towards frat row, the honk of what were probably Ubers picking people up and dropping them off at parties.

Slowly, you inhaled, trying to calm the fast beat of your heart. Your thoughts drifted back to Harry, though, and how you had just looked at one another, had studied each other, both knowing that you couldn’t continue you like this. Something had to give and you didn’t know what it was. You didn’t know what to do. Mariah had tried to talk to you about it, but you’d pretended like it was fine because you didn’t want her meddling. You knew she would try to talk to Harry and then it would become some big thing for all of your friends to know about, and you didn’t want that. You just wanted it to be solved and done and over with. You didn’t want all of these feelings in your chest or these thoughts in your head, you didn’t want to think about this anymore.

You didn’t want to think about him. You didn’t want to think about how good he’d felt, about how you wished it could happen again, about how you’d had fucking dreams about him, about how every time you heard his voice it sent shivers through your body because it reminded you of the way he’d said your name, rough and deep and rumbling in his chest.

And then you heard it: your name, in that rough and deep voice. “Y/N.”

“I want to be alone for a bit,” you said, not even turning to face him.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, obviously ignoring your words and instead shutting the sliding door behind him.

It was quiet now, and because the balcony was narrow he ended up standing right next to you, his elbow mere inches from yours as he leaned on the railing. “Nothing,” you said with a sigh, the lie bitter on your tongue. “Nothing’s wrong, Harry.”

At first, he didn’t say anything, just let your words float in the slight breeze. But then, you heard the crinkle of his thumb pressing into his cup and you knew he was fidgeting, thinking about something, and you knew he was going to break that silence. “Did I mess everything up?” He asked, so soft you barely heard it over the music from inside.

That make you turn your head, eyes meeting his finally. “It’s not your fault. I was there too, we both are responsible.”

“Then, did we mess everything up?”

You sighed, searching for the words. “I don’t think we messed everything up,” you told him finally. “But I don’t know if it can be like it was before.”

“Do you want it to be like it was before?”

His words made your heart jolt. “When we were friends?”

“Aren’t we still friends?” His words were so soft, so full of emotion, you wondered if this was the kind of conversation to be having right now.

“Yes,” you answered. “But…”

“Nothing more,” he finished. You nodded, and both of you were silent for a beat, letting the truth settle between you two. It was the first time you’d even acknowledged that anything had happened. “I don’t want…”

You turned to look at him and saw his tight his jaw was set, how his eyes were trained on the street in front of the building. How he could barely look at you. “H?”

When he turned to meet your gaze, his eyes were glassy, and you realized he was nearly crying. “I don’t want to go back to how it was before,” he said, words broken in his throat. “I want…I want more.”

That made your mind grind to a halt. “You—what?”

“Please don’t make me say it again,” he whispered.

You realized he didn’t know. He didn’t know how much you felt for him, how much the night you’d spent together had absolutely destroyed any semblance of an ability to pretend like you weren’t into him, that you hadn’t had a crush on him for ages. He had no fucking clue. “Harry,” you said, reaching out and brushing your fingers along his forearm, “I want the same thing.”

His eyes widened, gaze falling to where your fingers touched his skin and back up to your eyes. “You do?” You nodded, a smile spreading across your face that he quickly mirrored. “Have we been absolute idiots?” He asked, turning on his heal so you were facing one another fully. Then, he reached up and ran his forefinger across your jawline, a shudder running through your body at the feeling of his fingers on your skin.

“I think we might have been,” you answered, ducking your head ever so slightly so that his finger ran up to your mouth, brushing across your bottom lip.

He cleared his throat when you dropped your jaw ever so slightly, just enough for his finger to press in-between your lips, a ghost of a touch. “Can’t even think when you’re looking at me like that,” he mumbled, words that same roughness you remembered from your night together.

“Right back at you,” you told him.

He stepped closer to you, closing the distance. “We’re such idiots,” he murmured, hand moving to cup your jaw, his fingers brushing under your ear.

“Such idiots,” you agreed.

And slowly, he closed the space between you two, his lips brushing yours hesitantly. But the second you felt his mouth slot between yours, you moved closer, pressing your body against his and your arms winding around his waist to hold him close. His other hand brushed down your side and the grip made your skin sing, finally being close to him was everything you needed. It healed the ache in your heart that had lingered ever since that morning, that morning when everything had gone so wrong.

His lips parted and he pulled away ever so slightly, just enough so your foreheads stayed touching.

“Why’d you leave?” He asked, his breath on your lips.

“I got scared you would regret it in the morning,” you replied. “I didn’t want to be there when you did.”

He chuckled softly, a slight shake of his head. “I didn’t regret it,” he told you. “I thought you did.”

“I’m so stupid,” you said, one of your hands moving from his back to encircle his wrist that held your face. “I’m sorry for leaving.”

“It’s okay.” He pressed his lips to your nose so sweetly your knees just about gave out. “Got you in the end, right?”

You hummed an affirmation and leaned up so that your lips could reconnect, kissing him with a passion you’d been seeking for two weeks. And when he kissed you back, the tips of his hair brushing your skin and his fingers pressing against your skin, you sighed, finally feeling settled once again. You’d missed this—him, being this close to him. Somehow, that one night had made you permanently miss him.

He’d truly done a number on you.

“Wanna go home?” You asked between kisses, loving the soft moan that feel from his throat at the thought.

“As long as I wake up to you still next to me,” he replied.

“Promise,” you said, kissing him once more. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The two of you ended up keeping the apartment for the rest of the year, your stuff slowly ending up in his room because the mattress was more comfortable, and eventually your old room became a shared study room. It was where your desks ended up and you’d study there together in the evenings or marathon study sessions on the weekends, music playing from a speaker between you two. Most of the time, you ended up making out, though, and occasionally having sex on one of your desks or on the floor because frankly you couldn’t keep your hands off each other. The sexual tension that had been there that first night had lingered, and it made it so you two truly couldn’t stop touching each other.

It drove your friends crazy, all of them yelling at you whenever you started making out at parties, reminding you that you were in public and you could hold off until you were home, thank you very much. And Harry just would kiss your temple and whisper in your ear about what he wanted to do to you later, and you’d pinch his bum to remind him that he wasn’t the only one with tricks up his sleeves.

Harry had never fallen in love with someone so fast, but with you it was easy. You had been one of his favorite people before you’d started dating, but now it was like you were truly the most incredible people in the world. He’d wake up with you snuggled into his chest, hair tickling his nose, and he’d get a kiss before you left bed since your class schedules started at the same time most days. You’d make his tea just like he liked it and rubbed his back when he got sick after a big night out, and when you laughed at one of his corny jokes your entire face would light up, a beaming smile that made his whole body ache. You were so gorgeous is physically hurt sometimes because he couldn’t stop staring at you, absorbing just how fucking perfect you were.

It was funny, because dating you wasn’t all that different from being your friend. He still got all the shared dinners and movie nights and hilarious stories the morning after a night out, but now he got to hear them while cuddling you on the couch, your head tucked against his neck. And when you teased him about how much of a boy he was (his snapback was your favorite target) you’d kiss him to make him stop pouting. But he was happy. He was so fucking happy with you.

He was thinking about all of that while you sat on the couch together, his head lying in your lap as you read a book for class, your fingers running through his hair absentmindedly. He was watching you, something he did often and you’d grown used to, and suddenly the overwhelming desire to finally tell you how he felt hit him like a truck.

And unlike previous attempts, he couldn’t stop himself.

“I love you,” he said, the words so simple and sure that they made you stop reading and look down at him.

“What?”

“I love you,” he repeated, drawing out the last word and tucking his face into your stomach, peppering kisses over your shirt. For some reason, he wasn’t nervous, knowing you’d say it or not and either way it was okay—he wasn’t expecting you to necessarily be ready. He just couldn’t hide it anymore.

He knew your mind was turning but he just kept kissing you, knowing the action would calm your anxious thoughts. “I love you too,” you finally said after a beat, and he looked up at you.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, you idiot,” you answered, setting your book down on the couch and smiling at him. “Wasn’t expecting to tell you quite like this, though.”

“How were you planning to tell me?”

You shrugged, rubbing a circle on his forehead. “Dunno. Something more monumental, I guess? I know you like all those romance movies, so I thought maybe something like in one of those.”

He adored the fact that you wanted to make it special, that you’d thought about it, but he just shook his head at you. “I don’t need it to be monumental,” he told you, brushing his fingers along your chin. “This is perfect. You’re perfect.”

“Shut up.”

“Never,” he said, sitting up and grabbing your hips, swinging you onto his lap with your laughter raining down on him. “Never going to stop telling you how perfect you are.”

He hooked his fingers on your neck and pulled you in for a kiss, one of those ones that made your thoughts all mushy and his heart pound in his chest because sometimes the way he felt about you just made his whole body go silent except for his heart. Or, at least it felt that way.

“Love you,” he mumbled against your lips, eyes catching yours.

“Love you more,” you replied, kissing his nose softly.

“Are we going to be one of those couples that is constantly competing over who loves the other person more?” He asked, nestling his head in the space between your shoulder and neck, settling there as your fingers swept through his hair. You wrapped around him like this was his favorite place to be.

“Probably,” you answered simply, a tender kiss to the side of his head. “Now, does this mean you’ll make dinner tonight? I’ve got a paper to edit.”

He laughed into your shoulder, picking his head up to look at you. “You make it sound like I don’t make dinner practically every night.”

You shrugged, a playful smile on your face. “You’re just better at it.”

“False, but I’ll take the compliment.”

“God, your ego has got to be massive now,” you mumbled, and he laughed, smile stretching across his face and dimples poking out.

“Alright, go start on your essay and I’ll cook something for us. Sound good?”

You beamed at him. “Perfect.” You bounced off his lap, grabbing your book and heading for your old room. “Love you!”

The words were called over your shoulder and Harry smiled at how perfect they sounded on your lips, how easy it was to answer back simply, “Love you more,” at your receding figure, the thought gracing his mind at how he’d like to be saying those words to you for a very, very long time.

HI I HOPE YOU LIKED IT!!!!!! COME TALK TO ME IN MY INBOX AND PLEASE REBLOG SO MORE PEOPLE GET TO READ/SEE THIS!!! XOXOXOXO LOVE YOUUUU

#harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles drabble #harry styles writing #harry styles x reader #harry styles x mc #harry styles smut #college harry styles #college!harry #college harry #roommate harry #roommate harry styles

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makeste · 3 years

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BnHA Chapter 301: All My Todorokis

Previously on BnHA: We learned that when a bunch of superpowered villains are suddenly set loose with nobody around to stop them, things get fucked pretty quickly. Old Man Samurai and a bunch of other useless people decided to make “I pretend I do not see it” their new mantra, and resigned. Endeavor had a moment of despair on account of being crushed by the guilt of having ruined the lives of himself, his family, and basically everyone else in the entire world. For various reasons the heretical notion of “person who has done bad things feels sorry for doing them” sent fandom spiraling into a meltdown, so that was fun. The chapter ended with the entire Todoroki clan descending upon Enji’s hospital room to have a dramatic chat about Touya and All That General Fuckery.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all “here’s the story of how Baby Touya slowly went insane trying to win his father’s love.” It’s a tale full of subverted expectations and heartbreaking inevitability, and also like twenty panels of the cutest fucking kids who ever existed on planet earth, who are so fucking cute that I can’t stop thinking about their cuteness even with all of the horrifying family tragedy unfolding around them. It is absolutely ridiculous how cute they are. Touya is out here pushing his tiny body past its limits because he inherited the same obsession as his dad and neither of them can put it aside even though it’s destroying them, and yet all I can think about is Baby Shouto’s (。･o･｡) face. Anyways what a chapter.

so I have to confess that even though I managed to avoid being caught off-guard by the early leaks, the number of people reblogging my Endeavor posts from earlier this week and using the tag “bnha 301” kind of gave me an inkling that this chapter will include more Tododrama lol. that said, I don’t know anything else about it, so we’re still good spoiler-wise

AHHHHH FLAHSBAKC AHHHH. omg I know I typoed the shit out of that, but I’m just going to leave it lol I think it’s fitting

holy shit holy fuck. so this is Rei and Enji’s first meeting, then??

yepppp, oh shit

so wait, I know this is not even the slightest bit important, but are they meeting at Enji’s home or Rei’s? because I always figured that Enji was the one with the super-Japanese aesthetic, but maybe that was Rei’s side of the family all along

(ETA: from what I found during my very brief google search, omiai meetings are often held at fancy hotels or restaurants, so maybe that’s what this is.)

there’s such a period drama feel to this setting. like it’s so outrageously formal fff how can anyone stand this kind of atmosphere though seriously

OH THANK GOD

I mean they’re still stiff af but at least they’re not rigidly sitting in seiza and staring at each other unblinkingly anymore lol. Enji’s actually got his hands in his pockets now. why is this somehow almost cute

oh damn it’s the flowers

Rei seems so subdued and it’s so hard to get any idea of what she’s actually thinking. I want to see her side of this dammit

but anyway, so at least from Enji’s perspective it seems like even though the marriage was arranged and he picked her because of her quirk, he still loved his wife and wanted to do right by her. the fact that he was watching her and noticed that she liked the flowers, and remembered that detail for all these years -- there’s a reason why Horikoshi’s showing us this. we know what’s going to happen later on; we know how much fear and violence and breaking of trust is coming up ahead, and while it may seem like this scene is serving to soften Enji’s character further -- which to be fair it is -- it also helps drive home the full impact of his abuse. that it’s so terrible not only because of the trauma of the abuse itself, but also because of the way it retroactively destroys all of the good things as well. this could have potentially been such a sweet scene, but it’s inescapably tainted by the knowledge of what’s to come, at least for me. and that’s just brutal

anyways, shit. is the whole chapter going to be like this?? feel free to toss in something I can actually make a joke about sometime, Horikoshi

oop, back to the present

omfg lol

“are you all right” “NO I’M NOT ALL RIGHT WHAT THE FUCK.” “oh, right, because of all the stuff that’s happened with me abusing you and you having a mental breakdown and being hospitalized for ten years and then our son coming back to life and killing thirty people, right, right. I almost forgot.” whoops

omfg you guys I’m loving this new and improved steely-eyed Rei. I’m loving her a lot

and what do you mean “part one” fkjds how long is this going to be. TOO MUCH DRAMA FOR ONE CHAPTER TO HANDLE

oh, hello

yeah I’ll say you did. didn’t seem to bother you much at the time, though

HMMMMMMMMMMMM

Dabi Is A Noumu intensifies even further. anyways though would you fucking look at this boy lounging on this moth-eaten couch doing his best DRAW ME LIKE YOUR FRENCH GIRLS impression wtf

Dabi what if you actually had killed him??? what would you feel?? satisfaction?? regret?? anything at all?? tell me your secrets goddammit

who are you talking to buddy

Fuyumi-chan, Natsu-kun (is it common for brothers to address each other as -kun?? can’t recall seeing that in many other anime, but hey), and “dot dot dot,,,,,, SHOUTO” lol thank you so much for this bountiful heaping of Tododrama Horikoshi we are blessed

AH, WHAT DID I SAY THE OTHER DAY

ULTIMATE MELODRAMATIC THEATER CHILD. “I’M JUST GOING TO LIE ON THIS COUCH SHIRTLESS AND ALONE AND MAKE SPEECHES TO MY FAMILY MEMBERS WHO AREN’T THERE AND SAY THINGS LIKE ‘WATCH ME IN THE PITS OF HELL’ WITH A STRAIGHT FACE BECAUSE NO ONE’S THERE TO JUDGE ME.” WELL JOKE’S ON YOU MISTER CHATTERBOX BECAUSE I AM IN FACT JUDGING THE SHIT OUT OF YOU LOL

(ETA: and on a more serious note, it’s interesting to see that “look at me”/”watch me” theme being used again though, because we see that same sentiment uttered repeatedly by the younger Touya in the flashback. well kid, you definitely got your wish at last. don’t know what else to say.)

OKAY HORIKOSHI HAS DECIDED THAT’S ENOUGH FUN, TIME FOR MORE FLASHBACKS

oh my sweet precious lord

just as cute as we left him. giving us a child this cute when we all know full well what’s going to happen to him is just unspeakably cruel though

HOMG

I’m fucking speechless. you broke me, congratulations. what am I even supposed to do with this

I can’t get over this. moving forward my life will be split into two distinct parts, B.P. (Before the Pout) and A.P. (After the Pout)

and meanwhile there’s ALL THIS BACKGROUND ANGST BUILDING UP, AND I CAN’T EVEN FOCUS ON IT. Touya’s arm and cheek are covered in bandages (I’m guessing this is shortly after that “ouch!” panel we got some chapters back), and Enji is deliberately avoiding training with him because he doesn’t want him to hurt himself further. I can’t fucking get over the irony that all this time everyone thought Touya had died because Enji pushed him too far in his training, and it turns out that it’s the opposite -- the tragedy ultimately happened because he didn’t want to push him. but I’m jumping ahead of myself though I guess

by the way,

remember this?? just wanted to remind you that it exists just in case you forgot

so now someone is talking and basically saying that Touya is the exact opposite of what Enji was hoping for when he decided to start playing with quirk genetics

-- okay hold up

...lol no, never mind. for a second I thought “holy shit he looks kind of familiar WHAT IF IT’S UJIKO OMG” before I remembered that Enji would have recognized him during the hospital capture mission if that was the case. so NEVER MIND, PROCEED

IMAGINE THAT, ENJI DOESN’T QUITE SEEM SATISFIED WITH THIS SUGGESTION OF QUITTING NOW

(ETA: how the fuck did this man go around saving 62 towns in a single day what even is All Might.)

[clicks tongue several times] trouble a’brewin’

MEANWHILE BABY TOUYA HAS UNFORTUNATELY INHERITED HIS DAD’S STUBBORN STREAK

KLDIHWOEIJFL:KSDJ

!!!!!!!!!!!

oh my god. oh my god. what is this chapter. WHAT IS IT

so now Touya is all “YOU JUST DON’T UNDERSTAND MY MANLY DESIRE TO BURN MYSELF ALIVE” well you got her there champ

THEY’RE TOO CUTE. OH MY GOD. HIS FURIOUS LITTLE TEARS. HER CHUBBY LIL FACE. HIS STUBBY LIL FISTS. SOMEONE HELP ME

also are they just home alone lol or what. “hey Touya, you’re what, like six now?? do us a favor and look after your baby sister for a couple hours for us would you? make sure not to set yourself on fire or anything.” WHAT COULD POSSIBLY GO WRONG!!

now it’s nighttime and Enji and Rei are arguing, presumably about his decision not to train Touya anymore

whew. okay. so, a couple of things here

1. first of all I think this conclusively shows that Enji really was trying to do the best he could for Touya. he stopped training him as soon as he realized it was hurting him, but Touya was still determined so he tried to make it work anyway, and even visited doctors to try and figure out if there was anything they could do. then, once they were absolutely sure that it wasn’t going to work, he tried multiple times to explain to Touya why they had to stop. he didn’t just abandon him out of the blue, which is really important to note. “no matter how much I tried telling him...”

so yeah, that debunks another common fandom accusation. so by the time he finally makes this decision, which we all know is going to turn out horribly, it’s basically because he’s already tried everything else he could think of. which, by the way, still doesn’t mean he handled this right. but at the very least he was taking Touya’s feelings into account and he was trying, and he didn’t just abruptly toss his son aside (at least not yet)

2. buuuut, then there’s this panel right below all that

which is the other side of it. if he’d just quit like the doctor person advised him to, that would have been the end of it. Touya would still have been upset, but he would have eventually gotten over it and the family would have moved on and possibly even been happy. but what happens next happens because Enji can’t let go. he still has this maddening urge to surpass All Might, and so he and Rei keep having more children, and then Shouto is born, and Enji finally has a kid he can start projecting all of his hysterical ambitions onto once again, and everything starts spiraling out of control soon after

though p.s. none of that is Shouto’s fault though!! he’s one of the few good things to come out of this whole mess and I’m very happy that he exists. the tragedy is that his dad fucking lost his mind over his quirk and fucked everything up. but that’s on him, not Touya or Shouto

anyways, SLKFJLSHGLKJL

I CAN’T FUCKING TAKE THIS YOU GUYS??? LOOK AT THAT LIL BUTTON OF A NOSE??? I’M LOSING IT HERE???

AND TOUYA JUST SEEMS DEVASTATED OMG

because children aren’t stupid, after all. he understands that his dad is still looking to surpass All Might. and so he feels like a failure, and feels like his dad is trying to replace him because he wasn’t good enough. and even now, isn’t that what the adult Touya is trying to prove?? that he was good enough after all?? “I’ll show you what happens when you give up on me, dad”?? “I’ll show you what I can do”?? fuck my life fuck everything

AND YOU CAN SEE THE TOLL THAT IT’S ALL TAKING ON REI GETTING WORSE AND WORSE AS WELL OH GOD

really nice touch here with the panel outlines becoming all shimmery from the heat of Endeavor’s flames (and/or becoming more unstable as the family gets closer and closer to their breaking point). but man, Horikoshi I can’t handle this, please show us more cute kids or something I can’t

GKELKWFJLDKSHFLKL

WITTLE BABE. BEEB. BUBS. SMOL. lkj; oh ouch a piece of my heart just detached and latched onto him huh look at that

TODOROKI “I’M SO SMALL AND I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT’S GOING ON AND I DIDN’T ASK TO BE HERE” SHOUTO AHHHHH

crazy how they all just seem to know right off the bat lol. kid doesn’t even have object permanence yet, let alone a quirk. but do they care?? IT’S THE HAIR, RIGHT. WE’RE ALL THINKING IT, I’M JUST GONNA COME OUT AND SAY IT. they knew the minute they looked at him lol

AND MEANWHILE TOUYA IS OFF HAVING UNSUPERVISED TRAINING/CRYING SESSIONS IN THE MOUNTAINS OR WHATEVER, AND, UH OH

are those blue flames yet?? they seem pretty close

(ETA: this is one of the few cases where the manga being in black and white is infuriating lol.)

OH MY GOD AND STILL

so it’s not like he was so disinterested that he didn’t notice what was happening, and he was still trying to stop it and get through to him. trying to reassure him that it wasn’t the end of the world and there were other things he could do with his life, but this one particular thing just wasn’t going to happen

fucking hell. it’s agonizing seeing how close they actually were to fixing it. if he’d only said the right words, or if he’d realized at this point how destructive his obsession could be to his kids, and backed off from putting that same pressure on Shouto. we came so close to possibly having a happy ending

AND ALSO THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH ANYTHING BUT PLEASE LOOK AT HOW TOUYA IS LIKE THREE AND A HALF FEET TALL AND HIS DAD IS LIKE NINE AND A HALF FEET. Touya barely comes past his knees flkjlkg. the Todoroki household must have been so filled with like plastic stepstools to reach the bathroom sink and all the little baby toothbrushes, and baby gates to keep the kiddos out of the important grown-up rooms and stuff. and also days-old half-empty cups of water and stale crackers and hot wheels and my little ponies strewn everywhere

“BUT EVERYONE AT SCHOOL SAYS THEY’RE GONNA BE HEROES” a wild Deku parallel appears?? how bout that

I know this is like a pivotal moment in the Todo Tragedy and all, but fucking look at this lil dumpling

“sup bro, it’s me, the manifestation of your fears of inadequacy and lack of fatherly affections. a GAAA. ba-baAA-baa [gurgling baby sounds]”

OHHHHH IT’S THE SOUND OF MY HEART BREAKING OH NO

HE WANTS TO BE LIKE YOU ENJI. good lord somebody please just get this family some therapy

“DAD YOU IGNITED IT IN ME” flkjslkj nope, nope. not ready for this pain here

baby Shouto, would you like to weigh in on this affair? “DA!! ba-ga-daaa, [pacifier chewing noises]” oh my, you don’t say. so insightful for one so young

OH MY GODDDDDD

IT’S SO DRAMATIC BUT ALL I CAN THINK ABOUT ARE THE SHOUNEN WOOSH LINES SURROUNDING FOUR-MONTH-OLD SHOUTO LOL HE WAS LIKE THIS FROM BIRTH OH MY GOD I AM DYING HELP

SHOUTO YOU’RE RUINING THIS ENTIRE CHAPTER!?!?!

“yo, the fuck kind of family was I fucking born into” oh, son. if you only knew. IF YOU ONLY KNEW!!

(ETA: lmao I got so distracted by the ridiculous cuteness that I glossed over the fact that Baby Touya seems to possibly be aiming at him?? it’s hard to tell because he’s also super out of it from heatstroke and may just be losing control in his attempt to show off his upgrade.)

ANYWAY THAT’S THE END EXCEPT WHAT’S THIS LAST LINE OMG

ffffff. and we’re in for ANOTHER chapter of this next week?? MORE drama?? MORE BABIES?? MORE OF EIGHT-YEAR-OLD TOUYA’S SLOW DESCENT INTO MADNESS. MY HEART CAN’T TAKE IT, BUT ALSO YES PLEASE SIGN ME UP

#bnha 301 #dabi #todoroki touya #endeavor #todoroki enji #todoroki rei #todoroki shouto #todoroki fuyumi #todoroki natsuo #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

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blackradandmad · 3 years

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why blippi is rotting yr children's brains

preface: i literally expect no one to read this. it is an essay length, strong opinion piece critiquing a niche youtube-based children's show that i don't expect most of y'all to even have knowledge of lol. but like, i promise that even if you know nothing about what i'm talking about, in my incredibly, super humble opinion, it's a good piece of writing and interesting nonetheless. anyway if you read this whole thing for some reason yr really hot and we should kiss.

i thoroughly vet everything my child watches before he watches it, episode by episode. and we rarely watch youtube for entertainment; we usually just look up educational videos when he has a question about something and wants more detail than i can provide him. and that's mainly because children's content on youtube is so fucking troubling and distressing. i don't judge parents who give their children a tablet at a restaurant at all bc i've been there and sometimes it's easier on everyone to just put on a video and avoid a giant scene, but i do judge parents who just leave their children alone with youtube kids on autoplay.

take stevin john, a literal millionaire who got famous from dressing up as a silly character called blippi and going on tours of places like aquariums, zoos, construction sites, etc and posting it on youtube. this has branched into a whole empire of blippi videos, hulu shows and specials, live shows and tours (that he outsources to another character actor), merchandise and so on. this 30-something year old man cites his main influence as being mr. rogers, but i question if he's ever even seen an episode of that program.

mr. rogers had no background in early childhood development or media production, but he revolutionized the world of children's media, because he respected his audience and didn't shy away from real world situations, all while creating a show with an enormous heart. mr. rogers begins his episodes by inviting the viewer in, literally changing his attire to be more comfortable, and talking about/doing things he genuinely cares about. whereas mr. rogers calmly and maturely addresses the viewer, blippi puts on a high pitched, contrived voice, interjecting every other sentence with a forced exclamation such as, "teehee! we're having so much fun!"

i don't find it a coincidence that john (blippi) is a veteran, either. his videos are completely devoid of the absurd, abstract, childlike thinking that makes children's media fun, creative, and entertaining. his thinking and process is methodical, devoid of emotion, and very superficial. this line of thinking clearly shows the kind of creative sterilization and emphasis on sameness and conformity instilled in the military. blippi simply observes things and interacts with them in a stale, matter-of-fact way. "this ball is purple! this ball is pink! anyway... what's over there? teehee! a car! vroom, vroom!" objects are colors, toy cars don't do anything but drive, curiosity is simply not encouraged.

he uses the "it's educational!" excuse to hide the fact that his show lacks everything that makes media a valuable resource for children to consume in the first place. further than identifying colors, numbers, and the occasional letter or shape, there is just this total lack of children's need for social and emotional development. when mr. rogers breaks the fourth wall to address the viewer and let them know they're special, it feels authentic and natural, because we've spent the last half hour building whole worlds with diverse characters and unique stories in a pretend neighborhood, learning about and enjoying different musical instruments, being exposed to and making friends with (even if parasocially, it is still a real bond to children when done properly) children who are similar to us in character regardless of physical or environmental differences, feeding the fish, making art together, and so on. when blippi tells the viewer, "you are very special, and i enjoy spending time with you!" it falls completely flat and feels unearned, because the last half hour was spent running around a soft play center pointing at bright, colorful objects, visiting interesting locations like farms or fruit production factories while failing to acknowledge the humanity of the humans actually working there (everything is machine or product focused; the human workers are simply an extension of the machine), learning "fun facts" about elephants that just list attributes of elephants, not taking the opportunity to inform the viewers of elephants' intelligence, or diet, or matriarchal society. it is a loud, sensory overwhelming display of a man so disconnected from the social and emotional needs and desires of children that he assumes they're stupid, easily entertained idiots who only need some silly dances and fast-moving cartoon graphics to give their attention (meaning time and desire to purchase products meaning $$$). john clearly views his audience as a means to gaming the algorithm and ultimately a paycheck by the hollow way he addresses them.

the show is so narcissistic, so focused on all the fun blippi is supposedly having, but he lacks any of the character traits that make individual children's show hosts memorable, so much so that he was able to have someone else who doesn't even vaguely resemble him dress as blippi and impersonate him and host the show or appear at live shows, and it went unnoticed by most of his toddler and child audience. the show is so formulaic and the character of blippi is so unmemorable that instead of taking the blue's clues route of developing a story of the host leaving for college and his brother now stepping in, or making some sort of believable excuse for the change in actors, they can simply swap him out with some random guy and not acknowledge it at all. although a comedy show for older children, the amanda show in no way could or would try to replicate the show with the same name but swapping out amanda bynes with a random teenage girl who is clearly not amanda bynes. it's weird and nonsensical and shows that his character is so much of a farce put on for a paycheck that not even his dedicated audience is affected or even cares when he is replaced by a random, unknown person.

this is completely garbage content made by an opportunist with no experience with children who saw his nephew watching children's youtube content, took it at complete surface level and still hasn't realized that while children's content only looks and feels so easy, entertaining, and enriching because it is so hard to do well. even with outsourcing his music, that aspect of the show still sucks. famous and successful children's musician, raffi, is known for his song describing the life of a little white whale, called "baby beluga." it opens with a calm strumming of his guitar, followed by the lyrics, "baby beluga in the deep blue sea/swim so wild and you swim so free/heaven above/sea below/and a little white whale on the go." is it silly and kind of pointless? yes, but the point is that he is captivating children and showing them the fun of listening to music, dancing, singing, and appreciating art. the "excavator song" featured in an episode of blippi about construction vehicles opens with what sounds like a default garageband loop and the flatly sung lyrics, "i'm an excavator/i'm an excavator/hey dirt, see you later/i'm an excavator." i don't feel i have to meticulously analyze the aforementioned lyrics; the stark contrast should speak for itself.

i have a million more criticisms about both blippi specifically and youtube children's content as a whole, but this is already so long and i doubt many people will get this far anyway. it's an issue i was completely apathetic towards until i had my own child and had to wean him off these kinds of junk food shows because i realized the fast-paced visuals and bright colors and repetitive songs/lyrics were putting him in this spaced-out, fugue state, and he thought he could demand this show or that show whenever he wanted. the moment he started regularly yelling things like, "watch! cars!" or "no! click it!" i knew i had to be a lot more invested in the things he watched even if just for entertainment or as a soothing message. i showed him an episode of mr. rogers yesterday and feared it would be too slow to hold his attention, but he was mesmerized, greeting and interacting with mr. rogers verbally, asking me, "what's that?" to different objects on the screen. since purging this low-brow children's entertainment, he has had a noticeable increase in attention span and concentration, can focus on a task for longer amounts of times, is more likely to "read"/look through books without me initiating it, and doesn't throw a fit when the tv/my laptop is off.

i just know that for me, growing up with so much unsupervised internet access definitely led me to real-world pain and consequences, and it seems like now children are born with an iphone as an extension of their arm. if my child is going to be consuming videos, i'm definitely supervising every second and am going to be highly critical of the videos and the credentials (or lack thereof) of the creators and team behind it. but i also know, from pure observation admittedly, that parents letting youtube kids autoplay parent their children for hours at a time is not an uncommon occurrence. and it worries me that a generation of children are being raised on videos that rely on being as loud and bright and superficially enjoyable as possible. what's the use of a child knowing their colors and alphabet if they don't know how to treat people with kindness and empathy and respect? there is something wrong for a children's show host to plug the spelling of his name at the end of his videos ("well, that's the end of this video. but if you wanna watch more of my videos, just type in my name! can you spell my name with me? b-l-i-p-p-i!") after essentially rotting his audiences' brains for a half hour. there's something so insidious about the prioritization of naming different parts of construction vehicles over honest depictions of and conversations about dealing with feelings, or why someone with autism may act differently than you, or what to do when you feel lonely, or ways to make art and express yrself creatively. also, not to mention the blatant police propaganda and outright worship is seriously jarring; as a black mother to a visibly non-white child, i cannot sit there and watch blippi show kids how to be a bootlicker for the shittiest profession on earth, but that could be a whole essay in and of itself.

anyway, thanks for reading, if yr looking for quality children's content, i recommend, in no specific order: mr. rogers, sesame street, the electric company, molly of denali, daniel tiger, bluey!, blue's clues, the odd squad, word party, trash truck, puffin rock, uhh... that's definitely not an extensive list but that's just off the dome!!! ok bye y'all <333

#lil rambles #long post t #idk why it's formatted like this ig cos i copy pasted from my fb?#whatever anyway idk why i waste my writing skills on shit literally nobody else but me cares abt #blippi #children's television

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feuqueerfire · 2 years

Text

Blueming Live Blogging

I've just heard so much praise about this in the last day or two since the whole show has been released, so I'm really curious to watch it! I just know it's something about one kid going to university, planning to be extremely attractive, and then not liking another kid who's really attractive also? Or something like that lol, I love knowing very little about a show before I go into it.

Episode 1 (Apr 1)

setting up the plot with our mans Siwon getting chosen as leader and getting a pep talk about being handsome from the teacher (?) in the first 3 minutes

the people on the streets clearly thinking he's handsome even though he's dancing around awkwardly lol and here we see the true privilege of beauty because people didn't just call him weird under their breath and cross the street

same vein, i liked how easy it was to tell that people were impressed by his looks without like the over-the-top squealing and photo-taking that happens in some other BLs, usually Thai ones

i hope we continue to have these family scenes with Siwon's mom and sister

lmfao Siwon's "I also have a photoshoot to get to" the second hand embarrassment T.T especially because Dawoon obviously sees through it and gives him a tight-lipped smile goodbye

naaauuurrr the gif I've seen multiple times of Dawoon seeing Siwon eating alone is from the very first episode after Siwon turned out Dawoon being nice and offering to eat together ?!?!

like when I saw the gif I thought it was so cute how Dawoon was mouthing "맛있게 먹어" while doing that eating gesture but asdfghjkl it's actually deeply embarrassing

Woah the dynamics and repercussions of Siwon waving during the lecture, Dawoon looking away, everybody else waving at Siwon, thus Dawoon also waving

I forgot it's just a 12 minute episode so was like O.o when it just ended

honestly, I'm kinda hooked already because I wanna see how their relationship will unfurl because clearly they're headed for a rivalry/dislike thing first

Episode 2 (Apr 1)

Ooh, a flashback to get us to empathize with Siwon's character. I think it's a good idea to give us some background and the sob story early on because now we'd be inclined to let stuff slide, especially because I think Siwon might be a little bitch for an episode or two.

lmfao School Assigned Project Partners

I like this dynamic of Siwon being so strung up and trying to upstage Dawoon without making it obvious that he's trying to do so and Dawoon just laughing about it by himself and teasing/picking on Siwon, like how he pretends to order a long complicating thing that Siwon'll have to pay for before saying jk AA is fine and how he asks why Siwon likes these movies when he names some pretentious ones

Basically, what I'm saying is Siwon's annoying because he keeps trying to be above it all and Dawoon's annoying because he keeps egging Siwon on but actually, it's a fun dynamic

Siwon is so freaking aware of Dawoon

Drunk Siwon is so 😬 All his insecurities truly coming out and he's just saying whatever to Dawoon

I take it back, Drunk Siwon is hilarious *crying* "Because of you, my 20s are ruined" and all Dawoon has done is be mildly annoying

Dawoon putting his jacket under Siwon's head so that it's comfy against the car seat?

Woooahhhh Dawoon taking care of drunk Siwon is so >.<

Episode 3 (Apr 1)

Siwon avoiding Dawoon and Dawoon reveling in it is hilarious

Siwon being so worked up and Dawoon being so normal about it like "well you left your socks in my home and also we have assignments to do so we can't avoid each other"

Does Siwon's sister and this girl who got paint on his shirt know each other? They're not a side wlw couple right? I would've certainly heard about it. Gosh, I wish they were <- says guy who hasn't witnessed any interactions between these two characters but is always looking for GL subtext in BLs

Bro who issss this random guy who keeps telling Yunjeong (?) that he likes her better with longer hair and keeps asking her to be in his film even though she doesn't want to

Wait is there a side f/f?! the shot of them exchanging the bag and Siwon's sister saying "언니 다시 보고 싶어요" before cutely running away all shy um

over 25% into the show and I'm enjoying it thus far!

Episode 4 (Apr 1)

a little explanation about Siwon's sister Siyeong barking

Dawoon wishing Siwon a good night sleep/good dreams and Siwon being deeply confused is >.<

Nooo, is Yunjeong developing a crush on Siwon? She's so cute, I don't want her heartbroken

umm Dawoon being like "Well, if you do me wrong, will you buy me bread too?" to tease Shiwon but also... but also... because he's jealous?

Dawoon keeps witnessing Siwon in vulnerable moments, like when he was very drunk and now when his father (?) called for him and he ran away

The biking scenes remind me of Utsukushii Kare and also makes me miss biking. Ah, summer is coming

I am truly a lover of honorifics but sometimes being a lover of honorifics means fully enjoying the dynamics where there aren't honorifics. I love the way Dawoon calls him Siwon-ah when addressing him because they're the same age

Aaaaakkkk, Dawoon giving explanations for the things Siwon has said bothers him and saying he laughs a lot around Siwon because he finds him cute >.< and then laughing when Siwon is all pouty about it like why would you find me cute

"I told you to stop laughing. When you laugh my mind goes black. And I get queasy, so stop laughing." Siwon saying this all with a straight face and all pouty, oh boy do I have some news for you

asklfj The way my mouth fell open when Dawoon put a hand on the side of Siwon's head and kissed his own hand. Cheeky and bold. Rewound and watched it 3 times, too lol

Episode 5 (Apr 1)

Dying at the fact that Siwon's mother keeps accidentally yelling/saying too much in front of guest Dawoon. Then in the end offers him protein shake lmfao

Siwon giving Dawoon bandaids to take care of his injury all coolly and carelessly but obviously he cares ! When trying not to show affection is affection

Nothing is more arrow straight to the heart than Bad Buddy parallels actually. Pran who likes Pat looking down at him from a very similar position to this vs Dawoon who likes Siwon looking down at him

Wuuahhh this birthday scene was just hit after hit after hit to my tender heart, truly. First Dawoon egging Siwon on to get a cake to see how far he'd go even though it's so late at night before saying he's just kidding, Dawoon saying "I had a great day today," then finally... biggest hit of them all... when Siwon offers him a gift, Dawoon says he wants to hang out more at Siwon's place T.T

Oh noooo, conflict 😟

Hmm do I have this correct? This sunbae submitted their idea to a contest and had asked Siwon for feedback on their idea + Siwon had said he wouldn't submit anything for it. Then, we find out Siwon actually won the contest with his own pitch and also Dowoon's parents sponsor this contest. So now the sunbae is pissed and insituates that Siwon won because he's close with Dowoon. Also, is it hinting that Siwon didn't even submit the pitch, meaning Dowoon (or maybe his sister since she had his laptop but idk if she knows about the contest) did? Or did Siwon just do it on a whim, not thinking he'd win?

Episode 6 (Apr 1)

I have schoolwork to do but consider: I want to know what happens next. We're over halfway through already, oh no

Ooh, so it was his sister, okay. So Dowoon didn't like breach his trust or something

I get that their mother had a very bad falling out with their dad and he left their life terribly but as they're growing up, she can't force them hate him and have no contact with him

Man, this sunbae is such a dick. As expected, because they were leaning hard on him judging Siwon nicely because of his good looks, saying leadership and attractiveness should be level, etc.

Aw, Dawoon supporting him. + Siwon telling him to call his parents

How does Dawoon know Siwon's bike lock password to be able to bring the bike to his house lol. Cute, though. Dawoon looking out for Siwon is freaking cute.

Fuccck "Why would you run?" "You said you were on your way here" Dawoon says as he's out of breath. That's sooo like Dawoon just dropped everything and met Siwon halfway even though Siwon was already coming to him, that's so fucked up that is sooo fucked up

After Colour Rush I was like I'm not allowed to forget that brown = 갈색 because his mom's brown shoes are mentioned often. After this show, bike = 자전거 better be engraved in my mind; I know the vocab anyway and if someone says 자전거 I know it's bike but if I'm trying to think of the Korean word for bike, I forget sometimes. So, no more forgetting please!

Ooh lol the bike password thing is actually brought up, interesting

"Why on earth do you like me?" O.O I could feel that something was gonna happen during this talk but I didn't expect to lead with this

Dude, this whole convo was so good. I didn't even pause every 30 seconds to give my thoughts

I like that Siwon was straightforward being like "Why do you like me?" and Dawoon didn't deny it or make excuses.

I like that Siwon apologized for saying mean things to Dawoon

I like the fact that Siwon just... tells Dawoon things? Like yes, I'm insecure, I wasn't sure you'd like me if you found out who I really am and was, I wish I was cool like you, etc.

I like when Dawoon stroked Siwon's head and once he stopped, Siwoon put his hand back on his head and was like nooo comfort me more

I liked the hug

I liked getting to see Dawoon being like I'm gonna sleep over at your house, then using his little coupon.

Also, not from this scene, but I like how there hasn't been really any actual conflict between Dawoon and Siwon. There was friction before they became friends but since then, they've been open with each other. Like this episode I was worried that the fact that Dawoon's parents hosted the competition would drive a wedge between them but Siwon asked all matter-of-factly whether Dawoon told me to choose his scenario and Dawoon was like lol they're busy, I haven't spoken to them, and that was that.

I wouldn't be surprised if they do have a conflict or two between them in the next half of the show, it would make sense from a story and relationship point but thus far I'm pleasantly surprised by how they've been communicating and not letting things fester.

Anyway I wanna watch ep 7 right now but I'll think of it as a reward for doing some schoolwork, hopefully I can do it and not just cheat and watch anyway.

Episode 7 (Apr 1)

Woahh, respect to Yunjeon for standing up to the sunbae consider 1) he's a sunbae 2) a man 3) it's dark 4) they're alone but she really said I thought your scenario was too provocative, you didn't even place 5th in the contest, stop harassing me and Siwon. I hope she's not actually into Siwon or that if she is, she doesn't become too sad at the heartbreak and also that maybe my f/f theory is correct.

Oh my god O.O fuck, I'm so proud of her, I'm glad she knew how to defend herself. "I envy you that this isn't a big deal for you." my heart just broke

What's this glasses guy's name again? He and Yujeong could be good friends or date or whatever, I don't mind. As long as Yujeong isn't heartbroken in the end. I believe in Hwang Da Seul to not do that to us

Dude, the fact that they gave us this long-ass scene with Yujeong + her and the glasses guy but I wasn't upset about it even though I'm eager to see more Siwon and Dawoon?

Bro, they're so cute and also tender. Makes my nose scrunch

The sunbae thinking of Dawoon as a rich brat and so Dawoon playing it up (but coldly) is soooo good

Dude, Siwon being like "I was cute and cool back then too, right?" has actually killed me. This confidence and kindness to his past self is so T.T

Duuude this umbrella scene reminds me of 18 Again. Just like the Bad Buddy parallel, this was also arrow straight to the heart.

I like the music choices here

I'm really, really enjoying this show so far. I should leave the last 4 episodes for tomorrow. Have something to look forward to lol

Episode 8 (Apr 2)

I have learned that Dawoon did ask his parents to choose Siwon's scenario... I was relieved when he was like "I don't even get to talk to my parents" even though it's not a straight answer and when he had his phone call with his mom about writing a review of the scenario, I did have an inkling... but I decided to ignore it all because no. I'll choose to forget it until the story reveals it so that I can enjoy whatever time they have being cute and happy before the reveal

"Let's go somewhere else." "Where?" "Great movie directors work on their scenarios in hotels." aslk;dfj Dawoon is so bold. "Why are you surprised?" "I'm not surprised." Well, I'm surprised.

Impulsively going to the sea and eating roasted clams together, so cute

Gong... will be a thing, right? Right?! I'm assuming no because nobody's talking about them but likei riln my head they will be

Ayo, this show is wild because I'll be watching a scene and have so many thoughts but be unwilling to pause in order to come here and write things down... Makes me want to not break the immersion and just watch the whole scene at once, so I did. That beach scene... nice

Dawoon's there for Siwon often and Siwon also trying to be there for Dawoon, learn more about him, validate his worries, etc. Also, him saying "That was probably the wrong metaphor." is cute somehow

cute ass kiss, I loved how Siwon got too eager and Dawoon had to stop him and be like "Relax" before kissing him again. I am a lover of characters communicating how they like to be kissed/touched/etc like in Not Me ep 9-1 when Sean and White kept asking each other if the other liked what they were doing + in Semantic Error when Sangwoo was like let me know before you touch me to Jaeyoung (and Jaeyoung resorting to holding onto his backpack and hoodie to respect that).

"Shall we stay the night?" aiaiai

Episode 9 (Apr 2)

head in hands

we couldn't really see the nsfw scene because it's all silhouettes but it was still romantic and not awkward

dawoon listing the stuff he likes about siwon T.T

them being so comfortable and cuddly but it getting derailed by teasing and pillow fight >.< so cute

Woah, okay I knew the bombshell was gonna drop here but isn't "If it wasn't for you, his work wouldn't have even made in the rank" too cruel?

Like... it does make sense because he really is just a freshman, it makes sense that his skills aren't polished and good enough to win a whole competition. Dawoon just got way too greedy, I suppose, wanting Siwon to win.

This means the dickhead sunbae was right + it took away an opportunity from people who deserved it because the competition funder's son's friend won the scenario and their son directed it lol. It's true, the business is all about connections - as is pretty much every other industry

I have a meeting for an hour, so I'll just... have to sit there with this feeling of discomfort and curiosity I guess

Episode 10 (Apr 2)

While I was in this meeting from 12:40-1:40pm on a Saturday, people are dying over Cutie Pie ep 7 and Kinnporsche Ep 1. Tumblr dashboard so hectic right now lol. Anyway, I'm here to watch this conflict boil over and I'm so nervous about it

Thing is I don't know how I want this to go. I'd love it if the conflict isn't very long and drawn-out and explosive because I've been enjoying how teasing and quiet and cute the interactions between the two have been but also... Dawoon making his friend/crush win the contest his parents are hosting is so blagh

Dawoon constantly lying by saying "No" even though it's obviously "Yes" is fucking me up. I would hate it.

Fuck.

Woah, this family conflict scene is also done really well. I understand both sides, even though I don't like the mom

Nah, no way you're gonna be jealous of Yujeong again Dawoon. I refuse.

The To My Star reference huhu

It's actually interesting, despite being annoying, to watch Dawoon try to make up to Siwon because it's so clear he's never had to do this before. He hasn't had to chase friends, apologize, or admit wrongdoings.

Girl no way the penultimate episode ends with Dawoon walking away, Siwon's gonna call him back right now, right?

Okay no but it really is sooo interesting to me that Dawoon just kept saying "No" to every question during their confrontation in the forest and now he just kept saying "I'm sorry" like he's not able to express how he feels. At first since he kept saying No, I thought maybe he has trouble with admitting the truth but now after the repeating I'm Sorrys I'm thinking he just has trouble with expressing himself in these situations where he's clearly in the wrong and has hurt somebody

Episode 11 (Apr 2)

Interesting to see the contrast of Siwon's family dinner with Dawoon's. How it's dysfunctional in a different way. Also, Dawoon may be dreaming.

This resolution is confusing to me, did they... properly discuss things? Seems very quick to go from how they were that morning to hugging in the middle of the street with no words exchanged. It doesn't give me confidence that they'll know how to deal with problems in the future. Also, I think Dawoon is actually just dreaming.

Okay, so that was just a dream/daydream. Wish it was a bit more clear and also shorter because I want real-life stuff to happen satisfyingly

That was a pretty good resolution. Dawoon came with the what he did wrong, why he did, sorry, assuring it won't happen again. Siwon also got to say his frustrations and why he hated what Dawoon did. In the end, they're both so freaking relieved.

Dawoon admitting that he was practicing his apology script on the way over. I guess it really is that he just doesn't quite know how to express his feelings in these situations and doesn't know how to answer back/reply to Siwon demanding things. He'd repeat the same phrase or he just turned and walked away at the end of last episode but I guess when he has time to figure out what he wants to say and isn't interrupted, he can get it out

wuahh Dawoon being more vulnerable toward Siwon, finally revealing he actually first came to the beach to contemplate whether he actually wanted to pursue film

What did Dawoon whisper in Siwon's ear asklf

Okay, I think that was a satisfying ending.

Interesting characters, good acting (though not great), family dynamics galore, nice visuals and cinematography, a touch/hint of GL, held my attention because I didn't have to go watch a Not Me clip or read a Not Me fic in the middle (I've done this for every show since I finished Not Me lol), the show felt natural, earnest, and heartfelt. I liked the conflicts in the show because they felt... real. They were scandalous in a sense because divorce! single mother! winning a competition via connections! but it all felt grounded in its portrayal. None of the conflicts felt like they were just in there to throw a wrench in the relationship because that's how stories work but rather, they were in line with the characters and their lives thus far.

I'm praising it and I don't really have many criticisms (ex. certain things could've been explained clearer, I think the dialogue writing wasn't super strong in some intense moments) but it's also not a higher rating because it didn't really mess with my emotions or fuck me up over the characters. I was engaged while watching the show but now that it's done, I'm not spending time thinking about the characters, I'm not going to read fic for them or watch the actors' interviews. It's kind of a forgettable story. It's a good experience while watching but it won't drag me into fandom.

Rating: 6.5/10 7/10

Tiktoks: (June 19)

Daun and Siwon’s first kiss where Daun was like relax after Siwon came on too strong

Compilation of times when Siwon was taken aback by Daun’s forwardness or confusing ass actions

Edit June 21: I think that maybe it did leave more of an effect on me than I thought like sometimes I watch Blueming tiktoks and gifsets on tumblr and I was reminded of the family fight scene today while watching Life: Love on the Line and I think I'll raise it up to a 7. Also, recently I tagged this in a gifset for it, so I think a 7 is deserved: if someone were to ask me if blueming changed the trajectory of my life the answer would be no bc it didnt, but sometimes i am struck suddenly by such Fondness for this show that maybe it did change a part of me that can't go back to as it was befo

#blueming #ep by ep commentary

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papers4me · 3 years

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Fruits Basket Manga Review , ch 110

The writer doesn’t need to rush to akito (antagonist) & give us quick background exposition & escalate her mentality to the exploding moment, simply cuz tohru (the protagonist) isn’t emotionally in her most vulnerable moment yet. Tohru’s issues will be presented deeper with each pov chapter she’ll have. So what should the writer do now?

This is a connected plot, meaning the emotions belonging to the previous chapter are still lingering & needs to be dealt with. There is no stupid laughing & cooking or even dumber momentarily amnesia. Nope! There is this:

-The Art of Writing Slow-Burns: (Lingering Emotions:)

Last time kyo hugged tohru thro the sheets. sth he wouldn’t do if it weren’t for the heartbreaking moment of tohru’s tears & the reason behind them. Why wouldn he do it? cuz he believes he’s the reason of her pain & is setting his mind on leaving her & being imprisoned as a punishment. He wouldn’t do it cuz he loves her but he did it cuz he loves her. why? cuz love is illogical. Kyo’s heart moved him effortlessly to embrace her & “ his tenderness covered her pain” as the writer put it at the end of ch109.

Last time tohru hugged kyo thro the sheets, sth she wouldn’t do if it weren’t for the comfort of his warmth enveloping her loneliness & providing safety & a home. A home can a person. Why wouldn she do it? cuz Tohru is someone who hides pain behind a smile, someone who thinks she’s ugly & unlovable cuz she’s grieving still after all this time. She’s thinks she’s a burden. But here she confessed to kyo unprompted or advised by anybody. He only asked a fleeting question. but tohru cant hide who she is friom him anymore. Still, he accepted her & tenderly held her thro the sheets & she threw her body at him, she initiated the hug.

The sheet hig is the biggest emotional moment between kyo/tohru yet. It altered how they feel for each other cuz in that moment tohru’s mask fell & kyo was the most honest with himself emotionally. That’s not sth you move from with the stupid ED song. They both try to carry out normally afterwards cuz they live together after all. The slightest touch brings..... sexual tension!!! it was so bad poor yuki left the house running!!!!!!!!

The writer cleverly escalates the sexual tension as they awkwardly try to find a talking topic, then dissolves it a bit when kto asks if tohru wants to go out together & where, then escalates it when tohru suggests buying eggs cuz she’s awkward, then dissolves it when kyo grumpily agrees but this is just grocery shopping” not a fun going out”, the escalates it when tohru said she’s happy for just bring together with him regardless of the location & kyo looses it! sexual tension explodes!

The target of the slow-burn isn’t the characters... the target is the audience! the writer plays with their emotions & cleverly puts the audience in a place where they desperately want these two idiots together but still remember why they aren’t! that’s very important. Having the readers cheer for a romantic relationship includes the readers understanding the obstacles ahead & how big they are & still cheer. If the obstacles are meh~ the readers will find the couple unrealistic, if the obstacles are so big & the couples emotions aren't buildup properly, then the couple themselves will feel meh~. Glad kyoru survived such writing mistakes both manga & anime ( anime hurt their characters more than their relationship).

-Yuki wants to move on from the unofficial son third wheeling his mom & her man:

The writer jokes abt yuki admitting he felt as a son watching his mon & her bf. I love tha this joke becuz it cleverly addresses the following points:

it is cleverly weaved in with the kyoru incident from last chapter. Sth happen & yuki doesn't know what is & doesn't want to! Yuki represents the audience I talked abt in the slow-burn point above. He is us. He’ll cheer for them to be together & will be so frustrated when they can’t. It adds to yuki confronting kyo at the climax!!! You see in the anime kyo/yuki stopped interacting much in se03. Then tada~~ big fight when it’s a must! & can’t be escaped... Here we still have kyo/yuki moments despite each boy moving away from his issues being the fault of the other. Basically better writing.....

The writer cleverly used this to address that yuki still feels like tohru’s son sometimes despite being more independent now, which is natural as you cant switch ur feelings with a button. But also the writer doesnt stay in this moment long & use it to build the next moment.. yuki/Aya , yuki/machi & aya/mine.... sadly all there dynamics are shortened in the anime like kyoru’s.

-I don’t think yuki/Aya moment suffered much from the cuts, the entire school parents meeting ep us enough to reconcile the brothers. Aya defended yuki that day & so did yuki. He completely accepted him & stood up to him in front of the mom.

- More aya/mine would’ve been good to see & I would’ve preferred it to yuki/motoko moments in the anime that served nothing. but aya/mine too are stand alone story. They’re the most alike couple in a healthy way. Aya is the guy who protected his woman the most. simply cuz he’s the snake. snakes are secretive. he kept her to himself, even from yuki!!! impressive.

- What I lament from the cut of this mini yuki adventure?

1- This: ( yuki’s facial expressions) This is sth the anime fears, either cuz (a) pretty yuki is 100% pretty all the time, so no expressiveness cuz it leads to showing eyebrows & hiding them under layers of hair is the A.B.C of pretty characters... (b) Yuki in the anime is a prince 98% of the time, except with kyo (they got rid of this in se03 & give them one honest/ugly moment together) & with kakeru (one tiny moment in se03 in match’’s focus ep & then quickly back to prince yuki!)..., ugh!!!!!! I hate how yuki is prince thro & thro in the anime!!that’s why they couldn’t get rid of any motoko content!!! he’s a prince there... heck! school girls float after him the graduation ceremony... what’s up with that!! lol.

2-. This: ( machi with the toy that tohru/kisa/kagura/momiji & kiro like! so cute!!! also, foreshadowing yuki’s future chosen extended family! (his bro & his wife), (yuki & his wife) & best friend/his brother in law! Also, yuki is so himself! no glitters, no bubbles & no pretending anger! <3

Side Notes:

The lovely @mizzraynelly made notice kto’s speech in ch109 abt not vising his mom’s grave! Even tho it’s such a minor line, it’s one of the biggest cuts that foreshadow the accumulation of kyo’s guilt towards his mom. Kyo’s thing is guilt towards ppl he loves & fear of hurting them, by keeping this feeling alive in readers’ minds, the writer is making sure that the climax will hurt like sharp knives cuz the readers are on the same wave liength as kyo!!! epic buildup consists of tiny subtle pieces!

Luckily, kyoru as a ship felt so strong in both manga & anime despite the later cutting half of their moments. Why? cuz the chosen cuts didnt affects the romantic relationship...no... the cuts affects the characters’ own personal struggle... most precisely tohru. Kyo’s own character struggles had better luck in the anime despite the cuts, simply cuz (a) was drawn with very expressive emotions & the anime team lingered on them in his scenes. (b) His character design as a whole was very expressive, the anime team didnt give him constant wide eyes like tohru & didn’t fear expr4essivness will affect for his “beauty “ like yuki. (c) kyo was given one ep per season for his issues which altho not much but way better than tohru (d) most important: kyo’s issues are very universal & very relatable” feeling guilt, mistakes & choosing wrong. That’s sth we all do!!! Tohru’s thing is grieve: this is very personal & most ppl experience it differently.

I love kyo’s oufit!!! we have a hint of this moment in se03, ep 10 when yuki was fighting kyo... but they made yuki see them shopping as opposed of him seeing them being sexually charged!

I’m so mad this kyoru moment is cut!!!!!! tohru as a woman with pending sexual emotions is so refreshing & underrated in the trope of “ girl saves guys”. Also, it contradicts the pure mom image that’s been suffocating her since se01 ep 1!!!!! oh now i know why it’s cut... That’s why! momma tohru is so pure for such things & only when it’s the last two eps, then will allow her to be a woman choosing to live away with her man by her own desire! Why the anime only allow things ti happen when there’s no escape!!! I’ve always felt tohru/kyo is the type of couple to be expressive emotionally & sexually with each other based on seeing that ALL of their romantic interaction involves body language & I’m so happy there’s a canon proof so early before the future glimpse in finale!!!!!!

I liked the aya-story, but it felt like the typical “ lesson of the day” formula, so I didnt analyze it much, but I enjoyed the brotherly interaction so much!! It had a gold mine of yuki being himself & so nit a prince! Im so happy I saw it! <3.

Every time yuki looked expressive is a happy moment for me!

#Fruits Basket #anime only #fruits basket manga #manga review #manga spoilers #sleepy paper #ch 110

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bigskydreaming · 3 years

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Something else to keep in mind is the way things compound? Like for instance, I’ve seen a mini trend of fics lately focusing on the issue of Dick dropping out of college or not wanting to go, which for the record, I feel is another way of building up to the idea that he and Bruce have all these fights during this period that are two way streets instead of like....what canon actually was (reminder that in the canon that Dick actually dropped out he and Bruce actually were never really NOT on good terms, like there’s never been a big fight in the comics about this topic so.....incheresting).

But anyway, my point is its worth keeping in mind that how you frame something at one point in a narrative like.....ideally, you want it to mesh up and align with other things you’ve brought up throughout the narrative, and not accidentally contradict yourself narratively.

I mean, this is really the big gripe most Dick Grayson fans have with his fanon characterization overall:

The fact that it just doesn’t make sense.

In Jason-centric fics that are after his resurrection, how often is Jason utterly convinced that Dick can’t even wipe his ass without Bruce’s approval? And yet in Jason-centric fics that are before his death, how often is Jason thinking about how Dick and Bruce are constantly fighting and Bruce can’t seem to do anything without Dick objecting? Reconcile these two things. They make no sense.

Same thing with fics that talk about Dick being the emotional glue of the family, the one keeping a cool head to calm down everyone else when they’re all taking shots at each other.....until randomly he just pops off without warning because he’s just that hot-tempered. These things mesh, how?

Same thing with Dick being frequently referenced as idealized by the hero community......but every time he interacts with someone like Roy or Kori or other Titans he can’t seem to avoid pissing them off and creating epic grudges. Make it make sense.

Or how Dick disliked or didn’t care about Jason to the extent that he only references him as a cautionary tale because of one line in canon......but the whole damn story where he kills the Joker because of Jason doesn’t count.

Or how its not okay to blame Dick for his own rapes but both of his major breakups which are intrinsically linked to the actions of his rapists like....were clearly and objectively all his fault somehow.

Dick Grayson fans aren’t on board with most of fanon because you can’t sell people on a constantly conflicting characterization that makes no sense and has no internal consistency.....you can only cater to people who don’t NEED to be sold on that because they’ve already decided they’re down with hating a character or largely ignoring him.

And I think people have gotten so used to not thinking twice about contradictory takes on Dick Grayson that they unintentionally undermine their own fics by contradicting themselves without even realizing it.

Like its ridiculously common to come across fics that reference Dick being beloved and charming everyone at the society galas they all have to go to.....but these fics take pot shots at Dick’s name, fashion, mannerisms etc all throughout it just because the author likes it or fans expect it or whatever reason.

But actually THINK about it:

Think how snobby the socialites at these galas are characterized as being any time its Jason their noses are turned down at.....and then look at like.....the constant jokes you as the author make YOURSELF at Dick’s very name, fashion and circus origins......how on Earth does it make ANY sense that these same people aren’t doing the same damn thing about Dick? That they’re actually any more fond of him than they are Jason, if no matter how charming he might be in the moment, the second he turns around its just as easy and likely for them to make a joke about his circus background or name as it is for writers and readers? If you can’t resist doing it, you really think snobby one percenters would bother in-universe?

Hell, they’d be more likely to hate him BECAUSE of his name, his fashion, etc.....because think of how often people not so subtly infer that he’s making a bad choice when he refuses to go by a different name, or dress more accordingly to normal fashions, etc.....

Dick has a million ways he could more easily fit in with the society he was brought into and ease his passage through it, but he puts his foot down at practically every opportunity. The idea that everybody is just dazzled by him at these galas makes no sense because the most consistent character choice made by Dick throughout the decades is that he refuses to CONFORM to others’ expectations of what he should be like.

EVERY SINGLE CHOICE he makes from his name to his wardrobe to his costumes to his education to his city to his living arrangements and on and on is in complete and utter DEFIANCE of what people expect of the eldest son or ward of Bruce Wayne, Prince of Gotham, and that’s by Dick’s conscious and consistent choice. He knows damn well how to be more what people want or expect of him, and that’s not what he wants so he says mmmm but also how bout no.

Dick constantly embodies the idea that you can take the boy out of the circus but you can not and will not take the circus out of the boy no matter what environment you place him in or who you surround him with. He will not allow it. He will not play along.

In what universe is that going to endear him to the very people who would most likely view his choice to prioritize the very things they look down upon as something he consciously PREFERS over their projected expectations or assumptions?

Its not.

Personally, I think Gotham high society despises Dick Grayson no matter what they pretend to his face, and he’s perfectly aware of it. And probably gets some kind of trollish glee out of it because fuck them too, anyway.

(And all of that is WITHOUT even taking into account the fact that a good number of the people at these society galas all along were looking at Dick as their future property, given that they were Owl members who knew all along what they intended for their Gray Son. These people simply do not view and treat Dick as an equal. Its impossible. There’s no way).

Or then back to the idea of Bruce and Dick’s fights in his later teenage years being a two way street....

The core problem at the root of all this is the very idea of a two way street implies a certain give and take. A clashing of equals.

And that’s just not the reality in ANY continuity.

Because the question is, in any given fight between Dick and Bruce in ANY canon....

When does Dick ever WIN these fights?

When does Dick get the outcome he wants OVER what Bruce wants? When does Bruce ever cave? When is it NOT Dick leaving the manor without getting what he came for, or even being kicked out? When has Dick ever been able to say no, I’m NOT fired, or no, I’m NOT giving you control over what happens with Robin. Even when he DOES confront Bruce on these matters, Bruce STILL infamously never caves. He never actually apologizes or admits wrongdoing, he still usually tells Dick to leave. Like I said, basically the only time Dick’s ever got the upper hand in an argument was over the college thing and that time it wasn’t even a fight! Bruce didn’t actually care that much! That was the good timeline! LOL.

But there’s never actually a reversal. There’s no real precedent for Bruce caving to a teenage Dick Grayson and saying hey you know what, you’re right here, I’m overstepping or I’m in the wrong or I’m the one who doesn’t know what he’s talking about because our divergent life experiences here have mine as less relevant to the issue in question than yours do?

It doesn’t happen.

And here’s the problem with that:

Dick’s a literal genius. Every member of the Batfam is. Its how they’re able to do what they do. They’re ALL smart as fuck, capable as fuck. Put any of them in any other situation where they’re the only Bat present, and everyone usually defaults to them. They know what to do, they know what call to make, their approach is borne out by the narrative as being the correct approach. Their intelligence and strategy is validated by the narrative, with Dick being no exception here. In fact he’s particularly NOTED within canon narratives for being the guy everyone in the DC universe trusts to lead them.

Now.....imagine being this guy, who while although still a teenager, is in his late teens, and has YEARS of leading his own team under his belt. Years of being responsible for the lives of teammates and civilians. Years of becoming aware of and comfortable with his own natural brilliance. Years of becoming confident in being capable of making the right call when the situation demands it. Years of learning to TRUST in his ability to make the right call, to know the right approach, because not only are people relying on him to make those calls, he needs to be able to trust he can make them in order to have the confidence to follow through and DO so instead of being frozen with indecision or trying to pass the decision off to someone else, which he NEVER does?

With all that....and even with all due respect to Bruce’s own genius and experience....

What are the chances that in all the times that Bruce and Dick clash in his late teenage years....

Dick is NEVER right?

And yet.....when in any of these conflicts.....is he ever validated in that, versus shut down by Bruce who insists his way is still right?

Imagine being an acknowledged genius with years of experience and responsibility under your belt, but NEVER getting to be right in any arguments with your father, even when just based off pure freaking statistics, its frankly impossible for you to be 100% wrong EVERY SINGLE TIME?

Do you see where the two way street thing starts to fall apart? How can it truly be a two way street if part of the reason the two of them so often end UP aggressively opposed to each other during this time period.....is because of how many times previous encounters have only ended ONE way no matter WHAT?

It makes sense for Dick and Bruce not to clash as much during their younger years, because even the most stubborn kids do understand on a fundamental level that they have things to learn from more experienced adults. And Dick has never been someone mindlessly predisposed towards conflict. He didn’t become an exceptional acrobat by the age of eight by butting heads with his parents every time they tried to teach him, he couldn’t have. He KNOWS how to listen, he KNOWS how to acknowledge when someone else is right.

But as he grows older, when he has more and more experience under his belt, more and more confidence in his own insights in large parts thanks to Bruce’s own efforts in buttressing his confidence in his younger years.....what happens when the balance of who is right and who is wrong in their arguments NEVER EVER starts to shift in his direction even a little bit, no matter HOW much more experienced he seems to get....and what happens when communicating this problem, this imbalance, to the person that really matters here, Bruce himself....still inherently requires Bruce accepting blame and acknowledging even just in THIS case, the idea that he’s not always right at this point and Dick has insights that can challenge his?

Of course there’s going to be more and more conflict....but can you truly argue that its a two way street, even just based off THIS? Is the teenage son truly to blame for being frustrated that he’s not allowed to ever be right, because the thing getting in his way is his father never ever being willing to back down or cave or not have the last word?

This is the sort of inherent contradiction I think lies at the heart of a lot of conflicting viewpoints here. It doesn’t matter how much lip service is being paid to the idea that Dick is intelligent, that Dick is respected, if all your content continually bears out the idea that actually no he’s not, because Bruce is always right, Dick never is in the right in arguments or conflicts.

The latter evidence just is not aligning with the former claims, and thus readers are innately forced to make a choice as to which to believe.....and more likely than not, they’re going to err on the side of substantiating whichever stance actually has more narrative support behind it, in any particular story.

See what I’m saying?

You need to make sure your story is ACTUALLY saying what you think you’re saying or you intended to say....or you end up undermining your own intentions.

Anyway. Just throwing that out there.

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