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shirohige-pirates · 2 months

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Hey Doll

CisFem Reader x Thatch

CW: toxic parents, manipulation, The Plan™, smut, mdni, I'll add as we go I'm kind of fly by the seat of my pants on this one.

tag list: @mfreedomstuff @harahettania @clumsyraccoon

Chapter 8: Choices

You sat in the front of what could only lovingly be called a truck. More utility than horsepower or show, the back had a tarp covered bed with wooden shelves that could be used as seats in a pinch. The only proper seats in this vehicle were the ones you and Haruta were sitting on, and he was driving.

None of the Edwards thought it was okay to have you ride in the back, and there hadn’t been much of a discussion as you’d been shuttled into the passenger seat. Most of your conversation with Haruta was how to get to your house, but during the long drive he did talk about himself a little bit. He was mostly a personal assistant, and he’d petitioned successfully to be removed from the match program almost five years ago.

His reasoning had been simple: all his time was dedicated to being a personal assistant to Pops and the family as a whole. He loved the work, loved his family, and was pretty much available to them 24/7. He wasn’t going to reduce that availability if the government made him marry, and once Pops retired he was just going to end up supporting whichever brother ended up in that position. It wouldn’t be fair to force someone to marry him when he was already hitched to a job he loved.

When you arrived at the block your parents’ house was on, you weren’t surprised to see local marines already in the area. The cruisers were against the curbs, and none of them had lights on or were blocking anything, but there were at least four of them that you could see.

“Pops said there was going to be an audience.” Haruta says, banging on the dividing wall between the cab and the truck bed. “They don’t look particularly hostile though.”

“My parents… don’t have the best relationship with the local marines.” You admit flatly. “But they can’t just ignore them.”

Haruta parks, blocking the driveway, but none of the marines approach the truck. You step out from it, staying near the cab as the truck shifts while the guys get out from the back of it. Two marines come up to you as you’re waiting, and you give them a small wave.

Tashigi and Koby were younger members of the local precinct, but between Captain Smoker and Section Chief Garp, the two were trained well. Tashigi looks irritated, but Koby has a kind smile on his face, despite the concern between his brows.

“Evening.” You greet, offering a small nod. “I’m here to collect my things.”

Tashigi clicks her tongue, looking toward the house. “I should haul them down to the station. We knew you hadn’t been forced to stay with the Edward family, but when they said that they were coming to trash the house, we couldn’t not show up.” Her eyes shift up as Newgate and the rest of his impressive family lined up behind you. “Well, that explains why Captain Smoker went inside.”

“Are you going to stay out here with us?” Koby asks, and you shake your head.

“Mr. Edward is going to stay with me while the others pack my things.” You explain, and Koby looks relieved that Smoker won’t be your only defense inside.

“Are you ready?” Newgate questions, warm hand on your shoulder for a moment, and you nod, walking toward the front door, with the others close behind.

The door opens before you reach it, and the stern face of Captain Smoker greets you. He has an unlit cigar in his mouth, and you can see irritation already throbbing in a vein on his forehead. He looks from you to Edward Newgate, to the three behind him, and the truck at the end of the drive way in the span of a couple of seconds. His eyes settle back on you before he takes a step back and makes room for everyone to enter.

“I’m just here to keep the peace.” He says as you pass by. “Unless more than words are thrown I won’t interject.”

“Thank you.” You reply and hear Newgate grunt behind you.

When you see your parents in the kitchen you turn away from them and point down the hallway. “It’s the second door on the left.” You explain as the three walk by and head down the hall.

“Ah, heh, it’s reassuring that you’ve decided to… stay with the Edwards.” Your father says, taking a couple of steps toward you. “We were worried for you, Doll. We had to leave so suddenly.”

“I wonder why that was?” Newgate grumbles and you realize both of your parents look nervous. “Perhaps you’d like to enlighten your daughter about why you were escorted off my property?”

In your room the three brothers exchanged quick glances before getting to work. “No offense to your girl, Thatch,” Marco says, pulling open your closet and stuffing hung clothes into a duffel bag. “But this is the cutest creepy room I’ve ever seen, yoi.”

“It is… kind of empty?” Thatch admits, opening a few boxes that had been apparently packed and set on your bed. They appeared to be just clothes, and so he dumped the boxes into the duffel. “Like there’s stuff, but it doesn’t feel like anyone owns it.”

“It’s like walking into a catalog.” Izou scoffs, opening up the door to the attached bath and nearly hissing. “What the hell?” He grumbles.

“What’s up?”

“It’s a wonder the poor girl hasn’t melted into a puddle of goo!” Izou growls. “I’ve never seen so much crap in a single bathroom. Half these cleansers are cheap junk,” he says, tossing one bottle off a shelf and into a small wastebasket. “And the other half hardly does anything at all! The way she was nervous at breakfast, it’s no wonder, if her parents convinced her this shit does anything.”

“Tell us how you really feel.” Marco murmurs and Thatch grunts as the two continue to stuff what little they can find into more duffel bags. By the time they’re done Thatch should have three for each arm, and that should help make the kind of impression his dad wanted him to make.

“Thatch.” Izou’s word is clipped and Thatch turns toward him. Izou’s face would be neutral to most people, but he can see the rage in his brother’s eyes. “Scare the piss out of these cunts.” He insists.

Thatch looks away. He wasn’t sure how he was going to do that, but he meant to try his best. Sure this room was uncomfortable, and yeah he was sure your folks had done shitty things to you, but he wasn’t sure what. His anger was so formless it was hard to really hold onto. The best he could hope for at this point was some kind of resting bitch face, but that wasn’t really his thing either.

Unlike Izou, he didn’t fake emotions well.

“… Put all that crap in a duffel then,” Thatch says. “The more I have to carry, the better, we’ll toss it later.”

“Thatch.” Izou repeats, his voice is so angry it’s cold, and he’s holding a small book up for him to read.

“Izou, is that her dia-.” He starts and then stops. “That’s -.”

Thatch’s eyes are boring a hole into the journal, but Izou’s watching his brother’s anger finally come to the surface. He’s mad he found the damnable book, but he’s also glad he was able to provide Thatch some much needed motivation.

Someone else might feel bad for her parents, but Izou was angry the only thing Thatch was going hurl were words.

“If you think it’s for the best then, we won’t argue, Doll.” Your mother says, giving a sigh that’s not quite dramatic, but barely genuine. “I just hope we’ll be able to set this entire, terrible, misunderstanding behind us, in time for your wedding.”

You want to tell her no, that you don’t want her there. That you want nothing to do with either of them. You want to shout that the last 24 hours at the Edward estate was the most relaxing day you’ve had in a decade.

But you can’t.

Your mouth won’t form words of defiance against your parents, no matter how much you want to. It was hard enough to stand beside someone else while the four of you talked. You could feel yourself almost automatically wanting to stand beside them. Between them. In a place where you didn’t have to think or consider your words. Your parents would prompt you.

They were prompting you now. You should reply with confidence, but your voice was small.

“That would be-.”

“Impossible.” Edward Newgate cuts in. “Unless you’re going to be honest with your daughter I cannot allow it.”

“How cruel!” Your mother gasps, tears welling in her eyes. “All the years we’ve raised and protected her, to deny us to be at our only child’s wedding!”

“That conversation was between the three of us, and the resolution was clear!” Your father tries to bellow, but after hearing Newgate do so the night before, it doesn’t quite live up to the term.

You wonder why you ever thought it was so loud before? How it could sound so small now?

“Hey.”

You turn toward the sound, looking over toward the source along with your parents. You almost don’t recognize who it is, the tone of Thatch’s voice is so unnatural. Newgate steps you back, blocking your view, so you don’t know what expression is on Thatch’s face, but when you look back over at your parents you can see the blood draining from their faces.

“You don’t deserve to speak to her.” He says, the tone in his voice so low and dangerous you’re glad you can’t see the look on his face right now. “Unless it’s to get on your worthless knees and beg her FORGIVENESS!” He’s bellowing by the end, voice and volume on par with his father’s.

You see your mother’s mouth open and close a couple times, but she can’t seem to peel her gaze away from Thatch, and until she can do that she’s not going to find the bravery to speak. Your father looks like he’s trying to speak as well, but your mother grabs his hand and he stops trying. The tense silence that follows is broken only by Newgate.

“Come on, Miss Kakusho,” he says gently, guiding you toward the front door. “Let’s get you home.”

You nod, allowing yourself to be guided. Thatch’s words were ringing in your ears, and you were struggling to process them. That your parents would apologize - that they should need to - that they were worthless. No one had ever said anything like that to them, not that you’d ever heard.

For years you wondered, how wretched must you be, being worth less than your parents? You knew how little value most people saw in them, and by association how much less they must see in you. Knowing that you still clung to every scrap of praise, desperate for some validation, some statement of your own humanity.

Something filled with more love than ‘Doll’.

Panic wells up inside you for a moment. Worry claws at you, that you had somehow ruined The Plan, that the one thing you were meant to be good at was now lost and shattered at your feet. But before you could even focus on it you were jared out of your thoughts by Koby’s voice.

“Oh good, no one came out in cuffs.” He says to no one in particular, relief heavy in his voice.

“Shame.” Tashigi says under her breath. Her eyes aren’t on you and the Edwards, but focused on your house. You’re not surprised. Tashigi was with Smoker on a few of the occasions they were called by concerned neighbors.

Smoker had left her with you while he spoke with your parents in hopes that you’d give Tashigi enough cause to be able to do something about them. You never did, and Tashigi never blamed you. Over the years, however, she’d became openly disdainful of your parents.

It didn’t matter.

Newgate helped you into the cab as Marco and Izou helped unload Thatch’s six-bag haul into the back of the truck. Once the four in the back are settled there’s a smack at the dividing wall, and Haruta puts the truck in gear, pulling away from your house.

You kept expecting something to happen.

For your parents to come running out of the house, making a fuss, or for the marines to stop you for some reason. The tense knot in your stomach wasn’t showing outwardly, but you kept your gaze in your lap until the entire scene was out of view.

It didn’t matter.

The words kicked around in your head again, and you let out a long slow breath, trying to release the tension inside you. You were a block away and nothing was different. There wasn’t a commotion, no sirens, no concern from Haruta.

It didn’t matter.

There was nothing but the sound of the engine, and the soft shuffle of Haruta’s clothes as he operated the truck. The clunk of the gear shift. The smell of oil and paint and grease and work, that was deep in the cracks of a truck probably older than you.

It didn’t matter.

The only people with you now, were your fiance and his family. The only decisions you had to worry about were to be expected. Some of them weren’t going to be just for you to decide, because a marriage wasn’t for just a single person, but they would be normal decisions. Decisions everyone else made.

It didn’t matter if The Plan was ruined. It didn’t even matter if it was your fault, though you still hoped it wasn’t. The only thing you had to think about, the only thing you had to worry about - no, that wasn’t the right way to think about it.

The only thing that mattered was that, going forward, you’d have a choice. It might take a while for a choice to be entirely yours, it was going to take a while for you to learn who you even were, but the truth of it hit you like a wave and you put your hands up to your face.

You cried quiet and soft tears, persistent beads of realization fell over your cheeks. Emotions too complicated for you to quite sort out slipped between your fingers and pattered softly onto your lap. Haruta didn’t say anything, just handed over a small packet of tissues.

You took them with a quiet word of thanks, dabbing away tears that kept coming despite your attempts to stall them. You didn’t know how to explain why you were crying, and you were grateful that he wasn’t asking you anything.

It seemed so silly, to be relieved by such a small thing, or maybe you were afraid of it. Right then, you weren’t really sure.

All you could think was that tomorrow would be the first day you’d get to pick out your own clothes.

#x reader #reader insert #thatch one piece #modern au #Hey Doll #mdni

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riwooga · 1 year

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Okay Whitney character dive, I'm just gonna use he/him pronouns for all of this except for PC ✨

I don't know how much of this makes sense but I'm going to ramble and I can already tell this is gonna get quite long

And once again small disclaimer I'm just rambling my personal speculation and thoughts and have no ways of knowing what the creators actually planned/intend for a character!

... Okay I have to add a cut I think it'll clutter the tag too much 👉👈

I actually kind of want to start out with making a comparison of Whitney vs Avery. Because I adore both, yet have actually seen some people interpret them in almost a switcharoo to what I do? Which is super interesting to me, but their character archetypes are definitely similar in several senses, and I find it fun to think about so-

From my point of view, what they have in common, in my opinion, is the "Control and status" mindset.

So when we first meet Whitney, he's obviously not introduced as a good guy, he's a bully, an utter asshole, and for a long time he is just that, he doesn't treat PC nicely until you get pretty high up in love, and still there he's still sometimes an absolute ass. (Just.. A more controlled one that will sometimes semi-respect your boundaries if you enforce them)

Whereas Avery, we meet as this charming, slightly mysterious yet chivalrous older man, helps us out, takes us out for a nice meal and in turn afterwards keeps being quite charmingly chivalrous as long-- as you act the proper way.

But the kind of funny thing it me is, with both of them, once you're in a relationship with you start to see the facade slip sometimes.

With Whitney, you start to see softer moments, it's small things that could be missed or brushed over perhaps, but you start to see moments where he shows he actually cares about the PC, and can actually be sort of sweet if you're in private with him.

Where as with Avery, you see the facade slip too-- but in the opposite way in my opinion? You start to see a colder side of him, start to see that what he cares about is appearance, and see that if you don't act the way he wanted you to, the anger comes through. (I'll definitely go more in depth of Avery if I make a post for him too)

Which again, feels like opposites, yet so similar?

And to touch back on their "control" mindset, there the thing is Whitney seems to be almost desperate for control, and will fight to have it, desperate for something he can actually have his own control over, likely stemming from a home life where he feels stuck and like he has no say in anything (Will touch more on this in just a second)

Where as Avery... Isn't desperate for control, rather he seems to simply expect it. He expects that PC will fall into line and be good, let him make the decisions that make them both look best. Especially at first of you chose the options that provoke him a bit, you can sense he almost starts to consider PC something to be tamed at that point.

Where both of them, highly value their status and other people looking upon them the way they've worked hard to obtain.

And to further explain what I meant with Whitney's home life, let's just say I think there's a reason that Whitney seems to be away from his home for as long as he can, why he prefers to loiter in alleyways and get drunk and cause trouble..

If we, once again, look at psychology, delinquent behaviors USUALLY stem from not feeling seen or heard by your parents, stem from an anger and frustration of either too strict rules or otherwise things like neglect. Same with bullying, usually also stemming from issues in the home life leaving the bully feeling weak and worthless, where bringing others down gives them a high of somewhat power. Especially to people they have a sense of envy toward.

We can also somewhat guess out from certain dialogue that Whitney's family probably isn't the wealthiest, as he describes his own room as a dump and also admits to Bailey that he indeed doesn't have near enough money to afford the PC. Plus if his parents were rich I don't think it'd make as much sense for him to be stealing, other than I guess pure provocation?

So those things combined I feel like I can definitely start to guess why Whitney might feel that lack of control in his life. I'm like... 90% sure I have seen Vrel say that the only thing feels like he has control over is his appearance? (And then the PC)

And while Whitney's relationship with the PC may start as a control thing for him, a simple way to get that itch satisfied and have some humiliation fun as well, well... He does genuinely start to care for the PC. Not that you'd get him to fully admit just how much he does.

Some of my favorite moments is when his brain almost short-wires when the PC not just reciprocates but initiates, especially outside the sexual context. Instantly blushing and trying to play it smooth but often ending up stuttering a bit. Or if you're gone too long and you can see faint tears in his eyes? Yeah good shit.

But also I absolutely have to mention how he is also so oddly soft in encounters, like often saying PC is like an angel, kissing PC'S forehead, praising... Like even in the "embarrassing" scenarios he often has this softness to him.

And to just softly go back to the whole bully psychology thing, a really interesting part of Whitney's character in my opinion is his target on Kylar, especially once he's with the PC.

Whitney in general is quite jealous / possessive, the only way he's sharing the PC is on his own volition, when he's the one controlling the scenario and who touches who. We can see he gets confrontational even in class of people just looking at the PC, or how he gets so frustrated if one of his friends try to help themselves to the PC.

So, to see the PC give someone like Kylar attention? Of course his brain will spiral.

Whitney has probably done so much to build up his position, to be popular, attractive, feared, to be in control, so to see /Kylar/, the freak, the weird little creep everyone actively avoids, who's such an easy target for bullying because of it-- /that's/ someone PC is interested in? Infuriating. A confidence hit probably. From his point of view he has so much more to offer than that pathetic little freak, doesn't he?

And that's where one of Whitney's big flaws come in, because when he feels upset, or even betrayed by the PC, he acts out. He starts to threaten, he starts to humiliate, he forces the PC into dangerous situations. A way to try and snatch that control back.

If pushed far enough, (spoiler warning here!!) we know he's even willing to sell the PC off to the underground brothel because of that loss of respect from everyone else. Because of that loss of control that he so desperately clutches onto.

But I'm gonna try and round it off a bit here--

Whitney seems to have a rather poor handle on emotions, on vulnerability. It's easier to be someone people fear and be having fun with it than it is letting someone even catch a glimpse at the vulnerable parts inside.

... Which is exactly why the moments that he has alone with the PC is something I absolutely melt over, those cracks beginning to show the softness.

So to sum up!

I find Whitney a really interesting character, as much as I roll my eyes at him and think he's a stupid ass, I really hope we in the future keep seeing him develop more and more 🤧

#dol whitney #dol #degrees of lewdity #whitney the bully #I just love complex characters man #Love wondering why characters are the way they are #I might do a post on Avery too eventually but I just wanted to being him up too due to their similarities #I have so many thoughts on so many DOL characters ahhh #Though I feel like these more so just turn into why I love characters.... But alas #I am however really looking forward to when we get Whitney pregnancy content because how a character handles that stuff says a lot #I have my thoughts and predictions but I trust in waiting patiently 🤧#woogarambles

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public-trans-it · 29 days

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Proper noun: Ceetee Pronouns: It/Its* Common nouns: Girlthing, Tranny, Doll Adjectives: Trans, Mixed-Race, Aegosexual, Polyamorous, Plural Verbs: Game Design, Shitposting, Flirting

🖋 Last edited: 5/20/24

Unreasonably proud of that stupid grammar joke. Anyway yes, I'm Ceetee. While I am plural, I try to avoid the use of first person plural pronouns, except when we are specifically talking about our experiences with DID/Plurality. We also do our best to conceal who is fronting at all times (you can read more about that in the links about gender and plurality at the bottom of this post).

I'm a dork with very VERY strong opinions that I am VERY VERY vocal about. If you do not share those opinions, that is perfectly fine and probably to be expected. Just know that I am very obnoxious about them, so you will see them a lot. I have a lot of confidence on my stances and it is very unearned! That said I'm always happy to actually discuss this stuff, and also perfectly understanding of people unfollowing over it! Never feel like you HAVE to follow me for whatever obligation. Curate your feed, damn it!

For the pronoun exceptions mentioned above, It/Its are my pronouns for most people. If you aren't willing to call me that, well, I can't stop you. Use whatever you want, but I will absolutely be judging you for it. Though there are some exceptions. For people I'm intimate with (Romantic partners and people I'm in a QPR with), my pronouns are It/She. If you work for my HRT clinic my pronouns are She/Her because like fuck am I risking my HRT just because my doctor doesn't understand my gender. If you are a coworker my pronouns are He/Him and also I don't have a tumblr, please block me immediately, for both of our sakes.

I have a NSFW sideblog. You can probably guess its name pretty easily. If you can't, I'm happy to give it to anyone brave enough to DM me or send me an ask off anon. In fact, you can ask me basically anything about my life and I'll happily answer. I'm a pretty open book like that.

Rambles

I tend to ramble about various things. Usually when I do, I tag it as #text essay. Sometimes about gender and my views on it, but also just... stuff in general. Here is a list of some of the general stuff. Its usually just stupid pointless stuff, but its a good look into how my brain works.

The Darkspore Rant (Long)

Pokemon Picross Monetization Model

Movement in VR

Time is Fake as Hell

Fighters Should Have Magic

Where I Stand in Regards to AI Art

Identity stuff:

Bespoke Genders (Part 1)

On Detransition (Part 2)

Plurality (Part 2.5)

Plurality and Being Transgender (Part 3)

Fandom shit:

Pokemon Eggs, and the Fundamental Nature of the Pokemon Multiverse (Long)

List of FFXIV OCs (LONG. Its also a recap of 4 years of weekly FC RP)

Posts others have made but are very relevant to me and who I am:

Back When I Was A Boy (Not every trans femme used to be a boy, but I did and that is important to me)

The Scorpion and The Frog (I desperately need to get a tattoo of a scorpion and a frog. I can't read this without crying)

Tags

#text essay - As mentioned above, I use this for when my rambles go very very very long. The ones I like the most or feel are important enough I also add to this pinned.

#Zenos ♥ - For the FFXIV Character that I am super normal about (lying).

#dnd hate train - A tag that exists for blacklisting purposes at the request of a close friend. As a designer, I fucking HATE Dungeons and Dragons. I hate it a lot. And I talk a lot about how much I hate it.

#laugh rule - For that age old tumblr rule: "If it makes you actually genuinely Laugh Out Loud, you have to reblog it."

#peer reviewed tags - another, more modern tumblr rule. If I screenshot someones tags to share them, I add this tag to it.

#dudes rock - Essentially, just a bunch of guys doing stuff that is just 'boys being boys' in the fun sense and not the rapey sense, but also just a reminder that the world is better with these dudes in it, and a way for me to find happiness is the masculinity that made my childhood miserable.

#partner gushing - For when I am being GAY AS HELL about my partners, or reblogging something and going 'its because of one of them'

#talking to myself and #talking about myself - Conversations between me and my alters, and talking about my relationships with my alters, respectively. More details here.

I also just... ramble in the tags. A lot. I just add so much commentary in the tags. You will see A LOT of rambles.

#pinned post

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shingekinosimpson · 7 days

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You Had Me At B Minor: Chapter 13

First | Previous

Pairing: Jean Kirschtein x Marco Bodt

Other relationships: Reibert, Springles, Historia x Ymir, Levi x Hange, a smidge of Jearmin

Rating: Mature

Summary: Jean's band needs a new bass player. Cue freckled Jesus.

Warnings/tags: Long fic, slow burn, Jean POV, friends to lovers, British AU with cannon locations, northern Jean, Unsigned band AU, nonbinary Armin, I promise there will be smut eventually! drinking, mentions of death, descriptions of domestic violence, panic attacks, see start of each chapter for more specific trigger warnings

******************************************************************

Trigger warnings: n/a

Who am I, darling to you? Who am I? Going to tell you stories of mine Who am I?

Oh, who am I, darling for you? Who am I? Could be a burden in time, lonely Who am I, to you?

And who am I, darling for you? Who am I? Will be a burden Who am I, darling to you? Who am I?

“I got the job!”

“Wh-what??”

“I got the job!!”

“Yes!! Shit that’s amazing, I knew you would!”

“I didn’t! I thought my lesson went a bit wrong but they said I had lots of good things in there and they really liked how I was with the kids and…fuck. I can’t believe I actually got it!”

God I could listen to his voice all day.

I may not have seen Marco as much as I would like this week – nowhere near as much – but I’ve heard that voice plenty. So much so that I swear I can hear the difference between a small smile and a big smile. And let me tell you, that is a wide-ass fucking grin Marco is sporting right now.

Probably matches the one I’m wearing. I’m so fucking pleased for him. The number of times this poor guy’s rang me this week in a total stress and in need of a distraction has almost reached double figures. Not that I mind in the slightest. Although it was pretty eye-opening finding out how much pressure Marco puts on himself, how desperately he wants a steady job so he can give more support to his mam and sister. Even though I’m sure they’d be the first to tell him not to worry. It's a big relief knowing he can stop stressing so much now.

“I’m so fucking happy for you. What did your mam say when you told her? Did she scream in Italian like you said?”

“I haven’t told her yet. I literally just got off the phone with the head teacher. She probably will though.”

“…So…am I the first person you’ve told?”

“Erm, yeah,” he chuckles. “I guess.” It’s a good job I’m sitting down, otherwise that information might’ve floored me. A flush of heat rushes over my cheeks and chest and I grip my phone a little tighter, coyly chewing my lip. He just landed a permanent job and the first thing he does is ring me.

“I mean, you did say to ring you as soon as I heard,” Marco adds.

“Damn right I did!”

“Though now you mention it, I probably should give my mum a ring,” he says with a nervous laugh.

“Probably. I’ll speak to you later though yeah?”

“Yeah okay. Later then.”

“Later. And well done again. You’re gonna be amazing I know it.”

“O-okay.” That’s definitely his blushing voice. “Speak soon.”

As soon as he hangs up, I start typing a message.

HeresJeany:

By the way I am 100% taking you out for food tomorrow to celebrate! :P

He still hasn’t taken up my offer from last week, with him being so busy and all. I hope he doesn’t already have plans.

_________________________________

I've just chucked some chips and fish fingers in the oven (I can't be arsed to cook a proper meal) when my phone starts to ring, the picture of me and Marco where I look like a pineapple flashing up on the screen.

“It's like you knew I was making a fish finger sandwich. Well the answer is no, you can't have any.”

“Aw not even a bite?” he asks, snickering at my blunt greeting.

“Nope. All for me.”

He hums through another chuckle before speaking. “Soooo about food tomorrow. Do you want the good news or the bad news?”

“Err, both I guess?” Okay, I know we're going away to Dauper in like, two days, but I'll still be gutted if he's not free for food. I am seriously craving some Marco time, especially after how touchy-feely he was the last time we hung out together. “What's up?"

“So the good news is we can have food tomorrow.”

Phew!

“Bad news is my mum is going all out cooking a family meal and she is absolutely insisting that you join us.”

What?

“Which basically means you don't have a choice.”

“Err...okay?”

The tips of my ears prickle with nervous energy. Family dinners always fill me with a sense of dread, especially since that disastrous one with Hitch a couple of years ago. I know there's no way Marco's family would be like them, and I've already met Mia but still, there's a formality to these things that sets me on edge.

“You sure? You don't actually have to I was only kidding…but my mum is really keen to meet my friends and... I’d really like it if you came.”

Oh fuck. His voice sounded really adorable there.

“N-no that sounds great! Tell her thanks for the invite that's really nice of her. So erm, what time should I come over?”

“Is six okay?”

“Yeah fine. Do you want me to bring anything or...Oh what do I need to wear? Do I need to wear something smart?”

He barks a laugh at that question. “No absolutely not. Wear anything you like. Though maybe don't risk the Moomin Vans or I might steal them.”

“Haha, okay.”

“Okay. I'll let you get back to your fish fingers.” His voice sounds so gorgeous I kind of don't want him to. “Speak to you later.”

“Okay later then. Bye.”

“Bye Jean.”

_________________________________

I pull the handbrake and toot the horn when I get to Marco's. After finding out he was planning to get the bus, I absolutely insisted on picking him up.

Butterflies are already starting to flip in my stomach in anticipation of seeing him. On one hand, I cannot wait to hang out with him again (it’s pretty much all I’ve thought about the last few days), but I won’t lie, the coward in me wants to run for the hills.

Last weekend was just so…I don’t even know how to describe it. I still have to pinch myself whenever I think about it. The way he was with me felt different. All the touching and blushing. There was just so much fucking joy in his eyes and in his laugh and I felt like I was a big part of that…maybe even the cause of that.

There have been moments when I’ve felt certain of that fact, to the point where I daydream telling him how I feel – what I’ll say, where I’ll say it, what he might say back…But then there have been other moments…moments where I’ve imagined Marco pulling away from me, backtracking on his affections and playing it all off as a bit of fun or drunken silliness…

The front door opens and I look over, my stomach landing with a ker-thump…

Wait, what the actual fuck???

I roll the window down as fast as I can while my eyes start bugging out of my head. “Marco what the hell!?”

WHY?? Why is he wearing a blazer with a fucking shirt and tie!?

He turns to me looking perplexed. “What?”

“What d'you mean 'WHAT'? Why are you dressed like that? You said I didn't have to dress up!”

“I’m not dressed up. I’m just dressed for a family meal. I thought it was obvious you needed to dress like this,” he says sounding a bit hurt.

“Of course it's not obvious! Why do you think I asked!? Shit, I need to go home and get changed. I don't even know if-”

Marco doubles over and starts howling with laughter.

“Oh my god,” he chokes with his hands on his knees. “Your face! Could you be anymore freaked out?”

He descends into wheezy chuckles again holding his stomach.

“Oh my god. You bastard.”

“I'm sorry. I just thought it was cute when you asked about wearing something smart and I couldn't resist.”

My grumpiness can't help but lessen at the word ‘cute’. Not to mention how cute he looks giggling away at me.

“I'll go get changed. Two seconds,” he says turning back.

That little shit. As if he actually came out dressed like that just to mess with me. At least I get a nice view of his arse in smart pants and his nipped in waist as I watch him retreat.

“If you don't come down here looking like a hobo, I'm gonna be seriously pissed!”

I’m treated to one more cheeky smile as he closes the door. My smile stretches so wide my cheeks ache. Fuck. I like him so much.

When he returns, he's definitely dressed way down compared to before but that does nothing to stop my butterflies making themselves known again, twirling and somersaulting like they’re caught in a tornado. He's wearing ripped black skinny jeans and a grey Superdry hoody. That's it. That's literally it. But christ does he look fucking sexy. His thighs and his shoulders and oh my god he just turned to lock the door and look at his arse nnggghhhhh!!

“Better?” he asks with a sunshine smile as he practically skips towards the car.

“Much better,” I answer honestly.

He buckles up and we set off with only ten minutes to spare.

“I am absolutely blaming you if we’re late,” I huff.

“We won't be late. Why are you getting so stressed?” Marco asks with an amused look.

“Because I don't want to make a shit impression.”

“You're really that bothered?”

“Of course I am, they're your family.”

There's a weight to those words I wish wasn't there. Marco considers me from the passenger seat, a warm smile on his face. I don’t realise I’m holding my breath until he speaks.

“You've got nothing to worry about Jean. My family likes you plenty.”

“I've only met Mia remember? Your family don't know me.”

“Okay but they know of you. How you helped out with Mia, how you've helped me...” He looks down at his lap with a blush, picking at the threads near his exposed knee. “My mum's been pestering me to bring you over for a while.”

“She has?”

“Well yeah, I talk about you all the time and she wants to meet-” He stops to clear his throat, brow furrowed. “I mean, she knows how you helped me find Mia that time so, yeah...like I said you've got nothing to worry about, so can you please calm your tits?”

My ears flush hearing he's talked about me with his mam, and all good things by the sound of it. I chew my lip around the huge smile trying to burst across my face, not wanting to look like a complete dork.

“Okay. Calm tiddies from now on. I promise.”

I let the smile out anyway and Marco mirrors it.

To my great relief we’re not super late, arriving one minute after six to be precise. I’m sure with some parents that would result in a passive aggressive comment or just an outright scolding when they answer the door. That is absolutely not what happens when Marco’s mam welcomes us.

“Marcorsetto! Come here my baby boy! Mwah, mwah, mwah!”

Marco’s mam can’t be much over five foot but that doesn’t stop her from pulling his face down for some serious smooches.

Not gonna lie - it’s adorable. She reminds me of Connie’s mam and I instantly like her.

Fuck, I hope she likes me.

She cups Marco’s cheeks with a big smile and then turns to me. “Jean! I’m Gianna. It’s so nice to finally meet you!”

I’m a little (a lot) unprepared for the huge hug I find myself in. The air in my lungs leaves me with an oof but I quickly recover with a chuckle.

“You too! Thanks for inviting me.”

“Oooh molto bello!” she says over my shoulder, making Marco turn crimson.

“Mum!!”

“Hahaha! Come in! Come in! Help yourselves to slippers if you like!” she says disappearing down the passage towards the kitchen.

“Marcorsetto?” I ask, toeing off my shoes.

“Orsetto means ‘little bear’ in Italian.”

“Okay that might be the cutest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Marco slides on some fluffy bunny slippers but I opt for the far more sensible tartan pair. I follow him down the hall towards the kitchen, where a number of voices are chatting animatedly.

“How in the hell? That one’s rigged. It must be!” says a gruff voice.

“It’s not! Here you bloody well use it!”

Opening the door, two things come into focus. The first thing is all the noise – laughter mostly, accompanied by something sizzling loudly on the hob and a classic disco tune dancing out of the radio in the corner. The second thing is the incredible smell. A mix of garlic and onion and herbs and other delicious things I can’t quite put my finger on.

I feel my stomach grumble, like it knows it’s in for a good time.

“Hello bonny lad!” says a stocky man with slightly greying, light brown hair.

He rises from his seat to give Marco a quick hug. The lady next to him – a dead-ringer for Marco’s mam – also stands, her eyes soft when she pulls Marco towards her.

“Hello Marco sweetheart!”

“Hi! You both okay?”

They nod and hum, both throwing a smile and a sideways glance in my direction.

“This is my friend Jean,” Marco beams making my stomach flip. “Jean, this is my Uncle Dave and Aunty Maxine.”

“Good to meet you son!” Uncle Dave smiles giving my hand a warm shake.

“Call me Max,” his Aunty replies, slipping a delicate hand in mine for a moment.

I greet them both in turn and take a seat next to Mia, offering her a quick ‘hi’. She quietly returns it, giving me what I think is a genuine smile before looking up at her Uncle Dave.

“C’mon then! You’ve got the rigged one so you shouldn’t have a problem now.”

Dave gives a hearty laugh, holding a small red counter between thumb and forefinger.

“Oh jeez,” Marco moans. “Tiddlywinks again Dave? You know she can’t be beaten.”

That explains the random assortment of things on the table – a red cup, counters of different colours and sizes and a few small, plastic animals - the kind you’d get in a Christmas cracker.

“Right then, this is the one I can feel it,” Dave smirks.

He presses the edge of his counter to another and it pings across the table, missing the red cup by quite a margin.

“Bollocks,” Dave grumbles, causing everyone to laugh. “Haway boys see if you can beat her. An entire pound coin is riding on this game!”

Marco grabs a small plastic spider with a weird tab sticking out of its arse. He presses his finger to the tab and the spider jumps forward, grazing the edge of the red cup before landing on the table.

“Oh, so close! C’mon Jean, see if you can get one in,” Maxine says excitedly.

I consider the options before me.

“I’ll try my luck with Mr Froggy I guess.”

I grab the green plastic frog and place it in front of me, deciding the best angle. I notice Marco and Mia sharing a smile but think nothing of it…

“JESUS!”

…Until the plastic frog flies a fucking mile and they both burst out laughing.

“Oh god I’m so sorry!”

The fucking frog has flown over to the kitchen bench and plopped right into the fucking salad bowl. I jump up and rush over to pick it out, muttering a million apologies to Gianna.

She laughs warmly, grabbing it before I get the chance. “It’s fine Jean darling don’t panic. You two!” she snaps, throwing the frog in Marco and Mia’s general direction. “You could have warned the poor boy!”

Marco gets his giggles under control and pats me on the shoulder when I sit down. “Sorry. The frog is notoriously hard to control. It always goes flying no matter how softly you try to do it.”

“And you just let me choose it without saying anything! Some friend you are,” I say shoving him in the shoulder.

“Wicked boy,” Gianna smiles, swatting Marco with a tea towel.

“He’s a menace!” I laugh. “Have you heard what he did to me when I picked him up?”

I tell the tale of Marco winding me up with his bloody suit, much to the amusement of everyone else.

“Oh Marco you are awful!” Gianna says with a laugh. “Right clear the table then. This will be ready soon. Marco darling, can you grab the bread from the oven? Mia, help me with the plates, would you sweetie?”

“Anything I can do to help?” I ask.

“No Jean darling you’re our guest! You just relax,” Gianna insists.

“Can I tempt you with some wine Jean?” Maxine asks, pouring herself a glass of red.

“Oh, yes please. Just a small one though. I’m driving.”

Plates and bowls start appearing on the table – bread fresh from the oven and oil for dipping, tomatoes and mozzarella, and something else I’m not quite sure of.

“Wow. This looks amazing. Is that hummus?”

“It’s mashed cannellini beans with garlic and a bit of lemon,” Gianna smiles. “Here, try it on some bread, it’s delicious!”

Literally everything is delicious. Marco was right about his mam being an amazing cook. And I can’t believe all this is just the starter. Everyone quietens during the first part of the meal, enjoying the food too much to bother with conversation, but it soon picks back up again when the last few bits disappear from our plates.

Dave and Maxine have plenty of questions for Marco about his new job. He gets so enthusiastic talking about all the ideas he has for his new class. It’s nice listening to him interact with Dave and Maxine – he’s clearly very fond of them and I can tell they have a lot of love for him too. They both come across as genuinely lovely people and it warms my heart to know that, despite his past, Marco has a loving family he can rely on.

“Alright dig in everyone!” Gianna smiles after presenting us with the main course – mushroom risotto.

“Mmm, wow, this is really good,” I mumble around a mouthful of heaven.

It is literally the best mushroom risotto I’ve ever tasted in my life. I’m not even that into mushroom risotto, but I would happily have this one every day of the week.

“Thank you dear! You can come back anytime,” Gianna replies with a wink.

Now I see where Marco gets his cheeky nature from.

“How’s the band going Marco?” Maxine asks after we’ve all been tucking in for a while. “Your mum was telling me you’ve had a couple of gigs.”

“Yeah, good thanks,” he says scratching his neck. “I’ve managed to remember most of the songs so far, so that’s good.”

Like hell am I gonna sit here and let him be so modest.

“He’s doing more than good. Your nephew is one seriously talented man,” I say, more to Marco than Maxine.

“A seriously talented man you say!” Maxine beams.

“He’s overexaggerating,” Marco smiles, nudging my shoulder and blushing prettily.

“I’m definitely not! None of us can believe our luck he joined. We’ve never sounded better.”

Marco’s cheeks flush a deeper shade of red but I just smile. I’m only telling the truth after all.

“Aww how lovely! My clever boy,” Gianna gushes, smooching the top of his head as she gets up to grab another bottle of wine.

“Well that’s good to know…because I have a bit of a proposition for you boys,” Maxine grins. “You know your cousin Sara’s wedding is coming up? In June?”

“Yeah,” Marco replies.

“Well the band they booked for the evening have cancelled. Would you boys be interested? No pressure but I said I’d ask.”

“You guys have done weddings before right?” Marco asks, turning to me.

“Yeah, we have. They’ve always been a good laugh.”

“I’ve no idea what songs they’d like but if you send her a message on Facebook, I’m sure she’ll be happy to give you the details,” Maxine continues.

“Okay I’ll get in touch with her. What do you reckon Jean? Will Connie and Eren be interested?”

“I’m sure they would be up for it. Hey, maybe by June I’ll have finally convinced you to start singing,” I grin.

“Doubtful,” he smiles, rolling his eyes at me.

“Thank you!” Mia suddenly pipes up, gesturing at me. “See Marco, how many times have I said you should be singing?”

“He’s got a good voice, hasn’t he?” I say to Mia. Good to know I’m not the only one who’s told him so.

“Yeah! He always used to beat me on Singstar. He’s well good.”

“Oh, what was that song you used to sing so beautifully together?” Gianna ponders. “The ‘hold on for one more day’ song.”

“Ah, Wilson Phillips,” Mia answers.

“Yes! Oh I used to love it when you sang that together.”

“Well, maybe Sara will want it at the wedding if Marco’s that good!” Dave laughs.

“Listen if you heard this guy sing,” Marco says gesturing to me, “you wouldn’t be praising my singing abilities.”

I’m almost derailed by his compliment but I power through. “There’s always room for more singers in the band Marco, and we’d be daft not to make use of your voice from time to time.”

He hums, wilting under my and Mia’s staring. “I’ll think about it.”

“You bloody better,” Mia mumbles, smirking at Marco.

Gianna gets up starts clearing the table, asking Maxine a million questions about the wedding as she places our dishes in the sink. Marco makes a start on washing them and Mia soon gets up to help him dry. They speak in hushed voices as they work side by side so I can’t hear what they’re saying, but at one point Marco grabs the tea towel out of Mia’s hand and slaps her playfully on the head with it.

Then dessert starts appearing on the table – chocolate ganache with shortbread, strawberries and orange segments to share. I wasn’t sure I’d want any dessert after the filling risotto but oh man does it look good. Gianna recommends smoothing some ganache onto the shortbread and topping it with an orange segment so I go for that first.

Marco smiles when I hum contentedly. “It’s good right?”

“Sooo good.”

“I hear you’re heading off on holiday tomorrow boys,” Dave comments with a grin.

“Yeah. Our friend’s grandma is lending us her holiday cottage for the weekend,” Marco replies with a smile in my direction, making my ears prickle.

“Oh nice. Good friend to have. Just the two of you is it?” Dave beams.

“N-no,” Marco splutters turning red, which makes me turn red. Even more so when Mia tries to cover up her snort with a cough. “There’s about ten of us going.”

Marco takes a sip of water, so he doesn’t notice Maxine’s death glare or Dave bewilderedly mouthing ‘what!?’ It’s kind of funny actually, like seeing what Connie and Sasha will be like in 30 years.

“Whereabouts is the cottage you’re all staying in?” Maxine asks, trying to ease some of the tension.

“Dauper,” Marco replies.

“Ooooh lovely! Gorgeous part of the world Dauper. We’ve been a couple of times. Have you ever been Jean?”

“No. Looking forward to it though. The dark skies are meant to be great there.”

“Oh yes, the night sky is beautiful in that area! Oh Dave, what was the name of that pub? The one where you had that gorgeous trout…”

Dave and Maxine give us all their best tips for where to go and what to do. Hearing them talk about it so merrily gets me even more excited for the trip.

After practically licking my bowl clean, I excuse myself to go to the bathroom. I find Katniss snoozing on the landing.

“Hey baby girl!”

She indulges me in some head scritches, before sleepily rolling over for some tummy love. I slip my phone out of my pocket to snap some cheeky pics, though my desperate need to pee stops it turning into a full photo shoot. I’ve just finished up in the bathroom and cracked open the door when I hear Dave’s voice downstairs in the hall.

“Max! C’mere I can’t find it.”

A few seconds later I hear Maxine. “You never bloody can despite it being right in front of your face! There! Look! In the front pocket like I said…I’ll bloody kill you for embarrassing Marco.”

“Wha-? How’s it embarrassing to ask if you’re going on holiday with your boyfriend?”

“They’re not boyfriends!” Max whispers exasperatedly.

“I thought Gianna said they were?”

“No! They’re just friends!”

“Oh bloody hell. Put my foot right in it there then,” Dave grumbles.

“Gianna said she thought they might become boyfriends. She says Marco talks about him all the time.”

“Oh yeah, that was it…Well you can see why I thought they were already an item. They’d make a lovely couple wouldn’t they?”

“Yeah…a right handsome pair. Oh, I hope they do. Jean seems so lovely.”

I’ve literally frozen to the spot. I dare not move, or even breathe for that matter.

As if I’ve got Marco’s flesh and blood rooting for me! Holy shit!

I couldn’t help but wonder what Gianna thought when Marco let slip he talks to her about me. At worst, I thought she might be wary of me hurting him like so many others before. At best, I hoped she’d be grateful Marco had found a good friend. To hear she thinks there might be something more than friendship though…I’m just…Gyaahhh!!!

Worrying my absence might start to become suspicious, I close the bathroom door loud enough to make my presence known and head down the stairs. Dave and Max quickly hush up at the sound.

“Alright dear?” Maxine smiles.

“Just grabbing my insulin pen! Needed a bit of a top-up after helping myself to too much dessert!” Dave laughs.

I smile widely; I really can’t help it after what I’ve just heard. “Bet it was worth it though. That chocolate ganache was insane.”

“Bloody gorgeou-”

A series of giggles and a surge in volume makes us all turn our heads towards the kitchen. We share an inquisitive smirk, heading to investigate what’s so funny.

The three Bodts are dancing up a storm around the kitchen table. Marco’s toing and froing between his mam and Mia, waltzing and spinning them as they sing along to George Michael and Aretha Franklin.

Maxine and Dave both laugh and smile but my lips only twitch slightly. My smile is soft and tender as a bittersweet tug in my stomach sends warmth throughout my body. I was right when I said Connie, Eren and I were lucky to have found such a talented bassist, but the bigger truth of how lucky I am to have found Marco fills me to the brim as I watch him laugh and smile.

He looks radiant and just…impossibly beautiful.

“Show them how it’s done Maxy!”

Dave takes hold of Maxine and they begin to sway back and forth. After a few beats, they break apart and grab a hold of the nearest person – Mia and Gianna – and start dancing with them.

Emboldened by Dave and Maxine’s earlier conversation, I take a step forward and sweep into Marco’s space, my fingers slipping into his palm as I lead him in a twirl. He chuckles and returns the favour, spinning me away and pulling me back. My hand finds a hold in the dip of his waist on instinct, and I rock him side to side, not caring one little bit for the goofy grin on my face or the glowing looks I get from Marco’s family.

And then he sings and the warm fuzzies in my chest increase tenfold.

“So we were draaaawwwn tooogether through destinyyyyyy…ooh boy. Ooh!

I know this loooove weeee share was meant to beeeee. Oh!

Knew you were waiting! WooOoooh, yeah!”

The rest of his family are singing too but I the only sound I hear is him. I beam and laugh at the way he hits the high notes, doing his best over-the-top popstar impression.

“Oh, when the valley was low. No, it didn't stop meeeee, no!

Knew you were waiting! Knew you were waiting for me!”

I’m giddy when he spins me away and tugs me back into his orbit. He laughs and something flashes in his eyes when they meet mine. He pulls me close enough to meet the warmth of his torso as the song draws to a close. Our embrace only lasts for a moment, but it leaves me lightheaded and breathless. I reach out a hand to steady myself on a chair as we all break apart.

“Always knew I’d married into a family of crackerjacks!” Dave chortles, giving Mia a quick tickle on her side before sitting down. “Reckon me and Jean should run for the hills while we still have a chance!”

“I dunno,” I grin, taking my seat next to Marco. “Reckon the food is worth the craziness.”

“Ooooh you’re definitely allowed back again you little charmer!” Gianna coos, squidging my shoulders (to my absolute delight). “Phew! I need a brew after that. Shall I put a pot of tea on?”

Max helps Gianna sort out the cups and teapot while Mia and Dave start setting out the tiddlywinks again. I look at Marco with a coy smile, still a little dazed from the moment we shared.

“I promise we’re not always this mental,” he smiles quietly. “But now you know, if that song ever comes on the radio, it’s pretty much a given we’ll all drop everything and start dancing.”

“Fine by me. I love a good twirl around the kitchen now and then,” I smirk, resting my head on my hand.

It makes Marco blush for some reason, though maybe he's just flushing from all the dancing.

“Why that song?” I ask.

“Well my mum used to play it a lot when we were younger,” he starts, keeping his voice low, “but once it was the three of us, I noticed...when she played it, she started actually singing along with it. I’d never heard her sing before. So I started joining in and then eventually Mia did too and it kind of escalated from there.”

Once again, I'm in awe of Marco and his family. In awe of how they’ve found the strength to sing and laugh after everything they've endured. In awe of how much love and warmth they extend to everyone around them when they could so easily have closed themselves off. They're amazing.

“You fancy another round boys?” Dave asks, wiggling a tiddlywink in our direction.

We stay another hour or so, sharing a few laughs and silly stories as all the delicious food settles in our stomachs.

After bidding the rest of Marco's family goodbye, his mam follows us to the door to see us out.

“You will come again won’t you Jean?”

“I’m literally booking in for every Sunday! Can’t remember the last time I was so well fed,” I reply.

“Oh you’re more than welcome dear. Thank you so much for coming.”

She pulls me into a squishy hug and then turns to Marco, pulling him down to reach her.

“Love you baby boy. Have the best time this weekend okay? You deserve it sweetheart.”

“Love you. I will, don’t worry,” he says with a sleepy smile, resting his head on her shoulder a moment.

Too cute.

“Drive safe Jean okay?” Gianna smiles.

“I will. Gotta get this precious cargo there in one piece,” I grin, giving Marco a playful squeeze on the shoulders.

I run around to the driver’s side as Marco slumps into the passenger seat. We bid Gianna another farewell and pull out into the road. Marco settles back with a contented sigh, gazing sleepily out the window.

“...I really like your family,” I say after a moment.

Marco's gaze jerks towards me, a look of surprise on his face, but it quickly softens into a smile.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “I like them too.”

“I can't believe how much your Aunty Max looks like your mam!”

“I know. Apparently they'd always get mistaken for twins when they were kids.”

Marco tells me more about his aunty and uncle during the drive; the shenanigans Dave gets up to at family parties and the jumpers Max makes for them every Christmas.

We pull up outside Marco’s much sooner than I would like. Luckily he doesn't seem to notice, continuing his story about the time Dave ended up in A&E, after losing a fight with a goose that took a disliking to him.

We giggle and laugh with our heads resting against the back of our seats, our general sleepiness starting to take over.

He looks over at the front door and sighs. “Guess I should head in,” he says with a sad smile, unbuckling his seat belt. “Thanks again for the lift.”

“Anytime.”

I pause. Secretly hoping he invites me in to hang out. I know he won't though. It's late and we've got a long drive tomorrow...Still though.

“So erm, d'you..?” he starts and I hold my breath.

“Do you...still wanna pick us up at eleven tomorrow?”

“Oh. Erm...yeah 'course. Eleven still works for me.”

I make a point of ignoring the disappointment I feel in the pit of my stomach.

“Okay cool,” he says climbing out of the car. It feels like he has something else to say. “See you tomorrow then. Drive home safe.”

“Yeah, see you tomorrow,” I reply, trying to work out what expression I can see in his features, but it changes into a sweet smile before I get the chance.

He turns with a wave of his hand and I release a pent-up breath. My chest and stomach twist as I watch him head inside. It's not exactly an unpleasant feeling though.

I replay so many parts of this evening in my head on the drive home, but when my head finally hits the pillow, it's the voice of Dave that sends me to sleep with a smile.

'They'd make a lovely couple wouldn’t they?'

_________________________________

Connie helps me load up the car before waving me off (with an actual fucking hanky he got from god knows where) with an obnoxiously loud 'Farewell my beloved!'

Due to a couple of other people booking time off, there was absolutely no way Connie could get away from work before 8pm tonight, so he's joining us later. I feel bad knowing he’ll be on his own for the journey. I would have offered to go with him but that would have meant making Eren and Marco late too and it seemed silly not to make the most of our stay.

I park my car outside Eren and Marco’s and give the horn a quick toot, rolling the window down so I can lean on my elbow while I wait. My phone beeps after less than a minute. I’m expecting something silly from Marco but it’s from Eren.

Jaegermeister:

Good fucking luck

What the hell?

HeresJeany:

???????

Jaegermeister:

>:-)

Before I tap out another reply, the front door opens and the meaning behind Eren’s message becomes all too clear.

“Morning!” Marco says cheerfully.

He’s got his hair tied back again. A few wavy tendrils are escaping from where it’s loosely pulled back…It looks really fucking good.

“Hey you,” I smile, not really bothering to hide the affection in my tone.

“Good morning my favourite douche!” Eren squawks obnoxiously, appearing behind Marco with a shit-eating grin.

“Your smelly ass needs one!”

My reply doesn’t faze him in the slightest.

“You doing alright?” he asks with a knowing smirk I’m glad Marco can’t see.

I decide to ignore him, jumping out of the car to open the boot for Marco.

After loading up their bags, I connect my phone to the car stereo. It takes nearly three hours to get to Dauper, but the music I've put together for the journey is a veritable 90s/00s wet dream of a playlist so we’re in for a good time.

Marco catches my eye and smiles as he recognises the opening bars of Sabotage by the Beastie Boys surging through the speakers. I smirk back before checking on Eren.

"We all clunk-clicked back there?"

"Yes Mam."

"Right let's go then."

After our rendezvous with everyone at Sasha’s, we head off – Mikasa taking Sasha, Armin and Historia in one car with Bert and Reiner in the other. The busy streets of Trost gradually fall away as we make our way to the motorway. There's a buzz in the car that affirms just how excited we all are for the trip. Between sing-alongs, taking the piss out of shitty drivers and sniggering at weird place names, the journey goes by quickly. Even the heavy rain we hit half an hour in doesn’t dampen our spirits.

Marco is especially animated, twisting in his seat to laugh and joke or reaching forward to turn the music up every time of one his favourites comes on (which is often!). The whole car vibrates when Goon Squad by Deftones gets turned up a notch and we all sing (scream) the lyrics as we clear the last of the rain clouds.

“I feel like ‘Goon Squad’ would be a good name for us if we ever decide to become vigilantes and fight crime,” Eren says as the next song starts and we catch our breath.

“Maybe for you two,” I tease. “I think Captain Kirschtein and the Goon Squad sounds better though.”

“You fucking wish.”

“Hmm, I don’t think I know this one,” Marco says nodding at the stereo.

I cock an eyebrow at him as the persistent riff of Good Morning, Captain starts up again. “How can a total 90s dweeb like you not know Slint?”

He looks at me blankly. “Slint?”

“Oh my god. Spiderland? Are you kidding me?? Right, you need to listen to this song.”

Eren starts babbling away to Marco about the album and how the band originally wanted it to be instrumental, that is until I turn and smack him on the leg.

“Okay OW!”

“Well fucking shut up! You can tell him when the song’s over!”

Crashing cymbals and guttural guitars fill the car as Marco taps out the rhythm on his knee. When the song reaches its crescendo, he looks over at me.

“Oh man, I think I have a new band boner!”

I laugh, because it’s obviously a joke, but he says it with such a salacious grin that I blurt out, “Wait, seriously?”

All he does in reply is stick his tongue between his teeth and waggle his eyebrows at me.

Shit that’s hot.

I cover how flustered it makes me with a chuckle and focus on the road. My imagination starts running wild though, and I can’t help the way my gaze slides over to Marco’s crotch just to have a cheeky look.

“Saw that.”

My eyes snap up to Eren in the mirror.

“Saw what?” Marco asks, thankfully oblivious.

“You didn’t see shit Jaeger.”

He chuckles, very obviously pleased with catching me red-handed.

Despite all the singing and chatting, Eren still manages to conk out about two hours into the journey. Never in my life have I known this guy stay awake on a long car trip.

“Oh, man down,” Marco smiles quietly looking back at Eren.

My eyes flit up to the mirror and I see his reflection; slumped down into his hoody and gently rocking with the car’s movement. I turn the music down a little. I don’t really need to – Eren could sleep through the apocalypse – but Marco’s hushed voice makes me feel like I should.

After a few songs, I notice Marco glancing at me out of the corner of my eye, his mouth opening and closing as if he wants to say something. Eventually he clears his throat and speaks.

“Hey I meant to ask…” he trails off, looking oddly awkward all of a sudden.

“Yeah?”

He scratches his neck and looks out of his window instead of at me.

“I know you and Connie are roomies but…I figured he might be sharing with Sasha so…I was thinking it might be nice if - I mean I don't know what the sleeping arrangements are at this place but," his eyes flit over to me as he babbles and stutters. "Do you...do you maybewannasharearoomwithme?”

Ba-dump.

I’ve thought about it. Obviously I've thought about where I might be sleeping - where he might be sleeping - but I figured people would just pair off when we got there and that Eren would somehow wingman me to make sure I share with Marco.

What I didn't think about was Marco just coming straight out and asking me!

Shit. How do I answer this without completely giving myself away or making it weird?

“E-Err,” I stammer, my grip tightening on the steering wheel.

“We don't have to!" he backtracks when I fail to answer. “If you've already arranged something with Eren or Armin or whoev-”

My determination not to screw this up brings confidence surging back to my voice in an instant. If he’s got the guts to ask me, there’s no way I’m going to ruin it by losing my cool.

“We can share a room.”

“…Yeah?” Marco asks with a slight tone of disbelief.

“Yeah ‘course we can share a room. It'll be fun,” I add with a big smile to show him I’m not just being polite.

“Okay...cool,” Marco replies.

The way he ducks his head to hide his own smile and blush makes me giddy, though that feeling is definitely coupled with weird mixture of nervousness and anticipation. My stomach starts flipping at the thought of what might be whispered and confessed in the dark, when we're wrapped in soft blankets and sleepiness has lifted our filters…

Then a short but incredibly loud snort from Eren snaps me back to the present. Marco and I both lock eyes before breaking into hysterics.

“What the hell!?” I laugh, with Marco wheezing beside me.

“Huh? Wha?” Eren murmurs, squinting at us with sleepy eyes and wiping the drool from his chin.

_________________________________

By late afternoon we reach Dauper. After staying within close range of each other on the motorway, we all manage to take the exit at the same time and follow Sasha’s car as it weaves its way along the narrow, grass-lined roads.

The higher we climb, the more beautiful the scenery becomes. The houses become less frequent and older in style, broken up by farmers’ fields, rolling hills and the occasional mill.

“Deer! Oh my god there’s deer in that field!” Marco says excitedly, causing Eren to press his face up at the window and gawk.

There’s so much wildlife here. Aside from the deer we also spot a huge flock of geese flying in a V-formation above us, a fox zipping across a field and we narrowly miss hitting a pheasant that thought it was a good idea to stand in the middle of the road.

After a couple of tight turns and an awkward encounter with a tractor, we pull onto the cobbled lane with the cottage at the end. The car judders and wobbles as we follow Sasha, with Bert and Reiner behind us. Eventually, we stop outside a stone building with blue pastel windows and a yellow door.

“Wow. This looks nice,” Marco says with bright eyes after we climb out of the car.

It really does.

Armin gasps from the open door of Sasha’s car, looking at the driveway. “How am I going to get to the door? My Vans are going to get ruined!”

The rain stopped over an hour ago, but it must’ve been especially heavy in Dauper if the puddles around us are anything to go by. My eyes travel down Armin’s all-black outfit to the new lilac Vans on their feet. Yep. Those kicks are gonna be fucked.

Marco chuckles beside me and asks, “Why are you wearing them for a trip to the countryside? I thought you were smart!”

“Typical bloody PhD student – all those brains and no common sense,” Eren grumbles heading in Armin’s direction.

“I’ve got sensible clothes in my bag! I just wanted to be comfy for the journey. Plus their cute as fuck,” Armin adds with a cheeky grin that makes me smile.

“Alright c’mere princess.”

Eren sweeps Armin off their feet, earning a loud laugh from Sasha and a whoop from Historia.

“Eren!” Armin cries with a smile.

“Do you want your shoes to get muddy or not?” He starts heading to the door and calls over his shoulder, “Can someone get my bags? Hands are a bit full of idiot here!”

“Yeah I got ‘em,” I laugh, bending over my seat to reach into the back.

When I straighten up, I feel eyes on me and turn to see Marco, a red blush blooming on his face as he quickly looks down.

Erm…?

“H-here, let me take the guitars for you,” he says reaching out his hand, still not meeting my eyes.

“Oh, thanks.”

Was he…was he checking me out just now??

I walk around to the open boot, purposely (and unnecessarily) bending over again to get my own guitar.

“You threatening us with a good time Kirschtein?” Reiner barks behind us, laughing as he walks past with Bert in tow.

“You wish!” I yell as I dig around in the boot.

I look back at Marco with a sly grin, straightening up to give him mine and Eren’s guitars, but keeping my back arched so my ass sticks out.

“Here you go,” I say, my tongue poking slightly between my teeth.

“Thanks,” he replies, ducking his head with a smirk, the blush on his cheeks intensifying.

Excitement sparks through me as I watch him walk away. As if I just flirted with him! And he didn’t seem to mind!

I follow him along the yellow gravel path, lined with daisies and bluebells. The back door opens straight onto the kitchen, which is an impressive mix of exposed stone, patterned tiles and rich blue cabinets. My eyes follow the old, wooden beams across the ceiling, down to a large dining table at the opposite end.

“Woah. This place is stunning!” Marco chirps, turning in a slow circle as he takes it all in.

Cute.

He cranes his head to look up the staircase beside the back door.

“Should we put our bags in a room or-”

“Guys come see how cosy the living room is!” Armin yells, appearing in the doorway opposite us.

They reach forward and grab Marco’s hand before we’ve even had a chance to reply, dragging him through the door. I follow them both with a smile.

Wow. It certainly is cosy in here, though way bigger than I was expecting; they must have knocked down a wall down at some point. There are rugs all over the floor, cushions and throws all over the furniture and bookshelves all over the walls. Aside from the TV mounted on the wall, everything has a comforting, old-timey feel to it. The beams across the ceiling match the ones in the kitchen, but there’s no exposed stone from what I can see. Instead, a rich navy colour covers the walls.

Everyone’s in the living room now, except Sasha, but she soon makes her presence known.

“Hey guys?” she calls from the kitchen.

“Yeaaah?” a few of us reply.

She appears in the doorway with a look that spells ‘trouble’.

“Bedrooms are first come first serve and I may have forgot to mention, some are waaay nicer than others…Bagsie the master bedroom!” she cries racing off.

Everyone silently glances at each other before bursting into action. There’s a massive crush as we all try to fit through the doorway at once. Thankfully I hadn’t sat down yet so I get through quickly, heading for the staircase just ahead of everyone else.

I’ll get us a good room Marco don’t you wor- “Ahh!!”

Someone pulls my ankle and I land flat on the stairs. I look up to see Mikasa long-jumping over me and racing up the rest of the steps.

“Go Kasa!” Armin shouts somewhere behind me.

I try to get my legs back under me before I’m trampled. Luckily, the next thing I feel is a pair of warm hands hooking under my arms and lifting me up.

“Man down!” Marco laughs. “C’mon Jean we can do thi- Ahhh!”

Marco collapses on top of me as Eren scrambles over both of us.

“Eren! You fucking tool! Mikasa’s already won you a room!” I squawk.

Someone else tries to get passed us but Marco gets up before they manage it.

“Not so fast Bertie boy!” Marco cries, blocking Bert’s path. “Go on Jean! Go!”

I leave Marco to wrestle the giant and hop up the rest of the stairs two at a time. I dive left but quickly back up when I see the bunk beds against the wall – No fucking thank you! Footsteps thunder up the stairs so I take my chances with the first room on the right.

Oh thank fuck.

I hop up onto the double bed, claiming it as my own and more than willing to fight if anyone tries to take it from me.

Bert sticks his head in the door muttering a quick ‘shit’ when he sees me sitting on the bed. There’s a commotion further down hall. I really want to go look when I hear Sasha screaming ‘Mikasa! Put me down!’ but I dare not leave my spot.

“Bunk beds!? No fucking thank you!” Historia’s voice. I have an awful feeling about where this is going. “Haha! Give it up Kirschtein! This room is mine!”

She runs towards me, with a manic grin, trying to grab my legs so she can pull me off.

“No no no! Marco! Help!”

Historia and I both laugh and giggle as she tries to get a hold on me. I keep her at bay with the two pillows I’ve grabbed, just long enough for Marco to come in and save the day.

“Waahhh!”

Distracted by our battle for the bed, she doesn’t realise Marco’s behind her until he’s lifting her up over his shoulder.

“Oh no you don’t!” he laughs carrying her out as her little legs wiggle and kick.

He plops her on the floor, runs back inside and closes the door. I hop over to join him, both of us laughing as we brace ourselves, ready for someone to push it open. Luckily no one does and we slump down to the floor after a minute or two, our faces flushed from all the excitement.

“Seems like we’re safe for now,” I smile, leaning my head against the door.

“Yeah,” Marco replies taking in his surroundings. “Hey this room is pretty nice. Good job.”

It is now that I look at it. It’s not super big and the window doesn’t let much light in, but the peachy paint, wall tapestries and salt lamps create a really snug, mellow vibe.

“Aw look, they’re cute,” Marco says pointing up.

I smile at his reaction, looking up to see a dozen little crochet plant pots hanging from a wooden beam, woven flowers sitting inside each one. They do look very sweet all dangling there above the bed.

“My grandma used to crochet stuff for me, when she was alive,” I smile.

“Oh yeah?” He tilts his head to look at me.

“Yeah, lots of bonnets when I was a baby, then toys. She was really good at animals. I had a whole farmyard at one point. My favourite was Buchwald the horse.”

“Buchwald?” Marco laughs, his breath tickling my cheek.

“Yeah, she was half German and she often gave them German names. His mane was really cool. It was made of this thick but super soft wool or something. I used to like running my fingers through it.”

“Oh I had a toy I used to do that with! Mine was a lion though. Rory - you know because…lions roar.”

An unattractive snort escapes me and he chuckles softly, his eyes not just looking at me, but seeming to take in my whole face. I wish I had the willpower to stay where I am, but I get a little flustered at our close proximity and get up, grabbing one of the cushions and a throw that’s fallen off the bed as I go.

“You reckon it’s safe to get our bags now?” he asks.

“Maybe, don’t let your guard down completely though. Hey Marco, look at this.”

I’d never even heard of this book until Marco gave it to me so I don’t know what the chances are of finding another copy here of all places but there it is – What we see in the stars – the book Marco gifted me after our visit to Trost museum, sitting on the stone windowsill.

“Oh wow!” Marco says when he sees what I’m holding.

Butterflies start flipping in my stomach. He reaches out and I swear I feel it hum with energy or some shit when he takes it from me. My pulse quickens. He holds it with a soft smile, glancing at the other star themed trinkets on the windowsill.

“Weird. It’s like we were meant to have this room,” he says with an awkward laugh.

Asddfghhjkl!! I was thinking it, but I didn’t think he’d actually fucking say it!

I nervously laugh too, my face turning crimson.

“Haha, yeah. Maybe it’s a good omen for some stargazing tonight.”

Then as if to say, ‘we’ll see about that’ Mother Nature decides to fuck me over – the gentle pitter-patter outside turns into a downpour, hammering against the window.

“Well fuck.”

“Yeah. Looks like we’re staying in tonight.”

_________________________________

After unpacking, nobody is in the mood to brave the rain for the sake of the pub, so we decide to have a night in; everyone’s brought some food for a buffet anyway. I have a quick shower, stick my comfy clothes on and then head downstairs to join everyone.

Eren and Armin are gathered around the woodburning fireplace, constructing a pile of logs and kindling. There’s a spot on the sofa next to Marco with my name on it. I sit next to him with a smile and a sigh, sinking into the plush green velvet.

“Do you guys even know what you’re doing?” Historia asks, looking rather regal sitting in a Chesterfield wingback chair.

“Well, I’m a man so I assume it’s in my DNA somewhere,” Eren smirks, knowing fine well he’s going to wind Historia up with that comment.

“That is the biggest load of bullshit I have ever heard! Penises are not valid qualifications for fire building!” she protests.

“What about penises?” Reiner grins suddenly appearing in the doorway, earning a very big eyeroll from me.

“Yes!” Eren cries when the tiniest of fires flickers into existence, both arms in the air. “AND JESUS WEPT! FOR MAN HAD CREATED FIRE!” It flickers out the moment he stops speaking. “…Shit.”

Historia is beside herself, hanging over the arm of the chair and cackling at Eren’s disappointed face.

“Well you bloody have a go then!” he snaps.

“I’ve never lit a fire before and I’m not arrogant enough to just assume I can,” Historia snaps back.

“Maybe there’s a book somewhere explaining how to do it,” Armin suggests.

“Min we are NOT reading a book to find out how to do something as basic as light a fire,” Eren says with a huff.

Reiner and Bert opt for the biggest armchair, the shorter pulling the other one into his lap and twining their legs together.

“Thanks again for switching Historia,” Bert smiles.

“No worries. Though I’m sad I won’t get to see one of you trying to fit into that top bunk.”

“You’re too nice Historia. I’d have paid good money to see Bert sleeping in that with his big legs hanging off the end,” Marco smirks.

“Glad we didn’t come begging to you then,” Reiner says, throwing a cushion at Marco.

Once Eren and Armin (though mainly Mikasa) finally get the fire going we help out with food and before long, there are all kinds of tasty things to pick at on the dining table. Although not everything makes it there (Sasha insists on ‘testing’ everything before we lay it out). The homemade stuff looks especially good – some bread from Armin, a chickpea dahl from Historia and a pasta salad courtesy of Marco’s mam.

After everyone’s first plateful, we decide to dig out some board games for the evening’s entertainment. Though it takes us a while to agree on which one to play.

“We’ve got to play Monopoly,” states Armin. “It’s a classic!”

“Yeah, no. I’d rather not stay up until 4am mortgaging all my properties because you’ve somehow fucked me over again,” Eren glares.

“Let’s split into teams and start with something simple,” suggests Sasha. “Ooh! And whichever team wins the most games gets to snuggle Maggie!” she grins, grabbing a tiny highland cow from a nearby shelf and holding it aloft like a scene from the Lion King.

After a game of Boggle descends into ‘which team can make the dirtiest words’, we play an insanely intense game of Jenga, followed by a much less stress-inducing game of Pictionary. Whatever we play though, Marco and I have an absolute ball. Everything seems to make us laugh way more than usual and our desire to team up for everything creates lots of opportunities for playful touch. At one point, when he wins us a wedge in Trivial Pursuit, I squeeze his arm for a ‘well done’ and he boops me on the nose.

Cue me melting into a puddle on the rug.

By the time most of the buffet has gone, each team has one win a piece, so Eren demands a game of strip poker to decide the overall winner.

“Okay hands up who actually knows how to play poker,” Historia asks with an eyeroll in Eren’s direction.

Only Eren and Reiner put their hands up.

“Okay fine, fucking…Strip Go Fish then!” Eren smiles.

It’s such a ridiculous idea that we all agree to give it a go. However, we all quickly catch on to the fact that we’re all targeting Eren. By the time everyone’s had their first turn, he’s lost both socks and his t-shirt.

“Hey Eren, got any threes?” I grin.

“No! Go fucking fish bitch!”

I curse and pick up a card.

“Hey Eren?”

“For fucksake Marco.”

“Got any Jacks?”

“Fucking hell. YES,” he grouses, causing everyone to break into hysterics again as he shimmies out of his jeans and sits huffily in just his underwear. “Right my fucking turn. Sasha, you got any sixes?”

“Ugh. Yes,” Sasha grouses handing them over. “Da-da da daaaah! DA-da da daaaah…” she sings while seductively taking off her sock.

Reiner’s turn.

“Hey Eren?”

“Jesus Christ no.”

“You got any…aces?”

“…Oh you absolute anus face.”

Everyone simultaneously cheers and screeches with laughter, knowing Eren has no choice but to get naked.

“Why are you all so desperate to see me naked!?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Mikasa deadpans. “Serves you right for suggesting it.”

“C’mon Eren! Time to show us the goods!

“Off! Off! Off! Off!”

We all tap a drumroll on our legs as Eren reaches into his underwear to cup his junk with one hand and pulls them down with the other. When they reach the floor, the sound we make is deafening – Thank fuck there are no neighbours to worry about!

He sits down with a shit-eating grin. “Well at least you can’t all pick on me anymore.”

We continue the game until Sasha notices a set of headlights moving past the window – Connie is finally here. She gets up to meet him and returns moments later with a seriously tired looking Connie trailing behind her.

“Hey!” We all say, greeting him almost in unison.

“Hey!...Why the fuck is Eren naked?”

That sets us all off laughing again but we eventually compose ourselves enough to fill Connie in on all the details. Sasha offers to show Connie where he’s staying and we decide to give up on Go Fish, letting Eren put his clothes back on. Armin and Historia offer to make everyone a hot chocolate and we all settle into various cosy spots around the room.

I sneak a peek out the window for the hundredth time that evening. The rain has stopped but it’s still overcast. Not one fucking star in the sky.

Marco must sense my frustration when I sit down next to him with a huff.

"Still cloudy huh?"

"Yeah. Not even a patch of sky on show."

He taps at his phone. "Weather's meant to get better. Maybe we'll get lucky with the sky tomorrow night."

"Yeah I hope so. It would be shit to come out here and not see a single fucking star.” I look up to find Marco smiling at me. “Though I guess, there are other good things about being here.”

His eyes twinkle and there’s a pause - probably just a second but it feels like much longer.

“The hot chocolate?” he smiles cocking an eyebrow.

“Yes the hot chocolate, definitely the hot chocolate.”

“I figured.”

“Yeah.”

“Mmmhmm.”

We jostle each other in the shoulder with a giggle.

“Here you go!” Armin appears with two steaming mugs for us.

They beam at me when I take mine and I can’t help but smile back. It can’t all be in my head if Armin’s noticed too. Things between Marco and I have definitely shifted. Only ever so slightly, but enough to make my heart skip a beat at the possibilities of what it could mean…

Blushing, I take a sip of my drink and smile. Marco does the same before covering his mouth for a big yawn.

God, he looks so cute when his eyes get all scrunched up like that.

“You doing okay there sleeping beauty?”

Another yawn hits him straight after the first making me snort.

“Oof. Yeah sorry. I think this week’s catching up with me. I didn’t sleep too well the night before my interview and I’m still feeling it.”

“Aw. Don’t force yourself to stay up. No-one will mind if you wanna head off to bed.”

“Yeah I know but” - another big yawn cuts him off – “I don’t really want to…I’m having a good time.”

His sleepy eyes find mine and he smiles, so so softly…I can hardly bare to look at him but I’m powerless to stop.

If I kissed him right now, he’d taste of hot chocolate.

He looks down at his drink and takes a nice long sip. After setting his mug down he pulls out his hair tie and cards his fingers through his roots, shaking out his wavy tendrils, and then leans his head back against the sofa with a contented sigh.

It’s not even fair how gorgeous he looked doing that.

I shuffle along and close the tiny gap between our sides. Marco, understanding my intention, lets his head fall to my shoulder. He snuggles his cheek against the fabric of my t-shirt and settles down with a deep exhale.

I’ve just closed my eyes to enjoy the moment when Historia clears her throat, catching everyone’s attention.

“Soooo…anyone else noticed Sasha still hasn’t come back?”

“Oh?...Oh! Yeah, you’re right,” Eren answers.

We all share a moment of squeeing like excited schoolgirls, everyone sharing the hope that Sasha and Connie might finally become official. I feel relieved knowing Mikasa and Historia feel the same way. Sasha must have said something to them about wanting things to go in that direction.

After another half hour or so, the warmth of the hot chocolate starts to make everyone pretty sleepy so we all decide to get ready for bed. Marco grumbles when I nudge him awake from his doze, but his face immediately softens when he remembers where he is.

“C’mon buddy. Bedtime.”

I let Marco brush his teeth and use the bathroom first, and by the time I return he’s flat out asleep.

Doing my best not to disturb him, I climb under the covers and lie on my side facing him. I remember the last time we slept in the same bed and how nervous I felt. I remember how simultaneously over-the-moon and terrified I was. How my heart pounded in my chest.

This time I feel completely at peace. I let a goofy grin take over my face and breathe with Marco, watching his peaceful face with every inhale and exhale. I brush his hair out of his face and marvel at how steady my movements are, how unbothered I am by the prospect of him waking up and catching me. My eyes start to soften as I think about waking up next to him tomorrow and how much I’m looking forward to it…

_________________________________

“Jean…Hey Jean.”

There’s a warm hand on my arm, switching between stroking my skin and gently rocking me.

“Jean wake up,” the soft voice continues…Marco’s voice…and Marco’s fingers brushing my hair off my forehead.

“Hmm?” I scrunch up my eyes and roll over.

“Hey, you awake?”

“Y-yeah,” I manage, blinking my eyes until they adjust.

Marco’s sitting beside me on the bed, looking over me.

“What’s up? Are you okay?”

“Yeah sorry to wake you, it’s just…I just got up to pee and noticed the clouds have gone. You wanna go look at the stars?”

“Oh, erm,” it takes me a moment to process his words, but excitement sparks through me when my brain finally catches up. “Yeah definitely. Just err, gimme a sec to get changed.”

We shuffle about in the dark as we try to find our warmer clothes, the odd whispered giggle filling the silence when we inevitably bump into furniture or each other. Once we’re wrapped up nice and warm, I creak the bedroom door open, and we sneak downstairs as quietly as possible. I chance a look out the kitchen window when we reach the backdoor and see a starry patch of sky between the outline of two trees. My breath hitches in anticipation as I feel around for the torch hanging by the door frame.

“Marco, do me a favour,” I whisper, turning to him.

“Hmm?”

“Don't look up until I say so. Trust me it will be way better.”

“Alright.” I hear rather than see his smile.

“Okay let's go.”

The latch makes a soft click as I open the door and, thankfully, the hinges don’t squeak when I swing it open.

Cold air greets us, carrying that unique scent of rain, soil and pine needles you only ever get on a rainy day in the countryside. We step over the threshold and follow the light of my torch.

“Eep!” There's a loud crunch in the gravel as Marco grabs my shoulder. “I can't see where the dips are!” he giggles in a hushed voice.

“Here you numpty, hold my hand.”

Our palms slot together and I almost have to pinch myself over how warm and comforting and right they feel. I squeeze Marco’s hand as I tug him forward, navigating around the puddles until we reach the narrow road. There are less trees to block the view a few yards further down – the perfect viewing spot.

“We can just walk in a straight line from here so I’m gonna turn the torch off. Remember not to look up yet though.”

“Okay,” he replies giving my hand a quick squeeze.

I pocket the torch and wait a few seconds for our eyes to adjust to the darkness. Once I can make out my feet next to the grassy verge, I start walking.

“Hoo-hoo.”

“Aah!”

An owl flapping and hooting makes us both jump out of our skin and we grab each other, wheezing and giggling like a couple of idiots.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Marco whisper-shouts. “What the hell?”

“C-come on,” I laugh. “It’s not much further.”

This time I lace our fingers together, stroking my thumb over the back of his hand as I pull us further into the darkness. I feel his thumb do the same.

“Okay this should do. You ready?” I ask bouncing a little on the balls of my feet.

“Y-yeah,” he chuckles.

“Okay…look up.”

A sharp intake of breath punctuates the night air as we gasp at the sight before us. A canopy of lights, each unique in their depth and glow, consumes the sky above our heads.

“Oh my g-god.”

“I know.”

I will never get over this view. Never. It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve seen it before; the sheer depth of the universe always knocks me for six. All this beautiful light filling the sky, despite having started its journey thousands, or even millions of years ago. It’s as if the starlight has travelled just for us, to create this perfect moment. I squeeze Marco’s hand tightly as I start to recognise some familiar sparkles.

“Look, you see that bright star there?” I ask, leaning into his space and pointing at the sky. “That’s Rigel. It’s the bottom of my favourite constellation Orion. See there, that’s Orion’s belt.”

“Oh yeah! Is that reddish one part of Orion?”

“Yeah that’s Betelgeuse! It’s a collapsing star! Oh and can you see those ones next to it?”

“Mmhmm.”

“That’s the constellation Gemini – that super bright star at the head of it is called Pollux. Oh, and that zigzagging cluster is Cassiopeia. And then if you go further up you can see the big dipper. It’s the one that’s kind of shaped like-”

I stop when I realise Marco’s gaze is no longer following the end of my finger. A million galaxies shine above his head but he’s looking at me. I can see them all reflected in his eyes, just like that time in the planetarium except even more breathtakingly beautiful. His thumb starts stroking my hand again as he takes a step closer.

“Jean…”

“…Yeah?”

His other hand moves to my waist and I forget how to breathe.

He closes the gap between us, so much so that I feel his breath tickle my skin…and then his lips touch mine.

It’s brief, barely even a peck before he draws back a fraction, only a whisper of space between us. He releases a shallow breath. My heart yammers in my chest. A heavy second passes between us, but then, when I squeeze his hand and start stroking his knuckles, he leans forward and finds my lips again.

The grip he has on my waist tightens as he untangles our fingers and holds the back of my head, pulling me closer to him. My own hands snake over his back, holding him just as tightly as I tilt my head and melt against his soft lips.

And then his tongue finds mine and I die on the spot.

Oh my god. I’m kissing him. I’m kissing Marco. I’M KISSING MARCO!

AND. I. CANNOT. GET. ENOUGH.

I feel overwhelmed and utterly insatiable all at once. Like, I know I’m kissing him, but I wish I was kissing him more somehow. I’m kissing him and I wish I was kissing him and I never want to stop kissing him…

…But he stops kissing me.

“Jean, wait I’m sorry I can’t…I don’t know if…I don’t know if I…”

I freeze.

“I mean…I want to kiss you, but…I can’t do this if it’s just a one-time thing okay? I don’t…I don’t want this to be something casual that we joke about at the next band practice like it was nothing. I-I…I like you, okay? I’ve liked you for a long time…longer than I should have…”

Fuck.

This is it. This is the moment. These are the words I’ve been longing to hear but never dared to believe I actually would. Holy fuck! But…the way he said them…

He doesn’t know. How can he not know?

How can he not know how much he means to me? How can he not know how much affection floods my body when I look at him? How I have to remind myself to breathe when he touches me. How my heart scorches me from the inside out every time we’ve ever said goodbye.

“J-Jean?” His voice breaks and my heart breaks with it.

I step forward and reach for his hands on instinct. There’s still a warmth to them, despite the chilly night air.

I’ve rehearsed this fantasy a thousand times in my head, but nothing prepares me for the real thing. I don’t know where to begin, whether it’s even possible to make him understand the depth of my adoration.

He squeezes my fingers ever so slightly, like he’s scared anything more might break me, but his delicate touch is all the courage I need to start speaking.

“Marco…you were never a ‘one-time’ option for me.”

His breath hitches, eyes sparkling as he lifts his head to look at me again.

“I like you too okay? Like, A LOT. I think…I think you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met and I you’re my favourite person to spend time with, but it’s been getting harder and harder because of how much I want to touch you all the time and kiss you and stroke your hair and-”

I puff out a breath and gather my thoughts. The darkness makes it easier to say what I want to say.

“I don’t want this to be a ‘one-time’ thing either. I want…I want everything with you.”

He steps forward, kisses me again and all the stars above our heads turn supernova.

#fic: you had me at b minor #jeanmarco #jean x marco #jeanmarco fanfic #jean x marco fanfic #jean kirschstein #jean kirstein #marco bodt #aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction #aot fandom

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wonryllis · 16 days

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wahhh perfect timing thank you so much for letting us come to you for help 🥲

is it possible to write and do everything on mobile tumblr even if it's inconvenient? i'm a new writer and i really want to do all what other writers on here are able to do (like the formatting and all those aesthetics i suppose!) but i'm worried i'd specifically need to have a laptop to publish my works as proper as theirs, but since i don't have one i'll have to make do 😞 you seem to be knowledgeable about it so i want to know if it's possible to do everything on the mobile tumblr (just with a little more hassle, but possible nonetheless!) or should i try website tumblr on mobile? i'm afraid it would refresh any time though and i lose progress 😵‍💫

how do people do the wordcounts? i can never seem to get the hang of it, do they write their work somewhere where words can be counted or does tumblr already have that feature that i don't know of? bc if so, i don't know any apps for that (all i really have is my phone TT) and if it's okay, can you perhaps let me in on what you use for it or alternatives on the phone, please? (i'm really a newbie with tumblr and all🥲but i want to be able to navigate it expertly soon :))

i have also noticed that some writers do not have a cut to their work, like you know the 'keep reading' button? yes, i had this fic in my likes that had 30k wordcount and no cut at all and i had one heck of a time scrolling through my likes to find some things whenenever i come across that fic 😭😭😭 i thought that tumblr automatically cuts your work if it gets quite long, but it seems to be done manually if i'm not wrong? 😀

you seem to be the perfect person to ask these questions to so i hope you don't feel bothered by how much i've just blurted out :')

oh yes let's go bubbles it's time for me to shine＾ㅁ＾you have found the PERFECT person for these questions!!

you're welcome love, you can come to me anytime you have any queries i'd love to help!! it's totally okay and don't worry with time you will be able to expertly have your way around the app it's not that hard! and like i said you can always ask for help, if not me then someone else. and no you did not bother me at all <33

( 001. ) i dare say close to all of that formatting, aesthetics, writing and literally everything a blog needs is 100% possible just using the mobile tumblr!

i personally have never used the laptop for my tumblr besides just looking through my notifs when my phone is on charge. i legit do everything single thing from my phone, even the writing.

though i would say some things require you going back and forth with the web tumblr but it's okay cause it's not like an everyday thing.

things you can do on the mobile app: writing, post layouts(the three picture thing, different fonts, dividers, read more line thing), add the links(in posts), asks(answer and send including pictures and links and anonymous), change your description(including colors and fonts), change your background and accent colors, change your profile picture, queue, schedule and reblog posts, making side blogs and literally anything besides those mentioned below.

things you can not do on mobile tumblr and hence have to use the web tumblr: using colors(including gradient) for your fonts besides the default colors allowed on the app(you have to do it through html post editor available on the web tumblr post editor options), adding links in your description, blocking someone from your side blog, checking your activity status as in how many followers or notes you gained in a day or week or month, mass post editing(which is like editing the tags of multiple posts at once this one you need the laptop!) and that's all i can think of for now but it's the main things.

the chances of losing progress on tumblr is possible whether you use mobile app tumblr, mobile web tumblr or laptop tumblr. best thing is to use your google docs to write and then copy paste it to tumblr at the time of posting.

( 002. ) bingo! you are correct. tumblr does not have the feature to show the word count so writers do use different apps for it. google docs has the word count feature and i use it for my longer fics, wattpad also has the word count feature so for my headcanons and reactions i usually use wattpad.

( 003. ) this one is a bit complicated in a sense, let me explain it in small steps. so when you publish something you always have the option of putting the keep reading cut anywhere you want.

tumblr has this thing where under a specific tag, let's say enhypen imagines tag, in order to not clog up the dash of that specific tag it automatically adds the keep reading if your keep reading cut shows more than what tumblr allows. however all the other places like if anyone has liked it or rebloged it, the post will appear as originally or as presently the post is formatted.

so if in your likes that post is showing the entire fic it means the writer has not added the keep reading cut anywhere. but when you search up the enhypen imagines tag and find the same fic it will show a keep reading cut as per tumblr's rules.

this is the button for the read more option!

#BLOGtips #dulcet ✶ whispers.#୨୧ ` dove angels。#/ ⋆ nonnie ㅋ ㅋ !

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whmp · 6 months

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in case you're just here for the good stuff, i'll be tagging my personal ramblings as #whmpersonal so you can avoid em BUT this is tangentially related to the game project i'm working on, so stick around i guess? tl;dr: i'll probably make a more coherent post where I ask ppl for help (especially artists). also, i'll be more attentive and answer your asks faster, hopefully. : )

anyway, after a bit of a "review" of my creative process (and i guess my uhh way of living in general?) i've noticed that it's a huge clusterfuck. and that it has been since i was a kid. without some external pressure or an imposed structure (like deadlines, parents or strongly worded emails) i just sort of relied on random surges of productivity to carry me through life. on one hand, it's kinda fun: most of the time i'm not doing anything valuable and then all of a sudden i condense weeks worth of work into several sleepless days during which i feel like An Immortal Unstoppable God. lighting bolts shoot from my fingertips, my eyes glow in the dark, and my caffeine-to-blood volume ratio is hovering around 1.

unfortunately, it's not really sustainable. the "not doing anything valuable" stage that takes up most of my time is not me just chilling. it's me freaking the fuck out about not doing anything despite wanting to and finding myself just. not able to. not to mention that some things just need minor, but constant maintenance - at best i'd just forget about them and face the consequences later on. at worst i'd be acutely aware of them while procrastinating, clueless as to what's wrong with me.

couple that with a couple other unhealthy habits, a microscopic attention span and wow, i fit like all the criteria for adhd. i gotta admit i was super sceptical at first when doing any research, since, well. how the fuck am i even supposed to gain any unbiased insight into this. anyway, i spent a stupid amount of money on an official diagnosis (seriously why is this not covered by insurance gsygx), it took a million meetings and tests and i get a piece of paper that says i have add and deserve some medication.

this has also made me realize that i'm spread out super thin when it comes to projects. i love every single one of them, but im going to have to be a bit more realistic in terms of what can remain in "when it's done" limbo and what needs a bit of a push. the whump game is unique in that it's not just me who wants this to eventually get released. so! what this means is that it needs a proper, project structure. not a .txt on my desktop where i keep a backlog of missing features. but must important of all, it needs ~*people*~. this is the first time i took a step back and estimated how much time everything would take me and yeahhhh i was being very optimistic when i said "playable build in 2023" lol. i've been hesitant to ask for help bc 1. i'm stubborn : ) 2. im bad at coordinating stuff 3. i can't pay ppl - like seriously, there is one person making a model for me (if you're reading this sorry i didn't ask if you want a tag but this is just a personal post where i keep yapping) and it's looking so clean and professional,,, you gotta sell this as an asset.

HOWEVER im getting past the mentality of "i gotta do as much as i can by myself". and also taking meds so that im able to focus on tasks (both gamedev-related and others) and actually pay attention to what im doing. which is great news for development! and answering asks! ill be making a dev post where i tag all the ppl and will also ask for help.

that's it. im on a train rn and bored out of my mind so this is why this post exists, sorry. anyway check out this screenshot of a moment in clone high that i relate to deeply.

#whmpersonal #<- this is the tag #isn't it creative like wow i had to think about it for a couple of minutes #not tagging it as whump dev since it's just me rambling #I'm so bored you don't even know #this train is already late by like an hour??? god #shout out to łódź fabryczna gotta be one of the ugliest train stations known to man

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nighttimescribbles · 2 years

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ahh 🍬 nonnie here !! that recipe you provided looks amazing. and i love that i'll be giving carrot cakes another go. seeing that i've been slightly allergic to (raw) carrots, i always assumed i wouldn't enjoy carrot muffins or carrot infused desserts until my mum made some for work and let me try a piece. my world quite literally changed from then and it's been a few years since i've last been able to eat said dessert 🤭

anywho, i think i'll be able to make it this weekend so i'm looking forward to it. i'll update you when i inevitably find myself enjoying the recipe. i just know i will :)

also from foodie to foodie, i hope we'll be able to trade more recipes in the future. the lockdown was the perfect oppurtunity for me to experiment and master the basics of cooking. it's the one big thing that's changed me during that two-year period.

p.p.s. it's only fair that i give you the recipe i used for my muffins so here it is :) another coworker who tried it said it would taste better with nuts in it so i would suggest adding as much of your favourite kind as you desire 🤭

yeeeesssss!!!!!! i hate carrots but carrot cake is a whole other entity. it disposes of the vegetable-ness of the carrot and turns it into pure goodness. ❤️ it also reminds me of one of my fave snoopy comic strips 😂:

PLEASE do let me know how your muffins turn out this weekend! i hope they come out fab and bring all the boys to your yard - especially That One Boy *winkwinkwink*

always down to trade recipes! i think you've inspired me to start a new tag: kitchen adventures. it's really more proper to call it (mis)adventures, but i don't want to jinx my efforts 😂 i only started enjoying cooking during the lockdown too (omg there had to be at least one cooking/baking reference in the a/n's of bp 😂) but unlike you, i didn't bother to master it. i really only follow recipes when baking. the rest of the time, i just throw stuff in (and sometimes substitute stuff!) without measuring in typical asian cooking fashion.

BUUUUUUT i will definitely follow the recipe for your muffins! i might have all the ingredients on hand (not sure about the cocoa powder. gotta dig in the pantry for that!) so I'm suuuuuper excited to try it! hope i'm able to make time in the next couple of days for it ❤️

thank you for sharinggggg!!! sending you an advance 🧁 with a 😘

edit for p.s. some people add pineapple shreds to carrot cake! i don't know why and i don't know what it does, but one of my most fave versions of carrot cake is from a local chef who does just that! and tops if off with a tangy cream cheese frosting. delight in a bite, i tell you. 🤤

#asks #🍬nonnie #food #kitchen adventures #scribbles' grandmacore origin story #recipes #double chocolate banana muffin

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viscountessevie · 2 years

Note

I’d agree about the body type differences, Phoebe and Hannah are on the skinny (and as someone pointed out stereotypical period heroine) side whereas Ruby’s body type is like Florence Pugh’s which im not sure what the proper term is for. Ruby is shorter than Phoebe a bit but so is Florence, and between them Flo is the one I’d say is closer to Phoebe’s (and Hannah’s) body type so I get what that anon was saying about conventional attractiveness and wishing Fran’s new actress didn’t really fall under that

Thanks for the ask anon! Okay so I've seen this pop up a few times now. Before this ask, it was mentioned in my previous ask and I think that anon may have gotten it from a post in the main tag that I've seen before but for the life of me cannot find it right now. So if anyone sees that post mentioning Hannah not being like Ruby in physical likeness please do let me know in the comments thanks!

I just want to put this out there as a blanket statement: As someone who has always been skinny and not targeted to be ridiculed because of her weight, I feel like I'm not the best person to talk about this. So if anyone else better equipped wants to weigh in on this please feel free to do so!

That being said, here is my two cents: I kept googling the girls and comparing to see what 'different body type' I was missing because honestly the only thing I see is Ruby has a rounder face than Hannah and Phoebe. However, in this full length picture, she's looks to be my height and weight so I'd consider her skinny since her build reminds me of mine.

And to me personally, Florence Pugh is more curvier than any of the three Bridgerton girls.

As Trivia @hptriviachamp has mentioned in our discussions; "While she wished for better body diversity in bridgerton, neither Ruby nor Hannah fulfil that, and she's not gonna judge their acting ability by their looks- and that goes either way." And I feel the same way.

Would it have been great if we got more body diversity via Fran's new casting? Yeah! It would have been great to have a fat actress like Nicola or Barbie Ferreira to portray a character like Frannie. It would definitely minimise the villianising of plus size characters on the show through Penalty at the moment.

But we got Hannah Dodd and so there's no use wishing for someone else. Maybe we could get a curvy or plus size Sophie but we'll see!

My friends and I have speculated that the production team only wants Nicola and Penelope so that the spotlight can be shined on her as the token fat character sigh.

Relevant addition from Zara @jeanvanjer (with some edits from yours truly to make it flow better!):

Plus size Sophie works if they’re not following her story in the book exactly. But (for Frannie) as a rich girl and one of the Bridgertons would’ve been perfect for that rep. Even in other countries, back in the day, being bigger or curvier was a sign that you were well off. As for existing rep in the show, we’ll only get Nicola who I hope doesn’t get pressured to lose some weight for intimate scenes. There’s also a problem in any sort of Media that there’s just specific type of Plus size that’s acceptable. I mean as far as “plus size” rep goes and not what should really be fat rep because aesthetically there’s a difference right? This was an opportunity to show a diverse body type as a “diamond” Hannah is, I’m sure a wonderful actress, and deserves the role but there are definitely actors out there who are just as talented but don’t look like models. If they have an opportunity to recast a role, they should’ve been more conscious of how they could again positively represent a community that is always undermined especially when it comes to “aesthetics”.

Overall, I'll say it's okay to be sad and wish for more body diversity in the show but I honestly don't think Ruby brought body diversity into the show in the first place.

Thanks again for the ask and if anyone who is actually plus size and wants to add on this - feel free to via reblogs or comments (because my ask box is flooding and I'm going close them soon! Thanks for understanding :))

#bridgerton #francesca recasting news #francesca bridgerton #ruby stokes #hannah dodd #Trivia & Zaira's Stamps of Approval #Kanthypants & Eldest Daughters GC #Kanthypants & Eldest Daughter Stamp of Approval #Sanji Answers

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shirohige-pirates · 2 months

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Hey Doll

CisFem Reader x Thatch

CW: toxic parents, manipulation, The Plan™, smut, mdni, I'll add as we go I'm kind of fly by the seat of my pants on this one.

tag list: @mfreedomstuff @harahettania @clumsyraccoon

Chapter 7: How Does Your Garden Grow

Thatch guides you out to the garden, but once you stepped out into the backyard you had a much better sense of how rich Edward Newgate really was. The house had been large and impressive, the amenities and decor a balance of functional modern and a cozy traditional feel, so you already had some sense of things.

The backyard, if it was even proper to call it that, highlighted that the estate had two wings that came off the front section of the house, and created a courtyard feel for the area just off the back patio. There were a few places set up for people to sit around and eat, a barbecue pit, and a stone oven which had function, certainly, but also played the part of center piece with a mini bar and seating around it.

It was easy to picture most of the family outside enjoying a meal from the grill more often than not.

The garden stretched out even beyond the penned in courtyard. The patio you were on was elevated slightly compared to the rest of it, and you could see the paths leading out into distinct areas.

“Aside from just grilling food, we use this area for social events and other parties.” Thatch says, after giving you a moment to take it all in. “I think Pops wrote a third of the house and the entire courtyard off as a business expense when he expanded the place a couple of decades ago.”

Taking a few steps forward, he steps down from the back porch and looks up at you with a smile. “There’s a few different sections, but we don’t have to walk all of them today. There’s even a green house off the south wing. It has some vegetables in it, herbs, spices - things that are just harder to find fresh on this island.

“Is there something you like?” He prompts and your gaze shifts from everything else back to him.

“Pardon?”

“You were excited last night when I mentioned we had a garden.”

You can feel the blood rush to your face and you just hope it’s not visible. “I was - am - interested.” You correct and Thatch smiles. “I’ve seen plenty of flowers, but I’ve never really seen them just… growing.” You admit somberly. “They were already always cut and arranged.”

His smile falters a little, brows creasing, but it doesn’t last long before the smile is renewed. “I know what to show you then, shall we?” He questions, offering an elbow.

You accept it, placing your hand as you had just like last night. You lift your arm up a little higher than before, so Thatch doesn’t have to lean down as far. He explains some of the reasonings behind the layout and design, how things had changed over the years.

It’s interesting, but you recognize nervous chatter when you hear it, and you realize quickly that he’s just talking to distract himself. It certainly makes it easier to be around him with no one else around, the way he gets flustered being near you. It’s endearing, and your only fear is that it will turn out to be a falsehood.

Things didn’t look up and then continue to look up. Not like this. Something was going to break. Thatch was either going to turn mean once you moved into his apartment, or Mr. Edward was going to demand a rematch because you were just a fake, some doll hardly worth his kind and valued son. Something was going to break.

As long as it wasn’t you, you wouldn’t be blamed.

“Everything okay?” Thatch prompts and you look up, and then around, and realize that you can’t see the estate anymore.

“Yeah, I’m just… nervous.” You say honestly, before realizing that you’re saying that while isolated and alone with him, and continue speaking so you can clarify. “About this afternoon. I’m not nervous right now, I’m just,” you look around again. “Unsure where we are.”

The space itself is beautiful. The hedges are well-kept and there’s flowers lining the space in front of them. They’re tall though, maybe to create a sense of privacy or to help keep each section visually separate from the others, or maybe just because they grow best that way.

All thoughts of the estate and its location leave you, however, when you finally start to take your immediate surroundings in. The flowers lining the hedges are just a preview to the glory of the flowers around you right now.

Stepping away from Thatch, you reach out and brush your fingers over the petals of flowers you could name by heart, from what they meant to how they needed to be arranged. They all looked so different right now, so vibrant. Laid out with intent, you’re sure, but then left to fill in the gaps on their own.

Flower types were taken into account well, including shape and color, to create an aesthetically pleasing space. It also smelled amazing, softer scents lifting up sweeter ones. In the open garden it wasn’t so powerful as to be overwhelming, but you imagined there were some days where one didn’t walk the gardens - they left them to the bees.

“It’s beautiful.” You say quietly and Thatch smiles.

“Yeah… it is.” He clears his throat before motioning to a nearby stone bench. “If you want to sit and enjoy the sights for a while before we go back, we have time.”

“That would be nice.” You agree, going over and sitting down on the bench, your back to the hedges so you can look out over the majority of the space. “Did you and your family design these?”

“Hm? The different gardens?”

“Yeah.”

“It ended up being a kind of coming of age thing,” Thatch explains, standing a few paces away from you. “Not just to give something to the estate, but to have a place that was ours in a sense. Prove we could oversee a smaller project like this, how well we would or wouldn’t rely on others, that sort of stuff.”

“Growing up when your father owns a business is certainly unique.”

“Heh, it can be a little stressful, but it’s not like we’re in competition with ourselves, and it’s not like you have to do any of it either. A couple of my brothers hired other brothers to design their gardens, and aside from myself, Marco and Izou, only two others own their own businesses. But it’s not like we tease Haruta or Vista for their choices.” He explains.

“Family is not a source of any of the stress, then?”

“Exactly!” He beams. “Aside from the occasional brotherly aggravation.” He admits with fake grumble.

You smile, but even in the garden it fades. There’s a few moments of silence, and you let yourself enjoy the sun - you should’ve put sunblock on, Doll - and the soft breeze - don’t let your hair smudge your make up, Doll - and the sweet scents - ugh I hate these outdoor venues, the flowers stink.

It wasn’t often you got to enjoy the outdoors in peace, and Thatch seemed content to let you do just that. Looking over at him you catch his eyes shifting away from you, pink on his cheeks. Usually you could tell when someone was looking at you, but it didn’t seem to be the case with him.

“This… isn’t your garden though, is it?” You question, hesitantly. You don’t know him as well as you’d like in order to make such an assumption, but you do know flowers, and dealing with people’s associations to them. While these are beautiful, they don’t strike you as flowers Thatch would choose.

He scratches the back of his head idly. “Nah, this one is Izou’s. I can decorate pastries, but all this?” He waves his hand over the impressive collection of blossoms. “I might’ve been able to commission Izou, but yeah, this one isn’t mine.” He grins, looking down at you. “How’d you know?”

You look away, pressing your lips together. How strange was it for such a conversation to feel so intimate? It wasn’t like you’d never talked about flowers to someone before now. You’d critiqued arrangements and had gotten into flower arranging to such a degree you had been able to spot famous, and local, arrangers easily.

This shouldn’t be any different than any other explanation.

“This garden is well-designed and beautiful. The scents of the flowers are complex, but not off-putting, and the colors are exacting.” You’re not looking at him to see the concern on his face, and so you continue. “But it’s very harsh, in a way. Unforgiving. There’s no softness, and it’s not very in… inviting.” You manage to finish, feeling your heart speed up a little as you’re pointedly avoiding looking at him now.

“Plus the flowers all mean rude things.” You mutter after a moment and Thatch bursts out laughing.

“They do?” He asks, still laughing, and you nod.

“Meadowsweet implies uselessness.” You explain, pointing as you move from one flower to the next. “Orange lilies are signs of hatred, and the foxglove is insincerity.”

It takes Thatch a moment to stop laughing long enough to explain. “Izou wasn’t - haaa - wasn’t happy about the garden project.” He breathes in deep, turning away and nearly wheezing. “Told Pops he’d still put his - his - hahaha - his heart into it.”

You smile at the implication. Malicious compliance was something you could certainly understand. You’d only spoken with him a little this morning, and mostly about his business, but you could see him enjoying this space. Especially since no one else seemed to know just what it was built around.

A shrill short whistle cuts through the air and Thatch holds out a hand.

“That would be my dad letting the entire neighborhood know his sons need to come inside.” He explains. “Shall we?”

You take his hand as you stand, and leave it in his loose grip as you walk back to the house. Thatch walks much slower with your hand in his, you aren’t entirely sure if he’s being considerate, or if he’s just prolonging the return to the house. Maybe, honestly, a bit of both.

“There you are,” Izou says, greeting you both as you make it to the back patio. “Pops was - oh? Holding hands already, Thatch you sly dog.” He teases.

You don’t withdraw your hand and Thatch doesn’t let go, instead sighing at Izou as he holds your hand until you’re at the top of the patio. Finally letting go he looks at his brother.

“Everything’s settled then?”

“Yup, we’re not leaving for a little while still. The bird’s nesting in the living room, and Pops wanted to talk to the both of you before we left.” He says, and then gives you a much kinder smile. “Just to make sure we’re all on the same page, it’s nothing bad.”

“Certainly. I’m honestly surprised my parents agreed.”

“I don’t think Haruta left them much of a choice.” Izou admits with a mischievous smile.

Edward Newgate was waiting in the dining room, sitting where you’d sat earlier while Izou had talked about his business. He was dressed differently than you’d seen before, his clothing more casual, but there was something intimidating about him. Intimidating in a mafia sense and less in an international CEO kind of way.

Your parents were certainly grifters, and you thought maybe their tendencies would give them a leg up when it came to being dubious, but now you felt you may have been wrong. You were suddenly curious how Whitebeard Shipping and Trade had been initially financed.

You sat across from Newgate, and Thatch sat beside you. The old man’s stern face softened a bit as he regarded you.

“I apologize that you have to come with us, Miss Kakusho.” He says gently, and you shake your head.

“No, it’s okay. I understand why.” You agree. It was very possible that you’d arrive at your parents house and they’d have marines there, trying to convince them that you’d been kidnapped by Edward Newgate and were being held against your will. Or they’d simply bar them entry and screech about trespassing, or lie about what room was yours.

“Alright. The plan is to have Marco, Thatch, and Izou pack your room and empty it. Haruta will be driving, and I’ll be staying with you.” He says.

“They’re… going to pack my room up?” You question tilting your head.

“It’s not gonna be pretty.” Izou says. “We have some forty-two inch duffel bags, we’re just going to toss everything in those.”

“One room, the three of us, nothing of sentimental value to you,” Thatch looks up at the ceiling, calculating something in his head. “I can’t imagine it’ll take more than twenty minutes.”

“We can give Marco some coffee before we leave and he’ll pack it all in ten.” Izou muses.

“We want things to make it into the bags.” Thatch admonishes, a grin on his face.

“Concerns?” Pops asks you.

You look at the table, pressing your lips together. “Some, but I will do my best.”

“Such as?” He prods, and you shake your head.

“It’ll be okay then.” Thatch says after a moment of silence. “If you can’t put it to words we’ll still figure out how to make it work.” He assures you, putting one of his hands over yours and giving you a smile.

“Before we go though, I just want to make sure we’re in the same boat.” Pops says, but his voice seems warmer than before, like he’s trying to be as gentle as he can. “You do not want to stay with your parents, correct?”

“Correct.” You answer.

“You want us to gather your things and come back here, correct?”

“Correct.”

“Alright. That’s good enough for now. We’ll worry about when you’ll move into Thatch’s apartment tomorrow.” He says. “But now I know what lines to hold your parents to while we’re there.”

Edward Newgate stands up and you’re reminded of how large he is. Wider across than Thatch and a little taller, his physical dimensions were nothing compared to his presence. This was a man who could shoulder the world with one arm as far as you were concerned.

“Wake Marco. No pleasantries for this trip, my sons, we’ll get this unpleasant business handled quickly.”

#x reader #reader insert #thatch one piece #modern au #Hey Doll #mdni

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scalpel-mom-mori · 2 years

Text

An essay on pronouns, translation, and a little bit of culture.

@electrick-indigo [bruh y's it not letting me tag u]

Before I get flamed for being transphobic or whatever, I'm nonbinary. And Chinese. And a CN to EN fantranslator that's learning a little JP on the side.

Awesome now that we've got the disclaimer out of the way let's get into the good stuff.

Respecting pronouns is all and well in English. In English, we have female- and male-specific pronouns (she/he respectively), a commonplace gender-neutral pronoun (they/them depending on the grammatical need) and neopronouns which I will not get into because I'm not that well-versed in them.

When it comes to translating, a direct/literal translation is usually not sufficient when translating a nuanced text.

For example:

Connection made 4:

You’re looking well today, Commandant.

(Lit: "Today your coloring looks alright”)

[From my translation of Chrome Glory's voice lines]

In this line, I changed the wording altogether in order to express the same idea. This is what we call localization, as opposed to translation. It's the adaptation of a text in order to be more easily understood by a foreign audience.

Another common example is "have you eaten" as a common greeting in Asian cultures (others, I can't speak for). Often times, a friend or relative will greet you with 吃了嗎? （Lit: have you eaten?) instead of "hello" or "how are you," but the meaning is still the same, an inimate greeting.

Now on to the pronouns section.

He/she/they + neos are all and well in English and similar languages, but that's because of the way they're used. In English, "he" is generally a male-specific or masculine pronoun, "she" is a female-specific or feminine pronoun, and "they" is completely gender neutral with no leanings one way or another. This is also where it gets messy in Chinese (and Japanese to an extent, but much less so for reasons I'll explain in a moment).

Chinese has female-specific, object-specific, and technically masculine pronouns (她，它，and 他 respectively). All three are pronounced the same, and are grammatically interchangeable. However, I would make the argument that the "masculine" pronoun is funcitionally gender-neutral, since in Chinese there are only female- and object-specific pronouns. In RPGs, for example, the "masculine" 他 will be used, but it will be translated as "they" for inclusivity so as not to estrange their non-male playerbase. In Chinese, to refer to a group of people, you add the character 們 to a pronoun.

Thus, a group of women would be 她們, a group of inanimate objects would be 它們, and a group of men or a group of people that includes muliple genders would be 他們, which brings me to websites like pronouns.page.

The concept is brilliant and wonderful, and very, very limited to languages that operate like English where there is not a general pronoun like the Chinese masculine pronoun.

Okay that's about it for the actual informative stuff, now on to my final note about Japanese/Chinese. The way a language works is also deeply rooted in culture.

Moreso in Japanese than in Chinese, but it's considered proper to refer to a person by their name and the appropriate honorific or title than by a pronoun like he/she/they/you.

In Japanese, in fact, it can be considered very rude to call someone by あなた, despite how it translates directly to "you." あなたさん is used in advertising, since the speaker is not addressing a particular person, instead addressing the viewer directly, where no name is known or specified, and therefore あなたさん is appropriate and acceptable. However, this is often overlooked in things like anime subtitles and manga translations in order to retain the attention of a Western audience for whom these terms of address hold no weight. The retention of the convention of calling someone by name and an honorific often can eject and even lose the attention of a reader that is unused to it.

In conclusion: The pronoun debate is further complicated by trying to bring it internationally without sufficient understanding of the culture and therefore the language you're trying to translate to. A direct translation can get the idea across, but when translating, one must take into account the cultural basis behind the way a language operates before trying to express an idea, especially one with as much nuance as gender identity.

#ask to tag lmao #i'm an amateur #reyni <3

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babyybitchhh · 3 years

Text

Shigaraki x Reader 18+

Title: Crybaby

Rating: Explicit/R-18+

Words: 12,290

Warnings: I'll be honest and say I'm not entirely sure how to tag some of this so proceed with caution. Infantilization, forced age regression, mental age regression, non consensual regression, ageplay, mentions of baby bottles and pacifiers, coercion, general noncon and dubcon, diddling, vaginal fingering, involuntary urination, wetting, mention of forced third party bathing, diapers, penis in vagina sex, unprotected sex, creampie, excessive use of 'Tomu-nii', mention of sex slaves, a brief but explicitly violent death mention towards the start, overall very questionable decisions from both me and Shigaraki

A/N: I will not be taking any questions at this time, thank you.

( @tomurasprincess)

♥♥♥♥

There was a fine line between a gift and a burden.

A new video game, for example, is something people were generally happy to receive and there was no obligation to slave over it at all hours of the day, unless you wanted to. A puppy, on the other hand, came with a certain amount of responsibility that couldn’t be side lined until Tomura decided to deal with it. There was no save button, no coming back to it later. He had to be vigilant to some degree, mindful of the life that was now in his hands, and that wasn’t something he was accustomed to by any stretch of the imagination. He couldn’t stand it. Didn’t even really possess the vernacular needed to describe exactly how much it pissed him off that he was suddenly expected to take care of someone - something else.

It was bullshit.

Standing over your prone form sprawled out on the cluttered floor he thinks, not for the first time, about ending it right here and now. It would be easy, surely. One touch of his hand and you’d be gone. Disintegrated to mere dust and nothing more than a vague, unpleasant memory in the back of his mind. You deserved it by simple virtue of being such a damn inconvenience but, just as every other time, he hesitates.

Not because you don’t even realize the danger you’re in as you innocently kick your legs back and forth in the air, all your wide eyed, dopey attention locked on the tv screen. Tomura is not so soft as to consider a sneak attack you don’t even see coming an insult to his pride. He would’ve been showing you mercy, actually, because if he didn’t fear upsetting All for One so much he’d have preferred to wrap his hands around your scrawny little neck instead. Give you a good throttle or two. Squeeze until his knuckles were a stark white against your purpling blue skin. He could almost envision what you would look like, all bloated and full of blood from burst capillaries and reddened eyes rolling into the back of your skull.

His cock stirs in his pants and his hatred for you grows with it. He couldn’t stand you or what you represented, a sudden addition to his life that he never asked for but couldn’t get rid of, and the fact he was getting stiff from his morbid fantasies was certainly your fault too. Everything was your fault. Right down to the most minor of inconveniences, you were to blame - even if it happened before you were dropped into his lap with all the to-do of a posh, overly indulgent birthday present. It was you. You, you, you, you you you youyouyouyouyou -

“Tomu-nii?”

With a jolt, he snaps out of it. The haze lifts and his blown out eyes focus in on your tubby little face, now turned over your shoulder to glance back at him. Tomura isn’t sure when you realized he was looming over you like some horrible, sickly wraith and he knows even less how it is that you show no fear towards him. Were you really so stupid that you couldn’t sense his desire to not only kill you but make you suffer? So blind that you didn’t see the way his bony hands fisted at his sides with a purpose and not in idle reflex?

No. It wasn’t that you were as unintelligent as a brain dead sheep happily trotting off to slaughter. Rather, it’s because that was what All for One had designed you to be.

Tomura wouldn’t claim to understand how, exactly, his mentor had gotten these results but he knows enough to recognize the signs. You’d been stripped of everything in a way that far exceeded mere surface level nudity. All for One had gone even deeper than that, past flesh and bone and right into the heart of what made you you. The brain.

He had no doubt that a quirk had been used, the specifics of which he couldn’t even begin to fathom, but the tinkering and rewiring had done its job exceedingly well, in fact. While your body was that of a young adult woman, early to mid 20’s if he had to wager a guess, your mind was something like that of a toddlers. You could speak just fine but the enunciation was sloppy, your words childish and limited to small, easily communicable sentences. You picked up on things surprisingly fast, perhaps even a little too well if the way he’d heard you let out a soft, half hearted ‘fuck’ earlier was anything to go by. But you slipped up just as easily and he was getting real tired of making sure you went and sat on the toilet instead of pissing all over his (no doubt already smelly) carpet. Living in his own mess was one thing. Living in someone else’s was another matter entirely.

Nothing about this was in error, though. You were exactly what All for One intended for you to be - little more than an animal for him to look after but with arguably higher stakes involved - and he’d had enough. It’d only been a single day, a full 24 hours since you were dropped into his room, and he was already at the end of his patience.

“What’s wrong? Don’t like that stupid cartoon I put on for you?”

You actually had the audacity to pout at him, jutting your lower lip out and puffing your cheeks as if that was supposed to make him feel anything other than an even stronger urge to take you out of this world. “S’not that. Mm’ just bored. You’re no fun.”

Tomura very nearly lunges at you with outstretched hands, All for One be damned, but your next words stop him in his tracks.

“I thought maybe you were coming to play with me.”

Play with you? He would’ve laughed if only he could find even a sliver of real humor in this situation. This was a joke, if not because of the absurdity of it all then at least because he wanted to play with you alright. He wanted to play a game that started with you screaming in shrill terror and ended with a chilly body laid out on his bedroom floor. That sounded like more fun than a barrel of kittens.

He stills himself, though, and snobbishly peers at you down the length of his nose. “I don’t play games with brats. Sorry.”

That only makes you pout even more. “Meanie.”

“Watch your fucking cartoon,” Tomura grits out through gnashing, angry teeth, unreasonably irritated by your persistent refusal to cooperate. “Before I make you.”

He isn’t even really sure if that threat makes any sense at this point, so thrown off by your mere presence in what should’ve been his space that he can barely make heads or tails of his own thoughts anymore. But the dramatic way you squawk in displeasure and throw yourself out flat on the floor placates him somewhat. You were easy to rile up, and he would have been a boldfaced liar if he’d said he didn’t get a kick out of that. Tomura had never felt quite so cruel, so much like an adolescent bully looking to make his problems someone else’s as when he was working you up into a proper fit.

It was easily the most enjoyable aspect of this arrangement so far, and he watches with nothing short of smug satisfaction as you pound your hands on the floor in pent up frustration. It was laughably easy to picture what they’d look like, well groomed after a manicure and with a fresh coat of polish on the nails. You looked like you’d probably been the sort of woman who would go with reds. Fierce and bold, as much a statement as your pretty face, which was currently scrunched up and pressed tight against the carpet in front of his tv. Those same hands were plain and unadorned now, squeezed into tight little fists that were about as harmless as they could get. Tomura probably would’ve considered a turtle more of a pressing threat than you right now.

“Crybaby.” He spits the word out like it’s poison. “Does that make you feel better? Huh? Throwing a tantrum just because you’re not getting your way?”

“Mm’ not a crybaby!” You scream into the carpet. The contrast between your plushy figure and your behavior is disturbing on some very real, intrinsic level and that only seems to add fuel to his fire.

“Hah! That’s funny. You certainly look like one, you know that? What would you even think of yourself if you were in your right mind, I wonder.”

“Mm’ not!” Your incessant screeching rises in pitch and Tomura is almost positive you aren’t even really hearing him anymore, but he decides he doesn’t care.

“Embarrassing. Maybe I should have Kurogiri bring me a bottle since you want to act like a baby so much. Or would you like a pacifier instead? Hmm? Would that make you feel better, princess?”

“Nooooo!”

Your feet start kicking the air again, violently rather than in placid distraction, and the motion draws Tomura’s gaze to the seat of your onesie. Pink and humiliatingly infantile for a grown woman to be wearing, he’d looked at it with nothing short of contempt up until now. But the (no doubt exhausting) flex of your legs bunches the loose cotton, making it gather around your upturned ass and in turn emphasizes the convenient button flap across the back. Now that he’s actually looking at it, he’s almost positive it was wide enough to expose your entire rear to the world with little more than a quick snap of his fingers. Maybe even wide enough to expose other things too …

Tomura jolts with all the force of a sudden electric shock when you cry out his name or, rather, the ridiculous moniker you’d given him. He’d like to know who’d planted that particular seed in your head - if it was All for One’s idea of a twisted joke or if Kurogiri had really thought being called niichan by a woman who may or may not actually be older than him would make Tomura feel all warm and fuzzy inside. It doesn’t exactly matter now, though, because the wet quality of your voice makes his cock spring up in his pants. He’s mildly horrified with himself, far more comfortable with his earlier fantasies of killing you, but there’s no helping it anymore. Not when you say his name like that. Not when the tears he’d initially thought were crocodilian at best were so thick and heavy in your throat that the syllables come out garbled and almost incomprehensible.

He’s not sure what he intends to do, but he shuffles closer.

You’ve started to tire out now and the kicking slows before stopping all together. He watches your ankles cross over one another in the air, as if you were trying to self soothe on some level by physically keeping yourself together, but it doesn’t seem to do much in the way of good. Your shoulders were still trembling with the lingering traces of your fit, and he can hear you mewling into the abrasive carpet like a wounded animal. It was clear that you were hurting because of him - and not just as a result of his teasing. After the complete and utter deconstruction of your mind, you were probably scared without even really knowing why. Confused, but too lost in the quirk induced stupor that had left you in this sorry state to seek out answers.

He hadn’t bothered to test this theory yet, but Tomura would have been willing to bet good money that All for One left you with very little inside that thick skull of yours. It just made sense, after all. For what good was a doll with memories of her past life? What would he have possibly gotten out of playing house with someone who fought him every step of the way, either out of embarrassment or repulsion towards him as a person?

No. You were a blank slate in the strictest sense. His to mold however he deemed fit and with no recollection of who you were, who you’d been or even who you’d wanted to be, he was free to do whatever he damn well pleased.

There was still raging contempt for you burning within his chest, certainly. You were an annoying, unnecessary burden on him and there was no getting around the fact that he still wanted you gone. But the spark igniting his gut is even stronger and, for better or worse, it momentarily overrides his better judgement.

So he sinks down onto his knees, directly behind you, and reaches out to tentatively palm the swell of your ass. Pinky held away, so as not to disintegrate you, which surprises him somewhat given how vivid his fantasies of killing you had been. He doesn’t get to linger on that for very long though, because you grow still at his touch and your pathetic sniveling quiets to a soft, almost hopeful sniffle. Tomura bites back a crude snort, just barely managing to catch himself before he backpedals and hisses another insult at you. He could probably take what he wanted with any given method, he didn’t have to be nice about it, but somehow the alternative just felt wrong. Physically you were an adult, but with the mental state of a child it felt a bit like taking advantage of an innocent and he wasn’t a complete monster.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, the word foreign on his tongue. “I shouldn’t have been so mean. Will you forgive me?”

You squirm and push your face further into the carpet. “Mhm.”

He doesn’t smile. But he does take that as an incentive to push forward, and he starts caressing your backside with slow, cautious circles. “Do you really want me to play with you that bad?”

“Mhm.”

Hesitating, Tomura considers his next words very carefully. “Fine. I’ll play with you. But I get to choose the game.”

You don’t immediately respond and he starts to wonder if he’d made a mistake. Overestimated his ability to be diplomatic and conscientious - which wouldn’t exactly have come as a surprise. But then you shift on the floor, tension draining from your body as you turn your head so you aren’t suffocating in the carpet anymore. “Okay.”

His brows lift in surprise only to then knit together. It was that easy? He’s not so sure he trusts it but, dropping his gaze back down to your ass, he gives the doughy soft flesh an experimental squeeze. Your only response is a soft, faltering sigh that seems to help you relax more. This, too, seems a little too good to be true but he keeps going anyway.

When a few minutes of kneading your defenseless backside does nothing to upset you, Tomura starts to get bolder. He slowly brings his opposite hand forward and latches onto the other cheek with four fingers, massaging both sides in tandem. He’d had the unfortunate luck of seeing your bare ass late the previous evening, after you’d emptied your bladder all over the blanket he’d tossed you to sleep on which had resulted in an aggressively administered bath for you and a frustrated headache for him. He hadn’t paid too much attention at the time, far too angry to be horny, but he knew enough to realize that you were unexpectedly voluptuous under that onesie.

The garment itself was so oversized it hid even the smallest hint of the womanly figure underneath. He probably would’ve forgotten all about it, pushed to the back of his mind in favor of more pressing matters (like getting rid of you) but now that he’s got his hands on your butt it’s all he can think about. The way your full tits jiggled when he’d non too gently manhandled you into the tub. The frustratingly cute lower belly pouch that bulged when you sat down, crying, on the porcelain surface. The way your thighs molded to whatever position he’d yanked them in so he could hose you off like a filthy stray. He’d actively avoided looking at what was between your legs, in fear of what he’d see as much as stubborn refusal, but looking back on it now he isn’t sure how he hadn’t given in to temptation.

Now, however, he was suddenly more interested than ever in finding out what your pussy looked like and, hooking his long index fingers into the flap, he starts to unlatch it one button at a time.

You make no move to stop him. Don’t even protest or question what he’s doing. It’s almost as if just having his attention on you is enough, and Tomura’s mouth pulls back in a sneer at the mere thought. You were so damn stupid for trusting him like this, completely oblivious or uncaring about what his intentions were. He could be as violent with you as he wanted. He could erase you from this existence with the briefest touch. But you just lay there, your shoulders slowly rising and falling with each even breath you draw, and he can’t decide if that feeling clawing at the back of his throat is hatred or guilt.

But there’s no real reason to stop now, so he carefully peels back the flap of fabric once he’s got it completely unfastened. Bare skin greets him, a perfectly exposed strip of swelling flesh that seems all the more enticing with pink cotton framing it so nicely. He pauses long enough to lick his dry, cracked lips. The weight of his stiff cock strains against the inside of his zipper, twitching eagerly when he reaches out to hesitantly touch your back side again.

The sensation of a real, living person under his fingertips makes his breath come a little faster. Still, you don’t move though and he picks up right where he left off, roughly groping your ass cheeks with barely contained excitement until he gets so vigorous that you whimper.

“Shh. I’ll try not to be so rough.” Tomura shushes you, throaty and barely more than a murmur.

You settle back into place, thankfully, and he takes that chance to spread your cheeks open. He gets a brief glimpse of the puckered hole hidden inside, white hot static racing straight to his groin, and he lets out a rumbling groan. His fingers squeeze into flesh again and he pulls, baring you entirely to his voracious eyes. The tight muscle twitches, winking at him, and his attention drops to the smallest satiny peak of your slit. He can just barely see it, mostly hidden behind the pooling fabric bunched under the swell of your ass, but it’s more than enough to make him feel dizzy.

“Shit,” he sounds winded even to his own ears. “You’ve got such a nice body.”

To his surprise, you actually perk up at that. “Really?”

Tomura almost snaps at you on impulse, so irritated by the sound of your voice that he nearly forgets what he’s trying to do. Quelling himself, though, he tugs at the bottom half of your onesie until he can see the plushy soft lips of your pussy. You look so inviting, so warm and real he can hardly even stand it.

“Really.” He croaks. “How old are you again?”

You seem to think about that. “Mm, I dunno’!”

He frowns. Contemplates that for a long beat. But the coarse hair curling around your slit seems answer enough, for him at least. You weren’t actually a child. You just sounded like one, acted like one, dressed like one. That wasn’t what was getting him so painfully hard though. It was the fact you were a woman, physically, and he’d never gotten to see one up close and personal like this before. Why hadn’t All for One just given him a proper sex slave instead of one that threw tantrums and cried at the drop of a dime? Was this really what his mentor had intended for him to do with you?

“Tomu-nii?”

Drawing a sharp breath, he brings his attention up to bark at you to be quiet but the words catch when he finds you looking at him over your shoulder. He can feel his cheeks starting to warm, suddenly embarrassed.

“What?”

“Why’re you looking at me like that?”

He flounders for a moment. Then, awkwardly clearing his throat, he decides to fall back on his original excuse. “This is the game I mentioned earlier. You wanted to play, right?”

You nod your head, but you don’t look entirely certain about that. “I do but … aren’t games s’posed to be fun? This is boring!”

His mouth presses into a thin line. It hadn’t occurred to him that you might not be content to just idly sit by while he molested your slutty little body, but if it was fun you wanted then he could certainly give you that. “This was just the warm up. Roll over and I’ll show you how to play.”

The way your eyes light up almost makes him regret this decision. It’s too late though, you’re already twisting over on to your back with your elbows braced on the carpet so you can stare up at him. Stupid and expectant.

He clicks his tongue.

Reaching out to grab your wide set hips with only eight of his fingers, he inelegantly drags you closer so that you were nicely slotted between his knees. Your legs curl up as you regard him with nothing short of intense curiosity, lips parting in a silent ‘o’ that very nearly sends him over the edge. You were too pretty for your own good. Much too beautiful to be wearing a pink onesie and acting like a baby. This was such a waste, and he almost feels bad for what All for One did to you.

But he shrugs it off, forcefully, and his delicately poised hands descend on your zipper. Zrrrrrt, straight down the length of your body. It stops directly above your crotch and he reaches up to reverently push the cotton out to the sides and expose the rest of you.

Your tits were even better than he’d initially thought. They were full and heavy, dotted with the most perfect little buds for nipples. Soft and smooth. Tomura’s mouth waters in anticipation and he doesn’t realize how roughly he’s jerking your arms out of the sleeves until you wail dramatically that it hurts.

He’d like to tell you what really hurts is his cock, unbearably hard and trapped inside his pants, but he refrains. Instead, he huffs out an insincere apology and keeps on yanking. He can’t get you undressed fast enough, mesmerized by the way your breasts jiggle and bounce every time he pulls on you. There’s something inherently wrong about this, he knows. It’s so damn obvious you’re not right in the head, that you aren’t of sound enough mind to even understand what he’s doing to you, but he can’t bring himself to stop. Not when you were so willing and pliant under his shaking hands.

Finally managing to wrest the blasted onesie off your kicking feet, Tomura tosses it off to the side and he eagerly sets his sights on your naked body. You should have looked seductive and coy, spread out in front of him with a devious smile curling artfully painted lips as you invite him to have his way with you. Instead, you fitfully squirm, neither seductive nor shy. It’s clear that you have no sense of shame, your artificially infantile brain completely void of the concept and even less aware of how inappropriate any of this was. You just keep looking at him, waiting for the explanation he’d promised to give you.

Oh. That’s right. The game he kept talking about. Perhaps he could still salvage this after all.

“The rules are simple,” he says slowly, scrambling to put together a decent excuse to keep going. “I’ll touch you for a little bit and if I can make you feel good then I win. After that, it’ll be your turn. If you make me feel good, you’ll win. Understand?”

Your expression pinches in confusion. “So we both win?”

“Only if we make each other feel good. What’s wrong? You don’t want to play with me anymore?”

Much to his relief, you quickly bob your head. “I do! Please play with me, Tomu-nii!”

The way his cock jolts at that makes his entire body ache. It’s much too late to turn back now, he was well past the point of salvation, and he haltingly drags his attention down to your chest. Your petite nipples had stiffened in the cool air but it’s as if you don’t even notice. Wasn’t that something a grown woman would be conscious of? He thinks so, or at least he’s pretty sure it is. Apparently it isn’t the sort of thing a dumb baby brain even registers, though, and he reaches out to curiously flick at one.

You gasp, eyes widening slightly. Misplaced hope sears his veins and he watches you intently, holding his breath, but you don’t seem to understand what it is you’re feeling. Your brows furrow as you glance down at yourself and bring a hand up to cover your nipple.

“Oww …”

That certainly wasn’t the reaction he’d expected. Or at least it wasn’t the sort of reaction Pornhub had taught him to expect, but it was still something.

“Baby.” He grumbles, reaching for the opposite tit.

“Mm’not!”

“Are too. Didn’t that feel good?”

“No!”

“Then you’re winning, aren’t you?”

Confusion marches across your face for a moment before understanding dawns. You look quite pleased now as you track the movement of his hand as he carefully pinches your puckered nipple between thumb and forefinger, gently rolling it between the pads. He doesn’t get an immediate reaction out of you but the longer he does it the more your lips start to purse. It’s as if you were holding back, determined not to show him that you might be enjoying it and risk losing the game, but it’s enough to embolden him.

His ministrations pick up and he gives your delicate little teat a mild twist. There’s no malice or cruelty behind the action. He just wants to see what you’ll do. And you don’t disappoint, the way you jump and your mouth flies open as if to squawk making his stomach clench with something perverse. You catch yourself at the last second though, teeth clacking together as your gaze flits up at him to see if he’s looking.

He is, of course, and you forcibly swallow the sound you’d almost let out. Tomura is a bit disappointed, sure. He’d wanted to hear how pretty you’d moan for him but there were still plenty of other chances for him to coerce at least one out of you.

Hunching over your prone body, he brings his other hand up to latch onto the opposite nipple, the one he’d previously flicked. You wince at the contact but make no move to stop him, biting down on your lower lip to keep quiet as you watch him play with your fat tits in petulant silence. It was ass backwards in so many ways. He’d thought, despite everything, his first time with a girl would be somewhat normal. Maybe not picture perfect or all that good when everything was said and done, but at least relatively mundane. This was the farthest thing from that though. He couldn’t conceive of a more wildly abnormal scenario even if he’d tried, nor did he recall ever seeing any porn with this hyper specific set up. But there was still some sick, twisted part of him that was deriving pleasure from this decidedly unorthodox encounter with the opposite sex, and that feeling only grows exponentially the more he keeps going.

Kneading, pinching, squeezing, tugging. He doesn’t let up until your nipples are flushed dark and straining hard, the glistening hint of tears at the corners of your eyes telling him beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was getting somewhere. The urge to call you a crybaby swells in his chest again but he doesn’t want to risk another tantrum. He wasn’t so sure his cock could handle it, particularly not when he’d positioned himself over you in such a way that one solid kick would put him out of commission for the foreseeable future. No, this was a delicate situation that required the utmost care on his part and, gathering his nerves, he swoops down to cover one of the stiff buds with his mouth.

The heated gasp that bursts out of you in a great woosh has him groaning into the meaty swell of your tit. You shudder underneath him, involuntarily twitching as he traces your areola with the tip of his tongue and laves it in warm, wet attention. He can tell that you’re not sure what to do so he waits with bated breath, reveling in the fleshy nub pinched between his lips. There was no reason for him not to squeeze every last drop of enjoyment he could get out of this while he could, after all - but then your hands find his hair, threading into wavy locks, and he throbs for you.

“Tomu-nii …”

He practically sinks into you, damn near suffocating himself in the plushy swell of your breast. His mouth opens wide and sucks more of you past his lips, suckling enthusiastically just like the infant you were programmed to be. This particular role reversal doesn’t even seem to register in your mind though and he seethes when you tug at his hair, trying to pull him off.

“St-aaahp …. I don’t like it!”

Tomura comes up off you with a wet gasp. “Bullshit.” He practically growls, narrowing his eyes at your dopey, flustered expression.

“It’s true! I don’t!”

“Oh? Should we check then?”

Your face scrunches and you draw a breath to question him, but he doesn’t give you the chance. Going back up on his knees, he plants one hand against the meat of your inner thigh and shoves it wide. His other darts between your legs before you can react, spindly digits finding your bare cunt and prodding at your folds with rough fingertips. You jolt at the contact but it’s too late. He barely has to touch you to feel the slick oozing out of you and he lets loose a harsh bark of laughter.

“My ass. You’re fucking soaked. You shouldn’t lie, you know.”

“I didn’t!” You gasp, clearly offended by the insinuation. “You’re just a fucking meanie!”

That gives him pause.

Glancing up at your face, Tomura regards you carefully as he tries to figure out his next move. On one hand it was his own fault for saying that word around you so much and it’s not like it was any of his business what you did or didn’t say, but on the other … there was something uncomfortable about hearing that come out of your mouth with such a childish inflection. It lacked any and all bite, not even a hint of impotent aggression to be found. You were just parroting him, that’s all, but for whatever reason he didn’t really appreciate it.

“Don’t say that.” He huffs, turning his attention back to your pussy.

Tomura had wanted to leave it at that, but of course you have to fight him every step of the way.

“Why not?” You ask rather flippantly.

“Because i said so. If you want to get smart, be my guest. I know how to handle bratty little girls like you.”

He’s a bit surprised when that actually shuts you up. Apparently, he was starting to get the hang of this but he still has to sneak a quick peek at you just to make sure. The fact you actually look contemplative, as if you were turning that over in your empty head, almost makes him laugh.

“Do you still want to play?” God, he sorely hoped you did.

You hesitate though, unwilling to give your acquiescence just like that. “When is it my turn?” You ask warily.

“Soon. I’ve got one more chance to make you feel good and then you can try.”

“Mmm … okay. But I’m not gonna’ lose!”

He’s almost certain you would have already lost if you weren’t such a petulant little thing, but he keeps that to himself. Instead, he once again turns his attention to the spot between your legs. Your puffy slit was noticeably wet, the faint sheen of fluid glistening slightly in the overhead light, and he takes a moment to gently part the curls there. Just as he’d thought. Damp to the touch and only getting wetter. He really was going to have to talk to you about lying especially since, in this particular context, you were cheating. This was a far cry from his video games but that didn’t make it any less annoying.

Swallowing his reprimand for the time being, though, Tomura carefully presses two fingers into the doughy softness of your labia and spreads them apart. He can see now that you were practically drenched in slick arousal, thin threads of discharge stretching across your petal soft folds before snapping. He gulps down his nerves. You really did have the prettiest pussy he’d ever seen and the fact it was all his for the taking very nearly had him creaming in his pants right then and there. It was almost obscene how bad he wanted to fuck your tampered brains out but he didn’t want to scare you into noncompliance. He wasn’t going to fight for this if he didn’t have to.

Slowly, so as not to startle you, he brings his other hand close and prods at where he thinks your clit should be. He’d certainly seen them in enough triple X videos to have some idea of where to look, but when all you do is let out a soft sigh he knows he’s mistaken.

His teeth gnash in high strung irritation as he walks his finger lower and then higher, feeling a bit like a blind fool searching for buried treasure. There were so many fleshy ridges and folds that he couldn’t pinpoint the right spot from memory alone, so he has to take his time feeling around instead. He thinks he’s found it for a split second when you shift underneath him, but then he realizes you were simply getting fussy - no doubt bored with all his incessant pawing - and that only angers him further. It shouldn’t have been this damn hard to find!

Impatient now, Tomura roughly swipes his finger up the length of your slit and surprise washes over him when you jolt as if he’d electrocuted you. Your head comes up off the rug and you stare at him, wide eyed, but it was much too late. He’d finally gotten the reaction out of you that he’d been hoping for, and he leans into it with nothing short of devilish delight.

Knowing precisely where to look helps a great deal and it immediately occurs to him that the reason he’d struggled so much is because your clit was still hidden behind its protective hood. But he’s got the advantage now, and he ever so carefully pinches at satiny soft skin until he can ease it back and expose the sensitive little bud nestled inside. You whimper slightly as he does it, squirming awkwardly on your back as if you could instinctively sense that you might be in a bit of trouble now. It was kind of cute, if he was being totally honest.

“I don’t think I like this game …”

“You will. Trust me.”

Clearly not believing him, you start to open your mouth to complain but he stops you cold with a quick flick of his finger. Your engorged clit jostles against the indelicate contact and you blurt out such a startled sound that he actually glances up to make sure you’re okay. Unsurprisingly, you look a little more flustered now and the panic edging your expression is almost enough to make him reconsider this.

Almost, but not quite.

“What’s the matter?” He goads, dropping his gaze back down to your pussy again. “I thought you didn’t like it.”

“I … I don’t …”

“Really? I’m not sure I believe that.”

He does it again, gentler this time. Just a brief tap against the meaty little nub, but it’s enough to make you twitch and try to close your legs from him. Tomura won’t let you back out so easily though and he shifts even closer so he can wedge himself between your thighs to keep them spread. You issue a frustrated, huffy sound that he could only describe as babyish as you try to push up on your elbows, no doubt intending to scuttle away from him. He had to give you credit for being so hard headed even in this infantile state but he was far too invested to quit now.

Letting up his hold on your labia, Tomura directs his fingers lower and wedges three of them into your slit. You freeze, momentarily stunned, and he takes that split second opportunity to feel around for your entrance. It’s not hard to find. Much easier than your clit, at any rate, and he wastes no time wriggling a long digit up inside your body. The penetration is smooth, your guts such a slippery mess that it almost startles him.

You really were a liar.

He suddenly realizes he’s panting. At the same time, he realizes that you don’t appear to be breathing at all. Your expression is about as dumbfounded as it could be, and he dully watches the way you sway in your half upright position. Shellshocked would probably be an appropriate descriptor, and he wets his lips in anticipation.

“Well? Do you like it?”

Your legs flex around his arms and you shake your head. “Nuh … no …”

“If you don’t stop lying to me,” he grumbles. “I’m going to get mad.”

You stiffen, clearly drawing yourself up to challenge that statement just like he’d known you would. It was embarrassing how predictable you could be.

He’s had just about enough of this back and forth though, and he roughly curls his finger upward in search of the spot that would finally shut you up for good. But his efforts only make you more fussy and his patience quickly unravels when you try to twist away from him, wailing in displeasure. He hated that sound and, if you weren’t careful, he’d go right back to hating you too

Grunting, Tomura abandons your clit in favor of latching his hand onto the swell of your thigh and he digs his blunt nails in to keep you still. You actually have the audacity to kick out at him but he puts a stop to that quickly enough by shoving a second finger into your sticky cunt. Just like the first time, it makes you hesitate and he watches your warbling mouth drop open in what he thinks might be pleasure. It’s frustratingly hard to tell with you but, having no other choice, he decides to take it at face value.

Your pussy clicks loudly when he starts pumping into you straight down to the knuckle, the wet squelch almost deafening in his ears. It’s unreasonably hot though, his mind running a mile a minute as he tries to commit every little detail to memory. The way your face screws up with a stuttering gasp, the way you squeeze your eyes shut and try to brace against the pressure of his digits driving into you again and again. The way you moan, even when you try not to, is particularly enticing, especially since it’s just as pretty as he’d hoped it would be. The way your legs shake and you threaten to double over, the way he can see you clutching the carpet in a death grip, the way you just seem to get even wetter for him. There was too much to take in all at once but it was also far too erotic to look away from. He really was going to cream his pants at this rate.

Somehow, your honest reaction appears to make up for all the trouble you’d given him up until now and Tomura can feel the wet spot bleeding through his boxer briefs start to grow. He was positive he’d never been harder in all his life. Animalistic and practically slobbering like a rabid dog, he hunches further over your quaking body and pistons into your cunt so vigorously his arm starts to ache. You were wailing for him to stop, crying out for Tomu-nii, Tomu-nii, Tomu-nii, but he doesn’t even slow down. He can’t.

Your cunt just keeps sucking him in deeper on every plunge, gummy walls pulsating around his no doubt pruning fingers so enthusiastically that he’s sure you’re going to cum. He can practically taste it. Tomura wasn't going to stop until you did and, realizing he doesn’t have to hold onto you any longer, he reaches out to roughly shove you down on your back again.

“Are you going to cream for me, princess? Huh?” He grits out through savagely bared teeth. “Is that what you’re going to do?”

“No! Please, Tomu-nii … it hurts!”

Even in the heat of the moment he can’t stop himself from clicking his tongue in irritation. “No it doesn’t, you big baby. You love this. I know you do. I can see it written all over your stupid, pretty face. Go on. Tell me exactly how good you feel. Do it!”

Wailing, you peer up at him through heavy lashes with a look so imploring it very nearly gives him pause. “I - I can’t! I’m … Tomu-nii, I’m gonna’ … I’m gonna’ pee!”

“No you aren’t. That just means your clo - -“

Tomura cuts himself off when you do exactly that. He’s almost too stunned to react and all he can do is watch as the steady stream of urine bursts out of you before dribbling down his wrist to soak into the carpet underneath. It’s only now, when you’re pissing all over yourself as well as him, that he finally has the decency to slow his pumping to a staggered halt. For a fleeting moment he actually considers the notion of keeping at it. There wasn’t much else you could do to ruin this for him, after all, but one look at your expression immediately quashes that idea.

He’d be lucky if all he could manage was to stop you from dissolving into ugly, heaving sobs, let alone worry about getting himself off. Dammit. You really were nothing but a pain in his ass.

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” He deadpans, slowly withdrawing his fingers from your cunt now that he was thoroughly coated in warm, smelly piss. “To be honest I was kind of tired of that rug anyway. And these clothes, too.”

You hiccup so sadly that what little bit of anger had sparked inside him immediately dies out. He couldn’t even be mad at you for this no matter how much he may have wanted to blame you for everything. You’d tried to warn him.

“T- Tomu-nii … mm’sorry …”

Tomura sighs through his nose, hard enough to make the split end tips of his hair shift. “Don't be. That was my fault. Just - let me find something to clean us up with.”

“Do I have to take another bath?” You ask so meekly he almost misses it.

Pausing halfway through the motion of rising to his feet, he glances down at you again. It occurs to him quickly enough that it wasn’t the accident you were so upset about but, rather, the looming possibility of another aggressively meted out trip to the bathroom. Interesting. He’d almost think he was mistaken, it had only happened once, after all, but the way your lower lip wobbles tells him everything he needs to know. Apparently you were more scared of him than you’d let on.

“No, not right now. I think I can get you clean enough with a wet rag or something. You’ll have to take one later but,” Tomura scoffs, hating that he was actually trying to be nice after you’d peed all over him. “I’ll try not to be so rough next time. You just made me mad last night, that’s all.”

You nod slowly, looking like you don’t quite believe that, but still too naively trusting to press the matter. “Okay.”

Nodding once, Tomura climbs to his feet. The inner seam of his pants from the knee down is absolutely soaked and he makes it only three steps before deciding he didn’t like them all that much to begin with. Dropping his hand to the rough denim, he brushes all five fingers across the thigh and they dissolve into nothing without a second thought to the matter. He can faintly hear you ooohing behind him but there were much more important things to worry about than how easily impressed you were.

His half flagged cock throbs hopefully inside his boxer briefs and he reaches down to delicately adjust himself. God, he’d be aching for the next week thanks to your uncontrollable bladder.

An idea pops into his head with that thought. You weren’t the only thing he’d been saddled with yesterday, and he turns to regard the thick gym bag he’d previously thrown against the far wall in anger. It’s where he’d gotten your pink onesie after you’d similarly soiled the first pair of clothes you’d been wearing. He hadn’t bothered to look through all of its contents just yet, but he felt relatively confident he’d find what he wanted in there.

Circling back around, Tomura squats in front of the bag and yanks it open. He can feel your eyes watching him from your spot on the floor but he pays it no mind. Digging inside, he pulls out a few more articles of clothing, far too cutesy for his tastes, and then a book on child care that he knows for certain was put there in jest. Over his shoulder it gets chucked, and he digs deeper. Down at the very bottom he finds exactly what he’d been looking for.

But in addition to the baby wipes there are two other items that catch his attention. He outright balks at the very notion - however, realistically speaking, it could very well be the answer to his problems. At least the most pressing one, anyway.

The idea that All for One knew he’d likely run into this issue but still decided to dump you on him anyway bothers Tomura a great deal and he frowns even as he looks over the packaging. Diapers and pull ups. What was the difference? He’s not so sure there is one, and he feels almost certain that they serve the same purpose. But further inspection proves him wrong. One was for a total lack of control and the other was for the potty training stage, so not as thick or absorbent. That’s what the packing said but, at any rate, they definitely weren't the plain adult brands he was looking at here.

These were bright and colorful, and he can’t help but cringe at the thought of putting you in either of them. But he was still left with a very real concern that he simply couldn’t overlook. The fact he even had to make this decision at all was ridiculous but he couldn’t very well have you pissing on every available surface in his room. And given your track record of absolutely drenching whatever you happened to be sitting on at the time …

Hesitantly, Tomura takes out the diapers and shuffles towards his unkempt bed. The print on the back wasn't particularly clear about what to do with them. He’d probably have to look up a tutorial later, when he wasn’t feeling quite so downtrodden and his balls weren’t aching, though that would certainly put him on a few watch lists. Not that it really mattered.

He sighs and tosses the package on top of his sheets before tearing into the baby wipes. Taking his time, he methodically scrubs his wrist and his legs clean while he contemplates his next move. It wasn’t going to be pretty. It certainly wasn’t going to be sexy. It was still probably the lesser of two evils, though. Far be it that he wanted to go this route but did he really even have any other choice at this point?

“Tomu-nii …”

Your soft whining draws him back to reality and, abruptly realizing you’ve been sitting in your own piss this entire time, he turns to look back at you. For a split second, he seriously considers just killing you right then and there. It would save him a lot of trouble and you wouldn’t even realize what was coming. You were so stupid you’d probably think he was going in for a hug or something asinine like that. He’d be doing you a favor, really, because as far as he was concerned, death was certainly preferable to wearing diapers but … the urge fizzles out almost as quickly as it had appeared. He wasn’t going to let you slip out of his hold until after he’d gotten to bury himself in that tight, pretty little pussy of yours.

Decision made, Tomura makes his way over to the carpet again. You look cold, which doesn’t exactly come as a surprise, and he bends down to grab the meat of your upper arms so he can drag you up to your feet. “Come on. I think I’ve got a solution.”

Your brows furrow slightly. “Salution?”

“Close enough.”

Steering you over to the bed, he makes you bend over the mattress so he can take a baby wipe to the backs of your thighs and ass. Luckily, depending on how you looked at it, the urine had run down rather than going every which direction so it was pretty easy to clean up. The way you tremble and shift your weight back and forth makes it a bit more difficult than it needed to be but he manages, somehow.

Tomura straightens after a long moment, finally deeming the back of you good to go. He’s not so sure he can get through this next part when you were fidgeting so much, though, and he briefly considers the clothes in the gym bag. The thought of putting you in another girly, saccharine sweet garment repulses him almost as much as the thought of putting you in a diaper. But he was going to have to pick and choose his battles here and, reaching back, he delicately tugs off his t-shirt.

“Turn around.”

You slowly comply, teeth chattering the whole time.

“Arms up.”

At this, you hesitate. But at his expectantly bland look, you do as you're told and raise your arms up in the air. The lift of your heavy tits almost successfully distracts him and it is with a great deal of self control on his part that he pulls his shirt down over your head, yanking it a little too forcefully into place.

“There.” He practically hisses, watching you clumsily work your arms through the sleeves. “Is that better?”

You think about that for a moment, eyes scanning across the front of his shirt, and he briefly wonders if you’re going to say something derisive about the worn video game logo stretched across your chest. But then you smile, nodding your head a little too enthusiastically.

“Mm! It smells like Tomu-nii!”

He really couldn’t stand you.

“Good. In return, I’ll need you to cooperate with me here. I’ve never done this before, you know?”

You blink at him quizzically. “Done what?”

Tomura rolls his eyes, feeling grumpier by the second. He couldn’t wait to get this over with and have you situated so he could run off to the bathroom for what probably wouldn’t even amount to five minutes of desperate jerking. “Never mind. Just do what I tell you, okay?”

You nod your head again, but he has some very real doubts about that. Even when you were pretending to go along with whatever it was he wanted you still found some way to fuck everything up for him. If this scheme somehow backfired because your brain was so scrambled you couldn’t even follow simple directions, he was not going to be happy.

Mentally bracing himself for the worst possible outcome, he reaches for the diapers. He rips the bag open almost violently and pulls one out, but it feels even more wrong in his hands than he’d thought it would. A strange sense of scandalized affront warms his chest, making him reconsider this choice for the upteenth time. If Tomura was being completely honest, he felt embarrassed for you but a quick glance in your direction proves that you don’t share quite the same sentiment. You really couldn’t have cared less, huh?

Right. Baby brain.

He grumbles under his breath as he non too gently snaps the diaper open with a loud crinkle of plastic and lays it out close to the edge of his bed. Motioning you closer, Tomura awkwardly helps you get seated on the damn thing and then instructs you to lay down. You genuinely don’t seem to have a problem with this as you recline back, just placidly peering up at him with your little fists balled in the hem of his shirt, but now that he’s gotten this far he’s not sure how to proceed.

At a loss, he takes another baby wipe out of the package and inserts himself between your bent legs. “I’m going to clean you some more, okay?” He's not sure why he’s telling you that, especially when all you do is nod your dopey head in understanding. Just buying time. That’s all he was doing.

But it gives him a chance to think and for that he’s grateful. Try as he might, he couldn’t seem to figure out what All for One’s intention with all this had been. ‘A splendid birthday present for my favorite pupil’, he’d said, as if there were any others. But what was the reason? Surely you weren’t actually supposed to be a sex slave for him. Not in this sorry state. His battered onahole did a much better job on that front and it wasn’t prone to tantrums or crying, and it certainly didn’t pee on his stuff. It also didn’t require more than a perfunctory cleaning every few months. He couldn’t very well shove you into his nightstand and forget about it until the next time he was in the mood to rut into something.

All that was true, yes, but … his onahole also wasn’t warm to the touch, and it didn’t have soft, curly hair framing its abused slit (he really should buy a new one) nor did it self lubricate. It didn’t squeeze him quite the same way your pussy had squeezed his fingers, and it didn’t even really feel like an actual vagina now that he had something to compare it to. You were soft and squishy, pliable in the way only flesh and blood could be, and although he had no way of knowing if this had been All for One’s plan or not, he was certainly self aware enough to recognize that he’d screwed up somewhere along the line.

Tomura absolutely should have turned you to dust while he still had the chance.

Licking his lips, he drags the wipe through the seam of your cunt much more slowly than he needed to. You don’t even stir on the bed, and he thinks you must be starting to doze after … all of that. He’s not quite ready to leave well enough alone yet though, and he gently presses down on the spot where he now knows your clit is hiding. Still using the moist towelette as a pretense to keep touching you like this, he circles the sensitive little bud with it and genuine surprise washes over him when you let out a soft, pleasant sigh.

He glances up at your face but you aren’t even looking at him, lashes fanned out against the apples of your cheeks. It’s hard to tell if you were actually asleep or just pretending so you could lull him into a false sense of security, yet he doesn’t particularly care one way or another. You were his so he could do whatever he wanted to you, right? Besides. You kind of owed him after pissing all over his hand like that.

Discarding the baby wipe, Tomura bends closer and carefully spreads your labia again. He could see your little hole weakly palpitating, beckoning him to pick back up where he’d left off, but he drags his gaze a bit higher instead. You were so velvety soft and smooth it bordered on insane, so much more inviting than he ever would have thought possible.

He briefly hesitates before throwing caution aside and sealing his lips around your clit, gently mouthing at it. Your plushy thighs twitch around his head as you shift on top of the mattress, letting out another breathy sound that rushes straight to his cock. It almost hurts, the way it so eagerly springs back to life after being denied something as simple as release, but he can’t find it in himself to complain. You were giving him another chance, knowingly or not, and he wasn’t the type to squander such an opportunity.

Tomura takes his time lapping at you over the next few minutes until you’re almost as wet as when he’d started. You taste heavenly even with the artificial flavor of the wipes clinging to your folds and he entertains the notion of eating you out until you cum all over his face. There’s something he wants even more than that, though, and he sighs in relief when he finally straightens up so he can fish his cock out. It was almost painfully sensitive to the touch, and he could feel it throbbing potently in his hand. He knew this probably wasn’t going to last long but he didn’t care.

Guiding himself to your waiting entrance, he slowly pushes in one fraction at a time, damn near blowing his load the second his glans disappears into your body. He holds back though, struggling to maintain his composure as he seethes through gritted teeth. You finally seemed to realize that something was going on and your pretty eyes flutter open, immediately searching out his face.

“Tomu-nii …?”

“Be quiet. I’ve got you.”

You accept that in lieu of an explanation surprisingly fast, at least by his standards, and without another word you sleepily glance down at the juncture where your bodies were connected. A slow inhale makes your chest rise, mouth falling open as if to groan. He couldn’t take it anymore.

“Fuck,” the sound rattles out of Tomura’s chest as he slides in right down to the base, toes flexing against the floor. “I’m not even gonna’ get to enjoy this.”

Brows knitting together, you let out the softest mewling sound he’s ever heard and it makes him dig his carefully poised fingers deeper into the meat of your hips. He can’t even bring himself to move, so overwhelmed by how soft and wet your guts are. It felt like you were massaging his length, involuntarily or not, as your pussy suckles at the tip like he’s almost positive your mouth would.

Softly wheezing, Tomura drops his chin to look at where the two of you were stuck together. His pelvis was so flush against yours that your pudgy cunt was molded to the front of him, squishing under the pressure, and his silvery pubes were tangled with your darker ones. He hadn’t expected such a sight to be so damn erotic and it has him twitching, fighting back the orgasm he’d gone through hell and back for.

He’s almost scared to do it but, slowly, he eases back. The way his cock gradually reappears, glistening obscenely now, very nearly sends him over the edge. He isn’t sure how he hasn’t ruptured yet, his ballsac drawn so tight and throbbing that it leaves him feeling lightheaded, but through sheer force of will alone he manages to sink back into the inviting heat of your body without spraying your insides white. His self control was tentative as best, hanging on by a mere thread, but you felt far too good to waste on a quick nut.

“Goddamn … you’re so tight, baby. So fucking tight.”

You fidget underneath him, fussily tugging at the hem of his shirt. “Mm’ not a baby …”

Your pouty little response is enough to make him bark out a clipped laugh, more breathless than amused. You could insist you weren’t a baby all you wanted but, even putting aside the cruel, infantile reprogramming of your brain, it was hard to think otherwise when you were spread out on top of a diaper. It’s stark white, cottony lining was an almost unsettling backdrop to the perfect view he had of his cock stuttering in and out of your slick cunt. Even when he was barely moving, it crinkled softly underneath you with each rocking motion of his hips and he couldn’t quite forget it was there no matter how hard he tried.

Tomura wasn’t sure what he would ultimately do with you and he knew even less why he was even entertaining this wildly absurd situation to begin with, but there was no denying that you did have some use. The clinging grip of your pussy, for starters, and if he could get that bratty mouth of yours under control he might even some day find your company bearable. He still didn’t particularly like you but it wasn’t so farfetched to think that he might be able to tolerate you, with enough effort.

Hissing through his teeth, he drags one of his hands down to spread your puffy lips apart and get a good look at the way your petal soft folds clutch to his cock. It was a mesmerizing visual in the worst possible way, especially when accompanied by the soft, wet clicking he pulls from your body. He could have watched this for hours on end but, realistically, he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer, and he gives his wrist a brief twist to bring the middle finger down on your clit.

You twitch at the contact but Tomura takes a much more gentle approach this time, sedately drawing circles around the swollen bud. He doesn’t get much in the way of a reaction for his trouble so he just keeps at it, rubbing you in tandem with his staggered thrusts. The thought of making you cum around his cock is almost disturbingly enticing, but he isn’t so sure he can accomplish that. Not when so much of his focus was devoted to simply biting back his orgasm - but then, to his throbbing surprise, you draw a faltering breath.

“Tomu-nii … feels good …”

It’s as if the air had been punched right out of him. He isn't so sure he even believes his own ears, the blood suddenly pounding inside of them making it hard to hear much of anything. He groans though, thick and heavy as he slides his other hand up across your stomach to push at the bottom of his shirt. Your grip on the soft cotton momentarily tightens, still fighting him at every turn, but you give in almost immediately and allow him to shove it over the swell of your tits.

They’re moving, jiggling ever so slightly with the push and pull of his narrow hips as they quietly slap against the backs of your thighs. Tomura heaves, practically doubling over you with another throaty moan that rises in pitch at the tail end. His palm descends on one of your breasts, squeezing hard enough that the pliable flesh bulges and spills out between four of his fingers. You just stare up at him the entire time, face pinched and flushed while your glistening eyes dreamily watch him with a far off sort of quality that he’s sure must be - has to be pleasure.

He’d never seen anything sexier in his whole life, and that thought alone is far more terrifying than he could have ever guessed it would be. There was something wrong with you, yes, by All for One’s design. But there was something even more inherently wrong with him for getting off on this so much and without the added bonus of quirk tampering to excuse his behavior. You were so sweet and unfairly innocent despite your seductive figure, the sight of you naked save his bunched up t-shirt driving him absolutely wild. It was like you belonged here, with him, in his bed. It wasn’t that he no longer wanted to kill you but that he couldn’t.

What little bit of self control he’d still been clinging to up until now shatters, and Tomura snaps his hips into your upturned ass: once, twice, three times. The sticky squelching between your bodies increases in volume, echoing inside his skull like a ricocheting bullet as he watches your face screw up at the sudden force. It doesn’t even matter though. He’s long since reached his limit and, with a wounded grunt, he slams into you one final time, lurching over your prone body.

The sound that comes out of his mouth as he shudders and violently paints your pink guts is, frankly, embarrassing. But he’s riding a high too great to care, clinging to you hard enough to make his joints ache and you whimper in discomfort. He can’t stop though. He’s cumming so hard, pulse after pulse, that it feels like his soul actually slips out of his body for a worryingly long beat before returning in fragmented pieces. The same, but also somehow different. Like he’d experienced rebirth in the warm, comforting clutch of your drenched cunt.

He wheezes as if he’d been stabbed in the chest when he finally eases his softening cock out of you some time later.

Tomura was completely spent, both physically and mentally. His wobbly legs could hardly support his weight anymore but, with a strength of mind he hadn’t even realized he possessed, he directs a shaky finger to your clit again. You squirm in response, huffing after that rough treatment, but he soothes you with hushed words and a gentle touch to the delicate little pearl he barely even needs to brush against to have you shaking for him.

“Relax. You feel good, don’t you? Let me hear those pretty sounds again, baby.”

Obstinately, you purse your lips together to deny him even that one simple request. Tomura heaves a tired sigh, wishing you weren’t such a brat, but he doesn’t let up. The gentle circles he rubs into your clit with the pad of his finger slowly brings you around though, grudgingly, and he can’t quite deny the satisfaction that sparks in his throat when your mouth warbles open to let loose the sweetest, tiny moan he’s ever heard.

“Nngh … Tomu-nii …!”

“Don't fight it. I want you to feel good too, yknow.” He pauses, tongue glancing over his dry lips. “Will you cum for me, sweetheart?”

You shake your head, eyes screwing shut, but the way your body continues to tense up seems to suggest otherwise. He could tell you were practically thrumming with it, burning from the inside out even as his milky white discharge slowly oozes down your slit to pool in the seat of the diaper. It was unexpectedly exciting to watch, disproportionately naughty given how utterly unappealing the crinkly plastic was at first glance, and he picks up the pace of his rubbing.

“I think you’re lying again. You liked how it felt when I was inside you, right? This will be even better, I promise. You’ll love it. I know you will.”

Weakly writhing on top of his bed, you crack your eyes open to peer up at him again. “T - Tomu-nii … I can’t … ahh. Ahh. Ahh! I … I’m … ahh! Tomu-niiiii!”

You suddenly jerk, tossing your head back against the sheets, and he watches in rapt fascination as you quake so hard it nearly catches him off guard. It wasn’t the seductive, rolling tremors he was used to seeing in porn videos but, rather, a full bodied spasm that had you twisting as if to get away. Your thighs try to clamp shut around his hand but he elbows them apart, refusing to let up until he’d milked your orgasm as thoroughly as you’d milked his.

And you looked so pretty, too. Caught up in mind numbing pleasure so intense he couldn’t even begin to fathom what you were feeling. Even his own earth shattering release seemed to pale in comparison to this, and it takes you much longer to start coming down from it than it did him.

Your hair is a mess by the time you’re done, matted in some places and sticking to your damp forehead in others. For a fleeting moment, Tomura can almost see the adult woman you should have been when your face goes slack in ecstasy and your flushed lips were parted to suck in as much oxygen as you could get. He imagines you were probably no stranger to pleasures of the flesh, not with that body and those looks, so the thought that he could make you feel this good was a bit like a pat on the back for him. It was probably just beginners luck, but that didn’t stop him from feeling any less proud of himself.

Slowly, he takes his hands off you and steps back. The spot between your legs was absolutely covered in fluid, your sticky, copious slick mixing with his spunk to make a truly viscous concoction that clung to your damp curls. He thinks that he should probably clean you up again and reaches for the baby wipes, but stops himself short.

The idea that crosses his mind is very likely foul, perhaps even more offensive than anything else he’d done til now, but … a quick glance at your sloppy pussy proves too great a temptation. There was something inherently erotic about making you walk around with his semen dripping out of you, even if it was only going to be absorbed by the diaper, and he shuffles close again with his heart in his throat.

Tomura hasn’t the slightest clue what he’s doing and it takes him a long moment to figure out the tape tabs on the sides. He gets frustrated halfway through the process, struggling to make sure the crinkly plastic was secure enough around your waist, but by some miracle you stay relatively still through all of his fumbling. He isn’t quite sure how he got so lucky but he doesn’t stop to question it, hawkishly focusing all of his attention on the task at hand.

At length, he straightens to admire his work. It’s not perfect by any means but he’s pretty sure the damned thing wasn’t going to fall off as soon as you stood up so there was that. The diaper itself was just as obnoxiously girly as everything else in the gym bag; a soft, lilac purple with a flowery, cartoon bunny design on them. He didn’t mind the rabbits so much, and it was certainly preferable to the onesie, but he still thought you’d look nice in something a bit cooler.

The realization that he was thinking about this in such quaint, fuzzy terms chills Tomura to the bone, and his gaze flicks to your face so he can ask what you think of them. Even if only to distract himself from his own uncomfortably perverse change of heart.

But you were already asleep. He probably should have expected as much, and he could tell you were actually snoozing this time by the shallow, even rise and fall of your chest. A strange sense of embarrassment washes over him and he reaches out to delicately take the hem of his shirt between thumb and finger so he can tug it back down into place. You only snuggle further into the mattress though, getting comfortable, and further cementing the notion that he had, indeed, fucked up.

He’d never be able to get rid of you now.

Grumbling under his breath, Tomura leans over you with one hand braced on the mattress. The other slips between your legs, unable to squeeze shut now with the bulk of the diaper between them, and ever so carefully cups his palm over your crotch. It was cool to the touch, but if he pushed down hard enough he could feel the warmth of your body bleeding through. You let out a quiet huff in response, petulant towards him even in your sleep, and he can’t quite stop himself from laughing. It was absurd. It was strange. It was strikingly, unequivocally weird, but he was almost glad he hadn’t disintegrated you or strangled you to death.

This wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind when he’d wished for a woman he could do with as he pleased and not have to worry about her running away, but … it was close enough, he supposed.

#shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki #self insert bullshit #my writing #I'll tag the series later #I don't know if I want this to show at the top of the main tags seems a bit like inviting trouble #I've wanted to write something like this for a very very long time and I just took advantage of Shigaraki's birthday to finally do it #blah #I make him cry bout' the pussy #prolly why my shit so wet #ahh 👅

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