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aloneeedra · 1 year

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About Zanab and Cole on Love is Blind Season 3

I do think that Zanab has a lot of insecurities and that those insecurities could have made Zanab take harmless words and actions from Cole and make them seem worse than they actually were. However, I think the truly interesting thing is how people react to Cole and Zanab and the way Zanab has been hated for having insecurities.

I think there has been a shift in the intentions behind the phrase “Love yourself.” What was once a bold declaration to say fuck the media, media that has been for years putting down women, their bodies, and their experiences in order to sell products and ideas, (a time Zanab would be growing up in from kid to teenager to adult, mind you), has now become a sort of backhand compliment. When people say that Zanab has insecurities and that she needs to go to therapy, people aren’t genuinely concerned for her mental health, but using those words to discredit her so whatever she feels doesn’t need to be taken seriously. They are alluding that she as a person can be overlooked. She is seen as a problem rather than a person who has problems, problems that can be solved. I think nowadays the idea of loving yourself has been used as a way to put people down. If someone shows insecurities or doesn’t love themselves (a thing that is very difficult to do), then it’s written away as an individual problem, and stated as there is something wrong with them, and not society and media and the way women are continuously being torn down. “Loving yourself” is seen like some kind of personal victory that shows that someone is worthy. It’s incredible. The phrase was supposed to build people up, tell them they have nothing to worry about, that they should look beyond all the sexism and misogyny and be content in who they are, and, most importantly, to say fuck the media and society’s expectations of their body. Now it’s used as a comment to shame others while elevating those who can love themselves, people who, usually, already fit the social mold and don’t have to fight so much against the grain to appreciate themselves.

Though I understand and believe that many of the things Cole had said to her (at least the things that were shown on the show) were taken out of hand by Zanab, I still feel like Zanab feelings should be taken seriously and that they do come from a place: the way media portrays women. The media tells women that they have to look a certain way to be loved, that they have to be skinny, and have European features. I think, for Zanab, whenever she reads an action or a word from Cole that she is hurt by, she connects it back to this idea that she won’t be loved unless she looks like what the media and the world have told her to look like or be, so obviously, to her, Cole possibly couldn’t love her, not really. The way the words 'crazy' and 'insane' are used are nothing new and have been used against so many women throughout time that I’m honestly not surprised by Zanab’s passive aggressiveness towards Cole. How else are women supposed to express how they feel when each time they do, they are told they are wrong, crazy, or insane? What else could she have said? And though her feeling hurt by certain actions and words seem to come out of left field for Cole and the audience, if she had said or tried to explain something, and when she finally does, she is denied of those feelings, making her frustrated. It eliminates an opportunity for Zanab’s to be understood or heard by anyone who hasn’t been affected by beauty standards and racism (which is why, I think, the other girls supported her and treated Cole badly, because they understood where Zanab was coming from, also growing up during similar times).

I don’t think they should have ended up together because I do think it’s difficult to be with someone who has been so hurt by internalized sexism. I think Zanab has been really damaged by the way society views and treats women. In fact, I think all the women on this show have been. It’s interesting. Usually, the media only covers famous people, people who have always been in the spotlight and the top percent who fit into the mold. But this show showcases real people living in the world who have consumed this media rather than been a part of it. I think these women show the consequences of living in this kind of society. And I think it would be irresponsible to call Zanab insane or crazy without acknowledging the possible hand the media and society’s exceptions have played into this, and not hold it somewhat responsible as well. Maybe that’s the price people pay for living in an individual society, where you are the only one to blame for your shortcomings. You are failing, not the structures that were put in place to help you, structures that have ultimately failed anyone who does not fit the mold.

#love is blind #season 3 #cole and Zanab #my two cents

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taketwoinink · 2 years

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4, 6, and 7!

SO! I got a lot of repeat numbers here from @thatfaecreaturee and @gemstarstarlight thank you both so so so much for sending in asks! I'm going to answer them all in one go so! Let's do this!

(this got LONG so putting in a read-more)

4. what flower would you like to be given?

Might cry if anyone gave me literally any flower actually! I looove getting flowers so much. There's just something special about it. I don't care if you bought them or hand picked them, I appreciate either. Buying me a flower means that you're willing to spend money on me to get something seemingly trivial and fleeting, but that will have an impact on my heart, something that I will remember and cherish. Picking a flower means you're willing to spend the time to find me something special and unique. Both are ridiculously sweet gestures if you ask me.

So, any flower! I have to say I'd really love a rose but I think I'd appreciate and cherish and love literally any flower I could be given ever.

6. say three nice things about yourself (three physical and three non-physical).

If I'm gonna do this, I want to do it well! After all, I know me better than anyone else, so who else could deliver a great compliment to myself than I?

Physical things! This is an interesting one because of my journey with my gender and finding myself and some days I see me and some days I don't so we're gonna start with

My smile. This is the thing I absolutely love most about myself. My entire face changes and lights up when I smile. It's like my face gets softer and more heart shaped and I look so HAPPY! And then I see myself being happy and it makes me even happier. SO I love my smile so so so much, it's so beautiful, I love it!

I also like my haaiiir! I have red hair, which is kind of rare(r) and I like that. I feel speciiiial because of it. My hair is also curly and I loooove curly hair. Sometimes it's a bit extra to take care of but some days you wake up and your hair has curled just so and you feel fabulous all day. My hair is also short which is so nice with the heat (though it is thankfully getting colder and colder by the day) and it's a unique look. I feel like I stand out and I like that. I feel like cutting it helped me claim myself and some days I wouldn't mind it long and some days I still love it short so it's interesting! But I do like my hair a lot.

Um... I like my eyes! I have blue eyes which I think is such a pretty color. They're kind of dark, they're... they're just fascinating to look at, to see them change sizes and shapes and shift. Eyes are weird and very cool! I also like my hands (oops, doing an extra). I see them allll the time, they're like always in my view. I feel like my fingers are short and knobby and strange but I kinda like that. They have personality. I'm a messy person and my hands are messy and knobby and skinny and covered in freckles and they feel like a good representation of me and who I am inside (which I must admit sometimes my face doesn't feel like it's mine. Other times it does! Life is strange)

Nooow the none physical things. Which is both easier and harder than the physical things. My body is simple, it's something I can see and define with ease. But I think I also... am special and meaningful because of who I am and not what I look like.

I love my creativity. It feels like a defining part of me. Ever since I was a tiny bean, I've been creating stories in my head. I make people and worlds and I play with them just in my imagination. I was an avid roleplayer as a child. I've always loved that aspect of creation. Of making something from nothing. So many of my creations have no substance to them, there is physically nothing there, it's merely a form in my mind. Which sometimes when I think about it, I feel shocked at how 'little' I've created, because there is SO MUCH in my head and just not a lot out in the world. But I do think I come up with fun ideas and I really enjoy it. I can get lost in my head for hours just coming up with... different ideas. And I've been learning ways to take that and put it out in the world through mostly art and writing but also even things like bracelet making can take little bits of me and my stories and put them out in a physical form.

I also love my ability to connect with people. I think I'm a personable person. I'm... a lot. I'm an intense person. I love deeply, I hurt deeply, I throw myself into things fully for better or for worse. (which means I also get burnt out easily *cri*) But I think... I think I'm a likeable person and I make friends and I love meeting people. I love finding those people who you just share a spark with. You're existing in the same color and wave of existence and you can just click that way. And you won't click with everyone but the people you do... they're just special. And you hang onto them and you pour everything you have into them and you do what you can for them. I think I have a great capacity to love (not romantically, just generally) and I hope I do a good job at showing that. But I definitely care and.. I like that. I like my intensity, I like how I commit to relationships. If you're my friend, that's a title I give to people because I care about them, I love them, and I want to keep them in my life forever. I want them to be happy and I'll do what I can to ensure that they are.

Lastly... I guess my spirituality? I don't talk about it that much or what exactly I belief in but religion is a big part of my life. I was raised in a very religious family in a very religious culture and it's definitely impacted me. Over time, I feel as if my beliefs have gotten more personal, more unique to me, more close to my heart. I've been... recently exploring what spirituality means to me and how I want to... I guess worship and connect with the God that I believe in. Organized religion? Gotta say it hasn't done it for me. But I definitely do feel a connection with my God and I'm grateful for that. It's helped me a lot in my life.

I also just love that I'm a dramatic, loving, goofy, out of the box, all over the place person! I'm unique, I'm wild, I'm full of life and love and joy and stuff to give and I like that!

7. what color brings you peace?

PURPLE! Purple is my favorite color BY FAR! Every time I see something purple it's like little sparkles of happiness in my brain. I love it, I'll always lean towards it, it's just so special to me and makes me so happy. I don't know why purple or what about it, but it's like central to me as a being at this point that purple is my favorite color. It has been since i was very small and I see it easily being my favorite color for the rest of my life. I see myself and I see purple. I love purple things more than I can explain. They just make me happy. So they definitely bring me peace.

9. what calms you down?

Purrshia, my cat. She's... very soft, very loving, purrs a lot. She means so so so much to me that it's almost ridiculous and even just seeing her can make me feel better. She's one of moment important things in my life. In some ways she IS the most important thing in my life. It's not like my entire life revolves around but... when I feel as if I've had nothing, I've always had her. She grounds me, she calms me, she helps me so much more than she or anyone else could ever understand. I love that cat more than I love myself so...

Also music. I'm listening to music most of the time. It's very grounding and relaxing for me. It gives me energy which I am always low on. It helps block out little sounds that are triggering or agitating to me. It's like a safety bubble between me and the rest of the world.

Also my stuffed animals. I'm not afraid to admit it. Just holding one, having one close, hugging one, instantly gives me some peace and calmness. I definitely use them when I'm sad or anxious and they help a lot.

Also my spell jar that I made! It's vanilla scented, not too strong but strong enough that I can smell it. I like to sniff it a lot throughout the day. I'm often wearing it. I like the smell and it just reminds me to be calm, that i'm okay, that I have this little piece of magiicccc to help me out. And one of the things I made it for was to give me more peace in my life so I think it does help a bit with that. I always need more peace but hey I'll take those little droplets!

Um... blankets, jackets... sometimes having something soft and warm around me makes me feel more capable of doing things or of continuing to exist or help feel like they're sheltering me and keeping me safe and... yeah I just, am a huge blanket and jacket person. I also have this shawl that's really big and comfortable and warm and I love it so much. It just encases all of me and I basically disappear into it and I love that. It's too hot still to wear it but soooooon!

Anyway! That's all of the asks! Thanks for sending them and I hope this answer wasn't too long for you, oops! I had a lot of fun answering these and getting to reflect on myself a bit.

(feel free to ask more!)

#answered asks #The Ink Answers #gemstarstarlight #thatfaecreaturee #personal #gonna tag it as that since I got way into myself and my life

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oceanblueeyesoul · 1 year

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Hey! I heard you were doing Wednesday matchups so here's mine. Thank you <3

Physical Appearance:I'm 5'9 (175 cm) which is quite tall for a girl. I have brown eyes and brown, type 1b, hair. My body is quite skinny. I have a v-shaped face,a button nose,soft cheeks.

Personality : I'm an INFJ. My hogwarts house is Hufflepuff. People say I'm introverted but I'd consider myself to be an ambivert. I'm that girl that is always on top of all her classes, the one who always has her head in books. I act really confident eventhough I'm quite shy but you gotta fake it till you make it. I'm a huugeeee caffeine addict, I love it in all shapes and forms especially coffee. I'm literally so afraid of all animals. My love language is physical touch and gift giving though I really like it when people affirm me cause I get jealous and insecure really quickly :( but I'm also independent

Hobbies:I really enjoy reading and listening to music. My favourite artists are The Neighbourhood,Taylor Swift, Lana Del Ray, Wilbur Soot and Lovejoy. I love going to museums because I love appreciating the beauty of art eventhough I can't do art. I love baking, my favourite things to bake are cookies and cupcakes. I love making coffee always discovering new recipes. I love studying and I'm not embarrassed about it or anything.

Aesthetic: I don't have a specific aesthetic but I'd say it's a mix of chaotic academia and downtown girl.

Likes: reading,listening to music, picnics,going on bookstore dates,baking,studying,compliments,museums

Dislikes: When people ask my questions regarding my height(eg. Do you play basketball?), rude ppl, not being able do what I like, people saying I'm selfish because I prioritize myself, people making comments about my eating habits.

Anyways that's it and thank you for reading it.

Hi there, sweetie! I really hope you like this a lot!

Wednesday (Netflix) Matchup

Your Wednesday (Netflix) soulmate is...

ENID SINCLAIR!!

She would definitely be giving you so many compliments a lot because it makes you feel better about yourself a lot.

She would definitely be taking you to the museums a lot about the art because she knows that you love to take a look at the art a lot.

The two of you would be having picnic dates a lot and plus, the two of you would love to listen to Taylor Swift songs when you guys are falling asleep next to each other.

ESFP x INFJ soulmates!

Hufflepuff x Hufflepuff lovebirds!

#oceanblueeyesoul #matchups #wednesday netflix #wednesday netflix matchups #enid sinclair x reader #enid sinclair

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a-shared-experience · 4 months

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I really needed this today. I’ve been struggling with this silly thing called authenticity, that’s right, even when you find it , sometimes it plays hide and seek.

At work I feel unsure of how to talk to my peers in ways which won’t come off as a power struggle. I just don’t want to be that person or make people feel that way , not until I really have to. I’m bossy naturally , I’ve always been a leader. I was the kid that ditched my parents no problem and marched right up to people and asked to be friends. I guess I’m struggling with empowering my bravery and not coming off as “ my way or the highway”

Honestly my way makes a lot of sense to me and I spend a lot of time overthinking it. I’m invested.

I just wanted to let loose last night and forget about the humanitarian efforts I dedicate my life to just for a moment so I could feel like I still belong in my life.

I work really hard , that I know for sure, sometimes I forget that it’s ok to have fun. Sometimes this commitment to community can be demanding for an introvert. Even the security guards at reception hugged me last night and talked about the inner city crisis. I smile big, I enjoy them and appreciate them and wish them well before leaving for the day. I am a lot of things for many different people but there’s not a lot of space for me to be on the receiving end.

I don’t want to complain because I feel really blessed and grateful for my life but also still struggle to maintain it. I don’t know if that’s trauma, adhd, fear or just regular every day stuff. No one really teaches you that. I feel guilty for wanting pleasure, I gaslight myself for wanting love and call it codependency to make myself feel less alone- I know in my soul it’s not.

Lately I’ve been saying yes to social invites and working full time , ten hour days in crisis and slivers of time throughout the evenings to try and make art. I think I’m too hard on myself literally all the time.

It catches up to me though. My body is ten seconds away from disintegrating into dust. All I’ve consumed today Is a coffee and banana and I just keep thinking about the stupid number on the scale at my friends house. She was telling me to just take ozempic like everyone else and get skinny and I don’t want to.

I admitted in drug vulnerability that I feel uncomfortable with my body and just haven’t been inspired to find clothes. The number on the scale was rude but in all fairness without down time I don’t have time to make lunches and end up eating out . It’s just upsetting considering I’ve had an eating disorder and body dysmorphia my whole life. Abuse does that to little girls. Sometimes it’s not even severe like that.. I think I just always disappointed my mom because I wasn’t skinny or girly. I’m the daughter who once met her at the airport in a smoke meth, hail Satan tank top, the girl who shaved her head in highschool, who paid some hippie to make me phat pants in my rave days and now just live in outreach clothes - jeans and a hoodie. Maybe I’m just dramatic- trying to explain to other women that i hate my body and they can’t compliment that self belief off of me, telling them im certain that i can’t shop for clothes in Ardenez with them because im 40 and that my body shape doesn’t fit most plus size stuff either because im small chested and have no hips or ass.

I hate being noticed , but I also hate feeling this way.

Then I start criticizing myself for misbehaving , for getting home at a ridiculous walk of shame hour, for being sleep deprived, mashed out and wide awake, lazy. It’s literally one day off before working again tomorrow with a new RN.

I want to be kinder to myself and not believe that I’m unworthy of love because my meth clothes don’t fit right now, or that I needed even better finances and to buy a tv to entertain stupid men that will probably bore my soul into a withering melancholy. Lol

Life is hard even though it’s good -

Does anyone else feel that way?

This little rumi card reminds my Virgo moon to chill. I can forever be a work in progress and be lovable and playful regardless of my accomplishments or achieved perfection.

I’m just girl

A neurodivergent girl who swears alot and ruminates

By candlelight of course

If I reincarnate I want to come back as a bird who eats seeds and sings songs to the tune of don’t worry be happy or bob marleys three little birds.

Don’t mind me - I’m with the shadows

I’ve never been a fan of chill pills 💊

youtube

#Youtube

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dabisdealer · 2 years

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Dabi x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Word count: ~300

Warnings: mention of abuse and murder

There wasn’t anyone in this world who Dabi hated more than himself except for Endeavor.

He can´t stand the way he looks, those ugly scars of his really do ruin everything, there was no way anyone could possibly think he was attractive not that he actually cares, of course he doesn’t care, why would he care about that?. Dabi thinks he´s a bit too skinny too, and he doesn’t even want to get started on how weak his body is. It can´t even handle it´s own quirk, how humiliating is that?

And even if someone was able to look past his physical unattractiveness, there was no way they could handle the damage that Dabi comes with, caused by many years of abuse. He´s an asshole, an emotionally unavailable asshole who only takes but never gives.

How could anyone stand him, let alone love him, if he couldn’t even stand himself?

That’s the way Dabi used to think of himself, but that was before he met you.

Ever since you came into his life, living has become a bit more bearable. The way you fuss over him when he comes home with new injuries, the way you kiss his scars while you tell him he´s the most beautiful man to ever exists, the way you look at him with this genuine admiration in your eyes, all of it makes Dabi feel…appreciated and loved. It´s a feeling he never thought he would get to experience.

He tries to give back the love that you give him, but it‘s very difficult for him to show love in a traditional way. It´s hard for him to initiate all that lovey dovey stuff like cuddling the same way you do.

So he shows his appreciation for you by doing small things, like burning a guy to death because he catcalled you, or stealing the expensive jewelry you’ve been eying lately. You know, the little things.

Dabi isn’t the amazing lover that showers you in compliments every day like you deserve. He isn’t the type of guy who tells you how much you mean to him every day. No, he´s not that type of guy.

But he tries, because for you he wants to be. And that’s enough for you.

#dabi x reader #soft dabi #dabi fluff #dabi x you #dabi imagine #bnha x reader #touya x reader #touya todoroki #mha imagines #mha dabi #dabi x y/n #dabi fanfic

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cloudystevie · 3 years

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maybe you can make this a fic? but you don’t have to. OKAY BUT LIKE JUST IMAGINE ANDY FUCKING BARBER UNEXPECTEDLY CORNERS YOU TO THE WALL AND HE TILTS YOUR CHIN UP TO MEET HIS INTENSE GAZE AND HE PRESSES TOWARD YOU AND LEANS IN SO CLOSE YOU CAN FEEL HIS HOT BREATH AND HE WHISPERS IN YOUR EAR “Do you have any idea what you do to me?” HOLY SHIT SIR PLEASE DO SO MANY UNHOLY THINGS TO ME I BEG OF YOU!!!! I GOTTA SAY THAT WAS ONE OF CHIRS’S BEST ROLES OR MAYBE THE BEST ONE SJSJSJSJSJ

˗ˏˋ 𝖎𝖓𝖓𝖔𝖈𝖊𝖓𝖈𝖊 ˎˊ˗

ღ a/n: um this has been in my inbox since august😃 this is porn and it doesn’t really make sense tbh xx

ღ warnings: age gap, not really canon andy? (jacob + laurie simply do not exist in this), language, degradation, innocence/corruption kink, fingering, brief thigh riding, brief mention of oral f receiving

it was early summertime, flowers beginning to bloom and the suns warm rays beaming down on the world with warmth

body adorned in a flowy sundress, you sat on one of your pool chairs with your cousins, drinking an ice cold bottle of diet coca cola through a metal straw, glossy lips pouted around the metal and drawing attention from the neighbourhood boys that had been invited over

but your eyes were trained on andy, your dads best friend

a man you had a crush on since you learned how to curl your own hair. but now that you were older, and he was still the most eligible bachelor in your town you decided the only way you’d get what you want was if you began playing a game of seduction

he was wearing a tight black t-shirt, one that complimented his sun tanned skin all too well, and some dark skinny jeans showcasing his impressive thighs and long legs

squirming in your seat at the mere sight of him, conversations about old family memories zoning out as you focused on him

your dad called your name from inside the kitchen and you sigh wistfully, before plopping down your bottle of soda and walking over to him, putting an extra flaunt in your step when you saw andy’s eyes trained to the light blue lace trimmed sundress ending mid thigh

you said hi to andy, giving him an appreciative look over while your dad rustled around behind the two of you, and andy gulped when you caught sight of his tightening jeans, his face flushing red as he cleared his throat and shot you a warning look.

you giggle quietly, biting your lip before asking your dad why he had called you in

“right, can you help me cut some of these up? i saw they were talking your ear off out there, thought i might save you.” your dad gave you a wink

“right thanks dad, ever the life saver.”

you laughed and moved over to grab the vegetables that were laid out on the counter and grabbed a knife, getting ready to start chopping when you heard andy’s voice behind you

“the hell are you doing wearin’ a dress like this?”

you turned around slightly startled but playing it cool nonetheless, looking at him innocently and you not missing the way his fist tightened on his beer bottle, another win

“what do you mean? don’t i look good?” you faux pouted and he growled. faster than you could comprehend he was tugging you away from the open patio doors and pushing you up against the wall

a sharp gasp left your lips at the contact, the confidence you had been channelling slowly slipping away at the hands of andy, and he seemed aware of that, smirking and hooking his thick fingers around your chin, pulling you close enough to him so his breath fanned across your face

“do you have any idea what you do to me? walking around in these little dresses and all i can think about is fucking you senseless 17 different ways.”

you whimpered, shaking your head no as you attempt to buck your hips up, to relieve some aching pressure

“you little fucking minx”

you giggled again, biting your lip at how worked up you had unknowingly made him

but your amusement was cut short when he wrapped his thick hand around your neck restricting your air supply and making your eyes go wide

“a-andy” you gulp, face draining and cheeks flooding

he chuckles, then as if it was possible, he got closer, challenging you, “what? you’re dripping like a slut aren’t you?”

he chuckles darkly at the pitiful whimper that falls from your lips, “yeah i knew you’d like that. dirty little girls like you just need to be fucked like a whore by a man twice their age.”

“a-andy p-please!” you pouted, grinding yourself down onto the thick muscle of his thigh in order to gain some friction against your aching core

“hush little girl, you wouldn’t want anyone to walk in now would you?”

the thought of one of your guests or your father walking in on you made your stomach churn- excitement or fear? you really couldn’t tell, but you shook your head no anyway

“i know what you need, don’t worry i got you.” he smirks, dipping his ring and middle finger into your panties to explore your wetness firsthand and he has a hard time stifling a groan when he makes contact with it

you whimper, hand covering your face and head falling back against the wall with a thump as his rough fingertips play your pussy expertly

humming in pleasure, he’s nipping at your neck, “fuck this is such a tight little cunt, i’m gonna have so much fun with you sweetheart.” he promises

your eyes water at how quickly his fingers catch at your clit, until your mindlessly pleading for more and he shushes you, dipping his middle finger inside your pulsing hole and the both of you hiss when his finger buries itself to the hilt inside of you, his thumb pressing tight circles on your aching button

you plead for him, plead for more and andy takes your hips rocking against his hand as a sign to add another finger

when he does you almost completely lose your mind, body no longer your own as you fucked yourself on his fingers, meeting his thrusts

he groans through clenched teeth, “that’s it, take what you need like a little slut. i bet no one else has ever played this little pussy this good huh? no one else has made you what you really are, a deserate little whore begging to be used. and lucky for you honey, i know how to take care of sluts like you.”

you whimper, biting your lip and eyes rolling into the back of your head as your orgasm begins to wash over you, your legs shaking as he thankfully props them up and abdomen contracting

your juices flow down his hand as he roughly fucks his fingers into you, thumb around your clit not stopping or slowing in any capacity, he continues to force you through your orgasm until your first one blends into your second and you’re gasping and arching your back, trying to push his fingers away yet craving the pleasure simultaneously

his cock hardens tenfold in his tight jeans at the sight of you cumming on his fingers, and he wants to know how you’ll look coming apart on his cock, or maybe his mouth? would you like the scratch of his beard between your soft thighs? maybe he’d make you ride his thigh, you seemed to enjoy doing that

your whimper snaps him out of his daydream and he hums, pleased with the mess he has reduced you to, so he lets you down gently, your legs still bucking a bit but you feel like you’re ready to be split apart when he sucks his slick covered fingers into his mouth, his eyes fluttering shut and a low groan pulling from his chest at your musky taste

slowly your mind begins to come back to reality as you remember what you had initially been called into the kitchen to do, “a-andy, we have to cut the vegetables.”

“the vegetables can wait honey, i have to get a better taste of this cunt first.”

#andy barber smut #andy barber x reader #andy barber imagines #chris evans smut #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagines #andy barber au #chris evans au

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faggo-tron-prime · 2 years

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I know what i reblog on here but I'm honestly a bit tired of only seeing fit/body builder type guys. I want to see more average guys, guys with muffin tops, guys with chunk, skinny guys and fat guys feeling themselves and flaunting what they've got. It's so monotone and boring now. And everything looks semi-professional and like products instead of art or a private moment shared. I don't dare posting stuff on Twitter cause it's so saturated and it feels like there's expectations to something that's so private and can be so personal - and this feeling is kind of seeping into nsfw tumblr content too. Especially when some of the few porn/lewd blogs that survive moderation here focusing on men are almost exclusively posting uncredited pics often taken from Twitter.

If there is focus on bodies diverging from twunks that think they're twinks with big asses, jocks, or muscle bears it's almost always some shit like feeder/gainers or diaper fetish blogs. Not berating kinks or people for having these kinks, but as someone who's been working to lose weight and accept my own body it's personally grating to only see any appreciation for similar body types to mine, or previously similar ones, are extremes exclusively showed in a fetish setting where it's also common to see degrading comments or strange warped views of what constitutes to "thicc/fat/chunky/dadbod" type bodies. Not to say that the gainers i see on here seem do an incredibly fucked up and dangerous deviation of body builder bulk season diets with the intent of getting fat as fast as possible.

I know some of my issues here are where i look, but it's also that there aren't many other places to look. And I'm not particularly enjoying that everything has to be so extreme one way or another. I'm tempted to cut the rising popularity of feeder/gainer blogs is a counter culture to the fit/lean hunk machine culture i mentioned earlier. And that social media is incapable of nuance because it's shaped by user interactions/algorithms that further push extremes in these detrimental positive feedback loops.

I'm just tired and disenfranchised with the state of things. My sense of worth and body image is mostly removed from social media engagement and trends now, but it's still affected by it. My own body type isn't wholly within my body type preferences (if i can even call it that) and that i accept and are ok with. But i keep catching myself thinking "yeah i look good, I'm a snack! Who wouldn't want me??" And then immediately brush off any compliment or advance on me. Like. "Yeah i look good, but not that good. Why do you think you want me, silly?" And i can say with confidence it is in part that there's very little popularity online for varied and "average" body types i.e a bit big, somewhat small, a little soft, a little hard - without it immediately being followed by either a "progress update: omg i can't believe i used to be so XYZ then!?" Or sort of mourning and self-begrudging selfberatement over not having achieved this feat.

I'm sad and frustrated. I'm discontent with just about the whole goddamn thing.

#kj talks #kj rants #long post #longpost #body image

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inastateofmind · 3 years

Text

one day / rafe cameron

a.n. YAY for my first fic!!! please be nice because i really do not know what i’m doing. hopefully it’s okay though. feedback is greatly appreciated. let me know what yall want to see next or if i’ve left out any warnings or anything like that!

pairing: non canon rafe cameron x fem!reader

summary: y/n tutors sarah and is pining after rafe, little does she know, rafe is pining after her too. song fic inspired by one day by tate mcrae! i do not own any lyrics used. lyrics are italicized.

word count: 2440

warnings: unrequited love induced angst, fluff, mentions of alcohol, mentions of sex if you squint, jealousy, kelce being kelce

“She stares at her ceiling once again with a hundred thoughts,

‘Maybe he knows who I am, probably not.’”

Y/N laid in her room quietly, Olivia Rodrigo’s “enough for you” playing faintly in the background while she stared at the ceiling above her. School had just started two weeks ago and her feelings for Kook King Rafe Cameron had only intensified since then. Working for the school’s student services, she had been assigned to tutor Sarah, which left Y/N seeing Rafe more often than her heart could physically handle. The two of them hadn’t talked much, only sharing a few passing comments to each other while she confided in his home with Sarah. The reality of their relationship was that the older Cameron sibling probably hardly knew her name, however that did not stop her from harboring feelings for him from afar for almost two years.

“She walks down the hall with her head down low, scared to meet his eyes

Even when she hears his voice she's swarmed with butterflies”

The halls of the Kook Academy were crowded with girls in short skirts and crop tops and boys in polos and khakis when the bell rang for lunch. Y/N stopped by her locker to switch out her textbooks for the second half of her day, keeping her head low as she weaved in between the crowd. “Dude, I just don’t get it. I basically used Grammarly for the whole thing and I still got a C?” She could make out Kelce’s voice in all the commotion due to the volume of his outburst. A giggle slipped out of her lips as she slipped past him, knowing the teachers in this school know when the students use programs like Kelce’s to write their papers. “Sorry, Y/L/N, is something funny?” The boy stepped towards her, causing her to finally lift her head and meet the eyes of everyone who was around. Y/N’s eyes were immediately drawn to Rafe’s, and then fallen to the hand that gripped around Kelce’s arm, making him step back from the shy girl in front of him, “Man, leave her alone.” Her eyes met Rafe’s again as he smiled at her, causing butterflies to swarm her insides as she turned and walked away, leaving Rafe victim to Kelce’s teasing of his “crush.”

“It’s impossible to get you off my mind, I think about a hundred thoughts and you are ninety-nine

I’ve understood that you will never be mine, and that’s fine — I’m just breaking inside”

“You look so hot, Y/N,” Sarah complimented, curling the last piece of her own hair while Y/N stared at herself in the mirror. Sarah had insisted she come to the annual bonfire, and in return had offered to help her get ready. “Rafe is going to die when he sees you tonight.” Y/N thought her heart stopped right then and there. She spun around quickly, staring at Sarah. “What?” Sarah laughed, fluffing her hair as she stood up. “Y/N/N, you can’t hide that from me. I figure out everything.” Y/N sighed and made her way towards the door, opening it for Sarah to lead the way. “For what it’s worth, I think he’s got a thing for you too.”

—

The bonfire was not Y/N’s scene, to say the least. By the time her and Sarah arrived, many people were already wasted. The number of people in the small space was enough to send Y/N into fight or flight mode, but Sarah was quick to pull her into the crowd with a drink and start dancing. Several songs passed before Y/N found Rafe, who already had his eyes on her. She blushed, suddenly feeling very self conscious. Was this crop top too cropped? Has she danced too bad it’s been embarrassing? Is it obvious she doesn’t belong here? She must’ve been lost in her thoughts for some time, because next thing she knew, Rafe’s hands were resting on her hips, bringing her back to earth. “Anyone home?” He joked, tapping her hips with his fingers. She laughed lightly, her nerves flowing through her body. Rafe leaned into her ear, his breath warm against her cold skin, “You look really good.” This small compliment mixed with the alcohol coursing through her veins gave her a new found confidence. She smiled, wrapping her arms around his neck, toying with the hair at the nape of his neck. “You don’t look too bad yourself, Cameron.” Y/N swore she saw a faint blush on the notorious bad boy’s cheeks, but she would never be too sure, because as quick as their moment started, it ended. “Rafe! Beer pong let’s go!” Topper yelled from behind Rafe, a crowd cheering at the mention of Rafe’s name. The boy sighed and rolled his eyes. Y/N placed a hand on his chest, “Go,” she smiled, “You can find me later.” Rafe smiled at her before tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ll be back.” Y/N watched as Rafe ran into the crowd chanting his name, laughing as he turned around and pretended to have Topper “crown” him as the beer pong king before beginning their game.

—

An hour had passed when Y/N had begin to feel tired of chatting up random people from school. She had consumed a few more drinks while waiting for Rafe to come find her, however he never came. She decided to take things into her own hands and find Rafe herself. Standing from the log surrounding the bonfire, she swayed slightly as she walked around the small space searching for Rafe. She didn’t see him anywhere, so she had assumed he had left on his own accord. That is, until she heard whistling from Topper and Kelce. “Okay Rafey boy!” She turned quickly to see Rafe helping a skinny blonde from their calculus class into his car. Suddenly, her shoes were the most interesting thing at the bonfire. Y/N felt stupid for ever thinking Rafe cared or was attracted to her, and she felt even more stupid for thinking he was really going to come find her. “Hey,” she turned to see Sarah smiling at her sadly. “John B’s here to take us home,” Y/N cut her off, tears pooling in her eyes. “I’m going to go back to mine actually.”

“He always walks the crowded halls and is blinded by this light

A girl who keeps her head down low and never shows her eyes”

Rafe spent most of his time at school surrounded by an entourage. However, as of recently, his main focus hasn’t been the popularity or the girls flocking his way, but more so a specific girl: Y/N. He watched her in class while she worked ahead of the teacher, he noticed how she got anxious in the crowded hallways, he loved how she opened up while she hung out with Sarah after school. He had never felt so attached to a girl before, especially one he had hardly talked to. Something about Y/N just kept drawing Rafe in, making him want to be a proper gentleman and get to know her— all the weird little things and the seemingly unimportant things too.

“He tried to talk to her but there’s no easy way

‘Cause every time he raises his voice, she runs away”

“Y/N! Hey, wait up!” Rafe yelled down the hallway, running after the girl as she beelined it to her locker. “Y/N,” She opened her locker, shoving her books into it with a sigh. “What do you want, Rafe?” His eyebrows furrowed at her tone. He didn’t understand. At the bonfire, things had been going so good. Now, he could barely get the girl to glance in his direction. “Why are you avoiding me? I thought at the bonfire…” She cut him off, slamming her locker shut. “Yeah, I thought things at the bonfire were going good too, until you left me there to go off with some girl,” She shrugged, turning and walking away before Rafe could even respond. He ran a hand through his hair out of frustration. The reality of the situation: the girl from the bonfire was truly just a friend who was far too wasted and vulnerable to get home on her own, and Rafe recognized that and offered to take her home. He couldn’t blame Y/N for thinking otherwise though, seeing as he did have quite the reputation. He glanced once more in the direction she walked off into before going to meet the younger Cameron sibling for advice.

“Oh, it’s impossible to get you off my mind

I think about a hundred thoughts and you are ninety-nine.

I’ve understood that you will never be mine and that’s fine,

I’m just breaking inside”

Rafe spent the next few afternoons in the comfort of the country club with Kelce and Topper, avoiding his home at all costs until he was sure Y/N was done tutoring Sarah. He wanted nothing more than to go home and steal the girl from his sister so they could talk things out, but he knew that would ultimately make things worse, so he kept his distance. However, the phrase “distance makes the heart grow fonder” rang true, because Y/N was the only thing on his mind. By Wednesday afternoon, he finally gave in, going straight home from school. Wednesdays for Y/N and Sarah were typically their “relaxation” day before cramming for tests on Thursday, so Rafe expected to walk into the living room to find the two of you curled up on the couch. However, the house was oddly quiet and the driveway empty. He texted Sarah, asking where they were.

“John B’s. Be back by dinner.”

John B’s?

Y/N was at John B’s?

Rafe shook his head, opening Snapchat. He looked at Sarah’s story, a picture of her, Kiara and Y/N on the HMS Pogue. He smiled at how happy she looked. The next picture was one of Sarah in John B’s lap, with Y/N in the background sporting JJ’s hat and seemingly swatting at him while he reached to take it back. Rafe’s heart dropped slightly, staring at this picture a little longer than necessary. Maybe if he would’ve stayed with her at the bonfire, that could’ve been them. Now he had basically walked the girl of his dreams into the arms of JJ Maybank.

‘Maybe it’s better this way,’ He thought.

But maybe he didn’t want better.

“One day, maybe she’ll stay and start to head over his way

And one day, she’ll look into his eyes and instead of breaking, she’ll call him ‘Mine’

One day, he’ll grab her by the waist and force them to meet face to face

One day he’ll look into her eyes and say that ‘You’re my only light’”

His phone ringing at 1 in the morning woke Rafe from his sleep, not even bothering to see who was calling before answering. “It better be important if you’re waking me up,” He mumbled, rubbing his eyes. “Rafe, you’re too sweet sometimes, you know?” Rafe rolled his eyes, staring at the clock. “Topper, why did you call me?” His patience was wearing thin, but he knew Topper wouldn’t have called him without reason at this time of night. “I just wanted to tell you I just passed Y/N walking home by herself, I asked if she wanted me to give her a ride and she said no, but she looked pretty shaken up. I’ve still got an eye on her but I thought you might want to come,” Topper didn’t have to finish, the minute the girl’s name had fallen out of his mouth Rafe was throwing on a sweatshirt and slipping into shoes faster than he ever has before. His mind was running a million miles a minute.

Why was she out this late by herself?

Why didn’t she call someone?

Did something already happen?

Rafe grabbed his keys and sped to Topper’s shared location, slowing down once he saw his jeep ahead of him. “I’ve got her, man. Thanks.” He hung up before pulling his car off onto the side of the road. “Y/N,” Rafe spoke as he got out, loud enough that she could hear it was him and not startle her. She turned quickly, staring at him as he approached her slowly. “I just wanted to go for a walk,” she mumbled, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “I didn’t mean to scare anyone.” Rafe nodded. “I’m not mad at you, but it’s late,” he spoke gently. He could see on her face she was upset and he didn’t want to make it worse. Y/N was looking everywhere but at him. She was nervous, embarrassed, everything in between. “Hey,” Rafe whispered, placing his hands on her waist like he did at the bonfire. Her eyes met his and he could read her like an open book. He saw the nerves. He saw the sadness. “Let’s get you home.”

The car ride back to the Cameron household was quiet, but not uncomfortable. Rafe kept one hand on the wheel and one locked in Y/N’s, glancing over at her every few minutes to make sure she was doing okay. Back at the house, he provided her clothes to change into while he grabbed some drinks for them. Y/N sat on his bed, preparing herself for what she was about to do. It was the reason for the walk, the reason for the silence in the car. Honestly, this could be an awful time to do it, but there was no turning back now. “Okay, so I’ve got chips, cookies, water, Pepsi, mountain dew,” “Rafe.” Y/N cut him off, staring at him as she sat criss crossed on his bed. He sat everything down and stared at her, encouraging her to continue. “This could be a bad time to tell you, but I like you. I went on that walk because I needed to get you out of my head but then you showed up so clearly it didn’t work and honestly I’ve liked you for a while, and you don’t have to like me back, oh no you’re laughing,” She cut herself off at the sight of Rafe chuckling and moving towards her. “Why are you laughing?” Y/N whispered as he got close enough that he could feel his breath on her skin. “Because,” Rafe smiled, “I like you too.”

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #obx #rafe x you #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fic #obx imagine #obx fic #outer banks #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you

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kyuuppi · 3 years

Text

vegetable stew

Pairing: Kenma x Reader (f)

Contents: hurt/comfort; angst and fluff; body dysmorphia; eating disorder (negative thoughts, fat shaming, insecurity, mentions of starvation)

Word Count: 2.1k

Kenma has always been observant.

It was a large part of his success as a setter and even now his keen observational skills contribute to his career as a professional gamer. He tends to notice things others don’t and lately that means noticing how you’ve changed.

The more he thinks about it the more difficult it is to pinpoint the exact starting point of your behavior. Haven’t you always preferred baggy clothing?

He remembers the pretty blue sweater you used to treasure back in high school, wearing it every chance you got as soon as the weather report hinted at anything lower than 10°C. He loved that sweater too—not just because of the cute sweater paws it gave you or how it almost completely covered the shorts you wore beneath, offering an unobstructed view of your shapely thighs—but instead he relished in the way it seemed to make you feel. The confidence and joy in your expression was clear as day when you wore your favorite outfits and early on in your relationship he had quickly learned that somehow your happiness was synonymous to his own.

Hence Kenma’s current frustrations in seeing that spark of joy and self-confidence gradually diminishing in the past several weeks.

Although that particular sweater had long since left your wardrobe within the first few years of university, as well-loved and worn out as it was, the more recent favorites of yours have also seemed to have gone lately. It had been a while since you had worn the short yellow polka dot dress you had been so eager to show Kenma the first day you got back from the mall with your roommates. Every pair of shorts and colorful tennis skirts had also left your weekly rotation, leaving behind only dull sweatshirts with childhood cartoon characters and baggy joggers.

Objectively, Kenma hardly cared about what you wore. If fastening a potato sack around your form made you happy, Kenma wouldn’t bat an eye—the problem stemmed from the fact these clothes didn’t make you happy. Moreover, the bland clothing brought with them their own slew of behavioral changes.

You no longer wished to go out and you avoided taking pictures of yourself, your social media suffering from an obvious lack of cheeky selfies or “outfit of the day” posts as of late. However, the most concerning change of all was your refusal to eat.

Kenma had a habit of forgetting to eat himself. He rarely felt the mild twinges of hunger, his attention generally hyper-focused on something else whether it was a game, a video needing editing, or a class project he had pushed off for far too long. It was only when his own stomach growling would startle him or the hunger pains got unbearable that he would acknowledge the human requirement of sustenance (not that the instant ramen in his cabinets provided much nutrients anyhow).

You were much more in tune with your body and, unlike him, you looked forward to eating; scheduled your days around it, even.

Your mornings began with a balanced breakfast—a meal Kenma was rarely even awake in time for—followed by a generous lunch break in which you would intentionally put everything on pause. Regardless of how much work you had to do you always made time to put everything down and have a decent lunch. It was good for your soul, you would say. A time to live in the moment and relieve yourself of stress.

For dinner you often made it a point to eat with others, whether it was going to a rowdy Korean BBQ with some friends or a dinner date at home with just him, you enjoyed sharing a meal surrounded by the people you love. On top of it all, you frequently had snacks: small bags of crackers, slices of fruit, or a few cookies you made yourself.

You loved cooking almost as much as you loved eating; most of the times he invited you over you brought a large bag with you filled to the brim with ingredients he wouldn’t have a clue what to do with. You would chastise him about his awful eating habits, grimacing at the ramen and chip wrappers overflowing in the kitchen trash can before you diligently prepare a meal for you both, healthy and flavorful, full of the vegetables he hadn’t had since the last time he went home to visit his mom.

You made him look forward to meal times too, if only to see the way you light up when he compliments your cooking or the pure bliss when you take the first bite of your favorite side dish. Eating with you became one of his favorite parts of the day.

And so that last time you made him dinner—a steaming plate of curry with shrimp tempura—the normally delicious food suddenly turned sour on his tongue when he realized you had only made him dinner.

“I’m just not very hungry today,” you had assured him with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

Foolishly, he hadn’t said anything at the time.

Maybe you had a large lunch, maybe you had a stomach ache, maybe you just didn’t want curry today—at that point in time he had no reason to think there was something seriously wrong. He had no reason to think you were starving yourself.

It wasn’t until weeks later when all the evidence stacked up, the many different signs piecing themselves together like a puzzle until it was impossible not to see the picture, even if a few were still missing.

Your baggy clothing, your refusal to eat anything, your off-handed comments about how the female characters in whatever fighting game he was playing had such nice figures—it became crystal clear what you were doing and it made him feel sick.

Kenma doesn’t generally care about others’ looks; he tends to worry more on how he is perceived than how he perceives others but he is confident that he rather likes your body as it is. He would rather die than admit how often he finds his gaze wandering when your legs are bare or how his eyes naturally trace the curve of your waist down to the width of your hips his fingers twitch to touch—he has had many thoughts about your body, none of which have ever been negative.

Even so, he doesn’t mind if you want to change yourself. He isn’t foolish enough to think he has the right to dictate how you decide to present yourself to this world, but he refuses to allow the reason for your change to be one that stems from low self-esteem or insecurity.

When you step into Kenma’s apartment, weary from a long day of classes and the extra hours spent at the gym, the last thing you expect is to be greeted by the scent of some type of stew, warm and hearty. Your stomach clenches longingly but you quickly reprimand yourself—you already reached your tiny caloric limit for the day.

You have hardly made it into the living room when Kenma comes out from the kitchen, dyed hair tied in a low bun but messy, several strands poking out and sticking across his sweaty forehead. A dark blue apron is tied around his waist and his right hand holds a ladle, the perfect image of a frazzled housewife. If you weren’t so shocked by the scene you would have laughed.

“Welcome back,” he greets softly.

“Are you...cooking something?”

Kenma looks slightly embarrassed by your incredulous tone but not offended. In all the years you have known Kenma you have never seen him in the kitchen for longer than the three minutes required to heat up a bowl of noodles. Him slaving away in front of the stove for a bowl of homemade soup is nearly unfathomable to you.

“Vegetable stew...it’s my mom’s recipe,” your boyfriend explains sheepishly.

The mental image of Kenma shyly FaceTiming his mother as she patiently walks him through chopping up carrots and mixing spices makes your lips twitch upwards and you make your way past him to curiously survey his work.

“You didn’t have to go through the effort, I could have cooked you something, y’know,” you comment as you lean over the large pot on the stove.

The contents are a rich brown color with hints of potatoes, carrots, and onions peaking out. You’re gifted another pang of hunger and you quickly step back as if it would prevent you from falling into temptation.

Kenma quietly slips into the kitchen directly behind you, his chest nearly brushing your arm as he speaks.

“It's okay, I wanted to cook for us this time.”

You freeze.

Immediately, you break into a cold sweat, the prospect of eating sending you into a state of anxiety. You can’t eat—you don’t deserve to eat. Not when your arms are so flabby, your waist so undefined, your inner thighs so close to each other—

“I appreciate it,” you start.

Your voice sounds unnaturally high even to your own ears.

“But I’m not hungry—I had a really big lunch.”

Turning, you try to offer him an apologetic smile but his face looks off. His lips are pulled into a slight frown and his eyes seem to be looking through you, as if he knows you’re lying.

“Y/n...I don’t like what you’re doing.”

You attempt to laugh but it comes out hollow.

“I’m not doing anything bad, just dieting a bit.”

“I think you’re being a little extreme.”

You huff, starting to feel defensive. You don’t want to have this conversation, not now, not ever.

“Kenma, I’m totally fine, I promise.”

“I’m worried about you,” he insists.

“I’m telling you there’s nothing to worry about, I’m being safe.”

“Skipping meals isn’t healthy.”

“Kenma, being this fat isn’t healthy!”

The words escape before you can think to stop them and you can already feel the shame pricking at your eyes as you turn away. You don’t want to see your boyfriend’s look of disgust once he realizes you’re right, once he realizes how fat and unattractive his girlfriend is. Kenma is skinny, he deserves a petite girlfriend who is just as tiny, a girl with slender legs that look cute in shorts and a stomach that lays flat regardless of the time of day. He deserves the sexy girls in his video games, in shape from years of training and perfected suited for tight leather bikini tops.

You don’t realize you’re shaking until Kenma wraps his arms around your shoulders, burying his face into the side of your neck. He lets out a shuttered sigh and if you didn’t know any better you’d think he’s crying as well.

“I love you,” he murmurs against your skin, “and I don’t like seeing you hurting yourself. If you want to lose weight, I’ll help you. We can make healthy foods together and eat them together and exercise together—just please stop skipping meals.”

Your throat feels like it's stuffed with cotton so you can only nod in agreement, raising one hand to weakly wipe at the hot tears staining your cheeks.

The two of you stand like that, huddled in the middle of the kitchen, for several long minutes until the last of your tears have gone before Kenma gently pushes you to sit down at the coffee table. He prepares two steaming bowls full of vegetable stew for you both and you silently eat as Kenma tells you how low calorie the broth is and how many nutrients his mom said were in the vegetables he used. He tells you about a new fitness game on the Nintendo Switch that you two can play together. By the time you finish your meals, Kenma has already promised to wake up early to go jogging around the neighborhood together even though you know he absolutely hates waking up early and exercising when he doesn’t have to.

Your chest aches with how much he loves you, how far he’s willing to go just if he thinks it will help you and make you happy.

A small part of your mind begs you not to listen. It insists you’ll be fat forever if you don’t starve yourself; no pain, no gain. But the more rational part of you gazes into those soft golden eyes, filled with concern and love as he rambles on about the best sources of protein—all stuff he had learned from his professional volleyball player friend Hinata—and you know your answer.

Kenma loves you, he would do anything to see you happy and healthy and you would do anything to please him.

You love him more than you hate yourself.

#kozume kenma #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #kenma x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #kenma imagine #kenma scenario #kenma x chubby reader #haikyuu x chubby reader

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vixenpen · 3 years

Note

Dabi smut with a teacher. Like in some quirkless au or something (He’s scarless but hella pierced and tatted), he had to pick up kid!Shoto one day and he sees his hot black teacher (Sis got thickness and curves for days, even in simple clothes) So he consistently picks up Shoto (even when he doesn’t have to) just to hit on her and when he finally scores a date with her, he’s at his limit after seeing her in casual wear and how amazing her personality is.

I LOVED this request. I had so much fun writing it and the details were amazing! I hope you enjoy

Hot For Teacher (Dabi x Black Reader) Quirkless AU

“Ah, come on kid,” Dabi sighed, expelling a stream of smoke as he waited at the curb for his baby brother to get out of school.

He rolled down the window to air out the car and watched the stream of middle schoolers burst through the double doors and head to their respective busses or cars.

“Shooo,” Dabi groaned, “where are you? I got shit to do, kid.”

He enjoyed hanging out with his youngest sibling, and he had no problem picking the kid up, but he also had a business to help run. If he didn’t get back to the shop in an hour and a half like he’d promised Hawks, he’d get an earful about responsibility and time management and blah, blah, blah.

He leaned back in the driver seat, deciding to give Shoto another fifteen minutes before he texted the kid.

Just then another wave of kids exited the building, Dabi’s bright blue eyes scanned them before landing on the finest woman he’d ever seen in his life.

Her cream colored silk blouse popped beautifully against her rich brown skin and a pair of slacks hugged her wide hips. Her makeup made her dark eyes sparkle and red lipstick painted her pouty mouth.

Dabi sat up, turquoise eyes running up and down that beautiful body of hers as the sexy teacher strutted past to talk to parents and wave good bye to students. When she turned around, his eyes slid down to the fattest ass he’d ever seen and he licked his lips.

Damn it must be hard as hell for her students to concentrate in class.

She turned again and began walking back towards the school. Fuck! If he didn’t stop gawking he would miss his chance. He couldn’t let that happen.

Holding his cigarette between his lips, Dabi quickly stepped out of the car and took leggy strides to catch up with the teacher.

“Excuse me.”

She turned around, her big dark eyes landing on him. Immediately Dabi knew she was sizing him up and wasn’t impressed. She gave that same disapproving teacher look Fuyumi gave whenever she was put off by someone.

Regardless, he flashed her his most charming smile. He may not be a goody two shoes like these other khaki wearing dads out here, but he knew he looked damn better than any of them.

“Sorry to bother you ma’am. I was just hoping you could help me out.”

“Sure,” she smiled back, showing off a pair of pretty white teeth. “Let’s start with that cigarette. It’s against our school policy to be smoking on the premises so if you could.” She cocked a brow expectantly.

Dabi cocked his own pierced brow back in response, but quickly stubbed out his cigarette on a nearby janitor’s cart and threw it away in the accompanying trash can.

Her smile widened. “Great. Now, how can I help you?”

Dabi chuckled. “Well, ya see, I just got this new phone and cleared out all my old contacts. Ya know, new year, new me and all that,” he shrugged, “anyway, my contacts are pretty empty now. So, I was wondering if I could get yours.”

She let out a little snort of amusement.

“That’s your pick up line? How many Girls have had the misfortune of hearing that one?”

“You’d be the first,” Dabi smirked back. “Figured the usual ‘hey beautiful, what’s your name’ line wouldn’t exactly help me stand out.”

“Trust me, you don’t need help standing out.” She replied, eying him again.

“Then that means I’m ahead of the game, right?” He held out a hand, “I’m Dabi.”

Tentatively, the teacher shook it. “Ms. Y/n.”

“Ms. Y/n, huh...” Dabi repeated slowly, his eyes ran over you with a barely masked longing. “Not ‘Mrs’?”

“Not yet.” You replied.

“How soon are you looking to change that?” Dabi asked, his smirk growing a bit smaller and more intimate.

“Who said I was looking to change it at all?”

“Certainly not me,” he replied, “that’s why I asked. I would love to talk more about how much you don’t want to change it over dinner sometime though.”

You fended off a smile. You were not about to give this over confident asshole any encouragement.

“Sorry, but I make it a point not to date my student’s parents.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m not a parent then.”

“Oh? So you just like to stroll on the campuses of random middle schools and hit on the teachers for fun?”

Dabi chuckled again.

“I’m here to pick up my little brother. Ah, hell, speaking of which, I actually could use your help with that. Kid hasn’t come out yet and I’ve already been here over half an hour.”

Your pretty face immediately crumpled with worry.

“What’s your brother’s name?”

“Todoroki Shoto.”

“Oh!” You looked surprised. “Shoto. I think I saw him headed towards the baseball field. I think the team has practice today.”

“Dammit! Really? Well, I better go say hi to the kid anyway. You mind, uh, leading the way?”

“Sure.” You shrugged.

Turning, you took the lead and guided Dabi towards the baseball diamond behind the school. You could feel the man’s eyes on your ass the whole way, and couldn’t help but put an extra switch in your hips as you did. Much to his appreciation.

You had to admit the man was fine as hell. The black undercut with lines cut in the side, his multiple piercings and even the colorful tattoos you saw peeking from under his fitted black tshirt were hot as hell. However, you had long since given up on bad boy types. You preferred nerds. Still a little light flirting wouldn’t hurt anything, right?

“There he is.” Dabi stated once the two of you verged on the field. He held up his hands to his mouth and called out: “Yo, Sho!”

The boy looked up, heterochromatic eyes widening in surprise.

“Why didn’t you tell me you had practice today you little half and half?”

“Why don’t you ever check mom’s texts?” Shoto shouted back. “She told you to come later.”

You snickered as Dabi pulled out his phone and checked his text messages.

“Huh. Well I’ll be damned.” He muttered to himself. “Alright, kiddo, I’ll be back in an hour!”

“Can you stop shouting and leave now?! I have to concentrate.”

Dabi laughed before turning back to you.

“Anyway, thanks a lot for your help Ms. Y/n.”

“Just doing my job.”

“Still, I would love to thank you properly. Maybe over coffee.” He said, sounding hopeful.

“Before it was dinner.” You quipped, playfully.

“I know. I‘m just planning for future dates.”

You giggled, shaking your head. “It was nice meeting you, Dabi.” With that you turned and strutted off.

“I hope you know I’m gonna keep trying until I get a yes or no.” He called after you.

As you entered the school’s back entrance you could hear Shoto shouting: “Can you please stop hitting on my teachers? I have to see them everyday!”

Unfortunately for Shoto, his plea seemed to go in one overly pierced ear and out the other because almost everyday since then, Dabi made it a point to stop and talk to you when he came to pick up Shoto.

“Hey there, Ms. Y/n. My contacts are filling up fast. You sure you don’t wanna reserve a spot?”

“Sorry Dabi, but my no dating policy extends to immediate family members as well.”

“I hated to cancel our reservations, but you’re left me no choice, Ms. Y/n.”

“Nobody told you to make reservations, Dabi.”

“Dinner was lonely the other day. If only I had a beautiful black queen to keep me company.”

“I’m sure There are plenty of black queens out there that would have loved to accompanying you to dinner.”

“Yeah, but they wouldn’t have been you.”

Dabi was unrelenting. Always complimenting how amazing your outfits looked on your skin tone, how flattering your make up was, or if you wore a new hairstyle or new jewelry.

You couldn’t lie. The attention was both flattering and refreshing. Since becoming a teacher, you usually only got hit on by studious academic types. Attractive yes, but straight laced and all the same with their game

Unfortunately a disturbing amount of married dads also tried their luck with you.

But Dabi was different.

He may have been a far cry from your usual type, but he was always perfectly respectful and even funny. Not to mention he was much closer to your own age than other men that came on to you.

He must have started bribing Shoto for help or asking him about your interests too. Because sometimes when he would see you, he’d have a new book to give you or your favorite iced tea from a cafe you always frequented. Which, admittedly, was pretty damn cute.

The tatted up alt boy was actually growing on you. So one day, when both of you least expected it, you finally agreed to give him your number and go on a date.

That was the first time you ever saw him straight up smile. Not smirk or grin. He actually beamed. Just like a little boy who’d been told he could have a puppy.

Ok, ok. You admit it—he was cute.

Hopefully, that charm would extend over to dinner.

When the big date came, Dabi cleaned himself up. Opting out of his usual dark attire for a deep blue fitted Ralph Lauren polo and skinny khakis. He even took out some of his piercings in an attempt to look more presentable. He thought he cleaned up pretty nice if he did say so himself, but it was nothing compared to what you strutted in wearing.

Dabi had gotten used to your stylish but conservative work attire. He was so used to your hot teacher look, that he forgot you probably had some regular clothes in that amazing wardrobe of yours.

And damn did you pick out the most show stopping dress you had. You wore a wine colored dress that cut low in the front showing off those juicy tits of yours and stopped above the knee. The heels you wore made your thighs look even yummier and your ass was jiggling out of control with every step.

Down boy. Down boy. Down boy.

He scolded himself.

“Well, don’t you clean up nicely, Dabi?” You teased.

“I’m Touya tonight, beautiful.” He struck a pose like a GQ model. You laughed. “Dabi was that guy that kept hitting on you, Touya’s the guy that’s gonna try not to screw it up.

“Oh,” you ran a manicured finger along his solid chest, “well, I agreed to a date with Dabi, but I guess Touya could be fun too.”

Dabi licked his lip, and your eyes fell on his tongue piercing, hungrily.

“Depending on how well the night goes, you might see Dabi come out later tonight.” He replied, suggestively.

You rolled your eyes, but could feel your cheeks (and your pussy) warming.

“Boy! Come on.”

Dabi as Touya opened the door to the restaurant and ushered you inside.

The restaurant he took you to was definitely a high end place; complete with soft candle light, a jazz quartet, and a maître d’.

The chemistry the two of you had definitely translated over dinner.

Dabi was just as funny as he always was and he was genuinely interested in getting to know everything about you. He hung on to your every word about the funny things your students did in class. He enjoyed hearing your college stories. He even knew some of the books you enjoyed reading and could talk literature easily.

You discovered that he was the co-owner of a tattoo and piercing shop. He was the oldest of his siblings. And he enjoyed traveling and learning new things.

Dabi enjoyed vibing with you. He loved that your personality and sense of humor was just as amazing and substantial as that body he wanted a piece of so bad.

Dinner rolled into drinks and lasted well into the night. By the time the two of you were done it was damn near four A.M.

From that night on, you and Dabi became practically inseparable. He picked you up from school right along with Shoto for dinner after work, swung by with coffee, bought you any and everything you wanted (he does come from money after all) and after a year of dating, you became more than just a ‘Ms.’

Pt.2

#dabi x black!reader #dabi x reader #flirting #first dates #bnha fluff #my hero academia #bnha imagines #bnha #bnha scenarios #my hero fanfic #bnha headcanons #dabi scenarios #touya todoroki #mha headcanons #black writers #curvy reader

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gotnofucks · 3 years

Note

What do you think Lee or other Seb and Chris characters would be like with a tall, slim and very uncurvy woman? Like only a couple of inches shorter than them, and she never feels feminine enough or sexy enough for them?

We'll start this by establishing that every person is pretty regardless of their body type. Tall, short, chubby or skinny, different complexion and smooth or furry.

As a short girl, this is for my tall skinny sisters who have a difficult time loving themselves:

Warning: sometimes dark themes, allusions to smut, possessiveness, body image issues, breeding kink, 18+ ONLY

+++++

Steve Rogers: The Avengers Charity ball was a big event and though Steve hated the public attention, he's excited to do this with you. You've been dating a few months and coming out in public was something Steve was looking forward to.

He had decorated your neck with marks to show the world who you belonged to. The territorial captain was itching to claim you in front of the world when you told him you'd rather not go.

"What?" He asked, "Why not?"

You bit your lip, shifting on your feet as you looked at him.

"It's nothing...just don't feel like it" You mumbled.

"Is it because we're going to fast? You don't wanna tell the world about us?" Steve asked and you frantically shook your head.

"No, Stevie." You took a deep breath. "It's just...you're Captain America. The people expect you to be with a womanly woman, someone who complements you. I am...me. Tall, not large enough boobs, my ass is skinny and -"

You would have went on had Steve not pulled you in by your waist and crushed your mouth to his. You kissed back, running your hand through his soft hair before he pulled back, panting.

"Are you kidding me? You're listing everything I love about you. I don't have to bend down to kiss you, you breasts feel perfect in my hands and that ass? Baby, that ass is so perfect if people knew the thoughts I get when I see it, they'll douse me with holy water. Captain America doesn't need a womanly woman to compliment him. You’re not my arm candy, I am yours because you’re the perfect one. You get me?"

Choked up with tears you nod, letting him tuck your head in his neck.

Bucky Barnes: He's been looking at you for weeks, just the way you've been looking at him. During training, he makes sure to stay behind you, correcting your posture by putting his hands on you.

For someone who'd lived more than a century, Bucky Barnes had no patience anymore and he promptly sat down his ass in front of you, making you stop mid-chew.

"Why haven't you asked me out on a date yet?" He asked you, the red Henley he wore stretching across his broad chest. You swallowed quickly, sputtering.

"Sargent?" You squeaked, unprepared to be accosted like this.

"I want you, you want me. We've practically been eye fucking each other for months. Why haven't you asked me out yet?" He snapped.

You bite your lip before wetting them with your tongue, unsure how to say this.

"You...you don't wanna go out with some other agent? Maybe Shally?" You asked and winced when he scowled at you. "I'm only saying this 'cause she has you know, a better body. She's...prettier?"

In this moment you realised how scared Bucky's enemies may feel on the battlefield because the expression on his face had you terrified. And turned on.

"You fucking with me doll? I don't want her. I love your body. You're almost my height, think of how easy 69-ing would be! You're perfect in every way. The way you kick those men's asses in the gym...fuck I always need a cold shower after that."

Your mouth dropped open and a small smile lit your face.

"So, you don't mind me being strong and lean and not... feminine?" You asked tentatively and Bucky smirked.

"Come into the bedroom with me and I'll show you how feminine you can be" He challenged.

Really, who were you to say no to him.

Ransom Drysdale: Heels. He got you fucking 6-inch heels. You were nearly his height, already being taunted by your friends for this. And he got you heels.

"Ransom, take them back. You know I don't do heels." You say and he scoffs, pushing them back at you.

"Like shit you don't do them. I want to see you in them, and wear that lingerie I got you." He orders and you frown.

"No Ransom, I just - I don't like them." You said and he turned away from his phone to raise an eyebrow at you.

"I've seen you eyeing that flimsy scarp of fabric for weeks in the mall. You like it, now wear it for me so I can admire it on you." He said.

You finger the delicate material of the bra and panty and wondered how amazing it would feel against your skin. But then you looked at the small size and squeezed your eyes shut. There was a reason you insisted Ransom turn off the lights when you fucked.

"I like them. Just...not on me" You whispered. A finger pulled your chin up and you met Ransom's blue eyes, his gorgeous face peering into you like you were the dumbest person he knew.

"The fuck?" He asked, a warning growl in his tone that had you rubbing your legs.

"Ransom...I'm...not made for these. These heels, I'll be taller than you. I don't have the body to make this gorgeous lingerie come to life. You...I don't want you to see me like that." You say, almost tearing up.

Ransom looked livid for a moment before he gently stood you up, shushing your protests as he one by one stripped you naked. You looked down, ashamed of yourself as he forced you into the tall heels, his head now below yours.

"Look at me" He rasped and you obeyed. His eyes went from your head to down, appreciatively over your breasts and flat stomach and then to the vee between your thighs.

"You're perfect." He said, head dipping only a little to suck a nipple in his mouth. "Perfect figure, perfect face, perfect height. You're the only perfect thing I have in my fucked up life."

You put your hands on his shoulder to stable your wobbling feet, and he held you close.

"Wear this lingerie. I want to tear it off your body with my teeth. And the lights stay on today."

Lee Bodecker: You pushed down on your skirt again, hiding your thin legs the best you could. The demure and pretty girls in the neighborhood snickered as you passed by them, their necklines supporting a beautiful cleavage.

You walked into your home and quickly got to making the dinner. While you didn't look like a normal lady, you were one. You could cook and clean and your daddy hoped that would be enough to get you married and off his hands.

You got dressed for you knew there would be guests tonight and tied your apron around your narrow waist, serving the food on the table for your father and the Sheriff. He came in his uniform, the hat set down on the table and eyes that followed you.

It was no surprise when he cornered you later after your father was drunk and passed out. His hardness dug into you, sweet breath on your face and nose rubbing against yours.

"Where you been all day sweetheart?" He asked, hands groping you like they'd done a thousand times before. You whimpered, tilting your head to allow him access to your neck.

"Shopping for the dinner. Daddy doesn't like stale food." You say and Lee bites you.

"What've I told you about calling him daddy in front of me? I'm the only daddy ya need." He scolded. You waited for his kiss, lips puckered when he stilled. His hands were on your breasts and he paused, reaching inside despite your protests to pull out the rolled up cloth inside.

"What the fuck is this?" He angrily asked and you hid your face in embarrassment. You were tired of having small breasts, tired of not being as pretty as others.

"Just..I wanted more meat on me." You said sullenly and Lee twisted his face in a scowl, pulling you forward with your hair.

"You're not doing this shit again. You want big fucking breasts then ask me to put a baby in you and I will. You want more meat on your body then I'll fuck a child in you right now. You get me?" He snarled and you nodded, clinging to him.

"I...I am sorry. I wanted to be pretty for you." You sob and Lee pulls you closer, taking your hands and pressing them in his belly.

"Sweetheart, you are fuckin' gorgeous. My pretty girl. Daddy's best girl. You don't need more meat. I already got enough for both of us. Kay?" He asked and kissed you deep.

Andy Barber: You hid your insecurities well. Andy didn't give you a reason to have many. He loved you, you knew that. But sometimes, you wondered if he'd have preferred a more bountiful booty to hold at night.

When you tried to eat a little extra than your stomach permitted and puked the next day, he sat you down and asked point blank what was wrong. It was difficult to lie to him, not only because he was a great lawyer but because Andy knew you too well to not know when you're hiding something.

"I wanted to gain some weight I suppose." You said. Andy titled his head, eyes going over your body before he frowned.

"But you're perfect" He said, as if confused. "You can't overeat baby. Talk to me, what's wrong?"

You bit your lip. Dating Andy was daunting. He was someone who had lines of woman waiting to warm his bed. You were surprised when he asked you out, you of all the other softer women. You, your flat figure of the other hourglass ones.

He was an alpha, he was the master. He would have looked so good next to a timid, tiny girl who would easily fold into his body for warmth. And yet, here he was with you.

"I have long legs" You blurted and didn't look at him. "I am taller than almost all women here, I don't have a plump ass you can bounce quarters off and definitely not a chest that is spilling out. I don't know Andy, I...I am not enough I guess."

You wanted to cry after admitting this and maybe you would have had Andy not knelt before you and cupped your face to kiss you deeply.

"Oh honey, you silly thing. You're more than enough. Absolutely stunning." He whispered. He trailed his hands up from your ankle to your thighs and you stifled a moan.

"Your legs are long, and I love them. So much length to run my tongue on" He continued. "You ass may not bounce quarters, but it bounces my balls well when I'm fucking your from behind. And your breasts better not be spilling anywhere, they are mine. The only thing they need to spill is either my seed or the milk that'll be in there after I breed you. You understand?"

Heat rose up from your chest to your neck and ears, eyes watering with love and desire. You put your long legs on Andy's shoulder and hugged him with your thighs, asking him softly to show you his praises again.

#steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #ransom drysdale x reader #lee bodecker x reader #andy barber x reader #steve x reader #bucky x reader #ransom x reader #lee x reader #andy x reader #steve Rogers #bucky barnes #ransom drysdale #lee bodecker #hoedecker club #andy barber

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accioecho · 3 years

Photo

Lee Da Hee for GQ Korea

"Everything becomes memories in the end. You should always strive to have a positive energy."

Feel free to share this translated interview! Though I would appreciate if you could credit me by linking back to this blog or tagging me on Twitter ^_^

GQ: But... uh, why do you look so happy? You’re looking at me with such a happy expression that I don’t know what to do right now.

LDH: Hahaha. No but if I kept listening with a blank expression, I would come off as cold looking. And you would go: “Are you in a bad mood?” So I try to smile more. Otherwise I would come off as cold looking.

GQ: That’s quite a big difference. I got startled when you pulled a straight face.

LDH: Right, it looks like I’m angry. But I’m not, so this is why I try to smile more. If I don’t smile like this, people tend to think I’m cranky. Of course when I get angry, I have a temper, but I’m not usually like that.

LDH: And it goes both ways, it’s easier for me to open up to someone if that person is smiling instead of sporting an expressionless face.

GQ: You were laughing/smiling so brightly that I was kind of hypnotized.

LDH: Hahaha

GQ: When you appeared in the drama “Beauty Inside”, you weren’t the typical villain wearing a red lipstick but were the kind of villain to wear a new, nude shade.

LDH: Ohh, that’s a very nice way to put it.

GQ: Really?

LDH: A nude tone villain. This is the first time I’m hearing this expression, I like it. Yes, up until then, secondary female characters usually tried to win someone’s heart or because they lacked attention and love, they tended to bother the female lead. But “Beauty Inside” was different. It was a different kind of role. I played a villain but my character wasn’t hateful. She had her own convictions and that’s why she was so interesting.

GQ: Kang Sara was that kind of character, played by Lee Da Hee.

LDH: This is why I didn’t want to play the typical secondary character, the typical second female lead. Yes she was given a fancy background but I also wanted to try something new, something different. Not something that could be shown through strong makeup, I wanted to add a layer of depth to her style.

GQ: I think we could feel the difference hence why it was so interesting. It was obvious that you studied this role a lot and this perfected style has stuck to you, the actress.

LDH: Well, first of all, I find it fun to radically search for something new. In a way that doesn’t stand out too much, while still being faithful to the character, I try to bring out the best of what I can do. Back when I was younger, I had no clue about all that so I just did what I was told to do. As I matured, I discovered what were my weaknesses, what to cover/hide etc. For example, you might think that I’m skinny, and that all my clothes fit me well. But I have a big bone structure so clothes don’t fit all that easily. But because I know this about me, I’m able to adapt, know how to find the right clothes to try to keep looking pretty. Thanks to the GQ photoshoot, I got to try out this colorful mascara for the first time. And it’s so much fun. As I experience new things one by one, I’m able to see what’s right for me and what’s not.

GQ: It might be insensitive/rude to say this to an actress who has a career spanning 20 years, but I feel like the name Lee Da Hee has become clearer to me since “Beauty Inside”.

LDH: No it’s not insensitive. I’m really thankful that you remember me from that role. No matter how recent the drama is, the point is that you remember me because I left you a good impression. I really appreciate it. To be honest, a lot of people remember me from my role in Beauty Inside. People actually think I didn’t play in many projects before that.

GQ: But you did consistently star in various projects.

LDH: Yes, but I guess they weren’t memorable roles. I don’t think I played characters that stayed in people’s minds. Beyond the character and the role in itself. A drama can be loved by a lot of people, but beyond that, when I watch a show as a viewer, there are some actors that leave a deep impression in the way they play their characters. I wonder if I lacked that kind of aspect. I kept thinking to myself that maybe there was something missing in my acting that didn’t leave a memorable impression.

GQ: You left quite a strong impression after playing roles like Kang Sara in Beauty Inside and Cha Hyeon in Search: WWW. But more recently in LUCA: the beginning, I feel like you shed that strong image. If you found a type of role that fit you, you could have just kept on playing the same kind of characters, but it looks like you’re not afraid to radically change your image.

LDH: You’re right, I wanted to do something different. I wanted to show a different side, something that differed from the bright roles I usually played. After Beauty Inside and Search: www, I was afraid of being type casted. I didn’t want people to think I always played the same kind of roles. But I think I was was too confident when I chose to play in LUCA. I thought I could do anything.

GQ: You thought you could do anything but it didn’t turn out this way?

LDH: Even my mom thought the same thing. That it wasn’t a really good fit. In a few words, she thought my acting felt a bit forced. Hahaha. That it didn’t really flow well. The main takeaway is that I tried something different. If it turns out to be a good fit, then it’s good and if it doesn’t, it means I can just find something that does.

GQ: Your mother sounds like the type of person who doesn’t mince her words.

LDH: My mom is very level headed. Just by looking at my back, she can tell if I was focused or thinking about something else. I spent a lot of time with my mom, even more so than with friends, and I also cried a lot in front of her. If I ask her “Mom, what’s wrong with me”, she’ll tell me not to think these kind of thoughts, that whatever I’m thinking is not true. We had a lot of moments like that.

GQ: You looked so cheerful today that I didn’t think you could also have rough times.

LDH: Why wouldn’t I? I went through times of depression when I would think, “Am I charismatic enough?”, “Do I lack something as an actress?”. There were times when my self-esteem was very low.

Since I’m tall, I used to have Directors who always said “you don’t match, you don’t match” (with fellow actors). Since I couldn’t do anything about my height, I thought that I could at least work on my body, make myself smaller. So I worked really hard on my diet. I used to eat rice cake soup that my mom used to make using beef broth, once every day. My mom followed along and did the diets with me. Every time. You can guess what kind of mom she is, right? I used to say: “Mom, should we at least drink soju since we only had one meal today?” And we’d share a bottle.

GQ: Hahaha, I see that you don’t hide your positive energy.

LDH: Everything becomes memories in the end. You should always strive to have a positive energy. And try not to think negatively. This way, you can find more motivation when an opportunity comes along, and this is also how more opportunities come up. I know that if I don’t love myself, I’ll end up being depressed and have a low self-esteem. So starting with myself, I also try to be nice to everyone, to compliment them. Let’s not be hurtful, and let’s try not to say mean things. I try to tell myself I’m a good person, and I project that to others as well. Let’s be nice to each other. Let’s be someone that gives off a good energy.

GQ: Why did you hurt your knee?

LDH: Ah, this? (Points to her left knee). I rode one of those electric scooters and fell as I tried to avoid an electric pole.

GQ: It must have hurt a lot if you fell while riding it.

LDH: I’m okay now. It was a bit concerning at first, but I’m just glad I didn’t hurt my face. It’s too bad I fell while riding it for the first time, but I wanted to try it so I learned my lesson now. I don’t even look at the scooters now. I know they’re too dangerous for me.

GQ: You made a very decisive conclusion based on your experience.

LDH: Yes, I should never try to ride a scooter again.

GQ: I also see a scar on your neck. Do you fall often?

LDH: Hahaha. No, I was washing a necklace. It’s a necklace made with my grandmother’s ring but the edge is a bit sharp. I got scratched while washing it a bit hastily.

GQ: Did you grow up under your grandmother’s care?

LDH: No I didn’t... actually both of my grandparents died in a car accident. They were so healthy so I thought they would live for a long time, but they suddenly passed away. When I didn’t work for a while, they used to say “When are you going to make money”, or “how long are you planning to live like that, without earning any money for your mom and dad”. It hurt me sometimes. But whenever I appeared on tv, they were the first ones to watch, and they always asked me when I would be on TV, on which channel... and when the time came, they always made sure to turn the tv on and watch my shows, and whenever we met, they told me they were proud of me, holding my hands and hugging me. I always think about these times. I miss them. Very much.

GQ: This is very moving. I believe these emotions and feelings make who you are.

LDH: I might sound like a crazy person, hahahah, but I have a picture of my grandma and grandpa next to my bed, and I always speak to them: “Grandma, I’m back”. If I’m upset about something, I say “Grandma, this thing just happened and this is so hard. I miss you.” - that’s how I cope and move on. This is how I try my best everyday. It makes me focus on what’s important. My family, tomorrow (the future) and all the things I love.

#lee da hee #이다희 #gq korea #kdrama #search www #the beauty inside #i love her i love her i love her

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vannahfanfics · 3 years

Note

Hewwo!! So I found this Rarepair heaven, and absoLUTELY fell in love with it! So much so that I decided to request something for the first time ever! I'm sorry if you're not taking requests right now, its totally fine if you ignore this forever, but...but..would you mind doing a BakuJirou fic? It could be about anything and everything, but I really need some BakuJirou fluff to blow my mind right about now! Thanks in advance!!

Ahhh, thank you for the praise, Anon! Thank you for your patience; here is your BakuJiro story, and I hope you like it enough to request again sometime!

Urban Harmony

The rain drummed rhythmically against the sloped roof of the bus stop booth. Through lidded eyes, Kyoka watched the water stream down the frosted glass sides; the sparse light played across the running water, making rippling ribbons of white dance across her form. They frolicked over the cozy fabric of her knitted gray sweater before jumping down to the denim of her ripped skinny jeans before diving down to her Converse, where puddles of rainwater were beginning to accumulate from the day’s torrential downpour.

Most people would enjoy the pattering of the rain, the squeaking of the tires against wet tar, and the humming of the car engines blending into a strangely soothing urban harmony. However, Kyoka preferred her own soundtrack to her daily grind; her earbuds were nestled snugly into her ears pumping heady rock music into the canals. She bobbed her head to the beat, mostly oblivious to the people trudging by clutching their umbrellas and splashing the puddles with their rain boots. Sheltering from the rain while listening to her favorite music had a certain catharsis to it, one that was making Kyoka sleepy and slightly wishing for time to stop for just a little while.

The harsh scrape of sneaker soles against wet concrete rose above her music, prompting her to tear her gaze away from the hypnotizing waterfall-like stream of rain cascading down the glass wall of the bus stop. A boy was trudging toward her, his arms buried in his hoodie pockets and his head hunched down. A backpack rustled on his back, looking laden with books. He lacked an umbrella, so the rain beat down upon him with a fury, soaking the red fabric of his jacket a deep maroon. As he glanced up, she could see vermilion eyes peeking out below sodden ash-gray bangs.

They were more mesmerizing than the falling rain, and her heart fluttered.

“This seat taken?” he grunted, speaking loudly to overpower her earbuds. Kyoka shook her head firmly and slid to the side of the bench to give him more room, or maybe to push herself as far away as she could from his intimidating aura. The boy plopped down on the bench and dropped his book bag on a dry patch of concrete with a weary sigh, leaning back and stretching out his legs just enough to not be obnoxious. As he tipped his head over the back of the bench, Kyoka watched the rise and fall of his breaths with pinkening cheeks, swearing she could see the muscles rippling beneath the fabric.

“Fuck,” the boy groaned, not aware that Kyoka had turned down her music to listen to him. “Shoulda checked the weather forecast today… I’m gonna be pissed if my textbooks are soaked.” He leaned forward to unzip his bag and rifle through it, checking their condition. Kyoka curiously craned her head to peek, growing impressed when she spotted large law textbooks in the gloom of the back. She jerked when he abruptly zipped the backpack shut and tossed a glare at her, his red eyes flashing. It wasn’t malicious, though— more like amused.

“Nosy, aren’tcha?”

Kyoka ignored the barb to swiftly reply, “You study law?”

“That’s right,” the stranger said as he reclined back against the bench, nestling one arm behind his head while the other fished in his pocket for his phone. “I’m a first-year at the university down the way,” he explained with a nod of his head in the direction from which he’d come. “My apartment is pretty far, though, so I have to wait for this goddamn bus.” Kyoka snickered at his brusqueness, watching in curiosity as he unspooled his earbuds from around the phone and shoved one deep into his ear. He left the other dangling, implying that he was at least mildly interested in her. She decided to oblige his silent invitation.

“I go to that university too. I study music.”

“In theory or in practice?”

“Practice. I’m a singer and guitarist.”

He whistled appreciatively, his red eyes flickering to her for a moment before looking back down at his screen. He pressed a button, then frowned, jabbing at the screen with his thumb. He then ripped the earbuds out with a growl.

“Pieces of shit… They’ve gone and died on me,” he muttered, squinting at the earbuds as he held them up. He flung them into the nearby trashcan and flopped back against the bench, radiating irritation. Kyoka fidgeted next to him, a blush rising to her cheeks alongside a ridiculous idea, but her tongue ended up acting on it anyway.

“Um… The bus is gonna be a while, so… You could share my earbuds if you like,” she offered meekly. The red-eyed boy glanced at her critically, looking her up and down to study her as if she were suspicious. After a second of contemplation, he shrugged and scooched closer to her; as their legs brushed, Kyoka’s face grew a whole shade darker. Her fingers trembled as she pulled the earbud out of her ear and held it out to him. She hoped he couldn’t feel her quivering when their fingers touched for the briefest second as he took it and jammed it into his ear. Kyoka switched her earbud to the opposite ear before pulling up her music playlist, leaning in to show him her phone screen.

“I’m not sure what kind of music you like, but, you’re welcome to look.”

He wordlessly took her phone to scroll through the options, eventually settling on a soft rock song. Kyoka took her cellphone back and held it to her chest as the music began to slow from the tiny speakers, accented by the pounding of the rain in her opposite ear and the silence growing between them.

“You’ve got good taste,” he remarked after a minute. She looked up with a slight gasp to see him staring out at the road, eyes lidded as he watched the cars trundle by. “So, what do you want to do with your degree, Earbuds?” he asked, looking out of the corners of his eyes at her. She flushed at the sudden nickname and squirmed in her seat, gaze dropping.

“My mother and father are both retired musicians who own a record label and instrument design company. I’d like to become a performer myself, but if that doesn’t work out, I can take over the business.”

“Well, at least you’ve got a back-up plan. You look too smart to be some starry-eyed girl who swears she’s gonna be the next big thing,” he smirked, and Kyoka smiled thinly, unsure if it was a compliment or an insult. Sensing what she was about to ask, he smugly puffed out his chest and announced, “I’m studying law to be a prosecutor. One day I’m gonna become the most famous and feared attorney in all of Japan.”

“You’re the one who sounds like a starry-eyed girl dreaming of being the next big thing,” Kyoka laughed, making the boy look at her with an indignant chuff. As she snickered, holding her curled finger up to her lips, the tension slowly melted from his body.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, crossing his arms and looking back at the road. “Laugh all ya want, but it’s the truth, Earbuds.” Looking at him, at his confident posture and cocksure smirk, she could believe it. He seemed like the type of guy to chase down his dream and wrestle it into submission no matter how many obstacles were thrown in his path.

“Kyoka,” she corrected him after a bit of silence, making him look at her with a raised eyebrow. “My name is Kyoka.”

“That so, Earbuds?” Kyoka had to smile at his complete indifference and insistence upon calling her the nickname. She liked the familiarity of it, though they were no more than strangers who’d met at the bus stop. “My name’s Katsuki Bakugo. Nice to meet you, or whatever small talk bullshit you’d like me to spout.” Kyoka giggled; he really was an asshole but in the most charming way. He was doing it on purpose, too, based on the smirk dancing over his lips.

“I’m not into small talk,” she said with a small smirk of her own. “I much prefer the rain.” Katsuki snorted, then leaned his head back against the bench to stare out into the street. The both of them watched the rain pour from the heavens, soaking up into the sparse bits of grass lining the sidewalks to flood the soil into little lakes. It slicked the road, causing the car tires to squeal and fling water as the vehicles trundled down the road. Passersby scurried along hoping to escape the deluge before it got worse, the lucky ones huddled underneath umbrellas or clad in rain jackets. The rain drummed in the background of the soft rock drifting out of her earbuds, peaceful and soothing.

She found her eyes drifting to Katsuki. His vermilion eyes were lidded as he stared out into the street, and his cut jawline shone with the rain still drying on his skin. His ash blond hair was clumped and poofy from being under his wet hood. He looked roguish, but handsomely so, and it made Kyoka’s heart pound. She gripped her phone tight, but insodoing she accidentally brushed her thumb across the screen and skipped the song.

“Yo, what the fuck?” Katsuki griped, making her jump. “I was listening to that.”

“S-sorry.”

Katsuki peered at her with scrupulous eyes, making her squirm uncomfortably.

“Come on, Earbuds. I’m not that intimidating, am I?” he asked with a huff. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees and cheeks in his hands. Kyoka flushed in embarrassment, wiggling a little on the seat.

“It’s not that, necessarily,” she said and chewed on the inside of her cheek as she ruminated on asking him for his phone number. I mean, he’s a handsome guy! I’m single, he… might be single, she debated. Kyoka hadn’t hadn’t dated much, as no boys had ever really caught her eye, but Katsuki just… felt right. Deciding there was no time besides the present, she quickly forced out, “It’s just that you’re really nice-looking, ya know? That unnerves a girl.”

Katsuki stared owlishly at her for a second, surprised by her admission. Then, a wicked smirk spread across his lips, his ego skyrocketing at the compliment.

“Oh? Aren’t you forward?” he chuckled. His wet clothes squeaked a little as he slowly straightened up. While maintaining eye contact with the blushing Kyoka, he reached out to take her phone with her. She could only watch, heart thumping, while he put his contact information into her phone. “Lucky for you, I like that in a girl, so I’ll humor you,” he said while continuing to smile smugly. He all but flopped her phone back into her hands, but she was so high-strung and stunned that her fingers only twitched a little around it.

He then looked out into the street as headlights spilled around the corner, refracting on the water and making the street look like it was covered by glittering diamonds. Finally recovering some neuron function, Kyoka realized that it was the bus. Katsuki looked back to her, smirking.

“So, you mind sharing your earbuds with me a little while longer? Least you can do, considering I’m probably gonna take you on a date,” he said playfully. Kyoka’s cheeks lit up like Christmas lights, hot and cherry-red. Still, she nodded meekly, not wishing to abandon Katsuki’s company just yet. The rain would continue to fall for a while yet, after all…

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

#bakujiro #bakujirou #bakugo x jiro #jiro x bakugo #jirou x bakugo #bakugo x jirou #kyoka jiro #jiro kyoka #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo #my hero academia #mha #bnha #boku no hero academia

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moonlit-raven-haven · 4 years

Text

The Past II

Where the reader and Harry no longer speak.

This is unedited!

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: angst, car accident, mentions of blood, hospital environment

A/N: Here’s part two! I hope you guys enjoy it :) I’ve decided to make this a mini series with maybe four parts, so stay tuned! There will be information at the very end regarding tag lists.

This series is inspire by the Instagram edit below :)

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A post shared by 𝕤𝕜𝕪 (@stylessr1) on Oct 2, 2020 at 3:19pm PDT

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“Oh don’t worry ‘bout it hun, I’m just glad ya got here safely.” Y/N hears Anne’s voice comfort him as she hears wheels slowly being dragged across the floor and the closing of the door. Y/N felt frozen, unsure of what to do. Five years with no contact with the man that was speaking to his mum and sister in the living room they once used to spend hours talking in. Now they’re strangers, perhaps she was more of a stranger to him; the tabloids don’t exactly keep track of everyday people.

“I’m sure you’re hungry, there’s some leftover food in the kitchen from dinner.” Anne says, a smile evident in her voice as Y/N hears two steps of footsteps walking towards the kitchen. Her heartbeat increases more, this time the change is noticeable as she hears the uneven rhythm in her ears.

“Finish setting up the games for us Gem!” Anne calls out to her daughter as she steps into the kitchen, Harry trailing only a few steps behind her. Y/N has her back turned to the entrance of the kitchen, not finding the strength to turn around, although she knew it would be necessary eventually, but the longer she could avoid it, the slightly more at ease she felt. Her hands are gripping the edge of the sink, her knuckles white due to the pressure. She finally hears Anne’s light footsteps, followed by slightly heavier ones and a small gasp.

As Harry walked into the kitchen, looking up in the direction of the sink, where the refrigerator happens to be, he can’t help the small gasp that escapes past his lips as he sees the girl hunched over the sink, her hands gripping onto the edge of the sink as if her life depends on it. He hasn’t seen or contacted her in five years, and she never tried, having changed his number and blocked her out of his life in a slow but obvious manner. Suddenly the winter coat he’s wearing over his hoodie feels a lot warmer than usual, and his hands become clammy. The guilt is eating him up, but happiness is right next to the guilt, happiness to see that she’s okay, happiness that they’re in the same room after five years.

“Y/N?” His voice is like a sweet melody to her ears, being able to hear it more clearly she can hear the grogginess to his voice; the way it would sound every time he came home after a long flight. There’s a hint of shock, happiness, and something else she can’t quite put her finger on. And despite still feeling frozen in place, the grip she held on the sink counter loosens as she takes a deep breath and turns around, still hearing her heartbeat in her ears.

It was cheesy really, feeling like your breath is being taken away after seeing someone for the first time, or seeing them for the first time in years. But that’s what she felt in her chest, the air leaving her lungs, much like when Harry would return home and go to her house, embracing her so tightly she could no longer breathe. Y/N had seen pictures of him online and magazines, but having him in front of her didn’t compare. His face has matured more since she last saw him five years ago, stubble adorning his face, completing the medium length of his curly, chestnut hair. His legs are covered by black skinny jeans, and his feet by black Gucci boots, a signature look she had seen over the past several years in magazines. He wears a gray hoodie, a black jacket over it to keep warm in the cold weather, and her heart beat seems to quicken just a little more, it’s the jacket she had gotten him years ago, and the memory is crystal clear.

“Harry! Would you please wear a jacket?!” Her tone was serious and worried, fearing that he would get sick. They were going out for dinner at the local diner around the corner from their flat and to say it was cold out was an understatement.

“Okay mum.” Harry had rolled his eyes at her playfully, heading over to their shared closet and pulling out a gray hoodie, he pulled it over his body and headed back to the living room where Y/N was patiently waiting for him, despite her stomach growling.

“There, happy?” Harry asked her, his voice sounding like one of a snappy teenager who had to do something against their own will. Y/N shakes her head.

“It’s the coldest day of the year, and you’re wearing a hoodie that’ll barely keep you warm...you need a winter coat Harry.”

“I don’t have one.” Harry responded to her, causing Y/N to raise her eyebrow at him.

“You live in the UK and don’t own a winter coat?” She had questioned incredulously.

“Correct.”

“You’re unbelievable Styles.” Y/N had said with a shake of her head and a small laugh. They walked over to the diner, and as she suspected, Harry was shivering once they got inside, sitting next to her in the booth. It was unusual for them to do so, preferring to look at one another directly, rather than having to turn their heads when they spoke, but in that moment Harry needed to return to his normal body temperature. Y/N had hummed a soft “living in the UK without a winter coat” under her breath, causing Harry to laugh softly as their food was brought to them and they began to eat.

The day after, Harry had one final meeting with management and the boys, the one calling the official end of One Direction. So Y/N had taken it upon herself to go shopping to find a winter coat for Harry, her idiotic best friend who did not own a winter coat, plus, she hoped it would be able to boost his mood a bit. She had settled on a long black coat, simple but stylish and fitting whatever outfit he might have chosen to wear. She headed home with the coat in its own zip up bag, she could have put it in a gift bag, but she had felt it wasn’t necessary; the coat was more of a necessity rather than a gift. Harry had not come home yet, so she hung the coat on their bedroom door and then began to cook dinner.

When Harry returned to their shared flat, they had embraced, and Y/N smiled up at him, her attention temporarily away from the food on the stove.

“I got you something, it’s in the room.” She had said, the smile adorning her features made his heart beat a little faster than usual, something he had noticed but chosen to ignore, telling himself that he was excited for the item she had bought him and nothing more. He had walked over to their room, grinning from ear to ear as he unzipped the clear plastic bag and ran his fingers over the slightly rough material. Harry unsheathed the jacket from its bag and hanger, shrugging it over his body. He walked out into the living room with a smile on his face, doing a little twirl and posing with a hand on his hip once he faced her.

“How do I look?” Harry had questioned as he watched Y/N place their plates of food onto their table.

“Absolutely dashing, as usual.” Y/N had complimented as she walked over to him and fixed the collar, she gently patted it in place before looking up at him with doe eyes. He was mesmerizing to say the least, the way his hair was tied back in a messy bun, and his green eyes looked directly at her. Unconsciously they moved closer to one another, Harry’s breath fanning gently over her face.

“Thank you, love…really needed a winter coat...and a little mood booster.” Harry had said, his tone sincere, because he genuinely did appreciate her actions.

“O’course….plus you had gotten me that satchel...had to make up for it somehow…” Y/N had said with the smile that Harry had grown to love. He couldn’t deny his feelings anymore, he loved her.

He had leaned in closer to her face, but Y/N had moved away, her heart beating rapidly as she cleared her throat.

“We should probably eat before dinner gets cold.” She had said rather nervously.

“Oh right, yeah, o’course.” Harry replied, his throat was dry, and his heart had felt more heavy than it ever had.

They made their way over to their table, where they sat down and quietly ate dinner. They weren’t laughing and talking like they normally did, but instead there was a heavy silence weighing over them, and Y/N knows it’s her fault. She had wanted to kiss him, but she was unsure if she could really cross that line. Her doubts and worries had gotten the best of her. What if things didn’t work out and years of friendship went down the drain? But little did she know that would happen eventually. After that day, Harry began to keep his distance from her, it was slow, starting off with leaving the house often, to coming home late for dinner, often returning once she had gone to bed. Then he moved out, saying that their flat had gotten too cramped, which wasn’t a lie, it had gotten cramped with tension that had become unbearable. Eventually he stopped visiting her, and the calls completely stopped, and the texts had come to an abrupt halt. And then he changed his number, his address was unknown to her as he had said he wanted to keep it a surprise for when she came over the first time, but that day had never come. She had tried hard to contact him, even asking Anne and Gemma to talk to him, but it was no use. Harry had slipped from her fingers, and she couldn’t even try to get him back.

So caught up in the painful memory, Y/N didn’t realize that a tear fell down her cheek, or that Harry moved closer to her, his face full of worry as Anne left the room, saying something about the food being in the refrigerator and to heat it up.

“Hey Harry.” Y/N finally replies, wiping the stray tear off of her face, and she feels an urgency to leave, not sure if she can handle being around the man she called her best friend for so many years, the man she had loved but refused to go further than friends, afraid she would lose him.

“Um...I should really get going, especially since they’re expecting a storm.” She says, refusing to make eye contact with him as she moves past him, shrugging on her discarded coat and swinging her satchel over her shoulder.

“You kept it.” Harry states, although it sounds like more of a question as he looks at the worn down satchel hanging on the side of her body.

“You kept the coat.” Her voice falters in the slightest, but it’s enough for Harry to notice. At the mention of the coat he tenses, his mind briefly wandering to the day she bought it for him. He wants to tell her that he’s an idiot, and that he should’ve talked to her instead of running away like he did, but he can’t bring himself to do it, scared that he’ll mess things up even further.

“Um...like I said, I should really get going…” She mumbles softly, finally looking up at him and looking directly into his eyes for the first time in five years. They look their same vibrant green, but tired, perhaps from the long flight, or maybe the emotional exhaustion he surely felt the way she did in this very moment.

“You should stay...haven’t talked in awhile…I could make us some tea.” Harry offers, it was almost as if he wants to restart that tradition they had all those years ago, but Y/N shakes her head and makes her way to exit the kitchen, seeing that Anne and Gemma had begun a game already.

“Storm is starting, I should really get going…” Y/N says, her voice is no longer a whisper, but the various emotions can be heard, her eyes tearing up. The rain can be heard hitting the window, it’s soft, but she knows that in time it’ll get harder, making a dangerous ride home. She tells herself that she needs to leave for her own safety, rather than needing to be away from Harry. She had spent nights with Anne and Gemma when stoma would occur, so he excuse was lame, not thought of thoroughly.

“Please stay, love…” Harry’s voice is pleading, he wants to fix things, talk it out, explain himself and why he had acted the way he did. Y/N feels her heart ache, the dull pain gone, now replaced by the painful pang she had learned to ignore; overcome by emotion, she snaps.

“You don’t have the right to call me that anymore Harry! You left me, couldn’t even explain yourself...couldn’t even talk to me ‘bout it. I tried to contact you, but you pushed me away like I meant nothing, Harry! Absolutely nothing…” Y/N voice starts off strong, but cracks as her body shakes with emotion and tears begin to fall down her face. Harry is stunned, the guilt is now coursing through his body, realizing how badly he has hurt her. He moves closer to her, attempts to put a comforting hand on her shoulder, but she moves away from him, her eyes getting a slight red tint to them as she shakes her head.

“I need to go…” She murmurs, walking away from him, and as she walks into the living room she sees Anne and Gemma looking at her worriedly, the words Y/N had said moments before were enough for them to get a glimpse into the untold story that ended Y/N and Harry’s friendship.

“Sorry Anne and Gemma...can I get a rain check on game night?” Y/N asks with a sad smile as she walks over to the women and embraces them.

“Of course, Y/N. Are you sure you’re alright to drive? The storm seems to have finally picked up.” Anne says worriedly, and Y/N finally hears the rain pelting down against the window, and while she knows it probably isn’t safe for her to drive, especially with her heightened emotions, she refuses to stay another minute in the house where Harry would try and talk to her.

“I’ll be alright Anne. Thank you guys for dinner.” And with one final wave Y/N is out the door, gripping onto her coat and satchel as the heavy raindrops call against her clothing, becoming soaked in a matter of seconds. She runs to her car, pulling the keys out the satchel and unlocking it before climbing in, shivering at the cold clothes that now clinged to her body. She shrugs the satchel off and puts in the passenger's seat, putting her keys in the ignition and turning it on, waiting for the car to heat up before turning the heat on. She sees Harry run out of the warm house, his hair clinging onto his face as his hoodie takes on a dark gray color from the rain, it was rather really cinematic really.

“Y/N! Please!” She hears Harry shout, his voice muffled by the loud rain and comfort of her car. Y/N shakes her head and drives off, her hands gripping the steering wheel the same way she had done with the counter of the kitchen sink minutes before. Her mind is clouded with thoughts and memories, her eyes becoming heavy with tears, blurring her vision. I should pull over, compose myself. She thinks to herself, but decides against it; the quicker she got home the quicker she could break down in the comfort of her flat.

Her mind keeps wandering to the scene that played out at Anne’s house, causing the tears in her eyes to finally fall down her face, and she wants to stop crying, but she can't. Y/N’s vision becomes more blurry than before, and her mind is elsewhere, not truly focusing on the road in front of her, which is why she doesn’t notice the traffic signal she ignored, the red light now barley processing in her mind as a car crashes straight into the passenger's side of her car. The impact takes her by surprise as she’s suddenly very aware of her spinning car, and she grips the steering wheel, trying desperately to gain control of her car again, but it’s of no use as she crashes into the traffic light, the impact isn’t as hard as it should’ve been due to her breaking, but the traffic light still flickers, going black just like her vision.

-*-*-*-

Y/N’s eyes strain open, bright fluorescent lights filling her vision before adjusting, finding herself in a hospital room. She hears the steady beeping of the heart monitor and the soft click of the IV drip, oxygen being pumped into her lungs in a small steady stream.

“Hey you.” She hears a soft gruff voice next to her, the voice she recognizes as Mark’s, her boyfriend of two years.

“Hey babe.” Y/N says with a weak smile as his hand finds her, slowly bringing it up to his lips and kissing her knuckles gently.

“Was worried ‘bout you when I got the call, thankfully nothing too serious, just a sprained wrist on your other hand and a small cut to your forehead…but why didn’t you stay at Anne’s like you normally do when there’s storms?” He questions softly, concern filling his orbs as he squeezes her hand gently.

“Um...just wanted to get home…” Y/N lies to him. Despite being together for two years, Mark knew nothing of her past with Harry, or why she avoided talking about him whenever Mark would bring up some new headline about Harry and his success. As far as Mark is aware, Harry is another celebrity out of reach from their lives.

-*-*-*-

Anne received a call minutes after the accident, being one of Y/N emergency contacts. Harry was in the living room, his face between his hands as Gemma tried to comfort him while scolding him for messing up such a good friendship all those years ago. But when Anne walked in with a serious look on her face the two looked up at her worriedly.

“What happened?” Harry was the first one to speak up, removing his hands that had once been covering his face.

“It’s um...it’s Y/N...she’s been in a car accident.” Anne said quietly, and upon seeing Harry’s face become anguished, she quickly followed her statement with an urgent, “She’s okay.” And Harry’s face is washed with relief.

“We should go.” Harry says, his clothes were still drenched when he got up from his spot on the couch, leaving a wet spot from where he sat.

“You should change first hun, don’t want you getting sick, or have people recognize you.” Anne quickly chimed in before he could have walked out the door. Harry had nodded, quickly understanding the second part to her statement. He was wearing the same clothes from the airport, making it possible for someone to recognize him easier. He hums a “I’ll be right back” before disappearing upstairs with his luggage.

-*-*-*-

Upon arriving at the hospital after a rather treacherous and slow car ride, they all climb out of Anne’s car and head towards the entrance of the hospital, umbrellas in hand. They receive guest passes before making their way up to the second floor of the hospital. Harry is anxiously biting his lip, because despite not talking to Y/N for five years, he still cares deeply for her, only worsening his guilt about the whole situation.

They finally reach her room number and Anne opens the door quietly, making Y/N and Mark’s quiet moment watching television come to a halt.

“I’ll be back in a bit to give you three...four...some privacy.” Mark says to the group, planting a gentle kiss on Y/N’s forehead. He leaves the room, his brows slightly furrowed at the sight of Harry Styles in the room, visiting his girlfriend, throwing him in a loop. And as he makes his way down to the cafeteria for a coffee, the pieces slowly start to assemble in his head, the reason Y/N didn’t like to talk about the famous star, and why she probably hadn’t stayed at Anne’s house like she normally did; the two have history.

Harry closes the door gently once Mark exits the room, his face scrunching up slightly in distaste at seeing Y/N with another man who wasn’t him, even if her and Harry were never truly together, it still hurts. He recalls when he came home after his first solo tour, he was having dinner with Anne and Gemma, the topic of Y/N briefly coming up.

“Oh Y/N is so wonderful darling! It’s such a shame you two stopped talking.” Anne had commented over dinner.

“Yeah, she’s wonderful...deserve the whole world.” Harry had replied quietly, a small smile coming onto his face at the mention of the girl.

“She’s got a boyfriend now, his name is Mark...seems serious if you ask me.” Anne added as she had taken a sip of her wine. Harry had felt a pang in his chest when he heard the word boyfriend, wishing that it was him and not some other bloke. But Harry had foolishly run out of Y/N’s life.

“Does she seem happy?” Harry had asked seconds after, a hint of jealousy to his tone, a hint of jealousy that he truly had no right to have.

“Yeah...seem a bit tense there, Harry, almost jealous…” Gemma had finally chimed into the conversation. Harry had simply laughed at her comment, shaking his head as he denied the claims of jealousy, carrying their conversation elsewhere as dinner continued.

That was two years ago now, she has been with Mark for two years. Mark is the one making her happy, kissing her, taking her out, buying her gifts, making sure she’s treated properly, not Harry. He no longer has a place in her life, at least he thinks he doesn’t. So lost in his thoughts, he didn’t realize that Anne and Gemma had left the room, leaving Harry and Y/N alone. Harry clears his throat.

“Where are Gemma and my mum?” Harry asks Y/N, his voice a bit hoarse.

“Went to the cafeteria, said that we should talk…” Y/N says as she looks up at him from her position on the bed, and for the first time since entering her room, Harry looks at her, wincing at the cut on her head, part of her hair dried with blood, and her wrist wrapped in a bandage. And he can’t help the bubble of guilt within him that seems to grow more; it was his fault she was on the bed, if he had stayed quiet, she would’ve probably gotten home safely, or been willing to spend the night at Anne’s house.

“You okay, Harry?...” Y/N asks quietly, noticing his lack of words or movement, and the tears that fell down his face. She is still mad at him, but above all, she is hurt, but she still can’t stop herself from caring about him. Harry, finally noticing his tears he shakes his head and sniffles, wiping his face clean with the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

“‘M okay lo- Y/N...thank you for caring.” He says softly, quickly catching on to the mistake he almost made once again.

“I should get going…” Harry says softly. He knew Anne told Y/N that her and Harry would need to talk to fix things, but her willingness to do is what makes him head for the door.

“Harry! Wait...I reckon we really do need to talk.” Y/N calls out after him from her position on the hospital bed.

“Uh...yeah, just not right now Y/N. I really should get going…” He catches himself trying to run away again, and quickly stops himself. “When do you get discharged?” He questions, still standing by the door as he turns to face her.

“Tomorrow morning.” Y/N states with a small smile, one that almost manages to make him feel better in an instant, but he doesn’t allow himself to feel better, he deserves what he’s feeling after having been the cause of her emotional turmoil, the reason she’s in that bed.

“Dinner tomorrow? My place? 7’oclock. We could talk and catch up.” Harry proposes, fiddling with his fingers nervously.

“Dinner tomorrow, your place, 7’oclock.” Y/N repeats softly, perhaps they could try and go back to normal, be as close as they once had, as best friends. Harry hums in response, nodding his head before opening the door and gently closing it behind him, leaving Y/N with a gentle smile on her face and a heart that no longer aches as much.

-*-*-*-

A/N: I will be making a two master lists for Harry Styles content! :) One for ALL Harry Styles fics I will do in the future, and one for JUST this fic. Comment “All Harry fics” or “Just this Harry fic” if you would like to be added.

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