I Love Grimmjow But Wtf Is His Hair

— daddy’s got a bit of a bad habit, grimmjow jaegerjaquez.

contents :: fem!reader, grimmy has a potty mouth, mainly fluff, domestic life, reader has a baby girl w/ grimmjow ! a bit of angst(?)

soleil’s sticky note. the way how my phone still autocorrects my name but not grimmjow’s last name…wtf?

“fuckin’—!”

“stop cursing or i swear to god i’ll put tape over your mouth!”

immediately, grimmjow shuts up with a small glare thrown your way. he knows you’re right for scolding him, but damn does he hate being told what to do. grimmjow tells you every time,

“you’re real fuckin’ lucky that i love you.”

and you are, honestly. because without grimmjow, you’d never have the bundle of joy you’ve been blessed with. grimmjow settles for calling her a little “brat” or “runt”— which you’ve told him to stop multiple times— yet when he’s all alone with her, cradling his little girl close to his chest, he whispers the sweetest little nothings in her ear. she can barely understand what her daddy says at her age, yet every time she smiles or coos at him. it’s that unspoken father-daughter bond between them that you think of fondly every time.

what you don’t think of so fondly is grimmjow’s potty mouth. of course, you love him. you love his voice, his eyes, the way how pouts when you tell him that no, he can’t fight someone just because they didn’t say excuse me— but you’d rather not have your daughter know every curse word in existence before she’s even a year old.

your daughter giggles at her father, seemingly amused by the whole scene. she doesn’t understand a single word, but by the looks of her daddy and mommy, daddy got scolded again. grimmjow turns to her with a sigh, picking her up into his arms with a small smirk.

“you think daddy gettin’ in trouble is funny?” he says, tickling her softly. she laughs at the tickles, moving around in his arms. she’s getting more active each day…it makes his heart ache, in a good way of course. “and you’re still laughin’? you’re hurting daddy’s feelings, ya little brat.”

“grimmjow.” the warning in your voice is clear to him.

“fine, fine! i’m sorry, sheesh.” he scoffs, rolling his eyes. with your daughter still in his arms, he approaches you with a kiss to the cheek as you wash the rest of the dishes. it’s not long until he cuddles up to you with your baby safe in his arms, smiling softly. it’s faint, but you know it’s there.

“can’t believe both my girls ‘r gangin’ up on me.” and the sweet laugh that comes out of your mouth is enough for him to forget about everything else. he’ll let you boss him around all you want just so he can hear it again.

the scene is so sickeningly sweet that it could make him throw up. was this really him? he thought, did he even deserve this after what he’s done? nah, you weren't lucky that he loved you. he was lucky— blessed— that you even tolerated him in the first place. he's realized that the first time you kissed him. he was so empty— no feelings, no emotions, no trust, no love—just the pure desire to fight and survive. barely even able to sleep peacefully like he could in that desolate world. but that’s not his home anymore. no, it’s you and her, a fact that he cherishes everyday. yeah, he was an asshole…he still is, kinda, but he’s changed.

for the better. for you. for her.

Volume 37 of My Hero Academia is officially released in English! Here’s an official translation of MHA trivia with Horikoshi and Nejire!

MEN WHO ARE SECRETLY PUSSY HOUNDS. (✿˶˘ ³˘)

⋆ ft. izuku, tamaki, megumi, tobio 𓌹-𓌺

master list link

࣪ . ˖˙ 𖥦 I kind of hate this…… and I made it way too long on accident. But once I started I wanted so badly to finish it, so….. please enjoy while I crawl into a hole. (՞߹ - ߹՞)

Izuku never fails to stand tall in the face of whatever comes his way. The man is an unyielding force in his resolve if he believes in what he’s doing.

Such a statement is simply a fact of life. It’s like declaring that the sky is blue, grass is green, and Midoriya Izuku happens to be the single most determined man you’d ever met.

He’s clever, wicked smart and, as he’s gotten older, he’s managed to get a handle on his nervous stuttering and rambling.

Hell, if you watched him in an interview now, you wouldn’t think to associate him with the humiliating first interview he’d had right out of school that managed to make him go viral overnight. The comments were not kind.

So, as calm and well spoken as Izuku is today, you never expected him to be such a….. such a pussy hound for you. It’s the best way you can describe it.

Izuku fucking loves that tight little pussy of yours in such a gut wrenching manner that he day dreams about it often enough it’s resulted in Bakugou smacking him upside the head to “pay fucking attention,” more than once during department meetings.

The scenarios that run rampant through his mind are more than enough to send all his blood rushing below his bellybutton while he’s at his desk. With the way his stomach clenches and the ache that burns and nags at him to just get. inside. your. fucking. pussy. — well, he’s sure his briefs are sticking to the tip of his cock in the most lewd way.

So, Izuku takes a long lunch.

Just like that, as soon as he gets home, Izuku becomes the stuttering, blushing, babbling mess he was not so long ago. He strides into your kitchen, snaking his arms around your waist and groans when he smells the sweet vanilla scent of your lotion on your neck.

You easily let him grip your hips and lift you up onto the edge of the counter, fingers slipping into your soft sleep shorts and tugging them down and off your ankles. Izuku kisses you frantically, shoving his pants to mid thigh and allowing his cock to bob free and smack his stomach.

He shivers, giving you the prettiest high pitched whine that shoots straight to your pussy when his heavy dick starts stretching you a bit too eagerly. His lips part and his cheeks blossom with a blush so intense you’re sure steam will come from his ears as he bottoms out.

It’s too much too quickly and when you hiss, sinking your nails into his shoulders, all he can do is bury his face in your throat and whimper in apology. You can tell he’s desperate when his voice starts to shake and his hips thrust in shallow motions controlled by a mind of their own.

He babbles, “M’sorry princess, m’so sorry! Your pussy’s so good squeezing my cock, I can’t stay still. God — oh my god, please please let me fuck you!”

It’s fruitless to resist his begging. So suffice to say, you let your blubbering, stupidly hot, pussy hound of a husband use you until you’re both curling your toes and seeing stars.

Tamaki is shy on a good day.

He blushes bubblegum pink, he stammers, he avoids eye contact to the absolute best of his ability during interviews. Of course, he does manage to put on a more approachable front to face the public. If only to show impressionable children that if he can be brave, then they can, but still he struggles with his own anxiety.

It’s only common sense that everyone assumes you’re the more dominate one in the bedroom, and well, they aren’t wrong, per se.

But, there are two sides to every coin, and Tamaki is nothing if not a pussy hound for you.

Granted, his inner dog only comes out every so often, and even then he’s still a desperate puppy who seems to wiggle his way into having control.

And tonight, that’s where you find yourself.

Tamaki swears he can’t help it.

“T-Tamaki, stop!” You push at his shoulders, the warmth of his slick chest presses firmly against your tits and it does not help your resolve in any way. “Let me finish washing my hair at least,” you protest weakly, steam curling up into the air around you both, blanketing the shower in a fog.

Tamaki whines childishly into your throat, sucking at the hollow of it until you shudder in his hold. His fingers tighten on your hips, thumbs tracing the bone softly.

“Please pretty girl, I need you so bad. I wanna feel your pussy sucking on my cock. I’ve wanted it all day,” he pleads against your collarbone, voice pitching higher, dragging out the words at the end as he complains continuously.

He’s been at this for almost the entirety of your mutual shower and, really, it’s not as if you don’t want to have sex with him, you just wanted to finish cleaning off first! Decidedly, you lace your fingers in his drenched purple hair and yank until he pulls back and meets your gaze.

His face is a pretty rosy pink and his eyes are so hooded they’re almost shut, no trace of your shy husband to be found as he stares you down with a searing heat.

Within a heart beat of your agreement he spins you, pushing a hand into the middle of your back and tugging on your hip until your ass is sticking out. You yelp, catching yourself with palms meeting cool tile.

His cock is full and jumps steadily when he rolls his hips to drag it over the lips of your pussy, gasping softly and hanging onto your waist with an iron grip until his weeping tip catches. Then he’s sliding inside and stretching you out completely with one sharp thrust.

One low moan of his name and Tamaki’s wrenching you back to meet each desperate push of his hips. The smack of your skin is so loud it makes your face burn, and the force of it pulls you up onto your toes to keep your balance. This man’s got you biting your fingers just to keep yourself grounded.

Your poor husband’s been so worked up all day that when his panting turns into stuttered breaths and cut off whimpers after about three minutes, you’re not surprised.

“Oh, oh god, I’m gonna cum baby, wanna cum inside. Please can I?” He pleads, eyes glued to where his cock disappears inside your pussy and returns even shinier than before.

He’s crying out, shoving his dick to the root inside you and stuffing you full before you finish nodding yes.

But, it doesn’t bother you much that he finished so fast. Soon after, a soft, warm tongue starts playing with your clit, lazily eating your pussy until you’re licked clean of his release and squirting on his face.

Megumi pretends to be aloof. He pretends that he’s cool, collected, and apathetic. As if nothing ruffles his feathers, and to give him credit, he can be those things.

Yet, he’s also much more. Once you sneak past his prickly exterior, Megumi is the kind of guy who cares so violently that he has to pretend he doesn’t or it’ll tear him to shreds. Actions speak louder than words with him.

Most people aren’t privy to the softer side of your sweet husband and he maintains his uncaring attitude to the majority nonetheless. Like it’s some kind of secret.

So you’re sure people would be unfathomably shocked to find that Megumi can and has, on several occasions, dissolved into a messy, needy, unraveled pussy hound when it comes to you.

When Megumi falls into this sort of mood, he really lets go. He’s been sending you increasingly toe curling texts and pictures all day while you were at work and you just knew what was coming once you returned home.

You find the dark haired man sitting on your couch, shorts and briefs shoved to his thighs and t-shirt rumpled at his collar bone. Slender fingers curl tightly around his cock, jerking himself off slowly, a delicious peachy blush trailing from his cheeks to his nipples.

His head raises up when he spots you, eyes heavy and smoldering when he reaches a hand out to you and makes a grabbing motion.

“C’mere baby, want you so bad,” he murmurs pitifully, hips rolling up to meet his hand when he drags it back down his shaft. You raise an eyebrow in amusement and he pushes out his lower lip.

“You need it that bad Megumi?” You tease, sauntering over to the couch to get a better look at him. He scowls in return but his hand never leaves his cock, thumb swiping over the head which makes him bite harshly onto his lower lip.

He sinks down a little lower into the couch, browns pinched together to emphasize his pretty little pout. “Don’t be mean. Just ride me.” He pauses, eyeing you. “Please.”

“Awfully demanding for someone who needs my pussy so badly, aren’t you?” The smug smile on your face makes Megumi huff indignantly.

You don’t waste much more time teasing after that, too riled up from all the filthy texts he’d sent you throughout the day.

You strip off your clothes until you’re bare. Megumi kicks off his shorts and yanks his shirt off in similar fashion, tossing them aside carelessly. You crawl onto the couch and straddle his lap, raising on your knees and steadying him at the base until you smoothly sit all the way down on his cock.

Megumi’s hands fly to your waist, head tossing backwards and eyes rolling back with a throaty moan when he finally gets the unrelenting tight squeeze on his dick that he’s been longing for since he woke up this morning.

You thread a hand through the hair at the base of his skull and pull until he looks you straight in the eye. He looks pussy drunk already with his glassy eyes and pink cheeks, jaw hanging open as his chest heaves. To think, you haven’t even moved yet.

You ride him slowly at first, listening to his bitten off gasps each time you sit back down. When you start to pick up the pace, Megumi’s eyes widen and his nails pinch your hips.

Megumi pleads with you to no avail. “Oh fuck, your pussy feels amazing princess, I can’t.” His voice takes on the whiny quality that you adore. “Please, s-slow down baby or I’m gonna cum.”

You don’t slow down. You kiss him sweetly, brace a hand on one shoulder, tangle the other in his hair again and fuck him until his breaths are shuddering remnants of a sob and he’s limp on the couch beneath you.

Tobio, without sugar coating it, is arrogant. Don’t get it wrong, he absolutely can back that confidence up with the seemingly natural intelligence he has when it comes to volleyball, but he’s clueless with relationships. Not to mention he has zero filter.

But he’s kind. He’s sweet, and you love Tobio so much for trying his very best to understand the ins and outs of what it means to be a good boyfriend to you. He becomes such an easygoing version of himself when he’s alone with you and you get more enamored with him by the day.

That’s why you’re sure people, mainly Hinata, would pay good money for the information that “the king” is a desperate fiend for you. Your very own personal pussy hound.

Tobio commands the court, but he melts into the mattress and becomes something akin to putty when you have sex.

Your usually indifferent boyfriend has been persistently begging you all night to sit on his face and now that you are, you wonder why you didn’t do it sooner.

“Jesus Tobio, you’re so good at eating pussy — fuck,” you praise, voice slipping into a whine as you roll your hips to drag your swollen clit over his velvet tongue. Your fingers tangle in silky black hair and pull until Tobio’s eyes flutter shut with a husky moan.

One of his hands slide from your hip to your ass and he spanks you harshly, grabbing a handful before he moves it down to squeeze the base of his cock.

You keep your heavy lidded gaze on his pretty face, chest rising and falling with choked off gasps the closer you get to cumming. Tobio licks lazily at your pussy, pushing his tongue inside you and then sucking on your clit.

He cracks open his eyes and his stare makes you feel as if warm honey rushes through your veins instead of blood. His cotton candy pink cheeks paint him as the picture of pussy drunk between your thighs, whimpering when you yank on his hair that much rougher.

It doesn’t take much more for you to cum with a shiver and then Tobio’s wildly shoving you down his body until his heavy cock is nestled against your pussy.

“Baby please,” Tobio whines, large hands kneading your ass and spreading you until cool air brushes over you. “I was good yeah? So let me put my cock inside you.”

“Why should I? You’re already about to cum, aren’t you Tobio? Just from eating a little pussy.” You can’t resist the urge to tease him, tone dripping in condescension and a wolfish grin tugging at your lips.

He glances at the wall with a frown, blush roaring back to life with a vengeance but the cock twitching rhythmically between your thighs contradicts his petty actions.

“You’re gonna cum as soon as you get inside of me.”

Your boyfriend shoots you a halfhearted glare. “No, I’m not.”

Tobio, in fact, does cum the instant you sit all the way down on his cock. His voice cracks when he does, a sweet cry of your name falling from his lips.

Lucky for you, he stays rock hard afterwards, and he only looks a little dazed. Tobio flips you both and fucks you until your pussy is raw and he has nothing left to give.

Hello! Your writing is amazing! Can I request a yandere Sentinel Prime with a femme reader who has an overprotective Sire? Her sire does not care about who Sentinel is and clearly does not like him and it pisses Sentinel off. Take your time!

Yandere!Sentinel Prime/Femme!Reader with an overprotective sire [hcs]

tw: yandere behavior, mentions of manipulation, jealousy, very brief violence, possesiveness. word count: ~890 a/n: for some reason, I can see Ultra Magnus being this father figure, hehe. thank you for request, Anon~ smoooooch

Your sire doesn't like Sentinel? Well, that certainly wasn't in the plans for him. He expects everyone to treat him like a royalty and look up at him, so when someone treats him differently, it kinda catches off guard.

I don't think yandere!Sentinel will go into his 'killing mode' the moment he sees an obstacle, mainly because he's sure he can take care of that in a classy way.

Sentinel is definitely that guy who really wants to make a good first impression on your sire. He might act like a really confident mech in front of you, but for some reason, he is a little nervous about the thoughts of meeting your sire.

In his mind, it really goes quickly from «oh come on, why would her father dislike me? Everyone loves me!» to «oh Primus. what if he hates me?» and that's how it repeats 24/7. Eventually, the confident Sentinel wins, but he takes a lot of time to prepare for any possible scenario. Everything should be perfect, every single smallest detail is personally checked by him, so nothing goes past.

Imagine Sentinel's expression when your sire harshly brushes it off with a «You're not good enough for my daughter and I don't want you around her. End. Of. Story» and just SLAMS the door shut into his face the moment the other bot sees him. Basically, that's where everything goes wrong. Oh, his poor ego.

Yandere Sentinel especially hates when something goes wrong and not according to his plan. He's a perfectionist, and if he spots any imperfections, it's a total disaster for him! His mood quickly changes from sweet and kind to annoyed and impulsive, so it's better to stay away from him for a good few minutes until he takes a deep breath and goes like «this is fine...everything is fine! :)» with his optic twitching and a small frown on his faceplate, which is easily noticed through his smile.

Yandere!Sentinel gets paranoid with the thought that your sire will start putting the wrong thoughts in your processor, talking trash about him behind his back, so eventually you will start to question your love for Sentinel as well. So, he decides to step in and turn the tables, planting the seeds of distrust about your parental figure. Does your father really care that much for you? Nothing is wrong with being a little protective over your own little spark, but you're no sparkling, you should build your own life!

He does it carefully, using tiny, innocent and careful remarks whenever you two are alone after another disastrous meeting with your sire.

«If your sire really wants what is best for you, why he takes your chances of happiness?»

Until he practically struck you with a head-on, «You always tell me that you love me. So you should choose. Me or him.»

Sentinel is selfish. A small part of him understands how ridiculous it is, to feel jealousy just because your mentor is present in your life. But when you start having more of those father-and-daughter times together, when your attention goes more to your sire rather than him, all rationality in his processor just disappears.

He spends half the day trying to call for you. He wants to know where the frag you are and WHY you don't pick up his calls immediately, since he needs you right here and now. As his partner, you're obligated to always be there for him, and being ignored by you...the audacity!

Sentinel walks in circles in his office, and the silence is bothering him to the insanity. One moment, he will start crying his spark out to her about it.

“After everything I have done to her..! Can you imagine that?” he looks at Airachnid for validation, his voice full of frustration. “I swear, if she calls back, I'm going to tell her everything I think of her, that—”

But the moment he sees your name popping up on the screen, he is conflicted. On the one hand, he wants to pick up immediately, on the other hand, he doesn't want to seem desperate. So he waits a few seconds until he finally decides.

Airachnid gives him almost a disappointed look as she sees her boss using that sweet voice when he talks to you. Suddenly, Sentinel is not that angry anymore, and if anything, he's relieved to finally see and hear your precious voice. He almost forgets about what he said a moment ago until you hit him with «oh, sorry Sentinel, I was with my sire all day. I can't visit you today. See you tomorrow!».

He almost snaps the device in his servo by the end of the call.

Eventually, Sentinel gets exhausted from all of it. He really tried, despite the constant disrespect from your sire. He has no remorse when he finally asks Airachnid to deal with the obstacle in his way of getting you, covering the story as an incident. The death of your sire would shatter you, but don't worry, you will heal soon enough with him by your side.

♡ short hair nejire ♡

twitter | ig | patreon

sentinel prime

blue haired girl

hado nejire x reader

warnings: growing apart, unrequited feelings, abandonment, non-descriptive self-harm, lesbians (the horror!)

a/n: there's a bit of time skipping in this, so i’ve labeled things as their verses in the songs and the years (1, 2, and 3A) + semesters of high school they took place in. is nejire adhd/autistic coded? i cant tell, maybe its because i see the way she is as my normal (adhd) that i cant tell. i'm basing her personality strongly off the wiki bc she really hasn't had that much air time.

word count: 2.9k

inspired by and based on tv girl's- blue hair

Verse 1 - First Semester 1A

You and Nejire met on your first day of high school, class 1A. Both of you had quirks that were more powerful than the rest of the girls in your class, assuming that the two of you thought that you were superior to them and were already looking down on them, they took initiative and distanced themselves from you at the start. This left the two of you with only two options, have no friends, be a lonely outcast for the foreseeable future, or become friends. Obviously, it was an easy choice, and it was nice that the two of you got along well, and probably would have become friends even if you weren’t put in that unfortunate social situation. 

She was a blunt girl, not really knowing when it was the appropriate time, if at all, to say something that she wanted to say. She often ended up saying things that were accidentally hurtful, though if you let her know, she would instantly feel remorseful and apologize incessantly. She wasn’t always sure how to make a joke, often her attempts falling flat, but she was bright, and cheery, and had so much knowledge that she longed to share. You couldn’t help but find yourself smiling at her as you listened to her ramble about the newest thing, she learned that week on national geographic. 

One day, in the middle of your first year, she asked you how to be funny. You were taken aback, and asked her back, “you think I’m funny?” She nodded with a small smile.

You contemplated on how you should respond to her difficultly abstract question, “I don’t think that’s something you can teach.” 

She looked down, her smile falling off her face sent a pang of guilt to your heart. You quickly tried to backtrack, “I think you’re funny though Hado! You’re constantly making me smile and laugh!”. Her eyes met yours, a furrow forming on her brow, you stammered on, “Maybe not everyone thinks you’re funny, but I think that’s true for everyone! You just got to find the people that do think you’re funny and like being around you… like me.” You held eye contact with her despite the bright flush that made its way to your cheeks, ask if you were trying to transfer your conviction over to her.  She brushed off your almost confession with a giggle and a change of topic.

Chorus 1- Second Semester 2A

As you both aged, Nejire started to get more notice than you. Not that you were jealous, you being too enamored with her to care, no, you were just happy that she was getting the recognition you thought she so obviously deserved. It did sting though, when she would turn down your invitations for afterschool dates poorly vailed by you as hangouts. She needed to train though, she would say, and dismiss you with a “next time, okay y/n?”

Sometimes as you left the school building on your way home you would take the long way, past the training fields to watch her for a little bit, training with two boys from your class. You wondered why she didn’t ask you to train with her, to help her. You would never ask though, far too afraid of the answer that seemed to be pulling at the hem of your shirt, demanding your attention. She’s just focusing on training, it’s not like she suddenly stopped liking you. It’s not like she wanted to stop being your friend. It’s not like she was purposely ignoring you. Right?

Verse 2- Third Semester 1A 

The two of you were sitting in a cafe after school, one that Nejire had shown you a picture of on Pinterest and said the two of you had to go for their cute specialty foods. You had gotten a parfait, the cream on top having been manipulated into the shape of a cat, Nejire got a jasmine tea latte, the art in the foam had her swooning and whipping out her phone to snap pictures of it in multiple angles as she told you about her Pinterest page’s aesthetic, you listened along, slightly confused at the idea of people posting on Pinterest like it was a social media but not questioning it. After she had taken enough pictures of both her and your orders, the two of you started on your treats, she took a long sip from her latte and when she placed it back down on the table, she had suddenly grown a distinguished mustache made of foam. It made you smile so hard your cheeks hurt, trying to keep your laugher a courteous volume to the other patrons was exceedingly difficult as she didn’t seem to notice her new facial accessory and was looking at you very confused. In spite of your shakes of laughter you managed to raise a shaky hand to point at your upper lip, signaling to her what you had found so funny. She raised a finger to her top lip, touching the foam and then pulled it back to see what was on her face. Realizing what she had done, her face blushed a warm pink as she quickly grabbed her napkin to wipe it away. You had finally calmed down and noticed that she had missed a little bit on the far edge.

“Nejire, you still have some,” you told her and pointed on yourself where it was on her, picked the napkin back up and scrubbed at her face, but on the wrong side.

“No, other side,” you specified. She again rubbed at her face with the now crumpled napkin but somehow still managed to miss the small smudge of foamed milk.

Not thinking, you rose and leaned across the table, before wiping the white away with your thumb. You sat back down, and without a thought in your head, licked it off of your thumb. 

You noticed her face flush, even more than before, now a hot red; you realized the suggestiveness of what you had just done, and at the same time, felt an explosion of butterflies manifest themselves into your gut. 

She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, looking down with a slight smile on her face, and you reddened. 

The two of you sat in silence for a while before she broke it.

“Do you think I’m pretty?”

You didn’t think before you responded.

“Yes.” You hesitated and then added on, “I think you’re really beautiful.”

The two of you fell back into silence.

The purgatory of not knowing how the two of you felt about each other was horrible, but the fear of rejection, not just of a confession but of you as a person, rejecting your identity, kept you in your place. 

There really was no winning.

Chorus 2- First Semester 3A

It hurt, seeing her every day, but not being able to talk to her about anything and everything in the way that you had grown used to. She was part of the big 3 now, she was revered by everyone now, she was strong and kind and smart and now they were all seeing what you had from the start. It was selfish of you, you knew, but you wish they hadn't noticed. 

She wasn’t being purposefully cruel in her withdrawal from you, she wasn’t doing it to be mean, she had just forgotten, she had just been stretched too thin and something had to go. It was still mean though, and it was still cruel.

You felt the loneliest now, so much so it was almost incomparable. Your days now spent in silence, and slowly falling into the motions. School, train, sleep, school, train, sleep, school, train, sleep. With nothing to break the monotony, life became dull, and you were sinking into a different kind of blue, not the blue of an eye like you did when you first saw Hado Nejire, but into the blue of the mind, getting darker, muddier, harder to see what’s in front of you. 

You became more reckless, not in retaliation but due to a slow building and concerning lack of self-preservation. Often throwing yourself into dangerous positions with villains, jumping solo into fights, you had no probability of winning alone, asking for more and more hours at your internship. It kept it at bay for a little while, the numbness, but as with most things, it did not last. You feared you were slowly but surely becoming a shell of your former self.

You needed something more, you needed to keep yourself feeling, needed to keep yourself human, needed to keep yourself. So, you resorted to means you probably shouldn’t have. Flame, blade, burns, blood. You knew it wasn’t healthy, but it was something. 

On an especially hot September day it was odd to see students wearing their long-sleeved winter uniforms, but not enough to raise many questions. One girl asked, “Aren’t you hot?”, but you brushed it off, explaining that you just ran cold. A bold-faced lie to anyone who knew you, but none of them did. 

As you were working on your lesson book, Hado Nejire walked past your desk on her way to the front of the room, glancing down at you, maybe out of habit, she got a glance of lines of damaged skin, some already faded, but many varying degrees of red. She faltered in her step, double taking, confused as to what she was seeing. Not wanting to cause a scene in class or be caught staring, she almost seamlessly continued walking, and if one hadn’t been watching her, they wouldn’t have noticed her split second reel.

She stopped you by the door after class, and when you tried to scoot by her, thinking she wasn’t aware she was in the doorway, she blocked its entirety with her body, staring you down. She grabbed you by the hand and led you to an unused stairwell as you stumbled behind her hastened pace. You didn’t notice it at the time, but she was especially careful when grabbing you, fearing that she would take hold somewhere that would cause you pain, fearing to reopen possible wounds.

 There was a furrow in your brow as you looked at her, wordlessly questioned why she had dragged you there. She turned your arm over, her hand still holding yours, and gently raised your crisp white sleeve, a gasp of dismay escaping her lips as her eyes raked over your battered arm. She dropped your hand only to quickly grab your other one, pulling the sleeve of that arm up too. You were watching her face as she grit her teeth at the sight, her eyebrows pushed into an expression you didn’t know, one you had never seen before even after all the years you had known her. Her head turned and her eyes met yours, weirdly, you thought, they were filled with tears. 

“Why?”

This pushed some button you did not know you had, and an unexpected, hot rage filled you. 

“What do you mean, Hado?” you did not spit her name, but she flinched as if it was filled with venom.

“Y/n…” she trailed off. You remained silent, seething. 

“This isn’t like you, why would you do this?” 

You didn’t answer her for a long time before sighing, “You wouldn’t know Hado, you haven’t spoke to me in well over 5 months.”

“I’m sorry, I-” her words almost a whimper, but you interrupted her. 

“Please, don’t. I don’t think I can stomach it Hado, I think, whatever you’re going to say next, will only make things worse.”

She clamped her mouth shut, her lips in a pale line, and nodded tearfully, before choking out an “okay”. 

Things didn’t change much after that, though she was more watchful of you, you could, at times, feel her eyes boring into you from across the classroom or training halls and fields, and you started feeling a little different, slowing down in your efforts to drive away the numbness, as the numbness seemed to seep away from you. Less and less, you found yourself feeling as if there was nowhere else to go with a knife in your grasp. 

You also no longer prayed that she would make time for you, disillusioning yourself, and realizing that she was not perfect, though feelings as strong as yours don’t just simply disappear due to disillusionment. 

Verse 3- Third Semester 3A

Her hair had been burnt off, now in a blunt bob, and what once had been marred and blistered skin was now just slightly tinged pink. It still hurt you to see though, quietly observing. She was different now, bolder, more self-assured, Maybe, you mused, something had been burnt off along with her hair. You were different now too though, you were better. You had sought counseling, speaking to the trusted hero you were interning under, and they helped you find and utilize resources to mitigate your mental health. You felt lighter, you were still lonely, but you were now a little bit more at peace with your solitude, and less afraid to put yourself out there, slowly becoming friends with the sidekicks at your internship who were just a couple years your senior. 

Chorus 3- After Graduation

Sometimes you would see her on TVs in coffee shops, or in ads in magazines, though if you looked you could find yourself too, maybe not as often, but still there. Both of you were making a name for yourselves in the hero world. 

You had started dating a pretty sidekick from your agency, she was one of the first people you had befriended when you started putting in the effort to get better, she had been there for you through many bad nights, and many more good ones. You really, truly loved her. And yes, sometimes you would miss your first love, but not in a way of current longing, but for a past. You would never leave your girlfriend though, even if you got the chance to go back, even if they told you everything would turn out the way you had begged and hoped and dreamt. Those were no longer your dreams. 

It was in line at a coffee shop that you ran into her. She looked nice, more mature, gracefully slipping into her early 20’s, face less youthful, but still bright with a smile. 

The two of you chatted as you waited for your orders to be taken, and continued afterwards, as you waited for them to be made. 

She was direct in her flirting, touching your arm, complementing you, laughing a little too much at things that weren’t that funny. You did not reciprocate. 5 years ago, if she had been doing what she was doing now, you would have been over the moon, indescribably happy, but now, you didn’t feel much of anything at all. You were flattered, maybe a bit annoyed, but the feelings were so watered down, so muted that you could barely describe them as anything. You were happy to talk to an old friend though. 

“We should hang out some time,” she told you after your orders had been picked up from the counter and the two of you started towards the front doors, “go on a little afterschool date like we used to.” She smiled and winked.

You politely smiled back at her and opened your mouth to reply, when your phone started going off, the ring tone you had affectionately assigned to your girlfriend, playing. 

“Oh, sorry it’s my girlfriend, let me answer real quick,” not waiting for a response from Nejire, you picked up the phone.

“Hey love, what’s up?” You inquired through the phone.

“Are you almost home yet?”

“Yeah, I just picked up your coffee from the coffee place two blocks down.”

“Oh yay! Thank you baby, see you soon, I love you.”

“I love you too.” 

You ended the call and turned towards Nejire apologetically, “Sorry about that!”

You exited the shop, Nejire holding the door open for you, and stood next to her on the sidewalk, close to the building and out of the way. 

“Oh!” you realized you hadn’t answered her question yet, “yeah, it would be nice to hang out and catch up.” This time, hangout had no hidden meanings or crossed fingers. It was purely platonic. “I miss you,” she confessed. Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, you were really never expecting her to say that. 

“I guess things ended up differently, not the way I wanted I mean.” she clarified. “It’s hard seeing you in the news, or in my fashion magazines, but not being able to see you in person anymore. I just… miss you a lot y/n, even though you’ve not gone anywhere.”

You hmm and nod, “you’re right, I haven’t gone anywhere. That was you, Hado Nejire. I’m proud of you, you're becoming a great hero.” You smiled at her softly. She stood, unmoving, looking at you, maybe waiting for something more, but you were no longer the person who would be able to provide that.

“Well, I need to get going before all this ice melts,” you shook the iced coffee in your hands, “or my girlfriend will have my head.”

“Oh, uh, okay” she stammered. 

“Message me! My numbers still the same, if you still have it. You could meet my girlfriend too, I think you’d like her, she’s amazing.”

Nejire nodded, watching your figure as you walked away, bitter jealousy and remorse making their home in her sour stomach.

Hi! I know it may seem like I am romanticizing self-harm in this but I promise I am not. As it is something I have struggled with for many years I am just reflecting my own struggles and thoughts, and trying to represent a mental illness as what it is. That doesn't mean it is something you should do, and if you struggle with it and are tempted after reading, here are some healthier alternatives. Please do not hurt yourselves, lovelies.

sentinel prime being crushed by a piano. request from discord