#fatphobia lies | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

usedtobecooler · 2 years

Text

the sex is good | fboy!eddie munson x fem!reader

Pairing | Eddie Munson x chubby/plus size Fem!Reader

Warnings | sexual content 18+ minors dni, unprotected piv sex, oral f receiving, oral m receiving, praise kink, slight degradation, possessiveness, multiple orgasms, alcohol use, drug use, minor fatphobia. fboy!eddie and his shithead friends.

Word Count | 3.7k (sorry)

A/N | fboy!eddie haunts my dreams, this ones for you @newlips

He’s been watching you slinking around Rick’s house all night, hips swaying and ass jiggling with every step — and he wants you. So fucking bad his cock is throbbing already, just thinking about getting you on your knees for him. He’s never seen you around, and you’re like nothing he’s seen before.

You’re overdressed for such a small party, sure. A midnight green satin dress cinching your waist in, tits spilling out the low neck, thick thighs rubbing together as you sway on your feet. Your hair fans over your shoulders, cascades down your back in effortless curls. You’re giggling, laughing at something your leggy blonde friend has said, nude glossy lips smacking together.

“Dude, you could do so much better,” The voice is off to the side of him, he doesn’t even care who it is that’s talking because they’re lying, tonight he wants you and in his eyes you’re the best thing there, “Carol is literally right there, Eddie. Have you seen her ass in those jeans?”

“If you think she looks so good, why don’t you go fuck her?” Eddie snarks, not once taking his eyes off of you. He doesn’t mean that, and his friend knows it too — he may not want Carol tonight, but she was his, too. Anybody lay hands on her and they’d know about it.

Eddie’s eyebrows furrow as Harrington makes an appearance from behind the doorway, two red solo cups in hand as he flashes a glint of pearly white teeth at you and your friend, offering the cups out. Eddie watches as you flush red at the attention, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, thanking Steve when he hands over the alcohol.

He doesn’t like it. The way Harrington’s clearly flirting with you, bumping his shoulder into yours as you laugh together like he just said the funniest shit ever. He shouldn’t have been shocked, Steve was always competition for him.

“Fuck it,” Eddie mutters to himself, finally having enough of the exchange going on right in front of his eyes, clambering off of the couch and slapping his friends knee in the process, “If it’s that easy for Harrington to charm the pants off of her, this should be a walk in the fucking park.”

“I don’t think you have to worry about that, Eddie. She’ll be happy to have the attention,” One of his goons pipes up from the other side, resulting in a less than subtle middle finger raised in his direction.

Eddie didn’t discriminate when it came to women — he loved them all. Chubby or thin, tall or short, big tits or little tits, he didn’t care. If you were hot, you were hot.

And you absolutely were, just what he needed on this particular night. And he loved the thrill of chasing new tail, which was adding to his overall attraction to you.

It’s almost like God is on his side, when Steve leans down to peck you on the cheek lightly before bidding you and your friend goodbye. Eddie hides the clench of his jaw, knowing that regardless of how Steve touched or kissed you, he was gone now and out of the picture for the foreseeable. Leaving you wide open for him to pounce in and make his move.

“Oh for God sake,” Your friend rolls her eyes, utter disgust in her voice, folding her arms over her chest when he arrives at your side, “Hey, Eddie. This is —”

“The hottest babe in this place,” Eddie cuts her off, winking at you. He looks at you unabashedly, drinking you in with heavy eyes full of clear lust. You fluster under his gaze — he’s very intimidating. He’s clearly very sure of himself.

You blush, flipping your hair over your shoulder and fanning your face with your perfectly manicured nails. You were even better up close, plump lips in a constant pout, eyes sultry behind the dark makeup. The satin of your dress hugged to the curve of your belly cutely, cinching in your waist enough to have your plump frame shaped slightly more hourglass than usual.

Your friend blinks at you slowly, eyeing you both before making her decision, “I’m gonna go find Rick, see you bozos later.”

“I thought she’d never leave,” Eddie’s voice has a mocking, sarcastic tone behind it as he speaks. He takes her place, standing in front of you, only closer, enough so that his whisky laced breath fans your face — he pouts, “I don’t think your friend likes me very much.”

“She did warn me that you might be here,” You laugh, taking a sip of your drink, grimacing at the bitter aftertaste the tequila leaves behind on your tongue, “I was told before I came here to watch out for you, I’ve heard you’re bad news around these parts.”

“Aw sweetheart, m’not bad news. I just like to fuck and it kinda gets me in trouble,” He says it like it’s just that easy and it shocks you, how open and bold he is.

You school your face, “Ah, so that’s what you’ve slid over here for? In hopes of getting in my panties? And here I was, thinking you wanted to make friends.”

“Was it not obvious?” Eddie replies smoothly, slowly backing you up until you’re flush against the wall with nowhere to go — he towers over you, a hand coming out so he can brace himself against the drywall.

You glance to the side, taking in the sight of his thick fingers clad in harsh rings quickly before allowing your eyes to settle heavily on his own for the first time, properly taking in his appearance.

He’s hot, but you’re aware he already knows that himself. Looks like he stepped out of an ‘80s rock mag with the shaggy haircut, a scruffy beard, tattoos lacing his neck in harsh splatters of black and grey. He has a lip ring, tugs on it between his teeth — it makes your cunt flutter, and you have to clench your thighs together to relieve the throb of your clit, suddenly all too aware of your own arousal.

“I mean, I’m flattered really,” You smile sweetly and put on your best doe eyes, not letting on for even a second that you’re interested, “I was kinda hoping Steve would come back, though. He’s real cute, and I’ve heard he’s got a big dick. I wanna see what the fuss is about.”

Eddie narrows his eyes at you, a flash of annoyance swiping his features, “Harrington has all the equipment and doesn’t know what to do with it, sweetheart. You’re not missing out on much.”

Lies. Lies. Lies. But he can’t have you slithering from his grasp, not now that he’s actually had to put some fucking effort in when there are at least ten other chicks in this house who would fuck him without a second thought.

“Aw, I’m disappointed,” You pout, jutting out your glossed bottom lip, pretending like you even believed a word of what he just said, “Take me somewhere and show me a good time then, Munson. I’m bored of this back and forth.”

His hands are everywhere on you the second he kicks the door shut with his boot, crowding up into your body and gripping at your waist, fingertips squeezing the doughy flesh, “Let me show you how I fuck, babe. Swear you’ll never so much as think about any other cock again.”

You’re hazy from the alcohol, trying to keep your face neutral, but clearly even you aren’t immune to Eddie’s charm. Not now that his big palms are engulfing you and making you feel tiny, his lips almost brushing your own as he invades your space. A small whimper escapes your lips before you can even stop it.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Eddie grins, backing you up against the bed until the backs of your knees are knocking the edge. His left hand slides along the soft satin of your dress, gliding down your back and pulling the material up along with his wandering fingers. Leaving your ass bare for grabbing — which he does, taking a large handful of your supple fat and squeezing tightly, pulling you flush to him.

“Is that a gun in your pants or are you just happy to see me?” You joke, though your voice quivers from the nerves, a gasp leaving you when you feel the hard outline of his cock pressing into your lower belly.

Eddie rolls his eyes, slapping his hand down on your ass and earning a quiet moan from you, the same hand coming back to soothe the stinging skin just as quickly, “That smart mouth needs shutting up before it gets you in trouble, sweetheart.”

You pull a face and oh, he doesn’t like that. Something darkens behind Eddie’s eyes as he pushes you back onto the mattress, knocking the breath out of your lungs and startling you slightly.

His wandering hands roughen slightly as he rucks up the material of your dress up the pudge of your belly, dropping to his knees on the hardwood floor, spreading your thighs and pulling your panties to the side.

Eddie buries his face into your pussy, the burn of his harsh stubble on your sensitive folds a surprisingly pleasurable feeling. You’re shocked — never in your life had a man like Eddie ever been known for eating pussy, yet here he was, tongue slithering out and lapping at your wet hole.

“Oh fuck, Eddie,” You whimper, fingers winding tightly in the sheets as he licks at your slit with the flat of his tongue, pointing it when he reaches your clit, flicking the sensitive nub hard.

One of his hands grips at the meat of your thigh to keep your legs spread, the other lays flat over the bump of your tummy to hold you down, stop you from bucking up off of the mattress and away from the pleasure of his tongue.

You can’t hold back your moans as he goes down on you with ridiculous enthusiasm, finding a perfect rhythm almost immediately — like he knows your body and knows what you want without even having to try. He maps you out quickly, figures you like your clit being sucked, his tongue sliding into the tight heat of your cunt.

“Shit, shit,” You tremble, eyes watering as your hips twitch up into Eddie’s mouth, unable to help it. He doesn’t stop you either, buries his face in even deeper and suckles at your clit harder. You slide a hand into his hair tentatively and he keens into it, lets you drag your fingers through his tresses and tug lightly.

He moans into the heat of your cunt, the vibrations catching you off guard and dragging you towards the edge ridiculously quickly. “Eddie, m’gonna cum,” You warn, tugging his hair harder as the winding in your tummy builds.

Your orgasm crescendos, deafening in your ears as your tummy coils and unravels just as quickly, a gush of slick spilling from your fluttering hole and making a mess of Eddie’s mouth and chin. He laps it up like a man starved, pushing his face even tighter into your pussy to get every last bit.

You can barely comprehend what’s happening as you shiver through it, body going limp and floppy as Eddie sucks your clit as a final act, before leaning back on his haunches and slapping your inner thigh.

“Up on the bed and on all fours, now,” Eddie commands, and you do as you’re told, flipping onto all fours and arching your back for him. Your tits spill out of your dress at this angle, tight nipples sliding teasingly against the material of the comforter beneath you.

You hear him unbuckling his belt, and you can’t help the way the nerves wrack through your body in anticipation. You can’t see anything from this angle, can only hear as his clothes hit the floor and feel as the bed dips under the weight of him pushing between your legs. He pulls your panties even further to the side, completely soaked in your cum, snagging the head of his cock along your cunt, getting himself wet with your slick.

He slides into the tight heat of your pussy with minimal resistance, bottoming out with a grunt. You wiggle your hips, a shaky breath escaping your lips as you try to adjust to the size of his cock — he’s really big, bigger than you anticipated, fitting snug in your walls. Your cunt flutters and he hisses, gripping onto your hip tight;

“Don’t do that shit,” Eddie scolds, punching his hips forward and knocking the breath out of you. His ego won’t let him admit that the tightness of your pussy is getting the better of him, and has him close to his release embarrassingly fast.

“Y’can move,” You whine, desperate to feel him split you apart from the inside. He doesn’t hesitate for even a second, sliding out of you almost fully and immediately sliding back in, ripping an erratic moan from your open mouth. You grasp at the sheets tightly, arching your back for him, “Fuck, you’re so big.”

“You’re tight,” Eddie comments, voice barely wavering as he builds a brutal pace, rolling his hips into the flesh of your ass. Your needy cunt sucks him in with every harsh slap of his hips, and you squirm under the grip, cheeks flushing with every slick noise your pussy makes, “Fuckin’ takin’ it like a good girl.”

You cry out, the praise unexpected. For once, you’re at a loss for words, unable to comprehend anything or feel anything other than Eddie’s bruising grip on your hips and his cock splitting you open. You push back into his next thrust, losing yourself in the feeling.

“Oh shit, just like that,” Eddie grunts, choking on his own tongue as you throw your ass back on him, the slap of skin on skin suddenly deafening in your ears. He grabs a handful of your left cheek, squeezing before he’s slapping his hand down on the rippling flesh, eliciting a whimper from you, “You like that, don’t you sweetheart?”

“Fuckin’ love it,” You cry — you can feel your velvet walls hugging the sheer girth of him so well that every pulse of his cock is easily made out. You’re being stretched so far, yet the initial burn turned pleasurable at an alarming rate, his blunt head gliding along the soft bump of your frontal wall making you dizzy, a deep heat blooming in your belly.

“Can feel you squeezing my cock, baby,” You can hear the grin in his voice, and you can’t even find it in your to be annoyed as you hurtle towards your release fast, “Y’gonna soak me in your cum?”

That’s what does it for you — your entire body dissolving into pleasure as your climax wracks through you, a high-pitched cry spilling from your lips. Your hips stutter as your walls flutter uncontrollably, Eddie’s cock fucking you through it. You feel your cum drool from you, slicking down your mound and making everything impossibly wetter.

“There she is, fuckin’ soaking for me,” Eddie guffaws, cock slipping out momentarily from the sheer slick of your pussy. He grabs hold of himself by the base once more, pushing back into your spasming walls and punching a moan from you.

You go limp after that, pushing your face into the pillow and letting Eddie use you, his grunts filling the air. You need to get up before he gets bored, the little voice in the back of your head niggles at you to do it.

“Pull out, need to taste your cock,” You mumble, drunk and fucked out on the sheer girth of Eddie’s cock fucking you. You’re sensitive, legs quivering and trying to close on their own, and you know you can’t handle much more.

Eddie doesn’t argue, thrusting into the tight heat of your cunt once more before he’s sliding out with a slight hiss — he could never say no to a girl willingly wanting to blow him.

It also meant there was absolutely zero chance of a pregnancy scare. It was a win-win in his book.

You maneuver yourselves until he’s sitting back against the pillows, you perched prettily on your knees between his spread legs. He’s littered in tattoos, covering most of his body, and it makes the pretty pink of his cock stand out even more when it’s flush against the porcelain and black.

You grasp a hold of the thick base in your hand, working your hand up and down slowly, using your own cum as lube. The extra glide from his foreskin helps too, and you suddenly can’t help but wish every man you’d ever been with was uncut — it was just so pretty.

“You don’t mind, do you?” Eddie asks, looking barely bothered by your hands on him as he produces a tin from the bedside drawer, a pre-rolled joint and a lighter inside. You shrug, too busy working up his cock to care about it.

You feel dumb — he’s left you in an absolute mess.

Vaguely aware of a lighter clicking in the background, you lean down and engulf the head of Eddie’s cock in the tight wetness of your mouth, tongue slithering over the slit, cheeks hollowing as you slide down further.

“That’s it sweetheart, you’re fucking filthy,” Eddie almost sounds impressed, watching behind hazy eyes as he takes a drag of his joint, fingers running through your hair and massaging your scalp, gently guiding you down, “You can take more, right?”

You take that as a challenge, relaxing so you can sink down lower, spit spilling from the corners of your mouth, sputtering on your mouthful when the head finally hits the back of your throat.

“Look at me,” Eddie commands, grunting and tugging your tresses between his fingers until your watery eyes are sparkling open. His own orbs are almost black as he watches you with pure lust — his stomach jolts as your glossy lips leave behind pink rings on his cock, “You’re such a pretty mess for me, sweetheart.”

You keen into the praise, sinking down the last of the way until your lips hit your fist. You alternate between sucking and bobbing your head with Eddie’s guidance, relishing in every little moan and whimper you’re punching out of him. He doesn’t give much away, but you can feel his hips growing restless, kicking up slightly.

He smokes away languidly as you absolutely fucking devour his cock — and then something unexpected happens. Eddie hits your gag reflex and your throat closes around your mouthful, squeezing his cock so tight that he’s choking out a deep growl, hips fucking up into your mouth harshly.

“That’s it, baby, taking me like a fuckin’ champ,” Eddie’s voice drips in arousal, and almost a hint of pride there too — no girl had ever been able to take so much of him at once without zero issue, and it was sending him hurtling towards the edge faster than he’d like to admit.

Your nails dig into the meat of his thigh, trying to ground yourself as he completely loses it and uses your mouth. You keep your eyes on him fully, crying around his girth and moaning, hand jerking what little of him is left — you can feel his salty release sliding down your throat and you know he’s close now.

He watches you with hazy eyes, hand fisted tightly in your hair and keeping you pushed down until you’re spluttering so much your throat is spasming around him, “Fuck, babe. M’gonna cum, you gonna let me blow my load in your pretty little mouth?”

You whine around your mouthful, feeling your spit spill from the edges of your stretched lips uncontrollably as he uses you, hips jerking into your mouth, speeding up as he reaches the edge. You nod, swallowing around his cock until he’s grunting.

“Yeah?” Eddie’s grinning, brings the joint to his lips to take another hit — and then you do something completely out of left field, ghosting your fingertips over the taut skin of his balls. He pushes you down onto his cock with a harsh hand, “You’re making me — oh fuck, fuckfuckfuck.”

The thick ropes of his cum fill your mouth at an alarming rate, gagging you in the process as you’re kept in place with a harsh hand and spasming hips. You watch behind tear clouded eyes, a deep heat in your belly as you watch Eddie’s eyes roll into the back of his head, tummy clenching as he just keeps cumming.

Eddie eventually lets you come up for air when you start to slap at his leg, desperately sucking in a breath through your nose. He actually almost looks apologetic when you finally slide off of his flaccid length, swiping at your soaked chin. You know your makeup is ruined now, there’s no way you can return to the party.

“Get yourself cleaned up, sweetheart. I’ll take you back to your little friend and she can take you home, yeah?” He speaks nonchalantly, stubbing out the end of the joint on the corner of the bedside table and leaving the butt behind.

You scoff, rolling your eyes — not even so much as a ‘thanks, bud’, in return for what clearly was the best blowjob of his fucking life, given the state of his reaction to it, “I can make my own way back downstairs, don’t need you to chaperone me, Eddie.”

Eddie chuckles darkly, bending over the side of the bed to retrieve his strewn clothes, “Oh baby, I know. But if I take you then I know you’re not gonna end up with Harrington — you know you can’t fuck him now, right?”

prick #1: ur girl from ricks is fuckin harrington bro

prick #1: he just came in here sayin shes got REAL good pussy

prick #1: does he kno u fucked???

Eddie seethes as he reads the texts, slamming a hand down on his steering wheel in anger, nostrils flaring.

He thought his words made it pretty crystal fucking clear — you were his girl now, didn’t you know that?!

His fingers fly across the screen as he types furiously. You didn’t give him your number, but your friend was happy enough to hand it over not even a day after the party. She was stupid for that, really.

get dressed and be ready in ten. don’t even try to play dumb you know who this is.

You needed to be reminded who you belonged to.

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #newlipsmilestoneoflove #x reader #my fanfic #my work #mine

3K notes · View notes

missredherring · 6 months

Text

Hungry Eyes

Lucien Flores x Fat Female Reader

Rating: M

Word Count: 440

Summary: Lucien thinks he probably gets to fuck you in that light. The lucky bastard.

Contents: Ex lovers. Allusions to internalized fatphobia. Mentions of past sex. Smoking. Yearning.

A/N: I can't resist this man and his big doe eyes and I'm ok with that.

This doesn't contain any spoilers for The Uninvited.

Tagging some who might be interested: @boliv-jenta @ezrasbirdie @psychedelic-ink @covetyou @janaispunk @swiftispunk @undercoverpena @perotovar @oonajaeadira

Not beta read, as the shower oracle intended.

You look beautiful tonight.

You always look pretty, gorgeous, sexy, slutty, cute. His favorite look of yours is when you're sweaty, covered in cum with a dazed look on your face, but tonight is something different and this look is gunning for first place.

The hanging lights strung around the backyard give you a glow. It's not as bright as the glow of confidence you're giving off though. You could be the subject of a portrait of wealth and prosperity that old masters were paid handsomely for.

Your dress is more revealing than anything he's seen you wear when you were together. You'd allowed a peak of your decolletage before, but this plunging neckline makes his mouth water.

The construction doesn't hide or distract the eye from what lies beneath, but accentuates and flatters it. The heavy swell of your belly hangs between your wide hips and your hands are relaxed, gesturing as you talk with your guests, instead of plucking at the fabric to pull it away and obscure your shape.

A man Lucien's seen orbiting around you comes to your side and hands you a drink. He's closer to you than is polite, leaning into your personal space to kiss your temple, your cheek, and then the round double chin just under your jaw. You tip your head back to give him better access and flash him a smile when he moves back. His hand travels up the curve of your ass to your waist and you don't look around to see who could be watching when his hand rests on the rolls of skin on your torso, fingers cupping there and thumb swiping over the roll where your bra band sits and drives you nuts because there isn't one on the other side and the band on the smoother side rolls up throughout the day.

You don't shy away from his touch in front of others.

He takes another drag, the taste of the cigarette reminding him of how you'd wrinkle your nose when you’d kiss him right after he'd been smoking. It's another bad habit he's quit, but tonight he's filling his lungs and using the burning paper as an excuse to linger at the party. Giving him more time to study your Mona Lisa smile from across the yard.

Do you still have that bedside lamp that threw soft light over you, that made him itch to explore you with his hands, his mouth, his dick, anything you’d allow, but you'd click it off just as he was opening your legs?

Lucien thinks he probably gets to fuck you in that light. The lucky bastard.

#lucien flores x fat female reader #lucien flores x fat reader #lucien flores x female reader #lucien flores x reader #x reader #the uninvited fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction

148 notes · View notes

n-00-nes · 5 months

Text

The voluptuous hourglass figure preferred by so many men is a well-known stereotype, but oddly excluded from magazines and media that address the topic of fashion and beauty for women. The narrow and skinny ideal that replaces it is both less attainable and less attractive.

Some women feel compelled to make excuses for the errors of the beauty industry. It's Stockholm syndrome. They claim a boyish figure is what women really want, and that rail-thin models are necessary to put clothes on display effectively. These defenses are absurd

A real ad for women's clothing. Competing with other women to achieve a fashionable appearance nobody actually likes will only bring sorrow.

It's a verifiable fact that most influential fashion designers aren't attracted to women. It would be unreasonable to assume this has no impact on their tastes, and also unreasonable to assume their tastes have no influence on their work.

The claim that designers choose models who resemble boys because "they're like walking coat hangers and better for showing off women's clothing" is already implausible at first blush. There's simply no reason women's clothes would look better on hangers than on women's bodies unless they're not properly designed for women's bodies. And there's no non-laughable excuse for standardizing female models' measurements to match those of male teenagers.

“They might seem like unusual measurements, but we're forced to standardize our models to 40-24-40. Otherwise we'd have to custom tailor all the clothes, and it'd be impossible to run fashion shows at a cost the impoverished women who buy designer dresses can afford.”

The deeper you look, the more farfetched the stock defenses sound. Indeed, they're exactly the kind of lies you'd tell if you wanted to remove the female form from the runway. When you trust male gays over the male gaze, you should expect to be misled in particular ways. It's not that they want to turn women into men in order to sleep with them, but that their instincts draw them away from truly feminine proportions rather than toward them.

Women's fashion is dominated by designers who prefer the male body to the female body. The list may be long, but it's far from exhaustive.

The images below reveal a double standard. While male models have pronounced masculine sexual traits, female models have diminished feminine sexual traits. In other words, designers promote men who look like men, and women who look like (or are) boys. What's most astonishing is that they've convinced the public to swallow this.

Left: a typical male model for a top fashion designer. Right: the same top fashion designer's boyfriend

Left: A typical female model for the same fashion designer. Right: a glamour model with prominent feminine sexual characteristics. The two men above match. So why don't these women?

https://www.jsanilac.com/dispelling-beauty-lies/

#dispelling beauty lies #women #gay #gay fashion #hourglass #glamour model #body positivity #body positive #health at every size #fat positive #fat shaming #fat acceptance #fat activism #fat pride #anti fat acceptance #anti fat activism #fatphobia #fatshion

8 notes · View notes

the-stars-in-your-eyes-if · 8 months

Text

☀︎NO DEMO YET☀︎ PLAYLIST ☀︎

☀︎SYNOPSIS☀︎

Your childhood friend has always dreamed of the big scene, of the crowd singing your lyrics, of a world tour. Max always wanted for your bands to succeed together. Until...

Well, it is was all a big stupid joke.

The real world caught up to you: you are no longer the naive child you once were. Writing a Grammy worthy album isn’t as easy as it seems and the big scene is nowhere to be seen. You navigate through life as you can, you party with your friends every Saturday and write music all week. You enjoy each one of your gigs – big and small. Your burning love for music doesn’t seem to fade. Your band brought together a solid community that crosses borders. You have fun with your band and it’s all that matter.

But you can’t help but fantasize that, someday, you’ll be at the top of the world…

Big stupid joke, right?

✮BATTLE OF THE BANDS IS BACK!✮

You thought 2020 was the end of us, uh?

You couldn’t be more wrong!

The worldwide known music contest is finally back!

We carefully chose the mentors of our beloved participants. This year will be all pink…

Make way for Pink Riot!!!

Application open to foreigners (check our website)

RATED +18

TW: explicit language, (occasional) violence, transphobia (one character is misgendered but just in one scene), use of alcohol and drugs, (soft) sexual content, parental abuse (flashback), depression, self-harm (warning will be in the "next" button), mention of suicide (same as self-harm)

☀︎FEATURES☀︎

– Customize your MC’s appearance and personality. You decide of their public image and persona.

– Your choices will define your band’s public image and popularity. Are they loved? Do they make underground or mainstream music? Are they the parents’ worst nightmare? The reference of rebellious kids?

– Decide your band’s aesthetic. Do they have one to begin with? Or do they each dress in their own style?

– Write your own lyrics!

– Engage in romantic affairs…

– ...or don’t, your choice!

– Are you going to help the people that cross your path or do you only care about yourself?

☀︎A BIT OF CONTEXT☀︎

Of course, this story is set on Earth.

But.

Racism, sexism, homophobia, transphobia, islamophobia, antisemitism and fatphobia will get you in court.

You are not very well seen if you do one of those things and, if you’re a celebrity/politician/public figure, it can (and will) ruin your career.

I know that this isn’t realistic at all but I need to believe that, one day, this will be real. My characters have and will go through enough trauma and bad moments, I want to give them some peace.

And it feels really good to make a world where those things will ruin the oppressor and not the oppressed.

☀︎ROs☀︎

THE HERMIT — Diesel Di Angelo (they/them)

Diesel is the soul of the band, they bring a sort of osmosis. Their calm energy somehow has a place on stage and is liked by everyone.

Diesel took their first steps in the music world with Max and MC. It was just the three of them before the band grew bigger. Diesel is a talented guitarist, they worked hard to get where they are and they don’t stop improving. They are quite reserved and don’t talk about their feelings… Who knows what lies beneath their shell?

THE MISCHIEVOUS DRUMMER — Roman Lupin (he/him)

If MC is the backbone of the band, Roman is its beating heart. He has no problem to make the public jump from the back of the stage. He’s a spark that will light a bonfire.

Roman learned to play drum from his mother. He went to the conservatory but he didn’t stuck with it. Since a young age, Roman wants to have a band and to perform all around the world. Roman is full of life and he’s the human version of a sunshine. Is there something behind that smile or is he genuinely happy?

THE LITTLE MERMAID — Isra Wafa (she/they)

Isra brings magic to the band. Her mermaid low voice is unique and enchants the public. If you think you’ve heard good bass players, just wait until you see Isra on stage.

When Isra was a child, their parents let them chose an instrument to learn and to their surprise, she chose the bass. They fell in love with this low instrument. They navigated from band to band before settling for this band her boyfriend was part of. Isra keeps ignoring their responsibilities toward her family. For how long can they pretend it doesn’t exist?

THE REBEL ANGEL — Archibald “Archie” de Beaumont (they/he)

Even with a classical training, Archie managed to switch to their band’s genre without too much troubles. All the members affirm it: Archie is a gift from the universe.

Archie popped out of nowhere to audition to be the band’s keyboardist. He was the most talented person they saw all day and the chemistry was very much here. The band doesn’t know much about Archie, but it doesn’t matter. They are a good person and a dear friend. It wouldn’t change anything to learn about their life before the band. Right?

THE MANAGER — Cal Bremont (he/him)

Cal works in the shadow to make the band shines under the spotlight of the biggest stages. The band claims it, he is the best manager you could hope for.

Cal takes his job very seriously, he has a perfect work ethic. Maybe he is a bit too close to his clients and they may not just be clients… But, well, no one is complaining. Cal is very secretive about his personal life, he never mentioned his family or anything else. Can he maintain his relationship with his friends and still keep his life a mystery?

THE RISING STAR — Max Larash (she/her or they/them)

Max moved their band to the other side of the world and they managed to impose themselves on the west coast scene. We’ll keep an eye on them as they’ll compete against their former friends…

Because of artistic divergences, Max decided to leave the band when Isra and Roman joined them and they created their own band with high school friends. Max had big dreams for Sleep Walking and their friends in MC’s band, but it didn’t turn out as Max has hoped. Sleep Walking left the country for the USA without their friends and they intentionally lost all contacts with them…

THE MUSE — Olivia “Ollie” Madden (she/her)

You may have never see her face but, as a comics fan, Ollie Madden is a name far from unknown. None other than the comics artist and writer of the most followed comics, Ollie is still a mystery to her fans.

Olivia works for Blue Pegasus, a major comics book publisher, since years. She was the comics artist on a lot of books, it took her a lot of hard work to finally publish her own series. Olivia isn’t only a famous artist, she also is a single mother. She’s taking care of a lot by herself and it often leads to forget about herself. There is nobody to remind her she’s human and not a superhero…

THE PRINCESS — Katharina "Kat" Deluca (she/her)

We don’t need to present Katharina Deluca anymore. Success and awards seem to follow every movies our Lady K touched. She confessed that her break from the cameras and greens screens was to be present for her best friend… Athena Pierce.

Also known as the Princess, Katharina is one of the biggest actresses of her generation. Between two roles worthy of an Oscar, she is also a model and the face of the infamous designer brand: Beaumont-Griffin. She is in the industry since she was 12. But, behind closed doors, Kat doesn’t seem to have a joyful life… What is she hiding from the world?

GODDESS OF MUSIC — Athena Pierce (she/her)

Athena is a legend in the industry. Everybody wants to work with her and Pink Riot. Her voice will shatter your world, there is a before and an after Athena Pierce.

Athena is the lead singer and front woman of Pink Riot. She was a star child and charmed America with her angelic voice. But, with the creation of Pink Riot, Athena is no longer the little angel of the USA. She’s now known as a freaking rebel and she is quite provocative. She flirts with the limits all the time. Her persona is loved all around the world, but who is the real Athena?

☀︎CANON EVENTS☀︎

You can customize a lot of things regarding your MC and your band. But there are a few things that are canon.

— MC is born and lives in France. Where exactly is up to you. The only place MC can’t have grow up in is Paris. (I headcanon them growing up in Perpignan or Montpellier)

— The names of MC parents can’t be choose. I tried to make them as common as possible so you can choose their origins. MC is French but their parents can be from wherever you want!

— MC's age can’t be choose.

— MC is friends with Max and Diesel since they are 6. They were in school together.

— MC’s first band is with Max and Diesel.

— During high school, MC met Roman and Isra. They joined MC’s band but Max didn’t like the kind of music their band was into so they formed their own band with other high school friends (Sleep Walking).

— The OG band (MC-Max-Diesel) exist until the fateful break up.

— MC’s band and Sleep Walking always were there for each other and gave mutual support. They also create songs and musics together, some are only instrumental and other are with vocal.

— MC speaks French and English. Feel free to add a third and even a fourth language.

— MC lives with Isra and Roman since they finished high school.

#the stars in your eyes if #interactive fiction #interactive story #choice of games #if #if: intro #dashingdon

325 notes · View notes

thegoldencontracts · 5 months

Text

Okay weirdly tragic idea but I have to share, trigger warnings for fatphobia and bullying, eating disorder mentions

So, imagine: Azul is still chubby in Night Raven. Except, he isn't healing, or he hasn't managed to avoid the dreaded pull of self-loathing. He hates himself more than ever.

He's so pathetic he can't even lose the weight no matter how he tries. He's been able to do everything, except for this one simple thing.

And, of course, people mock him for it. Students constantly point out his weight. Most defiant students always go for his size before anything else.

(They never see the tears he begins to weep after a while, once even his own built-up resistance to insults stops sufficing.)

Even the Ramshackle Prefect insults his weight. Saying how he's just as greedy for food as he is for power, clearly. How they can't lose their friends to some land whale who thinks he's hot shit.

And then he overblots. The Prefect realizes how insecure he is about his weight. There is a moment in the museum where they attempt to comfort him about it, but it's to no avail. He knows their true feelings. These lies do nothing.

But then he loses weight. His overblot has completely drained him, after all. He can't eat for a good while. He feels horrible, really, but he's thin now. He's done it. People don't make fun of him anymore.

Jade and Floyd start to grow concerned when they notice his irritable state. But what's wrong? He's finally beautiful now! People take him seriously. He's worthy. He should be happier than ever!

Except he isn't. He's miserable, and desolate, and constantly empty. It's never thin enough. He's always too fat for himself.

And he knows the moment he slips even a bit, the moment he gains a bit of weight, they'll go back to their ridicule. Why wouldn't they? They've made it all too clear they only respect him when he's thin, pretty. His feelings don't matter. His efforts don't matter.

Azul Ashengrotto will only ever be treated well when he's skinny, when he's worthy. And he's learned that lesson all too well.

#azul ashengrotto #twisted wonderland #twst #twst azul #azul #disney twisted wonderland #twst scenarios #tw: eating disorder #tw: bullying

81 notes · View notes

dira333 · 5 months

Text

No Dating Allowed - Ginjima x Chubby! Reader

Words: 6k, angst to fluff

Warning: Fatphobia but not from the Inarizaki Volleyball team - Also the boys are idiots but they're teenagers so that's to be expected.

“You’re so fat. You’re like a cow. Mooo!” You duck your head at the comment, try to let it slide off you. It still hurts, even if your face doesn’t show. Crying only eggs them on.

“You wouldn’t be so fat if you actually participated in some sports.”

“Like any Club would take them in, she’s too fat to even be a manager.”

You can barely read the words in your book now, the letters blurred by unshed tears.

You don’t believe that what they’re saying is true. What they are saying is not true.

But it still hurts. Oh, does it hurt.

If only you could make them believe.

The idea is so bad you can’t believe you’re going through with it.

It won’t change anything.

If your classmates find out that you tried and failed, the bullying will surely get worse.

But still… what if it works out?

Your heart’s beating like a jackhammer in your chest as you approach the door of the third-year classroom. You’ve never been here before and you’re not sure how this is going to go, but you have to at least try, right?

“Can I help you?” A girl asks, her smile open and friendly.

You nod. “C-Can I… Can I talk to K-Kita-san for a… a minute?”

“Oh, sure. Stay right there… Kita-kun! There’s someone here for you.”

The decision to ask him first wasn’t made lightly. You don’t know much about Volleyball other than what you’ve seen during Gym Class. You don’t have to run around much - which you prefer - but you’re not good at jumping. But all the other Captains are way scarier than he is and when you’ve seen him around he’d always been surrounded by an air of calm indifference. If he doesn’t like you, he’ll at least be polite about it.

“Yes?” He’s tall, looming over you like an attractive shadow. You swallow thickly.

“I-I wanted to ask… if you needed… a manager? For Volleyball, I mean.”

Kita blinks.

“You’re a first-year, correct?”

You nod.

“How about we walk for a bit and talk about it?” He leads you down the hallway, away from the prying eyes of his classmates.

You’re not sure how he does it, but you find yourself talking, explaining, rambling at times about the reasons you have to ask. But when you bite your lip in panic, clearly having overshared, he just nods and urges you to go on.

“Practice is every day after school. When does your last bus leave?”

You look it up on your phone and he nods.

“It might happen that we train a little longer, especially the twins. Don’t let them rope you into staying longer. If you do have to stay longer for any reason, don’t hesitate to ask any of the boys to walk you home, okay?”

“O-okay.”

“Good. I have to get back to class now. I will see you after school. You can see if you like it and decide later.”

You nod, speechless. To say that this has gone better than expected would have been an understatement.

No one saw you change into your gym clothes in the bathroom and you’re thankful for that.

You’re not ready to let anyone from your class know you’re doing this, if ever.

Maybe that’s a bad idea, maybe that would make them see you differently, but with how things are going right now they might just use it as another way to bully you.

It’s so weird to approach the Gym alone. No one’s waiting outside and you panic a little.

Did you get the time wrong? But Kita said after school, right?

You rush to the door to find him in there with three other boys, all of them taller than you.

A dark-skinned boy spots you first.

“Hey!” He waves at you. “I’m Aran Ojiro. You must be the one who’s trying out for manager.”

You swallow hard. This is a try-out? Like a test? What if you fail?

As if reading your thoughts another boy steps forward, his face serious but his words kind.

“Don’t worry too much. Since you’re going to spend a lot of time with us we have to make sure you’ll feel comfortable doing so. You can try out what it would be like.”

“He’s Ōmimi, I’m Akagi,” the last one steps forward, shaking your hand eagerly, “It would be so cool to have a manager again and a cute one too!”

You shy away from his touch and step closer to Kita who simply nods in greeting.

“Aran will show you around and explain the basics to you. As soon as the whole team is here you will get to know them and the official training will start.”

You nod and follow Aran who explains everything thoroughly.

“Can I ask you something?” You speak up when he shows you where the water bottles are kept and how to fill them up and wash them after use.

“Of course.”

“Kita-san said you don’t have a manager yet. Why is that?”

“Well, Shiraishi graduated last year and after it became clear that Kita was going to become the Captain, he wanted to wait a bit before we got a new manager. I don’t know if you’re aware, but our setter is pretty popular with the girls and I guess Kita didn’t want us overrun with fangirls.”

“Why? Who is your setter?”

Aran stops and turns around. “You don’t know?”

You shake your head, already panicking. Should you know?

“Oh, Samu’s going to love this. Well, we’re finished here anyway, so let's go meet the rest of the team. Just a fair warning, they are a rather rowdy bunch.”

But as you step back into the Gym, the boys are sitting on the floor, quiet like mice.

Kita’s standing next to what must be the trainer and waves you over.

“I’m Kurosu Norimune, First Coach.” He shakes your hand with a smile as you whisper your name before he turns around and announces it loudly to the students.

Some of them nod and at least Aran and Akagi smile up at you.

A boy with light brown, messy hair looks up at you with wide eyes and you wonder what’s so surprising about you. Is it your height, or lack thereof, or your weight?

You swallow thickly and miss at least half of the introduction.

And after that, everything comes to life.

“Hi, I’m Ginjima,” his eyes are still wide, but he’s smiling, a light blush adorning his face. You take a step back and his brows furrow. “I didn’t want to scare you, I just wanted to ask if you want to help me get the ball cart in? That’s usually my job.”

“Oh, of course.” You nod and trod along, trying not to lose him in the bustle of boys running around, setting everything up.

A few minutes later you’re standing on the side and watching, trying to gather their names from when Coach is shouting at them.

“Stop playing around, Atsumu!” That’s the guy with blond hair.

“Osamu! That was also meant for you!” He’s got grey hair.

“You could have gotten that, Suna!” This one turns and looks over as if you’d said it instead of Coach. He looks tired, but at the same time, a little… mean?

Too soon it’s break time and they all gather around you, pulling water bottles from your hands.

“Hey, I know you!” You blink up at the guy but you can’t really place his face. “You’re in Class 5, right? I’m Riseki!” He holds out your hand like he wants a high five and you cautiously tap his hand, not sure if that’s what you’re supposed to do.

“You’re cute,” he says, grinning from one ear to the other. Ginjima clears his throat pointedly next to him and your eyes drop back to the floor and all the water bottles you still need to pass around. Right. Work.

As it turns out, being a manager is a lot more work than you thought it would be. But it’s also a lot less hard than your classmates made it look like. You could totally do this every day. And why shouldn’t you, if they let you? You usually don’t like the books Literature Club reads together and you’re handwriting is too awful for that Club.

“What do you think?” Kita asks as he shows you how to disinfect the Volleyball’s one after the other. “Do you want to continue?”

“If I’m allowed to?”

He smiles and you can’t help but smile back.

If you’d get to have an older brother, you’d want him to be like Kita.

- - - xxx - - -

Droplets of water run down his back. It tickles, but he cannot focus on that right now.

“Are you sure Kita said that?” Ginjima asks again, hands practically folded in front of him.

“Absolutely positive,” Akagi confirms, “As soon as she was out of sight, he told us that no one was going to be allowed to ask her out. I mean, he said that we couldn’t make her uncomfortable by any means, but you know Kita, that’s what he meant.”

“Yeah, but he didn’t say it like that.” Tsumu declares pointedly, slinging a sweaty arm around Ginjima’s shoulders. “And you’ve seen our dear Ginjima. He’s fallen for her, he’s a lost cause already.”

“Ah, shaddap.” He throws him off, but Samu’s already there. “Hi, I’m Ginjima!” he teases, voice high. They all laugh, but Ginjima can’t help that he’s blushing. Again.

“I want to make clear,” Kita starts the next time they’re all at the Gym, no sight of you, “That no one is going to ask our new Manager out. I am aware that this affects your private life outside of Volleyball, but we don’t want to make her uncomfortable. If you cannot focus on anything but her, you have nothing to do in this team anyway.”

Suna whistles low through his teeth. “Damn, do you want her for yourself?”

Kita stares at him instead of answering and Ginjima swallows thickly, pulling his head in. So much for a chance at love.

But still, he can’t help himself.

Just because he cannot ask you out doesn’t mean he can help you, right? Get to make you smile or even laugh, maybe?

“Here, let me help.” He’s got an eye out for you, making sure you don’t overdo it. “That’s too heavy for you anyway.”

“I’m stronger than I look.” You protest and he has to force himself to look away when you flex your arms. He’s a little jealous and a little thankful that he’s not seen you in your uniform yet. He’s not sure what he’ll do if he does. Probably have a spontaneous heart attack.

- - - xxx - - -

“Where are you going?” You freeze, even though you shouldn’t.

“To my Club,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

“What Club? Who’s accepting Fatties?”

You swallow harshly, grab your bag and leave, hoping you can outrun them.

They don’t bother to follow but you know this isn’t going to be over soon.

But just for a little longer you want to have this for yourself, just be happy with how things are.

The boys are nice, Kita-san especially. He never gets mean and even when you get something wrong he just explains it calmly to you.

“We use this for disinfecting. You won’t get the same result otherwise.”

Aran’s super nice too, patting your head every time he walks past you like he’s blessing you. He doesn’t mind when you ask questions about Volleyball even though he’s probably explained most of it twice.

“Got that now? No. No problem at all. Maybe it’s easier if you picture the people. Kosaku and Riseki for example, are pinch-servers. Do you remember what that position means?”

Riseki, funnily enough, always asks you for help.

“Did you go over the math lessons already? You did? Sweet! Can you help me with them after training? We can do it here if you want. Kita doesn’t mind when we do our homework in here as long as we don’t disturb the others.”

Then there’s Ōmimi with his serious face who likes to trade books with you and Akagi who’s a bit too loud for your taste but always greets you with a joke.

“Where do the cows go to have fun? The Moovies!”

The second years, though you find the most difficult to work with.

The twins are loud and rowdy and Suna always gets this scary look on his face when he gets quiet. Ginjima always wants to talk to you and you don’t know why and Kosaku doesn’t talk at all.

You prefer to stick with the third years where you can and the first years when they call for you. No one from the Club is in your Class but just because you’ve made it one month doesn’t mean you will make it forever.

Eventually, you’ll be found out.

“Where are you going?”

You try to dash away but this time you’re not fast enough. You hear fabric rip, feel the rush of air around your legs as your skirt drops to the floor.

Laughter rings out in the mostly empty classroom as you gather the remnants of your uniform around you, leaving with tears streaming down your face.

You won’t be late, you promise yourself, even if you have to explain to your parents later why you need yet another expensive garment. You won’t be late, even if you have to wash your eyes with cold water in the bathroom to make sure you’re not found out.

“You okay? Your eyes are kinda red,” Ginjima points out the second you step into the Gym.

You nod and the lump in your throat makes your voice sound nasally.

“I’m fine. Just allergies.”

“Are you sure? If you’re sick you should go home and rest,” Kita had been in earshot, it seems. You shake your head. Home is the last place you want to be right now.

“It’s fine, I was just… my eyes were tearing up a lot.”

Kita doesn’t look convinced. He turns to the boys. “Start training. I’ll be back soon.”

Without another comment he grabs you by the arm and gently drags you outside.

“I’m really fine,” you insist once you’re outside and you can trust your voice again. “It’s just allergies.”

“You don’t get allergies from one day to the other. You can tell me what’s wrong. No one’s listening in.”

Fresh tears fall. “My skirt ripped.”

“Oh.” A pause. “That’s unfortunate. Can I see it?”

You freeze, shoulders pulled up. “What?”

“Can I see your skirt? I’m not that good at sewing, but Kosaku is. Maybe we can do something about it.”

He inspects the garment for a second before he tells you to wait here. When he comes back, he’s got Kosaku in tow who looks not the least bit confused.

“Oh yeah,” Kosaku inspects your skirt as well. “That’s an easy fix. I can mend this after practice if you want.”

“You can?”

“Of course.” He sounds a little displeased that you’re questioning his abilities and you bow, immediately apologizing.

“It’s fine. You can buy me some snacks as a thank you… Or not, nothing’s fine too.” He adds hurriedly but when you look up nothing’s amiss.

“Are you sure? I could bake something.”

“Only if it’s not too much trouble for you. I think all of the boys have a sweet tooth, so I wouldn’t be able to hold onto it for long.”

“They do?”

“Oh yeah. Especially Samu. Though to be fair, he devours everything edible.”

You’ve learned your lesson. You’re the first out of class and the last to step in.

Still you know you won’t be able to get away forever.

But you will enjoy it as long as it lasts.

“I made something,” you exclaim when it’s time for the first real break. You pull the large container from your bag and prop it up, open it to reveal a small mountain of sugar cookies. They’re not in season, but they’re easy to make.

Just as Kosaku predicted, Osamu’s the first to grab one. His face lights up like firework as he tastes it.

“Hey, leave me some!” Atsumu pushes him to the side and you flinch.

“Behave!” Ginjima crows and half of the team turns to look at him, his face turning almost as red as the Inarizaki tie. “We don’t want crumbs in the Gym,” he tries to explain. You offer the box to him next and his hands shake funny when he takes a cookie.

Maybe he’s just as anxious as you are, you think and send him a small smile. It only deepens the red on his face and you turn back, glad to see Aran approaching. Aran is safe.

- - - xxx - - -

“Does anyone know how we got her to make cookies?” Samu asks, licking the last remnants of his fingers.

Ginjima listens only with half an ear. You’re sitting on the other side of the large Gym, head bent over Riseki’s books as you explain something.

Why are you just so cute??? “I told her we all like sweets,” Kosaku explains simply.

“And she brought in sweets?” Suna’s voice is teasing enough to gather Ginjima’s whole focus.

“What are you saying?” He asks, voice skipping an octave.

“What do you think I’m saying?” Suna asks back.

“It’s just cookies,” Tsumu argues, clearly annoyed, “Can we get over it and start playing again? I’m getting bored over here.”

“Ginjima?” Kita’s voice cuts through the noise and he turns, half expecting a stern reprimand.

Instead, his captain stands stiff like a board, waving for him to come over. Next to him: You, head bowed.

He rushes over, heart thundering ahead.

“Yes, Captain?”

“Our dear manager isn’t feeling well. I trust you to walk her to the bus station.”

“Of course!” His heart beats in his throat now, but at least he managed to get that out. “Can I carry your stuff for you? That’s absolutely no problem!”

“I’m fine,” you whisper, but when Kita clears his throat pointedly you relinquish your bag to him

Ginjima makes sure to handle it with the utmost care, trying not to smile too brightly as he walks you out. Kita chose him for this job!

“Do you have a cold?” He asks as you walk. “Tsumu had it last week.”

“No, I don’t have a cold.” Your hands press against your stomach.

“Oh, a stomach bug then? Did you have the curry too today? I heard it wasn’t very good.”

“No… No, I didn’t.”

“Oh, what is it then? Do you have diarrhea?”

Your face pales and he goes almost cross-eyed looking for a trashcan to puke into. Instead, he finds a girl who’s pointing… at you.

“Are you for real?” She asks, voice shrill. “You’re a manager?”

“Who are you?” Ginjima asks, already pissed at the way she asked.

“Who are you?” She asks back. “And what lame kind of sport do you do that you allow Fatty over here to join?”

“What the hell-” He starts, hands balled to fists. “Who do you think you are?!”

She scoffs. “Like you need to know that, loser. Bye Fatty. I’ll see you.” She laughs and runs off and Ginjima has to grind his teeth to keep where he is instead of running after her.

After all, you’re still sick and Kita entrusted you to him!

“Are you okay?” He asks, turning back to you. “Do you know who that bitch is?”

You gasp.

“What?” He asks. “Like she didn’t deserve that title! You’re not fat. My uncle is fat but even if you were that’s no way to talk about you like that! She needs a good beating if you ask me.”

You look up at him, eyes welled up with tears. Your mouth opens and closes and he kinda has to guess what you want to know.

“My uncle?” He guess. “He’s got a disease… I can’t name it properly, but when he was my age he couldn’t move at all because of it and he got so depressed only food gave him a source of comfort. He’s a lot better now but he’s still got plenty of weight. Not that that drags him down if you’ll excuse that joke.” Ginjima can’t help but smile as he thinks of Uncle Keiji.

You shake your head and sniff.

“Oh, you need a tissue?” He pats down his jacket but comes up empty. “Here,” he slips out of it, “Just wipe your nose on it, I’ll wash it today, no problem.”

That’s when you start laughing, his jacket clutched in your hands.

He laughs along, a little confused, but hey, he got you cheered up again.

You don’t look up when the door opens. But the rest of your class does.

“It’s Miya Atsumu!” One of the girls whispers, clearly shocked.

“And his twin!” Someone else mutters equally impressed.

Ginjima leans around them and finds you easily, head bowed over a Bento Box.

“Hey!” He calls out to you. “You coming? We’re going up to the roof to eat.”

Your mouth opens and closes like a fish.

“Come on,” Suna’s voice drawls out lazily, “We don’t have all day.”

You nod, clearly confused, and grab your stuff, rush toward them.

“Who did you say was that bitch again,” Atsumu asks just as you’re a few steps from the door.

Ginjima pokes his head in again and smiles at the girl in question, baring his teeth.

“If you guys mess with our manager again,” Samu declares calmly, inspecting his fingernails, “Getting banned from our games will be the least of our problems. Are we clear?”

- - - xxx - - -

“Thank you for taking the time,” Kita closes the door behind him and smiles. The little storage room is cramped but filled with light from the evening sun.

“You wanted to talk to me?” You ask, hands fiddling. You haven’t lost your anxious ticks even after all these months.

“I’m resigning today,” he explains calmly. “It’s time to graduate. I thought Atsumu would be a good Captain. What do you think?”

You blink away a stubborn tear that won’t stay inside.

“He’ll need a little help,” you sniff, working against the lump in your throat. “But I’m sure he will do great.”

“You’ll help him, right?”

You nod, swallowing thickly. Kita’s warm hands land on your shoulders.

“Do you have any plans for the break?”

“No, not really.”

“Would you like to stay with us for those few weeks?”

You freeze.

“Are you… are you sure?”

“Yes. Granny would love you. I’m sure your parents won’t mind and you can help me with the harvest if you want. Or stay inside and help Granny with the house.”

Silence enfolds between you.

Eventually, with the warmest voice you’ve ever heard from him, he says “I’ve never had a little sister, but if I did… I’d want her to be like you.”

Ginjima’s eyes zero in on yours - surely red rimmed from all the bittersweet tears - but he doesn’t say anything.

Not long and Tsumu’s crying too, wiping his nose on his sleeve as Osamu blinks up into the sun, acting like he doesn’t care at all - the liar.

It’s hard, saying goodbye to the third years.

It will be different with them there, Aran’s daily blessings and Ōmimi’s book recommendations, Akagi’s silly jokes, and Kita’s calmness.

It will be different, but it won’t be bad. Not with all your friends around you.

“I entrust this Club to you,” Kita reminds Tsumu again as he leaves. “Every member and our shared goal. And don’t forget our dear manager.”

“What are you doing over the break?” Ginjima asks later as you wait for the bus.

Your hands fold around the seam of your skirt and you pinch it as if you remind yourself that this is real.

“I’m staying with Kita,” you tell him proudly, “He asked me to come.”

“Oh,” he makes and falls quiet.

“And you?”

“Training, I guess.” He pulls his shoulders up. “Text me when you get back, okay?”

“Okay.”

- - - xxx - - -

Another graduation comes much too soon.

Riseki’s crying this time, the captain’s title heavy on his shoulders.

“Ah, like you’d forget us,” Tsumu says but his voice is heavy with emotion.

Samu’s looking up and squinting into the sun, one of his eyes impressively bruised to match Tsumu. They’ve gotten into a fight this week and even though they refused to talk about it, everyone knows what it’s about.

“You coming in tomorrow?” Ginjima asks as he walks you home, the last bus long gone.

“For your graduation? Like I’d miss that.”

He smiles, fiddling something between his hands.

“You know, about that tradition… the second button… Did you get one so far?”

You laugh. “A second button? No way I’d get one.”

“But would you want one?”

You blink up at him. “Why would I want one?”

“Ah,” he smiles, “Just asking. Don’t all girls want one?”

“I dunno. Depends on the boy, I guess. Would you want one? From a girl, I mean?”

He blushes furiously and you snicker, digging your elbow into his side.

“Come on, tell me. Who is it you like?”

His smile turns pained and you step away.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to push you. It’s your decision to tell me.”

“Thank you. Though, I guess…” He holds out his hand. In it lies a button. “I think I should give it to you. For safekeeping, you know.”

“You don’t think she’ll accept it?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he tells you, voice strained, “I’m not allowed to date her anyway.”

“Oh, that sucks.” You pick the button from his hands and hold it up to the light. “But if you entrust me with it I will keep it safe until it changes. Would that be okay?”

He nods, redfaced, clearly unable to speak.

You tap his elbow with yours and walk on, slowly.

“Did I tell you about my summer plans?” You ask. “Kita got me a job at an accounting firm in Osaka. It’s nothing much but he thinks I might like it. What are your plans?”

Your hand is on Riseki’s shoulder and you’re crying along.

It’s different when you’re the one who’s leaving. Fresh-faced first-years look back at you. The second years mourn the games they could have played - lost to Karasuno yet again.

A new manager will help them go on and though you doubt the friendship will stay beyond these gym doors, you’ve burned her kindness into your heart.

“And don’t forget,” Riseki reminds them one last time, “Kita-san’s rule! Do not date the manager!”

You stop and turn, the tears forgotten for a moment.

“What?” You ask, not unlike a few of the boys who’ve been eyeing sweet Oyama for the better part of last year.

Riseki stumbles, clearly confused by the question.

“Yeah, he told us when you came in. It was very important to him so it must be important for the team. Keep that in mind, will you!”

They agree, some more, some less eager.

You resolve to ask Kita about it the next chance you get. After all he promised to come in tomorrow for your graduation.

- - - xxx - - -

“Ginjima!” You hug him, tears streaming from your eyes. “You came? What a surprise!”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world!” He says, proud that it succeeded. “The rest of the gang is also here!”

“Heeeyy!” Suna waves lazily. There’s also Tsumu and Samu, fighting over a Bento Box like in the good old days, and Aran who’s blessing you with one of his well-missed head pats.

Akagi drags Ōmimi and Kosaku over and for a moment, too short but still so precious, it feels like nothing changed.

“These are my parents!” You introduce them, grinning from one ear to the other. “Do you mind if I go out to eat with the boys?”

The boys. Ginjima’s heart sinks and lifts at the same time. He’s nothing but one of the boys.

Not like Kita who addresses your parents by first name.

But, he thinks when you fall into step with him, whispering how you’ve still got that second button if he needs it, not all hope is lost, right?

“Sit next to me,” he asks when you find chairs at the Izakaya. Half the team grins knowingly but you still don’t get it.

“No, no, I insist,” He pushes your hand back when you try to pay for your food. “It’s on me.”

“Let me walk you home, please.” He asks when they gather outside.

Tomorrow he’s going to be back in Osaka where his job waits for him.

Tomorrow you’ll be nothing but a too vivid memory of something that never got to be real.

Tonight you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever laid his eyes on.

“Sure,” you say, waving at the others, promises of meeting up soon hanging in the air. It’s been a year. It never gets easier.

But still, he leaves without a kiss, without a confession, without anything that means anything.

Because he can see it in your eyes, wide and warm and lovely, that you don’t get it. Maybe you never will.

But that’s okay. Or at least it will be okay someday.

- - - xxx - - -

“So you’re staying?” Samu asks as he plates the food. “For real?”

“For real!” You agree, breaking apart the chopsticks. “What should I try first?”

“Whatever you want. Everything’s good.”

“Wow, what about being humble?” You ask, digging in.

He laughs. “When have I ever been humble?”

“A lot,” you point out, mouth full. “Gosh this is good. Tsumu was always more arrogant.”

“True,” he jokes. “Have you seen him lately?”

You shake your head.

“Suna? Aran? No wait, Kita.”

You snort. “I see Kita at least once a month. That’s not news.”

“Ah yes, Kita, the love of your life.” Samu swoons, clutching his chest. You furrow your brows.

“What do you mean?”

“What?” Samu grins. “You’ve been a thing since when, his graduation?”

You choke on a bit of Onigiri. “What?! No! EW!”

“What?” Samu laughs disbelievingly. “I mean Ginjima told me you went to his place for the break. That’s kinda like making it official.”

“NO!” You belt out, horrified. “That’s what you all thought? But I was… But he is… We’ve always been more like brother and sister.”

Samu shrugs. “I mean he never seemed to mind that Ginjima was head over heels for you, so I didn’t bother-”

Your jaw slackens. “What?” You ask, voice breaking. “Ginjima was what?”

Samu halts, bottle of soy sauce in his hands.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t know.”

“How would I know?”

“How would you not?! He’s got a crush on you since the day you started! Kita made it very clear though that no one was allowed to ask you out and Suna thought it was because he called dibs on you… Are you okay?”

You shake your head.

If he’d pulled the floor from under your feet you couldn’t have been more at a loss.

“Oh my god. I still have his second button.”

“Who’s?” Samu asks, taking a piece of Nigiri Sushi from your plate and popping it into his mouth.

“Ginjima’s.”

“Damn. That guy was bold. I mean I was never fully sure you were dating Kita after all, but at least Ginjima was convinced that you liked him more than him.”

“As a brother, maybe.” You huff, heart beating. Everything looks different now, looking back, with that information in mind.

“You need Sake?” Samu asks, voice comforting. “Or Soju?”

Sleep isn’t coming to you these days.

Kita’s explanations made sense - you had been afraid of everyone breathing back then, scared shitless every time someone other than him or Aran tried to speak to you - and you couldn’t hold it against him that he tried to protect you.

You’d have to talk to their current Captain though, to make sure that ridiculous rule wasn’t still in use.

You’d have to talk to Ginjima too at one point. But you don’t know what to say yet.

If you think of him now, all the moments you’ve been through together, the little things stand out so much more.

How he’d always been so eager to help, always wanting to talk.

How often he blushed around you.

How he defended you, told the other second years - no doubt that whole plan had been his idea.

You can’t think about all those quiet walks home, side by side yet barely touching, how he asked about your day and told you of his, without curling into a ball, warmth filling you to the point of overflowing.

If Kita’s the warmth of a fireplace in winter, a spot to stay safe and comforted, Ginjima is the warmth of the spring sun, guiding you outside. He’s the bright blue sky on summer days that makes you want to stay awake forever.

And every night, without fail, you pull his second button from its safe place and rest it where it had been on his blazer, on the place closest to your heart.

Ginjima works as a Gym Instructor now, not far from where you work.

Twice you’ve walked by and chickened out. You’re not sure you’ll be more successful today.

This time, though, you spot him through the tall windows.

He looks just like the last time you were a team, a towel slung around his shoulders.

It’s that sight that gives you the push you need and you step into the Gym, heart beating in your throat.

He turns and spots you, surprise widening his face. It reminds you of the first time you’ve met and your heart beats even faster.

“Hey!” He rushes over, almost tripping over a weight. “What brings you here.”

“I have something for you.” You stretch out your hand.

Ginjima stops and stares.

“I…” He starts, face split between confusion and pain he’s trying to hide. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s mine,” you explain nervously. “Samu told me… That you had a crush on me.”

“What?” He blushes furiously. “He told you what?”

“And that everyone thought I was dating Kita. We’re just... We’re just friends. Like brother and sister, actually. I didn’t know… I didn’t know you liked me,” your voice is getting lower but his eyes are wide.

“How could I not like you? You’re literally perfect!” He shouts and from somewhere behind him you can hear a voice shushing him.

You snort and he laughs, flustered, hand moving to take yours - and the button.

“And the No Date Rule?” Ginjima asks as if he’d only just remembered it.

“Officially no longer valid.”

- - - xxx - - -

“Lovebirds are in!” Tsumu declares loudly from the bar as the door opens. Ginjima shoots his cap at him, whistling in victory when he hits him square in the head.

“Don’t fight,” you chide behind him, your hand in his. “Are we late?”

“Nah,” Riseki waves from the other side, “Like you’d ever be. Ginjima should be glad to have you.”

“I am!” He declares. “Who’s questioning it?!”

“No one,” Kosaku drawls, hugging you as he moves toward the bathroom. But have some mercy on the single guys.”

“Hey, I could have a girlfriend if I wanted to!” Tsumu points out, followed by laughter.

On nights like this, when they all get together to watch one of them on TV - today it’s Aran - things hardly ever calm down.

But he wouldn’t change this for the world, not even when he has to work a shift tomorrow.

It reminds him of being young and a fool like he’s got nothing to lose and yet so much to fight for.

And when you curl into his side on the Couch, cheer him on when he manages to eat his bowl of soup faster than Tsumu, or defend him against Suna’s jabs he knows that nothing much has changed.

He’s still a fool in love.

My Kofi if you want to tip me

#my writing #ginjima x reader #ginjima hitoshi #ginjima fluff #ginjima #kita shinsuke #inarizaki #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff

77 notes · View notes