#difficult relationships

[phyrestartr]

Those Ghosts We Cannot Burn | Dabi x M!Reader

w/c: 1k cw: past trauma, canon-typical Todoroki family, mentions of child abuse, canon-typical violence, graphic language, difficult relationships #Eventual NSFW, bl, dunno who is top/bottom yet lol, hurt/comfort, angst, drama, reader is yakuza, reader and dabi have history, sorta enemies to lovers?? Notes: AAAAH short little snippet but I wanted to post anyway!! I need to get drafts out of my system or I'll go mad lmao...they're all just clogging up my google docs...it's so bad dude OTL so many WIPs

(ALL tags): @kamote-kuneho @tr4nnie @silvern1006

1. Hello, My Past

The bodies of his victims hissed and burned with a life only fire could leave in the path of destruction. Dabi knew it well–he was made the same way, after all. But they'd go on to simply disappear, their ashes fluttering away with the Autumn breeze while he continued to conquer his fate. 

“Hey, you're the one they call ‘Dabi,’ right?” 

The man in question paused, ears perking at that shitty, monotonous tone. Hah. It pissed him off. It made his heart hum, too. Weird.

“Who's askin'?” He drawled, tucking his hands in his pockets as he turned to face you with languid steps. When he caught sight of you in that alleyway, he almost remembered something, but couldn’t find the will to dwell on it.

“I am, on behalf of Shie Hassaikai,” you said, adjusting the cuffs of your jacket. “You've been torching our men, y’know?”

Dabi smiled. “And? You want an autograph or somethin’?” 

You quirked a brow, looked him up and down, and scoffed. “You got a pen? Or, even know how to write in the first place? Don’t look the type.” 

“Oi–”

“Anyway,” you continued, “You wouldn’t be willing to stop murdering ours while our respective leaders discuss their deal, hey?” 

Dabi clicked his tongue. Annoying. “Their deal's got nothing to do with me.” 

“Guess you're not as high up as they said, then.”

“You're a real pain in the ass, y'know?” 

“It's kinda my job.”

“Maybe someone should relieve you from duty.”

A torrent of blue bloomed and crashed through the alley with the vicious hunger of a tsunami. Sparks exploded and flames lashed against stone and concrete, engulfing sky, earth, and all in-between with his show of firepower–a show he never grew tired of, one that never failed to remind him just what he lived for, what he–wait.

He squinted. What the hell?

A bright silhouette stood in the centre of the violent cleansing, wholly unmoved by the villain's flame. It wavered like a candle tousled by the night breeze, but it did not fade away with the light, nor with the wane of fire. And in the aftermath, once the alley fell quiet and dim once again, there it still stood, staring his way with a light that might rival a god's true form.

“You done?” You asked, voice crackling through a veil of blue. 

Thousands of questions and thoughts rushed through his mind–what the hell was that? Who were you? What was your quirk? Why was your fire blue, too?--but he couldn't settle on one, not long enough to spit it out, anyway. 

“I'll consider that a yes,” you decided. Your form re-materialized with a small flourish embers, and you breathed in deep. 

Dabi tried not to let on how bothered he felt. “What the hell was that quirk?” 

“Does it really matter?” You hummed, smiling. “The only thing you need to know is what you just saw–you can't get rid of me. Not with those flames of yours.”

“Hah. You sure about that, pretty boy?” His fingers twitched, eager to try his hand again. “I could crank the heat up for ya, see just how much you can handle.”

“Maybe another time,” you said, half-distracted as you checked your phone. “For now, remember what I said. Our bosses are trying to work together. Don't make this difficult.”

You turned halfway through your thought, showing Dabi your back without a care in the world. You must've really thought you couldn't be hurt by him. You must have really thought you were better than him. You must have. 

But the sirens roaring toward the alley ruined his chance at demolishing you. He could take them on, but he'd rather not deal with the headache that'd follow–heaven knows he'd get reemed by some of the other villains for taking the PR crap too far. 

Fucking prick, Dabi seethed silently. He'd have to kill you some other day. 

–

“Touya,” you called, voice quiet.

The boy next to you, the one you squished into that single bed with whenever nightmares found him, stirred. Only your voice seemed to pull him free from the lull of dreams and nightmares, oddly. 

“Yeah?” He whispered, clearing his throat, grimacing again at the scratchy stiffness to it. 

“Once the doc helps you,” you started, sounding too serious for your age, “I think we should leave.” 

“What?” Touya rubbed sleep from his eyes the best he could without tearing stitches and skin grafts apart. “What the hell is–”

Whatever else he had to say died in his throat when he caught a glimpse of you in the filtered moonlight; your calm, passive look of day had shifted come the night. Your face was kinder, exposing flickers of forbidden thoughts for none but one to see and soon forget, come the beckon of sleep. 

“What the hell's your problem?” Touya breathed. 

Your brows furrowed. “I don't want to be here,” you answered. “Have you even considered trying to go to your family? We could–” 

“I did go back. Nothing's changed.” He smiled, bitter. “Those fucking sheep abandoned me already.”

“I won't abandon you,” you promised suddenly. “We can talk to them. Together. Come on, Touya–” 

Touya laughed a pathetic, little sound. “Are you serious? They don't give a shit about me, they're not gonna give a shit about–do you think you're better than me? More special?” 

Your eyes grew round. “Wh–I never said that.” 

“But you think they'd listen to you, and not me,” he hissed, something igniting the hollow paths of his nerves and revving him back to life. “You think I'm not–”

You covered his mouth with a quick hand, and he held your wrist with a weak grip. “Shut up. You don't know what I think, so–so just shut up.”

I know what you think. And he was determined to prove you wrong, one way or another, even if he had to rip himself apart to do it--but you saw through him so easily. You always did; you always knew how to push his buttons then reset the system before he blew up.

And when you leaned in and kissed the back of your hand, the one still clasped over his mouth, he did indeed reset. Completely braindead once again, he was.

“Forget I said anything,” you huffed, turning your back to him and settling back in. 

And Touya tried to forget, even though his mind buzzed and his heart thudded against his ribs. He tried, and he tried, and he tried.

[sillyromance]

Good day everyone!

This time here is a Pred! Shockwave/Prey! Reader story. WARNING: angst, hurt/comfort, heavy atmosphere, psychological changes, difficult relationships. This work is quite dark, so why I wouldn't recommend it to kids; there is no violence, though. Inspired by Suzanne Vega's song "Undertow".

☄️Shockwave

You'll be ready.

Shockwave was sitting in his lab, his red eye focused on a bottle in front of him. It was full of liquid which would seem like a usual water for a random observer at first but, if you took a closer look, you would see pink glow coming through the thick glass. The lab sank in shadows; the only sources of light were a small lamp standing among other different devices on Shockwave's table, the named bottle - and the mech's optic which steady, unblinking gaze drilled through the viscous, somber atmosphere of the room.

He was tired.

The 'con had been working for month, but it was still too far from the goal. Of course, some problems had been already solved; of course, he had made a progress. But it wasn't enough. His fingers were slowly tapping on the smooth surface of the table as he watched the bubbles of air lazily rising up from the bottom of the bottle and noiselessly bursting when arriving at the border between the substance and the rest of the world. At least, now the liquid was stable and didn't try to blow up at any second...

He crossed his manipulators and put the head on them, continuing to stare at the result of his work; dark, heavy thoughts were running through his processor.

You found him exactly at this position. He heard you opening the door but didn't turned to greet you; although, his behaviour didn't offend you at all. Being with someone like Shockwave is hard; you have to get used to some things, especially, to lack of interaction. So, his acting told you he simply wasn't a talker that time. You sighed, then approached his workplace and climbed up on the desk using small stairs he was so nice to make for you when you started helping him. When you were on the top, you sat beside his gigantic figure, not touching (the scientist didn't like unexpected tactility) - but staying close to Shockwave, so he could reach you whenever he wanted.

At the Nemesis it was easy to lose a sense of time; there were moments you thought only the notes of experiments you and your partner did saved you from such fate. You looked at your watches - it was almost 1 a.m. (using human counting system).

Your tensed ears caught the mechanism on your wrist ticking audibly.

It could be worse...

- What's our status, doc?

You didn't remember when you started addressing him like that; he never tried to protest anyways. However, such privilege belonged only to you; one day when Knockout called him "Doc", the red mech was quite lucky to go away alive after a blast of energy aimed at his helm. The medic had been avoiding you two since then.

- Unchanged.

It was short, but the manner in which Shockwave spoke made you smile. You'd rather expected him to be cold and distant that night; so, his soft, welcoming tone became a pleasant surprise. After all, the ringing silence at this place seemed to be eating his nerve cables too.

You traced where his was looking, got up on your feet again and came to the bottle.

- May I? - Your rising arm froze as you glanced back at your lover, waiting for his permission.

He didn't make any attempts to stop you, so you took it as a "yes". The decepticon scientist had once said to you "If it's dangerous, I'll warn you; as for everything else, you're free". And it truly worked like that. You could even use the ground bridge and leave without saying anything - he wouldn't insist on you returning back. You hadn't ever done such things, though. No one even considered a possibility that Shockwave had any vulnerable spots in his spark; nevertheless such point of view was completely wrong. And keeping this in mind, you didn't go any further than a roof of the spaceship.

- Well, interesting... - You declared after some minutes of standing and peering exactingly into the transparent solution. - it's much... Safer, than previous combinations.

Shockwave listened to your voice, melodic sounds swimming in the gloomy air, turning into words. He wouldn't say it out loud, but now it was all he needed - just to hear you, to have you nearby. Well, at least, it didn't kicked in yet...

- Positive. - He responded, only because he had to. Shockwave wasn't ready for any serious conversations; his mind was totally fed up with formulas swirling there non-stop. The 'con didn't have a face to wrinkle, so he lowered his antennas in protest.

You understood.

- Uh... What's up, Mr. Twin-Brother-of-Soundwave? - His gaze slightly warmed up as you teased him; the mech knew you too well to think you really meant what you said. - This all has already boiled your microchips, hasn't it?

You walked to his lonely coral eye and stroked his digit, considering that it was enough time passed to make the first proper physical contact. The rough metal, scratchy and faded on the edges of the joints and claws, felt... familiar, nice. You struggled to figure out your emotions - none in your alliance stood out by exclusive sensitivity - although you clearly didn't want to break the touch. He neither.

Your looked up in the strawberry depth of the huge optic and leaned even closer, getting more and more courageous. He didn't back out as you embraced his short, solid neck, pressing an icy cheek against his throat and puffing right in his audio sensors.

- Thank you... - The scientist rumbled. His thunderous whisper made your body tremble.

- I got you... - You answered quietly, then granted your darling a long, but calm kiss, the only one he could agree at - when your cool, silky lips laid, motionless, upon his burning black-purple dermas, just being there...

...Long ago, left and forgotten on a dead home planet where every detail represented loss and tragedy, Shockwave learnt to live on his own. He felt betrayed... He couldn't trust anyone except himself anymore even if he wanted to. Passionate speeches about noble sacrifices for the good of all which hang on every remained wall meant nothing to him. He denied love, loyalty and friendship, and now when anyone tried to convince him he was mistaken it made the poor scientist recall in his memory the pain of Arcee's fire and the last flash of a space bridge closing before him, separating him from the whole society of other transformers for hundreds of years. None came to rescue a geek weirdo... Even Megatron preferred to not bother searching.

They actually ditched him. So, Shockwave gave himself to the only thing which could be with him no matter what - to his work. And although Megatron considered him dog-like, in fact, the scientist served to his own independent interests. ..

But in your tiny, brittle arms he was able to finally escape the world of sorrow and suffer he trapped himself into. You were different. You showed actions.

You risked your life to stay by his side...

Something shifted inside him as he heard your last phrase. A sharp, demanding pang cut through his entire being. So awful. So good.

It came. He wanted you. Right now.

Shockwave embaced you with his normal servo, pocking the sharp claws into your gentle flesh just a little, but enough to make you hiss. His affection inevitably hurt you - as well as your tenderness hurt him. You noticed how his ventilating became harsh and deep; his pulse fastened.

- I got you, boy... - Shockwave squeezed you tighter, as if you were about to run away. The mech's spark ached in agony; it was like there was a needle digging in its shining sphere, messing around and making it bleed.

A low, desperate growl came from under the desk.

- Open up for me.

He obeyed. Shockwave released you, letting you climb behind his chest plates in a gap between them and his neck. And there was it. The maw.

Nature played an ugly joke on your beloved doc - it built him so unreasonably strange and unique that it was horrible. A gun instead of a manipulator and a single eye were the least intimidating mutations. But how about a mouth in a throat? A black, salivating hole looking like a fresh wound, inviting you in with a wiggling, thin snake glossa?

Would you love it as much as any other part of this surrealistic creation?

Because he hadn't deserved less.

You let the agile tongue wrap around your ankles and hips, and get under your shirt. You were aware of what would happen next. The mech tasted his meal before devouring - nothing unusual. Unless it was revealed you were not a lifeless snack to him.

The glossa smeared you in viscous slime, hugged you till suffocation and set free, pulsating with temptation against your fragile skin. You didn't own your body anymore - it was his toy to play and savour... Fortunately, he had no teeth - or you would be cut into pieces instantly. Then the tongue easily rose you up and leisurely pulled your feet into the wet warmness of the "inner space". The muscles of Shockwave's esophagus desperately grabbed them and tagged further; you instinctively held your breath as you half-vanished in the abyss of the transformer's chassis. Crazy contrast between heat and cold made you dizzy. It was time to shut your eyes.

And the light was gone.

...........

His dry fueltank was large and innocently tender. The scientist hadn't used it much (if he used it at all). He preferred injecting energon directly into veins - such way was more effective in his opinion... In order to that, perhaps, you were the only thing ever coming here after decades. Everything was like at the first time you two did it - Shockwave's sparkbeat jumping hysterically above your head, harsh "breathing" trying to cool his overwhelmed systems down, a soothing presence of his hand caressing you through metal...

He felt broken. Again.

You snuggled into the violet alien flesh, drawing circles on its waving surface . It was much more intimate than sex. It was much more comforting than hugs. You knew he continued sitting like he did before you disappeared inside him, but now his servo stayed on his waist, grabbing it, rubbing it with repressed desperation. His abdomen, shocked by your presence, roared and churned, tiring and crushing you up - and endlessly, immensely loving you.

He loved you so much... He needed to swallow you whole to explain this feeling, to fulfill his needs. He was secretly starving for basic happiness and love all these freaking years of oblivion... So, wild, uncontrollable hunger grew in his character and completely replaced usual desires. The mech had to contain you within to finally escape the fear of you leaving him behind. And also, it was a single act Shockwave could commit to hold you so closely; to show how much you really mean to him. He trusted you to let him live. You trusted him to not dissolve you.

And you fondled, and kissed, and rubbed every inch of his growling "stomach"; it didn't take long for the organ to settle down, discovering your caring, light touch.

And time will pass until you both know this is a point of no return. People don't live forever like machines do. One day, he will let his natural instincts take over...

But you'll be ready.

[andersonswords]

my father called me this morning

he woke me from my sleep

we talked about school and my future

it made me feel weak.

the last time we spoke

i told him he couldn’t be had

by me in my life

even though he’s my dad.

he chose someone else

over the children he bore

i was sick of fighting

for burden’s a chore.

why should i fight

for the attention of him

when he chose someone else

on merely a whim.

[rosewind2007]

I rang my mother this morning

Someone answered, their voice clear and friendly

My heart immediately jumped, I worried it was a first responder of some kind…various possible disasters flashed in front of my mind…

I asked, “Who is that?”

It was my mother, as she said “Hahahahaha! It’s probably because I’m not drunk…”

Yes, mother—that would likely be it

[foundmes-world]

Mother-in-law and daughter-in-law issues are pretty much the same everywhere, though they vary in degree. I love them both dearly, so being caught in the middle is really tough for me. 😭

[timetravelsong]

𝐈𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐈’𝐦 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐭. 𝐈’𝐦 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐰𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞.

excerpts from a book I’ll never write

[melonsharks]

au where everything is the same except mabel and dipper have been going to gravity falls every year before the show takes place since like kindergarten.

its a pretty simple premise that derives mostly from my desire to explore interpersonal relationships and the ways a place and people can change from a young child’s point of view. it doesn’t change canon that much either, admittedly, i just wanted to draw childhood friends stuff LOL. ill call it uhhhhhhhh every summer au.

[changesmadeeasy]

Feeling persistently stuck in a negative cycle of some kind? Burdened by what feels like repetitive bad luck, hard times, or difficult relationships? Karmic debt might be playing a role.

[audhd-thoughts]

I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything that summed up how I feel about my bio dad more than this

[brucedefender4eva]

Jason and Bruce had an intense fight, which somehow led to an even more intense heart-to-heart

——

Jason: … *feeling awkward since he spilled his guts on how Willis still affects him*

Bruce: … *wringing his hands* I called Alfred Dad once… when I was younger…

Jason: *turns to Bruce* ?

Jason: I mean… yeah? Isn’t he basically your Dad and everything?

Bruce: *chuckles softly* Yeah, now. But definitely not back then.

Bruce: He got so… *closes eyes as he searches for the word* mad at me.

Jason: *in disbelief* Mad??? He got mad??

Bruce: Maybe that’s not the right word, but that's what it felt like. He wouldn’t talk to me for two weeks. And even after, he was… distant.

Jason: That’s so fucking cruel! Why would Alfred…? *Jason scowls but relaxes slightly as Bruce throws an arm over his shoulder and snuggles with him*

Bruce: I wasn’t allowed to go outside yet. It was still too fresh from my parents' death, and being swarmed by the media would be… bad. I was stuck alone in the manor with the only person I could talk to giving me the worst silent treatment of my life.

Bruce: Honestly, some of the things I had to go through in my childhood... I don't know why Alfred did the things that he did, or why I had to go through it. But... it happened.

——

Bruce can feel Jason get angry before he can see or hear it. He can feel how his son’s body tenses up, as if he were moments away from jumping off the couch and storming the manor to search for the old butler.

Bruce squeezed him closer and ran his fingers through Jason’s hair, wincing as he snagged a few unbrushed knots in the tangled mess.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Bruce murmured, unable to suppress the small smile that crept up on his face from the grunt Jason let out, incredibly reminiscent of when Jason was barely up to his waist.

“It’s not,” Jason argued, turning slightly and pushing his face into the crook of Bruce’s neck. “It’s not. Why didn’t you tell us? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Bruce knows that Jason doesn’t mean the questions to sound like accusations, but he winces at the tone anyway. None of his kids can handle being left out of information, even if Bruce deemed it unimportant, like his history with Alfred.

“Alfred was put in a very… difficult position,” Bruce said slowly, tugging gently on one of Jason’s curls. “I’m surprised he kept me. I’m not the easiest person to take care of. You know how I am.”

“That shouldn’t matter if you’re a child.” Jason snapped. “It didn’t matter for you when it was me!” Jason huffed, then paused. “Right? It didn’t matter, did it?”

“I’d go back a trillion and one times to take care of you over and over again. You and all of your siblings.” Bruce chuckled. “But… I wanted you. Wanted all of you. I had a choice. I… I took that away from Alfred.”

Jason grimaces and squeezes Bruce’s hand, pulling his Dad away from the dark thoughts he was bound to fall into.

“Alfred was forced to take care of a traumatized problem child when he only signed up to be a butler. He most likely figured that my parents would shift my custody over to another branch of the family if it came down to it.” Bruce’s fingers twitched with the urge to scratch at his skin, give him something to control, unlike his emotions. “He wasn’t prepared. Who would want to take care of their dead employers' child?”

“But-“

“Alfred is only human, Jay, even if he acts like he’s not,” Bruce said firmly, tilting Jason’s head so he could look into his son’s beautiful green eyes, filled with the determination and need to defend his Dad. “I forgive him. For every mistake that he’s ever made. For all the mistakes he will continue to make. I… I love him, nothing will change that.”

Jason was silent, staring off into the distance as Bruce continued to play with his hair. He turned over what Bruce said in his mind. He could tell that Bruce still hadn’t told him everything, and maybe he never would.

“I forgive you, too.”

“You don’t have to.”

“… yeah. I know.”

[adam-scott]

Well, maybe love transcends severance.

[babyjaans]

I’m rewatching supernatural, and I can’t believe I never realised this before, but sam and dean are the exact opposite of what they think of themselves. In the brothers’ eyes Sam is the more emotionally open one, or the one with more empathy, and yet he struggles to make close relationships that aren’t romantic. He keeps everyone at arms distance: john, mary, bobby, cas, and so many other examples throughout the series. Whereas dean is supposed to be closed off and emotionally stunted, and yet he has deeper connections with almost all recurring characters: garth, jody, donna, claire (obviously the ones mentioned before). He lets people in more easily than sam. Even how he knows all the shopkeepers in lebanon, whereas they don’t seem to know sam (ie 14x13).

[neishroom]

naomie aged up! she has the music lover trait :]

i know cleo tried to take a cute picture of them and got upset gabriel made this face LOL.

[orsanedraws]

[fluentisonus]

nettle soup

[spaceprincessleia]

You are the knife I turn inside myself; that is love. That, my dear, is love. – (Velcinta + Franz Kafka, Letters to Milena)

134 days until andor s2