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theteasetwrites · 2 years

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The Other Brother

❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader ❧ Era: Season 3 (The Beginning Is the End Is the Beginning series) ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: mild swearing, Merle being slightly annoying/sexist (are we surprised really) ❧ Word Count: 5.1k

❧ Summary: Merle has just made a home for himself in the prison, and though you aren't happy about it, you're trying to keep cool. When a conversation breaks out between you and Merle, you realize the one thing you have in common—you both love Daryl.

❧ A/N: This is another oneshot from my series, The Beginning Is the End Is the Beginning (and yes I do regret naming it that because the title is so long lol). I wanted to capture a scene we didn't see in the series, which is another conversation between the reader and Merle (see Chapter 20 for a refresher on the last conversation they had... it didn't go well). I didn't want to make Merle redeemable in this scene, but I did want to have him have another talk with reader because their dynamic is interesting to me. I also wanted to get some more Daryl backstory (that's always fun) and to see that from Merle's perspective. I do think Merle cares about Daryl deep down, he's just a shitty brother (and person). Also cute Daryl and reader moments, of course.

Morning light poured through the tall, paned windows of the cafeteria. It was still early, but you were up, about to start your watch in the guard tower. With tensions rising between your people and the Governor, it was becoming all the more necessary to keep alert. Even Rick, Michonne, and Carl had embarked on a mission just a few hours ago, in the hopes of bringing back a cache of weapons.

You’d hoped that Andrea’s efforts to make peace last night weren’t in vain. For your part, you would try to help any way you could, but there was no way of reconciling the truth—Merle had captured Glenn and Maggie, and Rick, Daryl, Michonne, and Oscar had killed several of the Governor’s people in order to get them back. There wasn’t going to be any peace made from that.

But that wasn’t of any consequence for the moment. There were other things to worry about, too.

First there was the matter of checking on little Judith, who had just begun to stir awake in her makeshift crib (just a box with blankets and towels for cushioning, and Beth’s handwriting scrawled “Lil’ Asskicker” on the side).

You couldn’t help but peer into the box to look at her, and, thinking you were completely alone, you set down your axe and your pack to transition into your baby voice.

“Well, hello there,” you cooed to the newborn. She was only about a week or so old now, but she’d already been through so much. The baby’s hazel colored eyes opened sleepily, her pink lips opening in curiosity as she studied your face, albeit with not much going on inside that little head.

You curled your fingers gently but firmly around her sides to lift her into your arms. Her legs wrapped around your side as you bounced her softly. “You’re just a little angel, aren’t you? Yes, you are. Judith. J-U-D-I-T-H. That’s your name. My name is (Y/N).”

You continued to spell out your name, laughing at the final letter when Judith drooled a little, with spit dripping down her chin as she, too, laughed.

“Oh, great,” you said. “Silly goose. Here, let me wipe your chin.”

You turned to the kitchen sink where a roll of paper towels was propped on the side. After sitting yourself down at the table, holding Judith as you wiped her chin, you felt a pair of cold, beady blue eyes boring into your back.

Merle was standing in the middle of the stairs leading up the window perch, one leg obnoxiously propped on the railing, and his amputated arm sporting the homemade blade attachment that you found quite unsettling.

He stepped down slower now, mustering a small smile. As best as you could, you ignored him, not bothering to look his way, though you recognized the feeling of that stare anywhere—it wasn’t unlike Daryl’s in its intensity, though his always felt much more affectionate.

You hadn’t said a word to him since yesterday afternoon, when he’d made a point to say that his brother could never love you. As much as you tried not to let it get to you, you couldn’t forget those words. They seared and stung and oozed.

Merle had touched on an insecurity deep within you, one that had never truly gone away. You feared he was right—Daryl couldn’t love you.

There was no rationalization to it, but rational thought didn’t exist in that part of your mind. Daryl loved you. He wouldn’t have come back to the prison the other day if he didn’t. But if he did, maybe he wouldn’t have left in the first place.

You just couldn’t grapple with Merle. He frightened you, even disturbed you. He represented everything that Daryl had left behind, every bad thing he’d experienced in his life before you. If you could put all of Daryl’s trauma and anger and sadness into one person, that person would be Merle.

You only hoped he’d leave you alone, since the last time you talked to him in this room, you nearly splashed boiling water at his face.

“Early bird gets the worm,” he said. How could Daryl’s brother have such a grating, annoying voice, while Daryl had the softest, sweetest, albeit a little gravelly, voice you could imagine? “You tryin’ to catch any worms today, sweetheart?”

Give me strength.

You shook your head, still looking down at baby Judith as you cleaned her.

You heard Merle’s steps come closer as he trudged down the stairs, until finally setting himself down at the same table. His face was directly across from you now, so you had no choice but to see him.

You held Judith closer to your chest, as if instinctively keeping her as far away from Merle as possible. After all, he did have a very sharp, long blade jutting out of his arm.

“Do you need something?” you asked curtly.

He raised an eyebrow, and perhaps you should’ve known better than to say that, since he looked like he was about to reply with something rather crass.

“You could tell me where my baby brother is,” he said.

That was a bit of a relief. “He’s in bed,” you said. “Sleeping in.”

Merle knew his brother, and that wasn’t something Daryl had ever cared to do before. Well, maybe he didn’t know his brother as well as he thought.

“Sleeping in?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow as a wry smirk curled onto his face. “You wear him out, girl?” There it is. “Too much hanky panky? Ya know, my brother ain’t no spring chicken. How old are you, anyway?”

He looked you up and down, as if trying to figure it out on his own.

“Twenty-six,” you replied, trying to avoid eye contact as you prepared Judith’s baby formula on the table.

He let out a whistle, much to your annoyance. “Well, shit.”

You rolled your eyes as you replaced the lid of Judith’s bottle, now filled with liquid formula. “I’m a grown woman,” you assured him.

“Ain’t no disputin’ that,” he agreed. “Just still a little… shocked, s’all.”

It took every fiber of your being not to engage, but there was always that part of you that just couldn’t let people like Merle walk all over you. It took you a long time to figure out how to stand up for yourself, and though sometimes it was still a struggle, people like Merle reminded you of why you couldn’t be quiet anymore.

So to change the subject, at the very least, you asked him a question, one that had been on your mind since you learned that Merle was alive.

“What do you want?” you asked.

“What d’ya mean, Bambi?”

“I mean… why are you here? Just to mess with Daryl’s head?”

Perhaps you were going too far again. You had already developed mild regrets about telling Merle off yesterday, though it seemed like the right thing to do at the time. After all, he offended you, and you’d held your tongue for long enough. Still, a part of you wanted to get along with Merle as much as you could, though you knew there would never be anything better than vague ambivalence towards each other.

“Funny,” he scoffed. “I was gonna ask you the same question.”

Asshole.

“You think I’m messing with Daryl’s head?”

“That’s what women do,” Merle replied simply. “Complicate things. A real sweet, pretty one like you can make a man weak, turn him into jelly. Evil. No wonder the Garden of Eden fell. That damn woman.” His voice turned into a sharp hiss as he spoke, his facial features tightening as he continued. There was vitriol there, like he was spitting acid at you. “Daryl’s always been… sensitive.” He spoke the word like it burned his tongue as it slipped out. “Shoulda known a woman like you would come along and sweet talk your way into his heart. Ya know, since I got here, I wonder if my brother is even the same guy from last time I saw him.”

You couldn’t count how many times you rolled your eyes during his little rant about women. You’d heard it all before in one way or another, how women are so “complex” and have some kind of nefarious plan to get men to do their bidding. All rooted in misogyny, of course. You always found it rather funny how men could say such things about the wickedness of women, and yet sexualize them in the same breath.

“He’s the same man,” you said. “He just changed. This world changes people, some for the better.” You propped the baby’s head up a little higher in the crook of your arm to begin feeding her from the bottle. “Daryl stepped up. Sophia, Carol’s little girl, she got lost in the woods, and Daryl led the search. He almost got himself killed trying to find her. And on the road, he hunted for everyone, protected everyone.” Judith caught your attention when she coughed a little, having drunk her formula too fast. You patted her back softly until she stopped. “Daryl loves this baby, too. He calls her Little Ass-Kicker. He’s so good with her.”

Merle’s eyes narrowed at you, investigating you. Some woman he’d once thought to be insignificant and not long for this world was suddenly more knowledgeable of his brother than he was. In fact, he was starting to wonder if you knew more about him than he ever did.

“Well, shit,” he said. “Looks like little Daryl’s made himself into a regular Prince Charming. Seems like just yesterday he was gettin’ wasted off moonshine and pissin’ himself in the drunk tank. Had to bail his drunk ass out with my drug money. Little shit.”

You blinked in confusion. That didn’t sound like your Daryl, but he always said he got into trouble when he was younger. “When was that?” you asked, curious to hear any stories Daryl hadn’t told you.

Merle smiled at your intrigue. “Kid was about… seventeen.”

You shifted your shoulders as you adjusted Judith in your arms, then stood again to gently put her back in her crib. “If I engage in conversation with you,” you started to say, “do you promise not to be an asshole?”

“Depends what ya mean by ‘asshole.’”

“I mean… don’t say offensive things.”

“Depends what you mean by ‘offensive.’”

You sighed and shook your head as you sat back down. Ignoring his last comment, you asked, “What was Daryl like growing up?”

Merle’s eyes widened at that, and he broke out into a boisterous chuckle. “What was Daryl like?” You nodded. “Oh, man… Well, sweetheart, Daryl was somethin’ else.”

“What does that mean?”

Merle’s laugh subsided, and he could tell by the curiosity on your face that you were serious. You wanted to know about Daryl’s life from Merle’s perspective. After all, he was the only family from the world before Daryl had left, and as much as you hated to admit it, you still occasionally clung to that world. You found yourself wishing you’d met Daryl before all this, though ultimately, you were happy to have met him at all. In any case, the past fascinated you, and your curiosity was always a force to be reckoned with.

In a matter of moments, Merle began to straighten as he cleared his throat, preparing himself to dust off the old memories that had lain dormant in the derelict attic of his mind.

“See, Daryl’s ten years younger than me. Hell, I remember the day he was born… He was a mistake. My mom, she wanted to, ya know, get rid of him ‘fore he was born, but that kinda thing wasn’t looked upon kindly. Matter of fact, she was hopin’ for a girl. She was so sure it was gonna be a girl. Then Daryl popped out. Imagine how surprised she was. ‘That ain’t no damn girl,’ she said.”

You smiled at the way Merle told the story. Imagining baby Daryl was quite amusing, too. You were sure he was adorable.

“When I held him for the first time, he squirmed and cried… He was so little.” Merle’s eyes trailed to baby Judith in her crib, who was nodding off to the sound of Merle’s voice, much softer than usual. In a way, it reminded you of Daryl’s, and once again you were reminded that they were brothers. “I think it was that same year, this Hall & Oates song came out. I dunno, but Mom named him Daryl, ‘cause she liked it so much.”

Your eyes widened, as did your smile. “Daryl Hall? He’s named after Daryl Hall?”

“Mhm… And my dad liked Merle Haggard.”

You laughed as you stored that information, fully intending to tease Daryl later on.

“First thing I knew about Daryl was that he was a baby. Mom babied him, made him all soft. Daryl could do no wrong… She loved him. Dad didn’t love no one. Cold son of a bitch. Barely looked ya in the eye ‘less it was to smack ya. Started drinkin’ a lot more when Mom died. Daryl was about… five, I was fifteen, off stealin’ whiskey and cigarettes.”

He paused for a moment, shifting in his seat uncomfortably as his face muscles began to tighten. A palpable shift in his demeanor began to manifest itself, and he averted his eyes from you.

“Daryl was a good kid,” he said. “He got into trouble, but he didn’t know nothin’ else. He was a lot younger when Dad started hurtin’ him. I mean, I was gone. I was always gone. Barely knew. It was easier for me to leave, to avoid it. He hurt me, but I was older. I could jus’ leave… Daryl jus’ dealt with it for a while. A long time…”

You knew what Daryl’s father had done to him, how he slashed the skin on his back with a switch from a birch tree. It was hard not to know about it. Daryl’s back was evidence, etched with thick, raised scar tissue. On the rare occasions Daryl talked about it, he would pass it off as if it were nothing, despite your attempts to comfort him in the wake of these traumatic memories. Sometimes you felt that he was too reluctant to let himself feel the weight of his emotions, but you couldn’t say that to him. He needed to come to terms with his past in his own time, his own way.

“He beat me too,” he continued, “but Daryl got it worse. I know that now. Kinda funny, I left ‘fore things got real bad, and yet Daryl turned out better than me. How the hell does that happen?”

You shrugged. “Well, Daryl has a good head on his shoulders.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Knows a good thing when he sees it.”

You looked at him curiously, innocently. “Hm?”

“Talkin’ ‘bout you, Bambi.”

“Oh.”

Me? If you didn’t know any better, it seemed as though Merle was… complimenting you. Not in a crass sexual way, or with a sarcastic remark—it was genuine. You could tell.

“Mhm… You’re good for him.”

You were taken aback, bewildered. Wasn’t this the very same man who accused you of being nothing but a “passing fancy” and “a hole for Daryl to put his dick in” not twenty-four hours ago? Surely you were speaking to a different man.

“Where is that coming from?” you asked, genuinely confused. “I thought you hated me.”

Merle chewed his bottom lip in thought. Another little habit similar to Daryl’s. It was quite surreal. “I don’t know my brother half as well as you do,” he began, “but I knew him ‘fore all this… ‘Fore the world went to shit. He was lost for a real long time, followed me around not knowin’ what else to do. Yesterday, you said he didn’t think for himself, that he was like a puppet. Maybe you’re right. Maybe… maybe that’s what I did to him.”

You lowered your head, slightly ashamed of your words, though you meant every bit of them. From what Daryl had told you, you had always gleaned that Merle manipulated him, taking advantage of Daryl’s sensitivity and leading him down paths that weren’t good for him. You might not have known Daryl for as long as Merle, but you knew that Daryl was much more emotionally fragile than he seemed at the outset, and that people like Merle could easily take advantage of him. Of course, Daryl wasn’t completely innocent in his actions, but you always felt that he was much more himself these days, without the influence of his brother. You only hoped that Merle being here wouldn’t deter his progress.

“But you,” he continued, “you brought somethin’ outta him.”

You shook your head in denial. “No, it was all of us. This group, we’re family. We all changed each other. But Daryl… he’s always been good. I believe that. When he saved me from that walker in the woods, that day I took you both to our camp, I knew he was good. It wasn’t me, he just needed the opportunity to be good.” He needed to get away from you, was what you really wanted to say, but perhaps that would be a little too harsh for the moment.

He chuckled under his breath, amused by the thought of his kid brother being so good. “You really love my brother, don’t you, girl?”

Your cheeks became flushed with red, despite your confidence in that answer. You loved him so much it scared you. You loved his heart, his mind, his body, his soul… Beautiful didn’t even begin to describe him. The short time you’d been together in this world felt like centuries, though time moved faster these days—a year was like a decade. That year you spent with him was fraught with fear and blood and death and every other unholy thing you could think of, but all that paled in comparison to the deep, profound love you had for him. It kept you going on particularly dark days, and held your hand when the light seemed so far away that you couldn’t see in front of you.

His love was the last beautiful relic of a time when love was all too often taken for granted. His love was unending and unwavering, even when death loomed at every corner and threatened to rid the world of every last ounce of happiness. His love was sweet, pure, sincere, almost unfathomable in its depth.

When your love met with his, it was the closest thing you could get to a dream in this terrible nightmare of a world. So yes, you did love him. Very, very much.

“Yes,” you said clearly, not wanting to be mistaken. “I love Daryl very much.”

He was silent for a while, as if processing the information. He knew you loved him, though, just as much as he knew Daryl loved you. What disturbed him was a newfound kind of protectiveness for his little brother, which he hadn’t felt so much since the little boy was born.

“Would ya hurt him?” he finally asked, eyes boring deep into yours. “Would ya break his heart?”

The man continued to bewilder you, and for a few moments, you had no idea what to say, though you knew exactly what the answer was.

“No,” you said. “No, never. I’d never hurt him.”

Merle nodded solemnly, though with a vague sense of trust. “He’s been hurt a lot. By my dad, by me… See the way he looks at ya, Bambi. Nothin’s ever made him this happy. Tell ya the truth, I don’t think he’s ever been happy. Not till you. Saw it at the quarry, too. You had him in the palm of your little hand since the moment he saw ya, I knew it. Jus’ didn’t think you’d last long enough for him to realize it.”

You thought for a moment, still trying to fully process Merle’s words. “Well,” you finally said, “Daryl means everything to me. Breaking his heart would break mine.”

“So we got ourselves an understanding then?”

“Understanding?”

“Yeah. You hurt my little brother, you answer to me.”

Your slight fear of Merle kicked in, sending a brief shiver up your spine. Though you wondered if Merle really cared about Daryl, you couldn’t help but take his warning seriously.

“I still don’t like you, Merle,” you said abruptly, trying to regain your confidence. “If you’re going to live here, and hang around Daryl, I have a few ground rules, too.”

He leaned back in his chair, folding his hand and his blade hand behind his head. “Lay ‘em on me, sugar tits.”

You scoffed, glowering at him. “First of all, don’t call me that. And you need to stop sexualizing everything. It makes me and Daryl very uncomfortable.”

“Damn, you’re no fun at all.”

“Just be respectful,” you said. “Boundaries.”

Merle shook his head, and you could tell he hardly knew the meaning of that word. “You done usin’ those big college words now? Think I liked you better when you didn’t talk so much.”

Your lip tightened as you pulled a mean glare, rising from your seat to return your axe to its place on the loop of your belt. You then picked up Judith, planning on taking her to Beth before your watch shift started. “Get used to it.”

It was an uneventful shift, with no signs of the Governor or his army on the horizon, giving you time to think about the new situation. Merle wasn’t going anywhere for the time being, and you had to accept that. Everyone did. No one liked him, and you were sure even Daryl didn’t particularly like him, but that was Daryl’s brother, and the only part of his family he had left. You found it hard to understand Daryl’s devotion to him, considering Merle had abandoned him as a child, but you didn’t need to understand—the point was that Daryl wanted him here, and you loved Daryl.

Relationships sometimes require sacrifice, you knew that. Perhaps this was the first sacrifice you’d have to make for Daryl, and though it came with being irritated by Merle’s bigoted presence, you told yourself that from now on, you would pick your battles wisely, only fighting with Merle when you deemed it necessary. Perhaps Daryl himself would soon grow tired of Merle, but until that time, you’d stick it out for him. Only for him.

You hadn’t even seen Daryl yet that day, except for a few times from a distance as you stood in the guard tower. In a running joke, you raised your binoculars to spy on him, watching him help Glenn with the reinforcements to ensure the prison was strong against any threat, namely the Governor.

When he felt your eyes on him, he raised his hand to his forehead, blocking the sunlight from his sensitive blue eyes. “Get back to work, woman!” he yelled up at you from the ground.

“You first!” you called back, still watching him through your binoculars. “That barricade isn’t going to make itself, Dixon!”

He scoffed and shook his head, though his slight smirk betrayed his amusement at your teasing. Fully intending on getting you back in some way, he paused to remove his jacket and vest, revealing his bare arms. With narrowed eyes, you adjusted your binoculars to more clearly display his toned muscles, gleaming with sweat in the afternoon sunlight. As he lifted the large wooden pallet, you studied the flexed tendons and bulging muscles all along his tan, impossibly large arms.

When he finished moving it to block the entrance to D Block, he dusted off his gloved hands and shook the dark caramel bangs from his face, looking back up at you with a subtle, teasing wink, and a slight purse of his lips as he sent you a little kiss. Maybe you were still a little mad with him for going off with Merle, but how could you really be mad at him?

“Baby,” you quietly giggled to yourself, dangling your legs playfully over the edge of the guard tower. “Mm… You’re such a tease, baby.”

Your shift ended shortly thereafter, and when Maggie relieved you of your post, you helped Beth take care of the baby, teaching her how to properly get the little one to sleep. After helping Carol with dinner, you retreated to a small patch of wild blue violets, where you sat cross-legged against the wall of the prison, watching the begin to set.

Spring afternoons were pleasant in Georgia. The air was still cool from winter, but not unbearable, not at all. Overgrown violets and weeds surrounded you, and the dead were far off somewhere else, behind that chain-link fence upon which you relied so heavily. The Governor had torn down the furthest fence, but the one closest to the prison still remained, and though the future remained uncertain, you felt yourself let go for a moment, leaning your head back against the brick wall and letting out a deep sigh.

The silent moment was broken by the snap of a twig, sending your eyes wide open as your gaze whipped towards the sound. Daryl stood peering around the corner, his hand curled around the edge of the brick wall. His lip quirked upwards in a slight smile, which you returned.

“Hi,” you said quietly.

“Hi…” He looked towards the setting sun for a moment, then slowly made his way to you, careful not to trample over the delicate purple flowers. “Ain’t ya gonna have dinner?” He slid down the wall to sit beside you, tucking his knees to his chest.

“Later,” you replied. “You know I like watching the sunset.”

“Yeah,” he said. “And I like watchin’ you watch it.” You laughed under your breath and bumped his shoulder with yours. “S’true. Beautiful…”

“Me?”

“Mhm. You.”

“Aren’t you a charmer?”

“I try to be.”

“Hm, well, that’s more than I can say for your brother…” You trailed off, palming your forehead when you realized what you’d said. “God, sorry. I, um… I talked to him today.”

He nodded solemnly, though with affirmative confidence. “I know.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. Told me so, while you were in the tower. Told me a lot of things.”

“Great,” you sighed. “What did he tell you?”

“Told me that ya love me,” he said. “But I already knew that.”

You smiled with rosy cheeks, a little embarrassed that Daryl now knew you told Merle you loved him. After all, Daryl was quite private with that kind of thing, and you knew he liked to maintain a certain image, especially with his brother, who would have no qualms with calling him “Darylina” if the occasion called for it.

“Did he tell you anything else?”

He scoffed as he recalled Merle’s words. “Said I oughtta take real good care of you, ‘cause you’re special.”

“He did not,” you laughed. “You’re so making that up.”

“I’m not,” he replied. “Well, he also said you got a big mouth.”

“Pfft,” you scoffed. “Asshole.”

“Yeah… but I think he’s startin’ to like you,” he said. “I know you don’t like him, and I don’t expect ya to, but what matters to me is that he likes you.”

You furrowed your brow and smiled in your amused curiosity. “Why does that matter?”

He shrugged, and of course he had a very practical reason for wanting Merle to like you. “‘Cause I need to know he’ll keep ya safe if somethin’ happens to me.”

Your face softened into a quivering pout, yet your eyes smiled at his sweet words. “Oh, baby,” you laughed, scooting closer to grab his hand and place it in your lap. “That’s sweet… But nothing’s going to happen to you. I won’t let it.”

He tilted his head while reaching out to hold your cheek in the rough palm of his worn hand. You leaned into his touch almost immediately, closing your eyes as you rubbed your cheek against him. His body was always so warm, every single part of it. When he held your cheek, you always felt particularly adored, like that was the greatest kind of physical affection a human being was capable of showing. Of course, you had known much greater, more intimate pleasures with him, but that gentle caress of your cheek was something else entirely.

“But if somethin’ does happen,” he said, “I told Merle that he better take care of you, make sure nothin’ happens to you. S’all I really need from him, just to know you’d be all right.”

“And what did he say when you told him that?”

Daryl shook his head. “You really wanna know?”

“Mhm.”

“He said he’d be sure to take real good care of you…” Daryl repeated the sentence much in the same way Merle would, so you knew exactly what he meant.

“Oh,” you frowned, shaking your head. “He’s such a pervert. How are you even related to a guy like that?”

Daryl’s other hand came around you, gripping your shoulder and pulling you closer until his lips could connect to the space where your neck and your shoulders meet. When his tongue lapped at your skin, his lips suctioning sloppily in between licks, you let out a boisterous laugh. “Daryl! Mm… You’re a pervert, too…”

Your hand came up to lace through his hair, massaging his scalp as his mouth pampered you, inching up your neck until his outstretched tongue slid along your jawline, tickling you with his stubble.

He pulled away slowly, then nuzzled his nose against your heated cheek. You felt his breath near your lips, and all you wanted was to feel his mouth on yours, for as long as possible. Forever, ideally.

“Also told him to cool it. He says shit like that to you, you tell me. I’ll kick his ass,” he said. “I aint tryin’ to make excuses for him, but Merle… he only really knows how to talk to prostitutes.”

“Oh, that makes me feel better,” you laughed. “Are you saying I’m a prostitute, Daryl?”

“Nah,” he replied, shaking his head, and by extension rubbing his nose side-to-side against your cheek, making you giggle. “You’re just a beautiful woman, and Merle ain’t ever seen a woman like you.”

You rolled your eyes and snorted at the assumption that you were anything special, but you knew Daryl thought you were special, and apparently Merle did, too. “Well, he better get used to me,” you said, turning to match your lips up to his. “Because I’m going to be around for a long time.”

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audacioussly · 2 months

Text

━━ introducing derya of house lannister and harlaw, lady of casterly rock and the westerlands. the steel siren.

BASICS.

full name : derya lannister nee harlaw

name meaning : sea

nicknames : rya

epithets : the steel siren

titles : ruling lady of casterly rock, ruling lady of the westerlands

gender / pronouns : cis woman / she/her

sexuality : heteromantic

date of birth : on the twenty ninth day of the eight month

age : five and thirty years

zodiac : virgo

place of birth : ten towers, the iron islands, westeros

accent : iron islander

languages : common tongue, old tongue, high valyrian

allegiance : house lannister and house harlaw

APPEARANCE.

faceclaim : beren saat

height : 5′7″

eye color : blue/grey

hair color : dark brunette

dominant hand : right handed

MEDICAL.

mental : n/a

physical : n/a

PERSONALITY.

positive traits : eloquent & charming

negative traits : cunning & secretive

hobbies : map reading, sailing, swimming

RELATIONSHIPS.

parents : ruling lord rodrik harlaw; father [ 61 ] & ruling lady alannys harlaw; mother [ 60 ]

siblings : ser utp harlaw; brother [ 36 ]lady utp harlaw; younger sister [ 29-34 ]

extended family : lady cynda lannister; good sister [ 40 ]

spouse : ruling lord jarrad lannister; [ 40 ]

children : tbd

pets : n/a

BIO.

oceara was the first female born to house harlaw, for difficult that is to believe at the time their parents anxiously awaited a girl to marry off, and got more that they bargained for. their first female born of their house had the potential to become betrothed to the first son of some great house and create that alliance her family was so desperate for.

she was educated and instructed to be nothing but the greatest Iron wife the Iron Islands had ever seen, and she was happy to oblige. it was almost as if that had been the only purpose and mission in life. beautiful and captivating as the sea she grew up in, cceara was quick to become the iron siren, many came from far a wide to try and win her hand in marriage, some with big fortunes and titles, yet not enough to entice the lord harlaw.

one betrothal was finally chosen for her when she was 19, she had no reason to complain, however the lord of house lannister came and out did the last suitor propping ruling lord harlaw to break the betrothal and instead hand over his daughter as the next ruling lady of house lannister.

it was a hard adjustment for the iron born to live in the westerlands, but like any iron woman she endured, she managed, the place became her home during the years.

the first year was the hardest, between finding her footing and her voice, as well as learning the costumes and getting to know her husband. but in jarrad she found a partner a friend, and love followed. together they were the power couple of the kingdom. their first born came not long after the consummation of their marriage and surprisingly to everyone, including herself, she seemed to not be able to stop having children. Healthy and breezy pregnancies, one after another, word of her traveled all over different corners of the kingdom. Thought to be blessed by one of the seven gods, the mother, even if that wasn’t her religion at the time. But slowly and surely the drown god became only one of her many gods.

oceara hates the idea of coming to the capital, completely opposed to the idea of her daily life getting disrupted by such travels. she is all catering to her children and her husband, the formalities, pleasantries are completely lost on her. nor she cares for them. however politics are her strong forte, and her smarts tell her it can only be beneficial. she also knows the place of her children and herself are next to her husband and family, specially in the red keep where they represent the westerlands proudly. oceara is prideful of whom she is and where she comes from, but unlike most of the females of the sea she is quite polite and plays nice unless provoked otherwise. many would say her wits would’ve taken her further if her parents would’ve pushed her to be more than a good wife and great mother, but if you ask her she wouldn’t have it any other way.

II. EXTRAS & OTHER THINGS

oceara's biggest pleasure and accomplishment is being a mother, she denied the help of milk nurses and the such for as long as she could, she prefers taking care of his children on her own

her last pregnancy with the twin boys was her hardest to date, it almost took her life and that of her children. it left her with a very sour taste in her mouth and is now scared of conceiving again

the one thing she misses the most about the iron islands is being near bodies of water, the late night swims, the smell of the ocean

CONNECTIONS.

childhood friends; someone who has been inseparable from oceara from a young age and potentially even followed her to the westerlands

first love; self explanatory, open to anyone from the iron islands, reasons why it was broken/separated can be plotted together

friends she's made since becoming ruling lady; this can be all kinds, once who are really friends to those maybe only seeking the favor of her house

#westeros.intro #derya lannister— about

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coramulciber · 2 years

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→ diagon alley is home to many , a direct connection to the wizarding world , right in the centre of london , many people like CORALINE MULCIBER , spend majority of her time in the busy alley , people know her as the twenty-three year old who is a past ravenclaw graduate , now working as a SHOP OWNER (HEMLOCK HERBOLOGY SUPPLY) , i think the role suits them perfectly as i think they are LOYAL but also they can be TIRED , but that's just my opinion . ( dove cameron )

→ NAME: coraline délia mulciber → NICKNAMES: cora, lina → AGE / D.O.B.: 23 years old → SPECIES: pureblood wizard → GENDER / PRONOUNS: cis female / she&her → SEXUALITY: bisexual → RELATIONSHIP STATUS: single

FAMILY

→ PARENTS: aaron mulciber, délia laurent mulciber → SIBLINGS: henri (22/23), jean (18), lucie (15), marcel (12), théa (10) → COUSINS: ? → PETS: beau (big white dog)

LIFESTYLE

→ BORN: marseille, france → RAISED: london, england (from age 10), previously marseille → CURRENT RESIDENCE: london, england → NATIONALITY: french → LANGUAGES: french, english → OCCUPATION: runs hemlock herbology supply (her father’s business prior to his arrest) → DRINK | SMOKE | DRUGS: yes / sometimes / no → RELIGION: no

PHYSICAL ATTRIBUTES

→ FACE CLAIM: dove cameron → HEIGHT: 5ft 0in → HAIR: white blonde, straight → EYE COLOR: blue → DOMINANT HAND: left → SCENT: lavender perfume → NERVOUS HABITS: tbd

CHARACTER

→ MORAL ALIGNMENT: tbd → MBTI: tbd → WESTERN ZODIAC: tbd → SONG: pomegranate seeds by julian moon

MAGIC

→ WAND: tbd → PATRONUS: can’t make one, but it’d be a cat → BOGGART: various family/friends dead from injuries he tried and failed to treat

BIO

the mulcibers came over from marseille when cora was ten (and henri was nine, and jean was six, and lucie was three...)

her father had run a successful herbology supply / exotic plant import business there, but there’d been a little too much attention on the books

mother never liked england, never wanted any part of it, was always back in marseille for one reason or another. father was always busy with something that looked suspiciously not like a plant. eleven-year-old cora’s brushing lucie’s hair and getting jean ready for lessons.

her mother goes through periods of being more involved, suspiciously coinciding with the arrival of cora’s two youngest siblings. who suspiciously don’t look much like the rest of the family.

by fifth year, lucie’s tutor knows to write to cora with concerns instead of to mr & mrs mulciber. cora feels guilty whenever she’s at school, knowing things slowly fall apart when she and henri aren’t home. there are housekeepers, there are tutors, but there aren’t parents.

sixth year, henri does something out of line to that muggleborn girl. maybe cora saw, maybe she didn’t, but she certainly helped to hide the evidence. he’s the only one around that’s more of a help than a hindrance, she’s not going to risk losing him.

right at the end of seventh year, her father gets arrested for smuggling and some other unsavoury things. before the end of that summer, her mother just up and leaves. cora doesn’t know to where (or precisely why).

so cora’s eighteen, now completely responsible for four kids.

she opens the books to her father’s herbology business, tries to figure out how to keep it running without ending up in azkaban like he did. it’s not easy, but somehow it works.

maybe her father’s old friends are propping it up, maybe it’s just luck, god knows. she’s not questioning it. there’s no more live-in cooks and housekeepers, but nothing’s collapsed yet.

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genderisareligion · 1 year

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Happy New Year 🖤 Anons I got y’all soon. January is a nostalgic month for this blog cause it’s the two year anniversary of me being (formerly) shadowbanned also January 6th 2021 was what I like to call a Peak Everything moment for me. Peak Christianity, peak crackerdom, peak toxic masculinity, peak gender, peak humanity lol shit. Spent a year and some change invisible (but not termed 🙏🏽) for the crime of making too many trans racial jokes I guess and the blog I tried to make a replacement for this @genderisareligion immediately received the same fate. I suspect what actually caused it was my constant participation in my pinned post back then and the lack of answers anyone had for me but who knows. And I don’t know why because I didn’t request it but my blog’s visibility came back suddenly this April I wanna say. Here’s hoping it sticks🤞🏽

Anyway in 2023 along with finally publishing WOCTBI (Women of Color Taking Back Intersectionality, a little chapbook/magazine I wanna put together documenting nonwhite radblr’s posts and conversations, will likely be an ebook now instead of print) I do kinda wanna go in a different direction here. It’s not that I don’t think the trans conversation still needs to be happening, it does, homosexuals and women’s boundaries are still being eroded at an alarmingly rapid rate, I’ve just always been critical of all gender, “cis,” trans, up, down, no matter who’s participating. I’m not a “TERF blog” it’s in my url as a joke lol I’m just a black woman who got fed up with being polite on main being told to kill myself for reminding people humans are sexually dimorphic. Never even been a “TERF” cause I fully admit I’m a hypocrite and will in real life fully respect the pronouns/experiences of transmed normies who mind their own business, especially lesbian TIFs, but crackers like Dana Rivers and Dylan Mulvaney and all these “suck my girldick” transbians get he/him idgaf. So many of these males are so comfortable in their privilege they won’t combust if one less black women gasses them up

Wild how hypocritical and unable to admit it the “tolerant progressive left” is claiming that actually trans liberation is the key to ending black women’s oppression despite it being a recent invention and inherently having nothing to do with us and causing these crackers to run around telling me I look more like a male than other females. Like until this backwards shit ends I guess my opinions will continue to be “TERFy” cause I will never think this is okay, black women always come last and are always expected to be an expendible emotional and rhetorical resource to activist groups. This is why I’ve been politically homeless for so many years, doesn’t seem to matter where I go the message is the same: you exist to prop someone else up and you’re not allowed to complain about anything or it means all the help I’ve been giving you is bunk. BLM is something a shit ton of people just say and don’t do anything about because it’s too difficult. #SayHerName couldn’t keep the masses attention long enough and black women are still being killed with seemingly no end in sight. Will never not be crazy to me that in a decade “lesbians don’t like dick” did a complete 180 and became sacreligious to liberals.

I’ll just be here with my popcorn waiting for when inevitably sometime within the next decade or two a lot of these begendered crackers and their allies wake up and look back at the catastrophic mess they caused for some people and scramble to wipe their hands of it and act like it was all a conservative psyop they played no part in or whatever. Fact of the matter is that not everyone on HRT or going under the knife for SRS are doing so for good reasons and fact of the matter is transtrenders are making a mockery of those with actual sex dysphoria. Acting like any criticism of that at all is “transphobic and genocidal” is batshit insane. Like my intention with this blog at first was to try and help if anyone out there is saved by understanding that gender is fake at the end of the day, like I was.

So anyway I’ll be posting more on just feminism in general and gender criticism in general because imo radical feminism is just feminism or at least it used to be. This “TERF” shit gotta go can’t believe such a boogeyman nondescript term got so popular

#shadow.txt #coming back to add I’m not even against transition in all cases if I’ve never said that formally #sometimes it works like I know and love people it worked for #would I do it? hell fucking no but I’m not a beacon of self care lol #I just think gender doesn’t have anything to do with it #and actual trans people are rarer than it currently appears #controversial take but it’s a medical condition in need of treatment #sex not gender

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v-hope · 3 years

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MINIMONI’S SPANISH

#NO I’M NOT CRYING YOU ARE #also props to them for keeping the female pronouns #any other person would’ve changed them bc Fragile Masculinity lol #bts #muster 2021 #bts festa #namjoon #jimin #joon #vid #;mine

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absolutelyfizzing · 3 years

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Motherly

Harry x reader

Description - Y/N loves taking care of her friends but after a night of drinking it seems like they don't want her to. She worries that they might not want her around and panics. They ease her worries and harry has something to confess.

Word count - 4700 (my god that seems excessive)

Warnings - insecure reader, mentions of eating, female pronouns, some description of panic attack, underage drinking, maybe a little ooc for harry at the beginning. angst at the beginning but it turns into fluff. If you just want the heartbreak you could stop halfway through cause thats a mood and same.

A/N - I had to bring Luna into this because she is an angel and the love of my life. Harry is my favorite idiot and Ron is an angel. Anyway I'm done, just a notice that there is description of a mild panic attack, this is based on how they feel for me. The insecurities are also based on me. This is just to say that this in no way means that this writing is supposed to be universal and i in no way mean to offend.

MASTERLIST

You had been taking care of Harry for as long as you had known him. When you met him on the train you realized that you wanted to protect him and keep him safe. He had already been through enough. Unfortunately, that didn't exactly work out. Over the years you would try to help him but he inevitably found himself in deep trouble and in need of help. You were always happy to fill that role, not that you were always successful. You would do anything for him. especially once you realized that you had real and hard feelings for the young wizard. You saw him and the way he looked at other girls, you knew he didn't like you in that way. So instead of saying anything, you just didn't mention it and continued to give him your all.

You took care of all of your friends most of the time. You enjoyed being needed. That was why, while standing in the corner of the party, you were ready to step in to help any of your friends. There was almost always a party after every match and Harry normally got pretty wasted. You stayed sober most of the time so you could take care of your friends if you needed to. You had held Hermione's hair back multiple times. She partied rarely but when she did it was intense. You also liked to keep your eye on Harry who would get decidedly out of it and would often find himself passed out somewhere uncomfortable or unable to keep his dinner down. You felt his eyes on you and he made his way towards you. You could tell from looking at him that he was properly wasted. He wasn't blackout but a few more drinks and he would be. You smiled at him as brightly as you could.

"Why aren't you drinking?" He slurred. His face was contorted in confusion and you felt your smile falter for a second, not that he noticed.

"I just wanna be ready in case someone needs me. You know how 'Mione gets." You smiled and nodded over to where Hermione was passed out on the couch.

"It's not your responsibility though, you don't have to take care of everyone." He mumbled and you thought you heard anger in his voice. Like he was annoyed at you. You just looked at him with kind eyes and a questioning gaze. You tried to not look offended but you didn't know what he was implying. Before you could ask, Harry spoke again. "You act like you're the mom of the group, that you have to take care of everyone. You don't need to do that." He seemed exasperated.

"I don't mind. I like being able to help." You smiled at him, trying to explain your mindset to a very drunk harry.

"I never said you didn't like it but nobody else does. I didn't ask you to try and be my mum, okay?" He grumbled out and turned away like he hadn't just said something very upsetting to you. You felt your smile falter for a moment before you took a deep breath. It was fine. You needed to move on. You made your way to the couch Hermione was laying across and you leant down to her level. Your hand brushed the thick hair out of her face and you tried to gently wake her up.

" 'Mione? I'm gonna head up to bed, do you need anything?" You asked, sort of hoping that she would say yes. You found a lot of your purpose in others needing you and after the rejection you just faced from Harry you were hoping for someone to say they wanted you around.

Hermione's face scrunched up before her eyes opened. "No, I don't need anything. Please just leave me alone Y/N? I know you're like needy or whatever but I'm trying to have a fun night for once." She mumbled the last part under her breath but you heard it perfectly clear. You could feel your heart rate increase as you began to panic. Was this always the case? You were overly needy and you acted like it was for the benefit of others? You never wanted to make anyone feel smothered but you thought you were helping. You looked around the room desperately, trying to find someone who would confirm to you that you were important to them. That someone needed you. Your eyes met those of your best ginger friend who was sufficiently wasted. You began to walk over to him but he quickly tried to bolt out of your line of sight and you stopped in your tracks. You felt tears well up and you took a deep breath. You knew you were no longer wanted in your group of friends, at least not at a time when they were all trying to let loose. You understood and you tried not to be offended. You knew you were a lot to deal with sometimes and that your instinct to care could be smothering. You turned to the portrait hole and left the common room. You didn't know where you were planning on going but it was not going to be where you came from. If your friends needed space then you would give it to them. You just wanted them to be happiest.

You ended up wandering the halls for a long time. You didn't have a particular purpose besides just not being in the common room and you didn't want to go back until you thought most people would probably be asleep. About 2 hours after you had left, you headed back toward the portrait hole. After whispering the password you entered the now quiet room where you saw your friends and a few others passed out around the place. You sighed and pushed the bad feelings away before getting to taking care of them. Ron and Harry were near each other, propped up against the wall, cups of alcohol around them. You grabbed a couple pillows and blankets and brought them over to them. You set the pillows down and slowly maneuvered both boys so they were laying comfortably with warm blankets on top of them. You spent an extra second to brush Harry's black hair out of his face and you traced his scar lightly. You remembered his words from earlier and quickly moved away, fearing he would wake up and remind you that he didn't want you taking care of him.

You made your way to Hermione who you managed to wake a bit. She was not as grumpy as she had been earlier and you slung one of her arms over your shoulders, slowly getting both of you up the stairs and to the dorms. You placed her on her bed and removed her shoes. You then grabbed a makeup removing pad and got to work on cleaning her face. She was normally religious about her skincare routine and so you thought she might appreciate getting her face clean so she distant sleep in her makeup.

You sighed a bit as you tucked her into her bad, her eyes closed and she had drifted off to sleep a while ago. You decided that if they said anything about their distain for your mothering tendencies tomorrow, then you would stop. You hoped though that their words were only spoken because they were drunk, not because they only had the courage to tell you when they were drunk.

The next morning you heard Hermione grumble from the bed beside you, you knew her hangover would probably be rough so you got up quickly to grab her a glass of water, feeling the urge to make her morning easier. When you saw the look on her face, you wished you would have stayed in bed. You were walking toward her, water in hand but she was glaring right through you.

"You know I can do that myself, right? I'm not a baby." She huffed and you blinked at her. You didn't know why it seemed that all of a sudden your friends no longer wanted you to be around them.

"Sorry" You mumbled and you set the glass down on her nightstand, quickly going back to your bed and dressing, rushing out of the room to make your way to the dining hall. Your stomach was in knots as you reflected on the things your friends had treated you the night before. Tears pricked at your eyes. It was still very early in the morning so you were thankful to see that there were very few people at the large tables. You made your way to an empty spot and sat down, slightly wondering why you came at all. You supposed it was out of habit but you were not in any way hungry, stress filling the space that food usually would. You instead grabbed a goblet and filled it with water and drank slowly and quietly, contemplating how you would move throughout the day. There was suddenly a presence beside you and you looked to your left to see none other than Luna Lovegood. Her blue tie was knotted in a way that made it look like a butterfly and you couldn't help but feel a bit better at the sight. She smiled gently at you and you patted the space next to you as a gesture for her to sit down.

"You seem off today" She stated in a matter of fact sort of way, as if it was not up for debate. You pondered your next words carefully.

"Luna, do you think I act overly motherly?" You asked softly and she looked at you knowingly. she reached over to you and played with a bit of your hair before putting her hand back in her lap.

"I would say that you act motherly, there is a bit of a gray area in 'overly'." She stated simply. You sighed a bit at the realization that nobody wanted you to be this way. Luna wrapped one pinky around one of yours and pulled your hand into the space between you two. While holding pinkies she smiled at you. "I know sometimes people don't like being reliant on others, I know that some of your friends are reliant on you. Your love language is acts of service and care and that doesn't make you overbearing. I'm also guessing your friends wouldn't last very long without you taking care of them." She blinked at you before getting up and heading back to her friends at the Ravenclaw table. You smiled after the strange girl and you forgot about why you were upset for a moment. That moment unfortunately left fairly quickly when you saw red hair enter your line of sight. Ron and Harry made their way over to the table with sour looks on their face. They sat across from you but kept their eyes down. You thought for a moment about speaking but you were too worried. You simply chugged the rest of your water and smiled at the boys who met your eyes briefly. You stood and hurried to leave the hall, not wanting to upset anyone but feeling anxiety creep up you arms. You liked taking care of people, it was what you wished someone would do for you. It made you feel wanted and being wanted was essential to your self esteem. You placed a lot of your worth on what you could offer others and when you no longer felt you were wanted or needed, the rest of the wall began to crumble as well. You decided that if your friends didn't want you to be overbearing then you would try to stay out of their way. You just wanted them to be comfortable.

You made your way to the dorm, Hermione heading out as you walked in. You offered her a kind smile which she slightly reciprocated. She braced herself for questions about her state but none came. You were already through the portrait hole before she could really process that you hadn't said anything to her. That was very unlike you. She knew she had been grumpy that morning but she figured you would understand. She brushed off her bad feeling though and began moving quicker toward the dining hall. When she got to the long tables she spotted the boys she needed to speak to. They looked up at her with tired eyes, all of them feeling the effects of the night before.

"Did you notice anything weird about Y/N this morning?" She questioned lightly, trying to to speak too loud and upset any of their headaches.

"We thought you might know what was going on. She didn't even talk to us." Harry stated rather worriedly. All of them conversed about why you might be acting strange but couldn't come up with any big reasons unless something happened the night before. None of them exactly remembered any details so it was a bit hard to tell.

Back in the dorm room you tried to calm your breathing as you gathered your books. Your eyes stung with tears and you questioned whether your friends even liked you. You wished one of them wouldn't have pushed you away last night but now you felt that maybe they all disliked you and just kept you around out of pity. You made the decision that you would not take care of them. You didn't want them to be upset at you and maybe if you showed them you could be independent then they wouldn't feel the need to humor you.

You made your way to your first class, eyes slightly swollen and hands shaky. You knew you would have to sit next to Harry like you always did but you expected you wouldn't have any issues with avoiding annoying him. He wasn't one to ask questions and he was normally pretty oblivious.

Still, when you say down you felt his eyes on you. You looked over at him, smiling for a moment when your eyes met his before turning back to the front of the class. The rest of the period felt odd to both of you.

Normally, you would do little things for Harry during class. You would whisper help to him under your breath, fix his spelling when he needed it, find the right page in his book when he couldn't, and so on. When you didn't do that, he felt a bit lost. You weren't acting off in any way besides your lack of taking care of him. He wanted to ask what was wrong but by the time class ended and there was a moment to get a word in, you were already out the classroom door. You knew you had to get out of there before Harry noticed the way that tears were trying to fall from your eyes.

You felt your lungs contract in sadness as you rushed through the corridors, trying to get to your next class. It would be a bit of a challenge because it was with Hermione. She usually got help with flash cards and corrections from you, both of you being very smart in your studies. Instead, today you were quiet. She wondered if she should ask but she had never had to before and if you were upset then she didn't want to make it any worse. Instead she worked quietly and glanced at you occasionally. She noticed the bags under your eyes and how your face was a bit puffy. She grew concerned that you were upset about how she acted that morning. She decided she would talk to you as soon as class was over.

Unfortunately you left class before she could. You hurried out of class, Hermione calling a bit after you but you didn't hear her and she got too caught up in the crowd to reach you. Ron, the least likely to ask questions, stopped you in the masses in the hallway. People swirled around you two and he gave you a worried look. You noticed that he had dirt on his face, not an odd occurrence with the redhead, but you tried to prevent yourself from fixing it. Normally you would rub at it while he grumbled and you would laugh it off because you felt useful. Now, seeing the patch of dirt and not wanting to make him uncomfortable by fixing it, you just felt upset. Ron's hand on your arms tightened a bit when you made a move to leave.

"Y/N, whats wrong?" Ron seemed genuinely concerned. You felt so confused. One day they didn't want you near them and the now it seemed that they could tell something was off. You though they would be happy to have you off their back. Instead of answering Ron, your breath left your lungs. You could feel the space around you tighten and your hands went numb and your breathing picked up. Ron recognized this behavior of yours but he had never dealt with it on his own. He thought of what Hermione would do and pulled you into his chest to block you from the slowly decreasing traffic around you both. He felt your hands hold onto the front of his cloaks and your shoulders shook with what he guessed was crying. He spotted a bush of big hair and a mop of black in the crowd and he shot his hand up, hoping to catch their attention. They spotted him and made their way over.

By the time they arrived the crowds of the halls were pretty much dissipated and you had yet to slow your panicking. Your breath was rapid and your hands shook, you couldn't let go of Ron's cloak but he made no move to remove you. They all were silently grateful that this was a free period for all of you.

"What happened? Ron, what did you do?" Hermione accused and he glared at her.

"I just grabbed her in the hall to talk and she got all panicky, I was trying to do that thing you do with her but I don't think it worked." He mumbled. He felt guilty that he didn't know how to help you but he was glad to have the brains of the operation there now to fix whatever he did wrong.

"Sorry Ron, you're trying your best." Hermione mumbled her apology before speaking softly to you. "Y/N? Honey? Are you alright?" She tried to be gentle and she brought her hand up to rest on your shoulder. You flinched at the contact so she removed the hand. You felt Ron move and for some reason that startled you into the realization that you were holding onto him and he probably didn't want that. You let go of him quickly and stepped back from him a bit, a scared look on your face.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry" You mumbled and your legs nearly gave out. Harry wrapped you in his arms and sunk to the ground so you were both sitting. He started to stroke your hair slowly and rub your back, knowing those are things that you had done for them when they were upset.

"You don't have anything to be sorry for, Y/N. It's okay" Harry whispered in your ear and you let out a choked sob.

"I do though- I do, I have to apologize. I'm sorry that I have to take care of you and I smother you. I promise I don't mean to and I know it's-"

"Whoa whoa whats going on? Who said anything about smothering?" Harry asked genuinely and you sniffled before realizing they didn't remember what they said.

"You did." They barely head the small whisper and they all looked at each other. None of them could remember what they said last night but they all felt guilty instantly. They were all the kind of people that would sometimes get snappy when they drank but they normally didn't all drink at the same time. This meant that there was someone with you to take the heat and that there was someone there to rationalize it with you. They remembered that they had all drank except you and they deduced that they must have snapped at you at the same time.

"We are so sorry, Y/N" Hermione started. "You know how we get, it was not about you. Oh god I'm so sorry." She put her face in her hands and she though about how you had reacted when she got snappy this morning, you must have already been sensitive to it and she had pushed you over the edge.

"I promise we didn't mean anything we said, we love that you keep us in check, Y/N." Ron chimed in and Harry hummed in agreement along side him. You shook your head a bit, not believing them. You were so sure that you bothered them and at this moment they were trying to help out of pity.

"It's okay, you guys don't have to deal with it if you don't want to. I'm sorry I've to act so motherly and I-" You continued rambling but Harry felt something click in his head. He remembered saying that you acted motherly and he felt his stomach turn. He grabbed your head and pulled it into him so he could kiss your hair.

"You are perfect, Y/N" he mumbled. "We are just idiots who say stupid stuff when we're drunk. Please don't blame yourself, you haven't done anything wrong." Your shaking was lessened and you lifted your head a bit.

"Ron didn't actually say anything, he just booked it when he saw me." You almost chuckled and you reminded yourself that that was what he did to everyone when he drank. They laughed along as well, just thrilled that you were no longer having a panic attack.

"Let's go to the great hall and get you some water, yeah?" Hermione asked and you nodded.

Harry helped get you up by getting up first and then lifting you by your waist to standing. He held you there for a moment to see if you were stable enough on your own and you were. You turned to Ron and licked a thumb before rubbing the dirt off of his face. He grumbled significantly less this time than he normally would and Hermione and Harry looked at each other in relief. You all made your way to the great hall where you got some water and snacks. Pretty soon you were feeling much better and you decided you were going to take the rest of the day off and walk to the black lake. Harry volunteered to go with you and he nodded at Hermione and Ron to let them know that it was okay to leave.

You both walked rather quietly to the lake, it was a rare occasion that both you and Harry were alone and that it was sunny outside. Your face warmed in the sun and your eyes closed as you walked, trying to be careful not to trip. Eventually you both made it next to the lake and you set your robe down for you and harry to sit on. Your heart sped up at the lack of space between you two but you didn't want to push him closer out of fear of him leaving. His words had affected you the most last night and you hadn't forgotten them. As if sensing your unease, he spoke up.

"I am truly sorry, you know." He mumbled guiltily and you looked over at him.

"I know, it's okay. All is forgi-"

"No, I'm really sorry, Y/N. I know I hurt you last night and I couldn't regret it more." He insisted and you felt tears come back. You weren't panicking or even sad, you were both happy that he recognized his words and still vaguely worried he meant them.

"Did you mean any of it?" You almost whispered and Harry's heart twinged.

"Of course not." He stated. You gave him a look that said to cut the bull shit. "I didn't. You do act motherly, but that doesn't mean we don't all like it." You couldn't decide if that made you feel better or not. "Can I tell you something that might embarrass me?" He asked hesitantly and you nodded. "You are the person who has taken care of me the most in my life." You gave him a questioning look.

"Look, since I got on that train 6 years ago you have been there for me, you've taken care of me and tried to help me, even when I was being a jerk. You never made fun of me for not always getting good marks, you're at every quidditch match, you always listen when I get upset at what I am getting put through. You act more like a caretaker for me than anyone ever has." He was speaking so softly that it barely sounded like him. You felt a tear roll down your face and before you had a chance to wipe it away, he did. His hand brushed under your eye and then went back into his lap. "I feel guilty that I cant give the same back to you and-"

"Harry, you don't have to-"

"Please let me finish." He pleaded and he put his hand on top of your in your lap. You nodded again. "I care about you more than anyone else and I cant help but feel that I would never be able to repay you for all you've done for me. For all the support you've given me." He took a deep breath. "I think that last night, in my messed up and drunk mind, I thought that pushing you to stop taking care of me would make it so that I wouldn't feel guilty for not being able to do the same for you. And I know that that didn't work at all and of course that is the worst way possible to go about that but I just want you to know that it was all on me and it had nothing to do with how you behave. I love all that you do for me, I just never know how to give it back." When he was done you tackled him in a hug. His arms wrapped around you as well and you smiled into the hug. When you pulled back there was a blush on his cheeks.

"You know, I was talking to Luna earlier and she mentioned that my love language is acts of service."

"Love that girl" Harry mumbled passively as he remembered all the times that she had given him strange and profound knowledge that he didn't know he needed.

"Agreed. Anyway, it just reminded me that it's the way I show that I care. I like to be needed and I like to help. I don't need anything in return, I appreciate all of the ways that you guys show you care about me." You smiled. "Hermione always reminds me about the homework and makes sure I go to bed on time, even if it means she has to stop studying too. Ron always reminds me to eat and how much his family loves me, sort of implying that he does too even if he wont say it. And you always give me hugs after quidditch matches and you give me your extra chocolate frogs. That's all I will ever need from you, you don't owe me anything for me just trying to show that I care." When you were finished, Harry was beaming at you.

"I love you." He suddenly blurted.

"I love you to-"

"No I mean like love you love you. Like I have romantic feeling for you." He pushed out and he felt his heart pound in his chest in fear. You smiled at him.

"I feel the same way about you. I love you too" You beamed and he sighed in relief before pulling you into him to kiss you. You spent rest of the day by the black lake, basking in the sun and each other.

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kohakuarisaka · 3 years

Text

God is a Woman (2 of 3)

Takami Keigo x (fem!)Reader

[ SUMMARY ] You loved his dominant side, every flavor of raw passion he could possibly conjure up to offer you. You trusted him to let boundaries be crossed, knowing he would guide you back to safety. Maybe, it was why you wanted a chance to do the same for him. When you asked if you could dom this weekend, you were surprised at how easily he said yes.

[ WARNINGS ] R18+ for graphic sexual content and language. Reader is also a hero. Pre-existing relationship. Female reader with female genitalia and pronouns. No pegging, no male penetration. Topping from the bottom. Romantic relationship. Oral sex. Penis in vagina sex. Consensual sex. Wing kink. Dom/Sub tones. Bondage. Femdom. Mommy kink. Degradation & praise. Dirty talk. No use of protection. Choking & rough play. Biting & scratching. Bratty sub Keigo.

Chapter 1 • Chapter 2 • Chapter 3

[ My BNHA Fanfic Masterlist ] ~ [ Also on my AO3 ]

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It was sunny Saturday morning, not overbearingly warm, with just the slightest breeze, and of course plenty of noise from the wildlife, specifically the birds gathering on the tree right outside the back door.

Keigo had spent a good few hours mopping the floorboards on the back patio, with the ambiance of the tiny, feathered beasts to ease his thoughts, to keep his headspace in this house and not the world beyond, to what was waiting for him at Musutafu.

It didn't take long for the surface to dry, and he sprawled out on the back patio, just shy of the sunlight, in the safety of the shade beneath the awning. He had left the door open to let the sounds of chirping birds carry into the house.

You caught the sight of him when crossing the hallway and approached with a smile, mystified by the sight presented to you.

When he was Hawks, he was so composed, dressed up in a fancy hero costume with his hair pushed back by a visor and headphones, shoulders back and head held high. You didn't dare want to take moments like this for granted, when he looked normal, wearing civilian clothes with his hair a mess.

He was propped up on his side, his shirt rucked up, exposing an inch or so of his toned abdomen, and the wiry blonde hairs that grew there. Loose shorts were hanging low on his hips, exposing the hem of his boxers. He had one leg stretched out, propped, the other bent at the knee, tucked beneath the other.

He was reading again, the same book from yesterday from what you could tell, and was leaning up on one elbow while his opposite hand held the book at eye level, roughly. He was focused on it intensely, not even glancing over his shoulder to look at you.

Keigo's wings were laid out behind him, draped along the wood surface of the patio, red plumes spread out in a beautiful assortment. The ends fluttered softly in the breeze, like his wild hair. The bases of the twin appendages could be seen moving oh so subtly with each inhale and exhale, shifting with his chest.

You were careful not to step on his wings as you approached, before kneeling on the space behind him. He heard you coming, of course, and didn't immediately react when you shimmied in close behind him, slotting your body into the curve of his back.

His wings shifted to give you room to nuzzle into the space between them, at the center of his back. It resulted in one wing partially draped over you, not that you minded in the slightest, while the other spread out along the floor behind you. It looked a little silly, but Keigo didn't seem uncomfortable.

"You're supposed to be relaxing," you scolded him softly.

Keigo set his book down and pushed it away before wiggling around a little, spreading his wings out so you had room to hold him from behind. Your legs tangled with his and your arm wound loosely around his waist.

He let out an amused huff. "Reading is relaxing," he argued gently.

"Not war manuscripts," you laughed. "You never stop working."

Keigo didn't acknowledge that statement. You almost regretted it, if not for the fact that he relaxed in your grip, leaning into the weight of you encouragingly. You had all the time in the world to discuss that, when you were in your costumes, speaking each other's hero names. Here, in this house, he was Takami Keigo, to you and only you. He didn't need to be Hawks right now, even if he couldn't stop.

For a short while, Keigo was quiet, letting your hand slide up into his shirt and explore the expansion of muscles adorning his chest. Then, suddenly, he let out an amused snort.

"Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Yes," you answered immediately, without any shame.

It wasn't every day that you got to see him, let alone touch him like this, and it didn't skip your mind what an honor this was: getting to touch winged hero Hawks' muscles was something many dreamt about, if the tabloids were anything to go by.

His wings were impressive, to say the least. Watching him fly at speeds rivaling a jet plane was truly a spectacle to witness, and he had great control over every individual plume; but, he didn't get that way without hard work. His chest and back were well toned, shoulders wide and strong, to be able to support such large appendages.

Keigo would never describe his wings as 'heavy'; that would imply that they were a burden or an unwanted weight. But, he had to be strong to carry so many feathers around, and he liked to let his plumes grew long and strong, when he could.

Plus, there was no denying that you liked this, that he let you touch him, that he sagged against the floor and hummed quietly, clearly enjoying the feeling of your hand wandering, ogling him with bizarre fascination, as if nothing more beautiful had ever crossed you before him.

But, that was the truth, wasn't it?

Sometimes, you couldn't help but wonder what you had done to deserve this, to have someone like Keigo deliver himself to your door and not someone else's, that he sought you out, and wanted you.

Someone like him, who could have anyone he wanted; yet, he came to you, a nobody hero, one of many faces that would be long forgotten. But, that wasn't true to Keigo. To him, you were one of a kind, his hero if you could be no one else's. If there was ever light at the end of the tunnel, it was you. If there was calm after the storm, it was you.

You, who looked at him like you were blessed to have him, when he thought it was quite the opposite. What did he ever do to deserve this, a beautiful woman who waited for him to come home, never once doubting that he would.

Keigo took hold of your hand and brought it to his face, laying a lingering kiss against your knuckles. You scooted in closer to him, if such a thing was possible, until you were flush against his back. Your hand slid free after a short while and continued exploring his skin, smoothing over the expansion of his chest.

"Are you sick of me being in charge?" you asked, sincere.

"You're in charge?" Keigo retorted softly, pepping up his tone a little to make it clear he was joking.

You pinched his nipple in retaliation and smiled into his shirt when he hissed softly.

"Minx," he scolded.

"Chickadee," you replied, rubbing your cheek into the back of his shoulder, dragging the fabric of his shirt around in the process.

"I'm a mighty bird of prey," he corrected you softly.

You leaned up a little and pressed a kiss at the exposed skin at the apex of his spine, humming an agreeing, "yeah."

Keigo turned his head and looked at you expectedly. With a soft groan, you sat up and awkwardly leaned over him until your mouth met his. He might not have been a hulking giant; but, he was still bigger than you. He could have easily rolled over and shadowed you.

The kiss didn't last long before you leaned back and started rucking Keigo's shirt up until it was wrinkled beneath his wings. He laughed softly, deep in his chest, and retreated from you, but only a little bit.

You watched as his wings moved around carefully, pulling the fabric up until they were freed from the garment. He pulled it up over his head, through the arms, and laid back down, arching into you expectedly.

You wasted no time continuing where you had left off, kissing at the top of his back. You blazed a trail along his shoulders and felt his wings shudder, one draped over your body like a living blanket. His feathers might have been still, but you could feel their weight, feel the faintest movements, bristles touching at your skin unconsciously.

Your mouth trailed down, along his spine, nibbling on the soft, untouched skin between his wings. Keigo wiggled beside you, partially out of pleasure and partially because he was, embarrassingly so, ticklish there. It was natural, really, being a sensitive place that harbored his wings, a place no one touched.

"Is that bad?" you asked softly, murmuring into his skin.

"No," he uttered hoarsely, unable to bite back the clear frustration in his tone.

One of your hands was curled on the ground to balance yourself, while the other trailed down the length of his torso. You pushed the hem of his shorts and boxers down and groped at his buttocks, humming approvingly at the firmness of his flesh.

"Yeah, you're definitely enjoying yourself," Keigo chuckled out in an amused tone, continuing to fidget faintly as you shamelessly felt him up.

Usually, this was the other way around. Usually, he held you down, covered you with his calloused hands and nipped at your skin. There wasn't an inch of you he hadn't touched, very few places on you he hadn't kissed, plenty of places he had licked, even when you squealed in protest.

He wasn't shy, by any means, and you weren't a stranger. After all these years, all you had been through together, there was no one Keigo held as closely. He trusted you more than anyone or anything. You knew his name, for fucks sake.

Like this, you weren't exactly trying to exercise restraint. He could feel the weight of you pressing against him, squishy breasts smooshed into his back, silky smooth legs tangled with his. Your toes were curled against his calf, knee digging into his thigh. Your shirt had rucked up a little, allowing him to feel the softness of your belly.

God, he wanted to flip around and bite you all over, make you squeal and moan and sob in euphoria; but, he was trying, so, so hard, to be a good boy for you.

Then, that sinful mouth of yours was added to the mix, nipping and kissing at the skin along his back, teeth occasionally tugging on his flesh. Your mouth grazed the skin right along the divot where quills grew from his skin, cheek brushing his feathers in the process.

Keigo moaned out, loud and shrill, sounding almost unlike himself, and it startled you a little. His wings flexed, nearly smacking you in the face as they beat the air. Yet, you didn't ease up, mouthing along the smooth skin, cheek brushing the young plumes that grew from his shoulder blades as you mouthed dangerously close to the base, to the place that made him who he was: winged hero, Hawks.

As your mouth explored and teased, your arm curled around his front. You tugged his shorts and boxers down his thighs until his leaking cock bobbed free. His whole body jolted and his wings shuddered, almost violently, when you finally wrapped your hand around his length.

You had tugged on his wings before during sex, tangled your fingers in his plumes at the base and played with the soft quills like it was the hair on his head. But, this was different: this was your lips brushing his skin, teeth edging along the place where he wasn't human.

As you began pumping his cock, your hips moved almost involuntarily, in tandem with your hand. Of course, this didn't go unnoticed by Keigo, realizing that you were essentially humping him while your hand worked over his cock. Surely, you knew he could do better; but, he was content to let you guide the pace, to let you touch him however you pleased.

Keigo always leaked a lot of precum, even more so when you got your hand on him. Normally, he kept the focus on touching and tasting you, rarely giving you the chance to lay a hand on him before he claimed the heat between your thighs.

As he fidgeted and moaned from your touch, it steadily became clear why. He was touch starved, hormonal teenage years denied of something as simple as the embrace of another. Even something as innocent as your hand sliding up the back of his shoulder could result in a half-chub if he wasn't careful.

Your hand, squeezing him just right, pumping his length like a damn pro, accompanied by your mouth teasing at his wings, sent electricity shooting through him. If his squirming and breathless moans were anything to go by, he was approaching his end at a rapid pace.

"Fu - uck," Keigo grunted out. "Your hand feels so good."

You wanted to lean up and kiss at the back of his neck, right where his hairline started; but, then, you wouldn't be able to reach his cock, and there was no way you were slowing down now, not with the delicious moans he was spewing.

Keigo gave up any semblance of dignity and started bucking up into your hand, to the point that he was fucking your palm like he had never known pleasure like that before. While it didn't compare to being inside you, he was on the edge, hyper-focused on the sensation of your mouth along the edge of his wings.

It was difficult to not take over, roll over and shove your clothes off and drill into you, right here, right now, on the damn floor in broad daylight. He'd flex his wings out, knowing that you loved that predatory stance, and beat the air to drive in harder, faster.

But, you had asked to be in charge this weekend, and there was no denying that he was enjoying himself, letting you touch him like this, feel him up and bite at him. No doubt, you were leaving marks on his back, marks that no one but you would see.

"Fuck," he gritted out through clenched teeth. "Oh - you're gonna make me-"

You moaned in response, the sound vibrating onto the skin of his back. Keigo had one hand clawing at the floorboards while his other reached around and senselessly grabbed at you, resulting in him clinging to a chunk of your thigh, bringing you in as if you might try and escape.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck-" a chorus of curses escaped him.

His held tilted back and your only regret was that you couldn't see his face. His wings shuddered around you, one smacking against your side as he cried out.

You worked him through it, feeling his cock throb before burning hot cum spurted from the tip. Some of it coated his abdomen, some of it landed on the floorboards, most of it coated your hand in a slippery mess.

Keigo's hand released your thigh and wrapped around your forearm in a death grip. You realized immediately it was to hold your hand in place while his hips moved, fucking into your palm deliriously. You were already worked up, grossly wet between your thighs and covered in goosebumps; but, that lewd gesture did something to you.

It made you ache.

Finally, his orgasm waned and Keigo's shaking ceased. He sagged on the floor, panting heavily. You didn't give him a chance to relax, shimmying out from beneath his wing and pawing at him to roll him onto his back. As if instinctively, his wings shifted around, spreading out on either side of him as he flattened like a pancake.

Your dirty hand smeared his release across his abdomen as you climbed on top, straddling his thighs like it was your god-damn place in the world. Still in the blazing aftermath of his orgasm, Keigo hardly seemed aware of what was going on, vaguely processing the feel of your legs moving around and bumping his as you rid yourself of your bottoms.

Suddenly, his sensitive cock was wrapped in a velvety grip, unbelievably hot and dripping wet. The startled cry that Keigo released was almost haunting, and you knew you would never forget it, nor the way it made you tremble and whimper.

"Holy fuck," he groaned loudly, eyes blinking rapidly as he peered up at you, perched on his lap with a wild look in your eyes.

You had no idea if it was a side effect of his quirk or mutation, or just something about Keigo, but he almost always stayed hard after the first round, and usually even lasting for a third. It wasn't the least bit surprising that he was still stiff and throbbing.

"Color?" you uttered to him, going completely still above him.

Keigo blinked slowly, staring at you with a drunk expression on his face, as if he had no idea what the hell you just said. You were patient, eyes taking in the pleasured look on his face shamelessly while you were impaled on his length.

"Green, babe, fuck-"

He barely got to finish before you started bouncing on his lap. One of your legs was curled over his thigh while you propped the other over his abdomen, knee gently digging into his sternum. You shifted your weight off your arms and onto your legs and rolled, pivoting his cock in and out of your folds.

"Ahnnn-" Keigo moaned, head falling back and thumping against the floor while his eyes squeezed shut.

His hands gripped at your waist, fingers digging in like he was holding on for dear life. That very well might have been the case. The sensation from his orgasm hadn't even worn off and you were already working his cock, setting sensitive nerves ablaze.

"Does it hurt?" you asked, sounding breathless, but sincere.

"No," Keigo replied immediately, fiercely.

He shook his head a few times before looking up at you through long, heavy lashes. His pupils had practically vanished, coating his gaze in amber that stared up at you like he was going to fucking kill you.

"Feels so fu-fucking good. Se-sensitive - fuck - I would th-think you're trying to kill me, baby bird," he forced out between labored pants.

As if trying to level the playing field, Keigo shifted his dominant hand, laying it across your belly. His thumb dipped between your sloppy, wet lips and swiped over your pearl, seeking it. You mewled when he brushed the bundle of nerves, and Keigo wasted no time finding a rhythm to circle it smoothly.

"Ohhh, yes," you moaned, head tilting back. "That's - mmm, just like that. Good boy."

So much for leveling the playing field. His hand managed to stay focused; but, his head rolled back and his eyes fluttered shut, a staggered moan falling from his lips. You stared at Keigo, watching pleasure dance across his face, throat bared and skin glistening with a thin layer of sweat.

"D-didn't prep - you're tight," he gritted out.

At one point, you were embarrassed at the realization that you hardly needed it when it came to Keigo. His presence alone could put your body in overdrive, primed and ready to go at the mere sight of his crimson feathers.

It proved to be your hidden superpower. You enjoyed the feel of his cock parting your folds, the slight ache as his girth forced you to accommodate him. Just the same, your cunt gripping him almost too tightly should have been illegal. It threatened to make him lose his sanity, and become a slave to your body.

"Fuck, slow-" Keigo paused and swallowed loudly, out of breath. "-slow down or gonna - aghn - gonna come too fast."

Your own orgasm was approaching like a train flying off the tracks; however, even if that wasn't the case, you wouldn't have stopped, not when he was literally shaking beneath you. His wings began to shudder, plumes rolling like crimson waves beneath him in tandem with his thighs.

You had loosened up just right by now, wet with your own slick and his seed, walls squishy and compliant, creating an effortless glide. Wet, fleshy sounds echoed between the two of you, almost loud enough to drown out the noises youb were making together.

His thumb continued to swipe furiously at your pearl, even when he began shaking from head to toe. But, then, suddenly, the friction was gone. His heels planted on the floor and he used his legs to lift up, meeting your thrusts with enough force to make you bounce.

His hands gripped the meat of your hips painfully tight and it didn't take you long to realize that you weren't even moving yourself anymore; Keigo was holding you up and fucking into you. Ever diligent, it didn't take long for a small feather to dip into the space between you and take over, curling over your wet pearl before trembling violently.

The sound of chirping birds, a buzzing cicada, and the wind in the trees briefly crossed your mind before your own cries drowned out the noise. You could hear Keigo wheezing and moaning in pleasure beneath you, his feathers rustling softly as his wings vibrated.

"Baby - close - close - fuck - come for me, come for me, come on - please-" Keigo babbled on, eyes fluttering shut and head lulling on the floor.

It likely was the desperate 'please' that had you tumbling, a sudden rush of mind-numbing pleasure making you scream. The sudden tightness and fluttering of your walls had him following close behind. Keigo roared, back arching. He dragged you down roughly as his cock emptied inside you, his seed hot like molten lava.

He held you close, pinned against him as he continued to throb and spurt, ensuring every single drop went as deep as he could possibly make it. You trembled above him, hands pressing down on his chest for a moment or so as your orgasm waned.

When the pleasure died down, you moved your legs to a more comfortable position, and collapsed on top of him, torso to torso, skin to skin. The mess of his seed and your combined sweat clung to your skin; but, you couldn't be bothered to care, especially not when Keigo's hands wandered, sliding beneath your shirt to move up and down your back.

You panted against his cheek, body rising and falling as his chest did beneath you. Keigo tilted his head and you felt lips against your sweaty forehead before he huffed out a sharp exhale that made your eyelids twitch.

"Woah," he breathed.

"Just woah?" you teased, even though you were clearly as out of breath as he was.

"Give me a few minutes and I'll give you a standing ovation," he retorted softly. Your eyes could catch the corner of his lip curved into a grin and tilted your head back to try and catch it with your mouth instead.

But, you only ended up colliding with his prickly chin. Keigo laughed and leaned down to kiss you properly, lips slotting over yours in a well-practiced gesture. His arms wound around your waste, holding you close while you kissed. One of his wings came up around you while he rotated you onto your side, laying you on the opposite wing.

You wiggled around when you felt the soft plumes touch your cheek. "Doesn't this hurt?" you protested, trying to escape him. Keigo's grip was too strong, however, and you failed to break free.

"Aww, babe," he hummed, "they're stronger than they look."

"They look strong," you replied, almost defensively, in a low utter, realizing what you had accidentally implied.

He placed an elbow on the deck and propped up his head in his palm, looking down at you with a sort of fondness that made you squirm. He was still inside you, albeit soft now, holding you close to ensure that he stayed that way.

You dragged your knuckles gently along his cheek, whispering, "was that good?"

"You have to ask?" Keigo replied quietly, his bushy eyebrows lifting slightly.

"Communication," you scolded, gently pushing sticky blonde strands out of his face.

"I just cleaned the patio. Now, I have to do it again," was what came out of his mouth.

It was clear by the crooked smirk he was wearing that his intention was to make you laugh, which he did, unfortunately.

"Oh no," you replied dryly.

Keigo hummed, leaning in to kiss you again.

#takami keigo x reader #takami keigo smut #takami keigo x you #takami keigo fanfiction #hawks x reader #hawks x you #hawks smut

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thechekhov · 4 years

Note

Hi! I saw on a post that you're agender and I'm kinda questioning my gender (again) but what interested me more about that post was that you said you believe that gender is a social construct and I'm not really familiar with that theory. I was wondering if you could explain to me what the whole idea is? (bc I kinda only feel like a have a gender in social situations? In my head, my dreams and how I picture myself in the future, I'm genderless idjskahwksjejensj) Sorry for bothering you if I did.

This is a BIG topic and it opens a LOT of wormholes.

We’re gonna do this in pie slice statements that will hopefully help explain what I mean. Please keep in mind I’m going to simplify many things for the sake of readability.

1) What is a social construct?

Social constructs are ideas that are negotiated by social groups. Something being a social construct does not make it ‘not real’.

For example, money is a social construct. Yes, we have cash - coins, credit cards - but these are physical props that are REPRESENTATIVE of the idea of currency. You have some form of credit to your name - the money is a socially agreed-upon idea of value being represented by bills in your hand, by numbers in your bank account.

[Description: Two humanoid figures are standing side by side. The right-side figure is holding a rock in its hand.

Right side figure: Let’s agree that this shiny rock is worth 2 sheep.

Left side figure: Sounds fake but ok.]

Technically, countries are also social constructs. We, as a society, negotiate what a country is, and this can be changed.

[Description: Two figures are standing on either side of a dotted line drawn on the ground. The left figure is pointing down at it while the right figure watches, its arms crossed.

Left figure: Let’s pretend that everything on this side of the imaginary line is mine.

Right figure: ...ok but my house is over there.

Left figure: ... for 3 shiny rocks you can come visit.]

Does that mean canada isn’t real? No. (I mean, obviously canada ISN’T real, but we all agree to pretend it is.) The thing that makes it real is that we are in agreement, and all follow the social rules of pretend to make it seem like the Canadian border, the idea of Canadian citizenship, etc... is an objective fact. (It’s not. These are in fact, negotiable limits and parameters. We have laws in place to define it in legal terms, but those laws can be changed, or may change in the minds of communities. That’s why it’s a construct.)

By that same token, I hold the view that gender, as we largely perceive it in modern society, is a construct. Why? Because it is not inherent; we, as a society, negotiate its meaning.

2) What is gender?

People will probably fight me on this and that’s fine, but here’s my (simplified) understanding of gender (from someone who personally has none)

Gender is a social category negotiated by cultures based on your assigned or desired role in your community that influences, among many other things, your physical appearance, your role in family units, your expected position in jobs, etc.

How I think it happened:

[Description: Two figures are standing on either side of the panel, both holding children-looking figures. The one on the left is wearing purple. The one on the right is wearing green.

Green figure: Hey, I’ve got an idea. What if we separate the babies into two groups based on physical traits they have no control over?

Purple figure: Wh-- okay...?

Green figure: And then limit the jobs they can do and the community ritual involvement available to them based on that!

Purple figure: ... I feel like this is going to backfire on us someday.

Green figure: Nah, it’ll be fine.

The past panel is a dramatic closeup on the purple figure’s face - which is featureless - betraying a deeply doubtful emotion. It says nothing.]

Important points to remember: what gender looks like, what the limits are, what the expectations are... are not inherent to any human biology. We make up gender roles. This is evident in the fact that across the world, gender roles differ by culture. The positions people of a certain gender are allowed to take up are different. What is perceived to be ‘girly’ or ‘boyish’ is different across cultures.

Simply speaking - currently the (western) model we have, dumbed down, is:

You are assigned male at birth because of physical characteristics

You are raised being told to ‘toughen up’ and ‘boys don’t cry’ and encouraged not to show emotions

You are taught to wear male-coded clothes and discouraged from female-coded fashion choices

You are given more opportunities to participate in sports, encouraged to engage in physical activity, etc

You are not expected to need time off for child-rearing

Here’s where gender as it works in society breaks down into being not a real thing but instead something we thought up:

Nothing about having a penis necessitates wearing pants. Nothing about having XY chromosomes means you need to keep your hair short. Nothing about your genome makes the experience of nail-polish different for any human being.

All of these are arbitrary traits we decided were allowed or not allowed to a specific group of people based on entirely unrelated physiology.

Even if we delve deeper, there is MORE variation among individuals of the same ‘sex’ than there are, on average, of members of the ‘opposite sex’ when compared to each other.

Many people use the excuse ‘women are physically not as strong as men’ to say that this has an evolutionary aspect driving these cultural, historical, socially-constructed gender requirements.

But if there was a physical reasoning behind the culturally-set gender-limited job expectations, then we actually WOULDN’T need a traditional binary gender system to sort ourselves into categories. It would simply be decided as a meritocracy - stronger individuals, regardless of gender, would be given physically-demanding jobs. (Also we know that many jobs thought to be ‘traditionally male’ are just the result of sexist bullshit, so this reasoning doesn’t fly any further than I can throw it which is, coincidentally, not very far. Politics is one such area. Doctors are another. We can go on but I think you get my drift.)

My own example of this is an anecdote when my grandparents came to visit my partner and I in Japan. While we were driving down to Tokyo, my grandmother - who has a PhD in entomology - began to say that driving is a masculine activity and women shouldn’t be driving as it was ‘un-woman-like’. My partner almost immediately fired back that in Japan, studying insects or having any interest in them whatsoever was considered a heavily masculine-coded activity. In Russia, there is no such assignment, and my grandmother was left silently blinking in confusion, unable to come up with any excuse except ‘well, all cultures are different, I suppose...’

Do either of these things inherently have a gendered aspect? Of course not! But we assign gendered ideals to them anyway.

3) If gender is made up and constructed by society, then does that mean trans people aren’t real?

No.

Even if you agree that gender is a social construct, trans people are still real. TERFs don’t get a pass. Why?

Because gender - as a social construct - still affects our everyday lives, dictates our social position in our community. Transitioning is still a thing that has to happen. The fact that you are NOT easily able to decide your own gender and are ostracized for wanting to transition, abused for dressing the way you want to be perceived, and bullied for wanting people to refer to you with different pronouns - all those are the effects of a social construct that has very REAL impact on our lives.

This is also why I dislike defining trans-ness by dysphoria. Because transgender people are not only their suffering - the suffering is coming from the outside!! Many trans people remember not being concerned about their gender identity in their childhood, because they did not yet perceive the world as being hostile to their desire to fulfil a specific role in society. The issues and self-hatred and dysphoria begins when they express wanting to be themselves - a life which they are forbidden from pursuing based on physical characteristics they were born with.

Does this mean we should try to remove gender from society? If we constructed it, we can deconstruct it, right?

Realistically, I highly doubt this is possible. Gender is so ingrained in our daily lives that it would be difficult. Nor, I would say, would it be necessary to achieve world peace.

Having social groups - having gender - isn’t inherently a bad thing. The bad thing is when we limit those social groups to specific basic human rights, like voting, or when we forbid them from transitioning from one to another based on things that are out of their control.

Also, I’m not saying genitals and secondary sexual characteristics aren’t real. Please don’t bother sending me that angry message, I’ll ignore it, I promise.

But the concept of gender IS something we thought up and maintain and negotiate with each other to this very day. It’s not granted to us by a higher power, nor is it a constant, unchanging thing. It’s a part of the human experience and like everything, it has the potential to evolve - as a concept in our communal memory, as well as on an individual level, for people who feel they want to be perceived differently.

Thanks for coming to my TEDtalk!

#hiimholalate #gender #agender #queer stuff #gender is a social construct #social construct #genderqueer #long post

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mqnasluvr · 3 years

Note

heya ! i heard you were new around here, could i request headcanons of enemies to lovers with kaeya and childe ? any pronouns are fine ! they’re so annoying i hate how i love them nevertheless,, thank you belladonna and take your time <3

enemies to lovers | kaeya alberich

pairings; kaeya x gn!reader

mentioned; jean

warnings; enemies to lovers but it’s pretty one sided, spoilers for kaeyas backstory, no beta we die like men, a lil bit of kaeya slander im sorry i had to, gn! reader

word count; 2k

a/n; where did kyquu go? :( i hope they at least see this.. i didnt finish childes part but i wanted to push this out as soon as possible. :(

kaeya

to put it simply, your relationship with kaeya was... tiring.

you had been close to kaeya and his younger brother for years, them being your closest and most trusted friends throughout part of your childhood and teenage years. but that all came to a halt when the former admitted to being a spy from khaenri'ah.

in no way or form did he expect for you two to forgive him— but actually seeing your broken and betrayed faces hurt him more than he thought it would, and the image still haunts him to this day.

you had separated yourself from the two brothers. although diluc didn’t do anything wrong, you didn’t want to pick between them ( even though you really should’ve ). that decision was too hard for you to make.

for years, you stayed out of touch with kaeya as he continued to climb the ranks within the knights of favonius, and you followed, much to your dismay. you worked hard to become a knight, and you weren’t going to quit just because of some bad blood between you and your superior. ( props to you for maturity )

he wanted nothing more than to reconnect with you, and maybe even diluc— but that was wishful thinking. diluc ragnvindr was a stubborn, hardheaded man, and getting past that exterior would be no simple feat.

so, he opted for ( not so ) subtly courting you— giving you the occasional wave whenever he saw you walking through mondstadt, offering to help you train ( although you declined every time ), and other small things. you question why he chose to do this now of all times, after half a decade of not speaking to each other.

you weren’t sure how to feel, but it made you agitated. not seething with rage, but it did annoy you to see his lazy grin whenever he walked into the angels share and saw you sitting in the corner of the room. it annoyed you whenever he did that stupid two finger salute before walking off, and archons, did it annoy you when he patted your shoulder after sparring as if you were the best of buds.

then why did your thoughts never stray from him?

that question, you couldn’t answer.

and so, you resorted to treating him like he didn’t exist. it was rude, but you couldn’t really think of anything else. avoiding him like the plague was the one thing you were good at.

as if things couldn’t get any worse, one of your worst nightmares came to fruition.

“jean, please. why can’t i do this mission with you? why... him?” you were basically at the acting grand masters feet, head in your hands and pleading up at the woman. she felt bad, but there was nothing she could do.

“i’m really sorry y/n. but i’m too busy with other things, and kaeya happens to be available. you know an ordinary knight wouldnt be able to take this mission,” her guilt worsened when you looked up at her with ( fake ) tears in your eyes. she kneeled to your height.

“i don’t know of your history with kaeya, but please, just put it aside for this one mission. it shouldn’t take you very long.”

jean helped you stand to your feet, the frown etched into her face growing deeper when she saw your shoulders slump. “alright, fine..i’ll try-”

“jean! have you seen y/n— ah, there they are,” kaeya waltzed in without so much as a knocking, making you jump in surprise and shoot a glare at him. he flashed you a lazy grin.

“speak of the devil..” you muttered.

“are you ready to go? we don’t have much time.” the mission you were assigned was to gain intel on what the fatui were planning. to get said intel, you had to sneak into a gathering held by the fatui. the dresscode was rather expensive— more expensive than anything you owned— so to help you out, kaeya took the liberty of purchasing an outfit for you.

kaeya dropped it into your arms. “change into this. don’t want to show up to a party wearing uniform, do you?”

“thanks...” your face felt warm from embarrassment, but you did have to admit, that was considerate of him.

he laughed and waved his hand, shaking his head. “let’s get going, yeah?”

—

you finished getting ready with the help of jean. she sent you one last apologetic gaze before walking you out the door, waving at you both.

kaeya didnt even hide the fact that he was checking you out. his eyes raked over your attire, before sticking his arm out for you to hold. “my, my, you look quite impressive, y/n. is everything suited to your tastes?”

you huffed and walked past him. “the corset is too tight, and the shoes are too small.” you were only half lying— the corset was a bit uncomfortable to move in, but he got your shoe size down to a T. how? you didn’t really want to know.

“if that’s the case, i can loosen it for you-”

“no.”

kaeya laughed it off, and you only grew more irritated. “come now, y/n. don’t be so stiff.”

“i am perfectly content with being stiff, thank you. now hurry up, i want to get this over with,” you muttered the last part.

you didn’t want to admit that you were struggling to take your eyes off of his attire. he was clad in a white suit with blue complimentary colors to match your own outfit.

you rolled your eyes. ‘of course he’d get us matching outfits.’

but, you didnt find yourself minding all too much.

—

the party looked like any other party— fatui agents littered all over the residence, along with guests in fancy clothing.

you tugged on your sleeve, feeling uncomfortable and out of place. but on the outside, yourself and kaeya blended in pretty well.

because kaeya was such a well known figure, he had to change up his looks a bit. no eyepatch, ( i know, so uncharacteristic ) and he used contacts to change his eye color to a darker shade.

he also put that disgusting rat tail away.

so he didn’t look completely different, but he looked different enough.

...the change was nice.

you couldnt help but feel watched though. but that was to be expected. even though you felt somewhat secure in this situation, anxiety rests for no one. it rested in the pit of your stomach dormantly, waiting for a moment to bloom.

looking around the ballroom, kaeya found people dancing in the middle. deciding that it was better to at least enjoy the party before leaving, he stood in front of you and held his hand out, bowing.

“may i have this dance?”

“who do you think i am-”

kaeya flashed you a cautious glance, head nodding towards a fatui agent who was keeping their eye on the two of you. holding back a sigh, you placed your hand in his. he grinned.

“thank you,” he said. you grunted quietly and held back a roll of your eyes as he dragged you to the middle of the dance floor.

“attention whore,” you muttered, feeling warmer as he placed his hand on your lower back and pulled you in closer.

“you wound me, y/n.”

“you deserve it. i wish i could slap you.”

he stayed quiet. maybe too far?

you shook your head. no. there was no way you we’re going to let yourself feel sorry for him when he was literally a spy.

but he feels honest enough.

sure, his intentions at first were.. questionable. but he’s changed for the better. kaeya has been in mondstadt for years now, and khaenri'ah fell ages ago. his love for mond shouldn’t be doubted for a second, even if he hides it quite well.

before you could look up and make sure your words didn’t hurt him too badly, he leaned down near your ear.

“we have to go.”

“what-”

“i’ll explain later, but we have to go,” he grabbed your hand and pulled you through the crowd.

you didn’t notice, but several of the fatui agents were watching you. you didnt change your looks as much as he did, opting to use simple touch-ups to make yourself more presentable. but it wasn’t enough.

“hey!” one of that agents shouted, and kaeya turned his head back to see how close they were. like he suspected, they were following gou. they pushed through the people, even going as far as knocking one man over, just to catch up.

you hurried your steps along with kaeya, almost sprinting to keep up with him. his grip on your hand was firm though. you two dashed up the stairs onto the third floor of the residence, where the bedrooms were. offices, libraries, bedrooms— they were all there. kaeya picked a random one and shoved you both inside.

it was a red themed bedroom, the lights dim with papers scattered along the desk on the other side of the room. “it seems we’ve gotten lucky,” kaeya joked, skimming over the papers. they were letters, between the fatui and some unknown source. kaeya stashed them in his jacket.

you didn’t understand how he could joke at a time like this. you still arent in the clear and you could hear rapid footsteps coming upstairs. “kaeya—!”

“you know how you said you wanted to slap me?” he said while tucking the last bit of papers into his suit. he didnt even give you a chance to answer. “you can, after this.”

you were confused, but when he backed you up against the wall and pressed his lips to yours, that confusion turned into anger, then more confusion, then understanding.

sighing when you finally caught on, he pulled your body closer to his and you wrapped your arms sround his shoulders. he tugged and nipped on your bottom lip, and if you didnt know any better your knees would be knocking. he was almost too good at this.

suddenly, an agent— a female one, this time— barged in. “have you— hey! take that shit elsewhere, lovebirds!”

kaeya hid your face in his chest, grinning lazily at the woman. his lips were swollen and his eyes were lidded. the woman blushed.

clearing her thoat, she held up a picture of you. well, moreso the back of your head. “have you seen this individual?”

he stared at the woman, then glaced down at you. “..sorry. i’ve been busy, i haven’t seen anyone of the sort. wish i could help,” he shrugged, and the ladies blush worsened. “o-of course..” she muttered, before closing the door and locking it.

kaeya snorted at the irony. he looked back at you, who was still touching your lips with your fingers.

“was i that good?” he chuckled, and caught your hand when you moved to slap him. his laughter died down and he looks oddly serious.

“y/n, we need to talk..”

“...no we dont,” you turned your back to him. he put his hand on your shoulder.

“yes,” he sighed. “we do. i know you didnt want to do this with me-”

“kaeya..”

“-and really, i understand. but i’ve changed, and i know you’ve noticed. i dont want you to hate me forever-”

“kaeya-”

“and you can’t-”

“kaeya!” you nearly yelled. he finally stopped talking over you. “i don’t want to talk about this right now. can you just drop it?”

“then when?” he narrowed his eyes. he laughed humorlessly when there was no reply.

kaeya’s eyes softened the longer you stayed silent. he gently grabbed your wrist and pulled you in for a hug. “...sorry.”

“could you please shut up,” you mumbled into his chest. he laughed softly.

“i know you’re wary right now. but all i ask for is a second chance,” he pulled away and hend your hands together in his. “...please.”

it was an odd sight, seeing him this vulnerable. then again, there was a good chance he was faking it to get on your good side but.. for some reason you found it hard to believe that. he looked truly sincere.

you groaned.

“you better not make me regret this.”

#i took inspo from a fic i read on tiktok... ill try to find the original creator #kaeya x reader #kaeya x reader genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #kaeya x y/n #kaeya x you

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mandy23bwrites · 3 years

Text

The Price You Pay

Character/Pairing: Damon Baird x Female Reader

Tags/Warnings: Established relationship, female reader, female pronouns, kissing, lingo consistent with the games, appearances from Dom and Cole, Marcus is mentioned, perspective gets passed from Baird to reader, no plot

Disclaimer: Takes place between Gears 2 and 3

Word Count: 1427

Summary: Goodbyes are hard. They’re especially hard when your lover is one of the COG’s golden boys, always being sent out into danger.

(Alternative summary: Baird loves being right (what’s new?))

Read on AO3

“Yo Baird!” Damon Baird glanced up from where he was strapping his ammo pack around his thigh to where Cole was standing in the doorway of his cabin. “You know where your lady love’s at?” Baird couldn’t help rolling his eyes at Cole’s ridiculous nickname for you but he also couldn’t deny that it was fairly accurate... even if he wasn’t ready to say the “L” word yet.

“What do I look like, her nanny?” He shifted his focus back to his armor, grabbing his chest plates.

“Dom’s looking for her,” Cole said, unfazed, “He’s worried we won't be back in time for crop duty.” Baird scoffed at that. “You know how much he cares about those things.”

“They’re not going to die if they’re watered a day late. Did he even check if her squad’s here?”

“He saw the twins in the mess and they said she’s around somewhere. She ain’t in her cabin or the workshop so we figured you might know.”

Baird grunted as he secured his plates and looked around for his gloves. “I don’t know. She’s probably on the deck somewhere.”

“Alright. I’ll go find her so you can confess your undying love before we ship out.” Cole gave a cheeky laugh but was gone by the time Baird turned back to make a smartass retort. Instead, he scowled to himself and pulled on his gloves. You couldn’t have gone far, he thought to himself. Sovereign was a big ship but not that big.

As he attached his gnasher and lancer to his holster pack, the ship speakers crackled to life, announcing their raven was prepped and ready. But he couldn’t go to the landing pad just yet; no, the seed of curiosity had been planted. His deep-seated need to know everything extended to figuring out where you were and whether you were safe. So with one last cursory glance around his cabin, ensuring he had everything, he sealed the door and set out to find you, not noticing Dom and Cole trailing him from a distance.

The deck was crowded: some people were tending to the large crop beds while others were running through training exercises. There were also a couple of lookouts along the railings, scouting for stalks or other ships. Littered all around them were small groups of gears, out socializing and enjoying the sun.

Baird scanned the faces of the off-duty gears in the gardens with no success. He knew it wasn’t your week to work but you were known for picking up shifts. He doubted you were in one of the rec areas below deck, given the time of day - you had some projects to work on; he had been there the other day when some gears had come into the workshop and asked if you could paint their plates and weapons. And considering how quickly and enthusiastically you had jumped on the opportunity, he figured that’s what you’d be doing. But if you weren’t in the workshop…

His eyes landed on two areas of storage crates: one by the gardens, one by the training area. He set off towards the gardens; you were like him, preferring a quieter, secluded place to work. Peering around boxes and crates, he quickly found you amongst them, sealant spray can in hand, kneeling in front of a set of propped up weapons. He smirked: he loved being right.

You must have heard his approach because you looked over your shoulder and smiled at him, setting down the can and rising to your feet. As you did, his face softened into the half smirk, half smile you were used to seeing from him. Coming to a stop next to you, he eyed your handiwork, weapons still recognizable despite your tape and coverings to protect the essential components: a hammerburst with a stylized omen, a gnasher with sleek, colorful lines, and a snub with someone’s initials in a bold font. They were impressive and he once again considered asking you to paint his own weapons. Maybe blue... with some yellow accents.

You shifted so you could playfully bump your hip into his, as was your usual greeting for him, and like clockwork, he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you flush against his side. You leaned into him while your eyes flicked down his body, taking note of the full armor, before meeting his waiting gaze.

“Where to?” You asked.

His nose scrunched. “Sounds like command’s sending us to check on one of the camps they’ve been getting radio silence from. The lambent probably wiped them out and the parasites will have pillaged the place by the time we get there. I don’t see the point in sending a whole squad when a pass over would suffice.” There was certainly no love lost between him and the civilians nor the stranded. But before you could reply, you’re interrupted by an all too familiar voice.

“See, baby? I told you he’d find her!” You both turned around to see Cole and Dom making their way towards you, and Baird scowled at Dom.

“Wait a minute, you told me you couldn’t find her just so you could follow me when I went looking?! Let me guess: you couldn’t be bothered to get off your ass and actually look for her yourself.”

“I looked, dickhead, but when the usual spots came up empty, we figured your pompous ass would know,” Dom snapped back.

You reached out and gave Baird’s wrist a squeeze before he could argue any further. “So whatcha need me for?”

“I was hoping you could water my crops if we’re not back tomorrow. We have no idea what we’re gonna find today so it might be a long call.”

“Of course,” you smiled, “I’ll make sure they’re taken care of.”

“Thanks,” Dom said, returning your smile before pressing a finger to his earpiece. You were close enough to Baird to hear some chatter in his own piece, far too quiet to make out but you imagined it was an impatient Marcus telling them to get their asses to the raven. “We’re on our way,” Dom replied to the call.

“Alright ladies, can’t keep the boss waiting,” Cole declared and you chuckled, suspicions confirmed.

“Good luck Delta. And keep an eye on this one for me,” you tipped your head towards Baird, “Make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.” The man in question snorted.

“Hey, Cole’s the reckless one, not me.”

“Yeah but I’m still around, baby!” Cole grinned and he and Dom turned to head out, leaving you and Baird alone.

Turning back towards each other, you stood there for a moment, staring. You had learned long ago that goodbyes were hard, not knowing which might be the last. Then, you took his face in your hands and drew him in for a kiss. He in turn wound his arms around you, pulling you against him, or at least as close as his armor would allow.

“Alright Damon, you know the speech.”

“‘Don’t get your ass shot and use your vast intellect to save the day’ - that one?” You chuckled and shook your head.

“Close enough,” you murmured, reaching up to hook a finger into the elastic band of his goggles and pulling it back just enough to give him a gentle snap. He rolled his eyes before leaning in for another kiss, which quickly escalated into several more.

You couldn’t help but indulge in the moment, wrapping your arms around his neck. The flick of his tongue made you grip him tighter and you could feel him smirk against your lips.

This time when his earpiece goes off, you could make out the faint “Baird, now” from Marcus and had to try and bite back a laugh.

“Alright, I’m coming, don’t get your panties twisted,” Baird replied with a huff.

“I’ll see you later,” You said, before giving him one last kiss.

His lips curled into a small smirk before he turned and jogged off. You watched him disappear before returning to your project, your stomach beginning to tighten. You had no way of knowing if what you said was entirely true, but you liked to hope it was. The nerves you felt every time he headed out on a new mission was the price you paid for dating a fellow gear. But you took comfort in knowing he was in a good squad - you both were. Delta was a small army in and of itself. If anyone had a chance of making it home safe, it was them.

#damon baird #damon baird x reader #damon baird x female reader

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xseaxwitchxkpop · 3 years

Text

Too Much Overthinking

A/N: This fic is pretty reflective of my own thoughts and pretty self-indulgent. While I kinda wanted to keep this to myself, I felt that there’s other people that could benefit from the comfort of the fic that I tried to go for. Self-love, or at very least self-acceptance, is such a hard journey and sometimes our heads get the better of us. The reader is not necessarily female, so I used no female pronouns, but the reader is framed as femme-presenting, so keep that in mind when reading. So many of fics like these end in sex and it irks me because us fat people are not fetishes, we are people, and deserve to be comforted as such, so I decided to write what I want lol. Also I chose Jongho because he comes off as very emotionally mature and very emotionally intelligent (ignore the fact that he was one of two members that caught my attention and made me stan Ateez lol).

Genre: Comfort

Reader Type: femme!reader, plussize!reader

CW: very negative thoughts, body image issues, a little emotional lol

Requested: NO

Group: ATEEZ -- Jongho

Word Count: 1,491

The boys stayed late at the studio, the night steadily getting darker as you stare out the window and watch the moon climb into the sky and shine. The day feels over already and Jongho once again misses the dinner you made him earlier, complete with missing the cute lunchbox cake you got to celebrate your two year anniversary.

Your heart sinks and your mouth turns into a frown -- you never considered yourself clingy or codependent, but there are times when perhaps you would like him to think about you a little more or that you wanted to stick to his side and never let go.

But him missing this special dinner tonight triggered your negative thoughts and began a less-than-savory night for you; no, you don’t blame him for your thoughts because he didn’t force you to think the things you do, but the current situation certainly doesn’t help.

The soft blankets welcome you with arms of warmth and the mountain of pillows cradle your head as you stare at the ceiling with horrid thoughts running through your heads. You’re too fat, anyway, didn’t need the amount of carbs in the noodles. Your stomach sticks out and sweeps the edge of the counter in a way it shouldn’t, time to lose some! You’re nothing but a good fuck for him, he’s definitely trying to get another woman that’s thinner...they’ve been using a lot of female backup dancers lately…

You whip yourself around in your blankets, trying to squash the thoughts or at least put a temporary stop to them.

You’re not sure how much time has passed, but you hear the door to your apartment opening and closing, accompanied by shuffling that indicates Jongho came by and took off his jacket, shoes, and made his way to the bedroom.

You feel the bed dip down behind you and a solid chest snuggle against your back; his arm threw itself around your body and squished you against him, squishing your stomach in the process and making you feel extremely uncomfortable. His breath lingered on the back of your neck as you heard him whisper that he’s sorry for missing the dinner and that he’d make it up to you tomorrow.

You certainly didn’t want him to know you’re awake, but your mouth moves faster than your brain: “Are you actually?”

His breathing hitches, not realizing that you are still awake. The grip around your midsection loosened and you take the opportunity to lift his arm off of you and scoot away from him. He props himself up on his elbow and peers at the back of your head -- you can’t see the hurt and confusion in his eyes, but you can at least feel the searing gaze aimed at the back of your head.

“What do you mean by that?” he asks, wanting to reach out a hand and rub your arm, but forcing himself to stop. He knows that he fucked up by missing the anniversary celebration, but the synergy of the group was radically off kilter today and it took longer than it should have for all of them to perfect the choreography and he was going to explain tomorrow. But he can’t figure out why this bothered you so much -- you were always understanding and that’s one of the reasons you had his heart.

All you can do is sigh, not wanting to burden him with your negative thoughts, but your tear ducts have other ideas and so thus did your brain.

“What I mean is why stay so late? And without so much as a text or phone call?” you mumble.

“Hmm?” he says, not quite hearing you.

You sit up and turn yourself to face him, barely holding back tears. “Do you not love me any more? Am I not attractive to you any more? Am I just a good fuck for you at this point?”

Jongho’s face fell (not that you can see it in the darkness of the room) and he reaches out to your vague silhouette, wanting to caress your face. “Y/N --”

“No!” you shout at him, hugging yourself and scooting yourself further from him, the hard surface of the wall hitting your back.

“There’s gonna be a day where you wake up and realize that you don’t love me any more, realize that my fat stomach is not cute or good for gripping but repulsive, that my back rolls aren’t sexy but gross, that you’re just lying to yourself and lying to me! You don’t find me sexy, you don’t find my body attractive, and you’ll wake up and realize that and leave me! There’s so many better people out there, yeah, with thinner bodies, with no protruding stomach, with slim arms and a defined jawline, no fat poking out in their bras, with legs that don’t rub together and chaff and can fit beautifully into short skirts…one day, you’re gonna wake up and look at me the way I look at myself.”

Tears leave streaks down your face as you ramble. You tighten the blankets around you in an effort to hide yourself. And Jongho, your boyfriend of two years who has done nothing but make you feel loved, that shows you off in public and is proud to have you for a S/O, feels his heart drop so low he doesn’t know if it is in his body any more. His eyes also sting with tears hearing how you view yourself and he’s at a loss for what to say; he knows that you don’t think highly of yourself, but to hear it in its entirety, with you in tears and hearing, unfiltered, what goes on in your head hurts him. He remembers the intense struggle that Seonghwa had with his own image and how he still slips into that mindset sometimes, but you’re not Seonghwa and can’t be reassured the same way.

Jongho crawled his way to you and cupped your face, forcing you to look him in the eyes as much as possible. At a loss for what else to do, he places his lips gently on yours and just stays there; he feels the wet tracks from your eyes to your chin and the ragged breaths through your nose from your crying.

He eventually pulls away but stays close to your face, rubbing his thumb across your cheekbone. “Why are you thinking these things, hm? Was it because I stayed late? I really am sorry about that,” he whispers into the space between you two.

“I...I don’t know...I just...you’re using more female backup dancers...and you missed my...missed my dinner.”

“What do female backup dancers have to do with anything? Do you think any of them can take me from you?”

You look up at him as he hits the nail on the head, pathetically sniffling in an attempt to not only regulate breathing but also not to open the floodgates again.

“Oh, sweetheart, nothing like that will happen,” he says, pulling you into a tight hug, fighting you, fighting him because the last thing that he wants is for you to think he’s gonna leave you high and dry.

You sink into him, trying even harder to not cry and trying not to think about how you look when crying, trying to ignore the thoughts that tell you that you being an ugly crier is part of the reason that you are horrendously unattractive.

“But what if it does? They’re fit, they’re healthy, they’re attractive…” you start, muttering into his shoulder.

“Who said that?” he counters with lightning speed, not letting you finish the statement. “You? You can’t trust your opinion of yourself in the mirror, how are you to judge what I do and don’t find attractive? You say they’re attractive to me because you don’t find yourself attractive enough to be with me, which your heart will tell you is not true.”

You can’t hold anything in any more and let yourself cry, and not just a small one. You soak his shirt with tears, you claw your way onto his lap and hold him in a death-grip, and you cried, a cathartic one that poured at your emotions into this one cry.

Jongho can’t do anything but hold you with a heavy heart; hearing you cry your heart out hurt him to a degree and he had to hold back his own tears threatening to spill.

He leans back against the mountain of pillows, pulling you with him, and rubbing your back and squeezing your shoulder. You cry yourself to sleep, eventually becoming dead weight on your boyfriend’s chest, which he wholeheartedly embraced. He slowly falls asleep after you, promising himself that, despite the good communication you two had, he’d try to be more mindful of how much you feel loved and ensure that he doesn’t leave doubt in the future for his love for you.

#ateez #jongho #fem!reader #plussize!reader #my writing #comfort hours #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #jongho x reader

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pixiegrl · 3 years

Text

I’m Back in My Body

Luke has a conversation with KayKay that pushes him to re-consider his own gender identity.

Hello all. This was born out of @daydadahlias and I chatting about KayKay in their latest fic and Jess reminded me of part of this series, where I had KayKay come out as non-binary and in turn, it helped Luke come out as non-binary. KayKay uses she/they pronouns and Luke uses he/they pronouns. So thank Jess for pushing me to finish this part of the series. I’ve been thinking about Luke’s gender in this series for a while and Jess gave me the push i needed to explore it.

Big thanks to @tigerteeff for many things: the original push to write this series, to keep going with this series, for the encouragement of having Luke and KayKay be non-binary. Heath has inspired many parts of this series and I love them for it. Also thanks to @lifewasradical, for the help on this doc and the constant love and support I really wouldn't be half the writer I am without you I love you thanks for putting up with me. And to Mandie, Molly, Brooke and Meg for reminding me to do what I love and listening to me while I ranted about writing. Love you guys.

on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29793279

As far as days go, it’s a pretty average Tuesday. Ashton’s out doing some music things with his friend Matt and Michael and Calum are doing their own weird MikeyandCal things that had sounded vaguely close to sexual. Luke had pouted about being left until Ashton had kissed him and told him it was healthy to spend time apart. Luke doubts it, but it also gives him some free time to go hang out with (harass) Sierra and KayKay at the store.

Luke shows up close to noon, blowing through the door in a floral sundress and heeled gold boots. It had been one of those mornings, when Luke had looked at all of his pants and felt uncomfortable at the thought of anything masculine. The weather’s nice enough for sundresses now, a relief to Luke’s scratchy brain when he’d put it on. It’s a dress Sierra recommended once, all soft pinks and bright flowers and he wants Sierra to see it.

Sierra’s standing at the counter, clicking around on her laptop. She grins when she spots Luke, waving him over.

“Luke! Just the person I was hoping to see. I’m putting the final touches on those photos you wanted for Ashton’s gift. Come look!” She waves him over. Luke grins, crossing the store to lean over the counter and look at her computer.

Luke looks good in them, propped up and posed on the couch they’d used, in his bed (which had taken some convincing to get Ashton out of the house long enough without him suspecting what was going on). Luke looks soft and delicate, pink lips and soft curls and wrapped in lace and bows.

“They look so good, Si. How’d you manage to make me look so good?”

“Thank KayKay. Without them taking the photos, they wouldn’t look so good. I can only do so much in editing. You’re easy to photograph and KayKay took such good photos of you.”

“I’m not a particularly good model. KayKay’s just really good.”

“Give yourself some credit Luke,” Sierra says, smacking Luke on the arm. He blushes.

“Where is KayKay anyway?”

“In the back. Why don’t you go see them?” Sierra says, going back to the laptop. Luke nods, rounding the counter and going behind the curtain. KayKay’s sitting at the table in the back on a computer. KayKay glances up at Luke and that’s when he notices the name badge. It has KayKay’s name on it, but under that is listed they/them. Luke stops.

“Hey Luke,” they say smiling, holding their hand out to Luke. Luke sits down next to them, looking down at the name badge.

“Hey KayKay. Sierra was just showing me the photos. Are the pronouns new?” Luke blurts out, questions running through his mind.

“No. Some days are just more they days and today is one of them, so I put my pronouns on my nametag. No confusion that way.”

“What do you mean they days?”

“I’m non-binary Luke. Sometimes I have days where I feel comfortable being a woman and some days I don’t feel gender connected at all.”

“I...I didn’t know about that,” Luke says, quietly. The words stick with him, something about the feeling about them sitting heavy in his chest. He can’t place what it is about what KayKay’s said that’s sticking with him, but he’s just on the edge of it as he stares at their face.

“Did you really not know I was non-binary?”

“I guess I just never paid attention to some of the cues or the pronouns you two used or whatever. I feel so stupid now.”

“If you had misgendered me, I would have said something.”

“What does it mean?”

“What does what mean?”

“Being non-binary. What does it mean for you?”

KayKay shrugs, pushing a strand of hair behind their ear. Luke tracks the movement, trying to focus on it, to stop the panic in his own chest that he can’t place.

“I just don’t always feel right in my own body. Sometimes I wake up and I feel okay. I feel like this is who I am. That I’m a woman and it’s okay. That that’s how I want to present myself and be seen by the world as on those days. Some days I wake up and I know it’s not one of those days. I know it’s not going to be a day where I feel right with myself. I feel a disconnect from the person I am. Sometimes feeling right with myself means I don’t feel like a woman. I just feel like me, no gender attached. It changes how I present myself, how I want the world to see me. Sometimes I don’t want to be seen at all. I just want to exist without anyone labeling me or who I am. Some days I don’t mind the labels. Some days I’m indifferent. Some days it feels like I can’t handle it if someone gives me a gendered label and I have to correct them. Everyone’s different but that’s how I feel,” they say, smiling over at Luke, soft and slow. Luke swallows, feels his chest tighten a little bit.

“Oh,” Luke whispers, wrinkling up his nose. A lot of what they’re saying feels a little too close to home for Luke. The feeling of unrest in their body, of not feeling connected to the image they’re putting on. How the idea of how other people’s perception was wrong to how they were feeling. It all feels too close to how Luke feels. The sense of unease on some days when interviewers would call them all boys. The fact that the lingerie and dresses blur the lines of who Luke is. That no matter how nice it is, seeing the look of want and desire on Ashton’s face when he sees what Luke’s wearing, it was never about that. It was always about Luke’s ability to breathe, the warmth in his chest, the feeling of security he got whenever he put it all on. It was always about how he felt like it was coming home, getting to see himself in the mirrors, see the delicate lines and soft angles, crying the illusion of softness and femininity to his body, the tightness easing when he sees himself in the mirrors. Luke thinks he might be crying, feels the pressure at the back of his eyes.

“Luke, have you really never thought about this before?” KayKay asks, voice soft. Luke turns to face them, sees the look of concern on their face. Luke just shakes his head, pressing his face into his crossed arms. He’s trying so hard not to cry, doesn’t want KayKay to see him like this, even if they’re his friend. He hates when anyone who isn’t Ashton sees him at his lowest.

“I guess I didn’t want to. I had one teenage panic about my sexuality. I already had the crisis about wearing lingerie and the dresses and everything else. I have had so many fucking crisises. I’m supposed to be happy now, why can’t I just be happy with who I am,” Luke mumbles. He sniffs, trying to stop the tears from flowing. KayKay sighs, scooting closer till they’re pressed against Luke’s side. They wrap their arms around him in a pseudo hug, resting their head on top of his.

“Luke, honey, describe to me again how you feel when you wear everything?”

“Happy. I feel so happy. I put the first pair of panties on and it just felt right. I haven’t fit right in my own body since I had my growth spurt when I got all broad and tall. I used to hate looking at myself because I felt too big and masculine and I just miss feeling delicate and it did that. It made me feel delicate and lovely and I felt like I could breath. And I have some days where just wearing them underneath my shirts and trousers are enough, where I feel masculine and that’s okay. But I have some days, where I have to wear it all. I have to put on the dress and the heels and I go out in all of it, where I want to deck myself out, I want to be as feminine as possible. I had someone call me Miss in the store once,” Luke says. KayKay hums.

“How did you feel?”

“About?”

“Her perception of you.”

Luke pauses, considering it. He hasn’t thought about the incident in months. It was one of the few days where he’s gotten dressed up and gone out in public without any of the guys and without going to Sierra and KayKay’s store. He’d woken up feeling itchy in his own skin, kept pulling on layers, the bra and panties not doing anything on their own. He’d had to put on a whole thing, long flowing summer dress and wedges, makeup to match, until he’d felt comfortable enough to look in the mirror. He’d gone to Ulta and ended up poking around the makeup until a sales associate had come over, called him Miss, asked if he needed anything. She’d asked for his name and without thinking he’d said Liz. He doesn’t know what made him say it, knows that even if he had said Luke no one would have cared, but something in the moment made him want to be feminine. He’s never told anyone this before, took the memory home with him. He never even told Ashton about it, the way the feeling of it had settled in his chest, having someone look at him and see feminine.

“It felt okay. Having someone see me and see feminine it just felt so good. I have to be Stage Luke all the time, that it just felt nice to have someone see me and not wonder. But I don’t feel female enough either, ” Luke says.

“Maybe that’s what it means for you. For me, being non-binary means I have some days where I feel like a woman, like that’s who I am and some days where I just feel like I’m not, where I don’t feel connected to my gender at all. For you, maybe it means some days you feel more masculine and comfortable being a man and sometimes you don’t feel that way at all. Maybe some days you feel more feminine.”

“Is that allowed?”

“Luke sweetie, it’s you. It’s all about how you perceive yourself, what you think of yourself as. There’s no right way or wrong way to be non-binary. That’s the beauty of it. It’s all up to you,” Kaykay says. Luke rolls the words around in his head, thinking about them. Thinks about what it means to have a word to describe how he’s feeling, the sense of who he is. Luke’s never felt all the way “female” exactly, but he does have days where that feels closer to who he is than “male” does.

“Is it?”

“It is. It’s all a personal experience. That’s the wonderful thing about personal gender experiences. They’re unique to each person,” KayKay says, smiling at Luke, squeezing his arm. Luke smiles at them, pressing his face into their shoulder.

“I think today is one of those days for me. I woke up and I thought about what I wanted to wear today and the idea of anything masculine made me feel uncomfortable. I didn’t feel comfortable until I went through my whole routine.”

“So maybe today is a they day,” KayKay says softly. Luke rolls the words around in his head.

“I think maybe it is. I think today I want to try it,” Luke says softly. KayKay nods. It’s different to think about, trying to wrap their head around it, but it feels good. Thinking about themselves like that, removing the idea of being one or the other and just existing.

“I’m proud of you Lu. I’m here if you need anything,” KayKay says, kissing them on the temple. Luke smiles, turning to face KayKay.

“Thanks.”

“Anytime. Now, I heard there were photos to show you. Come on, let’s gush about how pretty you are,” KayKay says, pulling Luke to their feet. Luke grins. It feels right, something about it just feels right.

***

When Luke gets home, Ashton’s car is already in the driveway. Luke sits in the car for a bit, tapping their fingers against the steering wheel. They’ve been thinking about the conversation since talking to KayKay, how to talk to Ashton about it. Luke doesn’t know if it’s too soon or whatever to talk to Ashton about how they’re feeling, but Luke wants Ashton to know. They want Ashton to know they’re exploring themselves and what it means to Luke. Luke’s nervous about how Ashton’s going to respond to it, but it’s Ashton. Luke’s pretty sure there’s nothing they could really do to upset Ashton at this point, easy-going, loving Ashton.

Luke turns off the car engine, leaving the car and heading up the steps to their front door.

“Hey Ash,” Luke calls, coming through the front door. They hear the sounds of Petunia’s nails on the floor, rushing to the door to demand attention from Luke. Luke gladly gives it to her, dropping to their knees and cooing at her.

“In the kitchen darling,” Ashton calls. Luke scoops up Petunia, making their way through the house, finding Ashton at the kitchen table. He’s clicking around on his laptop, frowning.

“What’s up Ash?”

“Looking for tickets to Australia. Fucking complicated to find anything on short notice.”

“Not expensive?”

“We’re rockstars baby,” Ashton teases, looking up at Luke. He’s wearing his glasses, smiling enough that his dimples are showing. Luke giggles, setting Petunia down so that they can climb into Ash’s lap, press a kiss to his lips. Ashton returns the kiss happily, squeezing Luke’s hips, letting Luke sling their arms around Ashton’s shoulders.

“You look nice,” Ashton says.

“Thanks. Felt like a good day for it. Went to see Sierra and KayKay.”

“How was it?”

“I wanted to talk to you about something,” Luke says, figuring it’s better to get it over with. Ashton furrows his brow, letting Luke settle into his lap before turning away from his computer to face him.

“What’s wrong sweetheart?”

“KayKay was talking to me about how they’re non-binary and I think I might be too. They were describing it and I just...I felt so connected to that. I don’t always feel right in my body. Sometimes I feel like Luke, like I’m okay in my own body, and sometimes I just don’t. I don’t feel quite female, but sometimes I just feel more feminine and that’s how I want the world to see me. I’m not sure what it all means, but I want to explore it.”

“Oh Luke sweetie, of course you can. Whatever you need darling, I’m right here for you. Is today one of those days?”

“Yeah. I think it is. It just feels like it,” Luke says. Ashton nods, face open and understanding. Luke doesn’t have the words to keep describing how they’re feeling over and over again today, but Ashton’s easy acceptance and love feels good. It reminds Luke that they don’t have to figure everything out today, that they have time. They have time and they have the words to describe how they’re feeling and they have Ashton. Everything else will fall into place after that.

***

Luke waits a couple weeks before sitting down with Michael and Calum to talk about it. Luke spends the time between their revelation and sitting down to talk to the guys. It gives Luke some time to explore what their gender means for them, wrap their head around the words. KayKay is sweet about it, giving Luke answers and resources where they fail to have the answer. Between KayKay’s support and Ashton’s easy acceptance, it’s helped Luke figure out what they want to do. Luke’s still not sure how to come out to their family or even to their fans, but Luke knows that the only way to do that is to talk to Michael and Calum. Luke hasn’t come out to anyone except for Ashton yet. It feels right though, taking the first leap and telling the guys. Luke’s hoping that telling their closest friends will ease some of the tension and uncertainty of having to tell everyone else.

Ashton and Luke set up lunch with Michael and Calum, invited them over. It felt better, doing it in their own home, in a place of comfort. Luke’s nervous though, has been since they got up that morning, got dressed. Luke’s put on another sundress for the day, opting to blur their gender lines again, on a day where it feels the most appropriate.

Michael and Calum showed up about an hour again, bringing some fruit salad with them to lunch. Luke’s been trying to work up the courage throughout all of lunch, find a way to work it naturally into the conversation. There hasn’t been a time yet and the longer Luke waits, the more nervous they get. Ashton’s been wonderful, pressed close to Luke and squeezing their thigh to comfort them. It’s just about the end of lunch when Luke finally finds a natural place in the conversation to finally bring it up.

“I have something to tell you guys,” Luke says when the conversation dies down.

“You’re leaving Ashton for Troye Sivan,” Michael says, tone teasing.

“I’m not...what is that the first person you think of?” Luke asks. Michael shrugs.

“You’ve decided to leave the band to become a mime,” Calum chimes in, grinning.

“Okay, I’m never letting either of you guess ever again,” Luke says, swatting at Ashton as he continues to laugh with Michael and Calum.

“Alright, alright what did you want to tell us?” Michael asks, when he finally stops. Luke frowns, lump in their throat. Ashton reaches over, squeezing their hand.

“I’m non-binary. Everyone’s gender expression for identifying is different, but for me it means that someday I feel masculine and comfortable being Luke and being male. Somedays, I feel more feminine. I don’t want to be a woman necessarily, but I want to be seen as more feminine. I want to be less gendered,” Luke says, swallowing, chest tight. Michael reaches across the table, holding his hand out palm up, signaling for Luke to take his hand. Luke reaches out, letting Michael grab their hand and squeeze.

“What can we do for you?” Calum asks.

“Some days I want to use he/him pronouns and some days I want to use they/them pronouns. I’ll start telling you guys in the morning how I feel, especially if we’re doing interviews or public appearances, so I don’t get misgendered or have anyone refer to me with gendered words. I don’t want to change my name, I like Luke. I just want to adjust how the world perceives me. And I don’t know how to come out online or what to say to our management,” Luke says.

“Fuck management. You gotta do what’s important for you. Say whatever you want online, we’ll back you up,” Michael says, all determination and indignation.

“But what about our fans? Or the online response? I still have to worry about that,” Luke points out.

“Fuck them if they don’t want to respect you. I don’t need those fans,” Calum says. Luke swallows trying to blink back their tears. Michael and Calum leave their seats, wrapping Luke up in a hug and pressing soft kisses to their head. Luke knows it’s not that simple, can’t just say fuck it to what management will think or how their fanbase will respond. Luke knows it can’t be simple, coming out, expressing their gender publicly. Maybe the first step is for Luke to change their pronouns on their twitter and instagram bios, letting the world find out as they check their page. Getting to see the fan reaction that way would be incredible, pouring out support for them and letting them know how valid they are without having to make a big declaration about it. Luke knows it’s going to be interviews and explanations, trying to talk to people about who they are, but it’s nice. The easy love and acceptance from their friends, knowing that no matter what, they have Ashton and Michael and Calum on their side. The world’s a little brighter for Luke, getting to be themselves, getting to be happy, getting to do it all with their friends. Right here, wrapped up in the guys and their hug, the world feels brighter and full of love and possibilities.

#5 seconds of summer #lashton #luke hemmings #ashton irwin #kaykay blaisdell #non-binary character #nb kaykay #non binary luke #its just gender exploration and soft love #both platonic and romantic #luke deserves to be loved wholly and completely and have people accept them #my writing

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mx-shirogane · 4 years

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Persona 4 and LGBTQ+

Ah yikes, an opinion piece. These are just my thoughts and I’m more than open to hearing other people’s opinions and thoughts on the matter.

When I first found the Persona Fandom, I was introduced by Game Theory. Not the “Teddie is Yu’s Shadow” video, rather their video on LBGTQ+ represention in video games. MatPat threw around the word “Persona” and as someone who was just learning about the LGBTQ+ community, I became interested in what I thought to be a game with character development around sexuality and gender identity. While I can understand Kanji’s shadow being used as an example for this in their video due to Persona 4 being recent and how it appears at a first glance, I think a better example would have been Jun and Tatsuya from Persona 2: Innocent Sin. In this post I’ll be covering Yosuke, Kanji and Naoto.

Sexuality, Kanji and Yosuke: From the beginning, there were created issues with the idea of Persona 4 being an LGBTQ+ game, this was with Yosuke being removed as a romance option. Had they kept him as a romance option, I personally feel they could have explained his behaviors as internal homophobia and suppression of his own feelings for the protagonist. However, with this removed, Yosuke’s cracks at Kanji’s sexuality lack the reasoning of insecurity and projection and instead comes across as ignorance and fear. The anime made no attempt at fixing this, having more negative connotation around Kanji as the party is hesitant to save him. Another scene that comes to mind is the camping trip, where Yosuke asks if they’ll be safe alone with him. In the anime, the protagonist also joins in on this interrogation. Kanji’s clearly uncomfortable as he eventually runs off to sleep in the girl’s tent at an attempt to defend himself. In the game, Yosuke does express concern for Kanji as he fears he might be expelled. This at least shows that Kanji is a friend regardless of the feelings Yosuke harbors towards his sexuality. This exchange portrays Yosuke as quick to flip sides from being worried about Kanji to worried for Kanji and still maintains their friendship. This does have a bit of karma as Chie insinuates the same thing when the girls sneak into their tent. Where as in the anime, Yosuke and the Protagonist just watch Kanji leave and there are no later comments made on the matter. Overall, Kanji’s homosexuality becomes more of a punchline than a sexual orientation and was more so fueled by hyper-masculinity and Naoto. A later scene in the game that shows his perception change of Naoto from male to female is during the group date cafe when describing his ideal girl and Yosuke calls him out sarcastically for being obvious. During this same event, if you choose to be on the girl’s side, you have a few options. If you pick Yosuke, he’ll freak out but then begin flattering himself, the protagonist noting that he seems “proud for some reason.” Meanwhile if the protagonist picks Kanji, Yosuke will note that they’re a perfect match to which Kanji refuses and even threatens Yosuke if he keeps bringing the matter up. Instead of there being any snarky remarks following from Yosuke, he compliments Kanji saying it’s due to his manliness which Kanji does take well. This could come across as Yosuke trying to protect himself, however his remark is more positive than that in the tent and does signify a growth towards trying to understand. If you sit on the guy’s side and ask if Yosuke likes any of the guys, he’ll respond saying the protagonist before stuttering and calling him out for making him play along. With factors like Naoto’s reveal taken into account, Kanji’s shadow becomes less focused on his sexuality and more so on bullying and hyper-masculinity. As for Yosuke, he comes across as ignorant and fearful. Had he remained a romance option, this could have been played off as an internal conflict Yosuke was dealing with and projecting onto Kanji.

Gender Identity and Naoto: I’ll be using They/Them pronouns to refer to Naoto. Naoto Shirogane was originally thought to be a male which greatly fueled Kanji’s Shadow. However, Naoto’s arc referred more to sexism in the work place and their struggles with being a child detective and idolization. Side note: Props to Kanji in the shadow scene for realizing Naoto had to confront their shadow in order to stop hurting. After the fight, Yukiko asks Naoto if they dislike being a girl and if that’s the reason they dress like a man. Naoto responds saying their sex doesn’t fit their ideal image of a detective and notes that the police department is a male-oriented society. They express that if anyone knew Naoto was biologically female, they wouldn’t be needed anymore. Kanji and Yukiko both make remarks on this, Kanji saying that they didn’t know how others would react, and Yukiko remarking that Naoto didn’t want to become an adult or a boy. This is followed by Naoto saying “What I should yearn for... No, what I must strive for isn’t to become a man. It’s to accept myself for who I really am...” From this point on, Naoto is referred to with female pronouns terminology, even by their close friends. While Naoto continues wearing the male uniform, they say it’s what they’ve become comfortable in and are show to be generally shy about their body, key examples being in the bath house and the beauty contest. My opinion on how to portray them as LGBTQ+: These are small notes on how I would portray and shape them based on contradictions and hints in the game. Yosuke: Have Yosuke identify as bicurious. It’s cannon that he likes girls and there are scattered remnants of him liking the protagonist littered throughout Persona 4 and the other spin offs. His internal conflict over liking guys as well as girls could prove to be an interesting story premise when done properly. As well, him projecting his insecurities onto Kanji would shift his character from being ignorant and fearful to being insecure about his own feelings and not knowing how to deal with them. If you want to have someone in Yosuke’s life that shaped his views on homosexuality, create someone like a friend, parent or even bully who caused him to see homosexuality in a negative light. Try to avoid having him instantly fall in love with the protagonist and present more of a struggle as to figure out what’s right and what’s wrong. Even if you end up having him identify as straight in the end, allow for some wiggle room for experimentation due to the small hints throughout the games. Kanji: Have Kanji identify as pansexual and focus his shadow around him questioning his sexuality and not hyper-masculinity. Keep in the fact Kanji was called queer by female students because he liked cute things and knitting. This would serve as a starting point for him questioning his sexual orientation. However, when it comes to his shadow, have the repressed self trying to figure out who he likes whether it’s guys, girls or if sex just doesn’t matter instead of flat out calling him gay. That way, when it comes to the reveal of Naoto, his entire shadow arc doesn’t get cancelled out. Naoto: Have Naoto identify under the transmasculine umbrella. As much as I love Trans!Naoto in fanworks, Naoto does say that they should strive to be true to themselves and that what they want wasn’t to become a boy. Transmasculine, acording to the nonbinary wiki, is an umbrella term that refers to those who were assigned female at birth, and whose gender is masculine and/or who express themselves in a masculine way. Transmasculine people feel a connection with masculinity, but do not always identify as male. This way, you can still have Naoto identify as male for the first majority of the game and have the shadow reveal Naoto felt pressured by the police force to negate any feelings they had and portray themselves as strictly male. They said themselves that both their parents were detectives, which contradicts Naoto saying that they’d get tossed aside if the department knew they were biologically female. Focus less on their age and have the repressed feelings focus on how they felt like an outcast for not fitting in the gender norm which contributed to an anxiety of shutting people out and obsessing over masculine stereotypes as an attempt to fit in. Naoto identifying as masculine would allow for more wiggle room in terms of pronouns and the variety of honorifics used (Chie and Yukiko use Kun, Rise, Yosuke, Kanji and the Protagonist don’t use any, and Teddie uses Chan) whilst further supporting Naoto’s preference for masculine clothes and body insecurities, mainly their chest.

#Kanji Tatsumi #naoto shirogane #yosuke hanamura #p4 yosuke #p4 naoto #p4 kanji #Persona 4 #persona 4 golden #p4 #p4g #lgbt #lgbtq #gender identity #sexuality #headcannons #persona 4 headcannons #opinion #opinion piece

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starship-imzadi · 3 years

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S5 E17 The Outcast

Androgyny is defined as having both male and female characteristics so that a specific gender cannot be determined.

Jonathan Frakes has reportedly gone on record to express his belief that Soren should have been cast with a male actor as it would have sent a stronger message. And I absolutely agree.

As it is, Soren identifies as a woman and is played by a woman which is just reestablishing a heteronormative status quo. In fact, all of the credited cast who portray the J'naii are women.

I have a problem with this. Often times the dichotomy of western heterosexual gendering is seen as "the haves and the have nots". E.g. men have body hair, women do not (which is absolutely untrue). Women are emotional, men are not (also absolutely untrue). Women as "the weaker sex" are often seen as "without" and androgyny is sometimes construed as being more "without" because it's supposed to be lacking the characteristics that give definition or.... features that are identifiable as a certain gender. Casting all women to be androgynous is, in a way, sexist for this reason. Though the non speaking and background J'naii are far enough away they seem less defined and more androgynous (some might be cast with men but it's not possible to tell...which is the way it should be).

Okay...so, Riker gets a bad rap for his struggle with pronouns and misgendering BUT what he's doing is actually incredibly important and valuable. Riker is canonically an American, heterosexual, cis gendered, Caucasian, male. He is the character that the most privileged, and most represented demographic will see themselves in and relate to. He is put in a position where he doesn't understand the experience of the person opposite him, he's trying his best and he makes mistakes, but he's also demonstrating that he's open to learning.

I've also seen some small uproar, especially from younger viewers (I'm looking at anyone born after the year 2000) over the writers not using they/them pronouns "I do not think there is really a translation". It is true that "they" as a pronoun to refer to a non specific person in common speech has been in use since the time of Shakespeare. Up until women's suffrage in legal context the pronoun used was "he" without specifically meaning a man. I.e. those pronouns were place holders for an unknown person regardless of gender or sex. Non masculine or feminine pronouns used to refer to a known individual is a slightly different story. There have been many different pronouns developed and used to greater or lesser extent through the entire 20th century (e.g. Hir or Xe) However, none of them really caught on for regular use across the entire language. "They" has been adopted most successfully because it is already in the language but its prominent use and acceptance wasn't until between approximately 2013 and 2015. This episode aired in 1992.

I really like that early on Soren and Riker are given an established shared interest. Too often on this show two people are put together....and it's not clear why they like each other. In such a short span of time it's tough to establish a believable new relationship, but this is a good first step.

They've known each other two days? It is reminiscent of "The Masterpiece Society" just a few episodes ago where Troi started to fall in love after five days. (Maybe they're both just very loving people.)

Also, in the midst of the misgendering, I'm pleased that the writers (or whoever) chose for Riker to use "he" because it plays against this species that's supposed to be androgynous but... Have a tendency to look feminine.

Riker's dad had a recipe for split pea soup...I wonder when he ever cooked it though. Riker mentions that it's good for cold Alaskan nights and it's the second episode in recent memory of his mentioning that he's from Alaska (the other was "Conundrum") I can't actually remember it being mentioned prior to that episode.... though there's a good chance it was established in the "Icarus Factor" and i know it's mentioned again in "Lower Decks"

A lot of the focus on this episode from fans seems to be on Soren being transgender but the J"aii are also homosexual. Riker and Soren have two different paradigms that are represented as neither worse nor better nor even given a moral label, they're just different. (Although, the J'naii's insistence that Soren cannot be male or female in gender or sex, is clearly meant to be the reciprocal of any insistence by humans that we can only be male or female in gender and sex.)

"I like one who's intelligent, sure of herself, who I can talk with and get something back. But the most important thing of all, she has to laugh at my jokes."

This conversation has a great sub text: different men like different things in women (and vis versa) so for someone to even identify as "heterosexual" doesn't mean every member of a different sex is attractive to them. And it begs the question: why are so many people with different qualities all under the same gender "umbrella"?

I've seen screen caps of Soren asking about human male genitals but they only show Riker's surprise. Really he deserves more credit because he handles the question really well. The way he handles everything very kindly and graciously, and the fact that Soren continues to ask questions, is a real testament to the safe place that he makes for discussion and curiosity.

There's some... dark humour in how Star Trek talks about misogyny and sexism. It's one of the notable hypocrisies and failings in star trek: to talk about a better future, while still operating on damaging ideals, and without any real idea of the journey it would actually take for society to reach "better". Both Gate and Marina had struggles with how they and their characters were treated compared to the men.

Oh boy. Worf's sexism fluctuates a lot, but when they need someone to be a misogynist, Worf is the go to and it's always painful. And Data asks the innocent, child-like questions. With a scene like this there are unfortunate reflection on some of the characters BUT the main purpose of the scene is, a slightly heavy handed, means of proposing different view points for representation and comparison. It's not really about the characters at all.

I'll say just from experience with that long hours spent working together will create some sort of bond for pretty much any two people. Love or other wise.

This scene is clearly about Soren coming out to Riker. And he takes it as kindly as he has everything else so far.

Geordi has a beard! (LeVar apparently grew it for his wedding)

"good hunting commander"

"thank you sir. See you for dinner." Do Riker and Picard have dinner together? (I love a good found family shared meal).

I really like this scene between Will and Deanna.

"well this one looks like you" with the teddy bear absolutely gets me every time. And Deanna's side look! I love their friendship and comfort together.

"You're my friend and I thought... I don't know, i thought I should tell you."

"I'm glad you did"

"Nothing will change between us, will it?"

"Of course it will. All relationships are constantly changing. But we'll still be friends, maybe better friends. You're a part of my life, and I'm a part of yours. That much will always be true."

This really hits home. Regardless of the label for their relationship, regardless of the details of the boundaries of their relationship, Troi is affirming for Riker that they are important enough to each other, that he is important enough to her, that she will stay in his life and keep him in hers. In a way this touches on what was established way back "Haven". The characterizations were still being sorted out to a large extent, but when Troi was due to be married Riker thought he was losing her and Troi ask him "i am no longer imzadi to you?" But even as much as they love each other, Riker isn't taking for granted that Troi will stay in his life once he becomes involved with someone. Troi is assuring him, promising to him, that she will stay. And the fact that Riker went to her, to tell her about him and Soren, was his way of demonstrating to Troi that she is still important to him, and that he wants to keep her in his life too.

Props to Riker for protecting Soren. Not only did he keep her secret he tried to help her preserve it.

This is a really good and impassioned speech that, even though its clearly about legislation against homosexuality, doesn't feel over the top like a lot of star trek speeches can. It's probably one of the better speeches not given by Picard.

This is the second episode in a row Riker has gone to Picard for guidance...kind of.

It's kind of sweet that Worf offers as a friend to help Riker jeopardize his career, for the sake of someone important to him, even though he doesn't like or understand the J'naii.

In the end, the Enterprise must maintain its status quo, so much like "The Host", there had to be a reason then love interest cannot stay. Even if the reason is honestly so disheartening and sad. I genuinely believe Riker cared for Soren, and this is so devastating. This was probably the best single episode relationship in terms of development.

Picard is so gentle and subtle with Riker.

Engage (!)

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