#than to pretend and continue with the toxic positivity

[stargirllanaa]

Sweet Little Lies -R.C

❥ Masterlist

Warnings: Dark!Rafe, infidelity, toxic relationship, abusive relationship, domestic violence, manipulation, slight mentions of past Dv, seriously Rafe is terrible

Summary: Everything goes downhill once you look through your boyfriends phone.

A/n ✎: Sorry I’ve been gone so long :( I have alot going on in my personal life and it’s been hard to get motivated to write. Please reblog and comment if you enjoyed!!! Btw my request are open again, don’t be shy ;)

Wc: 1.2k

18+ MINORS DNI YOU WILL BE BLOCKED

You were sitting on your boyfriend's bed, scrolling through Instagram while waiting for him to return from his shower. You laughed at something your friend sent you until you heard a ‘Ding!’ from Rafe's phone. You were surprised Rafe must have forgotten it; he never left his phone around you after he caught you going through it one too many times, but you ignored it; it was probably his dad or something you had no interest in.

You continued to scroll until you heard another ‘Ding!’ followed by three more. Who could be texting Rafe that many times? As your curiosity rose, you thought to yourself maybe you would just peak, but you knew you had to be quick; every time Rafe saw you even looking at his phone, he got angry, and when you remembered the time he caught you going through his messages, it sent a shiver down your spine.

You gazed at the bathroom door, hearing the water still running, and back to his phone. You quickly grabbed the phone, anxiety heightening as soon as it was in your hands. You tapped the screen, looking down at it in confusion as you read the name of the person texting him.

Sofia.

Your anger and anxiety started to rise as soon as you saw the girl's name. Why would a random girl be texting your boyfriend? What was going on between them? You were about to enter his password when you heard the bathroom door opening. You quickly tossed his phone back to where he had left it, but he noticed it bouncing off the bed and the guilty look on your face.

You sat stiff and played with your hair, pretending nothing had happened, but you couldn't ignore how Rafe looked at you. He lowered his eyebrows, jaw clenched, eyes narrowed; he looked furious.

“What are you doing?” Rafe questioned you as he stalked over to you, towel wrapped around his waist.

He noticed what you were doing, or else he wouldn't be asking you, so there was no point in lying, right?

“Who’s Sofia?” you asked Rafe as you looked up at him through your eyebrows.

You could tell his heart skipped a beat by the way he blankly stared past you as his eyebrows rose. You could also tell the gears in his brain were moving, trying to create a lie; by the way, he stood silently for a moment.

“Why were you going through my phone?” Rafe spat aggressively as he looked back down at you, arms crossed over his chest.

“Why does it matter? Do you have something to hide?” You quickly responded, pushing yourself off the bed into a standing position.

Rafe exhaled loudly as he walked over to you; he didn’t want to say too much. Rafe didn't know how much you saw, but he knew that you already knew way more than he wanted you to.

“Here we go with the accusations again..” Rafe muttered, getting closer and closer to you.

But you wouldn't let him intimidate you; you stood your ground.

“Are you going to answer the question?” you asked bluntly, trying not to get too emotional.

Rafe was making it so blatantly clear he was doing something behind your back; he was hiding something. Why not just answer the question if there was nothing to hide? Why did he freak out whenever he saw you looking at his phone? You knew subconsciously he was cheating; you just wanted him to admit it.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to go through my shit?” Rafe hissed, talking with his hands.

“I wouldn't have to if you would stop fucking around!” you snapped, pushing him slightly.

He didn't move, not even a little bit; instead, he wrapped his hand around your upper arm, gripping it tightly in one swift motion, causing you to wince in pain.

“Who are you talking to?” Rafe asked, looking you directly in the eyes. “Huh?” he sneered, shaking you roughly.

You could tell this wouldn't end well; you should have kept your mouth shut and apologized, but how were you supposed to move on and act fine, knowing your boyfriend was probably talking to other girls? That wasn't happening, and you already started this, so it would be pointless not to stand your ground.

“Is there anyone else in the room?” You hissed sarcastically, trying to pull your arm out of his grasp.

This made Rafe even angrier; first, you went through his phone and accused him of doing something he obviously did, and then, to make matters worse, you were being incredibly disrespectful. He started taking fast breaths before letting go of your arm and pushing you roughly, causing you to collide with his dresser, knocking the wind out of you.

You fell to the floor; the push was unexpected, and you hit the dresser so hard it brought tears to your eyes. This wasn't the first time Rafe had hurt you; it wasn't even the first time he hurt you for this reason. But every time he put his hands on you, it still shocked you.

How could someone who claims to love you like to see you in pain?

Rafe stalked over to you, kneeling over you and gripping a hand full of your hair. His eyes narrowed, looking directly into your tearful ones.

“You want this? Don't you?” Rafe accused, trying to make an excuse for how he treats you. “You act like a bitch and then wonder why I have to hurt you,” he said, pulling your hair back, forcing you to look back up at him.

“Do you hurt Sofia too?” you choked out as your tears spilled over; every breath you took was shaky in response to the pain all over your scalp.

Rafe's jaw clenched, a slight smirk painted on his lips; he looked up and back down at you.

“Maybe I don't. Maybe she knows how to fucking act.” Rafe hissed, pulling your head back further, causing your neck to hurt also.

You didn't respond; you just stared at him as your tears continued to run down your face rapidly. You kind of already knew he was cheating, but you didn't know how much it would hurt to hear him basically confirm your suspicions; while also hurting you physically.

“Maybe that's why I have to fuck other people.” Rafe fumed as he got closer to your face.

“Because you are so fucking irritating.” He let go of you with that, but he was still looking down at you with narrowed eyes and a clenched jaw.

And even though he let go, the pain didn't stop; that's the worst thing anyone has ever said to you. You knew you didn't deserve this, yet every time you told yourself you would leave, you convinced yourself not to.

“You wanted this, remember?” Rafe taunted, “What? Can't take the truth now?”

You brought your knees up to your chest, continuing to cry; you weren't just sad and hurt; you were also so fucking angry, angry with yourself for never having to courage to leave Rafe, angry with him for treating you like this, furious with the world for letting so man men get away with this shit.

“Now move; I need to get in my dresser.”

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

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#dark!rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #dark rafe cameron #obx fanfiction #outer banks fanfiction #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #dark rafe x reader #obx imagine #rafe cameron imagine #rafe obx #rafe fanfiction #rafe x reader #dark!rafe x reader #dark!fic #rafe outer banks

[allbark-no-bite]

This is Real Life || Rafe Cameron x reader

summary: the kook princess comes home from college with a new boyfriend and Rafe isn’t happy about it. unfortunately, he isn’t in the position to tell her what to do

warnings: 18+ smut, foul language, unprotected sex, slight mention of underage sex

word count: 3.8k

author’s note: this contains NO SPOILERS for season 3! y’all i have had this in the drafts for a year and couldn’t finish it. i was quickly motivated by the release of season three. i actually have some more OBX stuff on wattpad that i hope to transfer over if this gets some attention :)

It was feral really, their relationship. What else was to be expected of Ward Cameron's only son and the kook princess? But for the record, she preferred the term bastard. Born the illegitimate child of the second wealthiest man in the Outer Banks, she could go by whatever she wanted and people would still be besotted—albeit wary—by the name.

She was exactly the type of drug Rafe Cameron couldn't resist time and time again. Better than anything Barry could ever try to sell him. One taste and now he gets an itch for her worse than cocaine. Midsummers made this temptation all the more unbearable. Liable to her father's heavy name, she'd be inclined for the occasion to put on some kind of obscenely form fitting dress that left little to the imagination and Rafe intoxicated by the sight all night.

It's a toxic green color, and by toxic he means the dark teal accents her sun kissed skin and dark hair perfectly. She'd dyed it black two summers ago before leaving for college, and it had yet to return to its natural fair brown. He's sure she did it just to spite him. Rafe had always preferred blondes. But damn did it look good on her.  Shamelessly, his eyes drink her in as she flashes a pearly smile at the bartender taking her order.

Unfortunately, he also then catches sight of the guy standing next to her. He's a tall, brute of a man with large shoulders, a perfect nose, and sickening puppy dog like eyes. From the looks of him, he's undoubtedly one too many years her senior. Despite that, it's obvious that he's not the one in charge. Rafe watches as the older man hovers around her. He's confident in the way he carries himself, but Rafe can see how he moves around her with an air of caution, like he knows she's going to bite him if he gets too close. This observation leads him to his next point; the guy is not her type and Rafe knows it.

She met Armand nearly a year ago through a friend of a friend. He had returned to university from Europe to continue his studies with the leisure that his comfortable home life in a wealthy, two parent household provided him. While the six year age gap certainly raised eyebrows —specifically those of friends of her father's— it's not the reason she was uninterested in him.

Armand was the product of fine European breeding and the maturity that came with age. He spoke astutely and with confidence. He also had an unlimited amount of patience. And while it was nice to be indulged by his attentiveness every so often, it became quite boring if she was being honest. Armand was the type of guy one would bring home to meet their family, a quality that she had very little interest in.

Her eyes catch Rafe's from across the country club bar, and she immediately looks away. Instead she sweetly asks Armie, as she calls him, to get her another glass of champagne — her current one had gone warm. She pretends that she doesn't see him sidling up to her until he's standing right behind her.

Rafe has to hide his smile, licking his lips to wet them. After all these years, he's quite used to the games she plays. She makes him wait a few more seconds before she turns around, her exposed back pressing against the bar as she faces him. Her eyes first travel slowly down his body, coming about as close as one can to undressing a person without actually touching them, and only then returning to his face.

"What are you doing here, Cameron?"

They both know what she means is 'what are you doing in my face' and not 'what are you doing at Midsummers'.

Catching the message that she's not in the mood for any sort of shit answer he could give her about his required attendance at Midsummers, Rafe shrugs casually, rolling his expensive suit clad shoulders. His thumb drags across the smooth plane of his jawline, moving downwards and catching along his bottom lip.

"Heard you looked good in a sundress," he suggests, still trying to maintain an air of nonchalant indifference. He wants to know if her golden skin still tastes how he remembers it.

She rolls her eyes as a lazy, taunting smirk appears on his face. Before she can reply, Rafe saunters closer, practically eliminating the distance between them and blocking her against the bar. His face is close enough to her cheek that she can feel his hot breath as he wets his lips.

"Heard you looked good undressed."

Her expression remains unchanged, not bothered by his forwardness. "Would you let my brother hear those words come out your mouth?" She eyes him knowingly, feigning concern. "Wouldn't want to mess up your pretty face again."

The word 'brother' is synonymous to a warning to Rafe and immediately he glances sideways. Around them, residents of Figure Eight chatter and happily sip champagne. No one is paying the pair at the bar any mind. It is likely that no one has noticed them yet. Usually just the sight of the pair together is enough to draw a couple of stares.

When Malcolm Coors doesn't materialize from the crowd, Rafe's sharp blue eyes settle back on her. “Real funny," he sneers.

She has no shame in admitting she gets a little kick out of Rafe's fear of her brother. The two boys had graduated together a year before her, and she still remembers the pair of them being intentionally separated despite alphabetical order as they walked across the stage to receive their diplomas. Malcolm had been sporting a broken nose at the time and Rafe his own nasty looking black eye.

She smiles, enjoying his irritation. While she would like to bask in the fact that it looks like he's still licking his wounds after the past couple years, they need to get to the point before Malcolm does find them.

Rafe nods his chin over towards the unsuspecting back of her European rendezvous as he chatters amiably with the bartender. Rafe wants to swing a golf club through his perfect teeth. "How do you know this guy?"

She shrugs, playing at indifference. "Your inconsistency introduced us."

They haven't talked since before she blocked his number, which was over a year ago. The interaction wasn't exactly civil either. He specifically remembers screaming through the phone at some ungodly hour of the night and ending the call when she finally hung up on him by hurling his phone against the wall. Thankfully his parents had overheard the conversation and already assumed what all the noise was.

Biting back the urge to argue that he's not the one playing the hot and cold game, he persists "A bit old for you, don't you think?"

Her eyes don't follow Rafe's, which she knows are staring daggers at Armand. "You missed me," she points out.

Rafe sucks his tongue across the front of his teeth as an act of stalling, his expression becoming fed up and annoyed. Getting answers out of her has always been like pulling teeth. She doesn't want to play nice? Fine.

"Daddy doesn't have some billionaire's trust fund baby lined up for you?"

Her black lined eyes narrow. He levels his cool gaze with her. Oh he went there.

"Unlike you, my father has no say in my personal life." She's never referred to the man who sired her as anything other than her 'father'. It's the socially acceptable way of saying 'he's a bastard and I hate him'. "Besides, old money doesn't entice me, Cameron."

"Yeah?" he scoffs. Rafe leans in, murmuring softly into her ear. "That's not what you said what I was inside of you."

Her face flashes hot, and it's the first chip in her armor he has seen all night.

"I was seventeen. A minor, Rafe. You could go to jail for that," she snaps.

He smiles, cocking his head in a manner that says he isn't all that worried about his chances of going to jail. "You always act like I took advantage of you. Sweetheart, even if you hadn't begged me to screw you, we both know there's nothing you could have done to stop me."

It's her turn to scoff. "Am I suppose to thank you? You don't get an award for not being a fucking predator." She spits out the last part, and it causes a few heads to turn in their direction.

Among those heads, Rafe notices the blonde one of Malcolm; aka his sign that he needs to excuse himself. "Bitch," he mutters as he shoves past her.

She catches his arm before he can get too far. "Bathroom. Ten minutes.”

It is actually a grand total of twenty minutes before she finds Rafe in the small guest bathroom. Armie had remained glue to her side for another fifteen minutes and even after she managed to escape him, she was stopped by multiple friends of her father’s, asking how college was going and whatnot.

Nevertheless, Rafe waits for her. Each minute after ten, he promised himself he wouldn’t wait another, but the truth is he would have waited all night.

“Fuck. I’ve been thinking about this dress all damn night,” Rafe groans, grabbing a handful of her green velvet covered ass. His other hand is around her chin, guiding her mouth so that he can kiss her against the wall. Their mouths collide so bruisingly that for a moment he considers if he’s just broken his nose. Rafe doesn’t dwell on the possibility for too long because he’s been achingly hard for over twenty minute now and he won’t make it one more without coming in his pants. There’s only one place he’s coming tonight and it’s inside of her.

“I knew you were always a perv, Cameron,” she huffs out as he pulls away from the kiss to unbuckle his slacks and pull down his boxers. The length of him springs out against his stomach. Just looking at the size of him makes her legs shake. Much to her disappointment, he’s forcing her around, hips pressed against the counter before she can ogle at the sight of him for long.

Rafe slips into her as though it were a well practiced move and not something he hasn’t done in over a year. He still knows his way around her body.

She nearly yelps in surprise at the sudden intrusion. “Jesus—”

“Shut up,” he snaps, breathing hard. Just the feeling of her around him is enough to make him spill right now and he’s trying to hold on a while longer. Stomach burning with the effort of not coming, he bucks, just once to satiate himself, into her. The feeling is overwhelming.

Not pleased with his sudden lack of performance, she consciously clenches around him. “Are you going to fuck me or what because I’m sure Armie—”

Rafe cuts her off by drilling his hips back into her once more, this time much more forcefully, and her pelvis hits the counter. That is going to bruise. Rafe grabs a fist full of her dark hair. “I’m going to fuck you so good you forget his goddamn name. I don’t want to hear it again. You hear me?”

Eyes locked with his in the mirror, she nods quickly, desperate to let him have his way with her. “Fuck. Yeah, Rafe. Please just fuck me.”

Without wasting anymore time adjusting to the feel of her, Rafe begins thrusting his hips rhythmically at a ridiculous pace. The hot heat of her seems to suck him back in each time and he wonders if she’s like this for him. Armand. By the way she’s panting, moaning against the counter, he would say no.

As weird of a thing that it is to say, there are people who are good at sex, and then there are people who are great at sex. Rafe is one of those people. She’s never been with another guy who fucks her like Rafe does. It’s raw and filthy and animalistic.

Just when she think he’s as deep as he can be, he shuffles a bit, readjusting himself to get a better angle and hit a spot inside of her that tears a cry from her throat.

“Oh fuck— Please, Rafe. That’s it. That’s enough. I can’t—” When she starts begging for him to stop is when he knows she’s close. She’s always been too prideful to tell him when she’s close and it pisses him off to no end. He slows his pounding to get in a few more drawn out thrusts. The head of him catches inside of her and she cries at the sensation.

“There you go, there you go,” he groans, finding the breath to encourage her to finish as he struggles to control himself. “Feel me? Atta girl, you’re right there. Right there, baby.”

Crying out a moan, her head falls back as she orgasms, her walls fluttering in protest around him. The shock last for several long seconds throughout her entire body, and she contemplates if she’s ever going to be satisfied by another orgasm ever again. Even after, the electric buzzing sensation remains, and she remembers that Rafe is still throbbing inside of her.

Without warning, he thrusts into her a couple more times before finding his own orgasm. With his nose pressed into her hair, mouth right next to her ear, Rafe moans as he releases inside of her, and he hears her breath hitch at the sound. As if he needed proof of the fiery ball that had been pent up in his stomach all evening, he spills and spills and spill inside of her. It leaves him trembling by the time he’s done.

“Fuck,” he groans.

“Fuck,” she repeats, humoring him. He almost laughs but he doesn’t think he had the energy left for it.

Slowly moving again, the noise that his dick makes fucking into her, his cum dripping out is obscene, but he wants to savor the hot mess of her around him for as long as he can.

Smugly, he catches her gaze in the mirror, watching himself move in and out of her. The mascara under her eyes is smudged, making her searing gaze all that much darker. Rafe thinks she always looks perfect no matter what. He does have a bias towards ‘freshly fucked’ though.

As much as he would like to remain pressed against her —and in her— he knows she’ll only tolerate him for so long. So with a final sigh, he presses a prolonged and affectionate kiss to her hair and pulls out of her. As she fixes her dress, he tucks his still-leaking dick back into his boxers, pulls up his pants and watches her walk out the bathroom without a word. Rafe waits a respectful few minutes after her to make his exit.

Feeling truly fucked out, no pun intended, he heads over to the bar, where he spots her with her boyfriend, his arm wrapped low around her waist as he kisses her cheek. He needs a fucking drink, he thinks. And then, probably something stronger.

—

There are very few things that can rouse her from the dead sleep that she gets in her childhood bedroom. Coming home to the plush baby blue comforter that covers her perfectly made bed is like downing a handful of melatonin gummies after sleeping on a crummy twin mattress for nine months. Despite this usually holding true, Armie is the only one dead asleep beside her.

'I’m going to fuck you so good you forget his goddamn name.'  The memory keeps replaying in her head. The perfect infliction of his voice down to the scent of him as he leaned in is marred into her memory. He still wears the same cologne.

Without warning, her phone on the bedside table blares to life, ringing loudly, and the bright screen illuminates the mostly dark bedroom. Scrambling to shut it off before the commotion wakes Armie up, her immediate response is to swipe the answer button.

"Hello?" she asks, her voice hushed, into the phone.

"I need you, (y/n)."

Rafe's voice transfers crystal clear through the receiver, like he's not even trying to be quiet.

"Rafe?" Cupping her hand over the speaker and pressing the device closer to her ear, her eyebrows furrow as she hurriedly swings her legs over the side of the bed and quickly tiptoes out into the hall."Rafe?" she asks, this time louder now that Armie can't hear her. "Are you fucking cra—"

"I—I don't know, I don't know, I don't know. I— fuck, (y/n). I just—" He's rambling, his smooth as honey voice much thicker than usual and notably less precise. He sniffs, loudly.

She sighs as he tries to collect himself over the line, mumbling and stuttering. "Why do you only call me when you're high, Cameron? I mean, seriously?" This is not the first time he's phoned her in the middle of the night, high out of his mind.

Rubbing her hand over her eyes, she checks the clock on the wall. It's well past 3 am. There's a slim chance she will even get any sleep at this point.

"Listen, (y/n). I–I just—"

"No, you listen," she snaps, cutting him off. "You'd better be at your house when I get there or else. Got it?"

She can hear him swallow over the phone and something crashes to the floor. "Yeah— I— yeah, I will. I will."

"Okay, bye."

"Bye."

It helps that the Cameron's live only a few houses down. In reality, no one lives very far from anyone in the Outer Banks. Figure Eight is only a bike ride away from the Cut.

With the majority of the Cameron household likely asleep, and not caring to wake up Ward, she walks in without knocking. She'd never knocked before and wasn't about to make a habit of it now. Creeping slowly through the entryway, her sneakers echo loudly on the pristine tile floor. She knows this house like the back of her hand and therefore has no difficulty in navigating it in the dark. Around her, the house is still.

"Ra—" A hand clamps around her mouth from behind, effectively cutting of her startled shriek. Shoving his heavy body off of her, she whirls around to face him. "What are you doing?" she whispers loudly, shoving his hands away.

"I didn't want to scare you," Rafe defends, his blue eyes shining even in the darkness.

Shoving him once more in the chest, hard for good measure, she moves past him into the kitchen and flips the light on. Now that she can actually see, she steps back to take him in.

His pupils are blown, leaving very little of the blue of his eyes distinguishable. The suit jacket from earlier in the evening is gone, but everything else, from his dress shoes to the the white button up shirt underneath remain. Half of the top buttons of his shirt are open, revealing the golden skin of his chest. Nervously, he rubs at the back of his neck, where the short crop of his buzz cut fades.

"(y/n), I—," Rafe begins, stepping towards her.

"Shut up, Rafe."

His head fogged with the determination to get her to just listen to him, he ignores her instruction. "C'mon, baby. I just—"

"Shut up, Rafe," she repeats, sterner this time. She knows his head is not in the right place at the moment, and he needs to get it together if they're going to have this conversation.

"I need—"

"I said shut up!"

Finally something must reach the inside of that thick skull of his and Rafe immediately clamps his jaw shut. Now silent other than his heavy breathing, his big doe eyes watch her attentively.

She stares at him for a moment, using the quiet to gather her thoughts. Seeing him like this tears her up a little inside and it’s hard to find the right words to say to him. Sure, she treats him like shit most of the time, but that’s because it’s like second nature to the two of them. Fucking is the only thing they’re both good at.

She knows somewhere behind his drug induced haze, he’s really just a scared little kid. Most people take one look at Rafe and assume he’s just another screw up, destined to end up mooching off the Cameron family inheritance for the rest of his life. But she knows deep down that he has it in him to be better.

“You gotta stop, Rafe.” That’s the most honest and genuine sentence she’s spoken to him in a year. “This is not some prodigal son fairytale where you just get to walk away from it all when you decide to get your shit together. This is real life.” Her voice has risen towards the end and his already glossy eyes look wet.

Rafe can count on one hand the number of times he’s cried in his life, especially in front of someone else. His emotions tend to teeter from slightly cocksure to overwhelming rage without much of a grey area. But right now his throat feels tight and his eyes burn and he’s coming pretty damn close. And maybe it’s from the coke he snorted earlier but even that’s starting to wear off. He knows because his head isn’t swimming anymore and his eyeballs don’t feel like they’re rolling around in their sockets.

Fighting the swell of emotion that is threatening to erupt out of his chest, he looks up, tongue pressed into the inside of his cheek, suddenly not wanting to look in her eyes. Rafe finally nods, sniffing hard while he gathers himself. “I know,” he whispers, the noise barley even audible.

Still nodding to himself, he settles his gaze back on her. “And I know you think that this is the cocaine talking, but I promise you it’s not. I mean it when I say I need you.” Timidly, he paces towards her from across the kitchen. “I—I need your help. I need you. I—”

While he continues to ramble, she hushes him as he rests his chin in the crook of her neck. One hand cups the back of his head while the other rubs his shoulder through the soft cotton of his shirt. “Okay. You’re okay,” she murmurs into his ear, still holding onto him as he sinks to his knees on the kitchen floor. He’s tall enough that his head meets the middle of her stomach even on the floor.

Rafe can’t recall the last time anyone has held him so carefully before. But he does know that it feels wildly more intimate than any sort of sex they’ve ever had. Drowsy with relief and crashing from his high, he almost asks her if she loves him. It would be so easy to breathe the words, but instead he closes his eyes and lets her hold him a while longer.

#rafe x y/n #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron x reader #rafe imagine #rafe cameron smut #rafe smut #outer banks #obx smut #obx3 #obx imagine #obx x reader

[prolix-yuy]

A Gift of Light and Joy

Pairing: Javi Gutierrez x F!Reader "Conejita" (Plus Sized Reader)

Summary: Javi wants to spoil you, but his good intentions put you in a difficult position.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, oral sex (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), unprotected PiV sex (don't be a fool, wrap your tool), cumming on someone, minor cum play, negative body image, toxic shopping culture, some angst, Javi is clueless about women's clothes shopping but he makes up for it.

Notes: Happiest of happy birthdays to my darling, my sweet friend, the indescribable @ezrasbirdie! I was planning to post this around November but I couldn't pass up a chance to give you a fun little Javi present. I am so lucky to know you and get to yell about stories together!

While in the two previous stories Conejita wasn't described as plus sized, I always headcanoned that she was from the start. There are a couple references to the previous stories, but you can also dive in right here! Like most stories this is me working through a few bad experiences of my own, and while Javi may be a little thick in the beginning he will get to make up for it.

Cross-posted on AO3

Continued from On the Right Flight and A Bearable Weight

“I have a surprise for today.”

Javi’s gleeful face ramps up your own excitement as he ushers you into his car. 

“I thought we were going to have a picnic?” you ask as he flops into the drivers seat, curls bouncing almost as much as he is.

“That was my distraction,” he says, picking up your hand and kissing the back of it. Your heart still flutters, even months after that first one at the stroke of midnight. 

Dating Javi had, of course, been just as much of a step off the deep end as you thought. Even being close by now that you’re back in LA for work and he’s hobnobbing with the Hollywood elites, some days getting dinner feels like making a doctor’s appointment. Matching schedules down to the half hour, groaning when something comes up. But it’s all worth it when the stars align and he’s on your doorstep with all-encompassing hugs and breathless kisses. 

At first Javi’s dates were low-key and low-stress - a day at the beach, movie nights of course - but as you got closer and closer he started to take you places that had dress codes and extravagant names. He always beamed like you were the only one in the room, but you’d been in enough spaces you didn’t belong to feel eyes and judgements skitter across your back. 

You could be poised, and knowledgeable, conversational and charming, but nothing changed how you looked. Javi was always dripping in Armani, Burberry, Brioni. Your paltry wardrobe didn’t stand a chance. Every new art show or movie premiere sent you running to a department store to find a new dress (pretty girls on their rich boyfriend’s arm didn’t reuse eveningwear) and inevitably you’d be pinched or poked or squeezed into something not made for you. Long minutes spent in the bathroom wondering if Javi would notice the bra strap divot in your shoulder, or the dark lines of seams pressed along your skin. Pretending you enjoyed slipping into a silk robe every time you spent the night was more palatable than the embarrassment of wriggling out of shapewear in front of him, or refusing to let him undress you in case a zipper pulled too tightly. 

Unfortunately, you didn’t hide your discomfort as well as you imagined. Sometimes you caught Javi’s concerned look when the built-in corset made you squirm in your seat, or when you winced at the chafe of your heels. 

So when he parks his car on Rodeo Drive he’s the picture of pride and sunshine. You, on the other hand, leave your stomach on the sidewalk behind you.

“I wanted to do something special,” he’s saying, muffled words bubbling up as your feet trudge to a gleaming glass door. There’s security inside, sales people scattered around holding hangers up to discerning buyers. “And before you say anything about money, I don’t want you to look at a single price tag.” Javi turns your face to him with a gentle nudge, breaking your doom stare through the glass. “I want to spoil you a little. You never let me spoil you.” His pout brings a little smile to your face, dipping in to kiss him. 

“We can do anything Javi. I don’t need things,” you try to deflect, hoping you can convince him away from the inevitable rejection you’ll receive inside. 

“Just one time?” he asks again, soft brown eyes imploring you. How could you say no? 

“Okay,” you breathe out, steeling yourself for the worst as Javi beams back at you.

“I thought this place would match what you like,” he says as two suited doormen guide you inside. It flutters your heart. He’s right, you’ve always liked this designer’s silhouettes and styles. It’s exactly what you’d choose…if you were several sizes smaller.

“Hi, do you have an appointment?” a small-framed woman with black plastic glasses and a bouncy ponytail asks. She’s dressed head to toe in the designer’s current collection, sleek black throughout with stylish red earrings that dangle down her neck. Her smile isn’t as cold as you might expect. You’d heard horror stories of snide sales people practically insulting clients to get them to spend more. 

“Yes, Gutierrez,” Javi offers smoothly, placing a grounding hand on your lower back. “For my girlfriend.” You shoot him a lopsided smile. He doesn’t get the chance to say it often, but when he does you love the way girlfriend rolls off his supple lips.

“Ah, yes, miss…” the sales woman begins, letting you offer your name. You catch a fleeting look of concern cross her face. Her cheek sucks in like she’s chewing on it, smile still bright but eyes more cautious.

“My name is Melanie, if you’d like to follow me to your consultation space,��� she says, leading you and Javi to a curtained-off partition with several chairs, a changing room and a pedestal that makes your stomach flip. 

“So what are you here to find today?” Melanie asks. Javi settles in a chair, spreading his knees and leaning back so sexily you can almost forgive him for the anxiety pumping through your veins. 

“Whatever my Conejita desires,” he says, and you’re torn between smacking or straddling him. Melanie turns her attention to you and you wrack your brain.

“I guess…a dress would be nice?” you say. Javi reaches out to squeeze your hand reassuringly, adoration so clear in his eyes. He truly has no idea it’s the most likely to have ease in the sizing. You might make it out with one and blame it on not wanting to overspend. Javi would get his wish, and you would make it out with most of your ego unscathed. Win-win.

Melanie leads you out of the space and into the clothing racks. The choices are sparse, a few items hung per rack in an exclusivity motif. As soon as you’re out of earshot she starts chatting.

“Your boyfriend is very sweet to be treating you today.”

You hum and nod, chewing the inside of your lip. Some of the pieces are very pretty, flattering cuts and classic shapes, but none of the silhouettes look large enough for you. 

“Does he…do this often?” Melanie asks carefully, and when you look at her you see an understanding that soothes you ever so slightly.

“First time.”

“A surprise.”

“Yeah, pretty big one.”

Melanie smiles at that, arms wrapped around an iPad. Her nails are very pretty tapping against the device.

“Let’s take a look back here,” she says, leading you off the main floor and further into the store. The racks are fuller back here, but not nearly enough to make you think success is within reach. Your chest tightens, but you put on a cheery smile when Melanie turns back to you.

“Men are just…so thick sometimes,” she sighs, and the sharp change makes you bleat out a laugh. “I’m sure Mr. Gutierrez has the best intentions in mind…”

You nod and finish her sentence.

“...but you don’t have anything here for me.” Her hands clutch at the tablet again, going white around the knuckles.

“We might have a few things, but they’ll be simpler. Not like the current collection.”

“Simple is fine,” you rush to say, her smile making your own come to the surface. 

“Okay, let me go digging. I think we can make it work. I’m…” She pauses to clear her throat, lowering her voice. “I’m sorry this isn’t fun. I hate it. I just want everyone to feel happy in their clothes, not…left out.”

You turn your comfort to her, squeezing her shoulder.

“I appreciate you trying to help.”

Melanie scurries off to the backroom, leaving you on the bustling floor with ten other women who could slip into anything off the rack no problem. Weaving aimlessly, you peruse the dresses. Each one holds promise, which only makes it more disappointing when the tag numbers run too small. But you’re keeping positive, searching for Melanie’s bouncing ponytail returning with anything. You’d gush over a mumu. 

“Excuse me,” comes over your shoulder, and you turn to another sales woman hovering expectantly behind you. Her brow is lifted high, barely waiting for you to shift before tugging a garment off the rack. She turns quickly, but in the split second before you see it. That stomach-dropping look that screams good luck slathered in sarcasm. Your throat clenches, hands coming to your middle and you wish you could just collapse into yourself like a dying star. 

“Fuck this,” you whisper, tears shining in your eyes as you hurry back to the consultation space. You’ll tell Javi you have a headache, that you’re too hungry to shop right now, anything to convince him to get the hell out of here. 

“Cone…” he says as you burst in, snatching up your purse and steeling your voice. The sunshiney excitement trades quickly for concern. “What is wrong? I promise the cost…” 

“Actually, I don’t really…I don’t…” You try to get out your white lies with an even tone but when Javi cups your face in his large hands your composure crumples. A fat tear breaks rank and rolls down your face, Javi’s eyes widening with shock.

“Conejita, what’s wrong? Did something happen?” His eyes darken a fraction. “Did someone say something to you?”

Your heart skips a beat, which you blearily file for later introspection. Resting your head on his shoulder, he envelops you in his arms. Orange peel and musk surrounds you, Javi’s soothing hands traveling up and down your spine. When your breaths stop warbling you pull back, wiping your face.

“I’m sorry…” you start to say, but Javi moves you to sit. He drops to a kneel, clasping your hands in your lap.

“No, Conejita, you are not apologizing for one second. What has upset you? Was it someone out there?” When you shake your head, his eyes soften. “Was it me?”

“Oh Javi,” you sign, squeezing his hands. Your lashes are still wet with tears, but you can see his dread so clearly. “I really appreciate this, all of it. I’m sure it’s flattered lots of people before. But I’m…me.” You release a big breath, the pain of keeping all your anxieties in finally easing. “I can’t shop at places like this, Javi, I don’t…they don’t make clothes like this for people my size.” 

Javi’s concern smashes into confusion.

“But they must have seamstresses in the back. They take your measurements, no? Find an acceptable piece and tailor it?”

The laugh you bark out is watery but it does raise the corners of your lips.

“Men have it so easy,” you bemoan. “I think the closest size I saw was still in the single digits. And even then, the numbers rarely mean anything.” Javi’s confusion only deepens.

“But how do you know what to buy? Surely the measurements are the same. Inseam, waist, sleeve length, how can it be so different?”

“Javi, I’m rarely the same size at the same store.”

Javi sputters. “That’s madness. How does anyone put up with that?” 

You giggle lightly, the tears finally receding. “I just go to the department stores. More variety, more sizes. No pushy sales people. Though Melanie is really nice.”

“But you are still uncomfortable,” he says, stroking his thick thumbs along the back of your hands. “I did not want to say anything, but I noticed. You do not seem to feel good in the nice things you wear.” 

You shrug. “It’s not perfect, it’s just…easier.”

His eyes implore up at you. “I wanted you to feel good with me.” Your heart patters, Javi’s face falling. “But I have made it worse. Please forgive me, Conejita, I truly did not know this would be so painful.”

You pat Javi’s cheek and give him a quick kiss. “I know, Javi. I know you didn’t mean for it to be.” A tap on his nose makes him smile. “But next time, when the lady doth protest too much, maybe listen?” Javi’s cheeks pink as he nods.

“Shakespeare has always been wiser than me,” he jokes as he helps you back to your feet. He leads you back to the front of the store with one hand on your back, and for a few seconds you do feel like the most beautiful person in the room. Women looking at you in awe, Javi’s fingers pressing in a way that’s subtly possessive. You could be lady Godiva riding a Shetland pony and not feel a lick of shame when he looks at you like that.

“Mr Gutierrez!” Melanie calls as she hurries up to the front to intercept. Her hands are empty, which is a relief.

“Thank you for your help, I just don’t think there’s anything for me here,” you say in a practiced tone that makes Javi pull you closer and Melanie’s eyebrows knit in the middle. She nods, extending a folded piece of paper to Javi. 

“I’m sorry they didn’t have something for you today,” she says, and Javi takes the proffered paper. He leads you out of the store and into the fresh sunlight of the street. Unfolding it, he raises an eyebrow then secrets it away in his jacket pocket.

“What was that about?” you ask, tucking your arm into his elbow. He shakes his head.

“Nothing important. What is important is going to get some lunch, then we are going driving with the top down and dinner at my place after.” 

“Javi…” you say with a little warning, but he tuts at you as his long stride pulls you down Rodeo drive.

“I know, I know what you will say, but bear with me because I am learning how to love you the right way. Today was not so good, but I would like to try and make it better.” He slows down when he catches your wide eyes and dazed smile. “What? What have I said now?”

“That you love…” the last words disappear on the wind as Javi’s smile crinkles his eyes.

“Of course, Conejita. Dios mio, of course I love…I love you,” he rushes out, barely able to finish before crashing his lips into yours. Wide palm cupping your head, you couldn’t care less that you’re making pedestrians part around you. Javi loves you, even if he’s a little clumsy about it. But when someone wants to learn to love you the right way…how can you not love every atom of them back?

The following weekend finds you in one of the lesser-used rooms in Javi’s house, sitting on a chair by the window. He deposited you there with a cappuccino and a promise to wait, so now you’re doing just that. Javi does love surprises, but you never expected Melanie to walk in the door.

“Oh my god, hi,” you manage to get out, standing up to shake her hand but are treated to a tight hug instead. She looks brighter, lighter than the last time you saw her, black ensemble traded for a pale blue button-up and floral patterned pants. 

“Javi told me it was a surprise, and I want it on the record that after this one he’s not allowed any more!” You sit across the little cafe table from her with visible confusion.

“I am a bit…lost…as to the surprise,” you giggle out nervously, which has Melanie opening a smart black bag and taking out folios and fabric swatches.

“I’ve been trying to get my stylist business off the ground and…” She pauses for a moment before making genuine eye contact. “And if there’s anything I was meant to do, it’s find people clothes that make them happy. So I offered him my services and he’s…well, he’s been very generous.”

Pride swells in your chest. So Javi.

“So what we’re going to do today is figure out what you like, don’t like, colors, styles, and then I’ll start building your wardrobe. Sound good?” Melanie’s smile is contagious.

“Sounds amazing.”

You don’t quite understand every step of the process. At one point she drapes color swatches on your chest like a bib and you can’t help but giggle. But it’s fun, maybe for the first time you can remember. She writes down that you hate side-seam zippers and skirts cut above the knee. That you love color but not too garish. And when you catch Javi pacing outside the glass door to the patio, peeking in anxiously every five minutes, your smile softens. She probably doesn’t write that part down. That’s written on your face. 

You can’t stop twirling in the mirror, inspecting from every angle. You try to scrutinize, but you can’t find a single thing wrong.

It’s perfect.

After the wardrobe cleanout, the basics overhaul, and the lengthy plan Melanie made, she asked a thrilling question. 

“What’s the first piece you’d like me to find?”

“I’ve always wanted a little black dress,” you replied, and her smile almost eclipsed her face.

“I have the perfect one in mind.”

She wasn’t kidding. It’s full and flouncy, smoothing in all the places you normally criticize and accentuates your figure in the best ways. The fabric is sumptuous under your fingers, just the right weight without dreaded sheerness. You can imagine yourself with hair done up, your favorite lipstick, Javi’s hand on your lower back, that possessive glint in his eyes. All of the excitement makes you spin three more times, the room tilting briefly before you catch Javi standing in the doorway.

“Hey!” you call out breathlessly, smoothing the skirt again. “It’s the first thing Melanie’s sent over. I…oh my god, I love it so much.” You turn to look in the mirror again, and in the reflection you see Javi’s mouth parted, eyes dragging over you. His fingers are rubbing together at his sides and…is he clenching them?

“She took everything I said and just found the most perfect dress.” Your thumb catches in the fabric and you spin back around to gasp, “And it has pockets!”

You’ve barely taken your hands out of them when Javi is on you, all greedy mouth and firm hand on the back of your head. His tongue demands on your lips, slipping inside when you gasp for him. Arm banding around your back, he steadily walks you backwards towards the bed. 

“Conejita, mi amor, eres tan hermosa,” he pants, his wandering hand settling on your ass and squeezing. It crackles between your thighs, white-hot arousal at how he holds you. Javi has always been generous in bed, and highly competent, but this is a side of him you haven’t seen. Maybe briefly when he asked you if someone bothered you at that awful boutique store. 

Before you can rationalize anything further he guides your hips down to the bed, teetering on the edge. He quickly drops to his knees and dives his hands under the skirt, sliding one knuckle along the seam of your pussy. 

“Javi…” you squeak out, but his touch leaves to curl around your underwear and yank them down your legs. The rip of a seam makes arousal gush between your legs, spreading them instinctually. He licks his lips before fisting your skirt above your waist and ducking down to taste you for too brief a moment. Your hips buck, teeth nipping at your inner thigh before he lifts up to kneel between your legs. 

“Javi, the dress,” you caution, and with a sweeter smile he shifts his knees to make sure the fabric isn’t trapped between. When his eyes meet yours again he plants a hand by your head and laps between your lips, slow and sensual. The clink of his buckle coming undone aches deep in your core, fisting his button-up across his shoulders. 

“I’m sorry, Conejita, I just…cannot control myself when you look so beautiful,” he confesses as his fingers tease at your entrance. A choked whimper ekes out as he opens you up on two, pumping mercilessly into your clenching heat. He swears in Spanish into your neck, and your quiet whines grow to moans when his thick cock begins thrusting into the crease of your hip. His panted breaths start to take on a rumble, then a growl as his fingers match his shallow thrusts. Overwhelmed, you grasp at what words will make him give in.

“Javi, please, oh my god, please fuck me,” you finally manage, rocking your hips with his frantic pace. 

“You’re ready for me?” he husks, your vociferous affirmations drawing his fingers out to leave you achingly empty. He slicks his cock with you, lining up and pressing just the head in before he plants his hands by your head and just…looks at you.

“Dios mio, eres una diosa,” he breathes, all of the sweet man you love. Grabbing around his wrists, you roll your hips down to sink more of him inside. He stretches you so deliciously, filling your cunt and lungs.

“Take it, Javi,” you rasp, head tossed back. “Show me I’m yours.”

Javi bites his lower lip and looks at you with a depth you crave. Infatuation and devotion and a desire so hungry you want to sate him for hours. In a dizzying flick of his wrists he now presses yours into the bed. 

“Mine,” he purrs, and the snap of his hips as he buries himself flush draws a lusty cry from your lips. “My beautiful Conejita,” he grits out, grinding his hips deep to press punishingly into your g-spot. You writhe under him, legs clamped around his waist as he slides out just enough to punch back in. “You are mine, aren’t you?”

“Oh fuck, Javi, yes, I’m yours,” you beg, and it’s exactly what he needs to begin fucking you earnestly, scooping his hips to drive deeper and deeper. The friction of his grind strums your clit just right to tremble around him. Pinning you with a rumble, he fucks you into the mattress until his wandering hands can’t stop from palming your breast, rolling your nipple through the fabric. The spike of pleasure urges you to meet him stroke for stroke, riding him just as hard back. He grabs your chin just firmly enough to coax more slick to coat his cock, guiding you back to his demanding mouth. He steals your breath, sucking your lower lip between his teeth and groaning when you shudder around him.

“Not going to last, mi amor,” he whispers, lacing your fingers together as his thrusts lose rhythm. 

“Cum on my pussy,” you plead, and with a strung-out moan he pulls out just quick enough to cover your mound with his hot spend. It drips lewdly, sliding to gather in the crease of your thighs. His eyes are fixated on it, the brand of his lust sticky on you. Your orgasm tips over as he slides his thumb through his cum to press firmly on your clit. His name is all you can manage as pleasure laps over your skin, his touch grounding as he praises you over and over.

In the afterglow, Javi folds the length of your skirt well above the mess he made. 

“I will be sure to send this to drycleaning before you want to wear it,” he says, pulling a juddery giggle from your chest. He stands oh shaky legs and you glimpse his wet cock in the vee of his open pants, realizing you just fucked like college kids so horny for each other they couldn’t even undress properly. It makes you giddy as he brings over tissues to clean up, careful not to leave any of his spend where it could stain. When he’s finally satisfied he drops down on the bed, opening his arms for you to snuggle into. Once fitted together, eyes heavy, he murmurs in your ear.

“It wasn’t the dress.”

You hum sleepily, sitting up to look into his sated face.

“You are most beautiful when you are happy,” he says, the earnestness earning him another sweet kiss.

“I am very, very happy Javi.”

He doesn’t need to tell you that he is. It’s written on his face, and in his heart. 

END

#javi gutierrez x reader #javi gutierrez x you #javi gutierrez x f!reader #javi gutierrez x female reader #javi gutierrez fanfiction #tuwomt fanfiction #tuwomt fanfic #the unbearable weight of massive talent fanfiction #prolix fics

[eetheon]

-MiNUS-

WARNING: manipulation, gaslighting, toxic relationship, minor suicide and depression mentioned, cannibalism

A/N: pretend that the poster said chapter 1 teehee 🕳️🚶

MiNUS: is a story mixed between greek mythology and bible (with jewish mythology creature idk) about a newborn son of Nyx actually caring about the world's situation between the gods and sets an impossible ambitious goal

the story is not accurate to the original and can only see as an alternative story between the two major stories

Chapter-1

As the tears of the primodial goddess, fell and rest upon her bare hands, the hands of a mother that lost her beloved daughter. Nyx mourned for such long time until her heart could no longer ache anymore, both of her palm rest in front of her very core as it's cosmos' power and rule blooms in sadness and spread throughout the whole night nation, her brows furrowed in frustration thinking about.. her long gone daughter

-Oizys, was a sad and poor girl. Her cosmos rule enable her to feel every negative emotions of every being on earth and could be used as her cosmos power, but she could never feel any positive emotions other than neutral and negative. She was the daughter that Nyx loved the most, having her passed away broke Nyx’s motherly heart in every single way as painful as possible, yet she couldn’t just sit and cry and expect it to bring her daughter back to life, though there’s much more important things approaching, much more heartbreaking for her to take even if she already know what it is.

That’s why she’s creating a new deity, a new god, a new son. The new god of negativity, depression and misery.

But unlike her daughter, he has a separable senses which called core in the vocabulary of god. She destined for him to be able to take out the core that senses the feeling of sadness, and also the core that transfers every negative feeling into his cosmos power, the power core. But because of the harm that was coming, she destined him to grow within a year making him the youngest child. But at that time she was too messed up to write his cosmos identity properly as she immediately released the newborn god to the world with a command, “balance the world’s sentiment, alongside your partner, goddess Euphrosyne.” Right after her words, he descended to the world with a confused and unknowing feeling.

Nyx' hiccups and cries continued to slip out of her mouth as her body weakened, plunges down onto the floor and drown into the ‘felt like’ eternal despair and desolation, without anyone to lift her up into their limbs, or so she thought she was alone.

As a presence of the second known primordial god, one who swore to protect her yet, he stood there behind her and spoke softly, “replacing our youngest precious child already? You must’ve been miserable my love.” He said while walking forward to her inadequate body.

“Dear, for what you’ve done, it’s not only for the child’s sake nor ours. But you benefited me quite astoundingly, say me my dear, were you to voluntarily assist me, into achieving the highest authority of the whole expanded universe?” Nyx look at him with the same sorrowful eyes the same as the few minutes before, while he caress her right hand to lift her up gently. She opened her mouth to let out shaky words

“But Erebus… we know you can’t do that… it’s entirely impossible to reach that high dear-“

—“So you’re not willing to help me? Aren’t I your most beloved one my dear?"

“N-no it’s just that- it already happened to Momus—“

“Are you willing to assist me or not?”

Nyx flinched as Erebus’ voice echoed through the chamber’s emptiness, his expression remained stoic, while his free hand rose up to caress her almost-dried tear stained cheeks softly, but barely affectionately

“Yes dear…”

Erebus smiles softly, but plain, he nodded as a gratitude for her beneficial distribution, even if it was forced, the obscured sadistic desire of his, craving of his for obedience whether it was her or not. Erebus whispered her a sweet adieu, au revior as if she would wanted to acknowledge his presence anywhere, yet, she loved him as much as she was forced to

The embodiment of the darkness lord vanished into the other destination of his, she looked at the entrance of the large chamber again, just to perceive yet another presence

“Mother?”

“ how long have you been here, child” she asked the much younger man coldly, dragging her gaze away along with her head

“Enough for me to hear everything” the man said while trailing his gaze down, his head tilted down to the floor, his adam’s apple budged as he swallowed deeply while pondering to himself for a moment before asking his dear mother

“I’d really appreciated it if you open up to me, mother”

Nyx clenched her jaw slightly, she wanted to do that, she wanted to run into her dearly beloved child’s arms and express all of her imprisoned, excluded from sights of a sentiment to him. He knew how badly she craved for even a slightest genuine love and comfort, that’s why he wanted to persuade her to actually let out all of her agony.

But his presence, his aura, his appearance and part of his personality just tragically recalled someone who just happened to left right before she noticed her son’s presence

“You assume that your mother is in need of such help? Thanatos?”

“Mother, when I said I heard everything, It doesn’t go past my ear and left forgotte-“

“Take your leave and exclude yourself out of my sight, young man.”

Her son, Thanatos’ expression was filled with guilt and pity, he felt bad, he understands why she disliked him in someway, it is for her own good to push him away, but he felt worthless to not be able to help his mother even if he offered her everything she needed, yet, she denied everything from him. He loved her and he’s certain that she does too, but he missed the way she fill him with motherly affection and care, he missed everything before Erebus loses himself to his greediness, but he can’t and won’t be ready to understand his father just why, …..——

Thanatos sighed and didn’t say anything further, he bid her a farewell, knowing she would avoid seeing him even more, if only he could embed this splintered family

If only he could do anything about it

If only he could intervene

‘Dear the newborn, I entrusted that ability to thyself.’

Thanatos descended to the depths of the underworld while the dawn is shining

The newborn felt everything. Sadness, anger, grief, sorrow, pain, suicidal feelings, anxiety and many more than what words can describe, he was drawn towards the miserable feeling, it’s like he belonged to it even if he was just born few minutes ago, though, those feelings made him never wished to be born at all

The God’s sadness was multiplied by a lot, just how much have many suffered for him to feel this way? He wondered what kind of things each creatures here could have been through

That is when he felt much more greater pain towards the ground, beneath the upperworld, it was a different negativity that he felt

He felt sins, sins that many souls committed and was sent to suffer beneath the land, obscured from many’s eyes

The feeling was intense and the deity couldn’t resist to chase it. The divine presence roamed through the land, looking for an entrance, and that is when he came across the river, known by many as the river styx, the deity lean towards the cave hole to see nothingness, raven pit of void with nothing to discover, though, the closer he lean towards the pit, the more he was drawn to the feeling. Curiosity and stubbornness strikes, the deity jumped down into the pit, darkness covers his sight, mysteries below him are waited to be found

Soon enough, multiple cool-toned lights and torches lit throughout the land beneath him, it was dark yet beautiful, most of the dimmer lights are souls or known as shades, grouping up and forming in a few lines, many scattered across the landscape, brighter lights are mostly from torches and plants, he fell deeper and more further into the ground, he saw a many small old fashioned houses, the lights from the houses shine below him, though the eye catching and curious sight might distract him a little too much, he fell face first right into one of the house and crash into the first floor of it “what the heck?!” Loud word echoed across the room he crashed into, what misfortune, it was a bathroom

“…sorry” he says quietly while he quickly got up and ran away

Once he got out, he was surprised by how beautiful the town is up close, he noticed a large gloomy castle at the end of the land which is far away from him there are several houses and even a marketplace, yet, it lacks a literal term of life, there are few souls roaming around, a few gathered to look at him, an outsider isn’t new here, but he was different, there were many negative energy flowing in him that it attracted the souls too, this caused a little commotion in the area, curious, he doesn’t understand himself yet, but he could tell that his presence sparks curiosity in them, yet, disturbing for them

Again, the sudden shock of feeling magnet-like wave attracted him to go down further, the current place isn’t to his attractions yet, there’s more, beneath him, way lower than where he’s already standing, just before he can move forward, he heard a gentle male voice coming outside the crowd of shades

“Please, make way” the other male squeezed in the crowd of souls and make his way to him, he smiled gently and let out a small sigh, “I expected for you to be here, though.. there’s a little business I wanted you to attend” the male spoke, he noticed he had a beautiful long raven hair, his face mark is similar as his and his appearance.. “you look like my creator… but also like me” he spoke quietly, ignoring his earlier request, the male’s eyes expanded slightly “I do? That was the first time someone said that” the male chuckle slightly and held out his hand for the other male “let’s go, we can chat while we walk” he took his hand as the crowd of shades back away and some went back to do their things

A loud sigh echoed through the large chamber, a ruler clenching his fist with his pen in it, many pictures flashing in his head, the presence of the young newborn god, only a step in this realm, his power wave already damaged every creature in this realm, or even lower than the underworld, “Persephone…” the male in the chamber sighed out a name, trembling slightly, his quivering hand reached one of the devices and called someone

“Pardon me, but, do you mind bringing your newborn son back? I’m afraid he wandered off into the wrong place”

“Apologies, Hades, contact Thanatos to get the boy here” and Immediately, the other side hung up on him as if she didn’t want to talk, or in a hurry. Hades sighed again as he tries to maintain his sanity, the waves of negativity that that god is spreading is unbearable, it provoked memories he didn’t want to think about again, he lift his head up tirelessly and looked at the vase of flowers on his working table, many more pictures flash in his mind, the colors of it, texture of the vase, the memory when she gave him that vase and the eternal flower, irritatingly he swept the vase out of his sight, falling from the table and broke apart, millions of shards scattered on the floor, laying burden and meaningless while holding a bitter sweet scent of sorrow in it

“My lord, you called?”

Hades perked up to see Thanatos standing at the chamber entrance. “You seem troubled sir”, The king sighed and lean his head to rest on his fist, his eyes wander on the table as he hesitated to speak anything "Nothing to worry about, there's more important matter for you" Hades said while running his eyes up to look at his servant, Thanatos who put all the pieces together, doesn't need to be told anything, he simply let out an expression to express that he understands what the order is and simply bow and turn around to exit the chamber.

"I'll be holding this meeting in Lucifer's place, we wouldn't wait for him any longer"

Beneath the underworld lies an important figures, sitting together in their divine meeting as they discuss about the same trouble that Hades has been facing currently. One of the figures stood up and rest his hands on the table

"But he isn't in the good state right now, and neither of us too. For the plan, I have a new plan for the war, though I should be discussing this to Lucifer and Big brother first, but it's best for me to leave them for a while" a male with many gold jewelry said with a slight concern in his eyes

"I'm hoping for this meeting to actually be useful, Mammon" the youngest of them said with an unamused expression, crossing his arms and lean back against the chair, the ruler of greediness eyes shift to his younger brother with a furrowed brows but quickly went back to the topic right after

"As i was saying, we have a new plan on the war, and with this current strange situation, it could be very useful in the plan, and i think Lucifer would very love it" Mammon said while his eyes wandered at the table, trying to catch the presence of the new born god so he can elaborate further

"The greeks had a new deity, and that deity is the one causing us to trigger our negative emotions and memories right now, but i figured that if we got that deity, take it and make it one of us, with that amount of power we'll be able to go against them with a lot less struggle"

After Mammon's words, the siblings began thinking and discussing to each other for a moment, most are agreeing with each other

"Just how much we'll achieve after bypassing them" Mammon said with a soft smile, letting himself lost into the dept of his thoughts, after what Mammon said, his twin brother couldn't help but agree with him "true... we can eat as much angel wings as much as we want" but maybe his other siblings doesn't really agree with that

"Beelzebub, what the fuck."

Mammon look at his twin brother with a disturbed expression, not really liking what he said, though, they're already used to this

"Alright, so our current plan is that we'll go up and find that deity to make them our ally, is that clear" Mammon changed his expression back to more serious one, along with his tone, his eyes moving along to look at his brothers, waiting for their response. The sleepy demon who's next to Mammon lean back to his chair lazily, tilting his head to the left to look at his brother who was standing "Belphegor says we'll have to let the deity adapt with that power, if he can't handle nor control his power yet, then we're no different with him" the third person referring himself said with a tired smug, as much as Mammon wanted to argue him since he wanted to learn the deity's power as soon as possible, he knows that Belphegor is no different from what he wanted and what he said was precise, he chose to agree

"what Belph said is true, so I'd say we wait for a few months"

The feminine demon raise his brow at Mammon's word, questioning his suggestion "Few months? wouldn't that be too fast?"

The greed demon think to himself for a moment after the lust demon's question, he wasn't so sure about the time yet, "Then that few months is our minumum time to check that deity, we'll have to plan for a way to watch them on earth, or any other realm" Mammon said with a slight smile, huffing his chest again as he felt like he found a good plan, he wasn't the only one who agrees with himself

"mmm I mussh agree with shyou"

Beelzebub said while feasting on his raw food, disturbing his fellow brothers again with an oblivious eyes, Mammon clenched his teeth in disgust, then the few other brothers nodded their head in agreement, taking Mammon's attention to them

"very well, I'll report this meeting to Lucifer and big brother, our discussion ends for now, you guys can go do whatever you want"

Right after Mammon ended the meeting, the brothers soon take their leave to do other activities to their liking, leaving Mammon to be the last to leave, before he could step out, another figure appears in front of him

"Oh, the meeting's already ended?"

"Yeah, and the audacity for you to show up right after that"

Mammon look at the younger demon with a gut wrenching expression, he was not pleased with the demon's unprofessional behavior, "Oh well, I bet you guys didn't make any improvement without me" the demon shrug his shoulders, smiling and swallowing his own narcissism

"actually we got a plan"

"I bet that plan is going to fail soon"

Mammon scowls are becoming more visible, clenching his teeth as he was close to snapping at the demon at any moment, but he took a deep breath and calm himself down for a second, but before he knew it, the demon had already turned his back to walk away, Mammon took a step forward where the demon's direction headed and raised his voice

"The plan involved the new deity that is causing the commotion right now, it can be our ally or one of us if we convinced it"

Mammon's word stopped the demon who's on his track, making him hesitated for a moment and turn back to the greed demon, before he can open his mouth to say anything, Mammon cut him off with more bribing

"It can grant us freedom after the war, and even more other goals, I think you've already imagined all of it"

The demon eyes expanded slightly, but then he chuckles, causing Mammon to question whether he laughs out of joke or a prideful laugh

"Alright! that sounds amazing, guess you're not that bad after all" last words spoken by the demon before he turn back to his destination and move foward

Mammon grunts, but smiles warmly at the demon once he turn back to the opposite way, walking his way to the exit of the larger chamber, as his mind wanders into deep pit of his thoughts

“I am Thanatos, personification of death, I am your brother and your creator is our mother, which is why we’re similar” the long haired male spoke while leading him to an isolated island from the previous one, the newborn god look at him for a brief moment before his eyes shift away and look around the land, it was a floating island-like landscape, filled with a different kind of plants and a different scenery from the previous land, he remembered that one of the plants where he was standing is similar to the ones back when he was created, the place was as beautiful, but his eyes only filled with curiosity

In the middle of the land, there's a large spiral staircase, leading up to the mystery beyond his knowledge. Thanatos who noticed that the newborn deity drink up the scenery for a while, decided to rest at the staircase, he smiles warmly at his brother's curiosity

"You can always ask me you know"

The newborn deity shift his eyes to his brother, nodding as he walked foward to sit beside his older brother

"What's down there? I feel drawn to the place beneath us"

Thanatos' smile dropped slightly as he looked at his brother with a soft glaze "Just another realm, it's nothing for you to question about, nor a place for you to just jump off into" the younger god's eyes avoided Thanatos' after the last sentence, he turned away in embarrassment

"Curiosity is common among humans, even gods" Thanatos responded after he catch his brother's reaction, reassuring him while let out a small chuckle, the young deity nodded in response, his head tilted slightly downwards to think of a conversation

"Do I have a name?"

Thanatos looked back at him with the same soft smile, humming as an expression of thinking, he wasn't sure if he should name him himself, but he also think that Nyx couldn't careless enough to name him. Thanatos let out a soft sigh, finally answering the curious deity "not yet, but who would you like a name from?" Thanatos responded back with another question, though, he couldn't say that he wasn't hoping for the answer to be him

"you" The young deity answered without hesitation, leaving Thanatos' eyes widened slightly, he paused for a brief moment before letting out a chuckle, "alright, since you're here then, how about Dyavolos?"

"Wouldn't that be too long?"

"I think it's cool"

the younder deity ponder for a second, the name is nice, but he didn't like it, nor he had the ability to do so, he also didn't hate it, it's just okay for him

with a few seconds, he nodded and looked at his brother who was smiling wider after his previous movement "alright, Dyavolos it is then" The young deity said with a slight smile, making Thanatos grin proudly, his gaze shining at his brother, his hand travel up to Dyavolos' head and pat his head dearly, before bringing his hand back and lean backwards to rest his back against the staircase uncomfortably

"Is this the place you wanted to bring me to?" Dyavol asked his brother with the same curious expression, this time his gaze is softer than before

"Oh, right" Thanatos replied as he realized that he had forgotten about his order, chuckling embarrassingly, he got up and positioned himself to move upward on the stairs, waiting for his brother to follow his movements

Dyavol got up briefly after him, looking up at the staircase with curiosity, but he chose to stay silent, Thanatos turn back and began entering a place where it was disconnected from the earth, bonding the path between the Hades and the next land, a familiar one.

Before the young god could blink again, he suddenly appeared in a dark chamber, with only a bit of light, but he was able to see everything clearly, he was reminded from the architecture of the palace, it was similar to the place where he was created, he turn back to look for his brother but was left with a nothingness

He panicked a bit, anxiety strikes silently as Dyavol realized that he was alone, or was he tricked? but Thanatos seems genuinely trustworthy, just when he was about to ponder any further, he heard a voice from the outside of the chamber, curious, he moved foward to the outside hall to see his brother again, he noticed that Thanatos was talking to another person. Dyavol realized that Thanatos was talking to his creator, or their mother to be exact, he noted that Nyx seemed to feel uncomfortable talking to Thanatos even if he tried to appear as harmless as possible, he felt like Nyx didn't hate him but she just hate who she sees in him

The young deity was frightened when both of them began moving towards the chamber that he's staying in currently, panicked, he lean back and sit on one of the couch, pretending that he was just sitting and waiting for them. Not so long after, both primodial deities enter the chamber, glancing at the young deity softly, but the other glaze is off to somewhere else, before running it back to Dyavol who was sitting with a silent anxiety

he can feel it

he can feel the negative energy from them

guilt and dejection

but he can only identify two, as there are too much more for him to grasp his hand to, he tries to ignore all the sentiments that are spurring in their minds, because of his core that can absorb the negative vehemence around him, it's hard for him to control it due to how overwhelming the moment is

Thanatos took notice and quickly went to the point so he could get this done and not letting his brother ache any further, putting up a smile to reassure Dyavol and spoke up "I'll get straight to the point, what makes you feel like this right now is because of your core. Currently you have two cores, cosmos core and power core, your cosmos core allows you to feel every negative emotions of every creature on earth, and transfer them into the power core, your own negative emotions can also be transferred into the power core as well" Thanatos describes as he point his hand towards Dyavol's exposed core on his chest, frowning, he brings his hand back behind his back and lean back to stand beside Nyx. The mother move foward to converse with the younger god

"your flaws are your emotion sensitivity, it'll be more intense than others" The goddess spoke with a stoic expression, finishing Thanatos' sentence, her hand brought up to his power core, forcing upon it as the large amount of energy flow around it, as it slowly ascended out from his chest and rest upon her bare hand, Nyx exhaled and backed away, she turned around to step foward out of the chamber and only left the two a small glimpse of her glance

Panicked, Dyavol felt the sudden bare feeling of energy, the overall feeling was indescribable for him, but because of the sudden loss of the core, his body felt weakened. His eyelids became heavy as he had a hard time maintaining his balance

before he could bring his hand up to brace the empty space of core, his body fell foward slowly, his eyes shutting completely as his vision turned black, allowing him to dive deep into the lack of real world and physical reality, the only last thing he saw was Thanatos who quickly dashed foward and crouch slightly to expand his arms and capturing the unconscious young deity into his warm embrace. The older deity sighed and sink into the silent moment, glancing at his brother from the side with a frown.

He'll take care of him as best as he can even if the fate is restraining him to do so, it's only an elder brother's duty to do.

#fiction #story #alternate universe #greek mythology #minus dyavolos #minus #minus nyx #minus arc 1 #minus thanatos #minus hades #minus lucifer #minus mammon #minus asmodeus #minus leviathan #minus oizys #minus erebus #minus satan #minus belphegor #minus beelzebub

[bestfriend491]

Hateful Love

Okoye x Female Reader

Summary: You and Okoye have a different appraoch to love. One that tends to look like hate when being challenged. Few people see the layers under that. Only the two of you personally know how deep the love runs

Word count: 5.9k

Authors Note: Guess who's back? 🤭

Slightly Angsty, with fluff ending

Warnings: Minor Injury

Subtle Love is an unknown realm full of possibilities. A kind of love that is never talked about. Repeatedly misunderstood and misinterpreted as a lack of love. Though it's often the strongest internal builder of most healthy relationships.  

The average life consists of many forms of love. Puppy Love, Toxic Love, Struggle Love and so on. They all come with their own benefits and detriments. Usually sub- sections of the average love story. 

They all build up to become society’s standard of what love should be. 

Good Love. 

The type of love that comes with romantic grand gestures and constant compatibility. The type of love that comes with no problems. 

But Good Love isn’t real. No relationship comes without problems. And in that same breath, not all problems can be fixed with grand actions. 

It’s the subtle things that matter. The soft kisses of reassurance.. The consistency in trust and honesty. The open nature of the communication with the person, or people in which one has chosen to love. 

Subtle Love is filled with subtle things. Ones that only showed their purpose in the later stages, when families have been established, and the foundation to it all has been put down thoroughly enough to securely be able to deal with troubling situations as one unit. 

It’s the type of love that Redeh didn’t grow up with. 

Her parents, like most, strived to achieve the graceful look of Good Love. With great effort, they tried to make sure that everyone thought that they loved each other. More effort being put into the public persona than in the physical relationship itself. 

It took a toll on them both after years of pretending, resulting in a nasty divorce that lacked reasoning but was filled with resentment. 

By her tenth year of existence, Redeh routinely witnessed the two fighting about anything that their senseless heads could think of. It was a situation that no child should have had to be a part of. A type of love that a kid should never have been exposed to in the first place. 

Before the concept of being alive ever came to be fully grasped, Redeh was a mediator. The devil’s advocate that came between her parents. Never getting an explanation as to how it all fell apart. Only seeing joy followed by immediate sorrow.

It was an unending, thankless job that haunted her childhood and often affected her in her newfound adulthood. It was the one thing that Redeh feared most. Losing the spark that lit under a relationship as soon as an inconvenient problem arose. Even when she wasn’t with a single person, she feared that one thing.

Good Love.

Many people were the same. Witnessing the early signs of Good Love in childhood, never learning how to communicate meaningfully. They learned that the synchronisation that came with being in love only stayed existent as long as problems remained non-existent. And when those problems refused to continue hiding themselves, the relationship turned permanently sour. 

There were thick lines that labelled what healthy relationships consisted of. Ones that Redeh took most of her adolescence learning for her own sake. She tried to memorise all the ways that relationships could work. Every scenario where the lines would possibly be crossed and blurred and how to see other healthy relationships in a positive way.

She often struggled. The trauma that being raised by unloving parents always warping her ability to ever believe that Subtle Love could ever exist. 

The only rolemodels that she had were the movies that she watched. The ones that showed the natural, and sometimes ethically questionable love stories where all the hardships came before the couples would even get together. It taught her that that was the only way to get Good Love. Having all the problems appear at the beginning of it all. 

These movies became her solace. Her safe haven. Her expectation for how she would find her love in the coming years. 

They were also her downfall. The sole reason for her struggle in grasping how love truly worked now that she was no longer in the presence of her parents on a daily basis. 

They were an unrealistic expectation wrapped with a fake ribbon. 

For Good Love did not equate to Concrete Love. Revealing itself to be only another sub-section in the perfect love story. 

Subtle Love was what she craved, but because she had yet to discover that that was an option, she knew of only one love that came with conflict before the final storm.

Hateful Love.

Redeh stood in her all but tall form. Staring at the mirror that captured her in her new uniform. Her Dora Milaje uniform. The uniform that was of the utmost importance to her as she wore it. 

After a decade of not having a clue where life would take her, and another one where all she could think of for her future was the life she’d live as a Dora. She was finally going on her first non-group mission with only her and her successors. 

The news having come only days before; she’d crossed her fingers and hoped that she’d be the one chosen. When her name was called, excitement washed over her and she became fully ready to observe the two best Doras in action. She was  even ready to offer help wherever she could, no matter how nerve wracking it became.

Though nervous, due to not having her fellow new Doras there to help cover her mistakes if needed, she knew that she was right where she needed to be. So she walked. Out of her home and straight to the official Wakandan Hangar by the palace, where unsurprisingly she was the second person there. 

Second to General Okoye. 

“Redeh.” the General spoke, offering her greetings as she looked down at her beads, analysing something on its screen. 

“General Okoye.” she returned, failing to hide her excitement. 

Okoye cracked a smile as she saw her, remembering the first time that she was hand picked from her group to join the more experienced Doras in combat. 

She briefly told the girl what would be expected of her for the day. A threat in some unoccupied land between Wakanda and a neighbouring nation, being the main issue. The queen had offered to investigate in representation of both nations, with a small group of Wakanda's fighters. 

“We’re not fully sure what we're getting ourselves into so make sure that you stay fully aware of your surroundings out there. We won't be able to make sure that you're safe the entire time.”

“Of course. General.” she quickly said, the realisation of how real the situation was having fully set in for her. 

The General nodded, content with her answer. They continued briefly going through everything, up until Ayo showed up, just as serious as Okoye, and ready for what was coming. 

Seeing her 2 biggest inspirations looking at her with full faith and trust put a drive in her that nothing else could. They knew that she had something in her. Surprising Redeh everytime they looked at her. No one else ever had that look. Not even her own self. 

Looking around and walking towards a quinjet like she was ready to go, Okoye was stopped by Ayo, who looked utterly perturbed.

“General wait! Where’s Y/n?” she asked her. 

Redeh stood between the two, having never been aware of you coming with them. Apparently the other two had left that out of her briefing. 

Her heart raced now. You, being one of Wakanda’s best armourers, almost never physically went on missions with the Dora, only supplying them with their best weapons. 

All occasions where you were physically there were well-known missions where you and the General, an extremely powerful couple, worked together to beat the worst of people. What you two had, it was the true definition of Good Love. something she aspired to achieve.  

She watched the other two Adored Ones look at each other, Okoye struggling to make a definite statement about where you were, though she must have been with you earlier. 

Then she started, "She's actually not- " 

“-I'm here!" your voice came from a distance, as you happily made your way to them.

Redeh smiled as you crossed your arms in salute to her before happily looking at the others. 

She looked at the General’s face, hoping to see the look of utter bliss that often consumed the faces of the people who were with the ones that they loved in real life. Or at least, in the movies...

To her dismay, there was none of that. Instead came a harsh, “You're late.” from Okoye. One of almost disbelief. 

You quickly dismissed her. 

“Oh what will the world do now? Y/n was five minutes late.” You said calmly, gaining an intense eye roll from Okoye. 

The other three went on into the quinjet, leaving Redeh a bit thrown aback. That had never been in the movies. It was always a peaceful, almost surreal reunification. Not one filled with mixed emotions. And although she knew that her mission wasn’t to analyse this new rule to love, she was enthralled by it. It was so much like her parents, but also not at all like it too. It was a moment that she wanted context for, because there had to have been a before. 

By the calling of her name, she realised that she had gotten distracted, and everyone else had gone into one of the jets, and were patiently waiting for her to do the same. 

With the jet's engine's still off  for the meantime, the 4 sat on one side of its double seated benches, looking at the briefing that had been sent to all of them via Okoye. 

The tense moment picking up where it left off, you spoke about what you’d brought with you to assist in the missions. 

“I don't get how this decision was made. Taking you on a mission.” Okoye whispered, barely letting it out of her lips. It was your turn to roll your eyes, though it was more of a half-roll. 

“You said it yourself. We don’t know what we might encounter. Queen Ramonda thought it would be better to bring me if it’s more than we think it is. Now can you just read the briefing?”

Mouth hanging open, Redeh tried to keep her eyes on her screen, too confused to even attempt mediation. 

‘Something’s wrong.’ she thought, knowing how kind you both were to others. She reminded herself of all the good memories she had with you both. The two of you were far from toxic. But thinking of it, the two of you, although having a very public relationship, never talked about the true ins and outs of it. 

It was easy to forget that you were together if she didn’t constantly remind herself of the fact. Or maybe you just weren’t. 

Either way, there was tension. And it was especially evident when you made your next suggestion. 

“I’ll be in one of my aircrafts, watching out from above. If I see anything I’ll go down to help.” you said. A completely reasonable suggestion. 

"That sounds good." Redeh said, trying to show that she was actively participating. Still, she looked around for Ayo’s approval, just to make sure that she wasn’t completely off the mark. 

Ayo gave her a slight nod, not fully dedicated to the idea. Redeh raised her brows, unsure as to how this was a bad idea. That was until she saw Okoye’s face. 

"No." the General said bluntly. 

You were the only one shocked by this. "No? What do you mean no?" 

"You're not gonna be up there by yourself." 

This was a fight. Redeh knew it, and despite her better judgement telling her not to, she couldn’t stop from at least asking. 

"Are the two of you okay?" This did not defuse the situation at all, but Redeh could tell that she wasn’t fully aware of everything going on. 

"It’s my machine! You should feel honoured that I'm willing to use it."

"I feel sick, actually." 

The sound of a gasp was all that came from the otherwise silent space. Redeh covered her mouth when she realised that she was the owner of said gasp. 

Ayo stood up, making her way to the front of the jet, where she prepared to start flying. In total embarrassment, the young adult that still had her hand over her mouth followed her, sitting in a co-pilot spot, even though she knew that she wasn’t going to be helping in the flight department , her skills in the sky being her only struggle in training. 

She turned to look behind her large chair, catching a glimpse of the couple she’d left still sitting together. 

Something was said, or at least she thought it was, because Okoye swatted your hand away when you tried to hold her hand. You looked beyond hurt at that. 

The overwhelming resemblance of her parents made her turn away, directing her gaze to the pilot now. This couldn’t be the love that she constantly heard that the two had. Where were those grand gestures she knew of?

"Are they still together?" she asked, being sure that the two of you could very well have broken up. That would explain a lot. 

"Yes." Ayo said bluntly, confusion laced in her eyebrows. 

"Are they always like this or is there some big fight that I'm not aware of?" Redeh went on to ask. 

"They're usually like this." 

That answer was baffling to her. 

"But they don't hate each other."

"Bast, no. They love each other.” 

Redeh, crossed her arms, reluctant to believe those words. She was no expert but that kind of love was far from familiar to her. Not in a good context anyway. That was the ‘love’ of exes if she knew anything about it. It was Hateful Love. 

Ayo noticed the young woman struggling to understand what was truly going on, and not wanting to scare her off, didn’t tell the full truth about the small change in demeanour that you and Okoye had only moments before.

“Look. Different people show their love publicly in different ways. They’re not like that when they’re alone. Trust me. The love that they like to keep more secret is less tense.”

Turning again, she saw you closer to Okoye, reading from her screen. 

“Be quiet. Your breathing is distracting me.” the General said to you. 

“Oh, okay, yeah, I’ll just stop breathing.”

“Thank you, that’ll be very helpful.”

For a split second they looked at Redeh and she quickly turned back for the last time. 

"If you say so." she said to Ayo. 

In the 2 hours that passed coming through to the height of the mission, Redeh couldn't help but be doubtful of the validity of your relationship. Even though she knew that it was none of her concern. 

From the beginning there was constant bickering between the two of you. 

You were able to get your way in regards to your aircraft. Something that even hours later, Okoye was seemingly upset about. 

While you were in the sky, Okoye constantly said things through her earpiece that made it clear where she stood on the issue. 

When you realised that the issue that was taking place on the land was a rebellion group that was causing complete destruction, you activated the weaponry that you’d given the other 3 to help them defend themselves beyond their spears. Another thing that Okoye wasn’t too fond of. 

Though they helped, you felt like there was no other choice than to go down there yourself. You had more experience with more helpful weapons and you thought you could help more on the ground now that you knew what you were working with. 

“I'm coming down!” you said, already lowering the aircraft while you unbuckled and prepared to jump down when you were close enough. 

“No!” Okoye yelled instantaneously. 

“I have to!” 

“Y/n! Now is not the time to be trying to prove something. Stay on the plane!” Okoye yelled, as she struggled to take down the clutter of rebels on the left. Redeh and Ayo stayed silent fighting for their lives on opposite sides. 

Not even a minute later, your jet was nearly on the ground and you were practically flying out of it.

Surprisingly, you landed on your feet. The noise of it bringing the attention to you. 

Half a dozen rebels ran towards you, ready to attack. 

Just like before, you didn’t hesitate to get to work. You tried to go for them all at once ,your impressive weapon skills prompting more to want to approach you, their interest being in the ultra-powerful hydrogen blaster that worked effortlessly with the use of vibranium. 

It all went downhill as 2 more dozen rebels approached you, and you were being surrounded.

"You've got to be kidding me." Okoye said, running headfirst into the madness with Ayo and Redeh close behind.. 

The battle was a blur for the latter. The only thing resonating with her being the glares that Okoye shot at you whenever she got a split second to. 

At some point the rebels had stopped gathering around you, as they all laid on the ground, severely injured. 

Your  job was soon done, with minimal casualties. 

When Ayo went up to Redeh, and told her “well done.” She couldn't even remember what she had contributed to the event, only remembering a few significant fights with a handful of rebels. 

Regardless of memory, she was glad that she's done well in Ayo’s eyes. Her first day was more than a success

Walking back to the quinjet, her mind still worked, feeling unfulfilled in her analysis of you and Okoye. She’d easily gone to protect you when you were surrounded, though you’d constantly done things that seemingly annoyed her the entire day. And when she was done, the tension rang just as strong as at the beginning of the day. 

“I think it’s broken.” your voice rang in her head, causing her to turn her head to look at you and Okoye walking a few steps behind them. 

“Of course it is.” Okoye responded. 

She turned back again, looking at Ayo with a face that was still concerned.

All Ayo did was smile. Smile like she knew something that nobody else did. 

And she did. She knew that the entire day's events were all symbols of love. Subtle Love. 

Subtle love is a form of love that is never talked about. The feelings that surround it often fully authentic. Not artificially created for the approval of others. 

Just like a lot of hate, it often lives unconfronted. Whether known or not, it stays under the wraps, softly undisturbed. 

It’s the kind of love that is open to all. Fully welcoming and accommodating. The kind that holds a safe space where full transparency and vulnerability can be openly expressed without the fear of judgement. 

It’s the major things expressed in small ways. The “love” proclamations. The physical and emotional holding of one’s partner. The tears of confession. The late night conversations. All happening in a single moment that only those present get to and want to share. 

It is the kind of love that outsiders often can never decipher, but it is one of the closest forms of Concrete Love.

It’s not the kind of love that Okoye or you grew up in. The paths leading up to your relationship having many different examples of love and the dynamics that came with it. There was good and bad with all of them, as they showed you what you wanted and needed and also what you wanted to be kept far away from you. 

Subtle love only came into the picture when the two of you collided, When the two of you realised that the only people you wanted were each other and when you realised that that meant dealing with every hurdle that you faced individually, together. 

It came into the picture when you realised that Okoye had many things to say to you about how she felt, but struggled to get it out in the presence of others or with great gifts that were

-other than materialy- quite useless . 

It came into the picture when Okoye realised that around others you were open and friendly but often put their feelings above your own and you needed help stopping yourself before it went too far. 

It helped the two of you navigate through the first 2 years of being together and after the two of you became a known couple, it only became needed more. 

The fun part about it was that there was no pressure to constantly implement it, but the comfort of having it made your relationship feel much more in sync. 

Almost completely unspoken words were quickly decoded when you were in public, and both of you slowly stopped hesitating to ask for help or  space, knowing that with that you could fully let go of the expectations that people brought with them for your relationship because of the love you had.  

It made it easy to have completely different conversations behind closed doors, while also quietly continuing those words as the day went on without people being easily able to know exactly what was being said and what was meant. 

This love carried weight in its natural existence, but it also made every moment meaningful. 

Meaningful enough to be able to bicker in public without heavy words accidently being thrown out where all eyes could see. 

It was the perfect grounds to safe communication, and to getting the best out of a relationship.

Subtle Love often got mistaken for Hateful Love. But it was always quite the contrary. 

Hours before the mission. 

Heavy weighted material closed off the access to cool air to your body as you awoke from  soft noise. 

You felt instant warmth from this material, like the atmosphere was giving you a soft hug. Attempting to lull you back to sleep.

Feeling hands gently placing themselves around you, you opened your eyes.

Irises of warm brown stared back at you, more aware that you were awake than aware that you were staring back at them. They brought a welcoming hello with them. A silent serenade. 

They were owned by the same body that possessed the arms that wrapped around you.

Okoye. 

“Morning, my love.” came the words from the lips that you’d unconsciously been staring at. 

No words came out of yours. Your mind still fully absorbing her presence, and the gift that it was. 

She’d placed a previously fallen blanket on you; you’d come to realise. Tucking you in before she left to tend to her General duties. 

You gently lifted your arms out of the tight hold that she’s put them in. 

Feeling warm enough knowing that she was there with you, you proceeded to move the rest of your body out of the blanket's grip, eventually lifting your body up to sit. 

Stable in your position, you pulled her towards you. Your eyes and hers met and locked, refusing to let go of each other. All you could do was smile, the peace that you felt bringing joy with it every time. 

Aeons passed before another word was spoken. 

“You have to go?” you asked, though you knew the answer already. 

“Mhm,” Okoye responded, bringing you into an embrace now that you were fully aware of what was happening. 

“You smell good.” 

She laughed, turning to kiss your forehead, before looking at you directly again. 

“I’ll be gone for a while. You should sleep in. You looked really tired yesterday.” she said.

You gazed at her in question. “I should sleep in?” 

She nodded, clearly oblivious to the information that  both you knew and her clearly knew too. 

“Okoye…” you started, making sure that she didn’t try to avoid your gaze at you. She looked at you, guilt written all over her face. 

“Yes.”

“Are you trying to make me late?” 

“Ini (What?)!” she lied through her lips but the rest of her face gave her away. 

“Ujaxoka (You’re lying.)" you said through a grin, more of a funny statement than an accusation.

She performed her best fake gasp, “Njani ( How?)” 

You laughed, in complete disbelief that her act was still continuing. She joined in, knowing that she’d been caught but happy to entertain you. 

“I already got the call from Queen Ramonda, Okoye.” you said, shifting over to allow her room to lay with you in bed. 

She opted to lay on your legs, her face looking directly up at you while you played with her hands.

A heavy sigh left her system and the mini suns that you knew as her eyes grew darker than usual. 

“Why don’t you want me to go?” you asked. Now avoiding direct eye contact because that would make it harder for her to want to tell you. 

“I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“My entire job consists of working with weapons. I’m always in danger of getting hurt.” you tried to reason. 

“I know,” she sighed, lacing your hand into hers properly before kissing it, “But it’s different when you’re just making weapons by yourself. I don’t want you fighting and getting hurt.”

Then she added, “You get reckless sometimes.”

“I’ll be safer this time.” 

“You won’t” 

“I will!” 

“You won’t, Y/n. You say you will every time but when we get there you’ll lose yourself in the battle and forget that you ever said that.” 

You stayed quiet, knowing that she was right. You did have a bad track record of putting yourself in situations that were dangerous despite promising not to. 

Still in your train of thought, Okoye began to get up. 

“I’ll tell everyone that you’re sick and then you'll be able to sleep in.” 

She looked at you with pleading eyes. Your lack of response leaving a big question in the room. 

She couldn’t wait for an answer, but gave you a kiss on the lips, promising not to be too upset if you chose to go after her. 

“Okay,” you said into the open, unaware that she had heard you.

Waiting a while before getting ready, you debated whether you should've texted her saying that you were coming, but eventually settled on just showing up and dealing with the consequences later. 

When you arrived with a smile wrapped around your face, you saw her grow tense. 

“You’re late.” she said bluntly. Not wanting to confront the matter in front of Ayo, and especially not in front of the new Dora that was to accompany the three of you. 

You went for a childish dig, claiming that five minutes wasn’t much in any case.

Though she looked mad, you still saw the hurt that shone through her eyes. Not tears, but a defeated lowering of her gaze telling you all that you needed to know. 

Her words came off more harsh than your usual banter did, and you knew that a line was crossed. 

“I’m sorry.” you mouthed to her, pleading for her to accept it or at least take it in. You really were, but you also wanted to keep her safe. And with the direct request of attendance coming from the queen herself, it was only right for you to show up and do your job.

Okoye knew this. She wasn’t new to what your job entailed, but she sure wished you could be kept away from all the possible danger. She gave you a side nod, acknowledging your words but showing that she was still a bit unsettled and maybe even upset by the dishonesty. 

As you went onto the jet, and the young woman that was to join you stayed staring into the open, you figured she was going through her own thing. 

Next came the whisper. “I don't get how this decision was made. Taking you on a mission.” she breathed out. 

She was in panic mode and there was nothing you could do to stop it. It was directed towards herself more than at you but you felt the need to try to reassure her that everything was going to be okay. 

“Sthandwa sam.” you whispered more effectively than she had. 

“You said it yourself. We don’t know what we might encounter. Queen Ramonda thought it would be better to bring me if it’s more than we think it is. Now can you just read the briefing?” The last part was your plea to her. One that would hopefully get you somewhere in the long day. Or at least off the ground. 

She continued at your request, a worried expression escaping her every time she saw your name written with an instruction to do anything at all. 

Seeing this worry, you knew it was a bad idea to suggest flying alone. 

“No.” she said. 

“What do you mean no?” you knew exactly what she meant. You’d made a promise, and breaking that a couple hours after its creation wouldn’t make her feel like she could trust you with things like that. 

When Redeh asked if the two of you were okay, you admittedly let your tongue slip. 

"It’s my machine! You should feel honoured that I'm willing to use it."

"I feel sick, actually." 

A gasp was let out and the two dora that sat next to you left for the front of the jet, leaving you to talk. 

“Okoye, I-” you started. 

You went for her hand, and she was quick to swat it away, a reflex. Immediately she linked legs with you -a way for her to show that she wanted you to stay close. and tried to get herself to calm down. 

“I’m sorry. I’m just worried.”

“I know. I’m sorry for lying about not coming.”

“I‘ll be safe, I promise.” you finished. 

“And I’ll be there when you change your mind.” you both laughed at this, knowing that that was the more realistic plan. 

The rest of the trip to your destination was just filled with banter.

“Be quiet. Your breathing is distracting me.” she said, causing you to roll your eyes. 

“Oh, okay, yeah, I’ll just stop breathing.” 

“Thank you, that’ll be very helpful.”

Your gaze went back to Redeh’s seat where she watched the encounter in dismay. 

Locking eyes with Okoye, you both couldn’t help but start chuckling at the clear misunderstanding. 

“She’s gonna think we hate each other.” Okoye said, finally taking your hand now that things were back to normal. 

“Most people already think that. I’m sure a lot of them think we called it quits a while ago.” 

She agreed, realising that besides Ayo, most people refrained from mentioning you to Okoye or her to you. Assuming that the two of you were no longer an item. 

You never confronted them on their assumptions, enjoying the fewer questions that came in about your relationship. 

When you saw the rebels approaching from all ends of the land, you had to think quickly. 

Your banter with Okoye stopped and you became serious, noting that you didn’t have many options to choose from. If you shot from above they’d target your plane and wreck it, putting you at risk of crashing. 

You had to help from the ground, much to Okoye’s displeasure. 

“I’m gonna jump down there!” you said through your earpiece 

“What! No!” your love spoke almost the second you finished saying it. 

“I have to!”

“No, you don’t!” 

“Okay fine. I want to do it.“ 

“Y/n stay in the-” before she could finish, you were on the ground and attracting the rebels attention. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” you heard as you became trapped in a circle of rebels ready to fight you. 

In true Y/n fashion, you charged for them all, the cause and effect being a sharp fall and a nearly irreversible demise. 

Okoye was by your side alongside the others, and although the “I told you not to jump.” was on the tip of her tongue, she refrained. Her instinctive need to protect you coming before her need to be right. 

When it was all over, you made your way to her. 

Slowly, you walked to the jet with her nudging; her shoulder with your own once you caught up to her. 

"See. Told you I would be safe." 

"I can see you limping." she looked down at your left foot, where she could clearly see you trying not to put weight on it. 

You relented, getting rid of your act and limping more consistently. The pain was excruciating. 

“I think it’s broken.” 

Okoye stopped dead in her tracks. "Of course it is." 

Inspecting your face for any indication that you were overreacting. When she couldn't find any, she was quick to lift you up bridal style, not wanting any pressure being placed on the offending ankle. 

You watched her walking with you, smiling up at her. 

“You look rather pleased with yourself.”

"I am." you continued to smile.

When Redeh looked back to see you being carried by Okoye, with a bright smile on your face, she felt a sigh of relief. Not at your injury, but at how content the both of you looked in your moment of chaos. 

You weren’t like her parents after all. Or like any couple she’s ever seen. After seeing you at your worst (though she knew far worse had most-likely happened before), she’d expected one of you to stop trying, or stay angry forever. She didn’t expect to see organised disruption.

Even as you flew back to the city, and Okoye determined that you had indeed broken a part of your ankle. It was calm. There was synchronisation even when there were problems. 

You threw in your jokes here and there, “Who could have predicted that?” Okoye rolling her eyes at you. 

It was reassuring, seeing how subtle the obvious love could be. How well it worked for the two of you. How almost therapeutic it was. 

Her ideas of love always came in pictures of no complication at all, but seeing the smiles plastered on your faces made her feel just as excited as any grand gesture she’d ever seen would have.. 

Looking at Ayo she smiled for the first real time that entire day. “They’re good for each other.” 

Her successor looked at her fondly. “They are.”

And on the other side of the Quinjet, where you laid with your foot supported upright for the trip back, you gazed up at your favourite 2 things again. 

Your suns. Warm and full of life. Staring down at you. They made your pain go away -even if only theoretically-.

They told you everything you needed to know about their owner. They exposed every soft spot that she had for you. They were your symbol of subtlety. 

“I love you.” you said to the woman who held you. 

“I love you more.” she planted a peck on your forehead, before laying her head against the back of her seat, closing those eyes for a while. 

#black panther #okoye x reader #wakanda forever #black panther2 #general okoye #okoye one shot #okoye #okoye x fem reader #black panther okoye #dora milaje #midnight angels #okoye imagine #okoye angst #okoye fluff

[our-transmasculine-experience]

Sorry this is a bit of rant, but I hate toxic masculinity and gender norms so so so much because now I'm subscribing to them, and I cannot stop myself. Sometimes I want to wear a dress, but if I do, or even so much as think about it, my body shudders or I want to vomit. Because the idea of being seen as feminine even in the slightest way physically hurts me, and its all because of the way I was raised. I'm in an extremely conservative household, and there is so much toxic masculinity. My brother has fucking curls for gods sake, he is a cis man and my dad makes remarks about how its gay (otherwise sayings its feminine) to take care of his curls!

Now me being a closeted trans guy, every time I hear my dad talking to my brothers, or talking to other men when women are around there is such a stark line between the two groups. My dad and his friends and my brothers are MANLY MEN AND WOMAN CANNOT BE IN THE MEN GROUP while the women around me kind of drag me into the stereotypical womanly position and giggle and joke around and there's so much internalised misogyny. I had my mother the other day berate me for not shaving my own damn legs, her big point was that it was 'unhygienic' even though my dad is covered in hair. Then the real point came out, apparently not shaving my legs makes me look like a lesbian!

It sucks man, it just sucks. I love my brother though because even though he also as equally as transphobic as them, he doesn't subscribe to their weird toxic masculinity and honestly he's the closest I'll ever come to being out of the closest.

I used to think my sister might be in the closest but as we get older and she conforms more and more to my parents ideologies I realise I was just fooling myself. And I hate being like this, because my family are good people in general and their not unkind to me, or treat me poorly, they treat me really well, I'm really well off and I'm grateful to them. But if I ever came out, I would be cut from this family so quick it would make my head spin.

Being around all these stereotypes just feeds my insecurities because sometimes when I listen to the things the men around me say I know its so misogynistic and I know I should strive to be better than that, but I can't help but really want to fit in with them because all I want to be seen is as a boy. But I never will be. I really really fucking hate it (excuse the language) when the women in my family try to pull me into their side. I hate that my older brothers just see me as my dad's daughter from his second marriage, I love them so much and I just want to be friends with them but I'll never get that, my younger brother will though BECAUSE HE'S A CIS MAN!

Its selfish, I'm really selfish for thinking like this, because I live really really well, I have parents who love me even its not for who I actually am, and we have money. Seeing how bad others are living compared to me and then complaining about my household is selfish I know. I just wish these stereotypes would go away, I wish I wasn't trans, I wish I was a normal girl, but I'm not, I'm a boy, I'll never be a girl and it's the worst thing in the world. It doesn't help either that I'm bisexual and got outed by my so-called best friend and had to pretend it was just a phase that I grew out of. I want to scream, but I can't, and I won't. Because if I ever want to succeed in this world, I need my family's support.

I hate this, because I do love my father and my mother and my brothers. I just know they only love the girl they see. That's what I hate. My mother keeps telling me to dress like a girl, to be a normal girl, and honestly her acknowledging that I am not like your average female is the closest I'll ever get with her acknowledging that I'm trans. But I still love them, I love them so much, please don't think that they are bad people because they really aren't. I just cannot fucking stand how they continue to think that trans people aren't really trans or that being trans is 'demonic' its screwing with my head. I know they would never utter a bad word against a gay or trans person they met in real life but god the things they say when the curtains close.

Not to mention that all the stereotypes have ruined having children for me. I want children, I want to get married, but I can't! I can't get married! I can't have children because all I can think about is how that is the 'WOMAN'S POSITION' EVEN THOUGH ITS NOT! But if I ever have kids or get married, I will be shoved right into the 'I told you so' 'You're a woman!' I will be put in the feminine box, and I hate it! I will just be another woman who got married to a guy that pretends to be nice in public but is not so nice at best and full on abusive at worst behind the scenes which seems to be the constant with every woman I know. God forbid I ever married a woman!

Sorry that this was long, I really needed to rant. I'm honestly so grateful that the internet exists because I can't be out in real life, but I can be out online, even if no one actually knows who I am. Thank you for listening have a great day! I love your page so much it brings me so much comfort and joy!

i would get tf out of that environment as soon as you can. never apologize for feeling unhappy with that situation because most people would be, too. that sounds horrible, and i’m really really sorry that you have to go through that.

best of luck, brother.

#transgender #lgbt #transmasc #lgbtq #queer #trans #ftm #trans guy #trans boy #trans man

[banzaitaka]

Autumn Troupe‘s Kisses

Banri Settsu, Juza Hyodo, Taichi Nanao, Omi Fushimi, Sakyo Furuichi x gn! reader

Continuing this series because they all deserve love

Spring Troupe‘s Kisses

Summer Troupe‘s Kisses

Banri Settsu…

…kisses mainly to tease and to claim. You‘re reactions to his sudden kisses are just too good to miss out on. Wether it‘s a simple gasp, a squeak, or one of your cute flushed faces; he loves them all. Don‘t pretend to be upset, he‘ll use it against you one way or another. That smug bastard. In addition, he‘s somewhat of a wholesome possessive. He doesn‘t actually get jealous and tries to keep you all to himself in a toxic way. He does, again, as a teasing way. Give him a little smack and watch his playful side crumble with his laugh, leaving a genuine smile on his lips, as he gazes at you as if you were the only light he‘s ever seen.

.

Juza Hyodo…

…kisses with much hesitancy. If it was anyone else in his position, he‘d probably say something like „How much can ya do wrong in a kiss anyways?“, but it is him in his position…Suddenly he wonders if he could hurt you if he puts too much pressure on your lips. As if that would ever be physically possible with how he melts into a puddle during a kiss. He turns completely into mush, mumbling out a little „thanks“ for no other reason than not knowing what else to say.

.

Taichi Nanao…

…kisses with accidental force. Excitement and endless nervousness come together to overload the poor boy. He‘s trying his best to stay leveled, but more often than not you two end up bumping into each other. It‘s not painful or uncomfortable, just enough to notice.

.

Omi Fushimi…

…kisses you casually, and with a warmth and softness that makes you fall for him once again. This gentle giant is just filled with unconditional love and admiration for you, and it shows in absolutely everything he does for you, kisses are no exception. As much as he‘d love to capture every kiss you share in a photograph, he much rather captures them in his mind and heart instead.

.

Sakyo Furuichi…

…kisses you in moments of passion and emotion. As a yakuza, he has to follow certain protocol to keep up appearances, safe to say it has molded into his personality over those many years. Thus, physical touch was not something he was that well acquainted with. Every time your lips meet his, it‘s like everything inside of him explodes in a gigantic firework. It leaves him speechless for just a moment, before he manages to regain his posture. With every kiss, he hopes he can make you feel just as incredibly loved as you him.

#x reader #x gn reader #a3 #a3 x reader #a3 x gn reader #sakyo furuichi #sakyo furuichi x reader #sakyo furuichi x gn reader #omi fushimi #omi fushimi x reader #omi fushimi x gn reader #taichi nnao #taichi nanao x reader #taichi nanao x gn reader #juza hyodo #juza hyodo x reader #juza hyodo x gn reader #banri settsu #banri settsu x reader #banri settsu x gn reader

[strwberri-milk]

I Know You'll Always Love Me (And I Wish It'd Be Enough)

Ex!Kaeya x AFAB!Reader || Smut, Angst no Comf || 2 825 words

additional tags: vaginal sex, blowjobs, mildly toxic relationship (you and kaeya are broken up but regularly fuck and its not good for either of you)

Forever was a promise that you made to him. You just didn't realise how much this version of forever could hurt.

a/n: idk why but theres smth about this,,,the mutual pining, the hurt, the "i love you so much and thats why im letting you go" and anyway this is kaeyas bday fic bc if i cant be happy on mine neither can he /lh there is a chance i write a second part bc i like happy endings but,,,,,

A buzz interrupts your nightly routine, your breath caught in your throat as you know exactly what that means. 

The moon is high in the sky, slipping through your curtains to land on your bedside table. Your phone is alight with a message, another buzz reminding you that someone on the other end expects an answer. It isn’t until your phone is in your hand and you’re reading the text that you realise you’re already texting back, that lump in your throat refusing to go. 

As soon as the text sends you know you’ve only got a short amount of time to prepare, that churning in your stomach both anxiousness and excitement. You know how much it’ll hurt to go through with this, to let him back in even for this brief encounter but you need him here, even if it’s just to pretend that things are the same and nothing’s changed. 

The doorbell doesn’t even ring, the only word of warning you get is a turning of the knob as you remind yourself for the nth time you need to take his key back. You turn to the door of your bedroom, immediately engulfed in a familiar warmth you wish you could forget. His kisses are desperate against your skin, nails digging into your body as his heavy breathing drowns out your other thoughts. 

“Kaeya,” you gasp against his lips, letting him swallow your moans as he only gets more frantic. 

Kaeye doesn’t say anything, only pushing you down onto your sheets. Immediately, his grip brings your legs to wrap around his waist, pulling your core to rub up against his. Your hands push against his chest with a whimper, making him stop and look at you. His eye is unfocused, evidence of his arousal beginning to poke against your wettening entrance.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asks, already beginning to withdraw from your body. 

“No!” you cry out, pulling him back on top of you. 

You miss him so much, wanting nothing more than for him to look at you the way he used to. This is the only way you’ll get him now, and you’re disgusted with yourself for it. You can only have him under the cover of night, blanketed by desire at his behest. 

But you know there’s no way you can say no to him. 

“Then what’s wrong?” 

There’s no warmth in his voice, nothing like the man you used to know. Instead, there’s just a stranger in his body, someone who’s been long done with you but the body is so comforting you need it to take you. You shake your head and pull him back down, slotting your lips together. 

“I just wanted to breathe a bit,” you lie easily, knowing by the way his fingers twitched that he didn’t believe you. 

He only shakes his head before continuing, positioning your body to sit better against his lap as he begins to rut against your body. You can feel his erection growing against you, reaching down to touch him only to have your hand swatted away. 

“Don’t worry about me,” he says in a way that could almost be seen as caring. “If I want you to be ready then I’ll have to focus on you before myself.” 

Even now he was still giving to you, the sick and twisted irony being that he took everything from you when he left. That, or he just didn’t want to let himself melt into your arms to keep this cordial distance between you two. Whatever the answer is, you decide it doesn’t matter as much as his fingers against your wet slit does, biting your bottom lip as he begins to tease you. 

“I missed this,” he whispers almost reverentially, slowly beginning to sound more like the man you used to know. 

You keen into his touch, letting him do with you as he wishes, totally unaware of what’s going on in his mind. 

Kaeya’s quickly becoming obsessed with your body once again, loving the way he fits into his so smoothly. He knows everything that makes you feel good, how you’ll squeeze so tightly around his fingers if he crooks them up a certain way or even just kisses you with just the right amount of pressure. Your breath against his collar drives him insane in a way he thinks you’ll never know and imperceptibly, his grip around your body tightens. 

He doesn’t need to hear your noises to know that he’s right where you need him to be, only mildly listening just in case he hurts you. All of what he does is purely muscle memory, his mind never able to fully wean itself off of you during the countless hours he spends alone. The only thing he can do to make the ringing in his ears stop is to kiss you like this, hold you like this, pull his fingers out of your pussy to take your bottoms off for you like this. 

You get the sense that he’s moving faster than he normally would. Maybe he’s busy in the morning, or perhaps he has someone else he’s wanting to see. The thought makes you pause, tears beginning to spring to your eyes. 

In an instant, you feel yourself being pulled up and into his lap. Kaeya sits himself against the headrest of your bed, putting your face in the junction between his shoulder and jaw. You’re acutely aware of the fact that you won’t be able to look at him like this, wanting nothing more than to make him see what he’s putting you through but knowing that if he wants to avoid it he will. He doesn’t say much as you cry silently, only threading his fingers through your hair. 

Normally, the rise and fall of his chest would soothe you but now you can’t feel anything but anger. Anger at him, at some imaginary date he has, at the fact that you somehow managed to let him slip through your fingers as though he meant nothing when it was the furthest thing from the truth. You don’t know if he knows how much you love him, how much you feel like you need him. 

Instead, he just keeps you close against his body, sighing as you cry into him. After a few minutes he clears his throat. 

“Do you want me to leave?” 

“Stay,” you mumble, bringing your hand down to his crotch. 

He’s gotten soft but you know it’ll take you no time to get him back to his previous hardness. You crawl out of his lap, watching his expression carefully. When he shows no sign of saying no to you, you begin to palm at him before pulling him out of his pants, taking his hiss of satisfaction in stride when he throws his head back against the wood. 

“Just until we’re done. Just stay until then, then you can go,” you convince him, letting his fingers tangle themselves back into your hair. 

Your pace is slow, soothing his racing thoughts and pounding heart as you bob up and down on his length. Every move you make is practiced, down to the way you swallow around his thick girth to the teasing laps of your tongue when you pull off of him at the ache beginning to form at your jaw. You take pride in the way his hips buck into your mouth and let him guide your pace soon afterwards, looking up at him through your lashes. 

Kaeya wishes he could look away but you’re the picture of sin like this, mouth drooling over his shaft and balls. You look like there’s nowhere you’d rather be but between his thighs. His dick twitches with each descent your mouth makes, savouring the slight gagging noises you make against him. 

“Fuck - I’m gonna cum,” he warns, words turning into moans as you take him down your throat all at once. 

The noises that come from your mouth just get lewder, his eyes rolling into the back of his head at the sight of your hand sneaking between your thighs to touch yourself at his groans. He wishes it were him between your legs, hard dick thrusting roughly into your spent hole that he knows he needs more and more of. He wants nothing more than to rut into you like an animal, neglect all of his needs if it means you’ll whine his name so prettily it makes his head spin. The thought of it makes him cum deep down your throat, his voice almost drowning out the sound of you choking on his cum. He continues to lazily thrust into your mouth, the aftershocks of his orgasm making his muscles twitch. 

You sit up when he’s done, wiping the corner of your mouth and licking off the cum that comes off it with a cheeky grin, making his heart skip a beat. He huffs slightly, removing his pants and you know what that means. 

Without any prompting from him you turn around and rest your head on your forearms, arching your back and spreading your thighs so his hungry eye can take in your soaked arousal. You didn’t get to cum earlier, not properly anyway. The look on his face as he was fingering you was too distracting to focus on the way he felt, ruining any true sense of pleasure you could have derived from it. Besides, this way you don’t have to see him and he doesn’t have to see you. You know that’s why he likes it this way, at least that’s why he likes it now. 

Before, he was obsessed with feeling you up, wanting to watch your ass jiggle as he pulled you onto his cock. If you really got him riled up he’d pull you up, pull his arms through and under your knees as he repeatedly fucked up into you while whispering sweet nothings into your ear. It was intimate, warm. It made you feel loved. 

Now, it was a way for him to use you without seeing you. A way to continue building that wall up between you two and you didn’t mind. If it meant that just for a second you could pretend he was looking at you like you were the greatest thing he could have then you would take it. You would take all of him over and over again if it meant you got to hang onto your delusions. 

“Now, what are you doing like that? Turn around so I can see you,” he purrs, taking you by surprise. 

You remain still, unsure of what to do. He sighs, grabbing you by your hips and turning your body over. Sprawled out on your back like this he gives you no room to escape his body, teasing his cock between your pussy lips with a self satisfied smirk. 

“Well, look who’s ready for me. I can fuck you, can’t I?” he asks cockily. 

Your nod grants him entrance, arching your back as the delicious stretch of his cock entering your body makes your mind numb. 

This. This is what you’ve missed. 

The look on his face of rapture as he feels you squeeze around him, the way he kisses you like he loves you, the way he can’t breathe without moaning into your skin, the way his hips slowly thrust into you as he waits for you to adjust to his size. All of it makes even more tears spring to your face but this time he doesn’t stop. 

Instead, he just brushes his fingers against your eyes. Tenderly, your tears are wiped away and you can’t help but keen more into his touch as you grow even more desperate for him to touch you more. You need more of this intimacy you know he can give you, whining into his lips as he kisses you to keep you quiet. 

“Kaeya, Kaeya – please don’t tease me like this,” you pant against him, bucking your hips to tell him to move faster. 

“Come on, you really think I’m that easy?” comes his smooth response. 

Your nails dig into the sheets, not knowing if he’ll let you hold him. It’s all you can do not to mark his body, terrified that one misstep would lead to him cutting you out of his life entirely. That’s something you don’t want to gamble with, knowing that once this transactional relationship is done you’ll become nothing but a mere shell of yourself. 

All your efforts are in vain when he wraps his arms around your body, holding you tight against his chest. You cling onto him like he’s your lifeline and as far as you’re concerned he is. He doesn’t brush off your touch this time, letting your nails scratch down his back when his pace picks up. The grinding of his hips against your body in this position stimulates every part of you that he reaches, only making your noises become that much more desperate. 

Your senses are filled with him, pleasure mixing with an intense sadness that this will soon be over. That soon enough he’ll be gone and the only thing that will be left to warm your sheets is a memory of him that only cares when it suits him. As your focus wanes, his intensifies, refusing to let you slip away. 

He pins you back down against the bed, pulling your hands off of him just to thread your fingers together and keep them above your head. It forces you to look at him as he fucks you, navy locks falling down to frame his handsome features as he starts to ram into you. His dick brings you back to the present and you’re no longer holding back any of your noises. You know your voice is going to go hoarse with the way you’re screaming for him but you don’t know anything else when your brain is muddled like this, letting him slot his lips between yours when you cum around him. 

Kaeya feels you clench around him, pretending that the tears on your face don’t bother him as much as they actually do. It’s the only reason he can think of to hold back from the pleasure that threatens to overtake him, knowing that once he cums it’ll all be over. That he has no reason to stay here anymore, that for your own sake he needs to leave. It doesn’t matter that he’s clearly saying the right things for you, thrilled at the way your body reacts to his voice and if it weren’t for his own actions he’d be able to take his time and tease you to his heart’s content. 

Instead, he’s rutting into you like a wild animal, burying his moans into your neck as you cum with cries of his name. There’s little room for him to focus on those mundane feelings, the one’s he can reflect on in the comfort of his cold bed. Now, he can focus on you, focus on the way his body needs you, the release that he’s been craving all day satiated as he cums deep inside of you. Your breathless noises make his cock twitch wanting to indulge in you over and over again despite knowing he won’t. 

The encounter comes to an end, the unspoken rule between the two of you ever since your explosive fight coming into effect. Neither person says anything they’ll regret. Neither person asks for the other to stay. 

He wordlessly cleans the two of you off, finishing with a soft kiss to your lips. You’ve grown to expect it now, unsure if it’s because he’s so used to showering you with aftercare or because it’s a fissure of his facade. You don’t let him go as soon as he pulls back, instead chasing his lips to deepen the kiss. When he responds in kind you’re shocked, but you want to milk it for as much as you can, closing your eyes as you cup his face in your hands. 

When you both part to breathe you take a minute to just look at him, melting into his being and speaking without thinking. 

“I love you.” 

The three words hang heavily in the air, dread flooding your chest as you try to figure out how to remedy the situation. He sighs in your panic, shaking his head and pulling back from you. The tears spring to your eyes again and you wish that you could do something rather than just cry as he gets dressed and ready to go. You watch as he’s about to walk through the door, turning back just to glance at you. 

“I know you do.” 

And with that he’s gone, every trace that he was once here taken with him again. 

And with that, you collapse into yourself again, knowing that you’ll do anything if it means seeing him again, just for a minute. 

#kaeya x reader #kaeya smut #kaeya alberich x reader #genshin x reader #genshin smut

[anxresi]

Okay, stop what you’re doing and watch this RIGHT NOW.

Are you telling me THIS Chloe, the genuinely remorseful girl ready to burst into tears in front of her idol, THIS Chloe who confesses to feeling ‘useless’ on a regular basis without a single trace of dishonesty, THIS Chloe, who confides it’s not even Marinette that’s her main problem, it’s her own lack of self-worth that makes her lash out at others…

…Can be the same sociopathic monster we see in S4-S5?

Because if you do, I’d go and get my eyes tested.

Just viewing this clip now brought it all home to me. How much they’ve ruined Chloe’s character, by stripping away the few layers she had to reduce her to this wretched caricature we see today.

To reset ALL her growth in one fell swoop and now pretending it never happened. To think what we could’ve got instead of this Mary Sue wannabe Zoe turning up…

…A fascinating character study of a troubled girl with major issues blossoming into a true hero, (or anti-hero, if you prefer) and the impact her new personality and outlook has on the people around her.

Nope, let’s ditch all that in favor of this perfect ‘long list sibling’ turning up out of nowhere, and inheriting everything that Chloe could’ve had after a lengthy redemption arc (true friends, a healthier relationship with her father, a permanent position as Queen Bee) all in the most lazy two-parter ever conceived.

After all, why ‘waste’ seasons worth of gradual development on an established character, when you can pluck one out of the great blue yonder as the finished article? So much more satisfying from a storytelling perspective, right??

Oh, and it forever tarnished my view of Ladybug too, that the solution for Chloe’s problem was to encourage her to be even nastier and more horrible so she could ‘bond’ with the main perpetrator of her feeling of inadequacy and self-loathing for years e.g her own mother.

Yes, let’s continue the endless cycle of toxicity and abuse because it’s so much easier than giving a traumatized teenager in need proper help and support.

This is why I laughed out loud when Miss Bustier announced in the leaks for S5 (not really a spoiler) that ‘everyone had tried to help Chloe’.

Really? Since when?! I must’ve missed an entire season of the show where this happened… (considering the quality of the writing, perhaps this isn’t a bad thing).

Anyway, thanks Ladybug. Some ‘hero’.

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous #chloe bourgeois #ladybug #ml salt #ml #queen bee #marinette dupain-cheng #disney #zag #chloe

[drdemonprince]

fuck yeah ok lets get into it. i tend to be irresistibly drawn towards whatever i think would get the most genuine disgust out of people i know irl, which is hard bc my friends are all also freaky transsexuals who are into edgeplay. so i got creative. this one is too involved to roleplay and probably crosses a lot of lines for a lot of people but i do love talking about it. also somewhat inspired by that movie "may december".

the concept is to find a transfem in a vulnerable position, probably newly transitioned, probably younger than me, and support her and date her and get her dependent on me and comfy with me. then i tell her im into cnc & i want her to top. once we try it out the first time i flip on her. i tell her she crossed my boundaries in a major way on purpose and that shes a rapist and a predator. once shes apologizing to me for nothing i forgive her and take her back. then it gets meaner. i initiate sex with her but stop when she gets close to orgasm. tell her i dont trust her to control herself and im too traumatized to continue. keep doing this until i get her pent up and really believing shes a monster who cant help herself. until she breaks and forces herself on me for real. of course i stopped taking birth control & didnt tell her, but pretend i did and act horrified that she came inside me. when i get pregnant i say i want to keep it and make her beg me not to, just so i can guilt her over that later. then i can blackmail her, keep her and our friends thinking shes the one abusing me, and tell her ill ruin her life if she tries to leaves me. so i can have a cute little pet for ever and ever :)

wowwwwwee you are dastardly anon. May December toxic trans masc edition. you should definitely write some fics! and tag them to hell and back. this reminds me of a lot of the forced detransition cnc kink stuff in terms of what a lightning rod it can be but also how immensely hot it can be because it is a subject that is so triggering and charged.

[paintedvanilla]

Hi! Sorry if you’ve already answered this, but what inspired your takes on Jack’s extended family in your fics?

hi!! sorry it took me so long to answer this ask, i was going to wait to answer it until i finished my most recent fic, but then i posted that and i just. didn't have the energy. so!! hi!!

i don't really have a specific source of inspiration for my choices about the narrator's extended family. i've always enjoyed writing ensemble stuff. i think my decisions for the narrator's family dynamics were based on my own interpretations of his characterization and influenced by my own biases and probably other various subconscious trains of thought happening in my brain. but nevertheless here's a breakdown of each decision!!

his mother: the narrator was raised by a single mom from the age of six onward, that much is obvious from the source material. i mostly work off of the film, because i've watched it so many times its details are more readily available for me to recall. i get the sense that his mom is no nonsense but also a bit of a pushover when she doesn't feel like putting up a fight, which is often. she was not the most attentive but that's not entirely fair to say because she was a single mom. i think the narrator's family was quite poor growing up, especially once his dad left, and she was working to support him and his sister. i think she's relatively soft spoken and quite reserved.

his father: obviously for this one i had way more of a base to work with, just based on the way the narrator talks about his dad in the film and the book. he's an asshole. he doesn't really give a fuck about the narrator. i do believe the narrator and his sister were this man's first kids. he did not marry their mother. he's never married any of the women he gets involved with. i think he's a scumbag. the narrator is, actually, genuinely, his only son. all his other kids are girls, which i think plays a huge factor in when he skips town. it has to do both with when the woman he's involved with starts to become boring to him, and when the oldest daughter he's fathered from this particular woman starts to like. become conscious and develop a personality. The whole:

"Often father and daughter look down on mother (woman) together. They exchange meaningful glances when she misses a point. They agree that she is not bright as they are, cannot reason as they do. This collusion does not save the daughter from the mother’s fate."

the sister: i chose for the narrator to have a sister, particularly an older sister, because i examined his character and something about me just led me to the conclusion that he FEELS like a younger brother to an older sister. she's about two years older than him. she's really good at pretending to enjoy herself. where the narrator utilizes apathy as a coping mechanism for the Everything about being alive, his sister swings hard in the other direction and uses enthusiasm and toxic positivity. i have more i'd like to explore with her, i think she definitely has the capacity to be more insane, and i think the narrator would love to see that. they have a relationship where, as soon as she was old enough to talk endlessly about any given subject, she would use the narrator as an audience. especially when they were teenagers. she could talk at him for hours while he sat in silence and afterwards she'd be like, "ok good talk" and he'd just give her a thumbs up. he knows she'll be back, same time tomorrow. it doesn't bother him. and i think he does listen, sometimes, halfway, he retains some of the details. after he moved for his job, she would call him and continue to do the same thing, and he didn't mind because he doesn't have a lot else going on. he doesn't have any friends. no one else is calling him. she stopped doing it after she got married because now she had a husband to subject to this, but now that she's getting divorced i think the narrator will be hearing from her more. also, he walked her down the aisle at her wedding. and five minutes before he did this, he told her that if she didn't want to go through with it, he'd help her leave her fiance at the alter. she played it off like he was making a bad joke, but he was being 100% dead serious.

the brother-in-law: i made the decision for the brother in law to just be fucking. lame. because i thought it would be funny if the narrator's sister is married to just like. the pinnacle of everything the narrator never wants to be. like, the narrator is also lame, but at least the narrator is having good sex and is getting the shit beat out of him on the regular and doesn't actually believe in any of the mission statements of his company. the bil is like the polar opposite of tyler, and the narrator thinks no one should settle for less. he's always hated his bil, has a vague inclination that his sister deserves better, but is still consumed by apathy so has never really done anything about it.

the nephew: the nephew is probably the least developed out of everyone here, which is really ironic because my idea for his character is basically that. he has a lot of the same ambitions that the narrator and his sister originally had, but is putting more of the sister's energy into it. that is, until he gets to college and completely fucking spins out. he drops out after one semester and becomes addicted to smoking weed. he'd be a walking panic attack otherwise. i think he made himself so sick about what he wanted to do with his life he just gave up. now he works at a smoke shop and is almost always high.

the niece, aka danny: i have to thank @rabbitmotifs for really pushing me into developing this little menace. when i first wrote "the idolatry of suburbia" i wanted to keep everything really light and vague because i was not ready to come to terms with the fact that these are technically oc's. but holly really pushed me into evolving danny's personality until i was eventually brave enough to pick out a name for her and employ it. you can fit so much lore into this kid. danny thinks her uncles hung the fucking moon, tyler durden is her favorite person in the universe, even after he snapped at her in my most recent fic. danny definitely has more inclinations towards batshit insane behavior and she indulges them without really questioning them, so when she's with her uncles she doesn't feel ostracized for just being herself. she loves these men. and she's definitely got some gender things going on. if you see her emulating tyler's portrayals of masculinity, no you didn't (she'll get embarrassed).

and as an extra special bonus, tyler's people:

tyler's mom aka mable durden: listen i was really pondering my orb for this one and it just came to me like a fucking premonition. i disregard everything tyler says in the movie about "his" family, i think these are just projections of the narrator's relationships, so tyler is practically a blank slate. and the idea that tyler never knew his father at all, that he was abusive towards his mother so she left him before he was even born, that durden is his mother's maiden name?? oh that shit made me fucking bonkers. i didn't know how to handle it when the thought first occurred to me. tyler gets ALL his mannerisms from his mother, he siphoned like his whole personality off of her. she's The cigarette mom of all time. i think she could be very mean, but it's because she was over worked and poor and dead fucking tired all the time. she loved tyler a lot. she was the type who interpreted "physical affection with your kids" as "roughhousing" and this obviously influenced tyler in many many ways. she's the reason the way he shows love and affection is not through words but through actions and physical affection. she's also the reason he's addicted to nicotine. and i do believe she was a chronic complainer of her son being taller than her.

sam: ok i'll be totally completely honest i read "the parts of your hand grenade heart" by @grave-the-demon and i was BOMBARDED with the "tyler having a sister" spores. i added sam into my draft of "every man you've ever been" VERY late in the writing process. but i didn't want to just. steal the dynamic away from grace so i changed my answer a little bit so i wouldn't be accused of plagiarism. sam is like a sister to tyler. she's going to be his friend for his entire life, but he does not have such a connection to her that he can remain stationary for her. he'd only stay still in one spot for two people: his mother and the narrator. also, i need everyone to understand that sam is like. really hot. like she's so fucking strong and super fucking sexy in a Gay Woman type of way but the narrator has never been attracted to women a day in his life so he just doesn't perceive her as attractive so it never gets stated in the text. but please know this.

i'll be honest, i made the decision when writing "the idolatry of suburbia" to give the sister one boy and one girl because i didn't want the narrator to refer to anyone other than by their identifiers: my mom, my sister, my brother-in-law, my niece, my nephew. this continues in "every man you've ever been" whereas all the characters introduced in relation to tyler are given real names: mable durden, samantha hanes. and in "see me on the eight o'clock news" danny is only given a name when sam points out the presence of a relationship between her and tyler. sam mentions that danny seems more related to tyler than to the narrator, asks for her name, and it is immediately stated. prior, even in that fic, the narrator had only referred to her as "my niece" because i'm a creative writing student and i need to be playing 8D chess all the time.

anyway, that's my little spiel. thank you for coming to my ted talk.

#op #anon #fight club

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

Whilst I try to enter every conversion with an open mind, I won’t lie, whenever someone starts talking about ‘patriarchy’ this, and ‘toxic masculinity’ that, I roll my eyes and find myself acting as a parent would, when their child once again grabs hold of the microphone, to unleash a diatribe of incoherent babble.

I hear reductive, meaningless, and shame-laden neologisms pepper discourse, stoke division, and erode the value and mental health of men and boys.

I watch as we routinely and systematically deride ‘men’, and name everything bad in the world after them.

How we insult and gaslight men, pathologising innate parts of who they are as ‘toxic’, to be expunged, exorcised or corrected.

We frame men as collectively responsible.

We blame them for things they never did and are horrified by.

This slow drip of such hateful ideas naturally impacts the group consciousness of society, who have now learnt to dislike men too; including men, who continue to take their own lives in record numbers.

And whilst this ‘men vs women’ narrative might sell your angry book, look great on a placard, or shift tickets to expensive ‘positive masculinity’ workshops where the self-righteous flagellate themselves, and proselytize, with whines and crocodile tears – such ideas have little efficiency in the realm of real life.

Such ideas don’t work. Such ideas often make things worse.

They make little sense and are thankfully rejected by most of the world.

Still, damage is being done, and ought to be discussed.

So, what do you think of the profile of men, now found to be the most disliked demographic of all?

And what can we do to reframe people’s minds to value, treasure and respect men, as we do women?

What do you think?

--

Sources:

Study: "Intersectional implicit bias: Evidence for asymmetrically compounding bias and the predominance of target gender"

Center for Male Psychology: "Landmark research study finds clear evidence of pro-women/anti-men bias"

Supplementary studies:

"'Women are wonderful' Effect"

"Sentencing in Homicide Cases and the Role of Vengeance"

"Evaluations of sexual assault: perceptions of guilt and legal elements for male and female aggressors using various coercive strategies"

"Estimating Gender Disparities in Federal Criminal Cases"

"The Thorny Challenge of Making Moral Machines: Ethical Dilemmas with Self-Driving Cars"

"Police Perceptions of Rape as Function of Victim Gender and Sexuality"

==

Bonus study: "Worth the Risk? Greater Acceptance of Instrumental Harm Befalling Men than Women"

==

Nobody who lives in a western country lives in a "patriarchy."

As evidenced by this very simple question: who are you allowed to criticize and villainize with impunity, with no expectations of repercussions?

If you lived in an actual "patriarchy," you couldn't complain about the "patriarchy." You'd suffer government and societal repercussions. Like Iran, Saudi Arabia or Afghanistan.

Pretending you're the same makes you vile and repugnant. Western women are the freest, most self-determining, prosperous people who have ever walked the face of the planet at any time ever.

#The Tin Men #anti male bias #anti male #misandry #pro female bias #pro female #women are wonderful #women are wonderful effect #toxic masculiity #tHe PaTriArChY #western feminism #male disposability #gynocentrism #religion is a mental illness

[collapsedsquid]

I recently spoke with the Kyiv-based journalist Leonid Shvets, whom I have found, over the years, to have a knack for pithily formulating the views of the Ukrainian mainstream. He told me that conversations in which Americans came up with scenarios for Ukraine to surrender drove him up a wall. “Why don’t you surrender to the Chinese?” he said. “Give them Florida. You have lots of states, what’s one state less?” Florida, of course, was a complicated example. “Or, if you’re so eager to make a deal with the Russians, why don’t you give them some of your land? Give them Alaska.” He thought that anything short of total defeat for Putin would just mean that the war would start up again. “We went through this already in 2014,” he said.

“Here’s the problem,” he continued. “If we freeze the situation where it now is, not along Ukraine’s internationally recognized border but along whatever line the front happens to be at, then we acknowledge that internationally recognized borders are just a kind of fiction, which you can ignore. That’s a very bad lesson. And, second, if we put the borders in this new place, then we’re in a situation where this new border is worth even less than the internationally recognized border. Maybe a new military operation will move it even further, move it over here, or move it over there. So at that point it is just totally without meaning.”

Shvets acknowledged that people in Ukraine were exhausted after a year and a half of war. “No question, every day the war goes on is, for us, specific people who are lost, and specific houses that are destroyed. Absolutely. But we are not yet ready for defeat.” He went on: “There may come a point where we need to negotiate. But from where we are right now, that point is not visible to me.”

There are dissenting voices within Ukraine, but they are seldom heard from in public. One former official, who asked that we disguise his identity, told me, “The dialogue is not just toxic. If you are not jumping up and down with the mainstream, then you are an enemy.” The former official was not an enemy, but he did blame the Zelensky administration for its lighthearted and irresponsible attitude toward the Russian troop buildup in 2021. The former official was getting his family out of the country and making preparations for what he believed was an imminent attack. Meanwhile, Zelensky was telling people to remain calm and citing Ukraine’s sovereign rights. This, the former official said, was a grave miscalculation. “When there’s a crazy person next to you with a Kalashnikov, you don’t start talking to him about the U.N. Charter!”

The former official believes that the Istanbul talks were the best chance at a more or less stable peace. “Back then Bakhmut was a beautiful city,” he said. “Mariupol was under Ukrainian control.” But now “there is no win-win solution any longer,” he said. “Someone will have to lose.” He hoped it would be Russia. But he feared it could be Ukraine. I asked him when public opinion might begin to turn. “When every single person knows someone who has been killed or wounded,” he replied. The country was getting there.

For Charap, the Ukrainian position on when to stop fighting is decisive, but it’s an evasion of responsibility to pretend that the U.S. can’t have an opinion on the matter. “You have to do this with the Ukrainians,” he said. “You can’t do it to the Ukrainians. But to suggest that we have no ability to influence them in any way is disingenuous. Like, we feel it’s O.K. to advise them about everything under the sun, but not war termination?”

[yanderepuck]

Kat! Hi! This is me pretending I'm not in class because I cannot be bothered with ethical dilemmas 💫today 💫

So I'm going to talk about random ikevamp stuff because I want today to at least let me have some serotonin!

I know you love Will and Charles and dislike Arthur...

But I'm wondering...other then continuously stating my love and devotion for my (and Scummy, Jekyll, and Katelyn's) Arthur...

Have I ever mentioned who's the vampire that I wouldn't exactly get along with much? 🤔 I wouldn't say hate just not mix well...

It's actually a tie between two...

I don't hate them! I just don't think I'd hangout with them much due to some personal icks of mine...

I'd still be thankful to have them in my life and treat them like family as I would all the vampires but I feel like if someone unintentionally made me sad it would be them...

And thoes two are Theo and Jean...yes odd pair but still XD

I HATE ADMITTING IT BUT ME AND ARTHUR WOULD GET ALONG SOOOOOO WELL. LIKE I HATE HOW BUDDY BUDDY WE WOULD ACTUALLY BE.

As much as a simp for Theo, I'm honestly not sure if I'd really get along with him either. Man is really just a hot beef cake to me and I want him in my bed.

But I do agree with the Theo and Jean. I wouldn't vibe with Jean at all. He's probably irritated me more than anything. I honestly would probably dislike so many of the residents in actuality.

Is Mozart and Napoleon aren't a bitch to me immediately we'd get along. Vincent is waaay too positive it's almost toxic, he'd make me want to throw up

But in actuality I would be besties with Arthur and Dazai, and probably slowly become friends with Theo by going to the bar

ALSO I LOVE YOU AND HOPE YOU ARE DOING WELL ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[queentheweeb]

Alpha Izuku Midoriya X Omega Eijiro Kirishima

Deku always had problems with Bakugo growing up, especially when he used to be quirkless. When he presented as an Alpha, Bakugo did his absolute best to make him feel less than dirt, an Alpha, and quirkless. He was useless. He didn't let it deter him from his dream of becoming a hero and when he got into U.A? Bakugo almost blew up Aldera. Too bad. Flash forward two months into the year and he and Bakugo were neck to neck with Shoto right behind him. Three Alphas fighting for the top spot in everything mostly because of Bakugo? Recipe for disaster. Now flash forward another two months and now Izuku and Bakugo were fighting for the attention of the class favorite and sweetest redhead. 

"I really don't want Kirishima to be with Bakugo," Izuku said nothing as he listened to Ochako and his other friends' banter about his conflicted feelings for the redhead. He really did like Kirishima a lot. He was kind, he was sweet, and he always had positivity to give out even if it can be seen as a little toxic to the wrong person. At first, Izuku thought it was impossible for someone to radiate the way he did but, he has been proven wrong before and this time is no different. 

"It is not up to us who Kirishima wants to be with!" Iida the always loud and smart one pointed it out. Deku would be the last person on Earth to force someone to do anything let alone be with him over someone else. If Kirishima wanted to be with Bakugo then so be it, even though he feels he can be so much better at caring for him than Bakugo ever will be. He knew Bakugo. He was a dick on a good day. 

"I think we are all aware of that Iida, especially Midoriya." Midoriya looked up in mild surprise at Shoto who was staring at him with his ever-present blank face. "It's the truth." He continued to eat his cold soba, satisfied with the silence that followed what he said. At least Iida wasn't chopping the air all robotically and being loud. 

"I agree with Ochako-Chan, I would love for Kirishima to choose you over Bakugo-kun. You would treat him better." Midoriya simply smirked at Tsu. He appreciated her honest bluntness and found it endearing how she would do anything to make Ochako happy and to get her approval. He really hopes the two of them get together soon or he would just stuff them in the closet. 

"You haven't said a word though Deku-kun." He shrugged his shoulders continuing to eat his helping of Katsudon. What was there to say that they already didn't know about him?

"I...would love to have him but...the way he hangs out with Bakugo? I'm not sure." To be honest he wouldn't put it past Bakugo that he noticed his advances and simply didn't want Izuku to be happy. He believes he doesn't even like the redhead. He just doesn't want him to be with Izuku. It was quiet before Iida, surprisingly, opened his mouth.

"I hate to be presumptuous...but, I think you have a better chance than Bakugo... Bakugo simply pretends to care whenever you have Kirishima's attention...other than that he acts like Kirishima doesn't exist." Iida was the last person he expected to be helpful.

"Thank you Iida-kun." No more was said as Midoriya's mind was on overdrive. He had plans to make.

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Step 1 was to start training together. Kirishima was always with the Bakugo squad and he wanted to see if he can train with him one-on-one. He waited patiently until Kirishima had a minute to himself and that's when he made his move. 

"Mido-bro?" He smiled a bit at the nickname greeting Kirishima.

"Kiri-kun, do you want to train together?" He prayed he said yes. The redhead looked stunned before he gave him a 100-watt smile.

"I thought you'll never ask! Let's go." That went a lot smoother than he thought as the excitable Omega dragged him to somewhere with more space. He glanced behind him to see the other members of the Bakugo-squad staring at them. Perfect, the way Kiri was dragging him made it seem like it was his idea all along. Midoriya continued this strategy up until Kiri started asking him which was perfect. He really enjoyed training with him because in between each session they would talk about random things. To Midoriya's surprise one day Kirishima asked to sit with him during lunch. This started becoming a weekly routine that 1-2 times a week he would sit with him and they would just talk and bullshit. This was not part of his plan but, he would take any and all time he can have with Kirishima. 

"I'm glad to see you and Kiri getting along so well." He felt himself blush at the smirk that Ochako had on her face. He hid in his arms even though he was happy as hell. He was getting closer to Kirishima and Bakugo has been extra harsh with him to the point where his own friend group is telling him to relax without attacking him. He breaths wrong in class and he wants to blow him up 

"Bakugo, If you continue to act erratically, attacking Izuku for just breathing I will place you in Class 1-b and mandatory anger management. Do I make myself clear?" Aizawa was holding a growling Bakugo who was trying to attack Izuku for God knows what. Izuku knew. His friends knew. No one else didn't. 

 Izuku shook his head, it was a miracle that Bakugo wasn't attacking him now. He glanced up and over to see Bakugo glaring holes into him. He can see the prominent veins in his neck from here. Maybe he was thinking too soon, a little too hopeful. Katsuki's friends noticed how he was acting too

"Yo, Bakugo, what is your problem with Midoriya?" It was Sero while the rest of them were staring at him. 

"I hate him. He doesn't deserve peace." Kirishima was frowning at him. Ever since he confided in him that he liked Midoriya he started acting like this. Midoriya literally doesn't do anything wrong. 

"Why Bakugo? Why do you insist on making Midoriya's life hell? What did he do to you?" Kirishima was very upset and demanded answers 

"BECAUSE HE LIKES YOU AND YOU ARE TOO DENSE TO SEE IT." What. Kirishima short-circuited and the whole table went quiet. They all were staring at Bakugo waiting for him to explain himself. "I hate that he likes you. He doesn't deserve to be happy. I don't want him happy." Kiri was disgusted with his behavior. He abruptly stood up from his table and glared at Bakugo.

"I don't know nor do I care what your issue is but, I think you should take anger management and I hope Aizawa takes you out. I don't want to look at you." He left a very angry Bakugo behind and made his way to Izuku. They needed to talk. He went up to their table, waved, and grabbed Izuku's hand. "We need to talk" Izuku simply blinked as he guided him out of the cafeteria. They sat outside under a tree with Hounddog and Aizawa patrolling due to recent villain attacks on the school. 

"U-uh, what was it-" Kiri turned to him, hands on his hips trying to be brave even though he was freaking out inside. Midoriya liked him back?

"Is it true you have a crush on me?" Izuku froze, blabbering before abruptly stopping, dropping his eyes, and nodding his head. "For how long?" Midoriya had the courage to look up at him in the face.

"For a few months...I heard Kacchan yelling at you about me, um, I'm sorry he did that-" Kirishima stopped him with a hug. The boy's mumbling stopped as he froze in the embrace

"It's fine. You did nothing wrong. I don't know your guy's history that well, I know you guys were childhood friends" He felt Midoriya tense after he said "Or whatever you guys were, but, he has no right to treat you the way he does. You're so kind, perfect, and the best choice of Alpha. You know I actually told him I had a crush on you? I should have known something was wrong when he reacted violently but, he's Bakugo that's his reaction to everything. I was just happy that someone knew and I thought he would help but, he was just trying to do the opposite." Kirishima stopped his rambling when he felt arms snake around his waist in a firm hold. It was nice. Midoriya was nice. They stood like that for a couple of minutes.

"...Now that we both know how the other feels, um, would you like to date? I don't want to rush-" Midoriya's rambling was cut short when Kirishima brushed their noses together. 

"I would love to date you Midoriya. Anyone would be glad to call you theirs but, I'm just the lucky one." Midoriya's face was as red as Kirishima's but, it was fine. Everything was going to be fine. They will be fine.

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What do you guys think about this one?

#anime #fanfic #manga #bnha #mha #fanfiction #quotev #quirks #fluff #x reader #Alpha Izuku #omega kirishima #Izuku x Kirishima #kirideku #dekukiri #Midoriya x Kirishima #a/b/o au #a/b/o dynamics #Alpha deku

[logarithmicpanda]

OFMD season 2 script analysis - Episode 1:

So as a writer I'm interested in looking at what each scene achieves in this season, because I feel a lot is conveyed very efficiently. Notes taken on the fly and subject to my own interpretation:

Dream sequence: misdirection. Shows Stede's fears and hopes

Wake up fart: return to reality. Stede has been pining. Establishes current setting and conditions

Letter to Ed: difference between how Stede presents things and reality. Callback to first season. Puts the Swede in a position that will be useful for the plot. Introduction of Ricky.

Wedding raid: parallels the letter, Ed tries to kill love. Overflow of violence, implication it has been ongoing. Slides in why Ivan isn't there and uses that to reinforce Ed's emotional state. Character moment for Frenchie (how much trauma can you fit into that guy?)

Soup cart: introduces Zheng and her interest in Olu. Lets us know Stede has been stalling but believes Ed is fundamentally good

Izzy's breakdown: Izzy trying to mediate with Ed. Ed questioning his ability to do the job. The juxtaposition with the previous scene highlights that Ed is not currently being a good guy, but might still see himself as one (the crew got cake, didn't they!) Crew questioning Izzy's mental state, and talking it through (Stede's influence is haunting the ship) Establishes that Izzy has lost more toes, and that his relationship with the crew has shifted from season 1

Jackie's racket: reinforces that the crew has money, Stede is just reluctant. Also reinforce that the Swede has integrated with the other husbands

Under the bridge: bit of humor, and urging to move on.

Talking to the wanted poster: Stede admitting the truth and facing his fears. Ricky shows up again. Establishes that Stede is susceptible to flattery. He tries to act as a role model and dissuade Ricky from being in Nassau or near Jackie. Bait for the plan

The Plan(TM): the Swede has been happy as a husband, but feels a debt to Stede (callback to end of season 1)

Love confession: Izzy taking the side of the crew rather than enforcing Ed's orders. Confronts the toxic atmosphere (same words the crew used, they got through to Izzy) The callback to Stede escalates things. Ed threatened the crew and is spiraling. Izzy calls it out and gets shot as a reward. Setup for the record.

Husbandly duties: bit of humour, continuing on the line of pretending something is a sex scene when it isn't. Use the distraction to steal the chest and move the plot forward. Ricky messes up, gets his nose cut, sets him off as future antagonist. Zheng intervenes to save the crew.

Storytime: Jim uses Stede's techniques to calm down Fang. Also hints that Archie is interested in Jim. Meanwhile Frenchie is shown trying to do his job, met with Ed's fancy ass metaphors. Ed intends to run forward until he can't, and resents Stede

To Zheng's boat: immediate parallel of Stede missing Ed lol the contrast. Hint as Buttons being a sea witch.

Post credit: more of Jim's story, there is still light among the crew

#this is messy but eh it's mostly for me tbh #lots of parallels between scenes and with season 1 #plothooks being scattered around #relationships being deepened #good stuff #our flag means death #ofmd s2 spoilers