#says that on the image but!! wanted you to know anyway

[rafeandonlyrafe]

separate lines

words: 600 (+ three images)

warnings: entire fic is through phone calls/text messages, parental death (ward), established relationship, kinda protective rafe but its cute he just misses his girl, includes pictures of "readers" face/body, kind of illusions to sex (like barely!), overall pretty fluffy

“rafey!” you squeal as you answer your phone seconds after it rings. “how's it going?”

“well, everything is still standing.” rafe huffs out. you can practically hear the stress in his voice.

“that's good, baby. i miss you a lot.” sure, he just left this morning to drive back to the outer banks, but that doesn't change the fact that you miss him anytime he's away from you.

“god, i miss you too. if rose didn't need me here id still be-

“i know.” you cut rafe off. “you're back for three days with your family. it'll be fine and then we will be back together.”

you know being back in the outer banks is stressful for rafe after everything that happened. the mess with barry, the pogues, and then all culminating in his dad dying. when you decided to go a couple hours away to college, you still thought you'd have to persuade your boyfriend to come with you, to leave the only life he's ever known, but he jumped at the chance.

you live in a luxury townhouse right near downtown. you're even able to walk to most of your classes, of course with rafe by your side.

“you're right.” rafe hums. “we are figuring out the will stuff tomorrow morning.”

“i wish i could be there for you. text or call if you need anything.” you have classes tomorrow, but you'd drop anything if rafe really needed you.

“yeah just… text me updates, please? even if you just do the laundry or something. it helps to know.”

“of course i will.” you smile, hearing some commotion in the background. “and rafey? give wheezie a hug for me.”

“is that y/n?” you hear her voice in the background, then the fumbling of the phone being handed off.

“y/n!” wheezie squeals.

“wheezie, my girl!”

--

--

“how are you getting to class?” rafe asks, looking into the room where proceedings are about to start, going over his fathers will and who gets what. he knows most of it will go to rose, most likely the house and the real estate company. he doesn't really care. he has a new life now, one with you.

“amber is gonna drive me and pick me up. and no, her boyfriend will not be there.” you giggle, knowing even though amber and her boyfriend steven have been together since third grade, rafe would still worry with him around.

“and you're going to poli sci and then your geology lab, right?” rafe has your schedule memorized, but he likes to hear your confirmation anyways.

“yup!” you nod, even though rafe can't see you. “im excited for todays lab, actually. it's not rock identification, which you know i suck at.”

rafe let's out a soft laugh, having sat and listened to your complaining about rocks for hours already this semester.

“rafe, it's starting soon.” rose says, her words being picked up by you, otherwise rafe probably would have just ignored her in favor of keeping talking.

“alright, baby. hope it all goes well and doesn't take too long. i love you.” you coo into the phone.

“love you more.”

--

--

“home tomorrow.” rafe whispers softly, not wanting to wake up anyone else in the house. he's exhausted, so they must be too. it was a long day with lots of legal jargon, but everything got divided up about how he expected it to. 

most to rose, then the additional savings divided up evenly between him, sarah, and wheezie.

“im glad.” you whisper back, matching his tone even though you're home alone. “i ordered a cute pair of pajamas to wear to help me sleep. you know how much i struggle without you.”

“your insomnia cure.” rafe smiles, remembering what you called him after you first started sharing a bed, able to easily relax into him and fall into a true deep sleep.

“mhm.” you hum out, letting out a yawn. “do you mind staying on the call until i fall asleep?”

“baby, ill stay on all night.”

--

sfw tags: @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie

#i forgot to change the times for the texts so just pretend reader scrolled back and screenshoted them all at the same time thanks! #rafe fic #rafe fanfic #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe fluff #rafe cameron fluff #obx fic #outer banks fic #obx fanfic #outer banks fanfic #rafe x you #rafe x y/n #rafe x reader #rafe x oc #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x oc #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe imagine #rafe blurb #rafe drabble #rafe one shot #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron one shot #rafe cameron drabble #rafe cameron imagine

[kissitbttr]

a sweet moment of frat!miguel and muñeca that we rarely get to see

to miguel, relationships are complex.

he’s not built for one and never meant to. the idea of having to commit to one person when he still wants to have fun sounds like a real torture. the constant clinging and demands of going out on dates just enough to make him scowl. like what’s the point of it all? spending money on gifts or valentines dates just seem to be a waste of time.

until she entered the picture. gone were the days where his money were spent on booze and gears.

now, he’s having the ultimate pleasure of spoiling his girlfriend, walking her to classes, stay during cheerleading practice and begging her to stay over at the frat house. all that he did out of consciousness,

even curating the image of what their wedding would look like in the future.

yeah. that much.

the couple decides to have a small picnic at the campus park during their free period. whereas the rest of the students are busy with studying and walking from building to building, these two lovers find the spare time to be with each other.

“i love hibiscus flowers. they’re pretty” muñeca mentions, laying on her side with palm supporting the head. “sunflowers too—much better than a rose”

miguel fixes himself a smile upon his beautiful girlfriend, deciding to mirror her action by laying on his side as well. “how abouut cake flavor, cariño?”

she looks over at him and the sight is making her drool. the shirt that he’s sporting compliments his rippling muscles, not to mention the few unbuttons at the top showcasing a bit of his chest hair and gold chain around the neck.

“are you going somewhere with this?” she questions with a smile, seeing him shrug,

“just asking” he replies, eyes staring intently into hers. “i want to know what my girl likes—because if she mentions vanilla then i’m out”

muñeca giggles, head shaking at the ridiculous assumption. “i would never!” miguel grins even wider hearing the sound of that laugh. “i love red velvet—and anything fruit infused desserts”

he nods, making a mental note on that one. “what if I prefer chocolates?”

“then we can have both” she answers casually, hand sneaking through its way towards the slope of his calloused one. “chocolates and raspberries are good combo, anyway—not white or milk chocolates though. dark is the way”

“that’s my girl” miguel praises, his thumb drawing circles around her skin. “i love this dress on you, by the way—wear it often”

“you say that pretty much about everything i wear miggy!” she smiles, kissing his jaw. “you’re biased”

“is it my fault that my girlfriend looks good in everything?” he asks as if he’s proving his innocence, tightening the hold of his hand around hers, “got the prettiest girl on campus by my side and there’s no way i’m missing the chance to let her know how hot she is”

her cheeks warm at the compliment, looking down momentarily to hide the large grin that’s threatening to break through, “you just want to fuck me” it’s a joke,

“is it working?” he jokes back with a raised eyebrow, earning himself a punch on the shoulder making him grunt and laugh, “caray, ma!—you sure got some strength in you”

“thanks to my handsome linebacker’s workout routine” she winks, curling a loose hair around his forehead,

“put me in a headlock next, i beg of you” he says, and she can’t tell if he’s really joking or serious but she wouldn’t be surprised if it was the latter,

“ugh! you’re so unserious sometimes!”

they both share a laugh after. “okay back to question number—five!” he picks a chocolate covered strawberry with his free hand off the plate and pop it in his mouth. “dream destination?”

her lips curl into a thinking mode and so are her eyebrows, clutching their interlocked hand against her chest. “hmm—bali, malaysia, and rome”

miguel hums, nodding as he looks down. she tilts her head to the side with confusion written all over her face, watching him. “what is this, intervention?”

“what, no. can’t a guy ask his girl a few things to get to know her better?”

“miggy, we fuck at least three times a day, i think we already went past that kind of formalities” she rolls her eyes playfully, seeing how he shrugs innocently and grin. “so? what is this about? first it was about my favorite decorations, second it’s about my favorite dish and drinks of choice and then third, and fourth—“ she trails off, watching the shy smile on his face appears as he avoids her gaze,

“what?” she asks confused, yet his smile is contagious and that makes her smile too,

“just thinking about how everything would look like for our wedding someday”

“a wedding?”

“y-yeah” he scratches the back of his neck nervously, “i’m making notes, you know? i trust them all with you, muñeca—want you to handle everything”

her heart somehow blooms in her chest, gaze softening when he mentions about marriage. tying a knot. living happily ever after. with her.

she feels the little girl inside of her is squealing at the thought of a prince charming asking her for a hand. like ones she read on fairy tales and bedtime stories.

he wants to marry her

upon hearing no response, he feels the embarrassment creeping in as he gulps, his hand trembling slightly at the thought of being rejected. he would probably cry if she told him that she doesn’t see the future together.

“look you don’t—“

“baby” she coos, her hand moving to cup his face. “you want to marry me?”

he feels somehow at ease when he hears the tone of her voice, realizing that he may not look like an eager idiot whom he thought he’d be in front of her, “i do” his response is firm and set. “do you?”

the way he’s looking at her with hopeful eyes makes her wish that they’re both alone right now, just so she could straddle his lap and smother him with kisses. but seeing that they’re not and at a public space, especially on campus, she’s holding herself back.

instead of that, she cups his face before leaning in for a kiss. miguel sighs into her mouth, kissing her back with much more passion as he snakes a hand around her waist. the kiss is somehow becoming more intense and hungry. he then moves himself to move on top of her in swift motion, making her giggle at his enthusiasm.

what’s supposed to be a simple kiss, turns into a heavy makeout session. she squeezes both his shoulders as a gesture to take it easy, not wanting the head of security to catch them in the act. again.

miguel huffs when she pulls away, but the taste of her lips remains to be the reason why a lovesick smile attached on his features.

“of course i do” she replies, “just make sure that the ring is ready after we graduate, o’hara” and miguel will hold onto that. he will buy the most expensive and prettiest ring ever for her.

she swears that the love she has for him is bigger than anything. he had changed a lot for the better and she couldn’t be more proud. miguel had learned so many things during the times he had shared with her, and it would be so crazy to think that she didn’t bring any positive impact in his life.

her existence is the key of him growing. not just love but as a person as well. and he would argue to hell and back with anyone just to prove the point of his gratitude to her will always be bigger than this girl,

none of these two lovers knew what fate had in stored for them. to have a committed relationship with someone wasn’t in either’s bucket list, let alone getting married. but everything seems to have changed.

before this, they didn’t even know each other. there had been a time where miguel didn’t know muñeca exist and vice versa. and there’s some sort of twinge rattle in his chest, knowing that someone else could be loving her instead of him.

he doesn’t like that. at all.

the negative thought that plagued into his mind somehow gets pulled when he feels her soft padded thumb traces his lower lip. his pupils dilating when he looks at her, with the pretty smile that he never gets tired of. seeing that often makes his heart fail to find a steady rhythm.

gaze in her eyes speaks so kindly to him. a look in which helps to remind him that she belongs to him and so does he to her. and miguel finds himself exhale a breath of relief yet once again.

‘she is so unbelievably gorgeous and all mine’

#frat!miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara blurbs

[kunikukitty]

☆ Always An Artist, Never The Muse

Scaramouche/Wanderer x Fem!reader

ix. beauty of art

Since when did it started?

You've always been complimented to be a beauty, always been given praises, and you too are confident when it comes to your appearance.

Not to mention, you are also surrounded by good-looking girls such as Mona, Hutao, and Faruzan.

When did it started, when you began to question your own vision and the mirror? Since when were you became so sensitive about your appearance?

Being an artist who desired to be a muse was your ultimate struggle before. And perhaps, even until today.

You never made a portrait of yourself, having more interest in other scenery you see — and never did you became anyone's art inspiration.

To the non-artists, this might not be a thought worth being sad about. You too, you tell yourself it isn't a big deal, yet it persists. There is an ache, a longing to be admired just as how much you used to admire those whom you painted.

You used to be saddened over the fact that no artist chose you— maybe because you are an artist yourself?

However, even after your candle of passion became unlit— even after the spark that used to shine so brightly began to lose its light, you didn't became anyone's object of admiration.

"Don't worry, I'll keep you company."

You heaved a sigh as you heard Capitano utter those words in a reassuring manner, resting your head to the backrest of the bus seat you're sitting on.

He must've sensed your nervousness, also with the fact that he knows what you've been through.

That's the reason why you rejected those other fine art students anyway, since you didn't want to be just become a muse because you're a part of the options.

They were tasked to ask exchange students to be their model for their project. None of them would ask you if you weren't one, and you hated that. Could it be your pride as an artist hovering over your mind, that you wished to be somebody's muse because they specifically chose you and not just because you happened to be there as an option?

And now you were asked again yet for the same situation— you weren't the first choice.

Is this petty? You honestly don't care.

How silly these emotions of yours, hindering you from enjoying being a muse for the first time.

The bus stopped and the two of you exits the ride. You walked with Capitano as he led the way, coming to a halt some minutes later in front of a black gate. He looked at you before hitting the doorbell.

You brought a hand to caress your own face. Your skin isn't exactly clear, though you do not have many blemishes either.

You've always been confident of your appearance, and you didn't know why. Is it because you truly are indeed beautiful, or where you just blinded because of the praises you've heard?

Yet whenever you look in the mirror, you can't help but to see your image turning uglier each second. Is what you see in the mirror what you actually looked like?

You breathed in and out, wanting to mask the nervousness you're feeling. Faruzan is pretty, would the artist be disappointed upon seeing a face inferior to hers—

Forget about that, because you are the one disappointed right now...!

You regretted getting swayed with Faruzan's words. You even asked Mona for an advice to strengthen your decision, and she also said some motivating words similar to Faruzan.

What a load of bullshit, you shouldn't had listened!

Because it's fine, yes, it would be fine.

This trip could've turn out good just as your friends say— if not for the man standing before you! This... is he the artist?

The moment he opened the gate, you glared at him from head to toe, in which he responded with a roll of his eyes, turning his attention to Capitano instead.

The same shade of indigo that ruined your mood at the time you first entered the university, the blind-hater man!

Honestly, you could brush that off as just bad day for both of you which led to a stupid argument, but the bad impression lasted!

Whenever you see him around the campus, there's just this underlying vibes around him that ruins your mood. So even if you both ain't having a conversation, it's as if you are being brought back to that argument and you can't help but to feel the annoyance all over again.

And therefore strengthening the bad impression.

You followed after them as they entered his... kind of a huge house.

Of course, of course. Students at that goddamn university are rich, it's no wonder.

You eyed the interior, a minimalist design yet it looks extravagant due to the high-end materials. High ceilings, big chandeliers— his living room is grand and sophisticated space. The walls are in neutral colors, decorated with many paintings...

Oh.

Are these his works? They are... beautiful.

Not just beautiful, but breathtakingly beautiful.

Every pieces are paintings of abstracts and places, and there are no single painting of an image of a human.

The scenery looks realistic though, are portraits just not his forte? Or maybe he just didn't displayed them.

You got too absorbed at staring at them that Capitano had to tug you forward. His gentle hold brought you out of your reverie, continuing to follow after his friend.

"What even is his name?" You asked in a whisper.

"Oh right, you didn't get to be introduced properly." He nodded at himself, "Scaramouche is his name," then he called his friend's attention, "And she is [Name]."

...That turned awkward, just for you maybe. 'Scaramouche' just nodded his head and so did you.

When he opened another door, you almost drooled at the sight. Because why wouldn't you— it is his very own art studio inside his home! It's huge and definitely pleasing to look at. There are many paintings on the floor and some are hanging over the wall, all of the pieces are masterpiece! There are an unfinished sculpture of a head on one of the tables, charcoal drawings on paper, sketches of anatomy, movable wooden figure, and more.

Despite not liking him, you hold a respect to every artists. Not to mention, one look at his studio and you could tell he is talented...

You had to contain your excitement.

It's not like you're hiding that you are an (ex) artist, but you also do not want to show hints or tell that you are one, especially that you have nothing to show.

You would rather keep it that way, people not having an answer whether you are or not an artist— except for those who already know, of course.

"Pardon me, [Name]." You looked over to Capitano who has an apologetic expression on his face. "There happen to be an emergency, I'll leave you to Scaramouche's care."

You just nodded, Capitano had always been a busy man. You watched as he converse with the said man before he gave you a small wave, walking away.

"Stay here."

'Scaramouche' said, and you were left alone in his very own art studio.

You sat down on a stool, probably the seat he prepared for Faruzan. With a frown, you looked around.

Your heart raced as your eyes met your own pair of eyes, the full length mirror in front of you glinted in an ugly way.

You felt frozen in time. Is it because you would be exposed to an artist's eyes who would look at every detail of your appearance so he could draw it, the reason why you felt so bare in your own vision?

It was as if suddenly, you appear naked in front of everyone— drowning in their uncomfortable stares that ran through your insides.Your skin is getting ripped the more you stare at your own reflection, and you feel so exposed to the point that every nook of your face became visible in your eyes.

Since when this started, really? Where you no longer feel beautiful at every angle, as if your features are becoming distorted.

Ah, right. The people who compliments you are non-artists. You used to be one and yet you never drew yourself, and now you feel so imperfect and full of flaws. Maybe because you're aware of the truth.

Maybe this is why you've only became a muse now of an artist who had no choice but to draw you— you are indeed pretty, just not pretty enough that people wants to keep looking at you.

An art is supposed to be beautiful in every way, a masterpiece people enjoy looking at.

You, are not a piece worth staring at.

You are not designed to be a muse in the first place— and you no longer had the skills to paint.

Everyone is either an artist or the art, so now, where do you stand?

prev | masterlist | next

note. im back yippiiieeee hello yall ^^

taglist. @veekoko @aeongiies @featuredtofu @kodzusmiles @magica-ren @feiherp @beriiov @hiraethhv @kleej @eutopiastar @keiiqq @bananasquash @kuniisvt (i cant tag those in bold ;(()

#genshin impact #kabukimono #wanderer #wanderer x reader #wanderer x y/n #wanderer x you #genshin fanfic #genshin x reader #wanderer fanfic #scaramouche smau #scaramouche x reader #wanderer smau

[abramswife]

HALF OF ME (ii)

SUMMARY: When Soldier Boy doesn’t return from Nicaragua, Vought creates a bullshit lie, talking him up as a hero who died in a devastating, world-saving accident. You’re handed down the mantle of leader as Payback, and spend your time trying to live up to how Ben had lead them, while also attempting to figure out what truly happened to him.

WORD COUNT: 2945

WARNINGS: MINORS DNI. Vought’s corrupt behaviour, typical Soldier Boy behaviour, death, gore, vomit, drug abuse, alcohol abuse, sexual content, smut; descriptions of sex.

SERIES MASTERLIST / MAIN MASTERLIST

Ben didn’t come home from Nicaragua.

Blown to pieces by some Russian laser weapon (what the fuck?), the.. chunky remnants of his body were taken away in a helicopter. Presumably to be experimented on.

It made you sick. Ben might’ve been an asshole, a deep rooted cunt, but he didn’t deserve to have his corpse be defiled like that. Maybe you’d just gone soft for him, that’s all. Maybe his hushed, sweet words and gentle touches, in his last few days, had softened your heart.

But you spent nights grieving your loss, hyperventilating in your room as you felt his fingers tracing your hips again. If you closed your eyes tight enough, you could see him.

You’d never planned for Ben to die. Hell, he hadn’t even planned to do. He was supposed to be ageless; a man who didn’t die. Vought would hide him away when it became suspicious, and he’d live peacefully… as peaceful as he could get, anyway. That was what was supposed to happen.

But his guts were strewn across the base camp in Nicaragua, and you’d never see him again.

It only took Vought three months to create a bullshit cover story.

After all, they couldn’t tell America their beloved Soldier Boy was actually at the site of a cocaine smuggling operation when he was blown to bits. No, that’d taint his image that Vought had spent literal decades moulding. He needed to die a hero. A man that would live gloriously in textbooks and stories.

A nuclear reactor meltdown is what they came up with.

Fucking bullshit, really.

The man was practically immortal (which did raise the question of, how the hell did the Russians kill him in the first place?). Some radiation wasn’t going to take him out. You’d watched him take two full magazines from an assault rifle, and get back to his feet like nothing happened.

And now he was dead. You didn’t know how. You wished more than ever that he’d let you accompany Payback on this godforsaken mission. Because you were utterly clueless as to what had gone down, and no one was answering your questions, tearing up whenever you mentioned the place.

You wanted — needed — to know how this was possible.

You knew Ben, better than anyone else on the team, even Crimson, who stood up on stage, talking about how good of a man Ben was.

Ben was a good man — to those he thought deserved to see that side of him. He was reserved and harsh and rude. And, yes, he was naturally an asshole. But, there was a part of him capable of respect and kindness and love. It was just stuffed deep within.

You’d been drawing it, slowly and carefully. You’d dug your hand in and grasped onto it, worming that side of him out of his heart with every night you’d spent cuddled into his chest. And he’d been warming. His touches had been gentler, his words softer, his eyes more admiring. You’d made him that. You were the only one he’d deemed worthy of his love and trust and respect.

Crimson had never seen that side of him. She’d never even come close to opening him up, seeing who he truly was.

As she talked fake stories of their blinding romance, about how he was such an incredible boyfriend, you just rolled your eyes in the audience. The only time Ben spent with Crimson outside of the public eye was when he was balls deep inside of her. And, even then, he liked to say she was a terrible fuck.

He also liked to say you were a good fuck. It was his favourite compliment; as funny was that was. As he railed you against his mattress, his hands keeping you firmly where he wanted you, he muttered praises.

That was different to the Ben the other women got. He’d degrade them: call them every name under the sun as he practically broke their pelvises. With you, sure, he was rough, but he complimented you; whispering and grunting softly, making sure you felt pretty and loved as he violently fucked you into unconsciousness.

And he always made sure you were okay afterwards. Ben giving aftercare was not something you’d expected, but he was damn good at making you feel safe and secure. He was a man of many talents.

The country was honouring him, as you begged for any kind of rational answer from Payback, from Edgar, from Vought. You were close to falling to your knees and pleading. But they didn’t care. Too busy basking in the boost of popularity that came from Ben’s death.

So, they upped their game.

And, when Vought erected a statue of Ben outside of Vought Tower, you threw up in the bathroom. The night you were named the new leader of Payback, you threw up again.

Apparently, it’s what Ben wanted. Which was bullshit. He wanted you in his kitchen with a dinner plate (lovingly, he’d told you that night. How could something like that be a compliment? You didn’t know, but it was Ben, so you guessed it was possible). But, you couldn’t fight it. So, nearly exactly three months after the last night you saw him, you took his place.

It felt wrong, and disrespectful, and you were lost and out of place. You had no knowledge on how to lead a team of asshole supes, that didn’t respect you or really like you that much.

Ben did this so easily. He lead Payback like a natural born leader. You lead like a baby giraffe learning to walk.

But you did it anyway.

“Soldier Boy was a national icon.” You held the microphone with shaking hands, willing them to stop, staring out at the gathering of civilians. It was wrong; America was mourning a death they’d all been lied to about. You swallowed your bile and pushed on. “And I am honoured to be taking his place as the leader of our brave and dedicated superhero team, Payback. I will be leading in his image, and his honour, and I hope that my work would make him proud.”

It was all bullshit.

You hadn’t written a word of this shit.

Edgar had shoved it into your hands and pointed you onto the stage. No warning. No cooperation. No opinion. Just… here you go, now go put on a show.

But, the audience was eating it up, and Edgar and your PA were giving you a thumbs up from backstage. They liked your performance. Ben, however, would be gagging in his mouth hearing this. He’d probably mock you, and claim you’d be better off just blowing his dick. He’d be right. Every word that was coming out of your mouth was corporate propaganda.

Your hands curled tighter around the microphones, knuckles whitening. You didn’t want to be here. You wanted to be home, as far away from Vought and these grieving people as fast as possible. “Soldier Boy was a respected, beloved hero, within your hearts, and Vought’s.” God, what cliche, sappy horseshit. “He was a good man, who lost his life saving millions.” You held back your scoff. “Vought will forever live in his shadow. We ask that you give us time and space to grieve our loss. Thank you.”

The audience applauded, loud and roaring, as you walked off stage.

The rage bubbling up in your chest was ready to burst, overflowing. This was all fucking sickening. No one was telling you anything. And they expected you to get on stage and do these speeches? To sit, cry and look pretty as you grieved the mighty Soldier Boy?

Fuck that. You were going to get answers.

There was some dark shit happening behind the scenes, and it had Vought’s grubby handprints all over it. The cover story. Payback’s silence. Edgar’s lack of care. None of it was adding up.

The moment the audience could no longer see it, your mouth curled to a scowl, heels clicking as you stormed up to Edgar. You were going to get answers, even if you had to physically get them. You’d find out what happened to Ben in Nicaragua, even if it cost you your head.

Stan Edgar, despite knowing he was now on the receiving end of your anger, stood tall. Cocky bastard. You could kill him with ease. But, of course, he didn’t care. There was only one person you’d ever seen Edgar cower from — Ben. To be fair with the guy, though, anyone would cower if Soldier Boy was screaming at you, inches from your face.

“What is going on?” Despite your rage, you kept your voice to a low hiss, not wanting to attract attention to your anger and frustration. “Can someone fucking explain to me, what is happening?” He began to walk away, and you followed. your words still flying out. “Why am I taking Ben’s place? How did he even die? You were in Nicaragua — what happened? Why did it take you so long to come up with that shitty reactor meltdown story?”

He turned to face you. You abruptly stopped, almost smashing into his chest with the suddenness of it, taking a stumbling step backwards. “I understand you’re upset.” You rolled your eyes at his professional tone, hands linked behind his back. Typical. “But I cannot answer those questions.”

“No, I deserve to know” You demanded. It was a losing battle, and you already knew that, but it doesn’t mean you wouldn’t try your hardest. “What. Happened?”

You weren’t getting an answer from Edgar. And that became clear when he turned his back to you, engaging in a conversation with his secretary, and leaving you in the dust. Glaring at the back of his head, you muttered obscenities.

If you weren’t getting it from Edgar’s lips, you’d get it another way.

Namely, breaking into his office that evening.

━━━━━━ ✦ ━━━━━━

Now, you weren’t a seasoned criminal, but Ben had taught you a thing or two. He was, very much, a criminal, and knew things you were never too curious to ask about. Like picking locks. Which was the most normal of his odd knowledge. (The fact that man has known the recipe to make a bomb was… terrifying.)

Picking a lock wasn’t in your expertise, but you remembered enough from what he’d shown you. Enough to kneel down in front of Edgar’s office door, and use a bobby pin to turn the lock until it clicked.

You grinned, internally thanking Ben for his… strange teaching techniques. Glancing down the hallway, both ways, you ensured it was empty; that no one was about to see you going against every rule in the book. Once it was cleared, you slipped inside the door with practiced ease, and shut the door behind you.

The sun was setting over the horizon — the golden hour hue lighting up the room enough for you to make your way over to Edgar’s shelves. You were determined to find something. Anything.

Something was going on. Something sketchier than Vought’s usual dirty work. And you were going to figure it out.

Your index finger skimmed the folders, peeking at the names. Until you found Ben’s — a cream folder with ‘SOLDIER BOY’ written across the front. Pulling it out, your eyes locked onto the bright red ‘DECEASED’ stamped under his name, your heart squeezing.

Swallowing thickly, uncertain, you flipped it open. Reasons over the contents, your eyes narrowed in concentration and then narrowed further in frustration.

It was nothing you didn’t already know. His past. The human trial experiment. Comp V. Ben had already told you all of this.

You glared at the deceased marker on the front of it, and then slid the folder back into the right spot. Alphabetical order, you noticed. You continued flicking through the files, trying to find something that could be labelled as suspicious.

Your ears perked at the sound of sudden buzzing from across the room. Like a dog to a squeaky toy, you rushed over, watching a piece of paper print out of the fax machine.

You snatched it up the moment it came out.

BCL-RED was the title word.

What the fuck was that?

You’d never heard of it before. It had to be an acronym, but your mind came up blank, as you racked it for any familiarity. Cursing internally, you scowled — damn fucking code words.

Before you could read ahead, a voice floated into the office from outside.

“Shit.” You hissed under your breath, suddenly very panicked. Returning the paper to the machine, you dashed for the door, poking your head out just enough to peek down the hall. You spotted Edgar just a ways down, facing away from you, talking to Black Noir. Quickly and silently, with expertise learnt on the field, you crept out of the office, taking off down the hallway in the opposite direction.

All the way back to your room, you muttered the words to yourself.

BCL-RED.

… BCL-RED.

━━━━━━ ✦ ━━━━━━

It wasn’t in any folders documents anywhere. Not even your PA knew what a BCL-RED was.

You felt like a dog chasing its tail. Going in circles, trying to find any clues as to what happened to Ben. Every day your suspicions rose. Something wasn’t right. Edgar was having hushed conversations. Payback was having meetings that excluded you.

Your trail lead you to Grace Mallory.

The young woman handed you a cup of coffee, hands scarred and calloused from her days at war. Quietly, you thanked her, sat comfortably on her sofa, cradling the coffee. “I have to respect your strength. Putting up with Soldier Boy every day.”

You cracked a smile, sipping the steaming coffee. “He was a… acquired taste.” Your laugh was breathy and quiet, thinking back to Ben and his unique personality. “What happened in Nicaragua?”

Grace sighed as she settled back. She was pretty. No doubt Ben tried to get in her pants while he was there. “It happened quickly.” Your brows furrowed, sitting forward, elbows on your knees. “We were ambushed. Your team couldn’t find their guns from their asses.”

“Sounds about right.” You murmured. “I told Ben he needed me out there. The stubborn dick wouldn’t listen. Looks like it bit him in the ass, eh?”

“Big time.” Grace agreed. “There was an explosion. It knocked me out.” You listened attentively, frequently sipping the coffee. “When I came to… your team were in ruins. Half of ‘em were dead, the other half injured.”

You chewed your lips for a few beats. “Black Noir still hasn’t recovered. Doctors said he’ll never be able to talk again.”

Solemn, she nodded. “Not surprised. His face was more hole than it was skin.” You grimaced at the imagery. “Crimson Countess told me Soldier Boy was dead. He’d been killed by some… laser, his body taken by a helicopter.”

“And that’s it?”

“That’s it.”

You sat back. “Huh.” You murmured. “She’s lying.” You decided. The story wasn’t right. Sure, it was feasible, under different circumstances. But, in battle? When Ben was on his A-game? No way.

Grace looked confused. After all, why would Crimson lie about something like that?

You didn’t know.

But you were going to fucking find out.

━━━━━━ ✦ ━━━━━━

That night, you didn’t return to your room. Instead, you slipped into Ben’s in the dead of night. It hadn’t been touched since he left for Nicaragua. Since he’d railed you against the mattress and left you bed-bound for two days.

The air was musty, with dust covering each surface. Crawling onto the bed, you tugged open the curtains, letting sunlight in for the first time in months.

Every surface was covered in dust. And there were still drugs laid about. Half snorted lines of cocaine on the coffee table. Empty pill bottles decorating the floor. An ash tray that reeked of marijuana. God, this man had been like a teenage boy.

Flicking on the light, you gathered your bravery, and spent a few hours cleaning his room up. You didn’t know why. Maybe you wanted to feel closer to him. Feel like you were doing something for him. Ben hated it when things were messy. And he loved it when you cleaned up after him. You hated feeding into that old, sexist mindset he had.

But, god, you’d do anything right now to hear him demand you fetch him a drink.

After you cleaned his room, you stripped his sheets, gagging at the old stain. Definitely your cum. And his. Gross. You stuffed it into a basket, kicking it away from you.

Okay… remember to not touch that again without gloves.

As you finished the last, final touches, a glint of metal on his bedside table caught your attention. Curious, you padded over, expecting a pistol.

Instead, you found a chain.

Your heart leapt into your throat. Delicately, you placed the necklace in the palm of your hand, brushing your thumb over the metal surface.

His WW2 dog tags.

Swallowing thickly, you blinked back your emotion. Why the fuck were even so sad? You weren’t even dating the man. Sure, you’d been his friend for years. You’d been protecting him. He’d been protecting you. You’d been his right-hand man practically.

But, still!

With a lump in your throat, you carefully placed the dog tags over your head. The dog tags were cold against your chest. You tucked them under your shirt, inhaling shakily.

With one last look around the room, you turned around and walked out, with a basket of laundry balanced on your hip.

You weren’t going to rest until you found out the truth. That was for sure.

A/N: sorry for the lack of soldier boy in this chap :( he makes his grand return next chapter !!! in all his sexist glory lmao. he’s so fun to write, tho i do feel like a horrible person writing some of the shit he says. definitely fun to explore this universe and all its fucked up possibilities. thank you guys for the support on chap one :’) <3 next chap will also be longer promise

banners in use by @cafekitsune

TAGLIST: @onlyangel-444 @deans-spinster-witch @fumolemon @anundyingfidelity @mostlymarvelgirl @aaronhotchnerlover @delaynew @let-me-luve-you @yvonneeeee @livsh20 @thej2report @lostin-jensenseyes

#soldier boy #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x female reader #the boys #the boys tv #jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #half of me

[lightlycareless]

omgggg, that Toji x reader (*plus* Naoya) was incredibleee, ignore me if you want, I know you made Toji chosing to keep distance from reader and Megumi permanently BUT what if one day he ends up finally seeing Megumi, either personally or by pictures/videos 🥺 We know Megumi it's the spitted image of him, I mean, Gojo's face when he saw him for the first time said it all 😅 And also knowing his baby has the Ten Shadows technique (I cant stop thinking about how proud he was in the canon manga/anime 🥺 he always KNEW from the start Megumi was blessed/gifted, since his first breath, the fact Toji named him is not random) making the entire Zenin clan eat their shit

Heya anon!!

I'm so glad you liked it heheheheheheh a oneshot that I didn't intend to write but it just happened!! aren't we glad it did? lol

I didn't mean to ignore you, I was only focusing on other things first 😅 oof, I still have lots of request to go through, which I plan to do it slowly but surely...

Anyways, I might've not gone down that route, however... why not something angsty? I mean 😏I've had this in my mind so... yeah 😏😏😏😏😏😏😏

Warnings: mentions of infidelity. Pregnancy. Naoya is, unfortunately, a prick. this is the oneshot anon is talking about. 100% read that first hehe. this is an AU from that, so the second part doesn't count??? I guess. excuse the proofreading. also I haven't written toji that much so please excuse my oocness as well ahahahahha :')

Happy reading!

As much as the three hoped to ignore the bases of your pregnancy, behave as it didn’t rise from an adulterous act, a direct transgression to the principles of the Zen’in, and keep it a secret, it wouldn’t take long before the guilt in each other’s mind began to weight heavy on their mind, ultimately betraying them and revealing the truth to the light, excusing the angered elders to finally get rid of two birds with one stone.

“Where—Where does this accusation even come from?!” You gasp, blood turning cold at the implication—at the notion of the truth. “Do you know the gravity of such words?!”

“Better than you of the act, it seems.” Another accuses. “We were quite aware of the rumors surrounding your ill-fitting behavior, but we never believed it would actually extend to this point!”

“I—I won’t tolerate neither of you disrespecting me!” you cry. “Nor will Naoya for that matter!”

But calling for his aid would no longer prove sufficient, for Naoya, too deep in his own insecurities by that point, had come to the disheartening conclusion that this situation had gotten way out of hand for a simple diversion.

A supposed act of mercy.

He shouldn’t have let this happen in the first place, should’ve respected what you and your marriage represented, what meant to him, and discard his pity for Toji—the man has been alone most of his life, what difference would that make that now?

But he didn’t, he allowed you to go to Toji—no, he handed you over to him, thinking he was doing something right for his cousin, or perhaps something deep inside him was allured by the sick idea of you being with another man and now, he was suffering the consequences.

Consequences he did not like, not one bit—because it got too real for him: you were now pregnant, with Toji’s child, and not his.

And this only highlighted what he considered the pitfalls of this relationship, a strike against his ego and the supposed inability to beget children, a rumor that grew bigger and bigger by each passing day, spreading like wildfire to the point where even outsiders became aware of it.

Which, for a prideful man like Naoya, was only a nightmare.

He loved you, he really did—Naoya never envisioned spending the rest of his life with anyone else…

But he loved his pride more, and when his clan began to actively confront him about it, he couldn’t take it anymore.

And thus….

“…Naoya?”

“This marriage was broken before it even started.” Your husband would say, unexpected words that pierced straight to your heart. “My family advised me well in avoiding you, but I falsely believed I could achieve differently.”

“What—what are you even saying?” you breathe. “What do you mean by—by differently?”

And… where does everything you lived with him stand?

The time you spent with him, the sweet nothings he’d whisper into your ear, to love you both swore to one another, reminding each other that there was no one else that compares…

And that you were the only woman who has ever made him feel this way—loved— and would do everything in the world to make happy…

Was it… all … a lie?

All for… nothing?

Or were you the only one that actually believed the other’s words?

“I cannot look past these transgressions.” Naoya continues. “You’ve left me no choice.”

“But you—you made me do this!” you gasp. “I never—I never wanted to be with anyone else! All this time, my heart only belonged to you!  How could you—how could you abandon me after all we’ve gone through together?!”

Naoya doesn’t say anything else anymore, instead, he simply turns around, exiting the room to leave you in the hands of the vengeful elders who did not hesitate to do what they had long desired—banish you from the estate.

Swiftly yet cruelly, you wouldn’t be able to take anything with you, not even a change of clothes or even money (you didn’t even ask for much, just enough to survive the week) as you were forced to face a new life of your own—alone, pregnant.

Going back to your family was also out of the question; the shame that you’d bring upon their name was one the Zen’in didn’t not waste time to remind them of—at the end, there was only so much your father and siblings could do against the invasive ways of the elders, and perhaps, a part of them deep inside, were also disappointed that you’ve succumbed to such foul thing.

And so, you were tossed onto the street, with nothing more than the clothes you were wearing, whatever you had for savings throughout the years, managed to take it out before either clan could close your account—but most importantly, with a broken heart you believe will never heal, not after the grave wound your husband’s indifference inflicted on it.

The pain you couldn’t even mourn properly due to all the things you had to worry about now.

The first thing you did was search for a place to stay, though getting one was proving to be an almost impossible task.

Thankfully, you were allowed to keep one other thing, maybe it eluded their minds when all this was happening, but you’re not going to question why when it was going to help you pay for a roof.

Naoya’s ring, your wedding ring, was something many would consider expensive, the kind of flashiness expected from a prestigious family like the Zen’in.

You remember a time when any kind of ring would’ve been enough for you to marry him. You didn’t need anything extraordinary to commit your life and heart to him.

That’s nothing but a far cry from what you felt now.

It still hurt to pawn it, but it was the only way you could accommodate yourself and the unborn child inside you, in the only area you could afford with what you got, for even then many suspected that your ring… well, had dubious origins.

When was the last time you even had to worry about the costs of living? Food, clothes, water…?

Many years—it had to; ever since you got together with Naoya, he’s been the one that took care of you.

You just had to say the word and he’d disappear all of your worries—even from the simplest of wants, Naoya indulgingly obliged.

It was a happy life you eventually considered for your child—imagining how happy they’d grow to be without a single worry, solely focusing on what they’ll have to play that day, or how to escape their over doting parents.

A long-gone dream, tossed to the side as a nightmare quickly took its place.

…

Did Naoya ever mean the words I love you?

Or was he doing all this just to keep you there, complying, just in case someone better came along, just like his clan wished would happen?

There mere thought of his devotion being nothing but an act tightens your heart with sorrow once more, gifting you the tragic notion that perhaps, all this time, you never knew your husband…

Maybe ex-husband, by this point.

All that was left from those moments, the slightest semblance of that marriage was this baby, created from what you thought your unconditional devotion to him, turning out to be your very own downfall.

The only one that would know of these struggles would be your baby, the one to accompany you through the darkest point of your life, hopefully to a brigther dawn.

And yet… you’ve never felt so alone.

Time surprisingly, went quicker than you anticipated, though not as easy as you would’ve wanted.

Life in your new home was still very difficult to get used to, even when it’s been months since… that.

But with the job you managed to get (whatever place hired pregnant women—they’re supposed to be at home, some would say, you didn’t care.) and some extra jujutsu work you did on the side, you managed, enough to give you a, not exactly comfortable, but just enough lifestyle.

As long as you sacrificed all the things you once considered granted and turned them into luxuries: such as warm showers, take out, and the sweets you liked to indulge once in a while; your pregnancy has been horrible because of that, and that’s without considering the medical bills you’re struggling to pay as well.

But if that wasn’t enough, your noisy neighbors presented issues of their own as well.

You’re not going to deny that your presence there was like moths to a flame, starting from your somewhat suspicious acquisition—all cash—of the small house you were living in.

From there, your loneliness, alongside your pregnancy; single mothers were unheard of, or rather, highly criticized, thus, all eyes were on you, down to your smallest movement.

Yet, even then, as annoying as they were, you were ok as long as it meant you never get to see those that hurt you ever again.

However, what you want isn’t necessarily what’s going to happen, and that would be reminded of one fateful night with an unsuspecting knock, just after you were getting ready to go to bed.

It wouldn’t be the first time someone came to bother you, but it would be the first time someone did so at this hour, and with such insistence that far from worrying you, it made you angrily storm at the entrance, ready to demand who’d be so inconsiderate enough to visit you so late at night!

And you’d get your answer soon enough, in the most shocking, horrifying, if not sorrowful manner you could’ve possibly anticipated, prompting you to close the door as soon as you saw his face, or attempted to, his reflexes much faster than yours.

“Get—get away from me!” you shrieked, hands trembling as you did your best to hold the door shut against his overwhelming strength— but even your husband has admitted that in terms of power, he excels like no one else.

“Y/N—” he breathes, somewhat amused that you’d been able to hold him off as much as you could, though eventually he was able to break free from your grasp and enter your home, you step away from him soon after.

“What are you even doing here?!” you gasp. “No—that doesn’t matter! I don’t want to see you! I’m not going back!”

“I’m not here to take you back” He quickly responds, eyes falling down to your stomach, making his face soften at the subtle bump evident through your clothes—with this sight, he knows he can’t take you back.

“Then—then why are you here, Toji?”

Perhaps Toji needed to see through his own eyes, what the whispers went on about at the estate regarding your absence.

He wasn’t there when it happened, promised himself to be far away from you as soon as your pregnancy was announced to the estate.

Toji would’ve normally taken this opportunity to act on retribution against his family, rub it on their face that the future of the clan came from him, a low life.

But he couldn’t bring himself to do so when you cheerfully paraded around the halls, happy to finally be forming a family with your beloved husband, even though it wasn’t of his making.

For the first time in his life, he thought himself to be too cruel for having planned such atrocities against the only person that has never been rude with him, always welcoming him with a smile on your face, or at least whatever you permitted when not following Naoya around like a lost puppy.

And the baby… well, he won’t deny that he was glad that his child would have a vastly different life from his—with you as his mother, it couldn’t be any other way.

Or so he believed.

Even when promising to keep away, he still attempted to check in on you, especially now that you were pregnant, whenever he had to go to the estate that is. That day was no be no exception, begrudgingly coming back to see what else he could scam out of his family to ensure his living outside.

Toji’s slyly scanned the hallways for your figure, the briefest indication of such, either through your giggle, staff, or even his cousin’s annoying voice—there were moments where he imagined how delightful it must’ve been to have you by his side, instead of Naoya’s; to be receiver of your laughter instead of that man who clearly didn’t deserve you.

But even if it was with him, he still found comfort in the fact that you were around, there.

Not like now, gone from Naoya’s side.

In fact, you were nowhere to be seen! Not with your staff, not eating by the gardens, or even indulging in one of your husband’s idiocies.

Nothing.

And no one had seen you either.

Or more like didn’t want to say, that much became evident when he stomped his way towards a nearby staff member, demanding your whereabouts, only to be responded with a fret falsely feigning ignorance, or foolish diplomacy.

At the prospect of your disappearance, Toji felt his blood run cold, almost like the estate lost whatever little warmth it had, worsening each time he asked another servant, and he’d get the same answer.

The implications behind your absence were growing heavier in his mind, to the point it sunk his heart to his stomach…

And propelled him to the one person who would undoubtedly know where you were.

“Naoya—Where is Y/N?!” Toji commands the moment he sees the heir, the young man instinctively flinched at the sight of his angered cousin, almost as if he knew what was running through his mind and attempted to make a run for it, only to be stopped by the collar, dead on his tracks. “Do not run away, coward! Answer me!”

“She’s—she’s not here anymore.” Is what Naoya manages to squeak, but Toji doesn’t need to be reminded the obvious.

“Where. Is. She.” He hisses, the worst of his assumptions slowly becoming a reality. “What have you done to her?!”

“What—what needed to be done!” Naoya gasps. “I—I couldn’t allow it!”

Toji doesn’t remember much after Naoya told him that the clan decided she was better off on her own—only that the heir was on the floor, bloodied and whimpering while attempting to cover his face, either trying to control the throbbing of his skin, the blood from spilling anywhere else, or perhaps even shame.

No. It couldn’t be the last. To have done something like what he did required a shameless man to do so.

Nonetheless Toji didn’t bother to find out nor to be reprimanded, quick to assert what needed to be done and heading out the estate; he couldn’t even bother cursing those that had done nothing but the worst after the worst, each time a new low, for his mind solely pertained in finding you.

It took him a while to do so, as expected, but he knew it was only a matter of asking around for a woman that simply didn’t fit to do the job—and such, here he is now.

“I want—needed to see you.” Toji takes a step closer.

“Get—get away from me.”

“No, I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

“You were fine doing that before—what’s so different from now?” You spat.

“This is different, Y/N. You’re alone—and you need me.”

“I’m not alone—I don’t need you.” You gasp. “Get away from me or I’ll—I’ll call the police!.”

“If you don’t need me, then the baby does.”

It’s like he struck a nerve with his words, because soon after tears would begin to fall down your cheeks, revealing that the sight you attempted to portray, the strength you so fiercely put up against him, was nothing but a façade, a way to hide the fact that indeed, you needed help.

Exhausted from facing all these uncertainties on your own, afraid.

But not anymore, not when Toji was here, more than willing to step in, as seen in the way he swiftly holds you in his arms when he sees you almost faint from distress, attempting to comfort you as you continued to cry.

“Get— get away from me…!” you’d say again, still fighting against his hold. However, he doesn’t fight it, he simply allows you to vent, taking in all the pain and hatred your heart harbored from the moment you were kicked out of the estate. “Don’t touch me!”

“I’m not leaving” Toji insists, he feels you trying to squirm your way out from him, but his strength doesn’t allow it. “You can struggle all you want, but I’m not leaving you on your own—”

“What difference does it make to you? Your family abandoned me to my luck! And even forced my family to do the same!” you breathe, Toji’s eyes widen—he did not know that; his fury for the Zen’in grows, but this is not the time to deal with that. “They don’t care if I die on the street!”

“I know.” He murmurs, holding you tighter against him.

“And I—And I tried my best to—to move on, but I can’t! I can’t do it!” you sob. “I’m so alone, and scared, and—and ashamed! I don’t want to live like this anymore!! I don’t want to die!”

“…I know.”

“Why—why is this happening to me?! All I ever wanted was for—was for Naoya to love me. I never wanted anything else! I never wanted money, I never wanted to hurt anyone either! I just—I just wanted to live a happy life with him, to make him happy!

But then he—he tossed me away, at one thing he didn’t like, he acted like I didn’t even matter! He didn’t even put up a fight to defend me! he just—he just let them hurt me, like what we had was—a lie!

 Did he never—did he even love me?”

Speechless, all Toji could do is continue holding you as you kept on pouring out your feelings, hearing the heart wrenching sound of your sobs that just kept reflecting how wounded you were by Naoya’s betrayal, the transgressions of his family, and the disappointment of yours.

And all because of something you didn’t even suggest in the first place. It was him who made his way into Naoya’s mind, and eventually, it was Naoya who pushed you into it, regardless of what happened later.

He wanted to do it; you know?

He wanted to go back there and murder them for all they’d done against you.

But when he left that place one last time, he promised he would stop thinking about himself, and start doing what is right—what was needed.

If Naoya wasn’t to step up and be a man, then he would.

Toji would gladly throw away his own pride, his own anger and thirst for vengeance, just to see you safe and happy once more.

Things your husband, could simply not—but he… he’d do it in a heartbeat.

“I promise you.” Toji would reassure you once carefully placing you down to the bed after tiring yourself from crying, followed by a gentle kiss on the top of your head.

 “I swear, Y/N— I will not let my family do the same things they’ve done to me to our child. Even if it costs me my life, I will do everything in my power to keep the two of you safe.”

And unlike your husband, he means it.

Yes, a second part is coming :) just gotta put this one out first hehe.

Anyways, it's not exactly what you asked but I think it's going there??? I mean Toji STEPPED UP and was like OK imma take care of my baby mama. also, here Naoya .I. put it where it fits. ugh, can't say we're done with him...

agihajkgksa I'm excited for what's to come, I haven't written this level of angst in a while!! oof!!!

Thank you so much for your patience and for sending this ask :> I'm super happy you've like my oneshot so much!! I hope you'll be able to like this too!!

Take care, and see you soon! ❤️❤️

#ask #toji x reader #jjk toji #naoya x reader #naoya zen'in #toji fic #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x you #jjk angst #toji zenin #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x you #toji x y/n #prompt series: jujutsu kaisen

[plumadot]

hello on discord i have an injoke with some friends where i never say grian's name and always use an emoji called :grian: that's just his face. anyway i was like "what if i typo it as :grain:" so anyway that's where the second image comes in

idk you just seem like a cool person and i wanted to send in an ask but didn't know what to say so here take a story

hdghfvhfvgf hi hello is grain ok and can you tell him i care him very much omg

(thank you bfvhfvd that's so cute help <3)

#ask

[winterspiderpurrs]

Bucky was just exiting the debrief room after returning from a mission with Sam when he spotted Tony and Steve talking to each other. They were both looking at what Bucky recalls is an ipad, swiping images across the screen. Steve nodded along as Tony rattled on. Tony glances up when he enters the room and waves him over.

" First, I'm still going to do what I want. But what do you think of Peter getting his own place?"

Bucky blinks, looks at Steve, and then back at Tony.

" He likes living with May for the most part. He already has an apartment you set up for him in the tower, as well as a room at the compound and your lake house. Plus, if he isn't there, he visits Ned"

Steve nods and points to the ipad,

" and he seems like a fella who wouldn't want you to buy him a duplex. In Queens or not."

" He is in college. He needs privacy, especially with the Spideymonkey gig he still insisted on doing."

Steve and Bucky move to look at each other. They know what Tony isn't saying. That Peter needs a place he could bring someone back to.

" Just talk to the guy and see if he wants that."

Steve squints for a moment at Bucky when he says that.

**RING RIIINNNNGGGG RIIIIIINNNNNNNGGGGGG**

Bucky pulls his phone out of his pocket and looks at the screen. It's Peter calling.

Tony, being Tony, looks over and notices as well who is calling. It doesn't even pass through his mind why Peter would be calling Bucky.

" Oh hey, let me talk to him," states Tony and he reaches for the phone.

Bucky was already in the process of answering and was moving the phone out of reach. In those few moments, the phone accidentally went to speaker mode.

" No hey its my phone."

" Just let me see it I paid for it"

Bucky ends up clenching the phone too hard in his metal hand and ends up muting the phone, but the speaker is still on.

Peter's voice comes through.

" Hello? That's some weird voice-mail message you got there. I'll help you set up a good one later. Anyway, you're probably in your debrief still. " heavy sigh could be heard, and the faint breeze of Peter probably swinging on his webs.

" I'm just now done with patrol. I've had a shit day of finals, and I smell like a dumpster cause I fell into a dumpster after I got stabbed. "

There was a pause before he quickly said," but don't worry, it's already healed, but yeah shitty night. I haven't slept since yesterday. So I'm gonna be exhausted when you get in. But I ordered some chinese for us, swinging to pick it up now, but it should still be warm by the time you get home. I apologize in advance if I have already passed out in bed when you get in. But I promise you amazing welcome back home morning sex. And I'll fix those waffles you like. But remember we are going to May's later for Passover since we couldn't yesterday. On Friday, we were invited over to the XMansion to celebrate there unless something else doesn't come up. But yeah, I'm rambling."

He sighs a little." I missed you. I'll see you at home in a bit. Love you, " you hear some rustling." Hey Miss Jenny, " "I got you extra egg rolls. " " Aweso-" the phone hangs up.

Everyone is staring down at the phone before Steve and Tony turn to look at Bucky.

Tony had no clue when Peter and Bucky would have gotten together and is now trying to piece together instances that should have stood out.

Steve, though, he was starting the suspect for a while now. The few times he visited Bucky's apartment, he noticed differences. The apartment seemed lived in compared to before. House plants, a video game console, a vast collection of movies that showed up on bookcases along with more photos and just more personal touches.

"Well. Looks like I need to get home. Don't call me"

Bucky tucks the broken phone back in his pocket before he quickly leaves.

Steve eyes Tony warily.

" But... no. When did the terminator get with my kid?"

"He isn't a kid anymore he is 22"

" Zip it, capsicle! "

#writing prompt #winterspider #peter parker x bucky barnes #winterspiderpurrs

[enderham]

Some Aventurine headcenons:

- He can't swim properly (never got to learn)

- He has a lot of plants and hires someone to take care of them when he's away. His place looks like a jungle and his balcony is overflowing with them, that's where he spends most of his time when he's in Pier Point. (If there's a cold season in Pier Point his balcony has a sliding glass window that turns it into a greenhouse)

- Thankfully offset by the plants, the rest of his IPC accommodation is just as gaudy and luxurious as his outfits. It's somewhat eclectic because he chooses decorations by process of 'ooh shiny/cool' but there's a clear preference for art nouveu and art deco even though he probably wouldn't know that's what it's called.(He likes the interior design of the reverie but doesn't know why) It's in a luxury apartment block and he had to finesse his way through the chain of command to get it approved for him.

- He genuinely likes green, it's not just cause of his stone(he's wearing the wrong shade anyway) (yeah, the plants)

- He'd wear a lot of colour and jewelry even if he weren't "rich" or maintaining an image(based on the splashes of colour on little Kakavasha's Avgin clothes)

- He doesn't have an actual birthday on file. It's logged as the day the IPC "acquired" him. The only reason he knows the standard system date is because of the massacre. The Avgin calendar is different from the standard system one, so the documentation of the Katican attack was his only way of finding out. Since finding out, all he does on his birthday is burn a Knot of Cyclicality and say a prayer. He's no longer sure if it matches up with the Avgin calendar's Kakava.

- Since he gives out money like it grows on trees and I can imagine his project plans are fairly fluid that would mean that so are his budgets too. It makes me wonder if he's got money on off-shore accounts someplace in the galaxy the IPC hasn't reached yet.

-Converseley, the jewelry he's wearing could be his final asset. I can imagine that watch to be worth at least enough to sustain one person for a year(especially on worlds with a lower cost of living). The bracelets could buy you a vehicle and his other accessories are pocket money, all in case he's gotta run.

-He can drive and he wants to learn how to pilot a ship but the IPC is barring him

-He'd never sell the earring tho

-He also carries his family's heirlooms (the shirt, necklace and charm) everywhere he travels, also in case he has to run. I believe only the most dire of circumstances would stop him from retrieving them. (I also think the charm is the earring so these two are basically the same headcanon)

- Back to the swimming, he's both afraid of submerging his head under water(having to play dead in a pool of blood, probably thinking you'll drown in it does that to a kid) and drawn to large bodies of water.

-His gloves conceal scars on his hands from the chains he had to use as a "tool"

#wow this got worse as it went didn't it #that was not my intention at all lmao #ok ill warn for #canon typical violence #aventurine #honkai star rail #hsr aventurine #hsr

[tomieafterdark]

Catboy Eren drabble

cw: afab!reader, dom!eren, 18+ dni if u are a minor

I am gonna be honest, this is so unserious I don't know what possessed me to actually write it and hit poster prob should have stayed in the drafts. Anyways, it is inspired by the same person that inspired this fic because he has a catlike aura.

not proofread also click here for more content

You always thought Eren had this "grumpy cat" aura to him, and you never stopped reminding him about it. In fact, you had tried to make him say "meow" or use a catboy image as his profile picture several times, but all you were met with was him ignoring it or telling you it will never happen.

Everything he said seemed to go in one ear and out of the other, because one day when hanging out with him you decided it would be a good idea to bring cat ears and try to put them on him.

And you did. Eventually.

As if his death glare had not been enough, you just had to blurt out that he looks like a submissive catboy. 

And that is how you ended up in this lovely situation.

"E-eren slow down!" You whined.

"Shut the fuck up." he hissed in irritation, pushing your head further down into the pillow. 

Tears rolled down your cheeks as Eren was stretching you open more and more with every thrust, as if the position he had you in wasn’t painful enough he went in with almost no prep. Adjusting to his size was quite the challenge.

He loved watching your hole swallow his cock whole, but what he loved even more was the way you reacted to how deep he went inside of you. He could tell that none of your previous sexual partners had ever touched your cervix with their tip, nor had they stretched you so good that it feels like your first time all over again. 

He kept his eyes locked on you as he fastened his pace. Your whimpering grew louder and clearer even though your face was buried in the pillow, your cries were actual music to his ears. He needed to hear them more clearly. 

He suddenly slips it out, you are too fucked out to notice it at first, still arching. But next thing you know he is sitting next to you on the bed and leaning against the headboard. 

“Get up y/n, I want you on top.” He commands coldly, his intimidating gaze not leaving you for a second.

You get up slowly, feeling a mix of pain and pleasure between your legs. You suddenly notice he forgot to take off the cat ears you had put on him earlier, it is very hard to not giggle but you manage to somehow muster up enough self control to keep quiet. You slowly move over to him, it is impossible to not stare at his face because of the cat ears. He looks so good with them on, and surprisingly not submissive. However the “grumpy cat” energy remains, and he looks even more annoyed now because you are taking way too long getting on top of him. Somehow he comes to the conclusion that you are being nervous because of his size but you are just in awe of how good he looks with cat ears on, you haven’t even glanced at his dick yet. 

“Y/n, if you are scared of the size just say that. I can assist.” He mutters, seeming less annoyed and almost concerned now. 

“Huh?” You look at him in confusion, but the dots soon connect. You are about to protest, but the way he suddenly became all attentive and kind of careful made you feel some type of way and you don't mind this going on for a bit longer. 

He starts fingering you and the sudden intrusion makes you hiss but he quickly shuts you up with a kiss. You manage to take a quick glance at his cock amidst all the kissing and moaning and you feel the knot in your stomach. It is a strange mix of fear, excitement and doom. How would all that fit inside you? 

All the mixed emotions and his skilled fingers bring you closer and closer to climax, he is aware of it by the way you are squeezing around his fingers and moaning louder and louder into the kiss. He stops right before you cum, you feel so close and you are so desperate that without even thinking, you quickly bring your left hand between your legs. 

“Not so fast.” Your wrist is suddenly burning from the iron grip he has on it and the more you pull away the harder he grips. You whine and pout in frustration, not even looking at him directly and still looking for a way to reach your high. You are really starting to lose patience. 

He grabs your lower face, making you look up at him. “If you want to cum, you will do it on my cock. Got it?” His stern voice and cold stare anchor you back to reality, and all you can do is nod. 

He doesn't waste another second, grabbing you by the waist making you straddle him. You instinctively hold on to him, and he does the same to you, just he does it for a completely different reason. You held on to his shoulders because a part of you feels safe around him, while he grabbed your hips out of impatience and to teach you a lesson for putting cat ears on him. 

You try to wriggle yourself out of his tight grip a bit, usually when you are on top like this you are the one controlling the pace and taking on a more dominant role but this is nothing like that. Instead, he slowly lowers you down on it and you gasp hard even though only the tip is in. 

Truth be told, he is resisting the urge to slam you down on it and teach you a very hard lesson, but ever since he noticed you have not had anyone his size before he has been taking his time with you. No, not because he cares, he just thinks your reactions are hilarious. You went from “annoying and cocky asking him to meow for you” to “crying little mess that does not know what to do with herself every time he thrusts” very quickly.  

He watches you intensely, you avoid looking into his eyes, it makes you feel like prey and as if his darkness is about to eat you alive even though he still has the cat ears on. The more he lowers you down on his cock, the more you are starting to believe you will feel it in your guts. He lowers you down very slowly and it gives a whole new meaning to “feeling every inch of him”. 

Your mind is going a bit blank, all you can repeat is “it is so big” and “I feel so full” inside your head. On the outside you are just biting your cheek trying to not burst out in tears like you did earlier. It feels different when your face is not in the pillow, hiding from his cold sharp gaze. This has you feeling new depths of submissiveness and being vulnerable. Though he can kind of notice you are trying your hardest to keep it cool but that is nothing but a challenge to him. This makes him want to break you more. 

You let out a yelp, because he suddenly slams you down on it with no warning and does not stop thrusting even for a second. You are not looking at him directly but you can tell he is smirking at the way you are struggling to keep it together. 

“You were doing a good job trying to keep it together, but you have to try harder to fool me.” He whispers into your ear as one of his hands starts to caress hair. The contrast of his soft demeanor while caressing your hair and his rough thrusts that have your legs almost shaking has your mind going hazy. “I will break you either way, you might as well give in to make this easier for yourself..” he continues in his dark husky voice as his hand leaves your hair now, traveling further down caressing your clit instead. 

It does not take a lot of movement to make you come undone. All that pent up energy from earlier was just waiting to be released, hanging on by a thread. The higher you feel the lower you will come down, and right now you are not just seeing stars you are seeing other galaxies. He grins as he watches you come. Your beautiful eyes are finally letting those tears out, and this time he can look into them since there is no pillow to shove your head in. 

You feel so drained from that one orgasm, you end up just laying down for what feels like several long minutes. This low really matched the high. 

Suddenly he climbs on top of you, his eyes even more dark and playful now. Before you can even react he, flips you on your stomach.

“Wha-” you blurt out. 

“Who said I was done teaching you a lesson? I was going easy on you earlier..” He snickered as he spreads your cheeks apart. 

 © 2024 tomieafterdark | All rights reserved

#eren smut #eren jaeger smut #aot smut #attack on titan smut #eren x reader #eren x y/n #eren yeager smut #eren yeager x reader #eren yeager x you #smut #drabble #female reader

[egophiliac]

bring back zooterkins, the best 17th-century swear word

I don't normally do Just Characters Swearing, but. ...this kind of wrote itself and then wouldn't leave my head. it comes from both a piece of character-writing advice that has always stuck with me, and also my conviction that Leona is 1000% funnier as a character if his dialogue has to stay G-rated. let Kalim say fuck, but don't let Leona say bastard.

(I'm sorry)

#art #twisted wonderland #(sort of atemporally somewhere between episodes 6 and 7?) #(i - i wanted that lilia joke okay) #long post #tumblr went 'you can post up to 30 images now :)' and i was like well okay then #anyway once again i'm sorry #i'd say i don't know why i did this but actually it is because i wanted kalim to scandalize everyone #i tried to keep it...you know...tasteful. a tasteful amount of fucks. #hey remember how the framing premise for the original birthday interviews was that yuu worked for the school paper #because i have never forgotten. in my head they are still getting up to all kinds of wacky reporting hijinks.

[citrushomie]

gumiku as this photo i found on pinterest

#arts #hatsune miku #gumi megpoid #vocaloid #gumiku #thats all my tags anyway the link is to the pinterest pin i got the pic from #BUT if you go in the comments someone says its ai generated. youd have to be shit for brains to think that anyway i know they say that #because of the chinese text in the bottom right thats common in ai images but thats not any ai program watermark #that is a watermark of an app called xiaohongshu (小红书) that pinterest users steal from commonly. idk who those people are #i dont even know if theyre in a band or anything i didnt get that far. i dont know if that ID is even to their original upload. #if anyone is bored enough to want to find out please let me know. thanks for reading i feel insane about that. mostly because #of that one person who says its ai. you stupid idiot its not ai look at it with your eyes. its not even high quality. anyway

[duskerot]

i disappear inside myself / my friends don't know it can't be helped

[Pure You - Nothing But Thieves]

#my art #mysme #mystic messenger #v mystic messenger #jihyun kim #ummmm hi guys #^-^ #fanart from me?? posted directly to this blog ??? or at all??? Well. #i was looping this song and i had the idea for this and then sat down for about four hours and here it is #im on like day 2 of v's route for the first time AND this song just came out like right as i got into his route yknow #and i was listening to those lyrics like.... huh..... #this soundssss. familiar. #anyway. politely i did NOT think that if i made fanart of this game after returning to it for the first time in like 6 years. it would be V #i adore this song though. and it compels me #i havent ever seen his route before so i still don't know how it ends idk how accurate this vibe even is #i would say try to avoid spoiling me in the tags but im gonna be real say whatever you want kings #i love u mysme fandom thats still around in 2024 you get me #anyway im drafting this at about 3 in the morning and i need to be awake earlyish tomorrow SO. #we'll see when i post this #its been so long since ive posted art i just do nawt make fanart until i get divinely inspired #iffff its blurry please click to see it its supposed to be crisp ^^; #been on this site how long i still pay no mind to their suggested image resolution #OH and by day 2 of V's route i mean like day 6 overall. you understand

[just-rainbow-thoughts]

“So, how’d this year go for you?”

A simple question leading to a variety of answers

#I wanted to draw interactions but didn’t know what I wanted them to say so empty bubbles it is #shoutout to everyone else posting anniversary art late we’re all in this together #i am the op #jus sum doodly doos #pizza tower #I think I got the character sizes a bit wrong #this wasn’t my original intention of what I wanted to draw for the anniversary but I was a day off on when it was so I had no time #and then I ended up being 5 days late anyway #fun fact all these images have their own titles in ibis which I don’t normally do #if you see inconsistencies no you don’t 🩷 #can you tell which pic was my favourite to draw

[icewindandboringhorror]

There's always a slight yearning in the back of my mind wishing I had been born in the right place, time, family situation, income level, etc. to have just lived in one single house for my entire life. Imagine being born in a place that still suits you, even through all of your personal evolutions and etc. The idea of deep familiarity with an area because you've lived and explored it for 40+ years, being encased in a web of memories and connections. Being able to clean out your old childhood bedroom and find personal artifacts, to dig in the yard and remember. I know those lives can still be plenty imperfect, but there's just something so seemingly solid and stable and Grounding about it that I sometimes wish I could have.. (At least from my outside perspective as someone who's moved around a bit geographically and even within the same area, never lives in the same house/ apartment /etc. for more than a few years usually.) Like... having a place that is printed upon, fully your own, rather than chronically a visitor, every thought of a space always tempered with the notion that one day soon you'll have to pack it all up again, etc. There's something peaceful about the permanence.

#I think also because I'm a very nostalgic person - THOUGH not in the way that somep poeple mean when they say nostalgia because I've realiz #ed that to some people apparently it means like.. more of a sad emotional thing? Or when I talk about being nostalgic they say 'me too' and #then describe how they're always depressed dwelling on the past wishing they could revisit it and replaying it and feeling sad and etc. #Whereas for me - it's not in a deep or emotional way at all. It's very detached - kind of like someone who is doing like a scientific #cataloguing of something? I don't feel any remorse or sadness or longing or sitting there sobbing for hours over people/pets I've lost or #etc. It's more like a fun contemplative excercise and extension of self analysis plus just documentation. Like I know your memory fades as #you get older OR even as stuff is actively ongoing humans have terrible recall - even the ones who are less emotional/more focused on #accuracy our minds still twist things or etc. SO I looove to have documentations of everything possible so that in the future I will have #as full and complete of a view of myself as I possibly can. sure the image will undoubtedly be a little distorted but having real evidence #of how something was at a time is very valuable. You look through old messages or letters or something and you always find other alternate #versions of yourself. Not in a worse way like inherently inferior Previous Models Of You who haven't yet been perfected but even just in a #neutral way like 'what they're saying is not a BAd thing but also is not how I would say that today.' etc. ANYWAY I find it really interest #ing to document and remember things and love revisiting the past - not in a sad way - but just like. curiosity. reminiscing and recalling #and filling in gaps. or trying to have the same feeling I felt at a previous time so I can remember what it was. Collecting information for #documentation purposes. Like for example - I would love to go back and tour all of my old childhood houses/apartments. Not to like #sit in the middleof them and cry and go 'ohhh my childhood waughhh' - but literally because I want to take detailed photographs so I #can remeber exatly what they looked like and recreate them in sims or some other digital way. Why? idk. just to gather the information. If #I ever live to like 80 years old and I'm still reflecting on my life curious about the dteails of it. I want to be able to fire up my #ancient windows 10 laptop I've kept all these years and open up the sims 4 and tour my old home with accuracy etc. ?? #Not sure why really. Maybe an extension of how I generally care a lot about having an 'accurate' view of things? Like I would rather be #accurate than be happy. I don't understand 'ignorance is bliss' because I would always rather know. I always always in any situation am mor #focused on 'what is the well researched practical truth' than about 'how does this make me feel' or etc. Truth above ALL else even if it #were to make me miserable. Aka why I'm a 'boring' 'annoying' 'UM actually..' type of killjoy lol because it's very hard for me to understan #that some people can enjoy something or have a good time even not knowing the full facts of a situation or etc. BUT anyway. since that is #some core driver of my personality for whatever reason (just the plague of ennegram type 5 perhaps lol) maybe that also drives me to my #kind of minor obsession with like 'I must have a complete view and calatoguing of my life that is as accurate as possible within the means #i have' . Is it REALLY important for me to know the exact layout of on of my first childhood bedrooms? no. materially it does nothing for m #in life. BUT hey. it would make a great addition to the Accurate Life Story Catalogue lol. ANYWAY.. But I think a lot of wanting to live in #one place forever is not just the ease of documentation. but the sense of having a constant. Much of what i crave most in life is stability #& familiarity &routine bc of how my brain works. And it just would feel so good to be Settled. Never uproot again. One little place FOREVER

[collieii]

idk if this is controversial but i don't think vash is ashamed of his scars. i think vash is mainly concerned abt the picture he presents to the world and other peoples well-being/feelings. so the reason he doesn't like others seeing his scars is because he think it will make them uncomfortable, and it also sort of undermines the image he wants to project of someone who's very sillygoofy/carefree etc. similarly, i don't think vash is ashamed or insecure about being a plant/having those inhuman features, more he's concerned with how other people react to them. (the plant stuff esp makes sense to hide given how people literally stoned him lmao)

but yeah i don't think he's filled with self loathing over the scars and being nonhuman. i feel like vash's self image is fine, he just prioritizes how others feel and reacts based on that. his whole philosophy of covering up how he feels inside (that smile is fake!) is based on this principle, it doesn't matter if he's depressed as hell as long as he can pretend it's ok, because external presentation and how you affect the world is what really matters to him.

#trigun #trigun maximum #vash the stampede #thinking more of trimax than stampede vash but i think this applies to both? #anyways i've been reading a lot of trigun fic if you couldn't tell #the plant/wings stuff is addressed p well thru meryl in trimax #where it makes sense that ppls immediate reaction to seeing them is fear #(seen in ch 38) #but ofc anyone who knows vash would know he'd never intentionally use his powers to hurt ppl #even if they are terrifying and it's reasonable to be scared #meryl is scared of vash kinda instinctively but she pushes thru it bc he's her friend yk #and there's a whole line where someone just points that out directly i can't remember which chap but yk what im saying #oh when i say his self image is fine i am not referring to the guilt of causing insane tragedies that different #i just mean he's not insecure i feel like it might look like there's overlap w what i'm saying but it's different it's different #only saying this bc i've seen other ppl make him more insecure abt it which is fine but i wanted to add my 2 cents #trigun meta #.lieii #.lieii txt

[mokutone]

hi what do you think abt t4t kakayama (it's canon to me tbh)

:) hi ty for the question. i will do two sweet pictures of them being intimate and then under the cut there's going to be a longer very unsweet and more technical response

so i'm usually not a very shippy person! but that said i am also on the record as an occasional kakayama + kakayamagai enjoyer

i do hc them both as trans and in different ways w/ different experiences of transition and identity! i have no interest in proving my view as canon, but i do regard my reading of the text (text here including the anime) as a valid interpretation of yamato's experience of identity

yamato, for example, imo, doesnt have any real lived experience of being raised as a child of any gender. he was an experimental subject, and then he was Danzō's weapon/vessel for the mokuton, and then he was in anbu.

in a fun little word game which should not be taken seriously: it'd almost be more fitting to describe him as "adgender" rather than "transgender" since the prefix "trans" implies moving across where the prefix "cis" means to stand still, but the prefix "ad" means "to move towards" and i headcanon him as somebody who was degendered as a child, not in a cool nonbinary way, but instead in a dehumanizing, objectifying way, so his experience of creating his identity and his gender along with it is one of moving toward the concept of gender this word doesn't and wont exist, but bc of the way english works it would probably be simplified to be spelled precisely the same as "agender" in the same way that "aggression" came from latin "aggredi" which came from "ad" (meaning to/toward) and and latin "gradus" (meaning step) (essentially the combination means "to step to" [in a threatening manner]) the only diferences is where agender (meaning no gender) is pronounced ay-gender, the agender that comes from adgender would be prounounced more like "uhgender" in the same way that agressive isnt pronounced like "ay-gressive" but instead like "uhgressive"

and then...as for kakashi? i just decided on vibes. i didn't think hard about it.

i guess i should also say that, while i draw kakayama very infrequently, when i do draw it i usually try to be very apparent about the transness in the artwork if i can? especially if i'm drawing anything more intimate than a peck on the cheek. it's no secret that shipping is often times the most energized part of fandom, and i kind of don't want to produce romantic or sexual artwork which will be enjoyed by people who don't think trans people can be attractive? or who find that trans headcanons make a character uninteresting to them? or worse, "ruin" a depiction of a character to them?

often i think about in terms of. IF there are people that follow me that love my work (usually) and think that kakashi or yamato are hot (usually) and love kakayama (usually) but get frustrated or even uncomfortable out when i draw them as explicitly trans? then i'm drawing all intimate artwork of them as explicitly trans.

it's a little like...nobody gets to love my work if transgender characters are a turnoff for them. that's the bar for entry, is the way i think of it, but really its more like putting onions in a dish. if you want to eat the dish you have to eat the onions. if you don't want to eat the onions, don't eat the dish. all the meals i make contain onions. i'll never compromise on my intention to put onions in every dish i make. that's my ninja way, as the kids say.

especially in the climate we're in right now.

i don't know. i have a lot of feelings about how most fandoms tend to view trans men, especially in terms of romantic and sexual relationships. I'm doing a bad job of expressing the depth of how much seeing how fandom treats trans male identity and transmasculine bodies impacts the way that i draw + write kakayama, but genuinely it's something i think about every single time i create content about them.

#yamswers #danova #often even when there r trans characters/trans hcs of characters the m/m pairings are usually trans + cis #+ i wanna emphasize: there's nothing wrong with that. trans+cis relationships are as beautiful and valid as t4t #but...in fiction...there's like. expectations. of how a trans guy will act in a relationship with a cis guy #literally every transmasc person knows exactly what im fucking talking about lol #i'm trying to keep this conversation PG bc naruto is not an adult show—so. anyway #the presence of t4t depictions is basically essential in offering an alternative image of relationships + intimacy for trans individuals #a view of trans bodies which is not designed for the pleasure of cis consumption+assumption #a view of trans bodies not couched in an artist statement saying ''this is a trans body. this is how you interact with a body like it.'' #sometimes even stuff made by trans people will cater to explaining transness to cis people + thats fine and okay and— #—can be cathartic to create. esp as a trans person since so many of us are Surrounded by cis people irl #but. as a singular consumer. i get tired of that. i don't want it—at least not in the way that fandom frequently produces #i'm sorry this was probably an ask that expected a reply full of trans love and just got a bunch of technical stuff back #but to be fair this IS how i feel about t4t kakayama