#did I in fact forget I still had asks in my inbox? perhaps

[innytoes]

No but really, Jess Mariano and Reggie Peters and Eliot Spencer in the sprawling 3fer crossover

Jess is somehow related to Eliot since Luke is his cousin, and Reggie could not be more jealous. Why does Jess get TWO cool plaid wearing grumpy but secretly softies adults and he gets NONE????

Jess hates Reggie because he's Too Cheerful and he's convinced the No Thought Head Empty Heart Pure thing is a ruse. Especially because sometimes Reggie will let out the snarkiest zinger ever.

You know Luke Danes has a soft spot for the Phantoms. Like, Luke Patterson is a nuisance but he's nothing compared to the Gilmores, at least he doesn't go behind the counter unless he needs a working pen stat. Alex is always annoyingly snarky to Taylor but always just on the side of plausible deniability, which has gotten him free donuts in the past. And Reggie is just so earnestly happy to get pie or a burger or whatever.

Eliot being an asshole and being like: if you won't make the kid your diner apprentice I'll take him. Okay step one, knives are like people...

And that's how Reggie got a part time job at the diner for the morning rush.

(He enables the Gilmores even more than Luke does when it comes to coffee. Lorelai declares him her new favourite. Luke tries not to be mad about it in front of Reggie.)

[jyuansgf]

nsfw content ahead. minors dni. 

— friends with benefits / blade x f!reader. cw: 18+ content, angst, catching feelings.. lol, modern au, college setting (?).

synopsis: friends with benefits with blade, but is it really benefiting the both of you? are you both genuinely benefiting from the setup you both have, or could it be causing unforeseen complications? can you keep your feelings at bay, especially when the physical intimacy is so compelling that everything else seems to fade away?

NOTES : don’t fall in love with your fwb !! HAHA made this since a lot of people are thirsting over him in my inbox (you guys are heard) also, sorry for the slow/late updates! might make a part two (continuation) if some people demand for it ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡ meanwhile, i just wanna have a situationship with yingxing.. 

despite being in the same circle of friends you met through college, knowing him was no different than meeting anyone else (or at least you think) from hopping on clubs to another one with your friends was how you met each other. however, your relationship took an unexpected turn. if it wasn’t for your friend who kindly asked blade to take you home after you had too much to drink, things might have been different.

you can’t even comprehend how things escalated to this point. your friend would even frequently ask why you’re constantly not present during their night clubs. however, it would always end up with you responding to their messages while you’re completely preoccupied by him, as he fucks you dumb on your apartment. yet, you would always find yourself waking up to a cold bed, right.. you two only agreed to this. the thing is you both benefitted physically but not mentally. you both know this isn’t perfect but it is what you both agreed on, and he’s been fine with it, at least on the surface. 

truth to be told, you can’t even remember the last time you actually had a genuine conversation with each other, without it devolving into a heated, passionate fuck in whichever room he’s dragged you into, or even in your own flat – not like you want him to know, no.. you don’t want to break this thing you have with him yet, at least not now. 

in fact, you would even ask yourself if you can still handle this situation with him – whether it's during friends’ gatherings or just in general, it’s as if you barely know each other, like you're just a fleeting presence in his life. but behind closed doors, it’s as though the two of you can’t get enough of each other – fucking until midnight, until you plead for him to touch you in a way that no one else has. until you forget the unresolved feelings you have for him.

— “you sure have a lot going on in your mind even when i’m this deep inside you,” his laughter was low and throaty, filling the quiet room as he pressed himself deeper into you. the sensation of his breath cascading across the sensitive skin of your neck sent shivers down your spine. his rough stubble grazed against your tender flesh, creating a light, teasing contrast – and a fresh hickey, a silent testament of the night's fervor, adorned your neck as a token.

right, you were probably too absorbed in your thoughts. it wasn’t like you were always this way, but you often found yourself deep in thought whenever you two fuck lately.

“what, since when did you become a psychic?” you queried, a gentle chuckle seeping from your lips. your fingers gracefully danced through his hair, twirling and playing with the strands as you gazed at him. a playful glint sparkled in your eyes as a thought crossed your mind. “perhaps, the reason i can still manage coherent thoughts is because you haven’t been fucking me enough, blade." you teased, the hint of a challenge lingering in your words – but you intended to strike at a nerve, and you guaranteed it with the way he suddenly tightened his grip on your hips. the most satisfying part to you. as if you can count on your fingers with how many times he fucked you dumb enough to even think straight.

“is that so? well, i can’t have you thinking i’m not trying hard enough, can i?” his deep laughter echoed throughout the room in response to your playful banter, a sound you’d grown accustomed to — a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, he liked it when you’re being like this.. when you’re being cheeky, maybe too confident enough to think that he can’t fuck you until you’re a mess. “well then, i suppose we just have to rectify that,” his voice held a teasing edge, as he shifted his position, his cock slowly mushing the walls of your pussy, making you whine. his hands trailing up your sides — causing a shiver to ripple across your skin. his eyes, filled with lust, locked onto yours.

“do you want me to force it out of your system or should i just take you out of your senses?” his voice dripping to a low growl that sent a thrill through your core, your eyes slowly watching the way he moves — his smirk widened at your sharp intake of breath with the way his hands began to roam over your body, generating sparks wherever they touched.

it was moments like these, when the world outside between you seemed to fade away, that you found yourself inexplicably drawn to him, despite the complicated thing you both have. 

“…i’m open to either option,” you muttered softly, pausing momentarily to consider the weight of your words — a playful grin displayed across your face, reflecting your proposition, as you continued, “but i think, i’d prefer to have both if possible.” a teasing giggle bubbled up from your chest, a sweet melody that filled the tension between you two. almost unconsciously, your hands found their way to his neck, fingers gently tracing his neck, adding an intimate touch to your playful jest — filled with anticipation. 

blade could only reply with a chuckle, but you knew you were in for it. soon enough — he’ll have you fucked dumb on the mattress, until you’re a crying mess on his cock, until you two forget about the topic on hand. you don’t even plan on telling him, not this time. but at least you get what you want.

[tellodona]

i saw anon ask this in my inbox, but i accidentally deleted it 😭 i hope anon would see this !

the brothers seeing mc use sfx makeup

heads up: gn!mc, swearing in lucifer's

lucifer

he hasn't seen you all day, so he assumes you haven't left your room

hm. he has spare time. what's wrong with checking in on you?

he knocks on your door, and patiently waits for you to open it

when you do, what greets him is the sight of you with blood everywhere on your face

your makeup had your left eye blackened out (you just closed it) with fake blood dripping right out of it. and you even took the liberty of making yourself paler than usual

mc. what. the. fuck.

right of the bat, he could smell toxins on your face, and deduced it was makeup

but that still doesn't stop him from freezing over

"lucifer... are you okay?"

"*clears his throat* yes, i am, mc. are you perhaps trying... very detailed makeup?"

he has mixed feelings about it

one, wow, you're talented, good job, you almost scared him, mc

second, the blood reminded him too much of something and someone

"mc... please give me a heads up when you try this... sfx makeup, if you would"

that would depend

mammon

he had a big win in one of the casinos he frequents, so of course you had to know too!

he stomps towards your door and barges into your roon without much of a warning

you flinched and accidentally got lipstick on your teeth, so look turned and glared at him

he SCREAMS

"MC WHAT THE HELL??????????"

you had makeup to look like your face was burnt, and it looked too realistic for his liking. with your glare, it made you look more terrifying

he was shaking in his place because he got so scared-

ehem! the GREAT mammon doesn't get scared, okay?!

still though, you sigh and you should gently apologize to him

"mc, you scared the bejeebers outta me! i- i mean... i was surprised! just surprised! this're the things you gotta tell me, alright?!"

from then on he learnt how to knock. but it's more like slamming on your door impatiently

leviathan

because of the extent of his knowledge in cosplaying, you wanted his opinion on something about your makeup. like the color of your eye contacts maybe

you knock on his door, and when he doesn't answer, you hear faint sounds of a game going off inside, so you took the liberty of going inside

there he was, busy in front of his computer on a game that probably just came out an hour ago

you waited for him to finish, so when he did, you called out his name

he flinched, sighing, "mc, you have to stop scaring-"

he turns around and pales

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!"

he threw his controller at you, which hit you square in the face

we are NOT forgetting about the fact that he's a literal grand admiral

of course you're falling down on your bum

"m- m- m- mc, i'm so sorry!!!!!!"

literally on his knees begging for forgiveness

after a while, the both of you calm down

he finally takes into detail with your sfx makeup, which looks like you were drowned in the sea and you had tears coming out of your eyes

"maybe gray would look great... or blue?"

he'd help with whatever you need, just don't scare him like that again, normie!

satan

he'd recently borrow a book from the human world from you, finished it in one sitting, and wanted to return it to you

he knocks on your door, and when you told him to come in, he did

you were in front of your mirror, but he wasn't in the angle to see your reflection

"mc, i wanted to return your book- oh."

you returned around, looking at him curiously

your makeup made an illusion where your face seemingly split apart in the middle, one side was crying, and one side was angry

it hit home for him, despite the absolute gore of a thing you have on your face right now

he just wore a frown on his face, making you have a feeling of worry, "satan... are you okay?"

he gets out of his head and nods

"i just wanted to return your book. sorry if i'm intruding on something."

you assure him it's fine, and he debates whether to stay or not

he does, he sits on your bed behind you

"what's your inspiration for that, mc?"

asmodeus

you were asking for some makeup suggestions these past few days which was he excited to share with you

"are you going somewhere, mc? oh, oh! can i come? i can, right?!"

you laugh and tell him it depends

it's been two days since you last asked for makeup suggestions, so he assumed you already have them

he skips towards your room with a happy hum, knocking on your door, "mc~ i'm coming in!"

he walks in, smiling brightly

you were just finishing up, and you turned around

he almost hurls

"o- oh... that's what you've been up to, huh?"

you had some sort of crown on top of your head, but it was broken in half. your face had distorted make up on it, scratch marks all over, broken jewels decorated around your face, and some sort of gunshot wound on your forehead

he walks closer to you, his smile coming back, "can i make some suggestions?"

he immediately got hooked

be ready for an impromptu photoshoot

beelzebub

he'd recently receive a coupon for one of the restaurants he always go to that everything will be 25% if you bring someone with you

he immediately thought about you

he happily walks to your room, a smile on his face thinking about how much food he'll be eating and that you would be there with him

he knocks like once, before he just opens your door

"mc, i got a coupon after winning- what are you doing?"

he tilts his head when you look like you were poking at something on your face with a brush

you turn around to find him standing there with said coupon in hand, "what is it, beel?" you ask

but he just freezes

you had yourself look like you were crying, burn marks all over your face, and you wore an eye contact on your right eye to make it look like it went blind

"beel?" you try calling out again

he shakes his head when he stops thinking and the smell of the makeup's toxins flaring in his nose

"oh... uhm. you look great, mc. i didn't know you could do that."

you thank him, and he went on with the tangent about the coupon

he's desperate in subtly ignoring the makeup

belphegor

it's rare, but somehow he got a nightmare

he forgot about it as soon as he woke up, but he was still feeling a little restless

he walks out of his and beel's room and walked downstairs

he finds your light still open, so he immediately decided to make it your problem

he just opens your door without any prior warning and sees you standing by your bed

he raises an eyebrow and calls your name

you turn around and he was dumbfounded

you black and white feathers scattered around your hair, your eyes were depicted to be swollen from crying, your nose is bleeding, a slice on your cheek, and half of your face was burnt

and it felt like his nightmare all over again

"mc...?"

he was frozen over and you had to frantically assure him it was makeup

it took him a while to respond to you, and just nodded

he slept in your bed with you that night

i had some inspirations from the internet, but most of them are little close to home heh

see what i did there?

[eldrichfuck666]

OLYAAAAA, HIII!!! 72% for Ansel and Herr Mannelig pwease 👉🏻👈🏻

Hello, Evan T^T It's always such a pleasure to see you in my inbox and I appreciate you & your interest in my OCs so much! You made my whole day! Also, I'm sorry for not answering this right when I got your ask - I'm a very slow person :'D I hope your day is going great 🥺💖 Or, if you're sleeping - I hope you're having the sweetest dreams 💓 Pleeease don't forget to rest, okay? :') Love you so muuuch!

72%. If your character could go back and speak to a younger version of themself, what would they say?

Ansel. There are two ways it could go — and I know that the question did not assume this, however, I always break the rules, so... In both versions, he would be apologizing to his younger version on his knees and wailing the same words, hardly able to speak because of tears and a mental storm and heaviest emotions taking control of him. His words would depend on many factors: for example, the circumstances of their meeting, the age of his younger version and what led to it. However, in one case of events, he would beg his young version to end everything before his story gets the same development — he would apologize to himself, with his glazed eyes, that are still so full of fear and misunderstanding — misunderstanding why fate brought him here, why fate is so... cruel. He would have begged younger Ansel to commit suicide, because it would be the only way he wouldn't face subsequent events, wouldn't experience the same endless nightmare, wouldn't also be tormented — but this is only if this meeting could change something according to the laws of the universe. Yes, Ansel is relatively happy at the moment, but he would sacrifice everything just to have another version of him (perhaps from a parallel universe?) didn't go through the same thing. Because death is much better than what he had to deal with — it's such a hopeless situation that there's no other answer. What about another variant of what he might have said — he would say nothing other than apologizing million times. But he'd definitely hug his yonger self — in the way you hug someone knowing that you'll never see them again, and knowing that they'd have to face something so horrible that you're not even capable of comprehending. He knows that there was no way to prevent it from happening. That would be one of the most painful things he'd ever experience - to meet his younger self. It wasn't in the question (again), but I'd say it regardless — there will be so much consequences to this and it would be a truly terrifying situation for Ansel.

Herr Mannelig. «You should have been a bit more cruel, my dear — do you see where your own distrust of yourself has led you? You could have changed everything, but you... You didn't, you didn't take the risk. You can only blame yourself. You weren't foolish — you understood everything perfectly. That was your mistake — to act like you didn't.» Now, some context! She is, perhaps, one of my favorite OCs of all time (I LOVE THEM ALL I JUST- SHE IS- I'M IN LOVE WITH HER OKAY??), and definitely one of the most interesting. She's a.. umm.. quite unusual knight. She's someone you may call a witcher - her role is to keep that creatures out of the town, but it's not about extermination— it's about protecting people on the territory that the mountain Goddess gave them. She must eliminate dangerous monsters that will try to enter her territory and harm her people. However.. It hasn't always been like this. I won't speak about it right now as it's a HUGE spoiler and I want to visualize it, but... There's WILL be that critical moment in the story where she'd meet her younger self — it will happen because of the enchanted cave where she'd find herself wandering in search of her lost lover. She'd have to not only speak, but not become possessed by something that calls themselves "her younger version" but in fact, is not. That's, ummm... a spoiler, so that's all I have to say! 👀

[cha-melodius]

I feel bad for sending you this when you’re almost done catching up with your inbox requests, but I’m such a sucker for your Lokius whumps 😂Here are the prompts I really wanna see for Lokius if you don’t already have plans to write these for other fandoms: 17 hang by a threat or 20 it’s been a long day 🙇

(Congrats anon, you've unlocked a story I'd been meaning to write for a while: a whumpy time loop! Thanks so much for your support and enthusiasm, it means so much to me. This is chapter one of ??, posted now so I could hit the deadline for the 20th. So here you go: No. 20, "It's Been A Long Day".)

It's Been A Bad Day Lately

Read it on AO3 (T, 3.3k, 1/?)

“Up and at ‘em, sunshine!” someone nearly shouts at him, jolting Loki to alertness where he’d apparently fallen asleep on a table in the archives. Again. He looks toward the source of the voice and sees B-15 smirking at him from a short distance away, pruning baton in hand, already geared up for the operation. “Today’s the big day,” she continues, at a slightly more sedate volume now that she’s woken him, “and you’re sleeping on the job. Did you even go back to your room last night?”

“What’s the point?” Loki asks through a yawn. “This table is about as comfortable as the questionable piece of furniture you people insist on calling a bed.”

“You’ll have a lot bigger problems than that if today doesn’t go well,” she retorts, eyeing him with mistrust. Not any more than her usual amount, though. A normal level of suspicion, really. “I still think it’s too early for your first field operation.”

It’s been just over two weeks since he arrived at what seemed to be an alternate TVA to find that anyone he might have counted as a friend no longer knew him, and sometimes he forgets where he is. Or— when, maybe. It’s all very confusing. He’s still unsure whether the B-15 standing before him is the same person as the one he knew, or perhaps something else altogether. The only thing he’s pretty sure of is that they’re not variants of the people he knew, because he’s looked, extensively, there’s no sign that there’s another TVA out there somewhere in the multiverse. The people he’s surrounded by now are nearly identical, except when they are decidedly not, and pretty much all the ground he had gained in earning the trust of his former associates, he’d lost in an instant. It’s annoying, to put it mildly. Still, there are times like these when he wakes up and it feels as if maybe the whole Void thing was just a bad dream, until someone says something that snaps him back to reality.

“As I have informed you before, this is not my first mission with the TVA,” Loki says wearily. “Nor even my first mission with you.”

“Right. In that alternate TVA of yours,” she says, her tone making it clear that she doesn’t fully believe him. Even knowing who Nathaniel Richards is, even knowing what his variants have done and are still trying to do in the timelines, the idea that the TVA itself changed when He Who Remains was killed is beyond comprehension for most of them. Loki doesn’t fully blame them, honestly. Still—

“Mobius believes me.”

“Mobius has a soft spot for you.”

There are some things that make Loki hold onto the hope that the ‘original’ versions of his coworkers are still in there, those memories locked away. The fact that this Mobius seems awfully fond of him, even though he didn’t know who Loki was until he stumbled up to him in the archives, is certainly one of them. Everyone else is justifiably suspicious of him, and Mobius is, too—his Mobius always knew better than to immediately believe whatever Loki told him, after all—but he’s more likely to give Loki the chance to make his case.

Which is how he ended up here, about to go out in the field in pursuit of particularly wily Nathaniel Richards variant. It had taken Loki some time to convince the TVA to let him help, but everyone had frankly been at their wits end with this one. Most of the Richards variants are brilliant scientists, which is a big part of the problem, but this one, number 456, is somehow even worse than most. Once Loki finds out about him, he suspects he’s well on his way to becoming the next He Who Remains, and as much as multiversal war is a drag, he’s in no hurry to have some egomaniacal despot deciding every moment of his life again.

The thing that makes NR456 so troubling is that he always seems to know that they’re coming. At first, this meant he’d disappear not long before they arrived, but as things have gone on he’s started luring them into traps, trying to take out as many agents as possible. They had been sure they had a mole in the organization—which should have been expected, given the TVA’s history—but they’ve never been able to find one. The agents that are left, few though they might be, are loyal; everyone else is gone, disappeared into the fabric of the multiverse.

And so: enter Loki, stage left, full of new ideas based on what he knows about the man given his conversation with He Who Remains. He ends up spending late nights in the archives with Mobius, chasing down leads, and he aches with how very familiar it is but so very not at the same time. At least they don’t lock him in a cell during the night cycles in this TVA, though the small dormitory room they offered him in is hardly better.

“You ready for this?” Mobius asks as Loki takes his place next to him for the briefing.

They’re both wearing tactical vests under their jackets, while the hunters and minutemen around them are decked out in full gear, armed with their pruning batons. The batons are still the TVA’s only weapon, even though no one really knows what’s going on in the Void anymore with He Who Remains gone. Loki certainly hadn't been keen to check. Richards’ men, on the other hand, will be shooting at them with guns and rigging explosives. It hard feels like a fair fight, but Loki’s suggestions that they go get something with more oomph from a timeline have, frustratingly, fallen on deaf ears.

“Not really,” Loki answers honestly. “But I suppose I’ll have to be.”

“Remember, just stick close and follow the plan. If we can surprise him—”

“You can never surprise him.”

“—if we can surprise him,” Mobius repeats, more forcefully, “then we might have a chance.”

“Well, that is as true as it is unlikely,” Loki replies dryly. “Are you sure we can’t pop in somewhere for some real weapons?”

“We’ll be fine. This is how we planned it. It’s gonna work this time, I can feel it.”

They do get close. Closer, as far as Loki can tell from what he’s read about the previous operations, than they ever have before. Richards doesn’t seem to have been forewarned of their arrival, but the building where he’s set up his base of operations is, unfortunately, extremely well-defended regardless of that fact. Loki is exceedingly familiar with the costs of war, but even so, this is brutal. Richards’ men are far better armed and fight with the tenacity of true believers, willing to give their lives for the cause. Ironically, they have a chance to live, if they can survive in whatever’s left of the Void; the hunters and minutemen they shoot down have no such opportunity.

In the chaos, somehow he gets separated from Mobius. He doesn’t even realize it at first, which is disconcerting, because ever since Loki returned from the Void he’s been hyper-aware of where Mobius is at all times. It doesn’t mean anything, it’s not like he’s all that concerned, but he knows that Mobius was never much of a fighter, and he has no reason to suspect that he gained any expertise when he was reset or whatever in Hel’s name happened. Now, though, Loki has no idea where he is, and there’s a rising sense of something making his chest tight and shortening his breath—panic, it’s panic, and he doesn’t know what to do with this realization—and he’s so distracted that he almost gets gutted by a henchman with a knife.

Ok, it wasn’t that close. The panic is frankly far more distressing than his attacker had been. At least he got a knife out of it.

Henchman dispatched, and the others around him occupied, he takes off down the hallway, calling Mobius’s name. Where Mobius could have gotten to, he has no clue, but the longer he goes without finding that familiar silver hair among those still fighting in the hallways, the shakier he gets. Which is insane. This isn’t him, he doesn’t get like this. It’s just the adrenaline, is all.

Finally, finally, he nearly stumbles over Mobius another floor down in the compound, on the way to where they suspect Richards is hiding out, assuming he somehow hasn’t managed to escape already.

“Oh, thank the Norns,” he huffs, doubled over with his hands on his knees as he tries to catch his breath. “What happened to you?” “Nothing, nothing,” Mobius says quickly.

Too quickly. Loki hadn’t really thought he’d have actually gotten into trouble, but now that he looks closer it appears that Mobius is kind of… listing to one side and pressing one hand to his abdomen. Loki makes a grab for him, ignoring Mobius’s squawk of protest, and pulls his hand away at the same time as he peels back the front of the jacket.

“Fuck, Mobius,” he says, horrified by the sheer amount of blood he finds staining Mobius’s clothes. There’s so much of it, and it seems to be everywhere but where it should be. “What happened?”

“It’s fine, ‘m ok,” Mobius insists, but he’s so, so pale, whiter even than his hair, and almost immediately afterward he staggers, knees buckling beneath him and sending him careening into Loki’s arms.

“We have to get you out of here,” Loki says. He’s already trying to hurry Mobius back down the hall, desperate to get out of the building so they can open a time door, but the other man puts up a surprising amount of resistance. 

“Loki, wait, wait—” Mobius heaves a huge, shuddery breath as he manages to drag them to a halt. “We can’t leave. You can’t leave. We’re so close. You should go— go after the variant.”

“What? You’re being ridiculous, Mobius, we need to get you help. We’ll get him another time.”

“We’ve n-never been so close. We c–can’t give up. Not now.”

“I’ll come back, then—” Loki tries.

“No!” Mobius shouts, startling him. He tugs Loki a little closer, until Loki has no choice but to meet his gaze, full of fear and pain but also hard, stubborn determination. “’M not gonna make it, Loki. ’M not.”

Loki opens his mouth and closes it again before he manages a weak, “You don’t know that.”

“Yeah, I do,” Mobius sighs, “and so do you. Look at me. I’m toast.” He hiccups a laugh, then winces in pain. “Sorry we never figured out what happened to your TVA. Maybe— maybe you get to this Richards variant, and he can tell you how to fix it.”

What does it matter, if you’re not there with me? The question rises unbidden and unexpected to his lips, and it’s only by luck that he doesn’t actually speak it out loud. Loki is very aware that his feelings for the Midgardian are far from usual for him, that he might have grown a little attached, but for him to be indulging in this kind of sentiment… that takes him wholly by surprise.

“You’re a g— a good man, Loki,” Mobius says when Loki doesn’t respond, his words slurring together even more than they were before. He presses a hand weakly to Loki’s chest and leaves a bloody handprint behind on his vest. “Make this worth it.”

Something inside of Loki breaks at that. Maybe it should mean less, since Mobius doesn’t really know him anymore—doesn’t remember all his terrible history, though Loki has hinted at such more than once—but somehow, it doesn’t. Somehow, it’s just as shattering as when Mobius had stood before him and told him you can be whoever you want, even someone good. He’d watched Mobius die then, too, before they found out that pruning was less than permanent, and even though he hadn’t let himself acknowledge it at the time, revenge had driven him on after that just as much as anything else. History, it seems, as a way of repeating itself.

“I will,” he promises, squeezing Mobius’s hand in his own before he finally tears himself away.

Unfortunately, finding the Richards variant in the labyrinthine building is no easy task. This Richards may not have an Alioth but he certainly has tried to build the equivalent out of henchmen, and there’s no putting all of them to sleep at once. Even with full use of his magic, Loki is stretched thin, pushed to the very limit and only able to stay there thanks to the white-hot fury coursing through his veins. With the help of a few minutemen, he cuts his way through to the deepest level of the compound, where he finds the variant apparently just… waiting for them.

“Oh,” Richards says, looking slightly taken aback, when Loki bursts into his inner sanctum. He doesn’t, however, appear particularly worried, despite the fact that Loki has a gun taken off a henchmen trained on him. “You’re new. How intriguing.”

“That’s all you have to say?” Loki scoffs. “Intriguing?”

Richards just grins at him, leaning nonchalantly back in his chair, and Loki is briefly thrown back to the citadel at the end of time with He Who Remains before him. This Richards is less flamboyantly dressed, preferring instead a simple but well-cut suit and tie, but he has the same unhinged smile and the same confident insouciance. Loki can’t figure out how he could be so cavalier about being cornered like this, until Richards stretches his arms behind his head and he catches sight of some kind of watch-like device—that is nonetheless clearly not a watch—strapped to his wrist. A type of tempad, perhaps, like He Who Remains wore, which he no doubt intends to use to escape this situation.

“What more would you like?” Richards asks, quirking an eyebrow at him.

Richards wants to do casually threatening? Loki excels at casually threatening. He lowers the gun, just slightly, and pastes a cruel grin on his face as he takes a few steps forward. “How about some acknowledgement that the TVA finally caught up to you?” Loki counters. “That’s got to be pretty galling.”

“We-ell,” Richards says, drawing out the word and smirking like he’s in on some secret that Loki is not. “It’s not, strictly speaking, the first time this has happened.”

That… doesn’t make any sense. There’s nothing in the TVA’s files that indicates they’ve ever gotten this close. No reports of anyone even seeing this Richards variant before in person.

“In fact,” Richards continues, “it’s not even the tenth time. This one was more of a surprise than most, I’ll give you that. Too bad it won’t matter.”

“And why, pray tell, is that?” “Well I could tell you, since it won’t make any difference, but honestly explaining it has gotten tiresome. So let’s just have it over with, shall we?”

With that, Richards unfolds his hands from behind his head and stretches them out in front of him instead, then starts to adjust something on the device strapped to his wrist. His way out, which he certainly can’t be allowed to exploit, not after everything that’s happened today. Loki practically launches himself across the remaining distance and tackles Richards to the ground, spilling him out of the chair and onto his back. Conjuring the knife he took from the henchman, he pins Richards’ sleeve to the floor and presses the gun under his chin, and it is so, so tempting to end him right then and there. Norns know he deserves it, but something stays Loki’s hand. This Richards is probably his best bet at finding out what happened when the TVA was reset, and the lure of that knowledge is powerful.

Then there’s the way that Richards grins up at him, looking more than half-crazed, and goads, “Go on, take the shot. You know you want to. Do it.”

And that’s just fucking suspicious.

“A tempting offer,” Loki muses with a cold smile, before he slants his eyes toward Richards’ wrist. “But I’m more curious about this.” Then he grabs the device and yanks it off in one smooth motion, snapping the band easily. The way Richards’ expression flattens into utter terror is almost comical, and Loki’s smile sharpens further. “So it is your exit strategy, then. How does it work?”

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” Richards tries, now struggling ineffectually underneath him. For how dangerous variants of this man can be, he’s still only a Midgardian, and no match for Loki’s strength. “You can’t—”

“Can’t what?”

Unfortunately, he doesn’t get to find out. Chaos erupts in the hallway again as more henchmen finally arrive to tangle with the minutemen who’d been guarding the exit, and Loki swears under his breath. His choices have now become get answers or get out, but before he can make up his mind on whether to leave Richards alive, one of the henchmen appears in the doorway and takes aim.

“No!” Richards screams, but it’s too late; a one of the rain of bullets finds its home in Loki’s neck, and quite abruptly, everything goes dark.

~~~~~

“Up and at ‘em, sunshine!”

Loki startles awake so hard he falls out of the chair. The chair in the archives at the TVA, where he’d been sleeping. Sleeping, not dead. He immediately lifts a hand to his neck and finds it whole and unmarked—he’s alive. Norns, it was all a terrible dream. Letting out a long, shaky breath, he looks up to find B-15 giving him a powerfully bemused look from where she stands a short distance away, pruning baton in hand, already geared up for the operation.

“Seem a bit on edge, there,” she says dryly, then continues: “Today’s the big day, and you’re sleeping on the job. Did you even go back to your room last night?”

Which is… odd. Loki is certainly not going to be the one to question the existence of premonitory dreams, but to his knowledge they are rarely so startlingly clear and painfully accurate. As the fog of sleep clears from his mind, he’s left with the unmistakable feeling that it wasn’t a dream at all, which is impossible. There’s no haziness to his memory, though, nor are the details slipping through his fingers the way that dreams do when you try to grasp them more fully. He can still remember exactly what he had answered.

“What’s the point?” he says carefully, watching B-15’s reaction. If there’s weird time stuff going on, safe to say that the TVA is probably involved. “This table is about as comfortable as the questionable piece of furniture you people insist on calling a bed.”

If she’s heard any of this before, she makes no sign of it. “You’ll have a lot bigger problems than that if today doesn’t go well,” she retorts, word for word, eyeing him with the same typical level of suspicion. “I still think it’s too early for your first field operation.”

That definitely seals it. Something is wrong. Maybe the Norns gifted him with an exceptionally detailed premonition of his future, but if they did, then what happens during the operation today… well, he doesn’t really want to think about it. Shaking his head, he tries to push himself off the ground, and it’s only then that he realizes that there’s something clutched in his hand. He hadn’t been holding anything when he went to sleep, nor had he woken with anything in his hand in the dream, so he doesn’t really know what to expect when he opens his fist. Certainly not what’s inside. He might forget how to breathe for a minute or ten.

Because there, cradled in his palm, is a watch that’s not quite a watch, its strap broken, and a splatter of dried blood on its face: the same exact device that he’d pulled off Nathaniel Richards’ wrist shortly before he’d been killed.

“You know,” he says absently, still staring at the device, “I think you may be right.”

[rightfcllysols]

headcanons of malleus reaction when ace and deuce 'nervously' invites malleus to a surprise birthday party for fem mc

I had to modify your request a little bit but I hope it's still to your liking!! My inbox are always open for requests so feel free to do that ❤

Birthday! malleus draconia x fem! reader

headcanon of malleus being invited to your birthday party

fluff and more fluff

━━ 🐲 ´ˎ˗

🐲 my, what a surprise. A pleasant one to say the least. An invitation? To a birthday party nonetheless? Oh, this dragon fae will be ecstatic and it will show.

🐲 the adeuce duo is the exact opposite though, just seeing this distant and intimidating third year smiling is enough to make them shake in their boots while handing over the letter. What is he plotting? They thought. Was it a good idea to invite him? Wouldn't the other students run away?

🐲 however, Malleus could not read their mind so he probably doesn't know that nor will he care. His focus is on you. Your invitation to be specific.

🐲 the warm feeling inside of him is prospering ever so slowly as the two ran away from a very angry Sebek in the background. What will he bring for you? A piece of jewelry? A precious gem he bought from when he took a trip with Lilia years ago? A small gargoyle keychain he won in an auction?

🐲 he should ask for his kind companion's opinion. Perhaps he might have an idea or two as to what he should bring for your birthday. If not, then he would have to think about this on his own amid all his other duties.

🐲 later that day he asked Lilia, the older fae in turn gave him a half-shrug, saying that he had absolutely no idea since he was too immersed in playing the latest video games Idia lent him and practicing for the light music club's concert.

🐲 ...games?

🐲 he thanked Lilia before leaving the dorm, leaving his caretaker in the dust.

🐲 the next day he showed up at your party completely early. Even the decorations were still scattered on the floor and you weren't back from your club activities.

🐲 the other participants had not yet noticed him thankfully. So when they went outside to distract your attention, he went and did all of the decorations by himself. (By that, I meant with his magic.)

🐲 they were thankful for him and he couldn't be happier.

🐲 however, he almost butchered the surprise party since he had no idea that this type of human event existed. He'll have to learn more about this culture and maybe he can get closer to you that way.

🐲 you thanked everyone for the surprise, scolding yourself for not thinking that they'd do that instead of a normal one. Soon it was his turn to give his present and you received it with a smile. A small box? He told you to immediately open it and you did so.

"A... Tamagotchi?"

"I believe it is appropriate for me to present you that for my own to have a company. You wouldn't mind, would you?" He fished out the egg-shaped device from his pocket, dangling it on his index finger before showing the small dragon to you.

You snorted, coughing to your fist to regain your composure as he stared at you with a raised brow. "Of course I wouldn't. In fact, I haven't had one in a while. So to think that they will immediately have a friend after hatching is pleasing to know."

"A friend?" He chuckled, peering at you from under his lashes. "A fine idea indeed..."

"Oh well," You smiled, pocketing the device. "Would you like ice cream? We have a few on the stand."

He blinked incredulously, "... Yes, with utmost pleasure. Oh and not to forget, happy birthday, child of man."

"Uh... You too— I mean thank you." You nodded, "Alright, let's not waste any more time shall we?"

[tobiosmilktea]

amor vincit omnia — akaashi keiji

     ↪︎ O2. I CHOOSE YOU

masterlist | prev. | next

a/n: i absolutely hated rewriting this chapter after it glitched out the first time 😔

since the beginning of your first year of university, you and the rest of your lovely friends had been eating in the library, specifically the large round table secluded and at the very corner for every meal without fail, and nobody really cared to stop you guys for two reasons. For one, no one really goes into that corner of the library that only collected dust, and two, you guys were there so often that you all befriended all the librarians to the point they stopped coming by to tell you guys to leave and eat in the canteen instead.

you were placed between daichi and kiyoko, counting the seconds by as they worked diligently in silence, munching on their lunch in the process. daichi tapped on the keys on his laptop rather quickly, the impact of each click being unnecessarily loud while kiyoko was cross-referencing documents and highlighting lines of never ending texts in a nice muted green color. tsukishima, on the other hand, was too preoccupied reading his book. eyes completely glued to the novel resting in his hands as he readjusted his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose. sugawara was out and about somewhere in the sea of towering bookshelves to find a book to read, mentioning something along the lines of—and you quote, ‘something to quench his thirst for entertainment.’ 

it was honestly just his fancy way of saying that he was bored out of his goddamn mind. perhaps you were the same, eyes wandering your surroundings for something, just something to capture your attention for a few moments. it wasn’t at all difficult, actually, considering how pretty your university was.

higashi university had always been your dream college. not just by its blatant aestheticism, but the academia as well. with tanaka and nishinoya being your main friend group during your high school days, it feels rather refreshing being surrounded by other incredibly smart individuals than constant brain rot.

(no offense to tanaka and nishinoya, you loved them to pieces)

and as your mind began to wander, so did your gaze. from admiring the library’s interior to looking out the window, your lips slightly curved down into a frown.

it was only noon and the clouds were already darkening the sun’s piercing rays that usually shone through the large domed windows of the library. it was going to rain soon and for a couple hours as well.

it’s quite peculiar to think about now after you received that damned chain letter. earlier this morning, while shoving on your wool sweater and trousers, that even the weather app on your phone didn’t show any signs of inclement weather until an hour after you texted your group chat in an awkward panic.

you didn’t really pine yourself to be so superstitious. if anything, you were the complete opposite, and yet, here you were worrying over the sound of rumbling thunder in the distance.

tsukishima lifted his gaze from the words printed on his novel as he pushed his glasses higher up on the bridge of his nose. he flickered a look at you, a smirk appearing on his visage the moment he noticed the way you stared at a single drop of rain on the window, flowing down rather slowly.

that stupid letter of yours was still in your hand as well. he watched you fiddle with the corners, careful not to mess with the mahogany red wax stamp that sealed the envelope.

“have you thought about which poor, unfortunate soul you’re going to give it to?” he asked, smirk still annoyingly evident. this was the third time he asked you this question in a span of three hours.

you flicked your eyes towards him coolly before it fell onto the letter in your hands. "ask that question again and i’ll be sure to send it your way, tsukishima.”

���i’d like to see you try, honestly.” he muses, “your best bet is probably slipping it into one of your professor’s inboxes. maybe professor oshiro, by chance?”

“please,” you snort, “she only gave me one failing grade that i eventually made up in the end.”

“just give it to a random stranger,” daichi cuts in, eyes still glued to his laptop as he typed his fingers away. dark circles dusting his eyes like a dark shadow. law school was certainly doing its works on the likes of poor, poor sawamura daichi.

he shrugs, evidentially fatigued when he meets your eye.

“that way your grades won’t have to potentially deal with the consequences if your professor finds out.”

you nod, humming in response. that would be terrible.

sugawara then emerges from the maze of bookshelves, holding up a book towards you with a smile on his face. “found one,” he beams, tossing it atop the messy table.

you reach for the book as sugawara pulls out his chair whilst he mutters something to his daichi about his whereabouts.

“wuthering heights?” you say the title aloud and capture kiyoko’s attention along with it.

“yeah. have you guys read it?” the silver-haired boy asks. he takes your opinions quite seriously knowing how much of an avid reader you and kiyoko were. whenever he needed book recommendations or opinions, he would always go to you two.

you nod, “i quite liked it.”

“some parts tend to be slow, though.” adds in kiyoko, taking the novel from your hands and flipping through the pages briefly before slipping back over towards sugawara. “it should keep you occupied for a few days.”

you chuckle slightly, giving her a look. “you forget how slow suga is at reading. the few days it takes us to finish a book is a good month for him.”

offense coated sugawara’s expression as he lets out a scoff in retaliation. “don’t you have a chain letter to give to someone?”

“she’s stalling,” tsukishima teases.

“am not!”

“then want to go give it to a random stranger then?”

your brows draw together, “right now?”

tsukishima nods as he stuffs his belongings back into his bag. “i’ll come with you for shits and giggles.”

a sigh escapes you, rolling your eyes as you take a look at the letter one last time and wanting to laugh at yourself for doing all this. a full chain letter from front to back, with the first quarter of it is you viciously apologizing that you had to do this in neat cursive handwriting, all written in fifteen minutes.

you gave in.

“fine,” you huff as you grab your own bag as well.

“good luck,” kiyoko muses up at you as you squeeze past her.

tsukishima waits for you until you’re by his side, strides shorter than usual just to match your pace as you two navigate through the labyrinthine arrays of bookshelves. the letter was in your hand, all small and discrete for a quick and easy delivery to an unsuspecting victim. your palm perspired slightly as you kept your eyes open, scanning for an easy person as you were aware of the possible repercussions.

you could easily get in trouble for doing something this childish, but you were in too deep already.

“hurry up and find someone, we’re almost at the entrance already.” tsukishima hisses in a harsh whisper.

“i’m working on it!” you hiss back.

“working on what?” a familiar voice asks then, capturing both you and tsukishima’s attention, whipping your heads towards the owner.

kuroo combed his freehand through his hair while he had two textbooks tucked under his other arm. he gave you a smile.

you never really got close with kuroo despite meeting him at nationals a few years back. despite only talking a few times due to him being good friends with tsukishima, you knew he was nice, incredibly smart in the sciences, and yet oddly awkward for someone as good looking as he.

not him, you thought to yourself, too nice.

“a little project,” the blond immediately answers just like that. “our majors tend to overlap sometimes, so we decided to partner up.”

“nice, i’m here with my friends to study as well.” kuroo states, causing your eyes to scan behind them for any evidence of their rambunctious selves.

like kuroo, you weren’t close with any of them either. if anything, they were just mere acquaintances on the precipice of becoming strangers. regardless, they all seemed quite nice too from your lack of interaction with them.

tsukishima says something in response then, igniting a short little catch-up conversation with an old high school friend as you lay distracted. your eyes flicked down to a study table in front of you, one of the chairs just a foot shy from you had a satchel hanging off of its side. the brown leather flap was wide open with its owner nowhere in sight as you gave your surroundings a once over.

carefully, you made your way over the table, pretending as if you were taking something out of your bag as kuroo was being distracted by the blond. neither of them were looking at you fortunately. as you placed your bag back over your shoulder, you slipped the letter right into the open satchel right at the same time–the envelope falling and disappearing into the depths of the bag.

“i’ve got to get to my next lecture,” you say to the two men, giving tsukishima a sly wink that it was a job well done. “i’ll see you guys around.”

checkmate.

fun facts! —

after kiyoko graduated and moved to tokyo, (y/n) and kiyoko kept in touch by sending each other cute handwritten letters

no one really is aware of that area in the back of the library since no one goes in that section often (this is uhh,, an important detail for later 😳)

taglist: (comment or send an ask to be added!)

@channiechanchan @elianetsantana @suhkusa @agaashesmilktea @dwcljh @duhsies @thevillagehiddenintheinternet @kitsunetea @morpheus-rex @noeminemi @ntimacy @kurokenchan @kittyddandnyla @amboisez @komouri @stargirlara @itsmeaudrieee @immxnty @spicyshinsou @bombardia @yammerss @crescenttooru @tadashi-simp @sunanyaa @saikishairclip @marvel-ing-at-it-all @seijqhigh @normalisthenewnorm @allielozoya @peteunderoos @inflxxtions @peg-legz4 @kawafika @apollochjld @bap-kingdom @yongboxerrr @kenssister @galacticyoongs

[leejungchans]

— new girl.

juliet’s masterlist

word count: 1.5k

set in late 2016

summary: in which juliet makes two new friends on her first day at kq as a trainee.

a/n: uM turns out this is the first predebut scenario for juliet!! as always, let me know what you think and feel free to chat with me in my inbox!! thanks for reading and ily 💕🥺 take care!!

“And here’s the final stop of our mini tour, the practice room,” the company staff tells Juliet kindly as they stop outside said room, which is still dark as no one else had arrived yet. “You’re our only female trainee, so you can train with the boys. They’re sweethearts, but you can always come to us if there’s any trouble, okay?”

“Okay, thank you,” Juliet replies meekly.

The older woman smiles in response as she unlocks the door, stepping inside the room to turn on the lights. “We’re a bit early, so you can just wait here until the others and the instructor arrives. I’ll be at the front desk if you need anything. Good luck on your first day!”

The girl quietly thanks the woman, watching her disappear down the dimly-lit hallway before hesitantly entering the practice room. Truth be told, she never expected herself to be a trainee once again, having thought that her experience at SM was enough for a lifetime. But deep down, she knew that if she didn’t give it a second try—hence why she is now here—she’d spend the rest of her life being regretful and thinking about the what if’s.

Juliet also didn’t expect herself to be so early. She was told to come in a little earlier after school so the staff could give her a quick tour of the building before training starts, but she had expected at least some of the trainees to be here already.

Then again, she’s gotten a lot more introverted ever since moving to Seoul, so perhaps it’s a good thing that she has a few moments to herself.

Still, Juliet has never felt this awkward in her life. Scared? Maybe not. Nothing will ever beat the sheer intimidation and fear she felt on her first day at SM, and though she’s only trained there for two years—much less than most of the friends she met there—she already feels like she’s gone through the wringer. Still, being in a new environment with no idea what to expect is unnerving, especially when it’s so different compared to what she is used to.

Juliet looks around the room tentatively before sitting down on the ground, her back pressing against the cold wall. She takes the time to text her aunt that she’s arrived before shoving her phone back into her bag, not wanting to ruin her first impression on anyone by being on her phone.

She doesn’t know how long she’s being tracing the pattern on the wood flooring with a finger when the door to the practice room bursts open, revealing a tall boy around her age standing in the doorway.

Before Juliet can scramble up to greet who she presumes is her fellow trainee, the boy is already beaming at her as he introduces himself. “Hi! You must be the female trainee the staff told us about! My name’s Jeong Yunho, what’s yours?”

“Baek Minyoung. Or Juliet, whichever you prefer,” she says before bowing to him. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Juliet,” Yunho tries, still smiling brightly. She wonders how someone can be so cheerful after a long day, but his joyful disposition is definitely not unwelcome. “That’s a pretty name! Did you grow up abroad?”

“Yeah, I’m from Australia, but I’ve been living in Seoul since 2014.”

Yunho nods, eyes sparkling with amazement. “That’s cool! I’ve always wanted to go there. Is this your first time being a trainee?” he asks as they sit, ensuring that there’s a reasonable distance between them as to not make her uncomfortable. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Juliet, and she smiles wider to show her gratefulness.

“No, I trained under another company for two years before coming here,” she says quietly, omitting the name of said company to avoid being asked about her time there.

As though sensing her reluctance, Yunho dances around the topic. “Then you’re already a lot more experienced than most of us, so you don’t have anything to worry about! Did they give you a tour of the building yet?”

“Yeah, but it was pretty brief, so I might forget a lot of it after today,” Juliet admits sheepishly.

Yunho giggles. “Don’t stress it, the same happened to me too! But Hongjoong-hyung—he’s another trainee here, but he won’t be here today because he has another class—helped me, so if you need someone to show you around, I’d be more than happy to!”

Juliet smiles shyly. “Thank you, that’d be really great. Speaking of the other trainees, where is everyone?”

“Oh, they’re still probably at school or on the way here! We can keep talking until our trainer arrives—he’s really nice, so you don’t have to be nervous—or we can just... sit, if you don’t really want to talk. Either is fine!”

Now it’s Juliet’s turn to laugh. “No, no, we can totally chat! I don’t know much about anyone or anything here, so that can be a place to start!”

Turns out Yunho was extremely easy to talk to, and Juliet found that the following fifteen minutes or so passed by as though they were nothing.

It was slightly awkward when the trainee arrived with just the two of them in the room, but that remedied itself when a second boy, just as tall as Yunho, burst into the room, mumbling apologies for being late as the trainer simply laughed and told him to get ready.

The atmosphere was definitely more lighthearted than what Juliet was used to at SM, perhaps due to the jarring difference in the number of trainees in the room. Not that the trainer didn’t take them seriously—in fact, quite the opposite—it was just that everyone was less... tense and had more room to joke around.

The change wasn’t unwelcome, and Juliet finally understood what Yunho meant when he told her she didn’t have to be too nervous.

She does find it slightly nerve-wracking that the second boy would occasionally look at her confusedly whenever Yunho talked to her, but she supposes that it’s inevitable whenever a new trainee joins the company. Hell, it happened plenty of times at her former company as so many trainees would come and go, and everyone would be eager to get to know the new trainees. Some because they wanted to make new friends, others because they wanted to assess and intimidate the competition.

Juliet hopes that in this case, it won’t be the latter.

When they’re given a 5-minute break, all three of them walk back to where their bags are to take a sip—or rather, huge gulps—of water.

“You did great!” Yunho tells her, his bright smile never leaving his face despite how tired they all are.

“Thank you, so did you!”

“By the way, this is my friend Mingi,” Yunho introduces, patting his friend’s back to get his attention. “Mingi, this is Juliet. It’s her first day here.”

“Hi,” Mingi rumbles in his deep voice, “I was a bit confused back there because I thought you two were already friends because you seemed so friendly, but I didn’t recall Yunho having mentioned you before. Sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable from the staring.”

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it,” Juliet tells him, smiling to reassure him because of how apologetic he sounded. “Yunho’s just really friendly. I would’ve been an awkward mess if he didn’t talk to me first.” The tips of Yunho’s ears turn pink from her praise. “Did you two meet here too?”

Mingi shakes his head. “Nope, we’ve been friends for a few years before we came here.”

She can’t help but blurt out, “Do you only have tall friends?”

The two boys freeze, taken aback, though they quickly recover after a few seconds and burst into giggles.

“No, because we have you as a friend now,” Yunho says cheekily. Juliet can’t even find it in her to be offended, not when they just called her their friend. “Don’t worry, you’re young, you still have time to grow taller! Wait, when we’re you born?”

“2001.”

Mingi grins. “See? You’re fifteen? Sixteen? You have time! Plus, you’re not even that short now!”

“Easy for you two to say! I feel like I’m gonna strain my neck someday from talking to you guys!”

Yunho and Mingi exchange looks before crouching down to her height, though they don’t last long before they whine about how the position makes their thighs burn, especially from all the dancing they did, making Juliet giggle.

“Do you wanna get food with us later?” the older boy asks as he stands back up to his full height. “There’s this stall around the corner from the building that makes really good tteokbokki! Mingi and I always go there after training. You know, we gotta reward ourselves somehow.”

The girl smiles hesitantly. “I mean... if you don’t mind me tagging along, then I’d love to join.”

“Why would we mind? We’re friends now, aren’t we?”

“We... are?”

“You sound so unsure!” Mingi whines. She doesn’t know how she saw Mingi as scary earlier, because all those feelings of intimidation she felt towards him dissipated into thin air the moment they started talking. “C’mon, say it with more confidence!”

“We are!”

“That’s the spirit!”

a/n: “yunho dances around the topic” haha get it bc he’s a dancer 🤩🤩 i’m so sorry i’ll go show myself out 🚪🚶🏻‍♀️ anyways yungi best boys and i will not accept alternate opinions ✨✨ please feel free to leave feedback and chat with me, and have a good day!! ❤️

[nowoyas]

This is Home (NSFW)

A/N: Title references the song This is Home by Cavetown, which you can’t tell me isn’t an entire trans mood. Give it a listen, y’all. It’s one of my faves <3

This fic is part of @birds-have-teeth​‘s Izumonth collab to celebrate Izuku’s birth month. For the lineup, head over here!

(izuku with binder edit and overall banner both made by me)

Summary: When your boyfriend starts distancing himself not long into your relationship, you decide to confront him and remind him just how loved he is. (trans!Izuku x reader)

Notes: Izuku is a pre-op, pre-T trans man for this fic. Reader is implied to be a cis girl. I am trans. In this fic, I am writing Izuku experiencing something I have and do struggle with and I swear to god if anyone clowns in my inbox because I wrote this I will literally fling them out the window, killing them instantly. Not on this one, assholes.

Warnings: smut, oral (reader giving), gender dysphoria, smut smut smut, I cried but you might not

Word count: 5555 (sexy)

Izuku has been avoiding you.

It's not obvious, not at first. Your honestly wonderful boyfriend is more than happy to text you good morning and good night as always, even on the nights where he goes to sleep at 4AM, and it's not as though the amount of cute emoji following the texts has changed. He still eats breakfast with you after his (very early) morning run, still eats lunch with you and your combined friend group, still eats dinner with you whenever he doesn't forget to eat. (You're working on getting him to remember to eat at all the right times.) 

But one-on-one study sessions get cancelled. He now trains seemingly whenever you can't, even though you used to train together all the time. It's all the small things, like how he used to kiss you suddenly all the time whenever it was just the two of you, but now, you're hardly ever alone together often enough even if he still did. And maybe you're imagining it, but the usual sleep and wake texts are less enthusiastic than before. 

You want to believe that maybe the two of you are just progressing from the honeymoon stage of your relationship, but this doesn't feel like progress. 

This feels like distance. 

This feels like he’s afraid to be alone with you.

You don't want to pry, but something's up with him, and you've got an inkling of exactly what. One thing's for certain, though—you're not letting him go another day thinking he can't talk to you about it. Knowing him, no matter what the issue is, he's convinced himself it would bother you for him to ask for reassurance or something to that effect.

And so, perhaps a bit shamelessly, you corner him.

Well, not physically. You're not that mean.

But when you knock on his door when you know he's there alone and he answers, you don't give him a chance to brush you off. You shove your way right into his room and take a seat on the edge of his bed.

"Talk," you demand, crossing your arms as he flusters and shuts the door behind him.

"[n-name], is something wrong—"

"Talk," you repeat, leveling a glare at him. "You've been acting weird around me lately. If it's something you're not comfortable talking about, that's okay, but if I've done something to make you avoid me, I want to talk about it and figure out how to fix it."

Izuku flinches, taking an awkward seat on his bed. (The other end of his bed. You try not to let show just how much that stings.)

"Y-you haven't done anything wrong," he forces out evenly, not looking at you. "I swear."

You shift closer to him, placing a hand over his own. "Izuku, look at me."

Green eyes meet yours. There's guilt there, and an underlying fear with a source you can only guess at.

"I love you, babe. I want to help you. You don't have to let me, but I really—fuck—" You sniff, pulling back to wipe at your eyes before you let any tears fall. "—shit, sorry. I just... I'm worried about you, and I don't want to lose you, y'know?"

He panics, crossing the distance between you within moments to pull you into a tight hug. His hand winds into your hair, the other settling in the small of your back and rubbing soothingly as he shushes you. "No, oh my god, angel, I-I never meant to make you think you did anything wrong. Really, it's not you, it's me!"

Your blood turns to ice in an instant at his words. "T-that's the kind of shit people say when they're explaining why they're breaking up with you, Izuku."

"N-no! That's not—That's not what this is. I love you too, I love you so much, I just... I'm scared, okay?" he admits, face pressed into your neck.

"Scared?"

He nods, hugging you just a smidge tighter. "Yeah. Scared."

"Of what, handsome?" You finally relax into his hold, snuggling into his shoulder with a sigh as you try to rein in the tears.

"It's probably stupid, and it doesn't really matter that much."

"Izuku babe."

"Yes?"

"Did it make you feel something?"

He hesitates before nodding slowly.

"Then it's not stupid, and it matters to me."

Izuku shudders in your arms, mumbling something you don't quite catch.

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

He shifts, repeating himself just loud enough to be heard. "I wanna go further with you but I hate my body and don't want to take my clothes off to do it," he says, speaking so quickly you almost miss it a second time.

You freeze, a light blush on your cheeks. It's true that you've not gone that far with Izuku—he always seemed content just to kiss and cuddle and exchange sweet words behind closed doors, and god, you were happy just to have him in any capacity. Unfortunately—or perhaps fortunately—there's bigger problems at hand than "your cute boyfriend wants to fuck you". 

"Oh, Izu," you breathe. "You know you don't have to push yourself, baby. It's okay if you're uncomfortable with—"

"B-but I shouldn't be!" he insists, wriggling away to look into your eyes with a pained look. "I don't wanna be uncomfortable. Not with you. I just... don't know how to... how to not be, and I didn't want things to escalate if I got alone with you because then I'd probably panic and push you away and then you'd probably feel hurt a-and it'd be my fault so I was avoiding you so I couldn’t hurt you before I was ready and then–"

"Izuku," you say firmly. "Don't push yourself for my sake. I'd feel awful knowing you did something like that for me. It's okay if we just kiss. It's okay if we never kiss. What's not okay is you forcing yourself into a dysphoric breakdown because you wanted to please me. If we fuck, I want it to be something we both enjoy, and I can't enjoy it if it's upsetting you or making you uncomfortable."

He tears up, yanking you back into a hug. "I'm s-sorry, [name]."

You laugh, tangling your hands in his curls and gently working knots out with your fingers. "You don't need to apologize, baby. I love you. And you know..."

"Mm?"

You smirk, looping a curl around one finger. Perhaps deliberately, your voice drops into a seductive, teasing voice. "If your biggest problem is either of us seeing your body, there's a few solutions. No one said you had to take your clothes off when we fuck, handsome."

He squeaks, and you swear you can feel his face heating up in your shoulder when he whines. He doesn't protest, so you continue, a grin spreading across your face.

"If you don't want me seeing you, you can always blindfold me," you offer, "or we could turn the lights off, or if you don't want to have to see yourself, I could blindfold you..."

"[N-name]!" Izuku yelps, burying his face into your chest to hide. "Stoooop, oh my god–"

Laughter bubbles from your throat. "Sorry, sorry. But those were honest suggestions. If you really wanna mess around with me a bit, I'm happy to let you set the pace. We kiss as much as you want, however heavy you want... Hell, I might even be into it if you order me around a little. Who knows?"

"O-order you?" You don't have to see him to know how red his face is—you can almost feel it through your top, the rush of embarrassment displayed on his freckled cheeks.

"Mhmm. I won't do anything you aren’t explicitly okay with. And the moment you want to stop, you tell me as much, and we can stop. But you know, I'm in love with you no matter what, and that includes your wonderfully strong body and your cute, handsome face. You light up any room you enter and make me want to work hard for my future. It’s not about your body. The fact that you're hot is a bonus, not the selling point."

He sniffles gently. You carefully go back to working through his hair. "But again, no matter how you want this to go, I'm okay with it. Your comfort first, baby."

He pulls out of the hug, worrying his lip between his teeth as he watches you. "If you're really okay with it, then... i-is it okay if I just kiss you, and we feel it out from there?"

You smile softly. "Go ahead, handsome."

Despite all the kisses you've shared before, every new kiss between you is charged with affection. Izuku can't help it if he melts into every kiss you share—your lips are so soft and you smell so nice and he loves you so much! Before he knows it, he's smoothing a palm against the back of your neck and deepening the kiss, moving his lips hesitantly against your own. He parts just enough to murmur against your lips: "I love you" and "tell me if you want me to stop" and "you can touch my arms if you want". (He knows you do. You only confirm it when your fingertips immediately drag along his upper arms, appreciating the muscles there.)

Before he knows it, he's swiping his tongue against your bottom lip tentatively and pulling you into his lap. You've been more than charitable—your hands remain carefully on his arms, your tongue in your own mouth even as he explores yours. You really won't go a step further than he asks for, and his heart swells at the confirmation. When he breaks the kiss, both of you are breathing heavy, a fact which draws extra attention to the fact that he's still wearing his chest binder.

"I-I want to kiss your neck. I-it's okay if you touch me, j-just please not my chest o-or my... Um, you know."

You mock-salute, a comically serious look on your face that clashes with your flushed cheeks. "Yes, sir! No chest, no ass, no between-thighs!"

The smile that pulls at his lips is utterly love-drunk as he leans back in, first pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your lips and trailing tiny pecks along your jawline. When he reaches your neck, he hesitates, and you wait to slide your arms over his shoulders. "Hun?" you say gently. "Still good?"

Green eyes flick up to yours, intense but wavering. "Y-yeah. I can do this."

Without any other warning, he places a hot, open-mouthed kiss directly onto your pulse, drawing a gasp from you when his teeth graze you just enough for you to feel it. Your hands slide down his back to find purchase as he continues, switching between peppering light kisses to your neck and honestly, doing pretty much anything that won't leave a mark.

Meantime, it's all you can do to gasp and whimper as he finds all your soft spots and goes on the full attack, and his hands roam your sides, climbing up until you're sure he's going to grope you–

And then he flinches and pulls back, just slightly. There's a quiet hiss through his teeth at the movement.

You'd love to whine at the loss, and normally, you probably would. But this is Izuku, and if you're going to let him set the pace, you're damn well going to let him set the pace.

You remove your hands from him completely, watching him with concerned eyes. "Everything alright?"

His heart twists at how gentle and concerned you are. One moment, you're huffing and looking at him with nothing but lust as he kisses your neck, the next, your brow's furrowed as you search him for any signs of fear or panic. 

He really doesn't deserve you.

"Do you want to stop?" you ask, voice soft in the way he's seen you use to talk to frightened animals.

He shakes his head, flattening a palm against his chest. "Sorry, sorry. M-my chest is just hurting a little."

"How long have you been binding today?" you ask without missing a beat.

A hand comes up to rub the back of his neck. "I, uh, I took it off during Hero Basic earlier..."

"And had it on all day before?" you ask, hands on your hips. "And all day since then?"

He nods sheepishly, refusing to meet your eyes. 

"Izuku..." You sigh. "I said I wanted you to be comfortable, but I also want you to be safe. Please take your binder off? I can look away while you do, I just don't want you to hurt yourself."

"I..." Izuku sighs, twiddling his thumbs nervously. "A-actually, could you, um..."

"I can leave the room if it'd make you feel better," you offer.

"N-no! That's not what I meant." He wraps his arms around your waist, refusing to let you leave. "I-I, um, wanted to try..." His face is beet red, and in a panic, he buries his face in your chest to hide his embarrassment. "C-can you help me out of it?" he finally squeaks out.

"Oh, Izu. Of course I can help you." You gently maneuver his face away from your chest, carefully reaching up to work at his tie. "Let me know the second you want me to stop, okay?"

He nods, squeezing his eyes shut. "Okay."

"Would it help if I kissed you while I get your top off?"

After a long moment, he nods, hiding his blushing face in his hands. His hands stay there until you gently pull them away with a soft giggle. "I can't kiss you if you're hiding your perfect face, handsome."

He gives you a wobbly smile, and you pull him towards you with a gentle tug at his tie. You're careful not to push too far as you kiss him—soft, open-mouthed kisses that have him whining as you try furiously to get this damn knot untied. How'd he even manage to get it like this? 

Nevertheless, eventually you do manage to get the knot undone and start working carefully on the buttons of his school shirt. Once you're halfway down, you pull back to murmur a soft "are we still okay?" against his lips.

He responds by crashing his lips back onto yours, a hand roaming up your side until this time, he does actually begin to palm one of your breasts over your shirt. Soon, the other hand joins him in just feeling you, and you can't help but sigh against Izuku's lips.

When you reach the lower buttons, you're careful to not let your hands get too far down as you carefully un-tuck his shirt from his pants. You have to force him to stop massaging your breasts long enough to slide his shirt off his shoulders, stopping to roll your eyes in amusement when you find him wearing an undershirt above the binder. You carefully slide the tank top off, leaving him in just his pants and the colorful All Might-themed chest binder you'd sewn for him shortly after he came out to you. Fingers reach for the zipper tab on the front, but don't close around it just yet. Not when Izuku's breathing quickens the way it does, not when his eyes widen in panic.

"Do you want me to step out while you get out of this and put something else on?"

He squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head in silence. "Please just... Wait a minute." You nod, hand slowly retreating as Izuku calms himself. 

"C-can we, um, l-level the playing field a little?" he asks when his breathing is a bit steadier.

You blink in surprise. "In what way, 'Zuku?"

He drapes both arms over his face as he answers in a truthfully adorable squeak. "L-like, um, s-so I'm not the only one t-topless..."

Your smile is fond as you pat his cheek and lean in. "Can I give you a show?" you whisper.

He shivers, nodding almost too excitedly, and you pull away with a little giggle. "Stay right here." You scamper to the door, making doubly sure it's locked, and turn back with a sparkle in your eye. With his full attention on you, you cross back to him and tease at the edge of your shirt. You're slow in your movements, teasing, and his eyes are glued to you, jaw slack as you give him a mini strip-tease. 

Man, it's hard to have low self-esteem with a boyfriend like yours. He drinks in the sight of you like it's the first sight of water he's had in months, adoration and awe and lust and all things positive written plain as day in his expression. When your shirt's properly discarded, you give Izuku a little wink and press a gentle, sweet kiss to his lips. "How are we feeling?"

"Good! G-great! T-this is—yeah. Yeah." His face is flushed, pupils blown. His eyes keep darting between meeting yours and somewhere lower

You quirk a smirk at him, trying not to laugh. "So am I good to unzip you, baby?"

His hands come up to cover his face, green peeking out from between his fingers as he nods. "I-I-I think I'm good."

"You sure? I don't want you to push yourself if you're not comf—"

His hand snatches your wrist, forcing the palm of your hand flat against the center of his chest. You can feel his heart racing beneath your fingertips. "I-if it's you, I can do this. Please."

"Stop me if it gets to be too much, okay?" you hum, carefully pinching the zipper tab and pulling it down slowly. His hand doesn't leave your wrist, but he lets you, exhaling softly when you unzip his binder all the way and free his chest from its confines after a long day.

Izuku panics. Not in the way he feared—he doesn't shove you away, doesn't run, doesn't freeze. But he panics all the same, dragging you into a hot, open-mouthed kiss before you can look at him, before he can see your disgust, before you can make fun of him or change your mind or or or or—

Gentle hands slide the binder off his shoulders with an appreciative hum. You're gentle as you straddle his waist, hands tangling in his hair, and when you go to pull back, he chases your lips. You giggle, trying to pull away to speak, but Izuku's too scared to let you—he almost whines as he continues pressing his lips against yours. 

"Everything good, sweetheart?" you ask as best you can amidst his onslaught.

"No—" slips out from his lips. "—I need you to keep kissing me."

"Hm, I can do that. But tell me if something's wrong, okay?" You punctuate your question with a kiss to his nose. He responds by meeting your lips once more.

He pauses, tugging you into a hug moments after breaking the kiss. "I'm a little scared right now," he admits. "You wouldn't... Hate me for how I look, right?" Tears brim in his eyes and wet his voice as he whispers.

"Never in a million years, Izuku. You're always going to be my handsome, strong boyfriend, until you decide you don't want me around anymore. I love you for who you are, not who you want to be, and I'll tell you as many times as it takes."

His arms shake around you. "Thank you. I love you."

"I love you too," you whisper, slowly pulling back as he releases you. "Is it okay if I kiss you, baby?"

"We were already kissing," he says, trying not to laugh.

You press a slow, sensual kiss to his neck. "I know," you breathe out in open, hot breaths, delighting in the way he shivers. "I meant... escalating."

"O-oh." His face is red, as if it could ever stop being red, and you break into a grin when he nods sheepishly. "I-if you want..."

"I very much want." You nod quickly, dragging your nails along his upper arms and around to his shoulders. Goosebumps follow in your wake. "If you'll let me, I'd like to show you all the parts I love about you. But first?"

"M-mm?"

"Say 'yellow' if you need me to pause or 'red' if you want us to stop entirely, alright? The moment you want me to stop. If you aren't sure, 'yellow'. Please? I don't want to cross any boundaries with you."

"Safewords. Okay, I-I think I can do that. Yellow to pause or slow down, red to stop." He nods slowly, a determined pout on his face. You grin and shoot him an adoring gaze before returning to his neck, one hand finding his to intertwine your fingers. His hand trembles in your grasp, but when you squeeze his hand to reassure him, he's quick to squeeze back. "Green to keep going?"

You nod.

"Okay. I'm okay."

You're slow and careful as you begin to kiss down his body, trailing along his jaw and each shoulder. The pads of your fingers massage along the lines where the seams of his binder had been digging into his skin, eliciting shivers beneath your fingertips. Intermittently, he squeezes the hand you've kept intertwined with his, letting out shaky gasps when you drag your tongue back up to his neck.

"You're doing so well," you purr. It's hard to keep your free hand in one place–you drag it back up to indulge in the fluffy curls atop his head only a moment before lightly dragging your nails down his spine.

Next, you trail your lips back down to his chest, pausing to toy briefly with his chest as he lets out a cascade of moans. "[N-name]..."

"Mm?" Your eyes meet his innocently as you lathe your tongue over his nipple, your heart skipping at the lusty, adoring look on his face. You release him from your mouth with a small pop!, tilting your head. "Still good?"

"No, come back," he whines, tugging at your hand.

A giggle escapes you. "Well, since you asked so nicely..."

He shudders as you dive back in, switching to take his other nipple into your mouth. With your closest hand still occupied in holding his, you aren't able to play with the side you'd previously been kissing at, but Izuku doesn't seem to mind as he practically pushes his chest into your face with another gasp.

Soon, all too soon, you continue in your journey to kiss every inch of Izuku's body, palming at his chest and placing one soft kiss against a freckle situated just above his heart. You giggle when you feel his pulse jump beneath your lips before moving on, pressing kisses in a line down the center of his chest until you've found soft skin.

Your free hand finds his belt, toying with the buckle as you get off his lap and rest on the floor in front of him. "Color?"

He eyes you warily, running his thumb across your hand in a way that feels more like he's soothing himself than you. He doesn't answer.

"Izuku, I need to know if this is okay. If you don't answer, I'll stop."

"Y-yellow," he admits meekly. "I-I think it's easier if I don't think about it, but I just... I want this to happen but every second I'm reminded of all the ways this could end in you leaving me, a-and..."

You immediately move your hand away at his admission. "Thank you for telling me. You’re overthinking it, hun. I’m not gonna leave you. Can I help you at all?"

"Distract me?" He pouts at you, leaning down for a kiss. He's even so bold as to slip his tongue into your mouth as you fumble with his belt buckle one-handed, his hand smoothing over your shoulder and down your bare back until you finally manage to get his belt unbuckled and his pants unbuttoned. Once he's unzipped, you smooth your hand over the small of his back, sitting up on your knees to press into the kiss.

Getting him out of his pants with one hand is a challenge, but you make it work, leaving him to toe off his socks and sit there in a loose pair of boxers, looking nervous and innocent and adorable but mostly just scared.

Now that you've got him mostly undressed, you can finally move back to your mission of making him feel utterly loved and working away that fear of his, littering his stomach and sides with tiny pecks and nibbles that have him giggling as he tries (and fails) to squirm away from your onslaught.

"Great job so far," you mumble, nuzzling your nose into his side playfully. "You're really brave, 'Zuku."

He gasps for air between his laughter, scarcely gaining enough time to breathe before you finally relent enough to let him catch his breath. "I love you," he pants out when he finally gets a chance to look down at you. "Thank you."

"I love you more~" you practically sing, punctuating your sentence by blowing a puff of air at his stomach. He squirms, trying not to laugh any more than he already has. You reach up, gently caressing his cheek, and he presses into your touch. "Color?"

Izuku gnaws at his lip. His face is flushed, cheeks flaming red as he pants. After a long moment that you can only imagine is filled with thoughts too fast for anyone else to understand if only they could hear, he speaks. "Green."

A single soft kiss as your hand slips beneath his boxers, giving his ass a teasing squeeze before sliding them off his legs. His tongue slips in your mouth and roams freely as your hand caresses his inner thigh, until all that's left for you to do other than tease him relentlessly is go for broke. You break free from the kiss, watching his face with a smile as you drag a single finger up his slit, finding his clit with ease once you dip between the folds.

No anxiety rears its head now. His jaw goes slack, eyes squeezed tight with pleasure as you slowly rub his slit, a red flush crawling from his cheeks and down his neck as he tries not to moan too loudly. "[n-name]~"

"Hm?" you purr, pausing your finger as it circles his dripping heat teasingly. "Do you need to stop, green bean?"

"N-no!" His eyes snap open, shooting you a pleading, desperate look. "P-please, green, I need more—"

You drop to sit on your knees in front of him, gently spreading his legs to sit between them. "If you're sure, baby. Thank you for asking nicely."

The only sound that escapes him when you finally, finally lean forward and dart your tongue between his folds is a drawn-out moan. Instantly, his free hand finds your head, tangling through your hair and pulling you close. You welcome the momentum, slipping your tongue inside him and using your thumb to rub small circles against his clit. He moans and writhes against your mouth, hips bucking so uncontrollably you're half-tempted to wrap your free arm around his waist and hold him down as you work him up. (If he didn't still have his fingers entwined with yours, you probably would.)

When it gets too much and you're running out of air, you pull back, panting and gazing down at him in appreciation as he whines. "[naaaaame], I was so—"

"Shh," you coo, replacing your tongue with two deft fingers. "I just need a sec to breathe. You're doing so well, Izuku."

His walls pulse around your fingers at your words, green eyes shining with tears that almost make you stop completely if not for the fact that he's still trying to fuck himself on your fingers. You curl them experimentally, brushing against a spongy spot inside him that has him keening and thrashing against you. You re-position clumsily, dragging him into a kiss to muffle his noises as you continue to assault his g-spot. It’d be bad if someone heard the two of you, after all.

It's not long after that that you manage to push him over the edge, his pleasured moans spilling into your mouth as his walls flutter around you. A scarred hand squeezes around yours tightly as he manages to babble your name. You pump your fingers into his dripping cunt just a little bit longer, giving him something to ride out his orgasm on until his moaning turns into whimpers and his hips still. You smile softly when, upon trying to pull away to sit in a less awkward position, he pulls you back to kiss you again

You slowly remove your fingers from him, taking the small window he gives you to sit beside him on the bed and kiss the scar on his hand. His shoulders shudder as you pull him into your lap and a tight hug. "You did so well, Izuku," you coo into his ear.

He sniffles and would have launched himself at you if not for the fact that he was already as close as he could get—his arms lock you into place, snuggling into you tightly as he sobs.

"Is everything okay, Izu? What’s got you upset, green bean?" You carefully wipe your fingers on the sheets before beginning to card your fingers through his hair.

"I-I don't—I don't know! I'm sorry, I—"

"Shh, it's okay. You're okay, Izu. You did so well." You begin to pepper his temples in light kisses. 

"I-I always thought that—that I'd never get any of this. That if I ever—ever found someone like you and loved them and they actually loved me, that they'd never... 'cus I'm... f-for a lot of reasons, they wouldn't ever want to do anything like this with me," he babbles, finding every word more difficult to force out than the last. "They'd... they'd get to this point and then they'd realize that this isn't... that I'm not what they want. What they ever wanted. But... this is real. It is, isn't it?"

"It's real, Izuku."

He breaks at that. "Thank you. I'm sorry. I love you."

You patiently run your fingers through his hair, working through any knots you find and trying not to let yourself cry with him. "It's okay, baby. I love you too."

"I'm sorry," he repeats. Hot tears begin to drop onto your shoulder as he tries to bring himself even closer. "I'm so sorry."

"You have nothing to apologize for, honey," you insist. "Really."

"I-I never thought I'd be..." He trails off, lets out another sob.

Your heart wrenches, and you smooth your hand over his back. "Loved?"

His silence speaks volumes.

"Oh gosh, Izu." You want to hold him close, to kiss him until he forgets every self-deprecating thought he's ever had. But you're already holding him, already as close as you can get, and genuinely, if you see his face right now, it won't be long before you're also bursting into tears. So you stay there, rubbing circles into his back as you search for the words—any words—to help him understand just how you feel. "You know I love you, right? I said it earlier, and I'll say it as many times as you need me to."

"I love you too," he mumbles, his tears finally beginning to subside. You wriggle your way from him, just enough to press soft kisses to his face.

"I mean it. More than anything, I love you. Thank you for trusting me. Thank you for being honest with me, and thank you for confiding in me." With every "thank you" and "I love you", you pause to press another kiss to his face. The wrenching in your chest finally subsides when, after the fourth tiny kiss, he lets out a giggle. "Thank you for existing, baby. I'm so fucking glad I met you, and even if we'd never done this, even if we'd never gotten together, I'd still be glad I met you. You're loved, Izuku, and I'll remind you every day, every hour, if you need me to. As often as it takes for you to never question it again."

"Thank you. Sorry."

You laugh, pressing a kiss to his nose. "Stop apologizing. We here at [name], Inc. are of the official opinion that Mister Izuku Midoriya has never done anything wrong, ever, and will not be accepting constructive criticism at this time."

Finally, a proper laugh bubbles from his throat, and he finds it in himself to smile at you—complete, adoring, loving. He even lets himself believe it as the two of you lay down cuddled up to each other. 

As long as he's by your side, he thinks he can continue to believe it. 

He's complete. Adored. Loved.

[stuffthatbard]

Good Puppy

Tags: Jaskier/Yennefer, Puppy Play, Light Dom/sub, Oral Sex, Cunnilingus, Collars, Cock Cages, Butt Plugs, Vibrators, Multiple Orgasms, Forced Orgasm, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Sub Jaskier, Dom Yennefer, Humiliation, Omorashi, Watersports, Breathplay, Aftercare, Praise Kink, Spooning, Consensual Kink

Ummmm prompts sitting in my inbox? What prompts haha

--

When Yennefer first suggested it, Jaskier thought she was kidding. Pretending to be a dog? Like a kid playing make-believe? He didn’t understand how anyone could find it arousing, but the idea did intrigue him, and so he agreed to try it out.

He hadn’t expected to like it quite this much, but something about the way she treated him—loving, yes, but somehow still beneath her—got him off like a rocket.

And even beyond that, beyond the fact that a sighed “Puppy,” could have heat curling in his gut immediately, he found that he quite liked the submission of it as well—whenever they played, he didn’t have to worry about anything. He only had to be a good boy and listen to her—or, if he was bad, to take his punishment. But he was rarely bad—pleasing her earned him praise that he desperately craved.

And one day, when they’re lying together in bed, sweat cooling on their bodies, Yennefer brings up something more. “What would you say,” she muses, fingers curling round his hair, “to being my puppy all the time?”

“All the time?”

“Only at home,” she amends herself. “The rest of the world doesn’t get to see you like this. Only I do,” she purrs, tugging at a lock of his hair, sending a shiver down his spine.

He bites his lip. It’s a daunting thought, but he can’t deny that he’s interested. “What would that mean?” he asks.

“The same rules would apply—you would always wear a collar, and you wouldn’t be allowed on the furniture, and you would sleep in your crate—unless you’ve been good and I let you join me in bed,” she says.

He hesitates.

“You can say no. We can keep doing this, only playing occasionally.” She pets a hand over his hair, inadvertently reminding him exactly why it is he loves this.

“I want to,” he blurts out. “I want to try it.”

Settling into life as her puppy is much easier than Jaskier thought it would be. The only challenge is this: When Yennefer is at work, and he’s left home alone, he can’t quite settle into the mindset. He supposes he doesn’t have to, not while Yennefer isn’t here. He can’t sink fully into being her puppy, but it feels wrong not to, and so he’s caught in a sort of in-between state, with all the desires of a human being and none of the restraint to stop himself from acting on them.

He doesn’t think twice about pleasuring himself while she’s gone—she won’t be home for hours yet, after all, and he’s so horny he could cry. Surely it won’t hurt much if he rubs one out, right? He has needs, after all, and if she’s not there to help him fill them, well…

He hops up on her bed, buries his face in the sheets that have her scent on them, and starts rutting against the mattress, thoughts of silken skin and sharp nails filling his mind. He’s close, so close, on the edge of coming—whimpering and gasping—

He hears the door open.

The shock of being caught by Yennefer summons his orgasm immediately, that wicked little exhibitionist streak he’s always had rearing its head. But it’s not as satisfying, ruined by the sudden thought that she’s seen him breaking the rules.

He stares at her, breathing heavily, and she stares back. He expects yelling, he expects her to grab his collar and drag him off the bed, berate him—he expects anything except what actually happens.

“Aw, did puppy make a mess?” she coos, walking over and dragging a finger through the cum painting the sheets. He whines, face burning in embarrassment, burying his face in the sheets so he doesn’t have to look at her.

“None of that now,” she says sternly, but her fingers are gentle when they scratch behind his ear. She coaxes him to lift his head, tugging gently at his collar until he looks at her. “It’s alright, I should have known you couldn’t control yourself.”

He perks up a bit—does this mean he’s not in trouble?

He keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop, for his punishment to come, but she doesn’t do anything that night. Is it a test? Is she leaving him waiting in anticipation, to make it all the more intense when it finally comes?

He’s almost forgotten about it by the time she comes home the next day—later than usual, and carrying a shopping bag, though from this angle, he can’t see what’s inside it. Curiosity is eating him up, but puppies can’t ask questions—and he’s determined be good for her, not wanting to remind her of his recent transgressions.

He greets her enthusiastically, nuzzling into the vee of her legs—maybe she’ll even let him apologize the way he knows best, until she’s shaking with pleasure.

She catches on immediately—of course she does. She’s a good owner, always knows what her puppy wants—though that doesn’t mean she gives it to him, of course. “Do you want to say sorry?” she asks, reaching down to pet his hair.

He whines and nods, eager to earn her forgiveness.

“Go sit on the bed,” she instructs, and he leaps to obey. He’ll show her just how good he can be, and secretly he hopes that he might be rewarded for it.

Antsy with anticipation, he fidgets in place, though he doesn’t dare get up and pace. She doesn’t make him wait long—she follows shortly after, carrying the same bag, which she sets aside. Though he’s burning with curiosity about what’s inside it—and whether it’s meant for him—his attention is pulled away by her shutting the door and beginning to strip, revealing skin that he’s itching to taste. If he had a tail, it would be wagging right now.

She climbs atop the bed and leans back against the headboard, looking every inch the regal queen despite—or maybe because of—her nudity. Her legs part, revealing a glimpse of her cunt, already starting to get wet.

As much as he wants to leap into action, kissing and licking, he’s been trained better than that. He waits until she pulls him in place with a finger hooked around his collar, nudging his head down, before he starts to lave his tongue over her.

His licks are sloppy, uncoordinated, but no lesser for his eagerness. Slick drips down his chin, mixing with drool as he salivates, relishing the taste of her sweet cunt.

After she shakes apart on his tongue once, walls clenching around nothing, she tugs him up by the collar, and he shifts his attention to her clit, licking and sucking until she’s moaning, legs trembling with another orgasm. He knows better than to stop, and returns to licking between her labia, dipping his tongue inside as she shudders.

He flutters his tongue, teeth just barely grazing her clit, and she grinds down, smothering him, though he doesn’t complain. He laps up the slick that gushes forth like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted, licking her clean until, oversensitive, she pulls him away with two fingers hooked in his collar.

“Good boy,” she croons, once she catches her breath, and pulls him into a kiss, tasting herself on his tongue. “Apology accepted.”

His heart soars. He’s been forgiven, and he’s been good! He whines with pleasure, nipping gently at her lips until she pushes him away and sits up.

He watches as she leans over and pulls the bag closer—he’d forgotten, and his heart drops when he sees the first item she pulls out. “Oh, don’t be like that,” she coaxes upon seeing his face. “This is to help you be a good boy. You want to be good, right?”

He whines. He does want to be good, but this—a cock cage? Forget a reward, this is perhaps the worst punishment she could give him.

Will she ever allow him to come again? And what about—he gulps—what about when he needs to piss? He trusts her with his life, but not enough to trust that she won’t delight in making him squirm.

But he doesn’t stop her when she leans forward and fits it around his cock and balls, the cold metal making him flinch back. “Stop that,” she admonishes, flicking lightly at the head of his cock, and he yelps.

It’s a painful few minutes as she waits for his erection to go down enough to fasten the cage closed and lock it, tucking the key away. “There we go,” she coos. “Now we shouldn’t have any more accidents.”

He whines again.

“And,” she continues, “I have a treat for you.” He perks up as she pulls another item out of the bag—a tail plug, and his eyes go wide in arousal when he sees it.

She laughs, but not meanly. “Turn around and present.”

He does, holding his cheeks open the way she taught him to allow better access—and because ‘it makes such a pretty sight,’ according to her.

He jumps at the first press of a slick finger at his hole, but leans back into it as she works him open, little whimpers making their way out of his mouth. The plug slides in easily, popping past the tight ring of muscle and settling right up against his prostate. The fur of the tail brushes against the inside of his sensitive thigs, and it sends him half mad with sensation.

He feels a sudden sharp sting on his ass—she’s spanked him, just to see the way he yelps and clenches around the plug, yelping again when it drives the plug further in, pressing just so against his most sensitive spot.

He forces himself to settle, consciously relaxing his muscles and giving himself some relief. Experimentally, he wiggles his lower half, the tail swinging side to side, and earns an appreciative hum from Yennefer. “Do you like that, puppy?” she purrs. “I certainly do.”

He nods, turning around and nuzzling up against her thigh. She really is good to him.

“Wait until I show you the best part,” she says, rummaging around in the bag once more. Jaskier hears a small click, and then suddenly he feels the plug start to vibrate, forcing precum to weep out of his caged cock, which is valiantly trying to get hard again despite its bonds.

His fingers scrabble against the sheets, trying in vain to find something to cling to as he rides the waves of vibrations. He whines, thrusting his hips forward into the sheets by instinct, but he can’t get any stimulation on his poor caged cock. His desperate humping is as useless as his cock is now.

He buries his face against her leg, whining still, and she takes pity, switching the vibrations off. “I’ve put you through a lot tonight, I know,” she murmurs, petting his hair. “We’ll play with that later.”

He remains frustrated and unsatisfied until he falls asleep, but he’s at least grateful to be forgiven and even allowed a place in her bed.

When he wakes up the next morning, he expects Yennefer to take the cage off. Maybe this was just a brief punishment, a test, and she’ll let him come since he’s been so good.

But she just laughs at his hopeful look—“Silly puppy. This is for your own good, remember?”—and leaves it on. And to make matters worse, he knows that she’s going to be busy all day today—she’ll be home, but most likely locked away in her office while she works.

The sole consolation is that she won’t have the time to torture him with pleasure, something she delights in doing whenever they’re home together. But she won’t be giving him any attention, either.

He dozes for a bit, whiling away the morning, until he gets too bored and goes searching for anything else to do. He would jerk off, but, well, that’s not an option anymore. He considers going to bother Yennefer, but even before thinking about it he knows it’s a bad idea. And he’s trying to be good, after all.

It’s around noon when the urge to pee gets really bad. He’s been holding it all morning, ignoring the steadily-growing urge, but it’s truly undeniable now. Hanging his head, he goes over to her office, scratching at the door to get her attention. The door doesn’t open, though. Heart clenching, he whines, knowing that she’ll be angry with him for disturbing her, but he’s desperate at this point—good boys don’t have accidents, after all, and he’s perilously close to one.

His bladder is straining, almost as if he can feel the piss sloshing around inside. After a wave of need hits him particularly hard, his hands fly down to his cock, squeezing as firmly as he can despite the cage in the way. He needs to go.

He starts to cry, tears of frustration and desperation falling down his face, hiccupping whines making their way out of his mouth. “Jaskier, stop whining. I’m busy,” Yennefer calls from the other side of the door.

So she knows he’s there, and she won’t come to help. Jaskier knows, then, with absolute certainty, that he’s going to piss himself. He’s going to piss right here, right on the floor, through his cage, and it’s going to get everywhere, and Yennefer is going to be mad, and—

He’s peeing before he can even finish the thought, hot piss hissing against the bars of the cage, dribbling onto the floor into a hot puddle, soaking his legs. The relief is great, but it’s overpowered by the intense guilt and shame of the action. He’s pissing on the floor. Like an untrained puppy.

Though his eyes are squeezed shut, he hears the door to the office open. He whines, not meeting her eyes, shoulders hunched up.

“Bad puppy,” she admonishes—the exact words he feared. “What have I told you about making a mess?”

He whines, but it’s cut off as she wraps a finger around his collar and pulls him after her. He rushes to catch up, limbs uncoordinated, weak with relief and heavy with dread. She drags him to the bathroom, has him clamber into the tub, and turns the faucet on full blast. He yelps, the water stinging his skin—at least she’s using warm water, rather than cold. It’s still not something he was expecting, and he’s left dripping but clean in the aftermath.

She towels him dry, rough but not painful, except for when she tweaks his nipples or yanks at a strand of hair or tugs at his tail. He stifles his yelps, though, not wanting to anger her more, even as she clicks her fingers at him to follow her to the bedroom.

He makes as if to jump up on the bed, but one stern glance from her has him reconsidering. Right. Only good boys are allowed on the furniture. He sits at her feet, head bowed, waiting for his punishment.

She bends down and brushes a finger under his chin, lifting until his eyes meet hers. “How can I help you learn this lesson, hm?” she asks, thumb stroking his lips. “I don’t think pain will work—you’re too eager for it,” she mocks. “But pleasure, well—my dirty little hedonist, I think I can teach you about too much of a good thing.” She leans in close, her breath mingling with his. “I’m going to make you mess your cage until you run dry.”

She switches the vibrating plug on. He sucks in a breath, hips jerking forward and almost touching her leg, but he wrestles himself back under control. Don’t make a mess, he coaches himself, his hips twitching as if to drive himself back further upon the vibrator. She laughs delightedly. “Good boy, you’re learning already.”

He whimpers, caught between the dual pain of his flesh pressed against the cage and the pleasure of her praise and the wonderful vibrations. With the plug pressed directly against his prostate, he’s rapidly barreling towards an orgasm—except his cock is kept forcefully soft, weeping through the bars and pooling on the floor. He whines upon seeing it and, without a second thought, leans down to lick up his mess.

Her hand comes down in his hair, at first caressing, but then she shoves him down, nose ground against the floor. “That’s right. Clean up the mess you’ve made,” she says, not letting him up until every drop has been licked clean.

The vibrations keep rocketing through him, assaulting his every nerve. He bites his lip, feeling an impossible orgasm approach. Even confined in a cage, he can feel it building, building, until it overtakes him in a wave, dragged out of him in a slow oozing drip. He pants, riding it through, his panting turning into a steady whine as the plug doesn’t stop.

His oversensitive nerves jump with every sensation, his fingers curling into fists, sweat beading and dripping down his skin. He risks a glance up at Yennefer, silently begging her to stop, but she just raises an eyebrow. “Don’t you want to be good, puppy?” she asks, and he does, he does want to be good, but it’s almost painful now, a second orgasm forcing its way through his body.

He’s right on the edge—but he still needs something to push him over, something to pull him through the wall of oversensitivity and bring him to ecstatic pleasure. He gets it in the form of her sharp nails pricking at his skull, yanking his head up, and her other hand tugging at his collar and twisting. He gasps, air cut off, hands coming to scrabble at his neck, eyes rolling back in his head—and comes like a fucking fountain, cum spurting between the bars of his cage, all the blood rushing from his head, stars filling his vision.

He slumps down, gasping in a breath as she releases his collar, her deceptively strong arms catching him before he can fall into the puddle beneath him. She lifts him up and places him in bed—like a good puppy, his hazy mind tells him—and he slowly comes back to the feeling of her scritching her nails lightly behind his ear in the way that always drives him mad with pleasure, and the sound of her murmuring praises.

“Good boy, Jaskier, you were so good for me,” she coos, and he feels her jostle the cage between his legs. His eyes shoot open and he scrambles backwards with all the urgency his lazy limbs can manage. He can’t handle anything more right now, not with his poor wrung out cock so sensitive. His safeword is on the tip of his tongue when she speaks.

“I’m taking it off, that’s all,” she promises, and he settles down, letting her unlock it and ease it gently off, noting with a whimper the dark lines the cage has gouged into his flesh. “Oh, poor thing.”

Next is the tail plug, and he knows not to jerk back from the slight tug at his stretched rim. There’s a brief flash of too-much as the widest part of the plug exits, followed by the alien feeling of his hole gaping around nothing, fluttering weakly in the plug’s wake.

“Lovely,” Yennefer praises, looking at his hole as if she’d like nothing more than to devour him. Mercifully, she leaves well enough alone, and nudges him over until she can fit on the bed next to him, pulling him into her arms. He goes with a happy sigh, glad his punishment is over and basking in her closeness. “Good boy,” she praises him one last time before sleep claims him. He really does love being her good puppy.

[yan-twst]

hey, hey! Thank you for opening the inbox! may i request a yan!jamil work (mini fic or scenario or whatever you find easier to write) with a disobedient!gn!reader? aaaa thank you so much. i've been stalking your blog for a while, and i have to say i like your yandere alphabet prompts! i think they are so in character!

a/n: aaah thank you sm anon! one of my biggest fears is that in the turning a character into yan i accidentally remove elements of their personality, so it’s very reassuring to hear that you find them to be in-character 

warnings: general yandere content, like super vague mentions of disordered eating

pairing: jamil / gn!darling

word count: 1,425

patience

It was starting to wear on him, it really was. Jamil’s patience was near unmatched from years of having to trail behind Kalim and pretend to be inferior, of years spent as a servant following his master’s whims, and yet he found himself growing impatient at how utterly disobedient his darling was being. Perhaps his newfound freedom had made him grow this way, or maybe it was just the fact he finally found himself being the one in power, for once being the impatient lord instead of the lowly servant.

Either way, he couldn’t deny that while he was disappointed at how insistent his darling seemed to be to desperately try to show useless defiance, there was also something so utterly delicious about watching them try to defy him, knowing full well that there’s nothing they could truly do. Oh, don’t get him wrong, it did grate on his nerves, when they tried to physically harm him whenever he tried to hug or kiss them, whenever they tossed or refused to eat the meals he so carefully prepared, any of those ungrateful actions of rebellion were nothing short of annoying. But there was so much enjoyment out of getting to see them regret their actions- the sheer regret in their eyes when they realized he’d be shortening their chains for trying to attack him, or when he simply let them go hungry if they refused a meal was proof that they couldn’t go on like this for longer.

“Are you seriously trying to break the chains again?” Jamil’s voice sounded exasperated, but in an almost too casual sense. It was the same tone one would use when chastising a pet for stepping on a table, or the very exact tone he’d use to lecture Kalim when the albino asked him for help with his studies. And yet they flinched, instinctively trying to hide away the small nail file they’d been futilely trying to use against the thick metal chains binding their ankle. He leaned down and undid the makeshift gag he kept in their mouth while he was out- the last thing he needed was them screaming and making a ruckus, as he was sure they’d do. “Where did you even find that? Did you dig through my drawers?”

“... None of your business.” the way they shrunk back against the wall as he approached just served to make their shaky words appear more meek, combined with the hoarseness in their voice from being gagged all day. Jamil narrowed his eyes, and with a swift move, tightly took hold of one of their wrists, revealing the little nail file they’d just tried to hide. He sighed, shaking his head.

“You aren’t so stupid as to think this could seriously break you out, are you?” his grip on their wrist was strong, enough so to cause pain, and their pursed lips and eyes were enough proof they were doing their best to keep from making any pained noise. Right as they thought they’d hear a sickening ‘pop’ from the bones in their wrist, Jamil let go, the nail file dropping at the sudden release of their hand. There was no point in retrieving it now, they figured, as they instead opted to try and rub their wrist with their other hand, trying to relieve some of the pain. Jamil sighed again. “And what’s this about what you do not being any of my business? This is my room, did you forget? And moreover, anything you do is my business. Or have you forgotten who’s the one who feeds you and keeps you safe, too?”

“I’m not here because I want to- you’re fucking sick, what the hell is wrong with you-” before they could even raise their voice, Jamil had already grasped the front of their shirt and pulled them close, nearly making them fall on their face if he hadn’t been clutching the fabric so strongly. By instinct, they looked right into his eyes- they knew better than that by now, knew how dangerous it was to stare Jamil in the eyes- but thankfully, he didn’t use his unique magic.

“Don’t be so loud, this is a dorm.” he hissed, eyes narrowed. His whole mood seemed to have soured at their words; it wasn’t as if he didn’t know they didn’t want to be here, but wasn’t it entirely their fault they were suffering so much? If they simply agreed to be grateful; to accept the warm food, to accept the attention and affection, the safety Jamil offered... Perhaps they wouldn’t have to be chained down, not gagged while he went out, if only they didn’t insist on being so resistant and ungrateful. “Apologize.”

“I’m not apologizing, you freak-!”

“You can apologize out of your own will,” Jamil’s sharp voice and the tightening of his grip on their shirt almost made them bite their tongue as the words died down in their mouth, the vice dorm leader’s eyes giving off a certain sadistic glint that made his anger all the more terrifying. “... or I can hypnotize you and make you apologize exactly how I want you to. Don’t try to close your eyes now, or it’s just going to be worse on you. Your choice.”

They audibly swallowed, a cold sweat trickling down their back. As much as they’d have loved to spit in his face and refuse, the threat of his unique magic weighed heavily in their mind- there was, perhaps, nothing scarier than to be completely under his control. That was how they’d gotten into this mess. It wouldn’t be the first time he used his unique magic on them due to their behaviour, and every single time, it was terrifying. They had no memory of anything that happened while under that state, no knowledge of what he made them do- to think that he could so easily make them do anything he pleased and they wouldn’t even know was scary enough to make them nauseous.

“I’m...” the words felt like sandpaper in their throat. They weren’t sorry. Of course they weren’t- they were a fucking kidnapping victim, their captor forcing his affections and twisted fantasies of being worshipped and obeyed onto them. They wanted to fight on, to keep struggling, but deep down, they knew Jamil was winning. The way his stern commands were enough to make them flinch and almost obey out of instinct even without hypnosis numbing their mind was proof enough- the fact they were apologizing now was proof, too. “... I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what? Be specific.” Jamil smirked slightly, his eyes still digging right into theirs. Ready to activate his unique magic at any moment- a loaded gun’s barrel staring them right down, a threat as to what would happen if they didn’t put on a convincing enough performance. More disturbing was the way he wasn’t even trying to hide how much he was enjoying the situation, enjoying the way panic seemed to almost radiate off his darling, as he brought up his free hand to gently stroke their lower lip.

“... for rummaging through your drawers.” they said, idly wondering when they’d stopped feeling the urge to lunge forward and bite Jamil’s thumb when he did this. When had that primal, violent instinct morphed into just hoping he wouldn’t do worse? Still, as they tried to distract themselves by thinking of that, Jamil didn’t seem sated with their response. Of course the apology wasn’t enough as is. “And for... trying to run away.”

“A pitiful apology, but I’ll take it. I’m feeling rather generous today.” he said. Truly, he didn’t sound entirely happy, but at the same time, the smugness in his voice was clear enough of a clue that he’d enjoyed the fear in his darling’s eyes more than he should have. Wordlessly, he leaned forward- his lips pressed into theirs, one of his hands still holding onto their shirt to prevent them from moving. They didn’t kiss back, instead just screwing their eyes shut and tightening their fists hard enough to nearly draw blood from their palms. That was the most resistance they could offer, the only little act of rebellion they could take comfort in without incurring what would certainly be a punishment that would without a doubt be Jamil using his unique magic to make them do much worse things. 

With their eyes shut, they couldn’t see the way Jamil smirked into the kiss- slowly but surely, they’d break. Perhaps he did have the patience to see it through, after all.

[k-s-morgan]

Hi! This isn’t an ask, but more of a rambling that I deemed too long for the comments, that stems from your post claiming Book of Circus as your favourite Black Butler episodes. and to that I say - YES. Book of Murder is a masterpiece. It houses one of my favourite scenes - the one where Sebastian says: "This wasn't a scenario decided by God or fate, but one decided on by my master, with timing decided by my master. I was killed by the criminal expected by my master, by the Hione who came to torment my master", which really captures the essence of whole 'Ciel vs God' dynamic that's woven into the duration of the show.

Throughout the plot, there are three major instances in which an offering is made to Ciel - offerings of redemption. The first is from Angela - a chance to purify himself and have an afterlife - which he so vehemently rejects in the knowledge that he quite literally *is* his darkness, and therefore refuses to rid himself of it.

The second is comes from Abberline in his death, where in his final words he tells Ciel he has a chance to take back his future. And Ciel has to watch him die with the knowledge that he has already made up his mind about his fate. I don't think he's so affected because he regrets selling his soul. I don't think he suddenly wants to live, or no longer wishes for revenge. But I believe the reason he is so affected by Abberline's death is because he holds a sentimentality for him that is not dissimilar to the one he feels for Elizabeth. Ciel is cruel, I don't think he regrets the steps he has taken to get to this point, nor the ones he knows he must take in the future. But though he is cruel, I believe he has a sort of fond curiosity for the untainted goodness that characterises those like Abberline and Elizabeth. Like you said before, he feels condescension towards the man perhaps due to the naivety his blind heroism implies, but I think his attachments to him come from an underlying curiosity to see if such goodness can exist in such a corrupted world - a silent hope to be proven wrong in his cynicism. When Abberline dies, that very hope he didn't even know he had gets shattered. It brings about a sort of forced perspective that makes Ciel question himself in ways we haven't seen before.

Abberline's death had been avoidable and it was certainly in vain. Abberline had died for someone who had already made up his mind - someone who had rejected God once before and would do it time and time again as proven in the anime. Ciel is such an interesting character because, although he is dark, he still values the light and makes some sort of effort to preserve it in spite of the contempt he feels for them. It is the thought of dying in vain that seems to bother him so greatly, not death itself. No, Abberline dying isn't enough for him to want to live again, or to even think about throwing away his revenge - that was never in question. But it is enough to extinguish the lingering flicker of hope he had for humanity (despite being so distanced from term himself).

This, combined with the disappointment he feels at Sebastian's actions, causes the existential haze of uncertainty that leads to the third and final offering. And the most surprising thing is that this offering comes from Sebastian himself. He senses the doubt in Ciel and, like every thought the boy experiences, fails to understand it. He mistakes it for him second-guessing his revenge and decides to discontinue their contract. But he isn't angry - that much is clear. Instead, he wishes him to "forget everything and have pleasant dreams", with a rather wistful expression on his face. What this line ends up reading as is a bittersweet  goodbye from the demon - an offering for Ciel to let go of his revenge and find happiness in the afterlife with his now soon approaching death.  There is almost a strong disappointment in him, but is not resentful of it - Ciel is human and he can't keep expecting him not to be. His offering almost acts as a thank you for the moments of excitement their contract had given his monotone life and I believe that is why he makes it.

He sticks around to see if Ciel accepts his offer, though already expecting him to, and is there to witness the very moment the boy rejects it. Gone is the uncertainty of Abberline's death and the Paris crisis, and Ciel, the Earl of Phantomhive, returns to him - sharper, colder, more ruthless than ever. Sebastian realises his misjudgement and returns to his side, ready for the final battle. Killing an angel. It's laughably symbolic.

The rejections of God, the evasion of the Hope Diamond's curse (where he even wore two rings as if to taunt the fates), the references in Book of Murder - they all depict this metaphorical sort of battle between Ciel and God. And the ending of Kuroshitsuji II is the depicts how he triumphs over fate, claiming his rightful place as an immortalised creature of Hell.

I know I've gone on a bit of a tangent here in your inbox, but that one quote from Book of Murder is so symbolic to me in the way it sets up the comparison between Ciel and God (in which 'God' represents power over fate).

Before I sign off, though, I just want to make light of the existence of the show's final offering, occurring in the last few minutes of the series. This last offering has nothing too do with God, nothing to do with any complex battle between the Phantomhive and fate, but is much simpler than that. In fact, the final offering of the show comes from Ciel, and he gives it to Sebastian - it's almost poetic, is it not?

"Are you sure you don't want to pull it any tighter?"

In this single, unassuming line, Ciel is asking Sebastian if he wants to kill him, and release himself from the eternal contract they've found themselves in. Such a noble and dignified soul as Ciel would always be sure to make through on his word and, despite the loophole that now extends their contract, he would still be willing to let Sebastian kill him should he wish to do so. The man may no longer be able to take his soul, but the boy can still give the order to kill him and free himself. Ciel's respect for Sebastian is complex and contradictory at times, but what never changes is his willingness to die by his hands and see through to his side of the contract.

“Is it over? The one who plunged me into bottomless darkness… I don’t even know why she did it.”

In the episode where Angela is crushed by the Church, Ciel offers his soul to Sebastian. Even when unsatisfied with the result, his unwavering nobility led him to make good on their deal and fulfil his end of the contract. The earl faced the demon, his expression calm, and with a steady voice said “A promise is a promise. Take it.”

This unwavering dignity and nobility he holds in himself I believe is the reason for this offering and Sebastian's turn to reject it is almost a 'love confession' (as you have brought me to see it) in itself.

As a final sort of note - I just wanted to let you know that, since reading your reply to my comment on TGSTLTH (from a while ago), I brought myself to rewatch Kuroshitsuji II with your interpretation in mind and ended up really enjoying it. You've singlehandedly made me do a complete 180 on a season I previously hated - looks like I had just watched it from the wrong perspective. So, for that, I thank you

Hey! Sorry for getting to your ask just now. I absolutely loved it :D And yes, Book of Murder is a masterpiece - I still remember watching it for the first time. It was late at night, I had to go to bed, everyone was sleeping, but I kept watching because stopping just wasn't an option, I had to know what happened next.

Ciel vs God is such an interesting topic. In some ways, Ciel and Sebastian exist in their own universe where there is no place for anyone else. There is a God aka Ciel and a demon aka Sebastian. And they are both allies and adversaries at the same time - they are tormenting each other and uniting to torment others.

I agree absolutely that Ciel holds a fondness for certain people, with Lizzy and Abberline being a good example. He has a degree of contempt and irritation for them, but they do mean something to him. Ciel's curiosity is a big and detached thing, and this places him on Sebastian's level in such an interesting way because sometimes it's almost like Ciel isn't human himself - humanity intrigues him as if he doesn't belong to it. His fascination with the light just underlines his affinity with the darkness.

I have many thoughts about Ciel's behavior during the days following Abberline's death, and you certainly introduced many excellent points! My general opinion on Ciel's motives is... complicated. I agree that he never felt like really giving up his revenge and trying to live a 'happy' life - he knew it's not for him at that stage already. However, I feel like Abberline's parting words affected him a lot, even if briefly. When Abberline tells him that he can start everything from the beginning, Ciel sounds absolutely heartbroken when he confesses, "I don't have a future." The way he acts later, telling Sebastian to stop and not kill the angel, hesitating, reinforces this idea to me. I think you described it best - Ciel is having an existential crisis. It's not like he suddenly regrets his decisions, but he's temporary unanchored and unsure what he wants and what he should do. Having a dream where Abberline urges him to give up his hatred also seems to affect Ciel, but it's so telling that he wakes up and immediately says, "Sebastian." It's a fascinating arc and I can't wait to explore it.

I love your words about three offerings - so true. And I'm so happy you liked S2 when watching it from a new perspective! I used to be so confused as to why people hated it: it's not perfect, but I thought it was amazing in many ways, especially its bittersweet ending.

[my-writings-and-musings]

Hello! Thank you for answering my Ravage request, I love it so much! Also your last Rodimus prompt really helped me yesterday, thank you.

Can I request some headcanons about how would Megatron, Swerve and Rung react to love confession from their human crush? Free to ignore it if there's too many characters

(sorry if it's not okay to send more than one request in such short amount of time)

Yay I'm glad that you liked what I wrote and that some of my other stuff helped you out! Sorry for the delay in answering these, I've been quite surprised by the volume in my inbox! I have three lovely bots reacting to love here, and feel free to send in requests so long as my inbox is open!

Megatron

·The confession thankfully occurs while he's seated, as the impact force of a thirty foot mech collapsing to the floor would have been... considerable. That's not to say his physical reaction is at all subtle though. Eons of combat training and discipline dissapear in a flash and his expression shows the full extent of his shock. Was he dreaming? Or did his audials need repair? There must be some confusion, because he's fairly certain the little human on his desk just said that they loved him. No matter his own considerable feelings for them, he must be considerably mistaken, because that would simply be impossible.

·Except it isn't impossible. In fact, it's the truth, you tell him more than a few times over once he starts asking if you're confused or perhaps unwell. He wants to be elated, but a lifetime of training keeps that reaction well contained, as he knows from experience that these things simply cannot happen to bots like himself. Kneeling before the table you stand on, he tries not to sound pitiful or ungrateful as he requests clarification one final time, saying that he couldn't possibly expect love from one who had so much to hate him for.

·You're firm but as gentle as you might be with a fragile bit of glass as you make it undeniably clear; you love him. The only thing you're unsure of, and hoping to find out yourself, is whether or not he feels the same. All the expectation in your eyes compels him to act as impulsively as a sparkling, and he emphatically returns your feelings in a hushed reply, raising a tender hand to hold your little body in the rush of emotion shooting through him.

·There's a moment of icy reality to stop him in his tracks. Don't you know what he's done? What being with him could put you at risk of? That there's nothing to be gained from entangling yourself in the mess he's made of his life? Well accustomed to this behavior, you stand your ground and look him square in the optics, affirming that you're well aware of everything he's just said, but that the only thing you want from him is him, so everything you must endure in relation to him is already worth the struggle. In a rare burst of emotion he pulls your little body to his chest for the gentlest of hugs.

·He laughs for the first time in what has to be eons. There's the smallest hint of a fog in his optics as you find yourself tearing up too, overwhelmed by this hulking bot finally opening up to you completely and just being happy. For his part, he can't truly believe any of this is yet real, but he isn't going to bother with that for now. To know you love him is the greatest peace he's ever experienced, but also the most invigorating kind of euphoria. There's youthful hope in his spark again, encouraging his desire to explore and experience the wonders of life now that he has you at his side, but for this single moment he's content to just... be. One bot, one human, embracing through their laughter and tears.

Swerve

·Somehow he forgets he was polishing a glass at all in the second it takes for it to shatter upon impact with the ground. You had been talking, going round in a way that suggested you were intent on getting to a particular topic, but then...? The glass is forgotten as he gently cuts off your attempt at an apology, spark pulsing and voicebox constricting as he asks you to repeat yourself, looking like he's terrified beyond all belief as he does so. A kind of fear he hasn't felt in a long time prevents him from pretending to be okay like he's so used to doing.

·At your careful reassurance that you did indeed say you love him, and that you meant it, he speaks so softly in response you can barely hear him. The questions he whispers are slow and deliberate, and if he could see anything but you he'd be grateful no one else is present to witness him acting so... shy. He has to make sure though, because it just doesn't seem possible; you love him? Beautiful, intelligent, funny, caring you is in love with... him? But he loves you too, and that means you love each other, and how is that possible?!

·Disbelief slowly melts into a happiness he's afraid to let in only because it's so foreign to him, but bit by bit he begins to realize this is actually happening, and his lonely spark lets the feeling in. Tears start to drop from his foggy visor as a trembling smile pulls up his cheeks, compelling you to reach out from your spot on the bar and invite him into a comforting hug. While he clarifies that he's never felt better, he still happily takes the hug, pulling in your tiny body with his large servos and carefully holding you close.

·Feeling the warmth of you against him sends another wave of beautiful confirmation through him; this is real. The loneliness that always plagued his spark seems insignificant now, as if he's gained a kind of perspective just knowing someone like you could care so deeply for him. All of his friends, all of his patrons, and you at the very center of it all... Why wasn't he ever able to see just how much warmth and goodness there was before this moment?

·Tears are streaming down his face when he lets you go, and at your concern he assures you it's nothing to worry about. There are more questions, but they're happy now, and he's smiling like never before as you dutifully answer every query whilst dabbing his cheeks with a towel that's blanket sized for you. He wants to know; when did you start to have feelings? Does this mean you really don't mind his jokes? Can he tell the others? Is he handsome by human standards? There's so much for him to say but, for once, no rush to say it. Somehow he's finally realized that he doesn't need to talk to get your attention, he just needs to be himself, and the banter is simply a lovely bonus.

Rung

·Though he's certain he misheard, he removes his glasses almost on instinct, looking to the little lifeform he's grown so close to with an unguarded expression of apprehension tinged with hope, gentle but rarely seen optics looking to you with that vulnerability he keeps so well hidden from everyone else. You only remain silent because you briefly lose yourself in his gaze, which is as desperate as it is due to him wanting so badly to believe he did indeed just hear what he's uncertain is actually possible. The request for you to repeat is so soft it's barely audible. Thin digits try to polish his lenses as is his custom when concealing stress, but he fumbles so frequently he has to cease just as he begins.

·You stand near the edge of the table, speaking slowly and clearly so there can be no misunderstanding. The confession is indeed irrefutable this time around, the simple words breaking the silence with their surprising weight and drawing a tiny gasp from him in the process. His hand over his mouth prevents further exclamations, though he's certainly not capable of making any in his current state. Something in the depths of his being has always yearned for this, but he never dared to even dream it could happen, that he could love and in return be loved.

·Tears on his precious face spur you to act, if only because they're absolutely heartbreaking, but as he moves his hand from his mouth you see that despite his sobs he's absolutely beaming. You're surprised even further when he laughs through the tears, and at your prompting says that he's just overwhelmed. You, wonderful and thoughtful and brilliantly unique little you, in love with the bot no one can remember? What has he ever done to be this fortunate? Admittedly he's not fully convinced that this isn't a dream, but he has no intention of letting that stop him from basking in this wonderful feeling.

·You can't help but cry a little too, seeing him overwhelmed in a way you never could have anticipated. Tiny human hands take his offered servo and guide the tip of his digit to brush adoringly over your cheek, just as he so often does, but you notice that for the first time ever there's no hesitation to the action. There's only pure, serene affection. Looking into his optics, you see a mech almost made new, as if the validation you give him just by existing and loving him has changed his entire outlook on life. For a bot who does so much for others, you can't even begin to describe how wonderful it is to give him that peace.

·Still as bashful as they come, he blushes when you move in to embrace him from the tables edge on a whim, but the sheepish hesitation quickly gives way to a mutual hug. The hum of his spark is almost melodic in your ears as you press your head into his warm chest. Your tiny heartbeat, just perceptible to the servo he has cradling you close, is equally jubilant to his touch. The beauty of it all is almost enough to make him dizzy; for the first time in his life he feels truly seen, truly heard, truly here. Reality is still moving just as it was before, but now he genuinely feels like he is a part of it all, here with you in his loving arms. You make him certain that he's worth remembering.

[queerprayers]

Hello. This might be a bit of an unorthodox ask, or maybe not. I’m also fully aware no one can make this choice for me, but it’s also not a choice I want to make alone.

So I’m a Latine Catholic. My family was never all that religious. They never had a problem with my queerness or been all too bothered by what I actually believed. We are already somewhat out of the box- my father doesn’t believe in going to church and he doesn’t believe in an afterlife. My mother believes in reincarnation and an eventual, inevitable Heaven. I told my mom once that I was considering paganism and she was just interested in what I could tell her about the theology. So the problem is me. I have ocd and a deep fear of hell and of G*d’s judgement. I spiraled so badly into scrupulosity two years ago that I consider it a religious trauma. I relaxed, eventually, but not without having learned a lot about religion, including about Judaism. It shaped a lot of what I believe, and I deeply, deeply want to convert and be truly Jewish. I’m in love with the religion in a way I have only found pieces of in my own. But that’s the problem. I do love parts of my religion- the saints and Jesus and the mysticism. and deep down Im still terrified of a hell I don’t believe in. But no matter how many times I resolve to stay Catholic, the desire to be Jewish doesn’t leave, and I feel guilty for it. Terrified G*d will punish me for it. But do you think it’s possible to be called to follow another religious path? That, perhaps, I was born to make this choice?

Sorry if this is a lot. I’ve just been confused for like two years now so I thought I’d give asking someone else a shot. Hope you’re well

Hello beloved,

I'm finally answering this! I did not forget you, and have been thinking about your ask and praying for you in the past couple weeks. I've just been dealing with my own stuff—the delay was not because it was too unorthodox or too much, neither of which exist in my inbox :)

I wanted to start out by saying that I'm so proud of how far you've come and am so sorry you've had so much trouble. Your problems might be more internal than external, but I promise that doesn't make you a problem. You are not the problem—just thought I'd make sure you know that.

I just wanted to note that "I'm still terrified of a hell I don't believe in" is such a true and raw statement and I connect with it so deeply.

Trauma can change our lives in terrifying ways, and it's usually not what we had in mind for ourselves. The very existence of trauma implies a life-changing event(s), and so the fact that your life is changing is perfectly reasonable. Many others more knowledgeable and articulate than I have spoken about trauma, but just know that you're not alone in feeling confusion and pain.

Your relationship to faith sounds beautiful and meaningful as well as painful, and it makes me so happy that you've found beauty in religion even after experiencing trauma. There are many people for whom multiple religious traditions affect their theology—you're not alone and it's not weird.

I connect immensely to Judaism—check out my tag! Judaism is an absolutely beautiful, holy religion that any Christian with any knowledge of their history should support and affirm. We worship a traditionally Jewish god. I affirm that a Palestinian Jew brought us salvation.

Yes, I believe it's possible to be called to a religion. As a Christian, I believe that Jesus is the true Messiah, but I also believe everyone is called to serve God in different ways, and that I don't know everything. I wrote in this ask about whether only Christians would be saved, and how I look at other faiths.

I'm a Lutheran Christian not because I believe wholly in everything Christians preach, or because I don't feel connected to other traditions, but because for me, right now, this is the way I am closest to God and serve Them. Being a part of a faith community doesn't mean you agree with everything 100%, and converting doesn't mean you let go of everything you've believed in the past. You can stay connected to saints and Jesus and mysticism while pursuing a life in the Jewish tradition. Obviously different traditions look at things like this differently, but ultimately, don't let anyone take those connections you have away from you. Whether you're a Jew with connections to Catholicism or a Catholic with connections to Judaism—you'll end up kind of unorthodox either way, but you'll be you.

You were definitely born to do this. I don't know exactly what this is, mind you, but you're here and you're asking these questions for a reason, and I believe there is an existence out there for you full of peace and holiness.

Questions to ask yourself/things to think about:

In what faith space/tradition do you see yourself most able to serve God, your neighbor, and yourself?

Is the religious tradition you're in right now accepting of your connections to other faiths? Would the tradition you convert to be?

Imagine being a Catholic for your entire life. What emotions come up? Are you satisfied/fulfilled? Will you spend every moment wondering what your life would be like if you made a different choice?

Is the only reason you're still a Christian fear? Is that something you want to build your faith on? What could you build your faith on instead? What would that look like?

God will always be there. To come back to, to call by a different name, to pray to in a different language, to be angry at, to be scared of, to worship. No matter how far you think you're running or where you go, God is with you.

I wrote this ask about choosing a denomination, but some of it applies here too.

Let me know if there's anything I can do for you! Sending you so much love and keeping you in my prayers.

<3 Johanna

[horansqueen]

New Angel - Chapter 3

story masterlist [x]

chapter 1  ☆ chapter 2

NOTES

☆ written from Niall’s pov ☆ i don’t proofread, I never do, I hate it. ☆ AU comedy/fluff/smut/romance ☆ 2.6k ☆ i accept requests and ideas for this story, so message me in my inbox! ☆ if you want to be notified when this story is updated (or be taken off the update list) CLICK HERE

NIALL

For some reason I ignored, Louis' only solution if I wanted to get over Grace was to have sex with an other girl. I had no idea where it came from, and I agreed that it could make me think about something else for a few hours, but he was delusional if he thought it would make the feelings I had for Grace disappear completely.

I wanted to, though. After seeing Grace again, I knew that getting over her was the only rational thing to do. I also knew it wouldn't be easy, but i guess it was part of the process of a heartbreak and I had to go through the pain, the anger, and the sadness no matter what. It didn't mean I couldn't try to push all of those feelings away for a while. The worst kind of pain is probably the pain that never stops. It hurts until it actually drives you insane, whether it's physically or mentally. If you get a few moments of respite, even while knowing the pain will come back, it was not as bad.

As soon as we walked into the club, I regretted it. Louis and I were more into pubs where we'd sit with friends and have a good laugh and a pint. This place was anything but a place where I could relax with friends. I had agreed to follow though and I kept in mind that whenever I would have enough, I could just take a cab and go back home.

Millie was dressed to kill. I had never seen her dressed like that. She was wearing a skirt and a tank top, had put make up on, and the necklace hanging from her neck seemed to shine with the lights of the room. She tilted her head slightly to touch one of her long earrings and I raised my eyebrows, wondering what exactly she was looking for. She turned to look at Louis who was looking around the room and after a few seconds, we both followed him to the bar, ordering a few drinks.

"Are you trying to get laid tonight?" I asked my friend, glancing at her as I leaned against the counter, my beer in hand.

"I thought the goal was to get you laid." she replied with an amused smile, raising her eyebrows and taking a sip from the colored beverage she had ordered.

"So did you dress like that for Louis then?"

She rolled her eyes and shook her head, moving her face closer to mine. "I dress only for myself, Horan." she explained, licking her lips. "Never forget that."

"I'm just not used to it." I shrugged, placing both my elbows on the counter behind me. "You're more the sweatpants and t-shirt kind of girl."

She glanced at me and sent me an amused smile. "Fat girls can wear nice clothes too, you know."

"You proved that, Millie, there's no doubt." I smiled more. "But there's nothing wrong with sweatpants."

Millie didn't answer and I turned to her, noticing she was actually scanning the room. It took her a few minutes and she just sighed and turned to look at me.

"I noticed about 6 girls that could be your type." she pointed out. "I'm sure you won't have any problem to pick a girl tonight."

"My type?" I chuckled, grimacing. "I don't have a type."

"Tall, skinny, brunette, sexy. I can't tell their personalities from here but she's also got to be cheeky, flirty, and an attention seeker."

"That's rude."

"No, it's true."

I pushed my free hand in one of my pockets and took a long sip of my beer. I was a bit annoyed and insulted from Millie's words but I couldn't say she was wrong. Perhaps I didn't see the girls I crushed on in the same light as she did, and clearly, I didn't have the same relationship with them than she did, but at that moment, I decided to pick someone who was totally not my ‘type’ just to spite my friend and prove her wrong.

My eyes traveled on the room to find someone interesting. First, she had to be blonde, second, It would be even better if she was a bit shy. I noticed a cute girl sitting at a table on the other side of the room. She was looking around the room, nibbling on her bottom lip as if she was uncomfortable to be here, and when some of her friends got up, she seemed panicked. One of the grabbed her hand, pulling her with the rest of them and she shook her head a few times before giving in.

"Okay," I let out, swallowing what was left of my beer. "I'm ready."

Millie chuckled and got up from the stool she was sitting on. "Go, Romeo. I'll try to find Louis." she just said. "Will you bring her back home?"

"I'll try."

"Well if you do, text us so we're not surprised tomorrow morning, okay?"

I just chuckled and left, walking quickly to the girl who was now dancing in the middle of the dance floor. She started laughing with her friends and before I could reach her, she twirled on herself and finally bent down to tell something to her friends and left. It was weird to follow her again but when she reached the bar, I thought it was the perfect opportunity to talk to her.

"Hi." I said, bending down and sending her a smile when she turned to me.

Her face changed and she smiled back at me, clearly a bit embarrassed. She was exactly what I needed. She tilted her head slightly and started playing with a lock of her hair as I tried to keep the focus on her eyes. They were blue, but a darker shade than what we normally see, or maybe it was just because of the lights of the place, and her blonde hair was cascading down her back. She was pretty, very pretty, and when she pressed her lips together, I wanted to kiss her.

"Hi."

"Uhm, hey, can I buy you a drink?"

She seemed to hesitate and glanced back at her friends still going crazy on the dance floor before her eyes met mine again. She glanced away again and finally, she nodded quickly.

"Okay, sure." she smiled more. "I'm Summer."

"Nice to meet you, Summer." I replied, moving slightly closer. "Niall."

"So, you're here by yourself, Niall?"

I chuckled, sliding a bill on the counter when the bartender came back with her drink and turned to face her. "No, I'm here with a few friends. There's somewhere around."

"I'm here with friends too, but they're all a bit drunk." she explained, pointing behind us.

I turned to look at her friends laughing and dancing again and chuckled, raising my eyebrows and looking back at her. For some reason, I felt like her name suited her perfectly. Was it crazy to feel like she was a warm breeze on my cold broken heart? It didn't matter. All that mattered was that Summer could make me forget Grace for a few hours, and I really needed it.

They were so different that nothing from Summer's physical appearance to her personality could remind me of Grace. Still, I surprised myself to compare them, and it bothered me. I breathed in and closed my eyes for a few minutes, trying to remind myself that it was impossible for me to forget completely Grace just because one pretty girl smiled to me.

We talked together for about half an hour and every time she laughed, it made me smile more. She was like an angel appearing in my life at my worst time and somehow, she made me feel like it was possible to be happy again. We had a few drinks together and when I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket, I grabbed it and read Louis' text message.

'We're leaving. If you need us, we'll be in my room.'

I chuckled and sent him a thumb up emoji before looking back at Summer. I let my eyes travel on her and groaned low when my eyes fell on the top of her dress. I hadn't had sex in over a month and it was getting to my head.

"Niall? Are you alright?"

I looked up at her again and chuckled, a bit embarrassed that I had been caught. I scratched the back of my head and raised my nose up in a grimace. "I'm sorry, you're just so fucking beautiful and... You wanna come to my place?"

She seemed surprised but her lips still curled slightly as she stared at me. "That's quite bold of you." she replied before giggling. "Do I look like the kind of girl who sleeps on the first night?"

My lips parted and suddenly, I felt stupid and guilty. It probably showed in my face because she started laughing louder and I exhaled.

"Niall, relax, I'm just kidding!" she smiled more, getting up. "Give me your address and phone number."

"Why?"

"So I can give them to my friend. You know, just in case you're a serial killer."

I took my drivers license out of my wallet and handed it to her. She quickly typed on her phone before looking up at me and tilting her head again. "So, do you have a car or we have to get a cab?"

I smiled at her and we ended up in the back of a cab, her lips pressed against mine. They were warm and I could have sworn her lipstick tasted like strawberries. I ran my hand on her naked thigh, moving up slowly, but she pressed her legs together, stopping me from going farther.

"I'm sorry." I whispered against her mouth, moving my hand away.

"No it's okay, I'd just rather wait until we're at your place."

I nodded and sent her a small smile, letting my eyes roam on her face. She was so different than Grace. In fact, she was different than all the girls I dated before, and if my memory served me right, from all the girls I had sex with, too. I didn't know what it was, I couldn't put my finger on it, but there was something about her that made me nervous. I was scared to do the wrong thing, or say something that would embarrass her, or make her mad. It was not a bad thing, I was just not used to that kind of girl, and I couldn't say I didn't like it. Uncertainty was somehow exciting, and the fact that I couldn't predict what she'd say, do, or how she'd react made me more attentive to everything I did.

It was dark when we walked in my apartment but immediately, I recognized Millie's whimpers and I closed my eyes and groaned low, slightly embarrassed.

"Don't mind my roommates, they're probably fucking in one of their rooms." I whispered as Summer followed me to the hall.

She chuckled and I turned to look at her just as the moon illuminated her face from the window and it made my lips curl. If I was with Grace, I would have told her something like, 'let's show them what we can do' or 'I'm sure we can outdo them' but with Summer, I had no idea if she'd think it was appropriate or not and I decided to keep silent.

I didn't take time to turn the light of my room on, I just closed the door behind myself and pulled Summer close to me, her body pressed against mine, only half a second before my lips pressed against hers. She followed my lead and that too, was a bit new. I was used to be with girls who knew what they wanted and would go get it. Summer was letting me take control, stopping me when she thought I was going too far.

I ran my lips on her neck, smelling the sweetness of her perfume, and she let out a very low whimper when I moved her dress up until her waist. I was impatient and I wanted her. Perhaps it was only because I hadn't had sex in a while, or maybe it was because I knew it would make me forget about Grace for about an hour, or maybe it was Summer who had that effect on me. It didn't matter, and I tried to push all those reflections at the back of my mind to focus on the way her body moved against mine.

I brought her to the bed, my lips attached to hers, and when I slipped my hand in her panties, I felt my cock twitch in my pants.

"Fuck, I want you so bad." I whispered before helping her lay down on my bed.

I moved on top of her and her hands ran on my back, under my shirt, leaving a warm trail on their way. They moved around me and she reached for my pants, unzipping them and pulling them off slowly. It was not the pace I was used to either and I started feeling dizzy but when her hand wrapped around my cock, I let out a curse word and blinked a few times, getting used to the dark. She was smiling and I smiled back at her as I felt her spread her legs a bit more.

"There's no rush, right?" she asked in a very low tone.

"There's no rush."

She sat up and pulled her dress over her head, moving it gently as her hair danced around her face, and I suddenly regretted that I didn't turn on the light. She sent me a shy but big smile and laid back down as I pulled on her panties slowly. She moved her hips up and the sight was amazing. I looked at her, laying naked on my bed, and I realized the constant pain in my stomach was not there anymore. I didn't know when it would come back, but I didn't want to think about it. I grabbed the back of my shirt to take it off, letting it fall on the floor and took the time to take my pants off, bringing my boxers with them.

Slowly, I moved on top of her and kissed her deeply, reaching at the same time for my bedside table. I grabbed a condom in the first drawer and Summer chuckled, making me move away slightly.

"You can reach them with your eyes closed?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. "I'm thinking this isn't the first time you bring a girl you barely know in your room."

I let my eyes roam on her face as my lips parted. I couldn't tell her I was used to make this move because every single time my ex girlfriend and I had sex, I would grab a condom in my drawer exactly this way. I couldn't tell her I was heartbroken and using sex as an escape from the pain killing me inside. I couldn't tell her that she was probably a rebound and that I was still not over my ex girlfriend. Instead, I decided to turn it into a joke.

"Are you jealous?" I asked with a smirk before chuckling.

"Mm, very." she replied, joking too, as her hands ran on my shoulders and slid on my chest. "But you're with me now."

I stared at her and my amused smiled turned into a fond one. "Yes, I'm with you now."

[mianavs]

coming to conclusions

part 9 of Cathexis

a/n: hiiii i’ve been working on this update and haven’t done much else lol. it’s a long update but i didn’t want to split it. after this ill work on the stuff in my inbox :)

wc: 4.1k+

Cathexis

Expecting the unexpected was a concept that had been engrained into your psyche at a young age. It saved you countless of times during missions and only improved over time—at least until that fateful meeting with Illumi. Since then, your actions grew erratic and the precautions you once took when dealing with the unknown were forgotten. When it came to Illumi, you were a reckless mess and it was that recklessness that led to your current situation—Illumi’s lips pressed against yours.

Maybe it was the adrenaline that coursed through your veins whenever Illumi was nearby. Or perhaps it was your inexperience in all things carnal. Whatever the reason, you didn’t reject his kiss and instead tilted your head to give him ease of access to your mouth.

Illumi’s kiss was paradoxical.

Unlike his cold cut-throat self, Illumi’s lips were gentle and almost hesitant against yours. He took his time caressing, nipping, and sucking on your lips until they tingled with numbness. It wasn’t until you let out a whimper that Illumi’s warm tongue delved into your mouth and languidly tasted every crevice, clouding your mind with desire.

The low groan that erupted from his throat and reverberated in your conjoined mouths was what snapped you out of your hazy state of mind to reality. Your hands traveled up Illumi’s chest and gently pushed him away until the clear strand of saliva connecting the two of you broke.

“We can’t,” you panted and you couldn’t help but notice his parted swollen lips, labored breathing, and the dust of pink on his cheeks. Illumi looked beautiful and that realization alone frightened you enough to tear your gaze away from him.

“Is it because of Hisoka?” The accusatory tone threw you off.

“Wha- no!” You blurted out in disbelief. “Why are you even bringing him up?”

Illumi’s hand took you by the chin and forced you to face him. The intensity of his gaze was unsettling as he scrutinized your face and you tore away from his grasp as soon as you could.

“Forget it. I’ll let you rest.” He stated, any remnant of emotion stripped from his voice.

As Illumi stood up and sauntered to the door, your mouth opened with a protest on the tip of your tongue but your sense of judgement returned, effectively killing the words on the spot.

If Illumi resented you for rejecting him, he didn’t show it when he visited the next morning with Canary in tow. As the young butler fed you your medicine and helped you with your physical therapy, the weight of Illumi’s eyes made you wish he’d been upset enough to avoid you.

But that wasn’t Illumi and the assassin escorted you to a greenhouse in a corner of the Zoldyck mansion where a breakfast for two was set up. Breathing in the fresh air and admiring the beautiful flora around you was enough to take your mind off the previous night’s events. So when Illumi helped you take a seat on the wrought iron chair before taking his seat opposite you, any lingering awkwardness dissipated and all of your attention was on the plate of food in front of you.

After taking a couple bites, you turned your attention to the assassin in front of you and broke the comfortable silence to get any information you could about the world outside the mansion’s walls.

“How was your mission?”

“It went well. The target was eliminated.”

“Where was the job?” You asked, pushing the subject to see if it would take you where you wanted.

“York New,” Illumi then paused, narrowing his coal eyes slightly. “Why do you ask?”

“Oh, just curious,” you took a sip of juice. “I’m just not used to being holed up in one place for too long.”

“Then just tell me.” He leaned forward and uncrossed his arms. “What do you want to know.”

You sighed knowing there would be no beating around the bush with Illumi. “The aftermath…of Saul’s death.”

Illumi quirked his head and furrowed his brow slightly as he thought over your words for a moment before the metaphorical light bulb went off in his head. “Ah- you want to know if your reputation is still in ruins.”

You winced at his harsh words but nodded, nonetheless. “I just want to know what awaits me when I go back.”

“It’s not what it used to be but his death definitely helped.” He paused for a second. “That mafia boss also did some damage control in your stead.”

“Who? Ruo Wen?” Illumi nodded before finishing the last bit of his breakfast.

The last time you’d been in contact with your last client, he’d merely confirmed your payment and wished you a speedy recovery but didn’t say anything beyond that. Ruo Wen wasn’t the type of person to go around doing favors for others without something in return, so you anticipated that the next time he contacted you for a job there would be no denying him.

“I suppose it’s better than nothing,” you admitted, stabbing a piece of fruit with your fork. “I’ll be able to get some work.”

“You wouldn’t have to worry about that if you married me,” he suggested and memories of the night before flooded your mind.

“I-I can’t-” There was an edge to your voice as you scrambled to come up with an excuse.

“But you eventually will so why not get it over with.” Illumi pushed and you knew he wouldn’t be satisfied until you gave him an answer

“Because! I-” You took a deep breath to steady yourself. “I’m in no rush to get married. I need to help my parents as much as I can and I’d like to enjoy whatever time I have left being single.”

The assassin remained silent and you decided to get some answers for yourself. “Why did you kiss-”

An unfamiliar presence in the greenhouse caused you and Illumi to turn in the direction where it came from. It was Illumi who recognized the intruder first and called out to them.

“What are you doing here, Kil?”

Silver hair emerged from the greenery and you smiled at the sight of Killua, your preferred Zoldyck. The young boy looked surprised to see Illumi and visibly tensed when Illumi stood up, simultaneously emitting the faintest hint of bloodlust.

“Canary said Y/N was in here…” Killua stopped when Illumi took a couple of steps towards him. Seeing him in action, you were reminded of the type of person Illumi Zoldyck was and your convoluted feelings towards him sorted themselves out.

“That’s enough, Illumi.” You reached out and held his wrist in a vice-like grip.

“He interrupted us,” Illumi deadpanned

“No, we’re done here.” Was your pointed reply before releasing his wrist. “I want to spend time with Killua.”

The slight tensing of his jaw was all you needed to confirm he wasn’t pleased with your declaration but you stood your ground until Illumi finally relented.

“I have a meeting with father so I’ll leave first.” Illumi turned to leave but not before addressing his brother. “Take care of her, Kil.”

Looking down at the forest from the top of Kukuroo mountain reminded you of home. The thin air and cool winds that tickled your face were so familiar you couldn’t believe it. All you had to do was close your eyes to picture the cliff your home sat upon and hear the waves of the sea crashing against it. Most of the memories you held near and dear to your heart involved diving off the cliff into the cool sea water with—

“Y/N!”

Immersed in your memories, you opened your eyes expecting to see your brother but found a worried Killua instead.

“It looked like you wanted to jump off.” He motioned to your hands gripping the balcony’s railing and your body leaning over.

“Ah-sorry! This just reminded me of the cliff back home. My little brother and I like to dive off of it into the sea.”

Stepping away from the balcony, you resumed walking the perimeter of the mansion. After being cooped up inside for so long, your readily accepted Killua’s tour of the Zoldyck family’s grounds and the two of you were just about finished.

“Illumi never mentioned you had a brother.

“Well he’s only eleven plus he hasn’t gotten his license yet.” Was your explanation although you doubted Illumi and the Zoldyck adults didn’t know about your baby brother given their profession and the relationship of your families.

“Is he also getting his when he turns thirteen?” There was a liveliness in his step and big blue eyes that reminded you of your brother. So as Killua matched your slower pace and waited for your reply, you found yourself caring about the middle Zoldyck sibling more than you’d ever anticipated.

“Yes, it’s our family’s tradition. In fact, I haven’t been able to see him lately because he’s been busy training.”

“Is the Hunter Exam that hard?”

You paused, thinking back on your experience, before you formulated your response. “It’s difficult for most adults with years of martial arts training so you can imagine how hard it must be for a kid. That being said, your family, like mine, doesn’t raise children normally so I’m sure if you ever decided to take the exam you would pass.”

The smile that spread across Killua’s face was infectious and you matched it with as much vigor and went so far as to ruffle his soft silver hair affectionately.

For the remainder of your stay at the Zoldyck mansion, you failed to cross paths with Illumi again. Upon returning to your room after spending the entire day with Killua, Canary informed you of Illumi’s departure for a long mission and the news came as a relief to your troubled mind.

You hoped that the time apart would serve to smother the flames of attraction Illumi’s kiss ignited.

Any further interaction with the Zoldycks—excluding Killua—was also avoided as most of them also embarked on missions of their own. The one’s left behind had been Kikyo, Milluki, and Killua which meant you weren’t summoned to any more awkward meals with the former two. For the last few days of your stay, you watched over Killua train for the upcoming Hunter Exam.

On your last day, you bid Killua and Canary farewell and trekked down the mountain debating where to go. York New was always a possibility but with your reputation the jobs would surely be difficult in your weakened state. Heaven’s Arena was also a possibility but the thought of crossing paths with a certain magician changed your mind. In the end, your weakened state and the time spent with Killua contributed to your destination—home.

A quick call to your mother confirmed your brother’s return home from his training trip and you looked forward to the time you’d spend together with him while regaining your strength. On the way to Padokea’s capital airport, you stopped by a souvenir shop to look for a gift for your brother. It was a fun little tradition in your family to bring souvenirs to him after returning home from missions, and as far as you knew, your parents hadn’t stepped foot onto Padokea ever since that event almost nineteen years ago.

A miniature version of Kukuroo Mountain on a shelf caught your eye and, after checking the price, you picked it up and took to the front. As the cashier rang you up, your phone rang with an unknown number lighting up your screen. You answered it immediately thinking it was a potential client but Illumi spoke instead.

“What did you tell him?” It was faint but you could hear the vexation in his voice.

“Tell who?”

“Killua ran away from home after injuring Mother and Milluki and I think you have something to do with it.”

You scoffed in disbelief before shutting down his accusation. “I didn’t tell Killua to attack your mother and brother. He was curious about the Hunter Exam so he probably left to take it.”

A harsh, derisive laugh filled your ear as you took your gift and stormed out of the shop. “Only a few days and you already filled his mind with foolish notions.”

“And what’s so bad about Killua becoming a hunter?”

“He’s not cut out to be a hunter. He was raised to be an assassin and cannot stray from that path.” Illumi answered, as if the reason had been obvious all along.

“He’s just a kid and deserves to have a say in what he wants to do.” You replied firmly, remembering the excited expression on Killua’s face during training. “He can work as a hunter just as well-”

“Of course an outsider like you wouldn’t understand. The Zoldyck name is synonymous with assassins. The heir can’t possibly be hunter instead.”

Illumi spoke to you like a child and if there was one thing you hated most it was being belittled. You’d been plagued by it during your rookie years and refused to go through the same thing again—even if it came from a dangerous man like Illumi.

“You’re right, Illumi, an outsider like me will never understand the inner workings of the Zoldyck family so maybe this engagement shouldn’t take place.”

Ending the call before Illumi could reply, you took a couple deep breaths before making your way to the airport now more eager than ever to return home and escape the madness that was Illumi Zoldyck.

Unlike your previous visit home, you took your time passing through the small town near your home. It was a small town that mostly profited off fishing. Many of the grounds people that worked at your home belonged to families that had lived in town for generations. Such was the case, the people that waved as you passed by were familiar to you and they knew you as well.

“Y/N!”

The distinct raspy voice from behind you sure enough turned out to be Jakob, a fisherman and the son of your family’s cook. He was a couple years older than you but the two of you grew up together and he’d been the one to teach you how to swim.

“Long time no see, Jakob! How’ve you been? How’s Petra?”

“I’m hanging in there,” Jakob grinned and held out a wooden box to you. “Petra’s six months pregnant, you see.”

You took the box and found it to be heavy and smelled like fish. “Oh congratulations! I can’t believe it’s already been a year since your marriage. You better be treating her well, Jakob.”

“I know, I know.” He replied with a roll of his eyes. “By the way, take that to my dad so he can cook it up for you and your brother. It’s from today’s catch.”

A peak into the box confirmed your suspicion and you recognized it as your brother’s favorite.

“Thanks,” you replied and closed the box. “Do you know what it’ll be?”

“The baby? It’s a girl. We found out last week.” He admitted with the biggest-shit eating grin you’d ever seen.

“She will be spoiled rotten by the two of you and your dad!” You laughed imagining old man Olvar playing with his granddaughter. “I don’t know much about kids but I’ll be sure to prepare a gift for her.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” and Jakob paused. “What about you? When are you settling down and having a family of your own?”

Jakob’s words triggered the memory of your first conversation with Illumi and you shuddered remembering his expectations of a wife.

“Not anytime soon,” you replied, shaking your head to rid yourself of the memory. “Well, I should really head up now. Say hi to Petra for me!” And with that, you said goodbye to your childhood friend and continued the trek up to your family’s home.

Passing the last home in the outskirts of town, the paved road ended and the dirt road that led all the way to your home began. The incline was quite steep but after years of climbing, you hardly noticed it. Besides, the scenery that surrounded it served as a distraction. To your left was a thick coniferous forest that stretched for miles inland and supplied the town with plenty of lumber and game. On the right was the cliff’s edge and the crashing waves of the sea below. You could practically taste the salty sea water just from the wind itself as it blew past you, whipping your hair and causing goosebumps to form across the surface of your skin.

You wanted nothing more than to drop everything and jump into the chilling waters below. It was very tempting but you figured it would be more enjoyable with your brother so you picked up the pace.

No matter how many times you visited, the warm tickling sensation in your chest never failed to manifest when you stood on the front lawn and peered up at the imposing centuries-old structure. If there was one thing your grandfather did right, it was refurbishing the old family home. Electricity flowed through every corner of the house giving it the heat and lighting it needed while the new plumbing system gave adequate water supply to all of the bathrooms and kitchens. Therefore, while the outside walls gave off the appearance of an old fortress, the interior was as modernized as any home built in the last fifty years.

Upon entering, you instantly felt a presence following your every move and it only took a moment to realize who it was. Deciding to humor him, you took the wooden box and headed towards the kitchen waiting for your little brother to emerge.

After reaching the annex, a shadow to your right caught your eye but you were faster and avoided the small fist that whizzed past your right arm.

“Ugh, you noticed me didn’t you?” Your little brother pouted, relaxing his shoulders and stance.

“Nice to see you too, ” you grinned and reached out to ruffle his hair. “And of course I did you were way too obvious.”

He slapped your hand away and patted down his hair before his eyes lit up at the sight of the wooden box and the gift bag you brought. “Are those for me?”

“Well I suppose they both technically are but the fish in the box is dinner. The bag is your souvenir from Padokea.”

You handed him the bag before picking up the box. “Now let’s take this to Olvar.”

By the time you settled in, it was dinner time and you joined your brother in the dining room. It was then that the two of you caught up since the last time you seen each other almost a year ago. You told your brother about your missions and the training you did but made sure to leave out any information about Illumi and the Zoldycks. It had been one of the conclusions you and your parents came to when discussing the debt’s repayment; your little brother would have nothing to do with it.

“So how was Padokea? I don’t think our parent’s have ever been there.”

“Lots of forests and mountains and the towns are nice.” Was your short reply and you steered the conversation towards your brother. “So how was training? Where did you go again?”

“Rokario,” He replied, stabbing a piece of fish with his fork but said nothing else to your surprise.

“Hmmm isn’t that near the NGL?” you commented. “I don’t think I’ve been to the Mitene Union.”

That last comment captured your brother’s attention and he stared at you wide-eyed. “Really?! You’ve never been there?”

For the remainder of the evening, your brother went told you everything he knew about Rokario, NGL, and the other neighboring countries. He spent a large amount of time discussing the people, flora, and fauna native only to that area of the known world. He also told you about the medicinal properties of different plants from treating a common cold to serving as a poison antidote. In the end, he didn’t tell you about his training but you figured you’d find out first-hand over the next few days.

Training was to a hunter as sunlight was to plants; it was vital to their growth. That was a fundamental that’d been passed down in your family and was engraved in you. So over the next few days when you observed your little brother’s movements and Nen strength, it became clearer that he’d slacked off in training. He was more than happy to help you out with your training but when it was his turn he’d get tired quickly and would leave to rest.

You debated when to address the issue and in the end decided to do it the day before you were set to leave. The two of you went swimming for hours before heading to shore and eating the food  Olvar had packed you.

“So…what happened,” you began taking a swig of water to wash down your food. “You’ve been slacking off during training.”

Panic flashed on your brother’s face before he looked away. “The thing is…I don’t think I want to be a hunter.”

“Wait, what? Not be a hunter?” You couldn’t believe what you’d just heard. “We’re hunters, B/N. That’s just who we are. It’s family tradition!”

“I want to help people. I want to be a doctor. I want to go to school and be a normal kid!” Tears welled up in your brother’s eyes as he looked at you.

“O-okay, we can always just postpone taking the exam so you can go to school but-”

He stood up suddenly and shook his head, tears falling on the floor. “No! You don’t get it, Y/N! I don’t want to take the exam ever! I just want to do what I want to do, not what you, mom, and dad want me to do!”

With that, your brother darted towards the house leaving you dumbfounded and confused. Ever since he first started to talk, he’d always wanted to be a hunter like the rest of you. Your parents even had him start his training early since he’d follow you around anyway. Not to mention, he also had a natural talent when it came to martial arts and was strong—even before finding out he was an Enhancer.

That night, after dining alone, you tried to figure out what had changed your brother’s mind and concluded that something must have happened during his trip. The conversation you had with him regarding the trip came to mind and you remembered the animated way he told you about the people, animals, and plants. Your brother’s face when he told you about the different medicinal properties of plants came to mind. He looked so excited and proud of himself…almost like Killua when he was training with you for the Hunter Exam.

“Hah…”

The bitter realization that you’d acted just like Illumi was like a slap in the face. What right did you have to judge Illumi when here you were telling your brother he had to become a hunter? Once you came to that realization, you thought about Illumi’s reasoning behind not wanting Killua to stray from his path and wondered if it was similar to yours. You fell asleep late that night mulling over what you would tell your brother and whether you should apologize to Illumi.

The next morning, after packing a bag for your trip, you headed to your brother’s room and knocked on his door. You heard shuffling in his room after the first few knocks but he never opened the door, so you decided to talk anyway hoping he wasn’t too upset to ignore you.

“I’m sorry about yesterday. It’s just you caught me off guard and I didn’t know how to react. You deserve to do what makes you happy and if that’s being a doctor then I’ll support you and we can talk to mom and dad about it when you’re ready. I would like for you to at least take the Hunter Exam, though. You don’t have to be hunter but it would be nice if you were licensed at least plus there’s a lot of benefits that come with it.”

You paused to see if he would open the door but you didn’t hear him move. “Well, I’m heading out now. Stay safe, okay?”

In the end, you weren’t able to see you brother again so you asked the grounds people and Olvar to look after him while your parents were away. Leaving home was always a melancholic event but this departure in particular was gloomier than usual. You wanted your brother to be happy but the family’s legacy remained steadfast in your mind.

With a sigh, you pulled out your phone. The number Illumi had called you from had been a payphone and you had no other means of contacting him, so you scrolled through your contacts until a particular name appeared on your glowing screen.

[Hisoka]