#he has used the correct pronouns for me twice this week which is more than zero

[mischief-lies-and-stories]

I Rewatched Loki for Reasons

I rewatched the entirety of the Loki show, because I have a week of an unpaid break for Thanksgiving. I did this for a reason, and not just because I have no life (though that’s part of it). You will discover this (rather unhinged) reason tomorrow. Today, we’re gonna talk about things I missed, because I don’t know how to write a retrospective and Google didn’t help me, so this is the best I can do. So enjoy! (Spoilers for all of Loki)

Season 1, Episode 1

The very first time we see Mobius he stops a hunter from pruning a child. And then he’s kind to the child. We see his personality and we also see something that becomes a recurring theme in the series: he has a soft spot for children.

The “scared little boy shivering in the cold” line (which is actually the option of Mobius’s motivation Loki takes as the truth, and also the one I accept).

His sons (I have a problem with how he acts at work about them, but every other time he talks about them or interacts with them he does show he cares about them)

The boy at the Black Sea he couldn’t prune 

The fact that a Loki specialist is noticeably absent from an arrest of a Loki when his partner leads the charge, so he should have been there (Sylvie’s arrest)

Still annoyed Loki didn’t correct Mobius in the finale when Mobius credited Renslayer for getting Loki off. He tells Mobius in 2x05 that Mobius saved his life. I think even though it’s the end, even though Mobius isn’t gonna remember this interaction, it would’ve been important to Loki that he knows that he did that, not Renslayer. Loki remembers everything, Loki remembers how that went down, he knows it was Mobius and has already told Mobius so once. He would do it again. 

I think this changes in episode 2, but Mobius never uses pronouns for Sylvie. Other hunters and Loki assume he/him, but Mobius only refers to Sylvie as a Loki variant.

Season 1, Episode 2

Damn, okay, keep showing off that eidetic memory, Loki.

C’mon Mobius, why did you have to immediately start assuming male pronouns for Sylvie like everyone else? I liked that you didn’t do that in the last episode.

Loki talks about getting his magic back this episode, and then uses it twice: to dry himself and to summon something to use as a weapon: Weak.

Season 1, Episode 3

Loki and Sylvie have got such great sibling rivalry energy. I love every time they interact when I’m not scared they’re gonna kiss.

I maintain that the expression Loki makes and his noncommittal grunt in answer to Sylvie’s “real” implies that there was something, however brief, that felt real to him or that he wanted to be real. Given we never see any relationships in the movies, and that Where Mischief Lies is supposed to be a prequel to the MCU, I still think he thinks of Theo here (and maybe even Amora).

Why did Loki get drunk on the train? Sylvie makes him talk about his mom, whom he hasn’t seen in over a year. He remembers Mobius telling him that he causes her death, and that he can never see her again anyway. He was reminded of Theo, so he’s also got that centuries-old guilt rattling around in his brain again, and he’s starting to think he might be falling for himself which is insane for so many reasons. And he’s just got done being tortured for a year, so he’s not exactly in the best headspace to work through any emotions in a healthy manner.

Season 1, Episode 4

The hair flips are way more extensive than I remember them.

Season 1, Episode 5

Wait, so Renslayer doesn’t remember He Who Remains, she didn’t know the Timekeepers were fake, she doesn’t know she’s a variant, but she knows about the void? Did Mobius know about the void? So even though pruning hurt, he knew he wasn’t being killed?

Thunder rumbles in the void, and Loki looks up again. He’s still looking for Thor.

Kid Loki: “Whenever one of us dares try to fix themselves they’re sent here to die.” You didn’t kill Thor. Not a fucking chance. I was right!!

They literally said Loki knows enchantment magic when they enchant Alioth. “Because we’re the same,” Sylvie says. So why the fuck does Loki never have a chance to do it himself in season 2?

Season 1, Episode 6

Mobius was pruned before they found out the Timekeepers were fake (and I’m watching this episode about 18 hours after the last and I don’t have an eidetic memory like Loki, so forgive me if I’ve forgotten something), and we don’t see Mobius and Sylvie talk about that in the car, nor do Sylvie and Loki fill him in on that after so Mobius and Sylvie must have talked off screen. What else did they talk about???

The interaction between Renslayer and Mobius in this episode carries such a different weight knowing the mission that eventually took both of them off the beat cop path and more or less out of the field.

So no one told me to stop talking about biblical imagery, but for some reason I’m trying to resist. But sorry I can’t help myself, even though this was probably pointed out by countless analyzers when it came out two years ago. He Who Remains keeps tongue in cheek referring to himself as the devil, and then he first shows up eating a fucking apple, which has been primarily accepted as the Forbidden Fruit (it isn’t really. In the Bible it isn’t specified which fruit it is).

So Sylvie was right, in a way. He Who Remains is lying here. He knows this isn’t the end when she kills him, though he never actually plans for Timely to replace him like we speculated. Timely was just meant to be the tool to get Loki back to this moment, to (by He Who Remains’s hope) kill Sylvie and save him, so he can survive to control the timeline another day. He also manages to predict how the series ends, by proposing that Loki (and Sylvie) take over for him. He certainly doesn’t intend for Loki to go about it the way that he does, I don’t think, but he’s essentially not wrong. Loki does take over custodianship of the timeline(s) after He Who Remains.

At this point, I’m with Sylvie, I think the “threshold” is bullshit. I think what people figured out about it coinciding with WandaVision (and I don’t know if Marvel commented on that since) is legit, but I think he uses it as an excuse. He knows Sylvie is gonna try to kill him and Loki is gonna try to stop her and Sylvie is gonna use the TemPad to send him away. He places the TemPad in the perfect location for her to use, under the guise of doing it to symbolize offering them the mantle. But it’s a ruse. It’s where Sylvie can reach it to send Loki away. I think when she says he’s lying she’s also referring to him doing this to hold off his variants and another multiversal war, and in that respect I think she’s wrong. I mean, we’ve essentially gotten proof that she’s wrong. But he does know what’s happening.

And that’s the image and Mobius’s parting words they left us with for 2 fucking years.

Season 2, Episode 1

I still don’t understand why it never gets explained how OB remembers meeting Loki in the past but Mobius, Casey, and Verity (I will never let this Easter egg about B-15’s backstory go) don’t.

I’m coming off of season 1 (obviously) and before that, two watches of episode 6. I forgot how fucking painful the slipping is for him in this episode. Loki screams in agony every fucking time. Jesus.

Like, I know I’m a fool. But Mobius already thinks he’s into Sylvie, so he wouldn’t be that shocked to hear they kissed. So why does Loki just skip over that detail? Could it be that even in his frantic sense of panic, Loki knows that if he mentions a kiss it’ll completely derail Mobius and he’ll never let it go?

The end of this episode, with Loki almost being separated and Mobius being able to do nothing about it is such painful foreshadowing UGH.

Season 2, Episode 2

Why does Loki always insist on popping his collar? Mobius didn’t teach him that. Why does he think that’s cool/obnoxious? Did Mobius make an annoyed comment offscreen in season 1 and now he just does it to annoy him on purpose?

Season 2, Episode 3

I love this version of the show theme, slower and deeper.

Season 2, Episode 4

I want more clever teamwork with magic from Sylvie and Loki like when they jump Brad. Every time I watch it it makes me giddy. 

In episode 6, when Loki tells Timely what to do, he does all of OB’s gestures exactly the same. Can someone please just state outright that my boi has an eidetic memory already? 

Season 2, Episode 5

Loki steps into the door of Piranha Powersports (and he’s already seen Mobius/Don through the window, so he knows he’s here), takes one look at Mobius/Don, hears two words in his voice, and even though the camera is across the room, you can see the actual sigh of relief he lets out. Mobius is here, he’s finally back with Mobius, Mobius is okay, everything is all right now. 

OB wants to quit teaching and write full time. The! Dream! (I mean, I haven’t had an idea for original characters since I was in college and I don’t have the patience to write anything longer than 3k words most of the time, but still. Fucking ideal)

Me: I love how Loki is always so calm and patient with OB.

Meanwhile, Loki: *strongly considers zapping OB back after they do it to him to try to jumpstart the time slipping*

Also OB, Loki is used to getting electrocuted. I bet that barely hurt, like how getting shanked is just a Tuesday afternoon for Thor at this point.

Did I start crying when he said “I can rewrite the story,” even though I’ve seen this episode 3 times now? Maybe.

Season 2, Episode 6

No! Why the fuck is the next episode screen the shot of Mobius and Sylvie looking through the door in horror as Loki steps out towards the Loom?! That’s not fucking fair! It’s fucking upsetting is what it is.

Has anyone stopped to wonder why this launcher even exists at the end of the gangway? Or why there’s a gangway out to the loom to begin with? I’m not even talking about the fact that the loom was always meant to explode if it got overloaded and reset the TVA. I mean even before they learned that, there was never supposed to be more than one timeline passing through the loom anyway. The branches were always meant to be pruned well before it got to this point. 

Why yes, “Ascension” did make me cry again. I blame Hiddleston for introducing me to redemptive arcs in classical pieces. Because this track has it and that’s the moment I start sobbing. 

If you’re still here, thank you. I can’t believe I still have thoughts about this series. I will leave you with this.

Favorite Episodes

Season 1: Episode 5: Journey Into Mystery 

Season 2: Episode 3: 1893

And I will see you tomorrow for some unhinged shit which was the real reason I watched the whole show again. Maybe strap in now? 

#loki #loki tv show #loki season 2 #loki theories #sylvie laufeydottir #loki season 2 spoilers #mobius m mobius #lokius #loki season 1 #Loki season 1 spoilers

[cosmic-collective-arc]

i need to dump my merlin thoughts somewhere bc my thoughts are ZOOMING - MERLIN METAPHOR FOR SYSTEM

so lots of people talk abt merlin being a metaphor for being queer and i also mainly see it that way but I also relate to it heavily with being a system. Using special interests help me massively to be able to understand my own thoughts and feelings after years of masking and also having a dissociative idenity disorder which both evaporated my sense of self. This is not in anyway me saying this is the ‘correct’ metaphor i am just relating the show to my experience and how i interpret it :D

(this is kinda venty and also spoilers for merlin)

The main thing is the lying obviously

merlin throughout the show CONSTANTLY had to lie, always to protect himself or others, even to people who know about his magic and people who are magical (e.g. morgana)

I also find us collectively lying constantly, first off, obviously to singlets who have no idea we are a system and would likely not deal with the information well, it’s simply not safe for us to tell every person we meet we’re a system. Having to lie every time you front about who you are is absolutely horrible especially when you have to mask neurodivergence, anger and stress among other things, it’s fucking exhausting and many people who front frequently have to take month long breaks to try and build their sense of self back up and to recover, so much so we try not to let ppl front more than twice a week.

Then with people we know it’s so much more difficult, sometimes members don’t want to tell people they’ve switched (for a variety of reasons from not wanting to be related to their source/seen as their source to getting upset and not wanting people to know there’s been a switch) and then they lie about who they are and have to act like that person to maintain the lie, which is so much more difficult that just our “generic personality”.

And other times where something rly shitty has happened innerworld but you can’t tell anyone bc that would be a breach of an alter’s privacy. Sometimes even within system you can’t talk to anybody about it because you don’t want to spread gossip and cause problems.

Other times where members are so scared of feeling vulnerable they hide under layers of humour and confidence and all that other shit and you can only watch, because it would blow up in your face if you did anything else.

Being so overjoyed over acceptance and meeting somebody the same as you and being disappointed

an example i want to talk about is gaius. Gaius was always rly strange abt merlin’s magic, he was like u should hide ur magic bc u must protect ur life blah blah and then was like nvm use ur magic bc we will die otherwise. He shyed away from the topic of magic often and didn’t rly discuss it unless merlin brought it up or it was important to the situation. And imo it was talked abt quite a lot when gaius first discovered merlin’s magic, but merlin stopped telling him about his magic more and more, thus, merlins magic was discussed less and less.

I feel like a similar thing has happened with us as a system. People who know about us being a system don’t rly talk about it unless we bring it up specifically. We make it easy to find out who is fronting, however it’s rare for us to be called by our own name. Even rarer to have our own prns used for us. And yes, I can rationalise to a point that this is due to people talking to us, therefore typically not having to use our name or pronouns, however when i say rarely i mean extremely rarely, as in we can remember only one instance where someone used alter specific pronouns for us (and that was a while ago). As in, we can only remember an alters name being used a handful of times in the last year. (In fairness our memory is shit but it’s not that shit, bc using correct shit is like a monumental event). But when we first came out as a system, people didn’t shy away from the topic, alter names were used regularly, people made sure to check who was fronting. Hell, one person even shook our hand everyday and would try and guess who was fronting and actually got kinda good at it at some point which was validating asf (and they had made sure to check we were ok with it). But that all stopped and we never understood why, we have even questioned about whether an alter had said something to get them all to stop, but it was gradual so it couldn’t have been that. All in all it gave us a feeling of not being truly seen as a system.

Another example is when arthur found out about merlin’s magic. Merlin had to justify his existence and explain to arthur why he wasn’t evil.

I related this to how lots of pieces of media demonises systems and many systems having to justify that they aren’t, in fact, going to murder anyone or commit some other serious crime.

however, relating it to a more personal experience, we were talking to this new person, let’s call them D. D had casually brought up systems in conversation and the person who was fronting at the time got extremely excited and was asking if they were a system etc etc. Turns out they weren’t a system but their partner was a system. D started talking to us about system stuff and it was quite nice, we were having a great conversation about non human alters and etc. However, D started talking about their partner and was explaining how members in their partner’s sys could be violent and they had had to defend themself at times. Now yes, some systems can have outwardly violent parts but it’s pretty rare, this study shows that DID systems are not that prone to crime . And D kept talking to us about all the things this system had done and we felt the need to explain that no we weren’t outwardly violent, and no we hadn’t attacked anybody and so on.

and then we have kilgharrah, i hate kilgharrah sm. The great dragon was the first magical being merlin had a proper conversation with, and not getting into the whole conversation about how kilgharrah manipulated merlin, because thats not what i’m trying to talk about rn. Merlin went to kilgharrah for advice whenever he faced a problem, which was often, and kilgharrah would give him advice but normally the advice didn’t rly make sense bc merlin didn’t know the future and didn’t have a huge understanding of magic.

We were in a situation where we already knew a system when we had discovered we were a system, and obviously we sought advice from them. And they gave us advice, however as our systems work differently in quite a lot of aspects, a lot of the things that worked for them, had the opposite effect for us. Such as, they switch multiple times a day to not switching for weeks. However, for us having the same person in front for extended periods of time causes disastrous effects for our system. We need to switch pretty frequently or our mental health goes down the gutter and too many switches gives us debilitating headaches. And in their innerworld they use a monetary system, whereas we have completely refused to implement that. Now they didn’t do this on purpose (unlike kilgharrah that ASSHOLE-) but it still caused a lot of problems for a long time until we figured out what we needed.

Feeling seperated

Merlin, imo, also seemed to feel seperated from everyone else due to his magic and probably experienced imposter syndrome. His magic was something to shy away from, something not to be talked about, something to hide, but it’s part of him and it’s not going to go away. He didn’t feel as though he could talk about it to anyone, even people who knew, not gaius, not kilgharrah. He talked about it to lancelot yeah but lancelot didn’t have magic, it wasn’t the same and lancelot didn’t exactly stick around for long.

At times, i feel the only people i can talk about being a system to is my own sysmates, singlets haven’t experienced it, they don’t know what it’s actually like. And the imposter syndrome we experience as a system is horrible, the fact i am literally not who i say i am, i’m a complete and utter liar 90% of the time. Sometimes i feel that i experience life so differently from singlets that it’s difficult to even make conversation, i’m hyper aware of every little thing I am experiencing that singlets don’t. Singlets don’t get surprised when they catch their reflection in the mirror, singlets don’t have times where they are hyper aware about how their body is wrong, singlets don’t forget what their name is and therefore miss their name on the register, singlets don’t have to keep somebody else’s routine because otherwise everything feels off, singlets don’t have alters who have to talk them down from panic attacks, singlets don’t have alters who will point out something stupid or funny a teacher does during a dull class, singlets don’t have to hide their smile when an alter makes a joke but it’s not appropriate to randomly smile.

Extremely mixed emotions

Merlin at times hated his magic, he hated having to hide it, he hated how difficult it made his life, his magic made him suffer so much. But he also cherished it, he didn’t know what he would be without his magic, his magic was a part of him, his magic made him happy. Merlin wouldn’t be alive without his magic.

I could basically just switch out magic for system. At times we hated being a system, we hated having to hide it, we hated how difficult it made our life, how much being a system made us suffer. Being a system can be an extremely difficult situation and really shitty at times.

But it also has good things. We also cherish being a system, we don’t know what we would be if we weren’t a system, being a system is part of us, being a system can make us happy. We wouldn’t be alive if we weren’t a system.

Yes, being a system is difficult and horrible and shitty and we wouldn’t wish it on anyone, but it is also what made us survive. We can give eachother comfort and reassurance when we don’t feel able to reach out to others, we can make eachother smile and laugh and feel better about the world. We can be our own support system when me had none.

#did system #did community #actually did #traumagenic system #endos dni #actually autistic #special interest #did vent #system vent #kind of #i guess #maybe #neurodivergent #actually plural #system stuff #system #bbc merlin #merlin #if any friends see this i promise this is not a personal attack or a jab #i promise we aren’t angry at you or anything #we are just emotioning because of stress #and trying to deal with it

[trans-cuchulainn]

ahhhhhh i’m just so stressed about the whole... state of the world situation. at least when i lived alone i could go full hermit and batten down the hatches and never go out / see anyone but now i live with Other People and i don’t control what the household does or who comes here. and don’t get me wrong, nobody here is being irresponsible, they’re all testing and masking and stuff, but it’s still not my call whether relatives come for christmas etc, so i cannot go as hermit as i would like to and i’m stressed >:(

this is the least control over my living situation that i’ve had since the start of the pandemic and i think that makes me a lot more scared than any of the previous waves have, plus the general sense of stress and loss of control over my life (e.g. i don’t do the food shopping so i don’t have as much power over my meals, what food is in the house, that kind of thing, and the scrutiny of what time of day i’m awake doesn’t make me more diurnal it just makes me stressed about being nocturnal)

hngh i gotta move out but how and where

#plagueblogging #really hoping that interview in january works out for me #since it would DEFINITELY enable me to move #it's not a case of 'and then i could possibly move out' #it's 'if i get that role i WILL be moving out' #also because i just don't know how much i'll enjoy living at home in the immediate post-top surgery recovery period #like sure it'll be helpful to have help but my dad is so anti- the whole thing i feel like it'll be really pass-agg the whole time #i would quite honestly rather deal with the pain of doing things on my own or the embarrassment of asking flatmates #my mum told me she hasn't even told him the surgery date yet so like. i can't bring it up in case it surprises him and makes drama #ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh #he has used the correct pronouns for me twice this week which is more than zero #but has still used the wrong ones more times than that so you know the progress is very slow #anyway i hate living at home!!! god i wish my day job paid me more!!! #fingers crossed i get that extra contract next year that'll boost my earnings above poverty level #being kind of freelance is so unpredictable in terms of salary -_- #also don't get me wrong i love my parents and stuff #i just don't like living with them #i am too old to be able to deal with the loss of independence #i've spent too much time living as an adult to be comfortable coming home #personal #WOW tag rant sorry

[marvelmusing]

Biology Lessons

Alpha!Modern!Laszlo Kreizler x Omega!Fem!Reader

My Masterlist

A/N: I was curious about the biology of A/B/O and ended up reading a lot of Wikipedia pages, 3000 words and a small Alpha Laszlo obsession later here we are

WARNINGS: 18+ content, unprotected smut, A/B/O dynamics, reader has female anatomy but no gender specific pronouns have been used (if there have been please let me know)

You and Laszlo had been together for two years. During this time you had been intimate on plenty of occasions, however you’d always ignored your secondary sex. When together, you were just two lovers, not an Alpha and Omega. You had limited experience with dealing with your biology and Laszlo had respected your decision to stay on your suppressants. He, in turn, had begun taking some of the weaker forms of suppressants. The kind that reduced his rut to a few days that he spent at John’s house. This situation worked well, until you reached the point where you changed your mind and wanted to come off your suppressants. You trusted Laszlo to help you through it and he was more than eager to take care of you.

“Have you ever had a heat?” Laszlo asks you. The two of you are sitting in his downstairs office at his house. The fire crackles in the hearth, casting a glow over Laszlo’s face as he watches you. Your eyes wander as you think about it.

“Once or twice when I first presented. But I started on suppressants pretty young.” He frowns a little, and you know his medical side disapproves. “We never learnt much about it in school.” You explain, trying to justify your decision. He nods immediately,

“Of course. The education system is curated for the success of Alphas. That, and sex education regarding Omegas is still often considered taboo.” He places a hand on your knee, “That’s not your fault, drágám.” You nod, keeping your focus on the hem of the robe you’re wearing - Laszlo’s bathrobe. “Would you like me to explain it to you?” Your face warms at the thought, and you shake your head.

“You don’t have to.”

“No, but I’d like to. I think you deserve to know about yourself.” You give him a small nod. He smiles kindly at you and beckons you closer. When you approach him, he pulls you into his lap. “What would you like to know?” He asks you. You shrug slightly, fiddling with your fingers.

“I don’t know.” You admit quietly. He hums in thought, before asking you,

“How would you describe my scent?” You nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck as you inhale his scent. He smiles softly, his hand resting at the back of your neck, knowing that his scent will take the edge off your nerves. Your eyes flutter open as a small smile tugs at your lips.

“It’s like the citrus soap from my grandmother’s house, and the smell of new books, and your office, and like home.” You tell him and he squeezes the back of your neck affectionately.

“You smell like a field of fresh flowers, clean linen, and warm sugared tea. Soft and sweet, and safe.” He admits. You smile up at him as you lean your temple against his shoulder. He taps your nose gently with the tip of his finger. “The scent receptors in your nose pick up my scent and your body’s response depends on how appealing you find it.”

“Very appealing.” You admit against his neck and he hums affectionately.

“This is what helps you decide on my suitability as a mate. As well as other factors such as aesthetics, personality, and overall attraction.”

“That, and you’re one of the kindest, most loving men I’ve ever met.” He looks down, never used to the praise you always give him. His smile widens as he leans in to kiss your cheek.

“Enough flattery from you. It’s time for our lesson.” He tightens his hold on you as you smile at him, resting his weaker hand on your thigh. “Heat cycles occur once every season, so usually four in a year. The heat itself lasts between five and ten days, but that depends on the person.” His thumb skims across the skin of your bare legs lightly. “While Omegas can be sexually active outside of their heat, it is much more pleasurable during their cycle.” You’ve always loved listening to him talk, but hearing him explain all this to you has your body melting against his as your eyes remain fixed on his lips as he speaks. “Did you know that, as your mate, I may be able to trigger your heat?” You blink at him in surprise. You didn’t know that. “It isn’t always possible, but would you like me to try?” He asks, noticing your interest. You nod cautiously, and he takes your hands as he guides you off his lap, before pulling you towards the centre of his office. He sits you down on his desk with your legs parted, and he stands between them. He places his warm hands on your thighs, and nuzzles his nose against your neck. “You know where your scent glands are, yes?” You nod. You tap your finger against the ones on each side of your throat, then bare your wrists to him to show him the areas. You frown before mentioning,

“There’s another pair, I think, but I don’t know where they are.” He smiles proudly at you,

“Correct. There is one here, and here.” He tells you, trailing his fingers along each of your thighs. “They’re a little different from your other ones, which is why most people forget about them.” He squeezes your thighs tenderly as he continues his explanation. “Their main purpose is so that when you go into heat your slick will smell of your Alpha, and tell everyone that you’re taken.” You swallow the whine in your throat, but he knows the effect he’s having on you already. “How long have you been off your suppressants?” He asks you. He knows the answer of course, but he wants to see if your mind is still functioning.

“Around two weeks.” He nods,

“The perfect time to trigger your heat. That is of course if you want to?” You nod hurriedly,

“Please.” He steps closer,

“All I need to do is apply a little pressure here,” the pads of his fingers press against the glands in your thighs. He smiles at the sight of your head falling back, bearing your neck to him. “A little stimulus here.” His tongue moves across the pulse of your throat, sending a shudder down your spine. “And for you to take a nice deep breath.” You do as he says, your body responding instantly to his pheromones. He smells the change in your scent and smiles. “There you go, good Omega.” He coos. You whine at the warmth spreading slowly through your body as you cling to your Alpha. “You should be feeling rather warm now.” You nod your head a few times in agreement. He hums, “And I can smell your slick already.” He nuzzles his lips against your neck, and you whine for him. “By triggering your heat, we’ve skipped the pre-heat nesting stage. But don’t worry Omega, I’ve prepared the bed for you, and you can fix it up just how you like it tomorrow.” You’re beginning to pant and a shimmer of sweat is coating your skin as your fingers tug at his clothing. His words certainly aren’t helping either. He cups your face. “But right now, I think my Omega needs my knot, yes?” You nod hurriedly,

“Alpha, please.” You loop your arms around his neck, wrapping your legs around his torso, and he hooks his hands underneath your thighs. He lifts you from his desk and takes you up to the bed. When you see the bed set up, a large number of pillows at one end, blankets bunched up the sides, and the whole place smells of Laszlo’s cologne. “Laszlo.” You whisper softly, as the sight pulls on your heartstrings.

“I wanted everything to be perfect.” He admits, leaning in to kiss you.

“You’re here, it couldn’t be more perfect.” You tell him through the kiss. You can feel his grin as his mouth moves against yours, the back of your legs meeting the bed, and he guides you down carefully. He pulls at the belt of the bathrobe, letting it fall open and taking a moment to admire you. He pulls away to remove his clothes, and you whimper at the lack of contact. You take this moment as an opportunity to slip the robe from your body, abandoning it on the floor. You turn onto your stomach, hands smoothing up the bedsheets to rest above your head. Hips shifting needily, you arch your back, your knees digging into the mattress. Once he’s undressed, Laszlo looks back at you and his jaw nearly drops, though he’s quick to recover.

“Such a pretty picture, my beautiful Omega, already presenting for me.” He settles between your open thighs, leaning his body over yours. You rut your hips back against his, desperate for any sort of friction. You feel his smirk as his mouth moves across your shoulder. His hand descends between your thighs, fingers pressing against your warm folds. “And you’re so wet already, drágám.” He slips his finger deep into you, drawing a needy gasp from your lips.

“Laszlo, Alpha, please.”

“More?”

“Yes, yes please.” He removes his finger, leaving you whining, your hips chasing him. His hands curl around your waist, squeezing you gently as he tuts.

“Patience Omega.” But you don’t have to wait long, as he lines himself up to your entrance. In one fluid motion he’s filled you up, your eyes squeezed shut and your back arching against the mattress. “Such a perfect fit.” He moans against your neck, his accent getting thicker as you take in every inch of him. He kisses your shoulder delicately.

“Tell me when I can move, édesem.” You take a few gasping breaths, trying to become accustomed to the haze filling your mind. He notices your struggle. “Relax Omega. Let me take care of you.” A tiny whine catches in your throat, then you’re nodding.

“Please, Alpha.” His forehead presses between your shoulder blades as he moves in and out of you. Every single one of your moans and gasps has him nearing the edge of his restraint. Whilst Laszlo wants to focus on you, his need is slowly growing and he wants to ensure you want this.

“Drágám, darling Omega,” he rasps out. “I don’t think I can hold back for much longer.”

“Don’t, please. Don’t hold back.” That’s all it takes for his pace to increase. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of your thighs as he pushes you closer. You press your forehead hard against the plush of the mattress as you feel his knot pushing against your entrance. You whine, desperate for him to fill you completely. Growling against the skin of your back, nails gripping onto your hips, he drives his hips harder against yours. You don’t feel the thin red lines trailing down your thighs as you clench around him. “Are you ready for my knot, Omega? I know you’re close.” You can’t reply. Your mind is completely lost to the feeling of your Alpha taking you to pieces. “I need you to come, so my knot can stuff you full.” As soon as he knows you’re about to come he pushes his knot into you. Your eyes roll back, and you come hard with a broken cry. Only a moment later Laszlo comes as well, his lips grazing down your spine as he does. His knot swells, ensuring none of your slick escapes. Your body goes slack as the two of you attempt to catch your breath. You feel Laszlo’s breathing tickle the skin of your back as it slowly returns to normal. He shifts his weight slightly. “This may feel a little odd.” He warns you. He takes hold of your leg and moves it to the other side of him, effectively spinning you around and lying you down with your back to the mattress. You gasp a little at the change in position, his knot still holding deep inside you. “Now this is better.” He remarks, leaning down to kiss your lips. He takes your hands in his own, letting them run down your spent body. “Can you feel how full you are?” He pushes your hands over your abdomen, your fingers skimming over the bulge caused by his knot. “You did so well Omega, letting me fill you up like this.” He leans forward, nuzzling against your neck. “Such a brave Omega.” He coos. His praises and gentle touches soon have you coming back to your senses. Laszlo notices when the haze has cleared from your eyes, and gives you a soft smile.

“Hi.” You whisper.

“Hello.” The two of you stay in each other’s arms for a while, simply enjoying the close proximity to one another. You rub your fingers over his chest, before reaching up to curl them into the hair at the back of his neck.

“Laszlo,” you say softly, tilting your head back to bear your neck to him. “Can I have your mark?” He seems a little taken aback by your request.

“You- you want…”

“To be yours.” You watch his eyes darken slightly, and he claims your lips again. When he pulls away you’re breathless again.

“You’re sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything.” You tell him. “That is, of course, if you want me.”

“Édesem, you are my world.” You both share a tender smile. He cradles the side of your face before tilting your head back. He nuzzles his lips gently against your throat. “With your current level of endorphins you shouldn’t feel too much pain…”

“I love you.” You interrupt him, your smile wide.

“I love you too, drágám.” He presses a soft kiss to the mating gland at your throat, before sinking his teeth down. You clench your teeth, nails digging into the sheets at the sharp sting of your skin breaking. Then, a wave of pleasure rolls through you as your bond snaps into place. You feel Laszlo lapping at the small wound. “All good?” He asks you. You nod with a smile.

“Though, if you bring up that saliva is a natural healing agent I will kick you out of bed.” He chuckles.

“Before I get my own mark. How cruel.” You frown at him.

“What?”

“Alphas also have a mating gland.” You nod, your frown still present,

“I didn’t think- I’ve never seen-“

“Very few Alphas feel the need to wear their mate’s mark. However, I want the world to know I’m yours.” He smiles, watching the primal urge shimmer in your eyes, though he senses your lingering hesitance. “It won’t hurt me, drágám.” Your eyes flicker down to his neck, and he leans closer. “Right here.” He guides you to the spot against his throat. You cup his face carefully, taking a moment to nuzzle against his neck, breathing in his scent. “Don’t be scared Omega. Take what’s yours.” You sink your teeth into his throat, sucking gently at the break of his skin. You feel him shudder against you as your bond strengthens. You trace your tongue carefully along the wound. He leans down to kiss you again, your first kiss as a mated couple. You share a few more slow, loving kisses before Laszlo pulls away. He reaches down towards the bottom of the bed, pulling out a towel and lying it beneath your hips. You frown lightly at him. “Can’t have our nest getting dirty, can we?” Your face morphs into an affectionate smile. Your mate really does think of everything. You whimper when he pulls out, but he rubs your thighs reassuringly and presses kisses over your face. You giggle softly and he beams at you. He ensures the majority of the mess is soaked up by the towel before discarding it. He presses a kiss to your temple, “I’ll be right back Omega.” He’s gone for under thirty seconds, but you both feel the pull of your bond. When it’s fresh like this you can’t be parted for long. He returns with some wet wipes, and begins to clean the two of you up. The coolness soothes you, pushing the heat symptoms even further away. You smile softly at Laszlo and he shares your smile as the two of you spend a moment admiring one another. He throws the wipes away and settles down by your side. You nuzzle against him, purring contentedly. He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Get some sleep drágám.”

•*•*•*•

Early the next morning, Laszlo is stirred from his sleep by some sort of movement at his side. The bedroom is still in semi-darkness, the sun hasn’t quite risen into the sky yet, but there’s enough light to see by. The sight before him warms his heart. You’re adjusting a pillow beside you, tucking it under the quilt to secure the wall of your nest. You have one of his shirts tucked under your arm, and nuzzle into one of the pillows.

“What are you doing, Omega?” He asks, his voice still thick with sleep. He can feel your blush as you mumble,

“Just getting comfortable.” He chuckles softly, pulling himself closer to you. You immediately melt into his arms, your body lying flush against his chest. He trails a hand down your spine, and despite your shiver, he can feel your body heat increasing.

“Ready to go again?” He suggests. You pout, the tiredness behind your eyes creeping up on you despite the slick gathering between your thighs.

“M’ tired.” You mumble against his chest.

“I know you are.” He coos, guiding your hips towards his. “But all you need to do is be a good Omega and keep me warm.” You sigh in relief at the feeling of him filling you, eyes fluttering shut as he continues, his accent thickening. “Yes, that’s all your heat-ridden body’s good for, isn’t it?” He feels you tighten at his words and he groans against your neck. “Don’t worry Omega, I’m going to take such good care of you.”

#modern laszlo kreizler #laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo kreizler x you #laszlo kreizler imagine #the alienist laszlo #laszlo kreizler smut #alpha!laszlo kreizler #alpha laszlo kreizler x omega reader #alpha laszlo kreizler #abo au #modern laszlo kreizler x reader #modern!laszlo kreizler #modern!laszlo kreizler x reader #the alienist x reader

[wittyrosebush]

Dream SMP Reacting to a Witch!Hybrid

Pronouns: they/them

Includes: Dream, Quackity, Wilbur, qnd Tommy (PLATONIC)

Warnings: Meantion of drugs, swearing

A/N: This is based off of the canon characters and is set in the time of the Pogtopia/Manburg war!!! I might write a second part if this goes well. Also, this is the first thing I have written for this fandom, so I hope I get the character personalities correct. This is not beta read, so please don't attack me on my poor grammar skills. 😅

I hope you all enjoy!!! 💙

Dream

He was mining when he first met you

Dream heard a malicious cackle on the dark side of the cave and slowly drew his sword

He decided to charge towards the strange noise and was quickly met with an invisible body under him

He furrowed his brows and felt the body shuffle out from under him

"BEGONE STRANGE MAN"

"... excuse me?"

After a moment, Y/N's potion has worn off

"Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-"

Dream chuckled and put away his sword, deciding the person in front of him wasn't a threat

After Y/n calmed down, the two had a talk, explaining the situation

Turns out, you had thought of a joke while mining for redstone (hence the laughter)

"So where is your hat and huge nose? You are really attractive for a witch."

"Luckily, I got my attributes from my father. What was that last part?."

"Wait, what about your hat?"

"I haven't done laundry in a few days.... hold up did you just say I was attractive?"

Ever since then Dream has had you by his side partly because he is a little clingy creating potions for him and the rest of the dream team

"How do you feel about cursing children?"

"I'm not that kind of witch, Dream."

"But what if he was being a little blonde bitch?"

"DREAMWASTAKEN I SWEAR TO GOD-"

Loves bringing you stuff to use for your projects

Need blaze rods for a new brewing stand? Done.

Need lapis lazuli so you have a chance for better communication? Done.

Anything you want? Done.

He will literally go to the nether for a few hours and come back with his arms full of whatever you need

And if you don't need anything or just need to take a break, he'll spend the day taking you anywhere that he think you would be happiest

He has you make him a lot of potions, bragging to everyone on the server how much better at creating potions you are

"Y/n's potions last longer, are more effective, prettier-"

"Are you sure? I think-"

"Tell me what you think, I fuckin dare you >:( ."

Overall, he is your #1 supporter

Quackity

The day had been long, dealing with Schlatt definitely tires a guy out after 5 minutes

On his walk on the outskirts of the Manburg wall, he spotted a suspicious row of blaze powder leading to the woods

Dawning his armor and a sword, he followed the trail to a small hut

He could see the outline of someone in the hut nervously pacing around

Deciding what he thought was the best possible option, he knocked on the door of the hut

There was immediately the sound of glass bottles falling on the floor and muffled words

Soon, the door swung open to reveal a disheveled being with a nervous grin

And Quackity went from tough to awkward

"C-Can I help you with something?"

"Uh, do you waNT SOME DRUGS?"

"ExCuSe Me?!"

Everything was going to shit

After a moment of awkward staring, a glass bottle tumbled off the brewing stand

Upon focusing on what was going on behind the two people trying and failing to act normal, they both saw that every brewing stand was on fire

"ARE YOU ACTUALLY MAKING DRUGS?!"

"NO I'M JUST REALLY BAD AT THIS POTION."

Finally putting the fire out together, the two looked at their now soot stained clothes

The witch hybrid ran a hand through their hair and sighed

"Well this is completely ruined."

Quackity frowned a little hesitant to offer his help

"If you need to you could borrow some brewing stands-"

"Really? *-* "

On the walk back to Manburg, you explained who you were

Quackity was still a little confused

"Wait but what potion were you even brewing?"

"Fire resistance."

He immediately burst out laughing, which ended up with you slapping his arm repeatedly

Eventually, you two became the definition of the "friends to lovers" trope

You often helped him de-stress after stressful days in office with Schlatt

He'd try whatever you recommended

"I'd suggest putting quartz on your nightstand."

"Cool!"

Later that night, you forgot something at his house

Once you walked into his house, you could see stacks of quartz next to his bed.

He really trusted any advice you could give him

And on days where people would criticize you for being part witch?

Big Q will attack anyone

Even if he knows he will lose

And at random parts of the day he'll just tell you oddly inspirational thoughts

"You are a bad bitch, dare I say a bad witch. Own that shit."

"That is oddly motivational, thank you. :) "

Wilbur

The former president was strolling along the side of a river, trying to form a coherent plan of action

Upon noticing a person trudging out of the water fumbling with glass bottles, Wilbur jogged over to them and put a careful hand on their shoulder

"Are you okay?"

The person moved the soggy hat out of their face and smiled

"Yeah, I just fell in the water while trying to fill up some of the bottles, but thanks for checking on me!"

He hummed in response, wondering why he was already so interested in the being before him

"Well I should probably get going, but thank you!"

"Wait! What's you name?"

"It's Y/n, and you are..?"

"Wilbur Soot, it was an honor meeting you, Y/n."

This man spent the rest of the night thinking about you and who the hell you were

He didn't know much about the mysterious person, but he did know that they were one of the most alluring people he had met in a long time

It was weeks since he saw you, Wilbur nearly gave up searching

That was until you walked into him on a rainy day

The brunette immediately went in defensive position and pulled the stranger to his chest, despite the dampened clothes

"Um, Mr. Soot?"

He looked down to see you and his face lit up

"Y/n! It's a pleasure to see you again."

He took a small step back and kissed your hand

No one can convince me that Wilbur "Gentleman" Soot does not flirt by giving hand kisses

The two went into Pogtopia and Wilbur almost immediately wrapped his coat around you

"What were you doing out there? The rain is coming down so hard you must not have been able to see well."

"I was going to ask if I could borrow a few golden carrots for a potion I'm making."

Wilbur nodded and walked towards the stared and whisper shouted down

"TOMMY BRING ME SOME GOLDEN CARROTS!"

"BUT WILBUR, I-"

"PLEASE DON'T MAKE ME LOOK BAD IN FRONT OF THE STUNNING WITCH!"

The boy at the bottom of the stairs grumbled and the tall man sat next to you once more

After a few minutes of Wilbur fawning over everything you did, a blonde male walked up the steps and glared at Wilbur as he handed you the carrots

"Simp..."

Wilbur dramatically gasped as you chuckled next to him

You eventually started coming over to Pogtopia practically every day

Most of the time it was to see Wilbur, but the rest of your time was spent creating potions for the war

As the nation grew, you were brought out of your shell more with Wilbur introducing you to everyone

He didn't want you to feel uncomfortable in a new place

You often walked along the same riverbank where you met

You have definitely pushed each other off a few times

He keeps small things that you enjoy on him at all times

He keeps a tiny bottle of sand from the river you met at, a piece of your old robe, and so much more in his pockets

Whenever he feels like he's in a dark place or justneeds to ground himself he takes out one of the items and just holds it close.

Mans is so in love

Tommy

He met you in the nether while you were farming netherwart

The blonde was thrilled to find a new fortress and decided to raid it before reinforcements came

Seeing a sleeping figure next to a bed of sould sand, he took a few congident steps forward

Once close enough, he poked you with the stick

"You good?"

"I was good when I was asleep."

"AYE I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD SO-"

After arguing for what felt like hours, you both stormed off to find both exits being blocked by wither skeletons

Tommy had gotten beaten up pretty bad after the fight so you took him back to your hut to get all patched up

"I didn't even need your help. I'm tougher than I look."

"You legitimately passed out twice on the way here."

"HOW DARE YOU, I WAS RESTING MY EYES!"

After a few hours of healing and a ton of laighter, you two became the most chaotic duo in the smp

This british raccoon child would often steal small potions to pull pranks

But unless they were really important and you needed them back, you'd always join in on the pranks

He tried to get you to make a potion using the 'Tubbo Bath Water' one time

It did not end well

At the point in your friendship where you revealed you were a hybrid, Tommy was so confused

"That makes no sense, witches are still humans, right?"

"Yeah..?"

"So how does that make you a hybrid?"

👁👄👁

"Listen here you little shit-"

He likes to show you off to anyone that can listen

"You think you're special? HA! I have a best friend that is part witch and they will kick your ass. >:)"

He is really interested in everything you do but will never ask

But if you tell him about what you're doing unprovoked?

Tommy would get so happy

He is so excited to learn what you have to teach and would be one of the best friends ever

#dream smp x reader #tommyinnit & reader #wilbur x y/n #wilbur x reader #wilbur x you #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x y/n #wilbur soot x you #quackity x you #quackity x y/n #quackity x reader #dream x you #dream x reader #dream x y/n

[dadsbongos]

burn me to the ground

(1)gentle lover (2)burn me to the ground Movie/Game/Show: Thor: Ragnarok Dynamic: Loki Laufeyson/Reader Warnings: ragnarok spoilers?, passing description of you as toned/muscular cuz loki with gf who could crush him >>>, i give more time gap to thor's arrival cuz :), fem pronouns Summary: He’s never been one for such sentiment, maybe that’s why her influence is so terrifying to him. ~~~

“You wanted me to meet someone?”

“Right! Right, right, right,” the Grandmaster waves his hand in a gesture for Topaz to guide his chair through the room, “He was all mumble-y and murmur-ey and I heard your name, so I was thinking maybe you could tell me what this guy’s all about!”

Upon seeing the man in reference, your eyes widen and you nearly stumble back.

The man, however, immediately tilts his head and practically hisses out, “You.”

Well, no point in pretending to not know him now when he reacts like that. Sighing and tossing up your hands as if to show relief, you gush out an awfully whiny, “Aw, prince! Thank goodness you’re okay! I was so worried when we got separated!”

“So, how do you two know each other?” the Grandmaster’s smile is broad, if not slightly threatening, as he waggles a finger between the two people in front of him.

“I’m a sort of guard to your royal asshat.”

Loki doesn’t get the chance to speak up as the Grandmaster claps in response to you, “Well, I’m sure he’ll be happy to know your track record here doesn’t show any signs of slacking!”

“Certainly, yes,” Loki nods curtly, not pleased at the prospect of a Midgardian - this Midgardian - having to watch over him again, “Reassuring to have her here.”

“I would be, look at her- " reaching over, the Grandmaster squeezes at your bicep, “So strong, she’s a great contender!”

“Contender…?” Loki murmurs to the woman, a brow quirked.

Smacking the prince’s arm, you shake your head before turning back to the Grandmaster, “Loki wouldn’t be a very good contender, he’s pretty frail and weak. Lame, too.”

“Aw,” wagging a finger as one would to a pestering child, the Grandmaster’s broad grin falls into a tight-lipped smile before he speaks, “Loyal guard trying to protect her prince, how sweet.”

“What can I say?” Loki notices the way you seem more on edge now, breath shakier, but you manage to mask it as light laughter, “Duties never rest.”

Nodding, the elderly man turns to Topaz, whispering in her ear before dismissing you both back to your quarters.

It’s as the door to the room shuts that Loki is greeted with the first hint of aggression he’s ever seen from you - not even in his time on Earth had he seen malice slip from you like he does now. The door slams and you wring your hands in your hair, nearly shouting as you turn to the God,

“You moron, why’d you have to go and say that? As if you know me? You could’ve gotten us killed.”

“But I do know you,” Loki held his hands up, pausing your rampant pacing, “Was I not supposed to try and find solace in the fact that I was on a new, strange planet with the one person I recognize?”

“You’re such an ass,” it’s a deflated insult, sighed out while you stomp over to the one bed in the room and slump down on it, “Just hope that nutjob believed me about you being weak.”

“Which, I believe we should have a talk about, by the way,” Loki’s brows furrow, “Why do that? I don’t need any protection nor defense, especially by the likes of you.”

“Unless you want to go as a gladiator and potentially be ripped in half by people twice your size, I would just take the label of weakling socialite and run with it. Hope you get on the Grandmaster’s good side like I have and eventually he maybe stops looking at you like a starving man to steak.”

“Haven’t quite gotten to that last bit, I imagine.”

“No, unfortunately not. It’s a little terrifying.”

It’s quiet as you rub at your aching temples and think over the situation. Loki turns and begins assessing the room - a room he hopes to not be stuck in.

“Are we to share this?”

“Probably,” yet another exhausted sigh slips from your lips, “I wouldn’t bother bringing it up to the old man, you might get vaporized.”

There’s a beat of silence before Loki chuckles, it’s forced and tight.

“Oh,” nodding, you lean back until you’re fully reclined on the bed, “you think I’m joking.”

The God’s eyes widen at that, turning to face you in alarm, “Are you not?”

Suddenly sitting up to untie your boots, you mutter, “I’m trying a slow coup. I was gonna do it on my own, but now you’re here so that’s minorly reassuring.”

“Coup?”

“Accident comes to the Grandmaster, we move up. I say we, but if you try and overthrow me for the throne, I will have to duel you. Duel at best, but at worst…”

Another pregnant silence flows through the room, Loki tilting his head, “You do realize how alarming that is when you don’t finish that sentence, right?”

“Good.”

It was an unlucky arrangement. Trapped on a trash planet, literally, with a Midgardian worm - whom he either has to share a bed with or rest on a loveseat for the nights. None of which is even mentioning the Grandmaster.

The Grandmaster.

On the surface he’s light. Bubbly. Fun. And then someone drops a glass too close to his favorite new shoes and suddenly they’ve been pardoned from the land of the living and the stench of wretched toast permeates through the room.

It’s that memory that has Loki tuning out of the story of the man across from him. His hands fall to his thighs and begin rubbing away the sweat of nervousness that gathers there. The movements don’t go unseen, and the woman who assigned herself as his personal guard reaches down and takes his hand. Uncaring if the rest of the party sees as they cling to one another.

You aren’t Loki’s first choice of partnership but maybe that’s where he’d be wrong - because your grip is strong and it won’t let go unless it’s commanded. It’s comforting and reassuring and Loki can’t remember the last time someone held him like that as he breaks down. It isn’t just the hand holding at parties, it’s in the late nights when neither of you can sleep and your heads are too full of countless worries of each’s own home. It’s the way you hold him and don’t say a word of it the next day. Barely acknowledging it unless he brings it up first, not wanting to make him uncomfortable or pressured.

It’s kindness and genuinity and he thinks he wants to have you around all the time. After the Grandmaster. After Hela. Whenever and wherever that dust happens to settle, he knows he wants this comfort all the time.

Storytime comes around to Loki. His fingers curl tighter around your hand as he speaks, occasionally taking a break to sip at his neon drink when there’s a hearty whisper-shout of both your names,

“Over here!”

God of Thunder, you notice. Thor of Asgard. You two excuse yourselves from the couch of socialites to cross the room to Thor.

“Thor? You’re alive?” you begin, eyes wide.

“Of course, I’m alive, what’re you two doing? Why aren’t you stuck in a chair? Where’s your chairs?”

“We didn’t get one,” Loki shakes his head.

“Get me out,” Thor urges, still thoroughly confused over the presence of his brother and old friend.

“We can’t,” you whisper.

Nodding, Loki continues, “We’ve gotten in favor with the Grandmaster. In his higher courts.”

“Like friends but scary,” you pitch in, “We’ve been here a few weeks. Maybe a month.”

“A month?" Thor repeats in utter disbelief, "I just got here.”

“What’re you guys whispering about?” the Grandmaster himself juts into the conversation with a giggle, “Time works different around these parts. On any other world I’d be like millions of years old, but on Sakaar…” he stops and looks between the trio with a teasing grin before shaking his head, “In any case, you two know this… what’d you call yourself - Lord of Thunder…?”

“God of Thunder,” Thor corrects with a forced chuckle.

“I’ve never met this man in my life,” Loki immediately denies.

“He’s my brother.”

Rolling your eyes at the brothers, you’re quick to gesture to Loki, “Adopted.”

The Grandmaster nods, “He any kind of a fighter?”

“You take this thing out of my neck and I’ll show you.”

That’s how they find out that - at the very least, Thor’s alive. Not well, but certainly alive.

The night after that party is mostly quiet in the room. Presently, both people are getting ready for bed but inside their minds is such fueled turmoil that neither truly believes they’re getting rest that night. Upon finishing his state of dress, Loki makes his way out to the balcony.

Air on Sakaar isn’t particularly fresh or clean, nor are the stars incredibly visible with all the city lights, but it felt better out there than being trapped in a room. He’s soon joined by another body at the railing, hands barely brushing together on the roughened metal.

It’s Loki that makes the first move, slowly sliding his hand across the rail until his entwined with yours. Your fingers weave together and Loki can’t help but balance his gaze between your conjoined hands and your eyes. He remembers a time where he used to look into those eyes and see an enemy - now, he can’t imagine a time where he would’ve ever wanted to hurt someone such as you. Can't believe there was a time where he wanted to hurt you. Your care is expressed in tender touches and loyalty. In quiet moments of trust and earnest adoration. In honesty. It's that silent care that speaks the loudest.

It’s your voice that breaks him from his own thoughts, “When this whole thing is over and Sakaar is ruined and Thor will have the throne, where will you go?”

Loki falls silent at that question, he brushes a thumb over your knuckles, pursing his lips and tilting his head as he thinks over what response would fit best. Then he comes to the realization that it wouldn’t matter where he lies as long as he has comfort that lies with him. Comfort that sleeps inside the woman beside him is what he wants.

And so, he mumbles out, “Where will you want me?”

There’s a laugh pulled from you as your head shakes, “You wouldn’t want to go to Earth. Unless you’d like the Avengers up your ass.”

There’s a shared laugh as Loki relents, speaking before laying a kiss to your knuckles, “I wouldn’t be fond of that… but for you, my dear, I’d tear the universe apart.”

“That sounds like exactly why they wouldn’t want you. Sorry to say they’re not fond of universe-tearing.”

A sarcastic huff falls from the prince, “I’m charming and romantic and this is how I’m repaid?”

“However, I can’t say that’s not excellent bargaining to keep you on a leash,” you grin.

“Like a dog?”

“Well, now,” looking away, your lip is tucked between your teeth to muffle possible laughter.

Loki doesn’t follow your example, instead he studies the planes of your face. The curve of your cheek and the way your eyes are lit up by the stars and lights that flow in this city. You’re beautiful. That, he knows. And despite being trapped on Sakaar, he also knows he’s grateful to have someone like you. To have you.

Strong, both in emotional resolve and psychical capability. It’s nice to have someone who can stay level-header and offer support. It makes him want to care and provide for you as well, and that’s what scares him.

You make him want to return sentiment when all he’s cared for before was letting things burn.

#loki x reader #loki x y/n #loki x you #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson x you #loki fanfic

[scapegrace74-blog]

Ginger Snap, Chapter 4

A/N  Here’s the next chapter installment of Ginger Snap.  I now have this story mentally plotted to its conclusion.  It will have a total of 6 chapters, with perhaps a wee epilogue.  In keeping with the theme, the title of this chapter is “Where There’s Smoke”.

Previous chapters are best enjoyed on my AO3 page, because I have a bad habit of going back and editing them after they’ve been posted.

I glanced around the sitting room, trying to see it through a stranger’s eyes.  Well, not a stranger.  Through Jamie’s eyes.

We had sold most of our furniture before leaving Boston, not considering it worth the expense of shipping across the Atlantic.  Frank hired an interior decorating firm to furnish the third floor Southside flat before we arrived.  The overall impression was stylish, if a bit soulless.  Having grown up a virtual nomad, there were no mementos or heirlooms to speak for my personal journey.  For the first time, I regretted their absence.

The buzzer rang, and I shook away my wistfulness.  Jamie’s tousled curls and reckless grin greeted me as I opened the door.  Today he wore a fitted navy jumper, faded grey jeans with frays about the ankles and the ubiquitous work boots.  A messenger bag was slung across his broad chest.  

“I hope I wasn’t supposed to supply the ingredients for today’s lesson, because my cupboards are bare,” I remarked after inviting him in.

“Jus’ as well.  I wouldna squander yer food.  I have all we need right here.”  Reaching into his bag, he removed a clear container filled with chunks of pink meat swimming in a broth of blood.  I wrinkled my nose in disgust.

“What sort of dish will I be making with those?”

Those summer eyes shone in merry provocation.

“No’ a dish, Arsonist.  An experiment.”  

Two saucepans were set on the stove.  Jamie had me place a few pieces of meat into the water of one pot before it warmed.  To the other I added a pinch of salt and a clove of garlic, but waited until it came to a boil before adding the chicken.  After five minutes, I used tongs to move the now-pale flesh to waiting salad plates.  Neither looked particularly appetizing, but the first pot yielded a glutinous blob.

“I suppose this is the control group,” I remarked, looking at Jamie where he leaned against my countertop, ankles crossed like a cover model.  “I’m already quite familiar with what culinary failure looks like, thank you.”

“No’ failure.  Variability,” my teacher argued.  “See here?  If ye want meat tae dissolve til it doesna hold its texture, low heat is key.  An’ if ye want tae infuse it with flavour, always combine heat an’ seasoning at the same time.”

I took a small nibble of chicken from the second pot, and sure enough it tasted mildly of garlic.  It was otherwise quite bland, though.  When I commented on this, Jamie nodded in excitement.

“Aye, verra good.  Nature seeks equilibrium, as ye well know.  Sae now ye have poultry tha’ tastes o’ water and water tha’ tastes o’ chicken.  If ye were makin’ a stew or chicken stock, t’would be a good thing.  Fer anything else, tis shite.”

I laughed, getting into the spirit of his well-executed game.

“Have ye any music?” he asked while we cleared away the results of round one.  “I always cook better with a bit o’ background noise.”

There was a high-end stereo system in the living room, but I doubted Jamie would be interested in Frank’s collection of Brahms, Mahler and Celtic harp.  Seeing my hesitation, Jamie dug out a portable speaker from his bag.

“Do ye mind?”  I shook my head and soon my kitchen hummed with guitar chords and plangent vocals.

The lesson lasted far longer than the scheduled hour.  Jamie had me bake, fry, roast and braise different samples, each time explaining why a particular technique might be used and insisting I taste the result.  It was so much fun, I shed my habitual reticence while cooking.

“An’ now fer the pièce de résistance,” Jamie announced in dramatic tones.  From his seemingly bottomless messenger bag he removed what appeared to be a miniature flame thrower.

“What the fuck is that?” I asked, forgetting myself.

“I wanted ye tae ken there’s a place fer fire in the kitchen, Arsonist.  Tis only a question of picking yer moment.”

With a flick of his lighter, he set the butane alight and handed me the small kitchen torch.  Using extreme caution, I seared the outside of the two remaining morsels until they were a rich caramel colour.  Jamie then wrapped them in foil, placing them in the oven to finish cooking.  When they were cool enough to sample, the outside was pleasingly crunchy and sweet, while the inside swam in moist chicken-y flavour.  We both declared them the winner.

“Tis a funny thing about fire,” Jamie remarked as he packed up his bag to leave by the more conventional front door route.  “It can remain hidden beneath the surface, burying its secrets deep inside.  Doesna mean it doesn’t burn, though.”

I thought about what he’d said long after he was gone, leaving me alone with his signature scent of rising bread and salt air.

That weekend, I blamed the poor weather when I declined Frank’s offer to shop for an engagement ring.

***

The next week, instead of asking to be buzzed inside, Jamie requested that I join him downstairs.

Grabbing a Mackintosh, my purse and slipping into comfortable walking shoes, I joined Jamie outside my door.  He was particularly animated, despite the foul weather.

“We should ha’ started wi’ this lesson, but t’wasn’t the right day fer it,” he explained as we walked towards the farmers’ market that took place twice a week in the shadow of Castle Hill.

I considered protesting that I already knew how to shop for food, but Jamie’s enthusiasm was contagious.

We stopped at every stall, sampling the foodstuff on display, which was surprisingly varied despite it being November.  Jamie knew most of the merchants by name and our progress was regularly halted by conversations on topics as varied as his family’s health, the latest rugby results and Scottish politics.  I envied his wide circle of acquaintance and apparent ease interacting with them.  There was no pretense, no stiffness, just a man who inhabited every square centimetre of his life to the fullest.

Jamie insisted that I taste various produce before adding it to the cloth bag he’d provided.  Honey-crisp apples.  Peppery radishes.  Herb-infused venison sausage.  

“Close yer eyes,” he instructed when I was practically dizzy with all the flavours.  Still, I complied immediately.  A rubbery moisture tickled my lips.  “Open,” he said simply.  I opened.  “Tell me what ye taste, Arsonist.”

I chewed the morsel of cheese thoughtfully, letting the taste and texture coat my mouth before finally swallowing.

“Creamy.  Thick.  Salty.  Sorrel.”

I opened my eyes only to fall into the inky vortex of Jamie’s pupils, which had expanded to almost eclipse his irises.  His hand still hovered near my mouth, muscles frozen in abstraction.  The cheesemonger let out an awkward little cough.  Jamie blinked, and the moment vanished.

“Sorrel?” he asked a bit gruffly.

“Yer lass has a fine palate, Fraser.  My sheep graze in fields full o’ it.”

I allowed myself a smug little smile.  Neither of us corrected the merchant’s presumptive pronoun.

Later that evening, I sat cross-legged before the fire with a picnic for one.  Frank had called from his office earlier to say he was working on notes for an upcoming symposium.  Before me lay the results of the afternoon’s market adventure.  Closing my eyes as I ate,  every mouthful set my senses ablaze.

We never found time to visit the jeweler that weekend either.

***

The next week, I fell ill with a miserable head cold.   Frank was in Oxford for his symposium, so I called Ginger Snap myself and explained to Jenny in a hoarse voice that Jamie should avoid coming to my flat at all costs.

I was curled up in a mentholated daze when there was a series of knocks.  It took several minutes to free myself from my blanket cocoon and shuffle to the front door.  Glancing in the entryway mirror, my hair called to mind an electrified poodle and my nose was twelve shades of raw, but I opened the door anyway.  No-one was there.  Leaning out to peer down the hallway, I practically tripped over a brown paper bag resting at my feet.

Inside was a metal thermos, still quite warm to the touch.  As I unscrewed the cap, my stuffed nose was assailed by fragrant steam.  Homemade cock-a-leekie soup.  I felt a glow fill my chest that had nothing to do with my fever.  Pouring a helping into a mug, I shuffled back to my couch-nest.  I felt better already.

***

The following week, Jamie was distracted.  I’d thanked him profusely for the soup, and asked if he could show me how to make it for myself.  As the chicken thighs and stock began to warm, however, I caught him glancing regularly at his phone, fingers drumming against his thigh.

“Are you expecting an important text?” I finally asked.

“Hmm?  Och, Arsonist, I’m verra sorry.  Tis only that we got a last-minute request tae cater a big corporate Christmas party, an’ Jenny is beside herself wi’ worrying.”  He tucked him phone into the pocket of his cargo pants.

“When’s the party?”

“T’morrow,” he confessed.

“What!  Jamie, what are you doing here?  You should have called me to reschedule.”

“T’wouldna be fair, what wi’ us missing last week on account of yer sniffles.  An’ wi’ Christmas ‘round the corner, I didna ken when I’d... er, when we’d have time for another lesson.”

I turned off the burner with a decisive twist.  Jamie opened his mouth to lodge a protest, but I beat him to the punch.

“Jamie, the soup will keep.  Growing your business is more important. I wish there was something more I could do to help, but under the circumstances...”

“Come wi’ me?” he blurted out.

I was nodding before the words finished leaving his mouth.  Notwithstanding the fact that he had just literally been teaching me how to boil water, I didn’t want to lose his company so soon.   We likely wouldn’t see one another again until after the New Year.

It was a thirty minute walk to Leith.  Jamie could probably have covered the distance in half that with his long strides, were it not for me trotting along beside him.  We stopped at several shops along the way to pick up provisions, arriving at Ginger Snap with our arms laden with the freshest food Edinburgh had to offer.

I had expected Jenny and Jamie to be working alone, but the fire station was abuzz with activity.  I was hastily introduced to Angus, a distant Fraser cousin; Mary, a childhood friend of Jenny’s; and Murtagh, Jamie and Jenny’s godfather.  They worked together like a well-oiled machine, and I stood awkwardly to one side, wondering what the hell I was doing there.  I was preparing to make my excuses when Jamie called me over to a spare station.  He gestured to the commercial-sized sink, which was full of vegetables of every dimension and colour.

“Claire, I need ye tae rinse and then cut these inta nice even pieces.  Can ye do tha’ fer me?”

"Consider it done, chef,” I said with a jaunty salute.

There was a feeling of camaraderie as we each went about our assigned tasks.  I chopped.  Mary baked.  Angus filleted.  Jamie cooked, and Jenny plated the various canapés, salads and sauces and stored them in the enormous refrigerators that lined the back wall.    Murtagh’s role seemed mostly to keep the troops in line with an assortment of verbal barbs. 

Music played in the background.  Volleys of witty banter flowed between us, but never at the expense of the work or anyone’s feelings.  Angus nicked himself with his filleting knife, and Jenny sent him to my station for treatment, saying I was the team’s resident doctor.  I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so at home.

Time passed quickly and before I knew it, it was dark outside.  The bulk of the work was done and the pace slackened, the pressure of the looming deadline relieved.  One by one we cleared our stations, meeting at the small seating area to share a well-earned drink.

Jenny sunk into the couch beside me and let out a loud sigh.

“Ouf, I canna believe we got it all done.  Claire, ye were a godsend.  Normally I do most o’ the prep work, but it leaves me no time tae arrange the dishes.”

I demurred, uncomfortable with the praise.

“Nay, Arsonist, ye were amazing,” Jamie began to object, but he was interrupted by my phone buzzing.  Glancing down, I felt my face fall.   I’d completely forgotten about Frank.  Now he was texting, asking me where I was.  I quickly fired off a reply, then stuffed the phone into my pocket.

“Everything alright?” Jenny asked.

“Oh, yes.  It’s only my fiancé, asking when I might be home,” I answered, still distracted by my uncharacteristic lapse.  As I glanced up, I ran straight into Jamie’s iceberg gaze.

“I didna realize ye were engaged,” he looked pointedly at my bare ring finger.  “Congratulations.”  

He said the word as though every syllable pained him.  I quelled the urge to explain, to say it wasn’t a real engagement because I’d never agreed, that I’d only been looking for a sense of security, but somehow found myself in a cage.

Instead I hastily finished my drink, called myself an Uber and quietly wished everyone a good night, all while avoiding the many questions written across Jamie’s expressive face.

#my writing #outlander #ginger snap

[the-real-slim-shady]

Transgender and Non-Binary People: The Facts and Science Behind Them

I wrote this essay a while ago, after I had an argument with my mom about transgender people, and I figured I'd share it, it’s really long, so feel free to just skim it and find the important parts lol.

    In recent years, gender issues have become much more prevalent in our society. People who are transgender and non-binary finally feel comfortable being who they are, but there are still people who think transgender and non-binary people don’t exist. Some believe that they’re just seeking attention, or that all of their problems could be solved with therapy. This is a tricky topic because it is hard to scientifically prove how a person feels in their body.

    People usually think of the words “sex” and “gender” as interchangable, but this is in fact incorrect. In general terms, the word “sex” refers to the biological differences between men and women, such as the genitalia and genetic differences. “Gender” is more ambiguous, and harder to define. Gender usually refers to the role of a man and woman in society or an individual’s concept of themselves. To put it simply, sex is in the body, gender is in the mind. Sometimes a person’s genetically assigned sex does not line up with their gender. These individuals usually refer to themselves as transgender, non-binary, or genderfluid.

    We all learn in middle school that the last pair of chromosomes we have determines our sex. XX for a woman and XY for a man. Sex, however, is not that simple. The male/female split is often seen as a man-or-woman binary, but this is not entirely true. Some men are born with two or three X chromosomes as well as a Y, and some women are born with a Y chromosome. In some cases, a child is born with a mix between male and female genitalia. This is sometimes deemed intersex, and parents can decide which gender to assign to the child, but sometimes the child feels neither male nor female or disagrees with their parents’ decision. A person can be female if they have an X and Y chromosome but they are insensitive to androgens, so they have a female body. A person can have an X and Y chromosome and have a female body because their Y is missing the SRY gene. A person can have two X chromosomes and have a male body because one of their X’s has a SRY gene. A person can be female because they only have one X chromosome. A person can be male because they have two X chromosomes and one Y. A person can be male because you have two X chromosomes but your heart and brain are male and a person can be female with an X and a Y because their heart and mind feel stuck inside the wrong body.

    Most people’s sex and gender line up. The expectation that if you’re assigned a male at birth, you’re a man, and you’re assigned female at birth you’re a woman, lines up for people who are cisgender. But for people who are transgender or non-binary, the sex they’re assigned at birth may not align with the gender they know themselves to be. The concepts of gender and sex are socially constructed. We as a society assign gender and sex based on socially agreed upon characteristics. Dresses, the color pink, makeup, long hair, painted nails, and high heels belong to women, but we have seen in the past that this wasn’t always true, and as time goes on, the gendering of the aforementioned products is fading. This doesn’t mean that body parts and functions are “made up”, it just means that we categorize and define things in ways that could actually be different.

    The transgender and non-binary identity has long been associated with poor mental health and trauma that can be “cured” by therapy. Science however, says otherwise. Transgender women tend to have brain structures that resemble cisgender women rather than cisgender men. The bed nucleus of the stria terminalis (BSTc) in transgender women is more similar to cisgender women than cisgender men, and the BSTc in transgender men more closely resembles that of a cisgender man. Science tells us that gender is not binary, it may even be a linear spectrum. Like other facets of identity, it can operate on a large range of levels and operate outside of many definitions. Transgender and non binary individuals are not suffering from a mental illness or carefully “choosing” a different identity. The transgender and non-binary identity is multi dimensional, but it deserves no less respect or recognition than any other facet of humankind.

    It is essential to understand the difference between transgender people and non binary people. Transgender people feel like their assigned sex is wrong, and therefore change their gender and sometimes undergo surgery. Non-binary and genderqueer people identify themselves with neither an exclusively male or female gender, their gender identity is beyond the gender binary, sometimes fluctuates between genders, or rejects the gender binary. People who are genderqueer or genderfluid alternate between genders. Kind of like a craving for food, one day they will feel like one gender and wish to be addressed as such, and maybe in a day or a week they’ll feel like another gender and some days they will feel like no gender at all. This may seem to some people like they should just make up their minds, but trust me, if they could they would. Non binary people, however, feel like no gender, and will always feel like they belong outside the gender binary. Science has yet to provide an insight into the non-binary identity and whether there’s any scientific basis to them.

    Some people say that transgender and non binary individuals are just feeling gender dysphoria, and they can overcome it. Gender dysphoria is actually just a name for how transgender and onbinary people feel before they come out: feeling that your emotional or psychological identiy as male or female to be opposite to your biological sex. Gender dysphoria is a strong desire to be rid of your sex characteristics because you feel like they don’t belong to you. It is a strong desire for the sex characteristics of the other gender, or no sex charecteristics at all. It is a strong desire to be treated as another gender. It is a strong conviction that you are not the gender you were born as.

    Some people believe that gender dysphoria for transgender and non-binary people can be solved by therapy. However, researchers analyzed survey responses from more than 27,000 transgender adults accross the US with a roughly even mix of transgender women and transgender men. People who had undergone conversion therapy at some point in their lives were twice as likely to have attempted suicide than someone who had not. About 70% said they had talked to a professional at some point about their gender identity and of those 70%, 20% had undergone conversion therapy. All of the aforementioned people are still transgender.

    In addition, many medical associations and academies have spoken out against conversion therapy. The American Academy of Child and Adolescent Psychiatry “finds no evidence to support the application of any “therapeutic intervention” operating under the premise that a specific sexual orientation, gender identity, and/or gender expression is pathological. Furthermore, based on the scientific evidence, the AACAP asserts that such ‘conversion therapies’ lack scientific credibility and clinical utility. Additionally, there is evidence that such interventions are harmful. As a result, ‘conversion therapies’ should not be part of any behavioral health treatment of children and adolescents."

    The American Academy of Pediatrics says “"Confusion about sexual orientation is not unusual during adolescence. Counseling may be helpful for young people who are uncertain about their sexual orientation or for those who are uncertain about how to express their sexuality and might profit from an attempt at clarification through a counseling or psychotherapeutic initiative. Therapy directed specifically at changing sexual orientation is contraindicated, since it can provoke guilt and anxiety while having little or no potential for achieving changes in orientation."

    Since the beginnning of the non-binary movement, it has gathered skepticism, critisism, derision, and even violence. Many non-binary people (and transgender people too) are accused of being “special snowflakes” or “drama queens” and “attention whores”. However, this criticism ignores the fact that gender identity is largely personal. In addition, something as simple as the way you wish to be identified tends to cause hatred to be sent your way. There is little critisim towards non-binary people that can be directed towards them in a constructive matter. If a non-binary person is in fact “just doing it for attention” the name calling and hatred would just be feeding into their desire for attention and giving them exactly what they want!

    Finally, if exploring your gender identity is a “trend” as some have called it, then isn’t it better than the previous trend of feeling isolated and alone and having absolutely no way to be who you are and say what you feel? In light of the current lack of any scientific evidence as to the biological nature of non-binary transsexuality, it is best to act in the same way as any situation where there is a phenomenon yet to be proven by science: doubt, skepticism, and open-mindedness, which accepts the potential for truth, but does not assume it.

    Some people are against the idea of calling a transgender or non-binary person their chosen pronouns because they disagree with the way that said person identifies themselves, and they reserve the right to their freedom of speech. Dr. Jordan Peterson is one of these people.

    Dr. Peterson is a psychology professor at the University of Toronto. He released a video lecture series taking aim at political correctness. He was frustrated with being asked to use alternative pronouns requested by trans and non-binary students and staff. “I’ve studied authoritarianism for a very long time, for forty years,” Dr Peterson told the BBC. “It starts by people’s attempts to control the ideological and linguistic territory. There’s no chance I’m going to use words made up by people who are doing that, not a chance.” Dr Peterson is concerned proposed federal human rights legislation will elevate his refusal to use alternative pronouns into hate speech. There is currently a bill in Canada that prohibits discrimination under the Canadian Human Rights Act on the basis of gender identity and expression. Under this bill, Dr. Peterson is not guilty of hate speech, but he could face sanction under Ontario’s human rights code which extended protection to trans people in 2012.

    Conservatives like Dr. Peterson have conjured up images of good people being dragged off to jail for not calling a person by their chosen pronouns. To the contrary, as legal scholars like Brenda Cossman and Kyle Kirkup have patiently explained, the bill in Canada cannot lead to anything remotely like this. But the milk has been spilled, and rants have been recorded, and the subtext is that there is a segment of society accustomed to others accommodating their freedom but not the other way around.

    Some people are confused as to why calling someone by their chosen pronouns constitutes as human rights, but I am confused about something else: In what kind of society does the question of whether we should respect people provoke a major debate? In what kind of society does the sentiment “you can’t make me” constitute a compelling argument?

    In conclusion, there’s no reason to discriminate against non-binary people or transgender people because contrary to the popular belief, you’re not being morally or intellectually superior, you’re just being rude. Use their prefered name and pronouns. I promise it won’t kill you.

#transgender #non binary #social issues #transgender essay #non binary essay #LGBTQ rights

[bearsfakedthemoonlanding]

Work Safety

It is very neat to feel safe at work.

[Content warning: mild transphobia, misunderstanding, and internalized transphobia. Mentions of the Supreme Court.]

Context: A little over a month ago, I moved from my hometown in the midwest to New Orleans, LA.  I knew I loved the city from past visits, but I didn’t actually know what I was getting into.  Two days into being here, I walked into a small grocery store and applied for a job.  I’ve been there now for three weeks.

There is a lesson here in allyship, and in living your truth loudly enough that other people grab your wavelength.  On my second day of training, I’d spent enough time with my coworker to figure he was safe.  He’s well over six feet tall, built like a mountain, hands big enough to grab whole sealed meats from the deli case one-handed without dropping them.  He’s also incredibly friendly, very outgoing, and he has the voice. 

When I told him my pronouns, he jumped right on it and asked if it was okay to spread the word around.  I agreed.  I was excited by his support and help here (I’d gotten that sort of support from my college roommates, but never from anyone else, and I figured they were sort of a fluke in that regard.  The kind of perks you get from found family, not from strangers). 

But the next day I notice other people making the effort, stumbling occasionally, but correcting themselves.  Which has never happened before.

And a few days later, when someone messes up and doesn’t notice, I somehow find the guts to speak up.  They say something along the lines of “SHE’ll help you out--”  and I go to help, of course, but also chime in an audible, “THEY. But yes.” 

Anytime I corrected pronouns in front of my parents, my mother would roll her eyes and go off about how I was her little girl, and I can’t expect my family to just change their view of me like that, I can’t expect them to change their language, just let it go, they’re family.  I have an otherwise good relationship with my mother, so I never pushed too hard.  Besides brief rants from my father about “the way God made us” and “there’s only two genders” and “taking it out of God’s hands” I never heard much from him, but I knew his opinions.  My grandmother would claim support, but would also corner me to whisper about how “nobody ACTUALLY wants to be a woman, you just have to pretend,” and would go off on screaming homophobic rants when she was drunk.  Never told her I was a lesbian, or bisexual, or anything.  She’ll find out I’m trans when there’s no more hiding it.

So those were the responses I was used to.  At my last job, as a nurse’s aide in an old folks home, any mention of pronouns or corrections at all were met with a chuckled, “Oh right, my bad, of course,” but my coworkers were far too busy with other things to remember beyond the conversation.  The few who did would persistently get my pronouns wrong, saying things like, “Don’t call [Name] a girl, she’s a THEY.”  As if they were a noun all to itself, a new way of being a person.  Like how they used to say “she’s a he-she” “she’s a queer” “she’s a butch” turning something into a descriptor where it doesn’t belong, making you feel a bit... odd.  Even if queer or butch or they are ways you describe yourself, when someone takes your word and frames it that way around you, you still feel off. 

But that doesn’t happen here.  Coworkers here, even supervisors, say, “Right, I’m sorry,” and correct it.  Every time.  

I wasn’t expecting the chef I worked for to give two singular fucks about my pronouns, let alone about me.  I expected a chef to be like a nurse-- busy, superior, a bit callous and with a hundred more important things to care about than what I had to say.  I just wipe the butts/chop the vegetables/scrub the dishes.  Who cares what kind of gender-freak I am while I do it, so long as I get my job done.  Who cares what they call me.  They don’t owe me anything, right? 

But he’s gone out of his way to be careful about it.  Correcting pronouns, every time, and he’s told me twice now that he’s “really trying to pay attention to it, and to let other people know too” and he “doesn’t want to slip up.”  This is a mid-forties rocker dude who wears bandanas and cargo shorts and signs along badly to the Beasty Boys.  Past experience has taught me not to trust these men.  He’s changing his mind. 

And maybe I’m feeling a little burgeoned by the Supreme Court’s decision, even though I know it’s rather arbitrary.  A friend of mine has been working in the factories back home since he finished high school, and any time words gotten out that He’s not just a butch woman, he’s been out the door by the end of the week.  If they can’t fire you for being trans, they’ll come up with another excuse. 

Regardless, I’ve been feeling brave.  Maybe it’s the testosterone.  Maybe it’s the camaraderie.  Maybe it’s my girlfriend’s support, or the Supreme Court, or the uprisings, or nine hundred miles between me and my parents--

But yesterday, when a coworker slipped up with the “he/she/they” situation for at least the fifth time that day, I laughed loudly and yelled, “She?  Just you wait till I grow a beard, then you’ll stop with this SHE business!” 

And they laughed.  And the chef added, “Yeah, or the voice drop,” because I’ve mentioned it several times before.  I’m just so excited for these new changes, excited to be put together correctly, excited for less people to fuck up about me.  And I don’t want to drive my girlfriend crazy talking about it, so I gush at my coworkers, explaining the voice drop, the facial hair (maybe), the masculinization, the fact that a lot of things will be underway at the five month mark, which is conveniently right in time for Christmas (God help us). 

What I’m saying here is that things are good, and this city is good.  I didn’t think it would make such a difference.  I spent so much time around people who thought I was some sort of defect or odd-ball or attention seeker that I started to believe them, and to be treated like a normal person?  To say something and have people listen?  To be given respect? 

I almost can’t believe it’s possible.

#trans masc #trans masculine #trans boy #transgender #trans #lgbt #queer #nonbinary

[joonietonin]

Ethan Ramsey's Character Development:

Something that I'm really impressed with from today's chapter is Ethan's character development. I think it's one of the best character buildings in all of the Choices stories. Let's discuss.

In an earlier post about a month ago, I mentioned Ethan's characteristics. A serious, brooding, handsome doctor. Much senior to MC and the other interns. Has no real family. The closest person he'd call as family is probably Naveen followed by his dog Jenner. Has been a lone wolf since time immemorial. The only stable romantic relationship he ever had was an on again, off again fling which saw its closure when Harper became chief. He has never had anybody take care of him, so much that he does not expect anything remotely caring from even the closest of friends. Then comes, MC (my MC is female, pronouns: she/her) , slowly but surely she breaks Ethan's steel walls and gets to know him. It did take a lot of effort for MC to really get to know Ethan because Ethan right here, is a tough nut, won't crack easily. But with a lot of patience, admiration and of course, love, MC broke the walls Ethan thought were unbreakable. Then again, it would be wrong to give MC all credit because Ethan Ramsey, the grumpy asshole who wouldn't think twice before getting angry at an intern, didn't just magically fall head over heels for this one wide eyed intern right? He opened up to her because at one point, MC was the only person Ethan could even claim as a friend. MC went beyond the books to treat her patients and that is why Ethan always found MC to be an extraordinary doctor. But more than that, MC was always there for Ethan. Even during the times when he wasn't there for her, she held onto him. Ethan still cannot figure out how she did it. How can a person have so much faith in him when he himself has lost all hope? That part of her will perhaps always be a mystery to him. But what's beautiful is that Ethan finally realises that he isn't alone and that MC wants to be there for him even if he doesn't need someone to care for him.

I love how Ethan says,"I don't need you to take care of me, MC." It's almost as if he's giving her that one free pass to leave him and walk away just like most other people in his life have. What's beautiful is that once MC says,"No? But it sure looks like you do." - he doesn't shut her down. No witty remark or a rude gesture to tell her that's she's wrong and that he, in fact, does not need her to take care of him. This scene mirrors the time in the hospital when Ethan found out Naveen was really dying and closed the door on MC and shut her away from him. That scene in the one of the previous chapters, clearly helps us see how far Ethan has come. From shutting her away to finally accepting that she's here to stay and even though he won't straight up admit it, he likes, no, loves her presence in his life. His words and actions mimic his feelings. "Well.. if it's the doctor's orders." Him leaning in to MC's touch and relishing it but never once telling her to stop or go away, unlike the other times in the past where he does give into her touch but let's her go after a point. As MC says, "Let me take care of you.." the amount of reverence in her words melts his heart. Here's where we see a completely new side of Ethan. The side that finally knows better than to push MC away. The side that accepts the fact that there is someone who willingly cares for him and that he would do anything to keep her in his life. Accepting defeat is hard for Ethan, but he does not see this as a defeat of his willpower, he sees this as a new chapter in his life where rather than struggling and pushing people away, he let's them care for him. It's hard for him to accept that love and care but it's beautiful that he's trying. "Well.. if you insist." No comebacks, no retorts, no 'i don't need your care', but one 4 words that convey that he does need her and he's ready to open up to her. Ethan J Ramsey, the first time in 36 years, does not feel defeated by someone breaking his walls down, he feels liberated because he knows that the person who broke those walls down will be there for him no matter what.

Next up, is the scene where MC concocts her secret miracle hangover cure. Now, even a few chapters ago, Ethan wouldn't have dared to try something like that. He would've passed a few snarky remarks and refused to accept whatever weird concoction MC created. But now, Ethan is open to her and the possibilities that come along as he (kind of?) pursues a relationship with MC (I know nothing is official but come on, they're straight up married lmao) His snarky remarks are back but he watches with wonder as MC mixes, well, my MC mixed coffee with apples and ghost peppers and he was shocked to say the least. Yet what really made me smile was he poured a little for MC saying,"You're going on this journey with me. Bottoms up." Now, I'm not one for reaching but Ethan's statement is almost a foreshadowing of him letting his guard down in front of MC. It's as if he let's her know that they're in this together from now on whether it includes drinking an abomination of a hangover cure or saving his mentor from a deadly bacterial infection. His statement may seem assertive but it actually has a lot of meaning attached to it, if we dig a little deeper. Again, character development at it's finest.

Next, let's talk about the scene where he looks at the picture of Naveen and feels like he can't face his mentor again. He thinks he gave up on his mentor during a time of need. Forgiveness has always been a complicated concept to Ethan. Forgiving others is hard for him but what's even harder is forgiving himself. This scene was really meaningful because no matter which option your MC selects to comfort him, MC does it with a certain level of calmness but there's no sugarcoating. "Forgive yourself...or don't. It's doesn't matter. What matters is that your friend needs you. Forgiveness can wait." And that's exactly what Ethan needed. He did not need anybody to sugarcoat it to him and tell him to forgive himself. He needed someone to make him realise that he still had time to set things right and that there were bigger things in question than him forgiving himself. That's how MC is different from the regular people.. people who would've jumped at the opportunity to suck up to Ethan. But, not MC. That's what makes her different. She gives it to him as it is but she does it with care and comfort.

Then, there's the kiss. When MC kisses him, he questions her, "What was that for?" "For luck.",she says. Absolutely thrilling to see that Ethan, for the first time, chooses to be the one who asks for more, rather, takes his share of more. Ethan lets her know,"In that case, to pull this off, I'm gonna need a lot more luck." He kisses her fervently, again and again, letting her know that he wants this and he isn't afraid of asking what he wants anymore. Another interaction that completely made me smile like an idiot was where Ethan says, "I would apologize but.. I can't say I'm sorry for that." Much unlike his previous behaviour where he would not dare to act on his feelings and even if he did he'd write it off as a mistake. But now, he feels different. He isn't sorry for asking what he wants and getting it. Poetic cinema. 😏💯 Also, the scene where he tells MC not to tell anything about them to Naveen and MC thinks it's because he's embarrassed of her, but then he corrects her,"Nothing of that sort.. I just don't want to give the man the satisfaction of knowing he was right about us." I giggled! He's honestly so in love (too soon? Nah, I don't think so) and to think he's actually accepting the fact that he does like MC a lot, like Naveen had predicted! I love one (1) married couple. :') ❤️

Lastly, I'll quickly analyse the scene where MC hugs Ethan from behind and let's him know that he's "Ethan freaking Ramsey." What's monumental in this scene is that Ethan (FINALLY) let's her know his middle name. "Jonah. My middle name. Ethan Jonah Ramsey. But I guess, freaking works too." This scene might seem like a fun comic relief but it's actually so beautiful considering the fact that MC has always been someone curious to know more about Ethan and in the past it has always been her pushing answers out of Ethan, be it testing out the new fMRI machine or going to retrieve a little frog soft toy or hanging out at a cafe.. it's always MC who asks the questions and Ethan responds to them even if he isn't very comfortable at sharing those parts of his life. But this scene right here is so meaningful because this time around, Ethan slips a detail about himself on his own. He wants MC to know him, every little part of him. :') ❤️

Last but not the least, Ethan being there for MC for her trial. He knows that MC has many friends who are in all support of her. He knows that even if he didn't show up and stayed to take care of Naveen, MC wouldn't question a thing. But he promised her that he'd be there. "Do you want me there?" "Yes." "Then I'll be there." He promised her last chapter that he'd be there and there he was. He knew she had plenty of people to take care of her but he also wanted her to know that he was there for her too, just like she was for him. And he wasn't going anywhere. Him telling MC to stay strong and have faith is such a beautiful parallel considering it was MC who told him the same thing just a few hours ago. And most importantly, like I said, Ethan Ramsey would never sit in peace knowing he could do something to avoid MC's possible license suspension. "I might not be able to testify for you.. but believe me, I'm not out of tricks, either." Like I had said in an earlier post, Ethan will have a big role to play in MC's trial. It will be interesting to see how the finale unfolds. I think MC won't lose her license. But that's for next week. For now, let's just relish the fact that Dr. Ethan Jonah Ramsey is changing and this is one change that I'm so very happy with! :')

P.S.- He's also already head over heels in love with MC and they're a whole ass married couple, I won't take no for an answer. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk. ;)

#playchoices #open heart #choices #pixelberry #ethan ramsey #dr ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #mc x ethan ramsey #he's in love with mc #and thats the tea

[hms-chill]

Hey! I absolutely love your writing and saw you wanted a prompt or two. I found this one and it would be adorable with Alex and Henry so here: “You sat next to me on the airplane and fell asleep on my shoulder and I don’t want to move you cause you look so comfortable. Oh and you’re hot.” (if you want to write it of course but you totally don't have to I just thought it would be cute) 💕💕💕

Hello! Thank you so much! It’s been like a week but I just turned in my last midterm for the week and I finally have time to post what I wrote! 

(also, I wrote this twice because I had two ideas. The second version will be another post soon)

“Variations on a Plane: Meet Cute”

Alex hoists his carry on into the overhead bin, then does an awkward shuffle down the row and into his window seat, stuffing a backpack below the seat in front of him and shoving it back as far as it will go to make room for his feet. He’s already started to browse the in-flight movie options when someone sits down next to him. From the corner of his eye, Alex sees jeans rolled up at the bottom kicking a bag with a pronoun pin further under the seat. From what he can tell, his gaydar has been working decently in the UK, and those are both good signs.

“Anything good on?” the other boy asks, and Alex realizes he doesn’t have his headphones in. Not that it matters; he would have wanted to talk anyway. He notices suddenly that the other boy smells good. He’d been worried about his seat mate smelling bad, but he’d completely forgotten to consider the possibility of the opposite, which may be even more unsettling.

“Depends what you like. There’s a few superhero movies, some cartoons… it looks like a decent selection.”

The stranger nods, turning to his screen. Alex goes back to browsing until, a few minutes later, the in-flight safety demonstration pauses their screens. Alex sighs and rolls his eyes, but the stranger leans over to ask, “Have you seen this?”

“What, the safety demonstration? I flew over here, didn’t I?”

“No, this movie. I’m trying to decide if it looks good.”

Alex cranes his neck to look at the other man’s screen, ignoring the notice telling them to watch the flight attendant buckle and unbuckle a seatbelt. “Yeah, it was good. Not like… jaw dropping, best movie I’ve ever seen good, but I liked it.”

“Thanks.”

The safety demonstration ends, and their screens unpause as they begin to taxi. Alex browses until takeoff, when he turns to the window. He leans back a bit when the boy beside him looks over his shoulder, and together, they watch London fall away below them.

“This bit never gets old. I’m always a bit sad to see it go, but the city looks so beautiful.” Alex has to agree. They’ve got a horrendously early flight, but seeing London all lit up from above almost makes it worth it.

“Have you flown out of London a lot?”

“Whenever I fly it’s from here. My family lives nearby, and I went to Uni in London.”

“It’s a nice city.”

They watch together until London becomes merely a bright dot against the darkness of the English countryside. The other boy pulls away first, putting in earbuds and starting the movie Alex said was good. Alex starts his own moving not long after, trying to ignore the handsome boy next to him, resisting the urge to make sure he’s liking the movie. The stewardess comes out with snacks, and Alex gets coffee, hoping the second dose of caffeine will turn him into a being who is more human than simply an embodiment of exhaustion. The boy next to him gets tea, which is very British, and Alex tries not to find it at all endearing.

The in-flight map shows them just leaving Wales when Alex feels a weight on his shoulder. Something soft is tickling the side of his jaw. He turns slowly to see the other boy asleep, his head flopped onto Alex’s shoulder. His movie’s still playing, and Alex knows there’s an explosion coming. The loud noise could wake the other boy up, so Alex leans over to pause the movie, careful not to jostle his new passenger too much. If this stranger is tired enough to fall asleep on someone else on a plane, he deserves the nap, and letting him sleep is the least Alex can do.

He sleeps through most of Alex’s movie, and Alex finds himself humming softly when they hit some minor turbulence. The other boy starts to wake up a bit, but he settles down with Alex’s humming, letting out a soft snore. Alex just smiles, counting it as a success. He sleeps until the cabin staff start wheeling the breakfast carts down the aisle, when Alex shakes his shoulder gently and says, “Hey, they’re bringing food. You’ll need to let them know what you want.”

“Huh? Oh, oh no, I’m… I’m so sorry.” He’s turned a fantastic shade of red, but Alex shakes his head.

“No; it’s fine. Don’t be sorry. I’m glad I make a good pillow, though I have to admit, I’m a bit insulted my movie suggestion wasn’t good enough to keep you awake.”

“I’m so sorry. It’s… I’ve been up late recently, and it was an early flight, so I got like two hours of sleep… I’m so embarrassed.”

“Don’t be. We’ve all been there, and I didn’t mind. If… if you still need sleep after breakfast, and if you only got a couple hours last night you definitely will, you’re welcome to use my shoulder again. We can even use one of these mini pillows to make it more comfortable.”

“I’ll… I’ll try my best not to take you up on that, but it’s been a lot recently, so I can’t promise anything.” He might be trying to make a joke, but it’s not convincingly light-hearted enough.

“That’s okay. If… Would it help to talk about it? Whatever’s been a lot, I mean. If you want, I’m here, you can just unload it all on me and then we’ll get off this plane and never see each other again.”

“It… it really is a lot. I don’t want to overwhelm you.”

“No; go for it. I’m in a gap between stressful things. I can handle it.”

So they get their meals, and the other boy tells him that he’s traveling to do research on queer history. He’s gotten an incredibly competitive grant, and the whole application process was stressful. His family’s been waiting for him to do something with himself since he graduated a few months ago, and that only made the application and waiting process more stressful. Then, in the midst of getting his travel plans and documents together, he came out to his family, and his grandma through a fit. His mom was nice about it but hasn’t been close to them since his dad died, and his older brother stormed out of the house and hasn’t been answering any of his texts or calls. He’s still got his big sister, but he’s terrified he’s lost half his family. He almost gave up the grant to stay home and work things out, but his sister made him keep it, so he left them all behind, and he’s terrified that he did the wrong thing because what if he could have fixed things by staying? Should he have come out at all? Was breaking apart the family he has left really worth it?

By the end of his story, there are tears in his eyes, so Alex offers a shoulder and he sniffles, forcing a bit of a laugh as he hides his face. Alex hands him the breakfast bar that came as part of the meal service and talks about his own coming out, about how scared he was that his Catholic dad especially would be upset, but how they’d taken it well and they love him. Then he hands the other boy his own breakfast bar and talks about how coming out was really the only way he could be close to his family, because you can’t really have a relationship with someone if you’re hiding such a massive thing from them. By the time he’s starting to get into how things are going to get better, the other boy has fallen asleep again, and Alex just smiles as he turns back to his movie, stealing a muffin from the other boy’s breakfast tray.

When the stewardess comes to collect their dishes, she tells Alex that they make a cute couple. There’s really no point in correcting her.

A movie and a half later, there’s an in-flight lunch. The other boy wakes up more easily this time, though he still turns bright red when he realizes he fell asleep again. Alex just grins and makes sure he actually eats most of their lunch, since his breakfast was small. He vows to stay awake and actually watch the movie Alex suggested, and as a joke, Alex leans over to watch with him. But then, well, his shoulder is nice. He’s wearing a soft sweater, and the ball of muscle below it makes a nice pillow. And, well, it was an early flight. Alex was up at 1:30 to make it to the airport by 2:00, and every coffee he’s had since has worn off by now.

The next thing Alex knows, someone’s shaking his shoulder, and his head is bouncing a bit. He opens his eyes to see the other boy chuckling.

“We’re landing soon; I thought you might want to watch. I at least hoped you’d open the window so I could. I hope I was as good of a pillow for you as you were for me.”

“You’re a great pillow,” Alex says, yawning and stretching a bit, then turning to push the window open. “Is DC your final stop?”

“No; I’m on to New York for research on the Stonewall riots. What about you?”

“I’m headed to New York for school. Uni, I guess, for you fancy brits. I’m starting my law degree. Hang on, I’ve got my flight number somewhere. It leaves at like… 9:15ish?”

“So does mine! What a coincidence.”

“Here; give me your number. We can find each other after customs and get coffee or something? Will your phone work in the US?”

“It should connect to the airport’s internet.”

“Perfect; we’ll meet up after customs and get coffee or overpriced food or something.”

They exchange numbers, and on the ground, Alex texts the other boy (‘Henry’, according to the name he put in Alex’s phone) to complain about how long customs is taking. Henry tells him to be patient, and Alex rolls his eyes.

They meet up at a Starbucks near their gate, then again at a coffee shop near Alex’s apartment their first week in New York City. Then again at a coffee shop near where Henry’s living. Then they meet up for dinner and a movie, and when Henry falls asleep in the Uber on the way back to Alex’s apartment, Alex pays the driver to make four trips around the block so he can wake his boyfriend up slowly, reveling in the way Henry’s face is squished against his shoulder and the softness of Henry’s hair on his jaw.

Really, when Henry falls asleep on him looking so good, it’s no wonder Alex fell in love.

#FirstPrince #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #henry fox mountchristen windsor x alex claremont diaz #rwrb fic #rwrb #my fic: rwrb #rw&rb #red white and royal blue

[homenum-revelio-hq]

Welcome (back) to the Order of the Phoenix, Gabe!

You have been accepted for the role of REMUS LUPIN! We loved your thoughts on the darker, more difficult layers of Remus’s friendships and fears and we were fascinated by your ideas about lycanthropy’s effects on his gender transition! We’re so happy you’ve come back to Homenum Revelio, and excited to see you on our dash again!

Please take a look at the new member checklist and send in your account within 24 hours! Thank you for joining the fight against Voldemort!

OUT OF CHARACTER:

NAME: Gabe

AGE: 22

TIMEZONE: GMT-3

ACTIVITY LEVEL: Honestly pretty active, I’m still quarantined and will stay that way for a good while, probably. Remus is just one of those characters that comes easy to me, so good chances that I’ll be around a lot, hah. I’m most active on the weekdays! Weekends my sister usually tricks me into watching a billion movies or a new show, so I end up being less present.

ANYTHING ELSE: Nope!

CHARACTER DETAILS:

NAME: Remus John Lupin

AGE: 21

GENDER, PRONOUNS, and SEXUALITY: trans male, he/him/his, he’d rather not classify his sexuality as anything other than not-straight.

Remus didn’t start taking the wonderful Attisgalli Corrective Draughts until he joined Hogwarts officially, as his parents wanted to wait for that before they started him on the gender reassignment potions. That’s not to say they didn’t support their son’s identity, which he’d been frankly very vocal about since he could talk, they just wanted to be sure that he would be safe. He already had a lot on his plate. Being a werewolf, they needed to make sure the potions could even be safely used with someone like him, so they waited to talk to Dumbledore and his trusty team of potion-makers about it. Remus was on corrective draughts for all of his puberty and he’s currently on the heavier dose that only needs updating every few years. He has a few annoying side-effects after taking the wrong dosage too early. He doesn’t suppose many people know about this, and he doesn’t particularly care to tell anyone, apart from the people who already know.

As far as his sexuality goes, I don’t think he likes any of the labels he’s stumbled upon, I don’t think he openly – or even privately – calls himself anything when it comes to sexuality. He just doesn’t give it much thought. He likes whoever he likes, and if you were to say “oh, so you’re pansexual, then”, he might simply offer you a tired grunt and an unhappy twist of his face. He doesn’t feel comfortable in any boxes. “Queer” as an umbrella term would be the closest he’d get to labeling himself. All that being said, as the writer, I’d personally put him as a 4 on the kinsey scale, but that’s between you and me.

BLOOD STATUS: Half-blood/Half-breed

HOUSE ALUMNI: Gryffindor

ANY CHANGES: Don’t think so! I’m keeping the fc of Charlie Rowe after surfing through many others because I think he does Upset & Angry right. That’s really important for a Remus, he’s working through a lot right now. I also really considered to go for Paul Mescal from the new show “Normal People” because I think he has a great normal face and (from what I can tell, maybe) some pretty scars on his chin and he has some great scenes BUT he currently has no resources. Also considered Louis Hofmann, from netflix’s Dark, but decided he looked too young, even though he’s in his twenties, too. Anyway, just wanted to briefly take you with me on that faceclaim journey, the conclusion is that I love Charlie Rowe and I didn’t know him before so I thank you guys for suggesting him!

CHARACTER BACKGROUND:

PERSONALITY:

Remus today is very different from who he was in Hogwarts. That’s no surprise, of course – who doesn’t grow out of their weird teenage years? But it feels different with him, and that’s because at seventeen, Remus already had enough baggage to count for an adult. So where does that leave you, at twenty-one?

He is a lot of things. He is tired, he is angry, he is devastated, he is young. If before he was only a boy, crushed under the weight of all the things that happened to him, now he is a man, standing tall but hardened by life’s constant beating. He hasn’t so much overcome his issues as he has simply grown friendly with his demons. His edges have turned sharper, his hands have grown colder, he’s losing contact with his faith.

That’s not to say his core has changed. Remus is kind, before anything else. He hasn’t lost the warmth his mother taught him, because that kind of empathy is not something one easily shrugs off. Even the war couldn’t take this from him. It wears him down these days, being selfless, having a caring vein and needing to look after others. He’s already lost so much, and he doesn’t see this changing anytime soon, as they continue to lose battle after battle, but this is still who he is. He wants a better world, he wants the good side to win.

Remus is also very secretive. He can come across as cold or distant to people he doesn’t know, because he had a lifetime of keeping himself concealed. It’s his defense mechanism and it’s how he’s kept himself alive after all these years.

In fact, he’s not even fully sure how his few friends managed to slip under that armour so easily. Sure, his armour wasn’t so well-built when he was a child, but it was still some work. He was once simply a scared eleven-year-old, eager to learn and be a good student, and suddenly he ended up in a lifelong bond with three other idiots. In a lot of ways, he owes so much of his personality to the Marauders. He bloomed in Hogwarts, he had a safe and healthy environment with people he loved, he could finally grow into a normal boy; he cracked jokes and he made fun of himself and he learned not to take things so seriously. He was not just a werewolf, not just a monster. He’s a great friend, he’s funny on his good days, he’s sarcastic and kind and protective of his friends. He owes this to them.

Remus is a trans man who started taking corrective draughts as soon as he entered Hogwarts. Dumbledore was the one who encouraged his parents to allow this, promising he’d keep an eye out and take care of Remus. There wasn’t exactly any research done on whether or not the potions would affect a werewolf’s body differently, so they’d have to be cautious, but several potion makers insisted nothing should go wrong.

They were right, technically. The potions didn’t react any kind of way with his blood, they did their work normally. It also perhaps helped that most of the side-effects were all things that Remus had been dealing with his whole life, due to the curse: muscle and joint aches, mood swings, headaches. The only catch was that every time he turned, every full moon, when he came back into his human form, the draught had completely worn off.

This made things a little more complicated. It didn’t mean anything to his health, thankfully, all he had to do was take another dose of the potion in the morning and he’d be back on track. It was something about his metabolism overworking, the fact that his body healed itself after each moon. They could never quite fix that little quirk – every morning after the full moon, he’d wake up in a body that didn’t belong to him.

This was when he was on a small dosage of the draught, of course, still going through puberty and taking the so-called “Children’s Corrective Doses” that had to be ingested every week.

Despite the general crippling discomfort of briefly being in the wrong body once a month, it was fine when he was making the turns by himself at first. Then the Marauders joined, and that was weird; it took him a while to agree to their presence and it wasn’t only because they could be in danger. He was scared of being that vulnerable, too.

Because of this monthly hiccup on the process, potioneers instructed that he should be on this smaller dose for as long as possible before he transitioned safely into the “Permanent Corrective Dose”. Five years at least, seven if he could, before he switched to the potion that he’d only have to take every two years or more. This shouldn’t be a problem, he thought innocently, hearing this at age eleven.

By sixteen, the temptation of the Permanent Dose was too grand. It stopped being bearable after a while, the whole “waking up in the wrong body once a month” experience. And the temptation was there because the potioneers said that an adult dosage would likely fix that monthly issue. All he wanted was to stop worrying about this thing – wasn’t the fact that he turned into a murderous beast more than enough? Besides, he was turning seventeen soon, he was most likely done with puberty, he had done the smaller doses for six years already.

So the Marauders made a grand plan. And out of all the illegal, morally questionable things Remus has done, he probably holds this one as the best. They managed to buy him a vial of a Permanent Corrective Dose, and he drank it without thinking twice.

This didn’t come without consequences. Dumbledore was mad. His parents were mad. Every potioneer he knew was pretty annoyed. He frankly couldn’t give a damn, he was overjoyed – it had worked. The moon came, and for the first time when he came back to his senses, he was in the right body, his body. He didn’t care if anyone was pissed at him.

He still doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about the debilitating migraines he still gets as a side-effect. He doesn’t care that his muscles will sometimes cramp, or that his skin sometimes feels raw. He can handle all of that – quite frankly, he’s happy to deal with all of that, if it means keeping his body through the transformations.

It’s important to take from this that Remus Lupin doesn’t shy away from many things. He likes to deal with things head-on, he is a Gryffindor, after all. Once Dumbledore sent him to live with the werewolves shortly after graduating, he made sure to take another permanent dose, a heavier one, to last him however long he stayed out. This time the draught was acquired legally, since he was already of age, but the higher dose in this short amount of time wasn’t exactly what the mediwix ordered. This ended up aggravating his side-effects.

Still – and perhaps that is a testament to his stubbornness –, he’ll tell you this was all worth it.

BRIEF OVERVIEW OF FAMILY:

Remus grew up in a happy home. Well, as happy as a family could be, while plagued by the curse of lycanthropy. So maybe not so happy at all.

He doesn’t remember much of his early childhood, if you ask him. He remembers the looming sense of despair, he remembers seeing his parents cry through cracks of barely open doors, he remembers quiet dinners and he remembers feeling awful. He can’t remember not being a werewolf, but he thinks they were the happiest before that.

They were okay after it, eventually, too. They all had to learn to navigate it, and once he grew a little older, things were easier, as easy as they would get. He remembers that time a little better – the times just before he went to Hogwarts and his time at the castle, too.

Overall, Remus grew up with a good family, he’d tell you. They didn’t have many distant relatives, so it was always just the three of them, and his parents were supportive – mostly. Hope was the warmth of the house, and if anything, she only grew closer to Remus after he was bitten. She was overprotective, and stern, and she had trouble handling when things didn’t go exactly her way, but those are hardly things kids notice about their parents when they’re still kids. He could tell you this today, but his memories of her are still all sugar-coated, tinted pink, gentle.

She didn’t understand his gender identity at first, his father once told him. Hope still had too many roots in the muggle world, it took her some time to wrap her head around all of these ideas. Lyall was the one who had to sit her down and explain to her about the corrective draught, and how common it actually was, how safe. She was the one who wanted to wait for a talk with the Headmaster before she let him take the potions.

Luckily for Remus, he was so young by the time she was having those first doubts and issues with his identity, he doesn’t have any bad memories of that. To him, she never mistreated him, and he never felt anything but accepted. She protected him with all of her heart, and that included all of him, her son, and a werewolf.

In fact, one of his fondest memories of her is getting a haircut, before his very first day in Hogwarts. He usually wore his hair somewhere a little above shoulder-length, a little choppy; he just liked how it swung when he ran, to be honest, and how it splattered water everywhere if he spun his head really fast in the shower. But he was terrified of having magic classes for the first time, he was scared of being thrown into a castle full of people he didn’t know, far away from his parents, the only safe haven he knew. She was the one who suggested a haircut first. They sat and flipped through silly muggle magazines until he found a cut he liked on some cologne ad, and she did it herself. Looks somewhat similar to what he still has as a haircut, if only with more bowlcut-esque qualities back then.

Lyall was more distant, growing up. Hope had little trouble getting over her bias of gender to accept his identity, but his father couldn’t do the same for his curse. If you asked Remus, he never really accepted his child being a werewolf, he was ashamed of his condition.

If you asked Lyall, the story’s a bit different. He was distant, but only because he couldn’t deal with all of the turmoil within himself. He couldn’t look at his child without thinking that he was the one responsible for Fenrir’s attack. He was responsible for his son being a werewolf, cursed forever – how could he look at Remus and see past that? Of course he was distant. Of course he dedicated his time trying to find a cure. As the turns hurt Remus, they hurt his father just as much. Every moon, he suffered with him.

It was hard for him, looking past that, but not because he was in any way ashamed of the condition. He felt sorry, and he didn’t know where to put all the guilt. He didn’t want to spend all of his time pitying his child, but he did. And it was easier to be distant when he felt undeserving of his son’s love in the first place; there would never be anything he could do to make up for this.

In conclusion, they were good parents, but it would also be unfair to completely ignore that Remus has such an issue with being a werewolf, as an adult, and – given that he was closeted about that his whole life –, this must’ve come from his parents. Their efforts to protect and hide Remus’ lycanthropy have not done him any good on the long run, they have not quite focused on the “but also, love yourself” part of their speech. Not to fully blame them or anything, of course there isn’t a “how to raise a werewolf” manual out there, and they had to deal with so much since he was just a little boy, they did what they had to do to keep their child safe. Remus truly believes they did the very best they could, and that they were perfect parents, given the circumstances.

I don’t think it registers to him that they may be the very root of the crippling self-deprecation he feels, and frankly, I don’t think it ever will register. This is not the kind of thing you unravel within yourself without some serious help.

Nowadays, since Hope’s passing, the two Lupin men have managed to grow closer. The hurt is still there, Remus still thinks his father is too cold and ashamed of him, and Lyall thinks he’s guilty and that Remus must hate him. They’re not big on talking about feelings, but they’re warmer with each other now than they ever were. That’s not saying much, it’s barely anything more than the occasional back pat and smile, but Remus likes to think Hope would be happy.

OCCUPATION:

He currently still works with the Dissendum Task Force, as he feels truly at home taking care of that part of things. He wants a job, he always wanted to be able to take care of himself, of course, I imagine he put up a fight when it came to depending solely on James’ money. He always intended to pay it back, to eventually find something for himself. He grew comfortable, the slightest bit, with James’ money, knowing he had that safety net while he figured things out, and while they all had bigger things to worry about. Now he has lost his friend, and he needs to find something, anything, to keep himself afloat, and all of this on top of the grieving, it might just make him reach a breaking point.

ROLE WITHIN THE ORDER/THOUGHTS ABOUT THE ORDER:

Remus feels like a paradox within the order. He feels both at the very center of it, as well as standing on the outside, looking in. He believes in them wholeheartedly, even if he’s not so sure he stumbled upon all of this belief himself, or if it’s been drilled into him by one very dedicated James Potter. And now that James is gone – how should he know how to feel?

More and more, he feels like he’s simply floating around in this war, a walking mystery, neither here nor there. He does as he’s told, he helps whoever he can help, and he won’t say a peep but he is starting to question his own faith, at this point. It’s difficult not to. He had a problem going with the werewolves, of course, and that time was generally awful, but he owed Dumbledore too much to say no. How much of what he does really is his choice, or someone else’s? He’s starting to grow tired of it.

He loves his friends more than anything, therefor he loves the Order, but he’s afraid of how long this might last.

SURVIVAL:

Remus is always on the move, but that’s nothing new to him. He’s been on the move since he was a kid, occasionally dragged off from one side of Europe to another, their family led by his father’s blind ambition towards finding a cure. He never felt like he could truly stop, and he grew up to embrace a sense of restlessness. The first place he truly understood the meaning of “home” was the castle, and even then, he knew his time there would have an end. In a way, this has helped him survive. He stays alert, he stays on the move. He’s always ready to pack up and disappear, as long as he knows he has the right people on his side.

His current living situation is, I imagine, complicated at best. He wouldn’t want to get a place on money that’s not his own, and he’s never been able to make his own money, at least not substantially. First, he was out with the other werewolves, he followed them anywhere and slept wherever he could when he needed to.

Then, he stayed at the McKinnon estate, and even though he knows he can stay there, he’s still often looking over his shoulder, waiting for the day they’ll kick him out. It still doesn’t feel right. It never does. He hasn’t felt at home since Hogwarts – or, perhaps, the odd times in between when he couch surfed wherever Sirius, James, or Peter were staying.

Now, he’s with his father momentarily, hiding. He hasn’t told Lyall anything that happened, he just packed up and showed up at his father’s doorstep. The contact isn’t ideal, but Remus needed the full recharge, even if just for a day or two. Lyall welcomed him with a brow heavy with concern, but he put the kettle on for some tea anyway, and he didn’t ask questions he didn’t want the answers to. Remus deemed that good enough.

RELATIONSHIPS:

Oh, boy. Things are a mess. This is the emo part of the app.

I must start this section talking about how much friends mean to Remus. They mean everything. Everything he heard since he was five-years-old was how much he needed to hide himself, how badly he needed to keep this secret, or everything would end terribly. He was a monster. He was capable of horrible, despicable things, and no one could accept him. By eleven, he’d come to term with this. By eleven, he barely even believed he’d get the chance to study. This is the weight this little kid had to carry around.

And then – enter the Marauders, the best, most miraculous thing to happen to him. A boy with a curse, suddenly welcomed into the coolest group of kids he’d ever met. He honestly felt like it was some kind of lie, or an elaborate prank. Those very first months after they met, he’d wait until the others all fell asleep and he’d write letters to his mom, telling her all about them. He’d write fast and he’d write over several sheets of parchment, talking about all the wonderful, terrible things that boys their age did. He was happy.

Eventually, he stopped waiting for the other shoe to drop. They grew close, the others found out his secret, they never once turned away from him. They helped him. They loved each other, the lot of them. And it was so, so much more than a monster could hope for – still, to this day, he’s not sure how they do it, how they can love him. He owes them so much, but it’s not even about that, it’s not about owing. If he did, he’d owe them his entire soul. There’s not enough space in his body, in his heart, for how much he owes them.

They were, and they continue to be, everything.

And then the war happened. They parted ways, and by the time Remus came back, things had shifted. Things felt off. He was certain the love was still there – it has to be, it has to –, but it felt like it was stained, tainted by something else, something ugly. Suddenly, he’s not sure he can trust them anymore, but he doesn’t know if that’s his gut speaking, or if it’s paranoia.

That’s the duality of man, and the duality of monster, he supposes. Everything trails between gut feeling and paranoia. He’s scared of being doubted, so he’ll turn a pointing finger right back. If they think he can be a mole, then they can be a mole.

He’s terrified of losing them. More than anything, Remus really is terrified of losing his loved ones. He knows he can survive it; he’s lost his mum, he now lost James, you would think he’s hardened enough by now to be able to take it, but he’s not. In his eyes, they are his humanity. What is he, if he doesn’t have his friends? What’s a monster if he isn’t loved?

They all knew going into this that it wouldn’t be easy, sure, but sometimes Remus feels a little alone in how much he feels. It seems like the world keeps turning, the war doesn’t stop for grief. And it feels like everyone else picks themselves up and moves right along with it, but he can’t. Every death weighs on him, every loss has just been piling and piling up onto his shoulders and he doesn’t know how much else he can take. He feels like everyone else is so much better equipped for this. They all mourn, sure, but… do they? They can’t be feeling this like he does, because if they were, they’d be feeling this crippling dread. They’d be feeling how hard it is to move, how shaky his hands feel all the time, how his heart seems to be broken into a million pieces and all of his insides have rottened.

He resents that. He wants to be able to grieve openly without feeling like he’s slowing anyone down. He wants to be able to feel things, and give them time, before they’re running into the next death trap that could easily take another one of his loved ones. He really needs the time to stop and feel this, because it’s crushing him, and he doesn’t feel like any of his friends understand how bad it is – which in itself is the most crushing part of it. When did they all become these sort of robots programmed for war? And why didn’t he get that memo?

James Potter – Don’t get me started on the duality of being so hurt by the fact that your best friend outed your biggest, most damning secret to everyone, and then died. I mean. What the fuck, James. In all seriousness, this is a lot to handle, which is why he deserves to be mentioned in this section even if this doesn’t exactly make for new plots. Remus doesn’t know how to feel; normally he’d be upset at that betrayal, accidental or not, but he didn’t even have the time to process that, before grief steamrolled into everything. He wants to be angry. He wants the right to be mad, to maybe yell at James, to hear his apologies and immediately forgive him, because of course he’s not really angry, he’s just scared. And instead, he gets silence.

Sirius Black – Sirius always has a way of filling up every room he walks into. Remus always thought he’d be better off if he was a little more like Sirius, and maybe that’s why they work – how opposing their energies are. Remus is always trying to make himself smaller. In a way, this is also why they don’t work, on the times they don’t. Sirius was probably the person he trusted the most, even if they didn’t always see eye to eye. It hurts him a lot to think that maybe this trust is broken now; that maybe after all of this, they’ll end up too cold and distant to have the friendship they used to have. He hopes, blindly, that’s not the case.

Peter Pettigrew – He feels protective towards Peter. Maybe that stems from their years in the castle, how Peter was seen as the little kid who trailed behind them and not one of the Marauders himself. Remus never liked hearing that. And Peter is different than the others to him, he always seemed a bit smaller, a bit more innocent; Sirius and James have no trouble taking care of themselves, that’s not even a question. Peter, on the other hand. Remus feels like he needs to help him any way he can.

Lily Evans – He loves Lily like a sister. She reminds him of his mother, sometimes, with her warmth and her determination. She’s the strongest person he knows, and he think he’d probably trust her and follow her blindly anywhere – or, at least, he felt like that when they were all in school. He still wishes they were closer nowadays, he wishes they spoke more.

Marlene McKinnon – She’s too cool for him, honestly. Plain and simple, somewhere in the core of his being, he’s still just a really lame teenager who thinks she might be too cool to hang out with him. He’s grateful that he gets to crash at the estate, but he’s also well-aware of her family’s view of the half-breeds. He can’t quite relax while he’s there, he keeps expecting to be discovered and kicked out any passing second. Now that his secret is out, he fears she’ll turn on him.

OOC EXPLORATION:

SHIPS/ANTI-SHIPS:

I ship Remus/chemistry first, always, of course! I always find that you have to throw characters together in action before you start planning anything, you never know where the chemistry will be. I’ve taken part in many a ships in my time, Sirius/Remus probably being the main one, but in this context, everything’s a little trickier! It’s a very unstable, difficult time, and this is a very sad and angry Remus. He wants something, he wants to have someone, I just don’t think he even knows how, or where to begin with. I think he pushes the idea of romance so far back in his brain, thinking he can never have it, that it’s almost an impossibility in itself because of it. I think he’ll have a very difficult time believing anyone wants him like that, even if it does happen. I really look forward to possibly exploring any ships if chemistry happens! And I don’t think I have any anti-ships, currently. All is fair in the rp land.

WHAT PRIVILEGES AND BIASES DOES YOUR CHARACTER HAVE?

It is safe to say Remus has a bias against werewolves, in the saddest, most twisted way possible. Yes, he is one, and he doesn’t deny that to himself, but there’s a reason why he’s so careful to hide it from everyone else, why he was so reluctant in letting even his closest friends help him out – he agrees with all the stories and tales. He doesn’t feel proud to have this curse, he wouldn’t defend it if someone were to attack it.

They are monsters, once a month, under the moon. It doesn’t matter if his friends for years tried to convince him he’s a good person, he won’t believe it until he lets go of these horrible ideas he has of the curse itself. Even after meeting so many others like him. He may think hating it – hating himself – makes him better, a higher moral ground on the scale, as opposed to the werewolves who flaunt it. He may think some of them, like Fenrir, are worse than him for this, but it doesn’t make things that much better for how he views them.

As far as privileges go, Remus recognizes he has it pretty easy as far as his family life goes. He had loving parents – as far as he can tell –, he had a normal home life; he’s a half-blood, which meant he usually flew under the radar, considering how other wix seemed to view muggleborns, in contrast.

But as far as privileges he doesn’t recognize, I’d say that’s probably more interesting. Remus thinks of himself as a monster. A werewolf, bitten while he was still so young. His bite scar sits on his shoulder, now grown and shifted but the pale scar tissue never gone, an ugly mark. He doesn’t think himself particularly handsome, he doesn’t see many talents that stand out. He thinks he’s pretty much at the very bottom of the food chain.

Which is all kind of untrue, he’s blinded by his self-deprecation. Everyone has privileges, he is no different. He’s a werewolf, and that’s terrible, but other than that he’s not exactly doing too bad. He was always a good student, he liked studying, good grades came easy. His looks had never proven to be a problem, even if he believes it is. He had a good home, dedicated parents, he never ran out of money for books and robes and chocolate bars growing up. If you strip Remus of his lycanthropy – and lord knows he’s dreamed of that –, the truth is, he doesn’t have anything else to feel sorry about. And he’s so stuck feeling sorry for himself all the time, that he has a hard time recognizing his privileges and biases.

To him, he’s a monster, but to anyone else who doesn’t know of his condition, he’s really just another regular guy fighting the war. Of course, now, with everyone’s discovery – things will change.

WHAT ARE YOU MOST LOOKING FORWARD TO?

Well, I’m not new to this scene, hi, hello! So I already know everyone here is an amazing writer, and I adore you admins (I promise I’m not just sucking up for the sake of the app, it’s true). I love Remus, it’s been a few years since I last played him but he’s the muse that’s always alive in my head – this is the fastest and longest bio I ever wrote, to prove my point, aha. I especially love this Remus, the mid-war, post-Hogwarts, “can’t get a job”, “questioning the loyalty of the people I love the most” Remus. He’s feeling a lot. He’s tired, he’s angry, he’s grown sharp edges from the soft boy he once was. There’s so much to explore, and while it’s definitely a little scary to fill in someone else’s shoes, I’m really looking forward to writing with everyone and exploring all the many plots and relationships possible!

PLOT DROP IDEAS (OPTIONAL):

I’m terrible at these, I’ll admit, but I am open to everything you may want to throw my way! I also think I’ll need to take a second to acclimate into any of Remus’ pre-existing plots before throwing around any specifics of my own.

That being said, though, something that I’m excited to explore is his current unemployment. I want him to search for some kind of proper job to try to pay things for himself. I think he’s too proud to ask anyone else for help at this point, and he might have several emotional breakdowns on this process, but he’s gonna do his best. Also anything to do with his current (quite terrible) side-effects from Attisgalli Corrective Draughts, or exploring his gender identity in general, I’d love that!

ANYTHING ELSE? I was gonna do a pinterest board but I’ll spare you guys the trouble for now, this is already 11 pages long. Oops! Thank you for reading!!

#marauders era rpg #hp rpg #marauders rpg #harry potter roleplay #hp roleplay #homenumaccepted

[overwatchshotz]

Couples fight (reaperxF!reader) 1

Just writing a collection of moments where you and our beloved Reaper argue like couples do sometimes. But there are always sweet endings with our edgy man.

Warnings: Female pronouns, cussing, mentions of sexual activity. And physical fighting (one sided) that turns into kissy faces.

-×-

She had an attitude today, she was tired, she was bored, and she missed him terribly. But he was always just gone. Work she could understand, she worked with him, but lately he was just gone for hours sometimes days even. And she was getting sick of that. If he didnt want her, tell her, she rather cry her tears tonight and be moving on the next day.

"I'm back." His voice heard in the for the most part silent room, she was reading. "For how long?" She asked. Her tone not pleasant, he could pick up on that as soon as he entered the room, just from body language alone. "A while" he said going over to her to try his luck with a simple move of the mask and kiss on top of her head. "So 5 minutes?" She asked. He rolled his eyes. Starting to take off his hood and coat. He had a very long day.

"Oh my God, those are actually removable?" She gasped raising her brow. He tossed his garments onto an armchair beside him, mask gone, only his scarred face and goatee, still nicely groomed. His brown orbs now a reddish color. He combed his beard with her fingers now free from his usual clawed gauntlets. "Is there an issue?" He asked. "Perhaps....are you going to stay long enough to actually talk about it?" She asked putting her bookmark in her book and tossing it to the coffee table.

He stood there arms now crossed. "Speak." He saying simply. "What have you been doing whenever you arent around, or not on missions?" She asked. "Afraid I'm unfaithful? Never took you as the type." He said amusement in his gruff tone. "I've heard rumors about you being unfaithful to your past organization...so you ARE the type maybe." She said with even more amusement when his eye seemed to twitch. She wasn't with him during those days, they became an item after he joined Talon.

"Watch it..." he warned. "No, you watch it. I want to know where you've been going and why." She wasnt afraid of him in the slightest, she was never afraid of anyone in her life, it's something he liked about her. "It's none of your business Y/N..." he was getting pissed. "It is my business if you want to keep getting between my legs Gabriel. I dont sleep with cheaters nor traitors." She said sternly. "I'm not the one getting between your legs sweetheart, you crawl onto my dick." He chuckled at the look of her face. He could play the game of who can piss off the other just as well as she could.

"Now tell me princess, what did daddy say no to that has you so pouty?" He asked in a mocking manner. Knowing she hated to be called princess. ((In this situation anyway)) and in a moment, he moved his head to the side dodging a oncoming fake plant (they were not around enough to take care of real ones). "F*ck you! You know what fine dont tell me, but whatever you're up to, I hope she, he or it is worth it and if you f*ck up I'm not backing you!" She got up the chair she said in and went for the door.

He was infront of her in seconds, "You're not walking away from me, and you will not walk out of here making a scene..." now if she wasnt so mad at him, him being so tall and towering over her, she would have been turned on, but right now she wanted to hit him. "I'll make biggest scene and show you how I could have been an actress." She said. "How dramatic you are I dont doubt it." He said, that's it. She pushed him back against the door and her fist went to his face, he moved his head and her fist went through the door.

"Come at the king....best not miss...and you're the only one who got a chance to try twice." He said. " 3..." she corrected and brought her knee up to get him in the stomach, he grabbed her leg and shoved her backward. Their living quarters was like a studio apartment, she stumbled onto the bed on her back. "Always loved seeing you like that..." he was sounding playful. "You better start taking me seriously..." she growled as she grabbed a lamp and threw it at him too, he wisped and was behind her now.

"Hard to when you're acting like a child throwing a tantrum..." his arms wrapped around her, holding her to him tightly, she kicked her legs trying to get him to falter in some way. "Now let me guess what's really wrong...." he grunted when she bit his arm. "You're lonely, horny, and bored. And I have been too busy for your liking and you're insecurities, which I'm surprised you have any, are making you come up with insane theories." He grunted again when she managed to stretch her leg up and behind his head, the position forcing him to let go and she got his arm, they wrestled a little bit,but she but him in an arm bar.

"F*ck" he grunted. "You will tell me what you've been up to, or we are over..." she threatened as she tightened her hold. Despite all this, he loved her, and he sighed, getting his other arm and managing to grab his own hand and started to lift her, forcing the arm bar to break and she let go, her body landing on the bed, her body bouncing in a delightful way in his sight.

"What If you couldnt know?" He said looking down at her, exhausted. "You know how many things I told you that you couldnt know? Just tell me if you're screwing around with someone else just tell me so I could get up, get out and move on." She said. "Y/N..." he sighed, she was going to be mad either way. "I'm not seeing anyone sexually...or romantically...besides you. If you want to label us that." He said. "Then?" She nudged him with her foot.

"I've been trying to fix myself..." Gabe finally said. "Fix yourself?" She said slowly, trying to understand. "Yes, I want to be normal again...I'm tired of my body feeling like its constantly on fire, I hate when my face decays and I have to go a week sometimes weeks without kissing you." "Who have you been seeing?" She asked. He gave her a look, he's trying to open up here and she's still on that question. "The one who turned me into this...monstrosity..." he sounded sad, disgusted with himself. He should have never aloud Moria to help him...she was helping herself...and left him to rot...literally then regenerate, he was in pain most of the time, even when he and Y/N are together he hid the fact, something he became pretty good at.

"So me touching you, hurts you?" She asked. "In the last 10 minutes, yes..." he joked. But she felt horrible. "Then why would you be with me if you're in constant pain?" She asked. "Because of a silly little L word...besides, its most of the time, it seems when I have you, that sensation overtakes the pain..." he smirked at the small blush on her face. "Go to someone else...to help you I mean...Moria won't help, she'll probably just experiment more in the name of finding a cure..." she said.

He sighed "I there is no one else..." he said. She now wrapped her arms around his neck, "Not true, you see here's the thing, I know people...people that even Talon can't connect with...very special friends that If I call would love to meet you." She said, lips brushing against him, barely connecting. "And how come you've never mentioned them?" He asked his hands going to her hips. "It's your fault, you don't let me in...how am I supposed to know these things if you dont talk" she said. "Point taken....in Talon you never know who your friends are..." he said. "True but then why do you let me "crawl onto your dick" hmmm?" She raised a brow. He chuckled "You're cute...that's why." "Bull...I think it has something to do with that silly L word you were mentioning." She pressed. "Maybe I "Like" you...just a little bit..." he said.

She kissed his lips slowly, pressing herself more into him. She missed his lips. "Bull" she said pecking his lip. "Mmmmm maybe I like you a little more than a bit..." he said, she kept pecking his lips "bull..." she said again. He hummed, laying her down, getting ontop of her. "Alright, alright....since you literally twisted my arm...I love you..." he said. "Love you too...asshole..." she said making nip at her lip. "I think I need relief (pet name of your choice)..." "Go to Moria..." she said playfully making him growl and kiss her hard, she laughing into the kiss.

Ah Silly little L word...

~End~

Hope you enjoyed, as always Gif is not mine, and if you guys would like me to write something, use that ask box. And I will write it hopefully. I will put up a notice and "rules" soon.

#gabriel reyes x reader #gabriel reyes #reaper x reader #reaper overwatch

[nobeliumoxygenoxygen]

Dabi || Still here, princess?

SUMMARY: After moving from the dungeons to Dabi’s chambers, life is definitely easier not having to attempt escape every second day. But your situation is temporary at best and when missions get longer and farther away, Dabi has no choice but to leave you behind and, more importantly, alone in the castle full of demons. (sequel to Dabi || Lost, princess?)

GENRE: fantasy au (demon!dabi), she/her pronouns

WORDS: approx. 5500

--

Dabi knows that he can't keep you in his chambers forever.

Well, he could, but he also knows just how insufferably annoying you’ll become if you stay cooped up any longer, and he knows what that kind of suffocation does to a person--oh, does he know. 

But at the end of the day, what other choice does he have? He can't let you out if he's not with you, and even being with you poses a certain kind of danger. It shows that he's growing an attachment to you, something that demons aren't supposed to have. It reminds the other members of your existence, which they have, hopefully, forgotten about at this point. 

With the exception of Toga.

Who is, really, the only thorn in his plans.

He's not stupid. He notices her glances at him, and wouldn't for the life of him ever have believed the flimsy excuse that she'd just been "exploring" when he'd found her in front of his doors. Dabi is not stupid.

But that also means that he knows not to refuse a mission from the boss himself, even if it means being placed farther and farther from you, and for longer and longer periods of time. Their plans are coming together, in the months since their once scraggly rag-tag group of demons had formed, and with that means bigger scale missions. 

Missions that leave you alone in his chambers for far too long.

He does have options, of course he does. But they are not ideal in least bit. Take you with him and put you in perhaps more danger than staying at the castle? Increase the power of the protection spells around his chambers and risk not having enough to face whatever Knights were waiting to get their stupidly heroic hands on him? 

No, and there was no way Dabi was going to try your idea.

"It was just a suggestion, you know!"

"The worst one in the world, princess."

With a throw of your hands, you turn away from the amused demon, groaning. "Gee, I'm so sorry that I tried to help."

"You should be, darling, after all I thought your chats with Toga taught you everything you needed to know about us demons."

"It did, but then my chats with you taught me that maybe what I needed to know was wrong." Dabi's mouth twitches downwards, briefly. What does that mean? He was, and still is, dangerous, despite his attitude towards you, and you still know that, right? "I mean, aren't you guys all allies or something? Why can't one of them, you know, protect me whilst you're gone? You can phrase it as saying they're helping you, an ally, a fellow member of this oh-so-great League. A comrade--"

"That's enough. Your spewing Knight propaganda. It’s embarrassing. Come now, I thought we knew better." 

You roll your eyes. "Having friends is not Knight propaganda, is a basic human need." You stop, realising what you had just said and open your mouth to backtrack but Dabi, unfortunately, beats you to it.

"But I'm not human, am I, princess?"

You groan once more, louder this time, and more exasperated, and Dabi does not know why it makes his world a little brighter, why the way you smile and groan and laugh makes his heart beat the way it does. "You know what I mean."

"I don't think I do." 

Before you can swear at him, a bell rings. The bell rings--the one to alert the League members that a meeting was to commence. Dabi found the idea hilarious; it was so very human, and on top of that, so very aristocratic, like something royalty would do. Like something royalty did do, because he knew they did.

You sit up on the bed, waiting patiently for Dabi to 'poof' away, as you'd once called his teleporting in a slip-of-the-tongue, but he only gives an amused smirk back at you, fueling your irritation enough that you respond to him with a vulgar gesture and fall back onto the bed. Only after a moment does Dabi 'poof' out and into the meeting room, where most of the others are already inside.

Barely a second passes and he can already gauge the atmosphere; tense, like something, or someone, is ready to burst.

That someone being Shigaraki.

But it is Kurogiri who speaks first. "The Knights of the Society are on the move. It appears that they are confident they can catch us, and if the intel we have gathered is correct, they've gained more help from other regions. Specifically speaking, All Might himself."

Compress gives a wave of his hand. "It couldn't be anything we can't handle, now, can it?"

"We don't know that. We can never truly know that, I must remind you. It is best to overestimate them." Compress sighs but nods. "Because of that, we must get a move on as well. Dabi, you are to play a vital role in this."

He lets no flicker of surprise show, besides the fact that he leans forward, off of the wall he was leaning on. 

"You are to gain the trust and alliance of a Knight for some files that we need."

There is surprise in the room now, but no one makes a move to protest immediately. Spinner is the one who speaks first. "A Knight? Isn't that--well, huge? Which Knight are we aiming for?" 

"Any of them," Shigaraki interrupts. He turns away from the desk he'd been standing at and walks towards the long table in the middle, dropping a piece of paper onto it. "This is a list of names--Giran says these are the most likely Knights to turn traitor." He looks up and meets Dabi's eyes, a slow, small smile growing on his face. "Your pick. But do whatever it takes to make sure you succeed."

"Hang on, how do we know it's not a trap?" Magne asks.

"We don't," Shigaraki says simply and if it weren't for the fact that he was his boss, Dabi would have liked to melt Shigaraki's face for the sheer casualness of the way he was clearly endangering his life. "But Dabi's strong enough to fend for himself, right?"  And for being a pain in the ass in general.

But Dabi is forced to smirk, forced to open his mouth and say, "Of course," and forced to accept the mission.

Even though he does not know just what the hell he will do with you.

The meeting ends soon after, Shigaraki declaring that Dabi has a day to get out onto the field, Toga all but ecstatic about the whole situation as Twice has to bear the brunt of her excited chattering, and Dabi berating himself for not noticing something was up earlier when he leaves, followed by Compress and Magne. He should have realised something was wrong when they did not warp out.

"Is there something on your mind, Dabi?" Compress asks, a bit too pointedly for his liking.

He grunts, halfheartedly shrugging. "No. The mission should go smoothly. I already know who to go for."

Compress nods, but continues. "I didn't mean anything about the mission, though."

"I think you know what we're referring to," Magne interrupts. "Or who, I should say."

Dabi doesn't let anything show, but he just barely manages to stop his jaw from clenching. So they do know. Because of Toga? Or had they realised where the princess-where you had disappeared off to?

The masked demon sighs, his gloved hand touching his forehead. "We'll just get to the point then. A little birdie told us about a certain human in your chambers, Dabi. A certain princess."

"You say you'll get to the point, Compress, but you don’t." Magne scoffs, even more exasperatedly than him. "Dabi, if you need us to help her while you're gone, just say the word. We are allies."

He doesn't stop walking, but he does slow, giving Magne a glance. They are allies, that much is true, but not without a cost. That much is more true.

"But let's be honest, you don't much have much of a choice. How else will you provide for her when you're gone? Shigaraki said it himself--you'll be gone for a while, Dabi." 

"Just let us help," Magne repeats. "We swear we won't hurt her."

That gets him thinking. If they swear...

Demons are all about oaths and deals, contracts and agreements. The wording though... the wording must be precise, exact, otherwise loopholes happen and deals go the way it can, but not the way you expected.

"You won't hurt her. Physically, mentally, or emotionally." They start nodding already. "You'll provide her with food that she wants to eat, and fresh water that is safe to drink." He stops, remembering a final detail. "And you will not let Toga near her."

Compress and Magne repeat what he'd said, adding an "I swear" at the end, the latter smiling, the former--well, wearing the mask as usual.

Dabi swears internally.

This was the only way.

But it was not one he liked.

-

"Okayyy..." You drag out the word. "So you'll be gone for a while--"

"A long while, princess, a long while."

"And in the meantime Compress and Magne will... 'help' me. Or, give me food and water and that's it?"

"Yes."

You nod slowly, letting it sink in. It was rather short notice; your demon friend, companion--something--leaving for a mission that would take months, leaving you to the mercy and help of other demons.

Damn, you shouldn't have suggested asking them for help. Because now look where it led you. At the time, you hadn't realised just how afraid you'd be. You knew nothing about them. Your time with Dabi meant you only trusted him, and even that to an extent for it had only been a month and a half and though a lot had happened in that time, you couldn't possibly know someone well and truly in just that short span of time. Sure, you were comfortable enough to express exasperation, and frustration at him--though, it is impossible not too--, but you had never seen him truly angry (save for that encounter in your dungeon weeks and weeks ago, an encounter you still hadn’t deciphered, no... still hadn’t accepted the meaning of) or sad or even happy, now that you thought about it. Though you weren't quite sure if Dabi was capable of smiling like the average person. His variety of expressions seemed to constitute of smirks and more smirks.

"Y/N?"

You jolt out of your thoughts, eyes wide and incredulous as you stare up at Dabi.

"You'll be fed, and kept hydrated, so the only real issue is--"

"You called me by my name."

"Gonna be boredo--what?"

You grin, ignoring the nausea settling in your stomach. "You called me by my name, Dabi! Are you feeling alright? Is this mission giving you nerves or something?"

The unimpressed gaze you are met with is something you are all too familiar with, but to be fair, this was going to be how you coped with the fact that Dabi would be gone for months.

And you'd be virtually alone for months.

Months.

He sighs softly, before smirking. "Yes, you caught me," He begins in a monotone voice. "I'm so nervous I think I will die." You laugh, rolling your eyes.

"The great demon Dabi? Nervous? Now what a revelation!" You say dramatically. He barely laughs, but the sound that escapes him is clearly amused. "But I know you shall return, for you are my tormentor, and I can never escape this suffering!"

"Suffering? I’m hurt. I thought you were enjoying our time together, dear Y/N."

You barely manage to conceal the way your heart stutters at the way he says your name, and instead infuse more flair to counteract that damn fluttering. "Ah, but a demon can never know my delicate human heart, can the--"

The bell rings. But this time, the both of you know it is not for a mission. The comical atmosphere dissipates, and in it's place is something of the tension of heading into the unknown.

You feel Dabi's power spurring to life, breathing throughout the room, one last layer of protective spells, making you shudder. He smirks, noticing. "I guess it's time."

"I guess so," You say. You bite your lip, wondering if you should say it. To hell with it, you finally decide. "Be safe, Dabi."

Amusement sparkles in his eyes--when would you next see that beautiful turquoise hue? "I should be saying that to you, princess."

You only roll your eyes back at him and then, with a quick flare of heat, flames engulf his body before he poofs away, leaving you in his chambers, where it is suddenly dark and quiet and...

Lonely.

-

The first few days, even weeks, are fine. Magne and Compress never actually show up, but jugs of water and plates of food are on the table when you wake, and it's enough to last the whole day. You had given up being cautious, knowing that it wouldn’t matter if it was actually poisoned because without it, you’d die of starvation.

The boredom is the most dangerous part of it all, once you get past the paranoia, and when you get comfortable enough that you're not being watched, you start doing things you wouldn't normally do with Dabi around--for you've never trusted him after an embarrassing encounter of terrible vocals--, like dancing and singing and rolling around on the floor and tearing down the bed's canopy to create a smaller canopy, more closed in to make the chambers feel less empty and anything and everything to fight off the boredom, the nothingness.

But even all those miscellaneous activities grow tiresome after a while. There are books in Dabi's room--attained after you had expressed a desire to him about reading--but though you are not the fastest reader, having nothing else to do meant that you spent most of your time reading and soon, all the books were read, and reread. And reread. And though you would have killed for more, you sure weren’t going to ask Magne or Compress for some, nor did you know how to anyway.

You keep track of the days, but when you see that only a month has gone by, you deflate in frustration, kicking the air and screaming into your pillow--something you were prone to doing lately.

"You are so slow, hurry up and come back," You mumble, rubbing your eyes as sleep once again evades you. 

But then your mind wanders to dangerous territory; scenarios and thoughts of your wishes being fulfilled but in the worst ways possible--he comes back dead, he comes back in pieces, he comes back changed--

You bolt upright in the bed, eyes shut as you shake your head vigorously enough that it aches. 

No. No.

He was going to come back. Alive. Unhurt. The same Dabi as before. You two would return to playful banter, he would tell you what he had gotten up to outside, and you would tell him what you had done (admittedly, nothing much, but with enough thought you’re sure you can exaggerate enough), and then all would be fine because he’s back and he’s Dabi--frustratingly cocky Dabi.

You sigh, hand on your chest as the beating slows down. 

But when you open your eyes to the dark chambers--chambers that suddenly don’t feel as comfortable and homely as before--you’re only reminded of your solitude.

He’s not here.

No one is.

No one but you and the creeping shadows slithering up the bed.

Only you don’t know that, and as you lie back down in the bed, resigned to another painful night, they make their way towards you. Slowly, lazily, stealthily.

You are already sleeping when they converge. 

-

Demons don’t need to sleep, but to pass the time it’s sure as hell useful.

The mission itself is not so tiresome as when he is not doing anything. And now, with all the pieces into place, he just had to wait a few more days until that pathetic Knight came back with what he needed.

Dabi could maintain an illusion a fair while, but nothing to the extent of keeping it up all night as well as protection charms for whichever inn he’d choose to stay in and that’s not to mention keeping up the charms on his chambers back at the castle. To put simply, he’d rather go a few nights deep in the cave he’d found than risk it.

It’s too bad; the forest it’s in is unnervingly quiet. Not for the fact that it scares him--he’s a demon, what could possibly scare him--but for the thoughts that invade his mind like parasites. 

Thoughts of you.

He clenches his jaw as whispers flash through his head. 

But Dabi can’t delude himself. Not with that stupid hope or fairy tale morals he’d been raised to believe. He can’t repeat “you are safe” over and over because he knows that to do that would only lead to disappointment in the event that… you are not. 

That something had happened to you.

That you were gone.

That he had left you to suffer.

That--

Flames ignite in the cave he’s in, licking at his body enough to sting--it always stings, a price he’d had to pay among others--but he ignores it, getting up and walking out.

The forest is quiet.

His mind is loud.

To shut one up, he’d have to make the other speak.

No, roar.

Well, it isn’t too bad.

This kingdom hit too close to home anyway, and if Dabi wasn’t so good at keeping his past a secret he’d think Shigaraki put him here on purpose. If the flames make it to the pearly white castle with the red rooftops, it wasn’t any sort of loss. 

(Not the princess or the princes inside, not the queen lost in her own head, and most of all, not the red haired fire king himself.)

The flames aren’t just stinging anymore. They hurt. His skin prickles, more than prickles, the staples straining to keep him, literally, together. 

But Dabi pushes on, blocking it out, all of it.

Even the voice that sounds too much like you screaming in his head.

-

There is so much fire.

It is everywhere. 

Blue blue blue in your vision, blinding you, taking you under, forcing you to feel a heat that does not touch you.

There is no escape. You can’t breathe. Your throat is dry but your skin is wet with sweat. Oh if only it is water instead. Water to cool, to soothe, to heal.

Not you, but Dabi.

You had tried. You had tried so desperately to stop him as the flames kept moving, kept hurting him. Him, and not you. 

At first, you had thought this was a dream. Strangely vivid, the surroundings unrecognizable yet the breath of the cool night sky in the quiet forest familiar. 

But then you had seen Dabi as he emerged from the cave, standing in such surprise that you had tripped, face burning because you had been so, so sure you would hear a laugh, followed by a taunt or a tease. You had been just waiting to retort one back, something along the lines of “downgrade much?” because your mind was whirring. 

You were there. Wherever there was, but most importantly, you were with Dabi. And after weeks and weeks of loneliness, solitude, isolation, nothing made you happier.

But instead you were met with silence and suddenly--

Fire.

Everywhere. 

Only it did not hurt you. And not in the way you were familiar with, not in the way you hadn’t been hurt those weeks and weeks ago in that damp, cold dungeon, not in the way you knew. 

It wasn’t there.

You weren’t there.

It was only a dream.

Or so you thought.

But now you don’t think that. This is not so much a dream, but the work of something and now you understand just what those cold tendrils had been that had gripped your body, jolting you awake not into your bed but here. Not cold at all, but something else.

It is not a dream, but you are not with Dabi, either. Instead, you watch as the flames devour all in his path. Your heart races, unsure of what is happening.

Demon. Dabi is a demon.

You knew that. You know that. 

Only now it is so much more closer, the true implications of it dawning on you as the flames drew ever nearer to the distant castle you see past the trees. Red and blue flags fluttering manically, the eternal glow of the powerful king’s fire alight. 

It is nothing compared to Dabi’s blue.  

And though you know you cannot be hurt now, your body instinctively seeks escape--shelter from this inferno.

But there is blue everywhere--

Everywhere except for Dabi himself. The only relief in the blue hell. Your only relief from the flames, and from the solitude that had hurt you for so long. 

So you walk towards him, pushing past the way the flames feel as though they beat you back, the human instinct to run and scream and curl up, the terror of his flames that fights with something else inside, something that pulls you to Dabi in ways you can’t admit, won’t admit. At least, not yet. 

He doesn’t move, merely lets his power do all the work for him, but when you approach, you see he is moving. He is shaking. With something, you do not know what. Rage, most likely (But the shaking is not that of uncontrollable rage, and you know that because you know that shaking yourself--felt it, experienced it as you had once stood helpless and alone in a faraway throne room as a voice that did not belong to you determined your fate).

You reach out to him, whispering his name before remembering that you aren’t really there, only his eyes crack open and in them--in them you see it.

Pain.

Desperate, hidden behind the thick veil of pure rage as he glares at the castle, but it is a veil nonetheless and when you know how to slide it aside, you can see through.

And you start to wonder just what it is, or was, that makes him look at those symbols with those emotions. And you realise…

You barely know him at all. Nothing of his past, nothing besides the nonchalantly arrogant demon Dabi you knew. Nothing. And it suddenly hurts, because you had told him so much of your life, but you had never noticed just how much he had not. So caught up in your own situation that you remember--

Dabi had been human once, too.

Demons were not born of nothing. Demons were the creations of humanity, after all. When one was hungry enough to seek forbidden sources… or when one was desperate enough to seek an escape.

He stumbles and you reach to catch only to flow right through up; your arms separating as though water, through his steaming body, the staples breaking and cracking, the skin red hot.

He’s folding under his own power and you freeze. Realisation falling upon you.

He’s going to die. It’s too much for him--even a demon like him. These sort of flames are not made of this world, are not meant to exist in this plane of existence. 

“Stop,” You whisper. “Stop. Dabi. Stop. Stop it.” Every word increases in panic, in worry and volume but nothing you say or cry or scream gets to him. You are powerless in this realm of--of whatever or wherever this is.

“Powerless for you are human.”

The voice startles you but though you twist and turn, wondering where it comes from, you already know. 

“Pathetic. Fragile. Useless.”

It comes from yourself. A voice, a tendril of something deeper and darker, speaking. 

“You believe you can do anything, but you cannot. A human can do nothing for one like that.”

Frustration builds up, those feelings of helplessness you had felt all these past weeks--all your life--, building up up up--

You snap at the voice. “Then help him yourself.” Against all better, rational judgement, for this is the voice of a force you both know of and do not. The voice of that darkness that belonged to the ones who sought it.

It laughs, lowly, menacingly. “Why should I? That is a creation of something else. I shall not touch it, least of all help it.”

You speak before you understand the words coming out. “Then how can I?”

“You can’t.” The answer you knew before you heard it. But it is not the answer you want. “Not as you are now.”

You aren’t sure if that is the answer you want, either. 

(But deep inside, you know what it means, you know you know you know how this will end, if it will at all.)

“What is your answer?”

Your stomach twists. You tremble at the thoughts flying past--thoughts that are so forbidden, so unforgivable and yet they are there and that counts for something.

You know the answer. You know your answer. To save him, and yourself.

But if there is one thing Dabi taught you, it is that the words of demons could be disasters hidden behind paradise, half-lies behind half-truths, a facade to show you what you expected when what you really received was harsh realities. Oaths. They are all about oaths.

Demons couldn’t lie, but they could manipulate.

But, away from your home kingdom like you are now, you are still a princess. An heir, as abandoned as you are; raised to see past the deceptively sweet flattery of courtiers, the tricks behind contracts, the lies of anyone and everyone around you. 

Raised to rule with steel determination and your own fire. 

“What is the question?”

And you stop shaking.

-

The mission is over. Finally.

Dabi resists the relief that threatens to rise through his mask of boredom. For two reasons; one, his face still hurts where the staples had torn through, and two, he can’t be too excited to come back. 

Especially when Spinner and Twice wait outside, something in their eyes that makes him slow, looking down at them. “What’s this? A welcoming party?”

Twice chops a hand down. “Sure is! No, it’s a warning party!” The bells had already been ringing in his mind, but this time they blast out. Something is wrong.

Spinner sighs, giving him a scathing look, the lizard always seeming to think he was better, more focused or moral or whatever, than all of them when he was still, in the end, a demon too. “You’re supposed to give us the info.” They wait as Dabi examines them. After checking it is truly Twice and Spinner, he shrugs. He couldn't care less however the files get to Shigaraki. The boss will know who it came from, after putting him through that pain of a hell mission. 

What he really cares about is you. He’s not stupid. He knows something has happened, for them to be this tense, for the others to be waiting at all. 

He teleports away--poofing, as you’d call it, he recalls with a tight smile--but he is yanked backwards in the journey to his chambers, something pulling him away from it and leaving him outside, a few feet away from the doors.

His eyes harden.

He can’t go in.

Why. 

The thought is more statement than question. 

He feels their presence once everything quietens down--the panic, the helplessness of not knowing and not doing.

Compress and Magne stop by his side, but he knows their shields are up and knows they know he knows. They expected him, but the look in their eyes…

“What did you do?”

And Dabi isn’t sure what is louder. The static in his mind or the hiss of his ignited flames.

"What the hell did you do to her?"

(That line, said by a boy much younger than he is now, a boy who belonged to another life... who had failed to protect ones he loved most, just like how he was failing once more.)

Compress raises his arms in mock-surrender, as if that gesture would cause Dabi to direct his anger somewhere else. "We kept our side of the deal. We did nothing."

"She was a human living in the dens of demons." A voice speaks up from behind. Shigaraki. Dabi whirls around, blue flames rising but he knows better than to attack outright. "It was only natural that she would either die in the darkness..."

Flames roar and Dabi does not want to acknowledge the depth of how his heart leaps into his throat at the thought. 

But the grin on Shigaraki's face gives Dabi pause. There's something else. A calculating look in the boss' eyes. He did something else. 

And it must have furthered their plans in some way. He spins back around, expectant--of what, he does not know.

He hears the grin widen. "Or joined."

The shadows leaping around his chambers die out, just as quickly as it emerged, and there is an eerie silence as the four of them watch, waiting with bated breath (though Shigaraki looks almost bored and for that alone, for the way he cares nothing for your life, Dabi would have burnt him alive).

The doors do not open, but water leaks out from underneath. Magne mutters "interesting," underneath her breath as the water continues to pour out, and then gush out as the doors open but as soon as it does, it evaporates--though not by the work of Dabi's flames.

Shigaraki seems positively joyful, as joyful as he could be considering himself, as a figure emerges from inside.

Dripping wet.

No, not wet, for it is not the clothes or even the body itself that is drenched in water.

No, the body itself is water.

You are water.

Your body glitters, just like the sea, and with your every step waves crash into each other in the joints, calming where you still, but there is an ever-constant movement. Just like the sea.

And then you collapse. Collapse like a wave and your body is no longer a body and Dabi's heart stops because what does that mean--what does it mean? Only the water piles up together, slowly solidifying back into a body of flesh and blood, the translucency transforming into the colour of your skin, your features slowly coming back. Magne is the first to move, for she steps forward to drop her orange tunic over you, giving Dabi a disapproving look.

"Lend her your coat, why don't you?" She huffs, gesturing impatiently for him to come closer. 

He moves but Shigaraki says something that causes him to stop. "Aren't you glad?" He glances at him. "Now your human princess can truly join you." And then the slow, malicious grin is back. "Well, not human princess anymore. You'll have to explain, first. Her transformation was a culmination of a... variety of stressful factors."

Dabi is not so sure what that means, but the words do not go unregistered. He'll get to 'explaining' later; right now, you're clearly in need of help.

He wraps his coat around you, buttoning it without pushing your arms through before picking you up and glancing into his chambers to make sure that it isn't trashed--he does not know whether he would have been surprised if it was, because he was still surprised that it wasn't, besides the carpets being wet and squelching with every step.

He doesn't respond to the other two's words, not outwardly, as he places you down on the bed.

"For what it's worth, we did this to help you, and if you need it, we are sorry, Dabi," Magne says solemnly.

"But," Compress adds, reluctant and yet not, "You must admit that everything is now, much, much more easier. For the both of you. Even if it will take time to accept."

Dabi still doesn't respond, and the other two leave the room, Shigaraki giving them a satisfied nod before all three warp away, to other parts of the castle.

With a wave of his hand, he shuts the doors and reactivates the protective spells before truly taking a look at you.

You do not look changed. But, you are still sleeping, and perhaps the telltale sign of the demon mark is somewhere in your eyes, or maybe somewhere hidden behind his coat. Wherever it is, he cannot see it yet.

Dabi is not sure he wants to.

Because deep inside, he knows this is perhaps the most favourable outcome there was. Amidst you dying, or having to return to the humans--which was, admittedly, impossible for Shigaraki would have never let you leave--, this was probably the only outcome where you would have lived a satisfying life, after everything that had happened. A life you could spend with him, able to protect yourself. 

(And after all, how could a demon fall in love with a human? It was much more plausible for demons to fall in love with each other.)

He sighs, suddenly feeling almost exasperated, looking up to stretch his neck and shut his eyes briefly. He opens them, and when he looks back down at you, he speaks. "Honestly, princess, I leave for a few months and you go and do this." He chuckles. "Guess you really didn't need my protection after all."

You stir, slightly, and Dabi catches a glimpse of your skin swirling like waves again, almost unnerving for it still has the colour of your skin and for all intents and purposes, the look and texture of a human body. 

He smirks as your eyes open, blinking sleepily before settling on him (inside, hoping, hoping, that maybe you hadn't changed too much from his fierce princess to something else entirely).

"Care to explain just what the hell happened while I was gone?" 

You stare at him, shocked, opening your mouth to whisper croakily, “You’re alright.”

It’s not a question, but the look in your eyes makes him realise that whatever you had thought of him going out there hadn’t just been irrational panic, but something… something that you had feared.

That voice. The night he’d burned in that forest. That voice...

It had been you.

But he doesn’t let the shock show, doesn’t do anything but raise an eyebrow. “You know, Y/N, it’s rude to spy, even for a demon.”

And Dabi understands just why your answering groan and roll of your eyes clears all of his doubts and makes the world a little brighter.

You are still here.

And he hopes you always will be.

--

A/N: this is really late for anon - thank u!! you inspired me with the reader turning into a demon idea so hopefully you enjoyed!! i did write the first part last year tho, so um idk if i managed to keep the voice of the first part ahaha but still, thanks for reading 

#bnha dabi #dabi #dabi x reader #dabi imagines #dabi scenarios #bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #mha dabi #writing #my work #fantasy au #demon!dabi

[wwilloww]

SH. (they/them v.) | jjk

THIS VERSION IS WRITTEN WITH THEY/THEM PRONOUNS. YOU CAN READ WITH SHE/HER PRONOUNS HERE

PAIRING: Jungkook x Reader (they/them) ft. OT7

RATING: Explicit.

GENRE: NonIdol!Au. Wilderness!Au. f2l. Smut. Fluff.

WC: 6k

SUMMARY: How could you say no to a month away in the mountains with your friends after six months of grueling quarantine?

WARNINGS: YN is a cuddling fiend. Untimely boner. Handjob. Nipple play. Fingering. Unprotected sex. Size kink. Slight voyeurism. Power play. Dirty talk.

AN: This is a little bit of a test for a potentially longer series. So please please please tell me what you think, what you wanna see, what you think is going to happen!! 💕😉

This version is also a bit of a test. As someone who identifies with multiple pronouns and who has varying levels of comfort/discomfort reading certain reader insert depictions, this felt like the right thing to do with this story. I’m happy to hear your experience with it! 

THIS IS GOING TO BE FILTHY STRAIGHT DIRTY FILTH

BAD PLOT ALERT AHEAD

Thank you to @hauntedlilies​ and @hesperantha​ for being the most beautiful beta readers ever. And of course, millions of kisses and hugs and thanks to the loveliest @thatlongspringnight​ for going off a cliff with me last night and helping me to plan ahead.

next chapter ->

|| join the taglist || masterlist || read with she/her pronouns ||

©wwilloww Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without my permission.

Chapter One

“Shh, baby,” he whispers in your ear. “Do you really want them to hear?”

Still, you can’t help the little “Oh,” that slips from you when he drags his cock out of you oh so dangerously slow and then rams back in.

Each thrust pushes you up against the kitchen counter.

The rest of the boys are in the other room, the movie playing not quite loud enough, filling the space of the previously lazy Friday night.

God, he feels so fucking good inside you. And yet, you hadn’t meant it to happen like this.

You’d always said that summer was your favorite season. But as you watch the light begin to fade from the sky, baby blue transforming into gold flakes of light that whirl across the gravel road, you think you might just have to change your mind.

The light glows and flickers through the pine trees as your car climbs the final hill to your destination. You begin searching for the cabin, although it’s nowhere in sight.

It’s the first day of a season away in the mountains. Two weeks ago your roommate, Namjoon, had bumbled into your tiny city bedroom, and just stood there for a moment before asking if you liked the mountains.

“Sure I do,” you replied.

He grinned. “Would you ever want to live there?”

“I mean— yeah, but like, work and quarantine and—”  

“Aren’t you working from home?”

“Yeah.”

“And haven’t we been quarantined — more or less — for six months?”

“Yes…” you said slowly.

“Then if those are your only hesitations, it’s settled!”

You’d stood from your little bed at that point. “What are you on about Namjoon?”

“I got a house in the mountains.”

“You got a house? In the mountains?”

“Details, buddy, details. I’m going, for a month or two — but probably until the spring. And I’d love it if you came with me.”  

It was as simple as that.

An offer, presented and received.

Perhaps six months locked away in your tiny city apartment had done you a bit of good. Decisions which you once might have weighed against reasonability or responsibility seemed to fall away. Instead, you did what you needed to do and the rest was up to whim and will. In recent weeks, you noticed it in the smaller things too. Eating when hungry. Moving when restless. Searching out company — virtually or in the form of your very large, but not very cuddly roommate — when lonely.

So when Namjoon offered you a season spent away from the prison walls of your tiny shared apartment, there was no hesitation.

“It’s all taken care of,” he had said with a gentle shoulder nudge when you persistently bugged him about chipping in. “Don’t worry about it.”

And even better than that, Namjoon had somehow rounded up your friends — even Yoongi who no one could tear away from his studio equipment.

The boys had already spent a night up at the cabin while you wrapped up some things in the city, packed a duffle bag, and headed out towards the great, yawning wilderness.

You were excited to see them. Quarantine had left you with little opportunity to spend quality time with your friends, and after 6 months in isolation with your roommate you were socially starved, and frankly, touch starved too. Namjoon tolerated your morning hugs, but the two of you weren’t really on the same page in terms of sharing physical affection the rest of the time.

Still scanning the trees for a cute lil log cabin, your eyes widen in shock as a building comes into view.

This is no cabin.

Before you stretches a beautiful home, designed with a graceful balance of smooth stonework, warm wood, and modern glass. A long driveway winds up a gentle hill. Are you sure you put the right address in? You think as you pull up in front of the house. But through the windows, you can see Jimin standing, waving at you.

What the actual fuck.

You park the car at the foot of the stairs leading up to the house, unbuckle the food from the passenger seat (would you dare risk the safety of Jungkook’s dinner?), and ascend the stairs. The door before you stands twice your height. Wrought iron vines tangle across a warm, dark wood. Just as you’re about to attempt to knock with your elbow, the door swings open.

“Baby!! You made it!”

You’re barely in the door, arms full of takeout, when he comes to wrap around you. It’s like all the time between you has washed away, replaced by the laughter bubbling through your chest. It’s been months since you saw your friend, months since you were held like this. It’s so easy to melt into his touch.

“Not your baby,” you correct, although you smile at the embrace.

“Not yet,” Hoseok teases back. “You know I would give you exactly what you need.”

“Is that a proposition?”

“I’m always propositioning you, it seems.”

You twist around to properly raise your brow at your teasing friend.

“Mhmm, seems like it.”

He winks at you, a playful smile teasing at his features. He bends down to press a kiss to the curve of your shoulder and kind of sways you back and forth. You stumble a bit, still carrying the heavy bags of food, but he holds tight to you anyways.

“Is this all you brought?” Hobi murmurs against you. “Just food? For the whole week? No clothes?”

You laugh. “My bags are in the car. I just figured you all would want to get your greedy little paws in some dinner first.”

“You brought food?” Jungkook peaks his head in from the living room.

“You didn’t think I would forget, did you?”

“You always know exactly how to take care of us, don’t you?” Jungkook comes to grab the three bags of takeout from your hands while Hobi still clings to your back like a koala.

“C’mon, Hobi, lemme go.”

As soon as the words leave you though, you regret it. He loosens his grip on you and the cool wash of the autumn air washes in through the still-open door behind you, replacing the warmth of his touch.  

“Promise you’ll be my cuddle buddy during the movie?”

“Course.”

How could you say no?

Perhaps that’s exactly where it all started. With them, there was nothing you wanted to say no to.

After a boisterous dinner, dishes being passed to and fro, jokes being shouted above the racket, more than one glass of wine downed — you all slump on the couches, full and exhausted and content.

“Movie?” Jungkook suggests, one leg thrown over you as you lean into Taehyung’s chest. He strokes your hair gently and you swear you could fall asleep like this, blissed out and wrapped in his arms.

“PJs first,” Jin declares from the kitchen, emerging as he wipes his hands with a dishtowel.

“Ugh, thank god,” you groan, sitting up from the couch.

“I can’t believe you’re wearing jeans,” Jungkook laughs. “What kind of world do you think you’re living in?”

“Obviously one where we put effort into our appearance,” Jimin sings, eyeing Jungkook’s oversized holey t-shirt and sweatpants combo.

“Fine,” Jungkook says. “I’ll change.”

“Where, uh, where should I change?”  

“Bedroom?” Yoongi cuts in, not even removing his eyes from his phone screen.

“Oh!” Jimin claps his hands together, turning back to face you. “We saved the best for you. Well, for you and Hobi.”

“Hm?”

“The master suite. There weren’t enough beds — and we figured a king-sized bed for two would be better than the couch for one?”

Hobi chips in: “Unless, of course, you’re uncomfortable, in which case I’ll sleep on the—”

“No, no, no.” You shake your head, stopping him in his tracks. “Nothing wrong with a lil more warmth in the world.”

“Good,” Jimin nods. “We figured putting the two of you cuddle freaks together anyways would be best for our sanity too.”

You sling the duffle bag you left waiting by the front door over your shoulder and follow your friend down a long glass hallway. The night has painted the exterior dark, but as you look down, you realize that the glass above and on either side of you is also beneath you. You’re walking over a bottomless bridge, the swirling darkness beneath you seeming to reach up towards you.

A squeal escapes you and you lunge forward, grasping onto Hobi’s arm.

“Shit!” You basically drag him forward, refusing to let go of him but desperate to get off of the glass floor. He chuckles at you but complies.

“Don’t worry, I got you. I freaked the first time too.”

He wraps you up again in his arms and more or less waddles you forward to where the hardwood begins again.

“See? All safe!”

Heat floods your cheeks as you look back down the long glass hallway.

“It looks a little less terrifying on the other side of it,” you sheepishly admit.

Hoseok chuckles and tugs you forward. You enter a large bedroom. Atop a large platform sits an extra large white bed with throws and pillows. You drop your bag and sprint towards the bed, launching yourself so that you land square in the center.

“Ah,” you sigh, taking what you think might be your first deep breath of the day. You spread your arms and legs out as if about to make snow angels. You prop your head up and take a look around the room while Hobi pads over to a large closet where he seems to already have unpacked.

The room is surrounded on two sides by entirely glass walls. The light that spills from the lamps that have already been lit makes it so beyond the walls, everything looks pitch black. Lush, fluffy carpets are scattered around the room, and in the corner is a small personal library, a little couch, and an armchair. And in the very center of the room is what you can only imagine to be an indoor fire pit.

Hobi throws a t-shirt in your face, breaking you from your thoughts.

“Get changed, slowpoke. I’ll take the bathroom.”

While Hobi changes in the bathroom you pull on the large t-shirt he threw at you and a pair of sleep shorts. While you wait on him, you scroll through your phone.

“Do you know what lies behind this door?” Hobi calls from the bathroom.

“What? No? Isn’t it a bathroom?”

“J-Hope’s hot body!” Your jaw drops before you are letting your phone fall to the mattress beneath you and laughing hysterically. He peeks his head out the door. He’s not wearing a shirt and you swallow quickly as you graze over the soft slope of his shoulders and the chiseled valley of his collar bones.  “Aren’t you curious?”

You quickly right yourself.

“Course I’m curious!” you laugh. “Who wouldn’t be curious?”

He grins at you. Sends you a wink.

“All you gotta do is ask, babe.”

“Get dressed, dummy.”

“Dummy that you love,” Hoseok corrects.

“Yes, my beloved little dummy.”

You wave him off and, taking your phone, head out back to the living room.

Jungkook plops down on the couch where he was before, next to you. You’re not sure if you’re hallucinating after so many months apart from your friends, but it seems like he’s hovering. He sat next to you at dinner. Insisted on you staying in the kitchen while he washed the dishes to chat with him. He was waiting for you in the glass hallway too after you had changed, leaning casually as if he had just stumbled in — but other than the master suite, there was nothing on the other side of the bridge. He had been waiting for you.

“I missed you,” he says, a soft smile spreading over his features.

“I missed you too.”

“It’s been weird not having everyone around all the time—”

“--Too quiet.”

“Exactly.”

Your impulse is to ask him where he’s been, what he’s done — but you know. The eight of you have kept in touch regularly over quarantine. Your group chat, while filled with memes, has kept all of you updated on your daily routines for the past six months. You know where he’s been all these months, what he’s done, and yet there is still a new kind of distance.

You think he feels it too because he’s soon opening his arms, inviting you. You crawl over the couch to him and he wraps his limbs around you, cocooning you in a strange but nonetheless comfortable position.

As you sigh and settle into his embrace, you realize he feels like a new man.

There is a quiet kind of confidence to him that you hadn’t noticed before. An ability to sit still and silently and find comfort in that.

God, it’s sexy.

What? Your eyes shoot open at the thought. But before you can do anything about it, Hobi is tripping into the living room. His smile falters when he sees you and Jungkook all wrapped up.

“They promised—”

“I know,” you groan, sitting up from Jungkook. He frowns at the loss of contact. “Come ‘ere.” You reach your arms out towards Hoseok, but instead of joining you and Jungkook he hooks his arms around you and pulls you into his chest as he sits down.

“Like a little ragdoll,” Jungkook chuckles.

“I’m not a doll,” you huff, only upset at just how easy Hobi was able to haul your body across the couch.

“A little bit of a doll.”

Hobi wraps his arms around you as you lean back into him. You’d always end up like this with the young man, one of the two wrapped around the other. It was well known that out of all of your friends, the two of you were the most touchy. However, sometimes it seemed like more than that, as the two of you almost always gravitated towards each other in any group setting. It was just as simple as that. Hobi was by your side, no matter what.

The others come to settle into the living room, setting up in various levels of absolute exhaustion, tangled limbs, or apathy.

Namjoon scrolls through a couple of movies before settling on a title with lots of cars and noise.

The movie starts. Fast and Furious blares through the speakers, startling you slightly. One of those fancy, high-paced car movies. Despite the blasting of stuttering ignitions and roaring of top speed chases, you quickly find yourself drifting off, wrapped in the warmth of Hobi’s embrace.

A particularly loud car engine roars through the speaker and you startle awake.

Jungkook is stretched out lazily, one leg on the sofa, the other leg on the floor. As your eyes trail down his body — collarbone peeking out from his far too large t-shirt, forearms somehow still perfectly defined — you gasp softly when you see what’s tenting in his pants.

Fuck.

He has a boner. Between the thick spread of his thighs, the outline of his more than girthy cock presses up against the fabric of the grey sweatpants. He has a boner from a car chase.

He seems unbothered, unaware, even. You, however, are anything but.

Involuntarily, your mouth begins to water. The shock of seeing him like this reels through you. All you can think of is what it would be like to lean forward just enough, hands sliding up the hard muscle of his tights until your fingertips reached the elastic band of his waist. You wanted to dip your fingers underneath, wrap your hand around the thick girth of him, and lower your lips perfectly around the pink head. You want to sit on that cock, feel the way he fills you up and stretches you so—-

Jungkook catches your gaze. Heat rises to your face, a mix of embarrassment and arousal. As he takes you in, he smiles a little bit and lets his hand tral down his torso to fiddle with the band of his sweatpants.

Fuck.

You can’t be here. Can’t be imagining these kinds of things. Before you can think of what you’re doing, you’re rolling off of Hobi, a sound of question resonating from his chest.

“I’ll be right back,” you mumble, tripping out of the living room and around the corner to the kitchen.

What the actual fuck. What is wrong with you?

You can’t stop the images that flood your mind. Jungkook, towering above you, while you kneel at his feet, cock framed so perfected by your pouted lips.

All you want is to slip underneath the thick duvet of your bed and press the soft silicon head of your vibrator against your clit, working away at the unbearable tension that has built within you until you come. That’s not an option though, as you know tonight you’ll be climbing into bed with Hobi and the glee you first felt when being paired with your favorite cuddle buddy is now entirely by your frustration.

Head spinning, you grab your phone and begin to type into an empty message box.

This dude has a fucking boner, and all I can think of is stuffing it down my fucking THROAT.

What? Who are you going to text that to? Not Hobi, that’s for sure. And you’re sure your friends back home will simply shake their head at your message and respond with a series of question marks.

You shake your phone to delete the message and set it down on the counter. Turning your back, you head to the sink to pour yourself a big glass of water. Maybe some damn hydration will do something to quench this thirsty ass bitch, you think.

The water helps a little, and you gulp it down greedily.

Still, it's as if the image of Jungkook’s fat cock has been burned in the back of your mind.

You sigh and put the glass back down by the sink, looking out the bay window that sprawls over the counter.

You’ve never seen darkness quite like this. Without the lights of the city and with a new moon singing in the sky it seems as if the only light in your little world is that which shines from the house. All that you can really see is the vague silhouette of the mountains surrounding you and your own reflection. God, if only Jungkook were behind you, ramming into you at his own pleasure while you watched the reflection of him chasing his orgasm—

“Who’s cock are you wanting to shove down your throat?”

You freeze, hands curling into fists on the countertop.

“What?” you barely manage to breathe. Slowly, you turn.

Jungkook is standing at the entrance to the kitchen, your still-lit phone sitting on the countertop.

Without considering what you’re doing, your eyes flicker down to the still-prominent bulge in his pants. The gaze lasts only a moment. Half a second tops. It’s long enough to notice the way he strains so deliciously against the soft grey fabric of his sweatpants, the head of his cock clearly outlined against the material. And it’s also long enough for Jungkook to catch exactly where you’re looking.

“Wh— oh.” His lips purse perfectly around the vowel, understanding dawning.

Your mind chugs at hyperspeed, clunking through no reasonable explanation to offer a Jungkook who just very clearly caught you checking his dick out — the same dick you were just about to send a very steamy text about.

“I—” Your voice trails off into nothingness as you grip even tighter to the counter behind you. What is there to say?

“You?” Jungkook raises an eyebrow and takes a step towards you, a smirk playing on his features. “Hm?” His voice has dropped, resonating deep through you, any trace of questioning erased from his tone. “You saw my cock and the first thing you think is to text your friends about how you want to stuff it down your throat?”

“No?”

“So it was a joke then?”

“No, no!” You begin to say Not a joke, I wouldn’t joke about that — but you stop yourself before the damning words can slip your mouth.

He tilts his head to the side, just a bit, and comes to lean against the island, several feet away from you. You can’t help but suck in a deep breath at the divine swirl of playfulness and danger in his gaze. He notes your tight grip on the counter, knuckles turning white.

“I’m not mad at you. A little surprised. Pleasantly so.”

“Pleasantly?”

“It’s a pretty little compliment to have someone you like wanna suck your dick.”

Your eyes widen. “Like?”

He speaks your name slow with a hint of boredom in his voice. “Seriously?”

“Seriously what?”

Jungkook smiles softly at you. “Sometimes you can be so blind.”

“I am not blind,” you huff, crossing your arms over each other.

“For certain things,” he smirks, “It seems you can see just just fine.”

He steps closer to you.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean — I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, I —”

“I’m not uncomfortable in the slightest.”

“You’re not?”

You look up at him. There’s something dark, deep swirling in his gaze, and that playful smirk you know all too well dancing in the corner of his lips.

“I just want to know why.”

“I mean—” He raises his eyebrow at you. “It’s been a really long and lonely time in quarantine. Can you blame me?” Rather than bringing closure to the situation, every word you speak only seems to heighten your anxiousness, your speech speeding up, words falling over one another. “Y’all are so fucking hot and I forgot! I forgot, okay! I forgot how to regulate my goddamn libido and my thoughts and forgot what it’s like to be fuc—”

You slap you hand over your mouth.

“You forgot what it’s like to be fucked?” Jungkook laughs.

You pout a little. “Don’t laugh at me!”

“I’m not laughing,” he chortles. He is laughing. “I’m just—” he takes a deep breath to steady himself. “--just thinking that I know exactly what you mean and I — you know,”  His hand glides up his chest to rub at his collar bone. His signature nervous tick. He’s still laughing, only nervously now. “You know. You know?”

“What?”

He takes a deep breath. Closes his eyes for a moment. You watch as his chest rises, falls, eyelashes fluttering open again. Suddenly he’s leaning in, both hands on either side of you.

“If it’s a lie—”

“If what’s a lie?”

His nervousness is quickly replaced with the playful smirk you’re so familiar with. “Did you mean it when it was a joke or when you said you wanted to — what was it? — stuff your throat with my cock?”

You gulp.

Now or never, babe.

Quickly, before you can doubt it, you nod.

He grins.

“I have a proposition then.”

“First Hobi, now you?”

“What? What did Hobi say?”

“Nothing — forget it.”

“Okay…” His brow furrows.

“Forget it,” you repeat.

The two of you stare at each other for a moment, reading each other’s gaze, trying to calculate exactly what the next step is. Surprisingly, you’re the first one to act, reaching out until your fingertips find the soft cotton of his t-shirt. You twist your fingers into it, not pulling him towards you by any means, but still, pushing him on.

“Proposition me,” you say, the nervousness gone from your voice.

His brows shoot up in surprise, but your gentle touch and the confidence in your voice seems to spur him onwards. “Well,” he starts slowly. “Considering you’re half the reason I’m even in this position—” He steps forward, just enough that you can feel his hardness press into your belly. He puts both hands on the counter on either side of you and leans into you. “I say we just sort this out here and now.”

“What are you saying?” you tease, twisting the fabric of his shirt into your hand, pulling him closer.

“I’m saying, let me fuck you.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yes.”

“Yes.” He’s so close that when he speaks, his breath brushes against your lips. “Are you going to let me kiss you?”

“Mhmm,” you hum against him.

He dives in like a starving man, lips pressing hard against yours. His hands begin on your side and slide around to press into your lower, back, pressing you tightly against him.

“Here?”

“Why not?”

You grin.

Your hands begin to trail down his torso, fingers tracing the outline of his abs, which, you think in passing, are far too defined to be real after six months of quarantine without gym access. You reach the band of his sweatpants and don’t hesitate to dip underneath.

Fingers trace over bare skin and you’re surprised to find — he’s not wearing any boxers at all. Your heart rate picks up as you realize he’s been walking around all evening, cock hanging free beneath nothing but a thin layer of grey sweatpants.

Just by pulling slightly at the band of his sweatpants, the head of his cock pokes up, caught between the fabric and his torso. With a wink, you push Jungkook back just enough so that he steps back a couple of paces, moving until his back hits the wall.

“Can I touch you?” you ask sweetly.

He nods, furiously. Reaching down to wrap your fingers delicately around his length, your eyes widen as you realize just how large he is.

Your hand barely even wraps around the girth of him.

His eyes flutter as your grip tightens around him.

“Shit,” he breathes.

Ever so slowly, ever so lightly you begin to stroke up and down the silky skin of his shaft. You watch as pleasure flickers across his face — always transparent, always easy to read. You’d always admired that about him, how he wore his emotions for the world to see. But getting to see the pleasure you caused, you created, worn on his delicate features is nothing like anything you’d ever experienced before.

With a slight twist of your wrist, you have him exhaling sharply.

“Jesus fucking christ, it’s a whole new world with someone else’s hand.”

You begin to drop to your knees, wanting to take him into your mouth. But he’s quick to stop you, hands coming to grip your elbow.  

“Fuck,” he hisses. “It’s been too long— if you keep going like that I’m not going to last very long.” He pulls you back up towards him.

You frown at him, almost comically.

“I promise you’ll have another opportunity to suck my dick,” he chuckles, reaching up to pinch your chin. “That is, if you want to do this again.” He presses his lips to yours and your frown is quickly disappearing as he now takes his turn to trail a hand down from your chin. You shiver as he skates around your chest, as he brushes up against your hardened nipples, protruding through your worn-out sleep shirt.

“Stop teasing me,” you whisper, and he grins at you.

“Am I moving too slow?”

“Torturously sl—” Your speech is cut off as he takes a clothed nipple between his fingers and twists, just enough. Your back arches into his touch, and before you know what’s happening, he’s slipping an arm around your lower back and twirling you around so that suddenly it’s you against the cold marble of the island, Jungkook pressing into you.

He kisses you furiously, lips moving against yours as if he’s searching for something.

“What about the others?” you whisper against him.

“What about them?” Jungkook’s hand traces down your torso and comes to tease the band of your sleep shorts. He looks at you, brow raised — a question of permission. You nod, bring your hand down atop his, and guide it underneath your shorts. “I asked you a question,” he says, as his fingers finally dip into your wetness. He slides one finger along your folds. The touch is delicate but the shock of the sensation has you arching into him.

“More, please,” you gasp.

He circles your entrance with a firm touch, before slipping one finger into you. You do your best not to wantonly grind down onto his hand, but you can’t help your hips as they buck up into him when he curls his finger. It’s still not enough though.

“I asked you a question.”

“Kook— please.”

“Answer and I’ll give you exactly what you want. What about the others?” Your mouth gapes open as he adds a second finger and hooks them both against that delicious soft spot within you, so he continues for you. “Do you want them to know I have you underneath me like this? Hm? Do you want them to see you so fucked out with the smallest amount of touch?”

You whimper at his words, but manage to speak, “Right now, just want you.”

He grins. Leans close, right up against your ear and whispers:

“Then why don’t you do your best and stay quiet like a good girl?”

Your mouth drops open at the term of endearment just in time for him to begin thrusting his fingers in and out of you. You bite down on your lip to stop the squeal that threatens to break loose from you.

“God you look perfect,” he whispers. “You fall apart so easily.”

“Mmf,” is all you manage to get out.

And then, all of a sudden, his fingers are ripped out of you and all you feel is empty, sensation lost, the trails of pleasure disappearing as fast as sand through the gaps in your fingers.

“Jungko—”

He silences you by crushing his lips against you. His arms come to wrap around your back and he presses you tight against him. You can feel his erection against your lower belly and you can’t help but push back against it. He groans into your mouth.

“I need you,” he groans.

“Please,” you speak against his lips.

“Yeah?” he kisses the corner of your mouth before kissing and biting down your chin and onto your neck. He keeps one hand at your lower back, keeping you as close to him as he can, the other, coming down to cup your now dripping sleep shorts. He ruts against you, erection pressing lightly into your stomach. “Does this pretty pussy want my cock?”

“God, yes.”

“I need to fuck you. And I need you to stay very quiet so that the others don’t walk in here while my cock is inside of you.” He pulls away from you just enough grap your ass, lifting you onto the island counter. His strength is surprising, but you don’t mind being a little manhandled.

He pulls your sleep shorts to the side, grips his cock, and presses the head to your entrance. You try to slide forward on the counter, try to hook your leg around his back so as to press him into you, but instead he just stays there.

“What a needy little one,” Jungkook growls. And with that, he finally presses into you, his eyes so carefully trained on your every expression.

The smallest of ohs slips from you as he finally bottoms out.

“Fuck, you sound so sweet on my cock.”

You didn’t think that you would break your quarantine chastity in a mountain chalet kitchen with your friend’s cock stuffed deep inside you. You wouldn’t have imagined it would have been Jungkook either — that’s not to say you hadn’t imagined it.

But looking at him, his eyes closed in satisfaction as he finally takes his pleasure — this is all you want.

Throwing your leg around his lower back, you push him further into you. He lets his head fall onto your shoulder, breathing the slightest of groans into your skin.

You continue like that, moving desperately against each other, frantically searching for the pleasure that has been missing for so many months.

And then he’s pulling out of you, lifting you oh-so lightly off of the counter and turning you around. With a hand pressing down on your lower back, your back arches deliciously, ass presented just for him.

He grips his cock tightly in his hand, and runs the head of it through your folds. He presses against your clit and you suck in a breath as he begins to tease you. In response, you roll your hips back at him and he hisses, gripping your hip even tighter.

Finally, he nudges the head of his cock at your entrance and pushes in.

It starts to slip out of you before you can stop it. A long whine, high pitched and needy.

“Shh, baby,” he whispers in your ear. “Do you really want them to hear?”

Still, you can’t help the little huff that slips from you when he drags his cock out of you oh so dangerously slow and then rams back in.

Each thrust pushes you up against the kitchen counter. The rounded pressure, though a little painful, only sparkes a deeper desire in your belly.

“Fuck, Jungkook,” you whisper.

The rest of the boys are still in the other room, the movie playing not quite loud enough, filling the space of the previously lazy Friday night.

And then he slows. Just enough that he can roll his hips into you at a torturously controlled pace, his cock reaching deeper, more sensitive areas than before.

As if he know what you’re going to do, he wraps his hand around your mouth, stopping your moan in its tracks.

“Do you really want them to know just how desperate you are for cock?” You can hear the smirk in his voice. His hand is so big it covers almost half your face. You imagine his tattoos covering you. This is exactly how you’d like to wear him, his cock deep inside you, his tattoos on beautiful display. “Because tonight, you’re just mine.”

Using the hand he has around your mouth and the other one he has pressed against your belly as leverage, he fucks up into you, hard and fast. The pace is punishing, and exactly what you need.

And just as you feel the pleasure building in your belly begin to climb, dangerously hot and searing you hear:

“What the fuck.”

There’s a figure standing in the doorway, mouth gaping.

Jungkook freezes. Doesn’t withdraw though, his cock still stuffed deep inside you.

“I—” You begin to speak but he raises his hands and you stop dead in your tracks, not sure what you would say anyways.

“By all means, please — don’t let me stop you,” Jimin says.  

next chapter ->

[leagueofidiots]

I'm great at keeping us occupied at least

Heya, so I had a rough Thanksgiving and started that draft I've talked about...after certain things happening I no longer really want to work on it anymore, but enjoy what used to be a good concept! Still can't do the "keep reading" thing, sorry

No trigger warnings, just know this is after my NaNoWriMo, but you can read it without context just fine. Some Shigadabi and Magnetmagic, but nothing huge

"Everybody pack up your crap, we need to drive up to Sapporo," says Shigaraki, laying Father over his face.

"Why can't Kurogiri just take us? And why do we have to go anyway?" Toga groans.

"He's not feeling well, so I don't want to overwork his quirk. We're going because I said so."

Twice lowers the bottom half of his mask to cover his mouth. "Whatever you say, boss!" He begins shoving various things into a knapsack. "I just wanna lay around and do nothing!"

Dabi slowly gets off of his bar stool. "Oi, creep, you know I get car sick, right?"

"What?" He continues placing hands over his upper body. "Since when?"

"Since I made a slightly large turn. Personally, I think he just likes whining," says Spinner, nose pointed up to the air.

"Well we just won't make any 'slightly large turns' then." Kurogiri gives him a sideways glance, but Tomura promptly ignores him. "Toga, I'm serious. Get up. You're not getting out of this."

Magne pulls up the younger girl by the arm. "Who's driving? I'll have to take a pass, I don't have a license."

"You're in your thirties, how do you not have a licence?" asks Twice, standing at the door like an eager boy scout.

"My parents took mine when I got my pronouns and name changed, and then I committed two murders. That sort of eliminated the option." 

"Oh." He shrinks sheepishly. "Well, I'd say they had it coming then. Murder is not a good way to solve your problems, Kenji!"

She shrugs. "I have Pringles, you think I should bring them?"

Compress grins, debating between his masks. "Oh, absolutely. I would still like to know our business in Sapporo though, Shigaraki. It could affect what I wear."

"Well, I'm hoping to avoid the public once we're up there, so bring one of the ones you can stuff in your bag."

Dabi looks at his boss in disgust. "Really? We're stuffing things in bags, and you're bringing all fourteen of your corpse hands?"

"You say that like you're not a walking chunk of rotting barbeque as is, player two."

The black-haired villain shrugs. "Fair enough. Just don't make me carry the bag or anything."

"So can I drive?" asks Suichi eagerly, trying to get back on topic. "I really love feeling the power of a car under my hands."

"If you've already made Dabs blow chunks, I don't think that's a great idea," says Toga, digging knives out from under the couch cushions.

Spinner pouts. "Fine."

Kurogiri finishes a drink he'd made for himself, and looks around at his murder babies. "Is everyone all packed? I am sorry I couldn't make us a warp gate."

"It's no prob, Kuro, we all feel under the weather sometimes," says Jin, back to looking like he's waiting for Disneyland and not a sixteen hour drive from Yokohama to Sapporo. "I blame you for my suffering."

"We're all packed," says Atsuhiro loudly, finally placing a mask over his face. "Which car are we taking?"

Over the past several weeks, the league had stolen a lot of cars. Toga said a crime that took such thought and planning was basically pointless, but Jin liked hotwiring cars, so what else was there to do? So the league now had five vehicles, including a baby blue minivan, a pink bug, an orange pickup truck, another minivan (this one white, it was Tomura's favorite), and a bright green sports car. Compress had them stored as marbles in one of his coat pockets.

"The minivan," says Shigaraki, grin creeping past Father's fingers. "You know which one. And I'm driving."

"Shotgun," calls Dabi, sulking over to the door. "One more window to look out of as I try to keep my insides where they belong." Tomura rolls his eyes.

"So, are we gonna play any road trip games?" asks Toga, considerably more excited than when Magne had to drag her out of her chair.

"I dunno, what did you have in mind?" The tone in their boss' voice suggests he's going to turn down whatever she says, but Himiko never has been good with his social cues.

"Truth or dare! Twenty questions! Spin the bottle! Two truths and a lie! Would you rather! Kiss, marry, kill! Concen---"

"Okay, okay, I get it!" he snaps. "Whatever, just pick one. Maybe it'll stop Dabi from puking his guts out in my stolen car."

As Compress expands the white van in the alleyway next to the League's hideout, Toga cheers. "Jin, what do you want?"

"I don't care. Two truths and a lie!" He quickly clambers into the car, seizing the back left window seat.

"Sounds great!" She shuffles in next to him. "Kuro, you start!"

He lets out a short sigh. "Yes, alright, fine. I suppose I can come up with something."

Dabi hesitantly gets into the front seat, setting his own empty knapsack by his feet. "This better not get weird, or I'll just hop out of the window."

Shigaraki gives his boyfriend a pointed glare as he takes the wheel in his half-gloved hands. "I told you, you're not allowed to make jokes like that anymore. You worry me."

"Sorry," he says dryly, not sounding very sorry at all. "I'll just eat all my Altoids at once then."

The rest of the team piles in, Suichi next to Toga; Compress, Magne, and Kurogiri in the middle row. "Why wear our villain costumes if we're being discreet when we arrive?" asks Spinner, struggling with his scarf.

"To scare civilians when we stop for food. I hate lines," says Tomura, starting the car.

"Are you sure you know how to drive?" asks Jin, hand raised. "I have complete faith in ya, boss man!"

"Yes, I know how to drive, I've been playing racing games since I was younger than Toga!" he snaps.

"Okay, okay, go," says Himiko, smacking her hand on Kurogiri's shoulder.

The purple void thinks as Shigaraki pulls into the street, already scratching at his neck. "Hm...Alright, I'm ready. Number one: I am twenty-eight years old. Number two: my real name is Morimi Yoshiano. Number three: I have a scar on my eyebrow that makes it look like I shaved a slit in it to be edgy."

Magne laughs. "That third one has to be the lie."

He shakes his head, sending swirls of mist into the backseat. "Entirely true."

"Number one is," rasps Tomura. "If that were true, I would have met you when you were thirteen or so. Possible, but unlikely."

"Well, I suppose it's fitting you guessed it. Is it your turn then?"

"'Morimi Yoshiano'. That sounds off for some reason. I think I'll stick with 'Black Fog'," says Compress.

There's a murmur of agreement across the car. "Okay, I think I'm ready. My hair used to be black, I hate Sonic the hedgehog, or I've never been in a movie theatre."

Dabi turns to him with a "ha". "I know for a fact your hair was black as a kid. And everybody hates Sonic, so---"

"Excuse me, what?" Tomura almost swerves into the next lane as he turns to his now-green-tinged boyfriend. "Everybody hates Sonic?!?"

"Face the street, creep, and stop treating this like bumper cars," he says in a wavering voice.

Shigaraki faces forward. "Sonic was and is an iconic video game, vital to the development of---"

"Was it the lie or not?" whines Toga.

He huffs. "Yes, it was the lie. Your turn."

"One: I used to think Tomura was cute. Two: I've eaten dog before. Three: One time I stabbed Dabi's arm while he was asleep, and he didn't even notice."

Kurogiri looks back, slightly disturbed. "I'm not sure which answer I want to be correct."

"I don't think you'd eat a dog," says Jin, though he sounds unsure.

"That's what she wants you to---" A weird noise from Dabi cuts Spinner off. "Gross, man."

Dabi tosses a mint at his teammate's head after popping one in his mouth. "Shut up. I can't help it."

"This is getting boring, you guys are being too easy," says Toga. "The lie was the dog one."

"So what now?" ask Twice. "I am perfectly content!"

"I dunno, why don't we play spin the bottle like you suggested earlier? It's certainly high risk," says Magne.

"High risk? What do you mean?"

She grins, adjusting herself in her seat. "Well, we have a gremlin with crusty lips, a queasy piece of bacon, me, Sako, a void, a sociopath, Deadpool, and a lizard. There's not really any solid wins besides my boyfriend, and that's brought down by the fact that his not-singleness makes it awkward."

Suichi grins. "Like a game of chicken. I'm in."

"I wouldn't call myself a void, but alright, I guess."

"Isn't Himiko a minor?" asks Shigaraki, itching his neck.

"You're concerned about that but not---" Dabi hiccups, "---not driving with a hand over your face?"

Tomura huffs and takes the hand off, tossing it onto Dabi's lap. "Happy? Now I may be a criminal, but I have, like, morals."

"Oh, come on, Shiggy. I'm consenting. And it's just a little kiss," she whines. "I don't have any people my age to be my age around, you know? I want my teenage years to be as teenager-y as possible."

He stops joltily at a red light. "Alright, but if this is what we get arrested for, I blame you."

She grins. "Okay, just let me pull up the app!" Jin huddles over next to her for a minute as they type in names and adjust settings. "Ready! Who's spinning first?"

"What's the punishment if you pass?" asks Compress, taking off his mask and fanning himself with it.

"Hmmmmmmm." She taps her chin. "A good question."

"Whoever chickens out has to buy the person they didn't kiss something from wherever we stop," suggests Magne. 

Everyone groans. Everyone is broke. Even the author, writing this at 1 am after a mental breakdown is broke. The fourth wall is broke.

Anyway.

Toga presses the button on her screen, and the automated sound of a spinning game wheel sounds throughout the car alongside Dabi's groans of discomfort. "And I will be kissing...Suichi!"

The scaly villain groans. "Why me?" Still, he faces his left and takes the quick peck. "Okay, my turn." His clawed finger presses the button, and once again suspense fills the air. "Compress, that's you."

"Must I?" he asks dryly, turning around. The ordeal is over as quickly as the first round, and Compress removes his glove. "This is setting up to be a long road trip." The clicking begins once again, and finally lands on Kurogiri's name.

"Whoaaaa," crows Jin. "Are you gonna have to deactivate your quirk? We don't want his face going through. That would be hilarious!"

Kurogiri tenses. "Um. Well, there is always the option of buying you something."

"We're all broke and you know that. Come on, it isn't that bad." The magician pulls his glove on, leaning over his girlfriend.

"Yeah, besides, we wanna see your face! It's like a fun little mystery!" says Toga, leaning forward on her elbows.

Tomura glances back. "You don't have to if you don't want to, Kuro."

"No, no, they have a right to know what I look like. It's waited long enough," he says with a sigh.

Dabi, bag held lazily in one hand, turns around slowly, trying to act apathetic. Kurogiri rolls down his window, letting a gust of air in, and the fog around his slowly dissipates. 

"Whoa, you're kinda hot, in a weird, battle-worn kind of way," says Jin. "That's a lot of damage! And we're gonna repair it using flex tape!" He puts a banana sticker on the man's forehead.

Kurogiri peels the sticker off slowly, taking a few purple hairs out in the process. His face is scattered with patches of light skin, making his dark eyes stand out against his features. "What is flex tape?"

And this is where I stopped oof

#lov #league of villains #save me #the last sighting of Kuroplier #RIP #writing