#i'm so bloody gender confused

[horusmenhosetix]

Very confused, advice would be appreciated :’3 Long post

Hey there, I'm an 24 afab non-binary asexual who just discovered they were demiromantic. I just had bilateral mastectomy, i'm at about 8 weeks recovery. I am chronically ill and this illness has stopped my education and ability to work. I feel like I have wasted half my life and feel less real compared to my friends who are all around 20-22 years old at uni living their lives and progressing while i'm stuck in painful limbo.

My online friend from the discord friend group i'm in just came to the uk to meet up with us and I developed a huge crush on him. I find him aesthetically attractive and I felt like I wanted to be close to him and cuddle/kiss him which has only happened once before, to another online friend, and to a much lesser degree. I felt like I wanted to be attractive to him so that he would like me back. But, he is a straight 20 y/o M and my internalised acephobia said he'd never want to be with me in a sexless relationship. (My first and only relationship so far was with a high libido individual and they put constant pressure to have sex on me when we were together.) And then my internalised transphobia and body shaming came into the picture telling me he'd never find me attractive now my only appeal has gone, my D cup breasts.

Before, when I thought I was aro/ace (for the last 6 or so years), I stopped caring about my appearance and the thought of being sexually attractive to randos repulsed me. So I was completely fine and happy with my surgery, and I still am for myself I think (I don’t feel a profound sense of loss or anything), but this experience of romantic attraction has these self hating thoughts are swirling around my head now.

Society’s standards for beauty don’t last. I feel so superficial caring about this now after years of ignoring my body completely and having bilateral mastectomy I’ve wanted for 6+ years. I've never performed femininity before, wearing makeup, doing my hair, trying to be pretty and appealing etc. But these feelings of wanting to be attractive to this guy have got me questioning if my gender isn't more feminine. Maybe I should have just had a breast reduction. Idk anymore.

I went through a period of time thinking that because I didn't feel very feminine, dressing up for prom felt like putting drag on, that I must be FTM trans, so I did try going on testosterone for a while. But doing that made me realise I didn't want to be male, or that masculine. Maybe my bad self image was contributing to the feeling that trying to perform femininity was a mask. I don’t regret trying T because it helped me explore my gender more. I'm going to try and see if performing femininty makes me feel any different. I just have no idea how to being with make-up and stuff.

He was only there for four days, and I was only there for three of those. On the third day I confessed my feelings to him. He said a relationship wouldn't be a possibility due to logistical reasons and that he wasn't up for a long distance relationship. I asked if my being non-binary had any bearing on the rejection but he said no, actually. He also said he didn't have the mental capacity at the moment for a relationship. I thought he might be trying to spare my feelings but I haven't known him to do that, he's very honest usually. He said he was glad I was comfortable enough with him to tell him and that it hasn't ruined our friendship (I had said that i hope that it hasn't so this was in response to that).

So now I have all these feelings I don't know what to do with. I've had extremely low self esteem since I was a child, I hated myself for being different than everyone else. (I had undiagnosed autism until I was 18 and the symptoms made me feel like an alien trying to blend in with humans, and I still feel that way just slightly less i suppose) I feel like I'm not good enough for him, or anyone. I feel hideously ugly but I would never call anyone else that. I feel like i'm aging too fast and my life is slipping by and my illness has wasted more than half of it.

I know he'd going to find a lovely young lady who actually lives in his country who isn't asexual and can make him happy and it feels like metaphorical daggers to my heart thinking about it.

If you've made it this far thank you. I live in a smallish town and i've only met one lgbt person, that I know of, here. I don't have any lgbtqa friends to talk to so I was hoping to get some advice on how to deal with these feelings here, or if any of you have experienced anything similar. I thought I had my gender and sexuality figured out but turns out it’s a bigger mess than I thought.

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Bad Guy x Reader

I am currently in my Natural Born Killers nostalgia, and so I'm borrowing its vibes and bringing you this: a bad-to-the-bone, rock-and-roll attitude yandere who constantly makes you question your own morality. Featuring an old OC!

Content: gender neutral reader, violence, murder, male yandere

He fell in love with you at first sight. A goody two shoes, quiet and obedient. Shy. Oh, terribly shy. You couldn't even meet his eyes. He knew you were the kind others would step on, take advantage of. But there was more to it, much more to uncover.

Who was it? A relative, a friend, a coworker? You know, that person holding you back, keeping you in your place. The one who'd always make you feel small and insignificant. The one who would always find something to criticize. How did it feel when you found them on the ground, bashed in and bloodied up? He was standing above the lifeless body, catching his breath, a cocky smile plastered on his face. His way of courting you.

He looked so tall in that moment, towering above your hesitant self, his gaze of a confidence and intensity you'd never known before. "Well? What are you waiting for? Get in", he said, gesturing towards a convertible he most likely stole earlier that day. What possessed you in that moment to join him without delay? Was it his charisma? Or did you know in the depth of your soul that he wouldn't take no for an answer?

You see, he's known it from the beginning. Someone like you needs someone like him. You’re a sweet little lamb lost among the wolves. The world would eat you right up if you were left by yourself. But now you have him. And he won't let his precious prey get away. Oh, dear, no. If he wants something, he gets it. And he's never wanted anything more than you.

"You didn't...even tell me your name", you sheepishly spoke up from the passenger seat, trying to keep your mind away from the crime you'd just witnessed. "Just call me Tig", he said casually with a yawn, speeding away. "Won't you be in trouble, Tig? Why would you even kill-" you tried to reason. "What kinda question is that? They treated you like shit and it pissed me off." He glanced at you with a frown, taking another drag off his cigarette. "You're mine now, so whatever happens to you is my business. Got it?" You just stared. Was that his way of asking you out?

Tig lives by his own rules, as you quickly learned from becoming his companion. Always on the run, indifferent to the world. For the most part, to your surprise, he's well-behaved. If people don't mess with him, he doesn't mess with them. Simple as that.

Anything involving you, however, sets him off terribly. Like a rabid, ferocious guard dog, he's ready to pounce on whoever approaches you the wrong way. Last week you stopped at a highway diner for coffee, and on your way back to your table, you jokingly pulled a clumsy dance move to the song playing from the speakers. Tig observed you with an amused smile, sipping from his cup. A passerby joined you, resting his arm on your waist flirtatiously. Tig's smile dropped in an instant, and next thing you knew, the whole place was splattered in blood. No one made it out.

"I didn't even finish my coffee", you whined, already used to the occasional massacre. The man hopped behind the counter and threw on a bloodied cap. "What will it be, sir/ma'am?" he pretended, dangling a takeaway cup and starting the espresso machine. "I never told you, but I used to be a barista", he declared proudly. An entirely different person from the unhinged killer you witnessed minutes ago. "What? You said you were a mechanic", you questioned with raised brows. "That's also true. I'm a jack of all trades, I suppose. You know what I'm best at, though?" He lowered himself until his forehead touched yours. "Pleasing you."

The man is romantic in his own way. He twists the key, and the engine stops. You follow him out of the car in confusion. "Why did we stop here?" He briefly lifts himself up onto the tall fence securing the bridge, and inhales deeply. "Isn't it a nice view?" he says, nodding ahead. It is a scenic sight, sure. The river slithers along the lush valley, and the setting sun gives everything a dramatic tint. "Give me your hand", he suddenly demands as he goes to grab it himself. Before you can ask for an explanation, he quickly drags a blade across your palm, and you wince in pain. He repeats the gesture with his own hand, locking his fingers with yours over the rail. You watch as fresh blood trails along your skin, eventually falling into droplets and vanishing into the river. "Now we're going to be everywhere", he remarks playfully. "Okay, but what was the point?" you insist, a little baffled.

"Isn't it obvious? Maybe this will help", he continues, procuring a ring from his pocket. "I'm saying I want to marry you, (Y/N)."

You open your mouth to answer, but he already slides it up your finger, eyes glimmering in excitement.

"You're never getting away from me, love."

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

Ngl, you were one of the first tumblr blogs that awakened the monsterfucker in me, did not ever expect I would be here, uhh I love your work especially the alien pet one!! Anyways uhhhh can I request an NSFW cannibalistic giant x human reader, can be any gender, idk if this classifies as monster or not idk??

Sorry this took so long!

(Requests still closed, old request)

*NSFW* Yandere!Cannibalistic Giant x GN!Reader

Short drabble CW: death, abduction, animal death, no lemon just lime, non con touching, NSFW, hands-free orgasm

"Stop ignoring me."

Numb and silent, the abducted human sat as motionless as a living corpse. They had fought back for the first few weeks, crying and begging for their life, attempting escapes whenever they thought they had an opening, but now (Reader) understood that they truly had no hope of ever leaving the giant's side alive, and it killed them before he had a chance to.

When the campsite was attacked, they watched as their friends were torn apart, limbs easily ripped off of their bodies and devoured right in front of them. In the roulette of fight, flight, or freeze, (Reader) threw themselves at the monsters mindlessly, despite being barely thigh height in comparison. They stabbed one of the giants with a barbeque poker, but it barely pierced his thick flesh. He didn't even let out a sound of pain; it was like (Reader) had thrown a pillow at him and not attempted to spear him.

The fiery haired giant (Reader) had attacked picked them up by the back of their shirt like a cat, examining them long enough for their adrenaline to dissipate.

Shockingly, he did not eat them like he did their friends.

Instead the bloody giant hoisted (Reader) over his shoulder and left his brethren to continue the carnage.

For weeks the traumatized human sat by the giant's side, inescapable. He never hurt them, but threatened them nearly every day.

"If you try to run again, I'll bite your legs off."

"Such a pretty little human; I'm sure you taste just as good as you look."

"When I finally scalp you, your hair will make a fine necklace."

It became monotonous, the threats of harm and death, so when the young adult finally cracked, the words didn't startle them into reacting, even when he escalated his taunts.

"I told you to stop ignoring me." He warned, grabbing his victim under the arms like a child and raising them up to eye level. (Reader) felt as though they couldn't will themselves to care. Their life was already over: there was no hope.

He opened his mouth as wide as he possibly could, and slowly placed his captive's head inside. When he couldn't feel them squirm he slid them in deeper until his teeth scraped their collar bone and upper shoulder blades. His teeth gently dug into their skin. It was supposed to be intimidating, a reminder that at any moment he could and would eat them, but when he still couldn't feel them move he pulled them back out, his eyebrows knitted together in what was either concern or disappointment.

A loud chuckle rumbled like thunder from another giant who had been watching with amusement from across the way. "Uh oh, Pinyon! Looks like you broke your new toy!"

The abductor harrumphed before carrying (Reader) somewhere private, grumbling out a venomous sounding "They aren't my toy.."

In the seclusion of his tent, he suddenly had a change of attitude, acting in a way he had never done before. He pressed his face against their stomach while holding their back in a fashion that felt like a caress. Tears formed out of confusion at the seemingly tender action. They had already accepted their death, so why was he hugging them?

"Interesting little one.." the giant's voice vibrated across their abdomen. "Please do not ignore me.."

When he was a child, Pinyon found a squirrel that had fallen out of a tree. He didn't know what was wrong with the animal, but it seemed injured, and it sounded like it was struggling to breathe. Meat was meat. It didn't matter what the meat was, everything the tribe found was food for them, whether it was animal or human. However, this wasn't a conquest, it wasn't a fight. It was his first struggle. The poor thing was struggling.

Pinyon picked up the little creature, unsure of why his chest felt so heavy. The thing bit him. It didn't hurt, and it didn't anger him. It made him happy. To see it fight back. The action showed Pinyon that the squirrel was still alive, and that it was going to be fine. He cared for the squirrel as tenderly as a human cared for a pet dog; bringing it food and gently trying to nurse it.

Then, the squirrel died.

That was it. He went to feed it, and it was limp. There was no sound, no blood, it just stopped.

When you're raised to eat whatever is given to you, when you're told that "meat is meat", it's easy to forget that the creatures screaming for mercy are alive.

He didn't know why, it wasn't the first time someone had fought back, and it wasn't his first human kill..

But the look on the little human's face as they leapt out at him with a pitiful excuse for a weapon reminded him of that squirrel.

"It doesn't matter if you hate me, or if you're scared of me. Even if it's to scream at me, don't ignore me."

The brief kindness was over in a second, the confusion and hope leaving (Reader's) body as quickly as it came. Just as the tears began to form and the weight lifted off their shoulders the giant squeezed them closer to his face and breathed in deeply. Wearing only their tattered undergarments, his breath felt hot against their bare stomach. It was an intimate gesture that gave birth to a new kind of fear, one that (Reader) hadn't previously considered.

His wet tongue left his mouth and poked their gut.

It wasn't the first time he had tasted them, but there were no promises of pain and consumption this time; instead there was a half lidded expression on his face that made (Reader) instinctively clamp their thighs shut.

Their hands flew to his face as they pathetically attempted to push him away with all of their strength. But the struggle seemed to excite him more, as he began licking their stomach more intensely, planting kisses along the tops of their pelvis as he traveled lower down their body.

"STOP!" (Reader) cried out as they bruised their fists on his forehead. Their body was quivering involuntarily as his drool began to mix with their sweat, dripping down towards their underwear. Pinyon's lips were too close to their last shred of apparel, and they felt shame as his breath tickling their body felt physically pleasurable.

"Is this what I need to do now-" his words agitated their sensitive body, making them arch their back in an attempt to put distance between is mouth and their crotch, "-so you'll stop ignoring me?"

(Reader) loudly sobbed, knowing that he could see how wet their clothing had become. It wasn't because he was attractive, or because they wanted him. The way he was holding them, the warm words hitting their lower half, it stained their underwear with arousal. The abductee wanted to beg him to look away, to explain that it wasn't him, that they weren't turned on. But only sobs came out as his sharp teeth slid into the underpants' belt line and tore their last line of defense down to their ankles.

[aphroditelovesu]

The Bloody Viscount - I

— summary: You had fallen in love with Viscount Bridgerton and he had fallen in love with you. The marriage seemed perfect, but then why did Anthony Bridgerton always come home late and bloodstained?

— gender: yandere, dark!au.

— warnings: obsessive and possessive behavior, murder, kidnapping, angst, fluffy, dub-con (?), possibly smut.

— pairing: yandere!anthony bridgerton x female!reader.

— word count: +1,634.

— tag list: @will-delete-this-later-probably, @cayt0123, @flowercrowns-goodvibes, @czarinera

— prologue; chapter 2;

Chapter 1

''Dear and gentle readers,

Another social season begins and the bustle of the city returns with new marriage opportunities. Mothers desperate to find a good match for their daughters and singles looking for a suitable bride.

It is indeed a confusion, but one that will become more so after information has reached this author that Viscount Bridgerton is looking for a wife. Who will be the young woman who will hold this rake's attention?''

Chronicles of the Society of Lady Whistledown, April 26, 1813.

You threw the flyer on the floor when your mom came into the room. She frowned at you and you gave a guilty smile.

''(Y/N) you know I hate it when you read those gossip flyers.'' Your mother scolded you as she sat next to you on the couch.

''Sorry Mom, I just... I was curious.'' You muttered under your breath, aware of the scolding looks she was sending you.

''I've told you countless times, a lady shouldn't read too much.'' You watched your mother pick a biscuit from the plate and eat it with grace. You shrugged your shoulders at that sight. Your mother had always been a graceful woman even though she had low status, she acted like a real lady and that bothered you.

It bothered you because you knew you would never be as perfect as she was.

''I know! It's just...'' You thought quickly, ''Did you know that Viscount Brigderton is looking for a wife?'' Your mother's eyes brightened immediately.

You regretted her words the moment they left your mouth.

''Oh really? This is wonderful!'' Your mother's normally cold eyes turned gentle and warm. That wasn't a good sign, it was never a good sign.

You frowned and picked up the gossip pamphlet, wanting to get back to your reading. Your mother looked at you with disdain and took it from your hand.

''Mom!'' You protested.

''Silence! I'm reading.'' She grumbled, looking at you reproachfully. You huffed and sank down onto the couch, crossing your arms and sighing.

You didn't say another word to your parents until the next day. Not even at dinner which was always a hostile and uncomfortable moment where you felt more judged than ever.

You would never get used to Lady Danbury's balls.

You didn't have many certainties in your life at the moment, but you knew you'd never get used to how well planned they were.

You looked around and smiled weakly. The whole hall was decorated according to the tastes of its owner, ornate flowers, musicians, drinks and all dressed in impeccable ways. And, to make everything fancy, there was the Queen present. Looking at everyone with judgments and maybe looking for her diamond.

The ladies wore graceful and beautiful dresses, some more fortunate ones used jewels in their dresses. Jewels adorned them, you didn't fail to notice Lady Cressida Cowper showing off her neck adorned with a ruby necklace given to her by the new Lord Featherington.

And the gentlemen were dressed alike, you noticed. Or almost. Stylish suits and what complemented them very well.

And there was you. You looked pretty, that's what you'd been told and what you'd seen in the mirror, but you were wearing something more modest. Without much adornment, small and discreet earrings, a diamond necklace that had belonged to your grandmother and your hair done in a simple hairstyle but that left your features visible.

You thought you were pretty and you thought you looked pretty, but seeing the other ladies, you can't help but feel a little insecure.

Your fingers tightened on the hem of your dress, and if you hadn't been wearing gloves, you might have seen them turn white. You took a deep breath and looked around, amusement passed through your body when you noticed a group of young people and their mothers surrounding some poor man.

But when you realized who the poor man was your breath got deeper. As if you were desperate for air.

Viscount Bridgerton.

Your eyes met Viscount Brigderton's and you felt your face heat up as you felt the intensity he was staring at you.

He was an attractive man, you had to confess. And it wasn't the way he looked, sure, he was handsome, but the look in his eyes was what stunned you. The passion they conveyed put you to shame.

And the fact that eyes were thrown in his direction made you even more cornered. Looking away to a random spot on the ball, you smiled as you watched the couples dancing and people chatting and gossiping.

You turned to your mother, who was watching all the men at the party carefully, sizing them up. You mentally rolled your eyes at that, she was so determined to find you a husband that she didn't even ask you what you wanted.

It's not that you didn't want to get married, you wanted and would like to have a family one day, but... You didn't know how to deal with all that. This was his first season and your mother, Lady (L/N), seemed very committed to getting a good match for you.

And it wasn't for your happiness, you noticed.

It was to raise your family's social status. As the only child, it was your responsibility to improve your parents' lives. It was your duty and something you'd been raised to do since birth.

Raised to become a proper wife.

Your education, your tastes, everything that was taught to you should correspond to the tastes of your future husband. And your mother had been pretty strict about it. Your dad was more relaxed, but he always made his expectations of you clear.

Your mother's eyes turned to the Viscount and you felt like hiding. She looked him up and down, he was talking to an older woman, who you assumed was Lady Violet Bridgerton. His mother.

You watched your mother straighten her posture and start walking across the room, towards the Viscount. Your face got even redder because you knew what your mother would do.

What she always did. She would start babbling about you and your skills and what she thought you liked. How good and sweet you were, how motherly you were.

You mentally sneered and frowned when you saw your mother coming, accompanied by Lady and Viscount Bridgerton. You looked away quickly and turned so you could flee, when the Viscount's deep, sensual voice called out to you.

''Lady (Y/N) (L/N)?''

A shiver ran down your spine at the tone that had your name coming out of his mouth and you mentally scolded yourself. You straightened your posture and turned to face him.

You bowed slightly, lowering your head in submission, as your mother had taught you, and looked into his dark eyes.

''Lord Bridgerton.'' You smiled weakly, ''It's a pleasure to meet you, milord.''

You could have sworn you saw him wince at the title and his eyes darken even further.

Lord Bridgerton took your gloved left hand and pressed a kiss to it. Your body involuntarily shuddered at the touch, you bit your lower lip discreetly and felt your cheeks redden with the shame you felt.

''The pleasure is all mine.'' He released your hand gently. ''Would you do me the honor of a dance?''

You could have sworn your heart stopped at that moment.

And that you had heard a sound like a scream come out of your mother's throat.

But you smiled at him and bowed, ''Of course.''

You extended your hand to him and he took it. Lord Bridgerton guided you to the center of the dance floor. You stopped facing each other and when the music started, he started leading you in a classical dance.

You were uncomfortable with the intensity he was staring at you, but you tried to push it aside and focus on his footsteps.

''Nervous?'' He asked and you quickly denied it. He laughed a little and for a moment you thought he was laughing at you.

Amused, he continued to talk to you as you danced, ''I've never seen you at any of Lady Danbury's balls…''

''It's my first season.'' You replied, looking into his eyes.

''I see.'' Lord Bridgerton whirled you around and brought you into his strong arms again. ''You must be looking forward to getting married then.'' It wasn't a question but you answered it like one anyway.

''I am...''

''Anyone in mind?''

You blinked in surprise and answered uncomfortably, ''No... I don't think so.''

''Would you like to have children? When and how many?''

''Yes I would like. Not sure when and how many, but considerable time after the wedding and an amount that pleases both me and my husband would be well received.''

The Viscount hummed and you continued to dance in silence. When the song came to an end, you pulled apart and you bowed to him and he did the same.

''Thank you for the dance, milord.'' You lowered your head and waved at him.

''I thank you, Lady (Y/N)(L/N).'' Lord Bridgerton kissed your hand once more and smiled lovingly. He whispered inaudibly, ''I hope to see you again.''

You blushed at the tone and what it meant. Perhaps you had just captivated a Viscount.

You wanted to say something else, but he had already left. You looked around and saw your mother talking animatedly to Lady Violet. You sighed and were about to go to her when the Queen's voice rang out.

She would finally announce who would be her diamond.

You noticed all the young ladies looking anxious, as well as the gentlemen.

''My choice for this season's diamond is...'' The Queen made a cliffhanger and everyone held their breath, she smiled and looked in her direction, ''Lady (Y/N)(L/N).''

You could have passed out at that point.

— lady l: and the news came out that the world didn't believe!! I'm really sorry for the delay of the chapter! I had it ready for weeks but I couldn't post it because of my computer and because of other projects, however, I'll try to update this fanfic weekly! I promise to try :). I hope you like it and forgive me for any mistakes! ❤️

[luna0713hunter]

Please more writing for shanks! It's so good

Author's note : I've come back from the death!!!i just had one of my final terms today and saying im exhausted to bone is a misunderstanding. Anyways!!!i hope u enjoy this!!

A safe place to rest

Shanks x reader

Summary : being a pirate,may seem like an easy job. But after fighting marines and looking after your crewmates,you cant help but to feel exhausted.

Warnings : none,hurt/comfort,overworked reader,pet names such as "princess,darling and etc", gender neutral ,metion of blood

*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘

Peeling the bloody shirt off of your body and throwing it on the wooden floor of the ship,you sit heavily on your bed and heave a heavy sigh; today was exhausting.

It started out like any other day;with you waking up to your crewmates loud banter and getting dressed as you made your way over to the kitchen to have a simple breakfast. Soon,a small land was found,and it was time for reloading the stuff you needed to sail off again.

Helping everyone was as always,a challenge. As you tried to stop your crewmates from making any mess,and at the same time remembering every single item on the list. And simply putting them in the storage had took all your afternoon rest. And if that wasnt enough,everyone on the ship had agreed to go out and drink because it's been a while since you had hit the land.

And if your day wasnt exhausting enough,all hell broke loose as you stepped inside the bar.

Everything was good for the first thirty minutes. That is,until a group of young marines had barged in; seemingly have heard from the locals about the pirates luring around.

The fight was ugly.

You take your head in your hands as the images of the fight flashes across your eyes;the sickly smell of blood still lingering in your nose.

Gods above,you were beyond tired. You were ready to crawl under your blanket and never get out,when a gentle knock broke you out of your trace.

You hastily throw a clean shirt on,and slowly open the door only to be greeted by a flash of red.

Shanks,your captain, gives you a small smirk as he takes in your appearance and leans against the door frame.

"comfortable there, princess?"

You give him a confused look before taking a good look at what you're wearing and then your cheeks are burning bright red. You swallow down your embarrassment and fold your arms against your chest with a slight pout.

"your fault for leaving it in my room,Cap."

Shanks lets out a free laugh and raises his single arm up in mock surrounder.

"dont get me wrong. I love to see you in my clothes more than anything."

You hum,a slight comfort taking place in your weary bones as you lean against the door as well.

"more than wine?"

Shanks leans slightly closer,and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear,and you try to look away when he gives you the softest smile.

"more than air itself,my dear."

You lean in his touch shyly and look up at him from under your lashes.

"would you like to come in then, captain?"

Shanks nods and closes the door behind himself.

Its not his first time in your room;after all,its been a while since the two of you started dating. But it still made you slightly awkward having him in your messy room.

A slight tug at your hand and warm fingers interwining with yours,makes you look at the red haired man standing in front of you.

"what're you thinking about,doll?"

And just seeing him there;in the comfort of your own room and under the soft glow of the candles;in his cloths,has you letting out a soft sigh and leaning your forehead against his shoulder.

"I'm just... exhausted,Shanks. Today was alot. Everything is alot."

A strong arm wraps itself around your shoulders and pulls you flush against his chest. You feel Shanks' lips press firmly against the crown of your hair and you close your eyes upon the feeling.

"Take the day off tomorrow. No,take a week off;a month if you need,my dear. It kills me to see you wear yourself thin,and I've been meaning to ask you to take a break. Lets just,rest until you feel better yeah?" You raise you head up and look at him,only to see him smiling softly;his hand caressing your hair, "no need to push yourself. My princess deserves the best."

You blink rapidly;only to get rid of the stray tears stinging your eyes. A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips before you're pulling yourself up on your tiptoes,and pressing your lips to his stubbled cheek.

"i appreciate it,Cap."

A horse chuckle escapes his lips,and before you know it, you're being lead to your bed.

"then how about we start from sleeping this awful night off. What do you say?"

And when you pull him down along with you and let out a relaxed sigh as you lay your head on his chest,a genuine smile finally blooms on your lips.

"sounds just wonderful,my love."

And you let the sound of Shanks' soft breathing and waves,lull you to sleep.

[bosbas]

Chapter 10: writing letters addressed to the fire

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: benedict bridgerton x best friend!fem!reader WC: 3.8k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, idiots in love being idiots in love, angst, pining, like a lot of pining, anthony being controversial

Summary: You and Benedict have been best friends since childhood, but things change dramatically once you come out in society. You’re struggling to find someone you’re as compatible with and who knows you as well as Benedict, all while trying to quell your ever-growing feelings for him. Shenanigans ensue.

A/N: they're so in their evermore era i can't

July 7, 1814 - The expectations were as high as the chandeliers at the Bridgerton Ball two nights prior. And the night did not disappoint. Our forgone diamond of the season made an appearance at the social event. A fact that is expected given the close relationship between the Beaumonts and Bridgertons, but a pleasant surprise given her recent absence from social happenings. While previously the center of attention, Miss Beaumont danced only once at the Bridgerton Ball with one Mr. Alexander Beaumont. Yes, dear reader, her brother. This leaves us with the lingering question: why did Miss Beaumont choose her brother over the allure of a potential match? It seems that Miss Beaumont is simply tired of the ton's social scene, or perhaps she has lost some of her shine now that her best friend has left for the countryside. 

He cleared his throat, rubbing his thumb on his lower lip. Finally meeting your eyes, he said, "Well, I was wondering if you'd want to marry me."

You choked, completely taken aback. "Are you alright, Anthony?" you asked, nervously laughing. "Was the whiskey too strong for you after all?"

He pinched his nose, annoyed at your flippant response, but couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his lips. "Be quiet! I'm trying to help you!" he said, laughing.

You were in hysterics now, too. "Help me?! Help me how, pray tell," you managed to get out between giggles.

"You are impossible! How Benedict deals with you so regularly, I have no idea!" he shot back, poking you in the arm as he said each word.

You gasped in mock offense. "Low blow, Anthony, even for you," you said, shaking your head at him, unable to keep from laughing. "Surely you're joking. Why should I let you marry me?"

"Let me marry– Bloody hell, Y/N, and excuse my language, but really, I am coming from a good place here, and you are making it so difficult," he responded, clearly exasperated by your inability to take him seriously.

You ceased laughing and looked at him directly, cocking your head and widening your eyes when you realized he was being sincere. "Anthony? Surely you're joking, right? Does Alex know? He'll kill you if he finds out you proposed to his little sister."

He sighed deeply, shifting in his seat. "Look, I am not joking. But let me explain first, and then you can ask me questions."

You could do little but stare at him, lips parted in confusion. "Go on, then," you said finally, very interested in hearing an explanation for this incredibly unexpected proposal.

Anthony looked over to where Alex was sitting, deep in conversation with your father, and then looked back to you. He turned in his seat so he was fully facing you, one hand on the back of his chair and the other on his knee, contemplating how best to explain himself without sounding insane. "I know it sounds like a crazy idea. Trust me, I can barely imagine it myself. But I do think it might be a good one," he said finally, hoping to get some kind of response from you, only to be met with a blank stare. You were still entirely unconvinced of his proposal, barely believing that he was being serious. 

"Listen, what you said two nights ago is not something I take lightly, given that you mean so much to us, to me and Benedict and our family. And I can see that you're having a rough go of it. The roughest go of it, actually," he continued.

"And you think marrying me will solve my problems because...?" you cut in, not quite following Anthony's logic.

"Well, I've been trying to explain my thought process for the past five minutes, but you're making it awfully hard, Y/N," he shot back, raising his eyebrows at you, amused. You rolled your eyes good-naturedly in response but sat back so you could let him continue.

"This might make more sense if I explain my side of things a bit more, actually," he decided, mentally rearranging what he was going to say to you. "Alex and Simon already know this, but my intention has never been to marry for love. Above all, I view marriage as a duty to my family. Since my father passed, I have been the one responsible for them, and they are the dearest thing in the world to me, as you well know."

At the mention of Edmund, you reached out and placed a hand on Anthony's, remembering how difficult it was for the family when his father passed. He shot you a grateful smile, covering your hand with his and clearing his throat before he continued speaking.

"I will be perfectly candid with you, Y/N, because you deserve nothing less. I was planning on looking for a wife next season, but even so, I believe that pursuing love is an unpleasant and unimportant endeavor, at least for me."

You gasped, slightly taken aback at his cynical views, though yours weren't much sunnier. "Don't you want to fall in love, Anthony? Don't you think you'll find a partnership like the one your parents had?" you prodded, overwhelmed by a sense of sadness. But you also felt somewhat understood, knowing now that Anthony had an unconventional view of marriage.

He gave you a knowing look, saying only, "Don't you?"

Knowing he had a point, you let up. "Fair enough, I suppose," you answered. Is that how you sounded when you spoke of getting married? You were completely disillusioned with the notion, but you had given it more than a few honest tries, while Anthony was set on never looking for a love match. It was quite ironic, seeing how much your parents loved each other and the love between Daphne and Simon, that you and Anthony had developed such depressing views on marriage. You saw Anthony nod in your direction, seemingly happy with your answer.

After a slight pause, Anthony winced, knowing he was about to share much more than he usually would. However, he knew that this would potentially benefit you both, so he fought through the discomfort. "Seeing my mother fall apart after Father died was awful to watch, and I would never want to cause someone that pain. My goal is not to find passion but to secure my family's future. And I was hoping to find someone who would want this different sort of partnership," he said, looking at you pointedly. You had already started connecting the dots in your head and thought you were catching on to where this was going now.

"So you want to have an unconventional marriage together, then?" you asked, hoping you had understood correctly.

He patted your hand, relieved you finally understood what he intended the proposal to sound like rather than the abrupt and blunt question he had asked earlier. "Yes, precisely. Of course, I want you to take as much time as you need to consider this decision since it is quite important. I doubt we would seek an expedited marriage license, but obviously, we can sort out the minutiae later if you decide to do this. There is no pressure one way or another, I simply wanted to give you an option you had probably not considered before," he said, searching your face for any reaction.

However, you remained guarded, still unsure about your feelings. Saying yes to this proposal would definitively mean saying no to Benedict. But Benedict had not even asked you anything, you argued internally. There was nothing to say no to. In fact, he had been the one to say no to you. But you didn't know if you were ready to give up all hope yet. Perhaps you were a fool, but then again, you always were when it came to your best friend.

If you accepted Anthony's proposal, would the now-permanent ache in your chest worsen at the knowledge that you could never have Benedict? Or would you feel better, getting closure Benedict would never give you?

You felt a surge of anger shoot up your spine. Why couldn't Benedict be the one asking you this? After twenty years, why was he the one who left you alone and confused while Anthony was left to pick up the broken pieces of you Ben left behind so carelessly? Even setting aside the added issue of your unrequited feelings for Benedict, Anthony was being a much better friend than him right now. But your anger dissipated quickly, dissolving into desperate sadness. You missed Ben so much; the short letters he had been sending were unsuccessful in placating the ever-growing need to feel his presence beside you. The overwhelming sense that something about you was missing was almost too much to handle, and you felt yourself going around in circles in your head about what you wanted to do.

You knew it could never be the same with Benedict regardless, so you reasoned that you would at least consider Anthony's proposal. You owed it to yourself to consider someone other than Benedict and something other than perpetual singledom without any children to raise or read to.

Realizing Anthony was patiently waiting for you to say something in response, you spoke up. "In theory, this doesn't sound like a terrible partnership," you started, laughing when Anthony snorted and muttered a short "Why, thank you."

"Shush! I'm trying to consider your proposal, and you're making it quite difficult to spend longer than twenty minutes with you, let alone the rest of my life," you joked, stomach dropping slightly when you mentioned the concept of forever. Pushing through your fear, you kept speaking, "I know you, Anthony Bridgerton. And I know you would not do something like this without a plan. So tell me your plan, and I will consider it and give you my answer once I have one."

Anthony couldn't help but laugh at your scolding tone, "You're not wrong." However, he knew he had to be careful about how he presented his reasoning for this proposal. It was no secret that he thought his brother a complete buffoon for refusing to marry you. Anyone could see that your best friend was madly in love with you, and Anthony was beyond confused as to why Benedict was being obtuse and frankly stupid when you so clearly loved him just as much.

It was hard to miss the alarmingly fond looks the two of you exchanged, not to mention what must be dozens of sketches of you in Benedict's studio, try as he might to make it look like there weren't that many. But what really made it the most obvious was Benedict's manner of speaking about you. It was beautiful to hear when Ben forgot himself and spent nearly an hour discussing a fascinating observation you had made about one of his paintings. Or when he saw Eloise reading a book you had read and launched into a speech about your genius way of interpreting a particular passage. Or even when Anthony inquired about any of the paintings of you in his studio and his brother began a lengthy explanation of how he wanted to paint your eyes in a way that captured your thoughtful yet soft gaze, in Ben's words. Benedict's unwavering and wholehearted admiration of you rivaled that of his parents. It seemed to Anthony that you were the sun, and Benedict was happy to be in your orbit if only to relish in the warmth and comfort you brought him. And the same could be said for you.

So, choosing his words carefully, Anthony avoided saying anything that would upset you, knowing you were still raw from Benedict's sudden departure a few weeks ago. "To start, a legal union between our families would only strengthen our bond, and I know we both would still like to remain close with our families after we are married."

Gauging a positive reaction from your raised eyebrows and slight nod, he continued. "Perhaps the most obvious advantage is that we would have the marriage we both want. I would, of course, encourage you to continue pursuing your studies after we were married, and though I would like to have children, and I know you do as well, I am in no particular rush if you don't feel ready yet," he continued.

To be fair, Anthony made a compelling argument. Although your ideal marriage was still the one you had imagined with Benedict as a child, Anthony was realistically the best option for you, especially with the men of the ton being as dreadful as they were and Ben off in the countryside for who knows how long.

"I don't want to feel suffocated by my husband, Anthony," you warned, earning a laugh from him.

"I know you think I'm insane, but I promise I don't want to be a suffocating husband. We want a lot of the same things, just for different reasons," he responded, ready to answer any and all rebuttals you had. Anthony knew this would be a difficult decision, and he had come prepared with the utmost patience to ensure he got rid of all of your doubts to the best of his abilities. Having watched you grow up and grown up alongside you, he had a deep fondness for you, often feeling as protective over you as he did over Eloise or Daphne. Anthony cared about you and wanted the best for you, no matter what that might entail. And if he could find a wife a season earlier than he had expected while you got what you deserved, that was just an added bonus.

In the back of his mind, Anthony hoped that if you accepted his proposal, Benedict might come to his senses before the engagement progressed too far. But he would be a fool to count on his brother to do so, based on how Ben had acted so far. Anthony knew it would be cruel to tell you this and raise your spirits only to be disappointed again. If it came to it, Anthony would be happy to marry you. It was a very practical union, and Anthony quite liked practical things.

"It makes sense, in a way, I suppose. We do want similar things," you muttered to yourself. "And you'd let me read as much as I wanted?" you asked, needing reassurance.

"I promise," answered Anthony, smiling sweetly at you. "Besides, we are already very acquainted with one another, having grown up together, and I'm sure it'd be good fun to be married. Well, at least I think so. And you know me well enough to be able to make that decision for yourself."

You nodded thoughtfully, mulling over all of the possible caveats you could think of to bring up to Anthony. If you were going to go through with this, you needed to be absolutely sure that it was what you wanted. Although it was getting difficult to find negatives about this possible union. It seemed that you would have much more agency with Anthony than if you were married to anyone else, bar Benedict, or as a spinster.

"What about Alex?" you settled on asking. "Have you talked about this with him?"

Both of you subconsciously turned to look at your older brother and then at each other. Anthony gave a slight shake of his head. "No, not yet. But I have a feeling he'll understand and even be supportive. Especially after the other night. And especially now that Benedict left."

You furrowed your brow, confused. What did Anthony mean, especially now that Benedict left? You were about to ask for clarification when Anthony cut in.

"Anyway, don't worry about Alex. I will talk to him and your father, and I know they will be on board with whatever you choose. So all you have to do is decide if this is something you want to do or not," he said quickly, trying to make up for the fact that he had revealed too much before. Anthony knew Alex had similar feelings to Anthony, perhaps even more pent-up anger at Benedict than he did since Benedict was hurting Alex's little sister. But he hadn't meant to tell you so directly. Anthony mentally kicked himself for rubbing salt on your metaphorical wound. Although it seemed that you had let go of his comment, for now, he noted as he watched you rubbing your temples, deep in thought.

You sighed deeply, coming to the realization that this could be it. This decision could change your life forever, and perhaps Benedict's life, depending on how he handled the news. If you accepted the proposal, of course. You couldn't help but feel a slight twinge of guilt, knowing that you could never feel for Anthony the same way you felt about Benedict.

"And you'd be alright with me not being in love with you? I don't think I can do that again. After Benedict," you said softly, still wanting to avoid thinking about losing him as much as possible.

"Yes, I would prefer it, actually," said Anthony, smiling at you. But his playful demeanor was wrapped in a careful tenderness. He understood you better than most people, having learned to see you, above all, through Benedict's eyes. He knew you were terrified. Of being married and not being married, of losing yourself and of staying exactly the same as you were now.

He was terrified, too, to be honest. He knew Benedict would be impossibly angry with him, even though he really had no reason to be, and feared their relationship could be fractured. Not to mention that Anthony had been dreading marriage ever since that fateful day his father fell ill from a bee sting, leaving his mother alone in the empty shell of their loving partnership. He supposed the two of you did sort of make sense in a peculiar way.

"Alright, go away, please," you shooed Anthony away. "I have to actually think about it now. But no matter what happens, I want you to know I'm grateful for your offer. I know it's coming from a very generous place, and it really does mean the world," you added, squeezing his hand as he stood up.

"Of course, Y/N. I'm not Benedict, but you're very important to me nonetheless. Take as much time as you need," he responded, returning your squeeze and making his way over to Colin and Theo, giving you space to mull over your decision.

That was precisely the situation, you thought. Anthony wasn't Benedict. And you had to decide whether or not that was good enough for you. It was a very compelling offer, and you knew it might be your only chance to have anything close to the sort of life you had hoped to have before Henri and the rest of the men of the ton so pointedly crushed your dreams. Benedict was the only reason not to marry Anthony, and he had been quite clear in saying that he wouldn't marry you. But you wanted to enjoy a few more days of imagining that Ben could be yours in some capacity before you had to move on from him forever.

---

Shoving a pile of unsent letters aside, Benedict set a fresh sheet of paper down and started yet another letter he was unlikely to send to you. Now that he had ceased going to parties and bringing home a different woman every night, he found himself with ample bouts of time that he dedicated almost exclusively to thinking about you.

With each new letter you sent, Benedict found himself lost in your words, re-reading them constantly and clinging to any fragment of you that he could still claim as his. In response, he wrote pages and pages of prose he would never send. These ranged from letters he could plausibly send to you, responding to every comment you had made about the book you had read that day. Others were less tame. Sometimes, he found himself unable to keep his overflowing feelings inside of him any longer, choosing instead to write heart-wrenching confessions of a love so deep and all-consuming that it permeated every fiber of his being. But Anthony's words reverberated in his head, warning him not to lead you on, every time he contemplated addressing these letters.

But Benedict loved you. The real, soul-crushing sort of love that only came once in a lifetime. The kind of love that grew from years of being by your side, knowing every detail of you, and still wanting to know more. He was far past the point of denying it and had now stumbled on an agonizing feeling of wanting. He wanted you by his side while he painted, quietly discussing the colors or the shading he was working on. He wanted to put his head in your lap as you sat in the garden, feeling your fingers running softly through his hair. He wanted to look over at night and find your sleeping form beside him, less than an arm's length away as he fell asleep holding you. Most of all, he wanted to be content in the knowledge that he could hold your hand, breathe in your scent, and twist your hair in his fingers as he kissed you every single day for the rest of his life. 

The moment in your garden by the rose bushes from the day before he left, where he came so close to kissing you, haunted his every waking moment. He couldn't seem to forget the way your lips parted, moving ever so slightly closer to his. The feeling of your soft breath against his skin, luring him in. He had been so close to just giving in and touching your expectant lips with his. It was all he had dreamed about doing ever since he had come back from Oxford and felt you in his arms, realizing that he never wanted to spend another day apart from you. He still wondered what would have happened if he had just done it. If he had just leaned over a few inches to join your lips and brushed his thumb on your cheek as he grabbed your waist. But he hadn't. Instead he had fled to the countryside, where he was missing you more than ever and ridden with jealousy at the thought of you with another man. 

Benedict didn't know if the ache of longing would ever fade. All he knew was that you were a permanent mark left on him he would never be able to wash off even if he wanted to. A part of him would always be you. The proof of that was on his desk cluttered with letters that would never find their way to you and in his studio housing nearly a dozen unfinished portraits of you.

Clutching to a sliver of hope, he held onto the fact that no news of your engagement had reached him. Yet, each day brought with it a tormenting dread as he approached his unopened letters, torn between the desperate hope for a letter from you and the paralyzing fear that he would receive an invitation to your wedding. But for now, he could still pretend you were his, at least partially.

—

previous part || next part || buy me a ko-fi!

Tag List (lmk if you want to be added!): @bellahadidnt16 @like-gabriel-and-castiel @riverraingrayworld @5sos-calm @elissanatok @titanicnerd-blog @noonenuts @moonwayne @lilasblogg @mmontgomeryb @fulltacoparadise @joyfullymulti @sopanngon @fanfiction-she-wrote @aureolinb @ambitionspassionscoffee @bbubbllejisoo @marvelspogue @avengersgirllorianna

[yanderes-galore]

Can I ask for a Infection AU concept for Rarity?

Sure, I feel so bad that Applejack isn't done at this time because I'm doing requests in order for the most part but I ASSURE you her part will be done before Patient Zero hopefully. For now, here's Rarity to finish off the main story parts.

Previous - Pinkie Pie

Next - Patient Zero

Yandere Virus! Rarity Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Clingy behavior, "Flirty" behavior, Attempted kidnapping, Blood, Dark themes, Violence, Horror themes, Yandere virus, Body horror, Implied attempted forced relationship, Open ending.

In your eyes, the cave was your only form of salvation.

A cave is isolated from the rest of Ponyville and gets you away from Rainbow and Pinkie.

You don't even know where the rest went.

You aren't sure how long you can remain in hiding, but you hope the Princesses will find a way to cure this mess....

However, you pause when you see a light glowing in the cave.

Feeling your heart race you quietly sneak towards the light.

Ponies...? Why here?

Your eyes widen when you're met with Rarity picking out gemstones for presumably her newest muse.

She seems unaware of the mess going on outside, turning when she hears another set of hooves.

You two stare at one another, Rarity in shock not only due to your sudden presence... but your appearance.

You look like a mess.

"Sweetheart, what are you doing here? Why do you look so... tired? Is that blood!?"

You flinch softly, you're so used to the looks of pity your friends have been giving you...

But you'll never be used to what usually happens next.

"Rarity, it isn't safe outside. I... I don't even think I'm safe. It's a mess outside and we need to get help!"

You try your best to explain yourself to the pony, Rarity frowning at your anxiety.

She had only gone out of Ponyville for a little while to collect gems... what had she missed?

"Are you sure you're okay? Do you need me to tend to your wounds?"

Rarity's tone is sincere as she steps closer, looking you over.

You step back in response, shaking your head.

"Perhaps it's too late for both of us..." You sigh softly.

Rarity doesn't understand you, watching as you turn around.

"Follow me, we need to go, I'll try to explain on the way."

For the first time in a while, you take charge and run out of the cave with Rarity.

Rarity's confusion only deepens when she sees Rainbow and Pinkie fighting, two monsters lost in a world of delusion.

They only stop fighting when they see you and Rarity running off.

After that, the two bloodied ponies follow in pursuit.

You try your best to explain your predicament to the mare as you run with her.

You feel your breathing pick up as you catch more movement.

Like wolves you see the rest of the Mane Six appear, tracking you seemingly by scent as you flee.

They don't look like themselves... in fact they probably look even worse.

The stench of blood fills the air and you swear you see Rarity fighting back tears.

You don't blame her... you've wanted to cry since this thing started.

What's even worse is you know she's infected now just by being near you.

Her fate is sealed, she'll be like the rest, monsters chasing the very same goal.

Isn't this your fault?

You look around and see an abandoned cabin.

Desperate, you push Rarity into the cabin and lock the door.

Hooves bang against the walls, reminiscent of zombies in horror films.

You turn to see Rarity crying and shaking, unsure of what her friends became.

"I'm so sorry."

You feels yourself crying too, the mare staring at you in confusion.

Did... did you really do this?

Or was it Twilight?

It didn't matter at this point, did it?

You give up... you can't run anymore.

As the banging continues with hisses and distorted voice, you run over and embrace the mare.

Rarity freezes, eyes dilating for a moment before nuzzling into your soft coat.

"You should've never had to go through this..." You sob. "I didn't deserve this, either!"

You expect her to be angry, to look at you like you're disgusting.

But she doesn't... instead she keeps you locked in her embraced.

She says nothing, hold only tightening when a particularly loud bang is heard.

This is the end of the road... you can already tell infection is setting in Rarity as you speak.

"It's okay, my gemstone..." Rarity purrs out, you flinching at her flirty tone. "No pony is going to hurt you, my dearest... you just look so pretty...!"

She, like all the others, wants to keep you all to herself.

By the time the door breaks down and you're greeted with the scent of blood, you have an assumption that your time has come...

You couldn't run forever it seems.

[the-90s-music-colosseum]

Round 5, Match 2

propaganda below the cut! (wall of text warning)

Selena:

"truly probably one of the most beautiful women to have ever walked this earth. voice of an angel, dazzling smile, looks like she smells good"

"if u don't vote selena ur mexicanphobic /j"

Brian Molko:

"Gender"

"IM GOING TO EAT HER. He is soooo beautiful and freakish and small and weird and girlfriend and tiny like a little princess bug fairy. Literally gorgeous she has to win"

"When he flipped over the table with the little limp wrist.... someone find the video"

"1998 woman of the year"

"Brian Molko is peak gender envy, gender bending and being yourself without caring about other people's opinion, on top of all that he is a great guitarist that writes amazing songs"

"Brian’s gonna win this. I think we all kinda know that."

"Tumblrinas would be nothing without Brian molko"

"Kills her kills her kills her kills her kills her kills him kills her. He's my everything <3"

"He came 10th in the list of hottest women sometimes in the 90s. Gender goals."

"No one in the world can sound so nasal and look so angelic....."

"don't you wish you had his gender"

"Single-handedly took my gender by the scruff of the neck and threw it in a washing machine at full speed. He talked about not expecting to "get away with" passing as a woman to the degree that he did when he started purposely presenting feminine. He talked about the importance to fuck with people's heads through his appearance and behaviour, the importance of ambiguity. About how being in the band allowed him to do stuff he couldn't have done otherwise, to exaggerate some of his traits. He had the fuck ass bob makeup nail polish dresses stuff down, but not in an overly sophisticated way, especially in the early career 90s days the vibe was more shabby punk rock chick. Also he fantasized about being in an all-girl band called Skirt and playing guitar and singing backing vocals in drag. According to a 1997 melody maker interview bandmate steve hewitt called him "the most confused woman he's ever known". And if you go down that rabbit hole there's just more of this. Lots of material to focus on if you like genderweird bisexual unclean libertines (song ref) who will just say Anything in interviews. It's fun."

"I've drawn him as saints and martyrs such as saint sebastian and joan of arc. Or all bloody lying in a wet alley after being thrown out of a club. Or unconscious on a snowy road. Or dying in a glue trap. Or shocked after seeing a dead body. Also as a nun and as rose mcgowan in the doom generation. This is because I'm normal."

"She's a sick little angel faced freak. My theythem girlboy queen. He reminds me of an ant. He's like 5 foot 4 or something. My goth girl boyfriend. <3"

[blues824]

Would it be possible to ask for the Housewardens from Twisted Wonderland having an s/o who's a lot like Kozume Kenma from Haikyuu? I didn't see Haikyuu in the fandoms you write for but I saw a request for Hinata Shoyo!Reader so I'm a little confused.

I don’t write for the Fandom Haikyuu!, but I will write about a reader/OC based on a character from that Fandom. This goes for any Fandom not on my Fandom list.

Gender neutral reader who is not Yuu, but is from Yuu’s world.

Riddle Rosehearts 

You were quiet and more reserved, much like the King of Hearts. He didn’t care for the video games that took your attention away from him, but there were worse hobbies (i.e. causing trouble with the ADeuce duo). As long as you showed respect for him and the rules, all is well.

When you told the first years that they didn’t need to show you any formalities as their upperclassman, your boyfriend nearly lost it. In his mind, the first years were of the lowest rank and needed to show their respect, especially if it was his significant other. As his ‘co-ruler’, you needed to be held in the highest regard.

He thought you were very shy at first, and it wasn’t until you played in the Spelldrove tournament where he saw your more competitive side. It threw him in for a loop, to say the least. You later admitted that you didn’t care at all for the sport even though you carried the team. You said that you wanted to win because of your friends, and the young Rosehearts boy thought it was admirable.

If you continued to play volleyball, Riddle would support you to the fullest degree. He would be at each and every practice and game, cheering the loudest. He would force the entire dorm to support you as well, and volleyball has now become a huge sport at NRC thanks to you.

Leona Kingscholar

He hated the fact that you played video games constantly, as it stole your attention all the time. He’s touch starved, don’t you know? Plus, you were his herbivore. He was losing to a freaking device. This jealousy came from a place of insecurity, because how could he compete with a game?

Leona doesn’t really care if you wish to skip formalities with the First Years. Hell, it might actually be a benefit to Savanaclaw, since they would be more comfortable with you. But, now that he thinks more about it, the more he dislikes the idea. Not only were you an unofficial member of royalty by being his significant other, but he doesn’t want you getting close to anyone besides himself.

The first time he saw your more competitive side was in-game. You were definitely fast and agile, and you definitely carried the entire freaking team. Savanaclaw still got 2nd, but y’all lost only by 1 point to Diasomnia. Leona wasn’t even mad about it, he was mad at how his team just relied on you to do everything.

If you decide to introduce volleyball to NRC, the young prince would support you both financially and practically. He might even take up the sport, as long as you were his teacher. He wouldn’t mind some ‘personal lessons’ either~. 

Azul Ashengrotto

He doesn’t care that you play video games until you are pretty far into your relationship with each other. He gets kind of clingy, especially after a rough day, and all he wants is your undivided attention and affection as a reward. How cruel you must be to deny him of a simple request such as this.

Azul doesn’t mind you ditching formalities with the First Years, as it’s very likely that you both have special nicknames for each other. It might be a bit weird for him to get used to at first, though. In addition to that, you are very close to the FY’s, adopting them as your ‘younger brothers’. 

In the Spelldrive tournament, you were on Octavinelle’s team, and you were a beast. Your beloved cecaelia was watching from the bleachers, and he noticed that  you were quick on your feet and good at making quick strategies on the field. One of the other players got a bloody nose because you shoved them face-first into the grass. Needless to say, you were the MVP.

When you voiced your desire to bring volleyball to NRC, he was worried about you getting hurt. However, he’s not going to stop you from playing. He will blackmail Crowley so that he establishes a volleyball club next year, and you start making plans for the next year. Azul helps you, and he becomes a sponsor for your beloved sport.

Kalim Al-Asim

He doesn’t know much about video games, but he’s definitely willing to learn about them! In addition to that, he’s the kind of guy who would get you the newest video game and keep track of when certain updates or sequels come out just so you don’t have to. He puts it all in his calendar that’s shared with you.

Kalim also doesn’t use any formalities with the First Years, so it would be hypocritical of him to judge you for doing the same thing. Any students going into Scarabia are put at ease because of you, and grow excited and eager because of your boyfriend.

You most definitely carried the dorm’s Spelldrive team, and it upset your lover because he was worried that either you or Jamil would get hurt. You did great, and he made sure to tell you that, but he knew that his dorm members would have to train harder so that they didn’t rely on you or his Vice Housewarden.

I think this man remembers small things about you, like how you mentioned that you liked to play volleyball. He had never heard of that sport, so he will ask you a bunch of questions about it. He even wants to learn, and that’s the start of your little club.

Vil Schoenheit

This man simply does not have the time for such frivolous things like video games. He has done some voice acting for some, though, to get some more experience with being a VA. Your obsession with video games is something he doesn’t understand, but he does feel a swell of pride in his chest whenever he hears a character that he voiced.

You not forcing formalities upon the First Years is a very foreign concept to him. He definitely makes them use the proper honorifics when addressing himself, as it is a sign of respect and superiority. However, if you don’t want that, he won’t make them use them for you. 

He had never gotten to experience your competitive side until the Spelldrive tournament. Vil was glad that you were playing for Pomefiore, considering you destroyed almost everyone. You placed the dorm in 3rd place behind Diasomnia and Savanaclaw. You later explained that you had no interest in the sport, and only tried because you loved him. You truly were a flatterer.

If you wanted to bring volleyball into Twisted Wonderland, your best bet is to get Vil into it as well. He has a shit-ton of followers on Magicam, and he will have you make instructional videos with him so that the sport gets tons of popularity. He enjoys it a lot, too.

Idia Shroud

A literal match made in Olympus. You both bond over gaming, and probably met each other online through a lobby. You both simp over the same characters, you main the same characters, you help each other out, and Idia just loves you so much because you understand him.

No one ever really sees him, but when they do they use the proper formalities that come with him being the Ignihyde Housewarden as well as an upperclassman. He might just wear a sign that says that they don’t have to, since the honorifics freak him out. You often have to be there to calm him down and explain to the younger students that you both can be called just by your first names.

The first time he got to see your really fierce side was when you were playing for Ignihyde in the Spelldrive tournament. You carried the team, but your strategy was pristine and your boyfriend definitely noticed. Mans was jotting down notes quicker than Usain Bolt can run.

If you tell him that you wanted to start playing volleyball again, he would build a court simulation that could allow you to get practice in. Then, it could be used to teach other students how to play. Idia tried it once, and found that he absolutely did not like it. The only good thing was how you played with his ponytail as you tried to comfort him.

Malleus Draconia

He does not understand video games at all, nor does he understand your obsession over them. He often finds it frustrating that he has to constantly compete against a device he knows nothing about for your attention. Finally, a worthy adversary.

Malleus wishes to have a close connection with the younger students, but his retainers refuse and say that it could disrupt his image as the Crowned Prince and Rightful Heir to the Throne of Briar Valley. He is often jealous when you tell the First Years that they can throw away the honorifics when talking to and about you. 

When he found out that you made it onto the Diasomnia Spelldrive team, he was angry. You could get hurt was all that was going through his mind. However, he was surprised at how fast you were and how quickly you were able to make decisions on the spot. You both ruled over the field, to say the least. Diasomnia won by a large margin.

The second that you tell him that you want to teach people to play volleyball, he is all in for it. Training for his dorm starts the next day, and he will use his power to make sure that Crowley supports your dream. He is a very quick learner, but he will make sure that he gets something wrong in his stance so that you could touch him in order to fix it.

[crisalidaseason]

sooo, is it too unusual to ask something w dark armin? like his SO got hurt and he is livid and gets revenge, also everyone is a bit scared of his behavior

i'm so starved for dark protective armin fics

Sorry it took me ages to answer this!!!! Also, Interesting ask...I think I have an idea. Hope you enjoy it!

CW and tags: Slight out of character Armin, protecive Armin, a bit dark Armin, gender neutral reader, "who did this to you" trope, blank period between S3 and S4, canonverse, relationship status not clear, mentions of blood, violence.

A little rat.

Something people often called Armin due to his tendencies of sneaking around, creepily watching and listening, acting below the radar. The blond boy was never one to enjoy theatrics, attention, thus the nickname made sense. Armin enjoyed it even, being discreet within his action, he benefited from it.

---

The bruise on your left cheek was impossible to conceal and you accepted the countless questions your friends would ask. You were building a lie while your steps guided you to the mess hall - despite your disinterest for dinner. As your fingers brushed on the tender skin, images of the other soldier's bloody nose and mouth were enough to satisfy yourself.

You could defend yourself. Armin knew that.

But as soon as his beautiful blue eyes landed on the dark blemish his gaze went from tired to unreadable. He did not say anything - unlike the others, who kept asking 'what happened' 'who did this!' - he remained silent during dinner. You told your lie - physical combat training - but Armin did not react nor did he say a word, only his hardened eyes occasionally looking at the bruise.

His knuckles were white while gripping his cutlery.

You knew he would ask as soon as nobody was on sight. His steps were silent, but you could feel him behind you. Cold fingers touched your elbow softly, guiding you to a quiet corridor, under a staircase.

"Armin-"

"Who"

Armin made it impossible to lie. There was something about his blue eyes, soft and yet handsome features, that made your stomach revolt with the mere thought of lying to him.

"It doesn't matter-"

"It does" his jaw became even more defined as it clenched.

The blue eyes were still hard to read, but there was a stormy sea in them. You knew this look - a mind working full speed on hypothesis.

"Who did this?" his voice was soft and calm, monotonous. A happy and excited Armin almost sang when he spoke.

"He is way worse, Armin" you tried "I gave him what he deserved-"

"I. Want. A. Name." the sea was simmering, the point of boiling coming soon.

You gave him the name. You told him everything. Because there was nothing you could ever hide from Armin.

___

"You're quiet" Mikasa spoke "you usually don't shut up when you're researching"

The brunette girl was sitting on the chair next to his - running away from her brother's apathetic behavior. Hange's office was usually free for Armin to use, for him to read and debate strategies with the current commander.

"There is nothing to speak about" he said.

He saw Mikasa's head tilt to the side, she knew him too much.

"You're angry" she concluded "Eren said something to you again?"

Armin sighed in frustration. Denying with a mere head movement.

"You're not going to tell me, are you?" she said.

He wouldn't. She would stop him and do it herself. He could not loose the opportunity.

---

You were just released from the meeting with your squad when a desperate Sasha collided with you in the middle of the hall.

"I'm sorry, so sorry!" she was frantic.

You were beyond confused.

"What happened?" you asked her.

"Armin was arrested!"

You felt your blood pool around your feet, leaving nothing but cold limbs. Barely able to ask her to elaborate.

"I heard Hange had to give him a corrective punishment for assaulting a cadet"

You wanted to feel surprised, but you couldn't. Armin was capable of horrible things if it meant keeping his loved ones safe. Violence was never his first choice, but it was there...always.

___

Armin was a patient man. If he could avoid acting on emotion, he would. Waiting for the anger to stop bubbling left him rational enough to plan carefully.

The cadet in question was an ex-MP. Typical.

Taller than Armin, stronger built. Forgetful face and name, just another soldier amongst hundreds that enlisted after Wall Maria's expedition.

Armin watched him for days, weeks. His routine, his tasks, when he was alone or surrounded. He observed, always keeping his anger at bay. A thursday afternoon, nearing the end of the fifth hour, was the perfect time frame for Armin to act.

Armin was proud of his rational thinking, but all good plans had a hint of recklessness.

"You have one minute to explain why you hurt them"

Alone in the stables, the cadet turned to see no other than the bearer of the Colossal titan.

"Who the fuck you're talking about?"

"Forty seconds" Armin replied, stance completely relaxed.

The cadet chuckled.

"come on" the soldier said "they can throw a punch, I respect that, but you? I-"

"I asked why and you are going to answer why. Thirty seconds"

The soldier - not knowing Armin at all - should have noticed the way his limbs contracted and his eyes focused into him.

"They hit me first" the cadet complained "I was just joking, said some shit and they didn't like it apparently"

"And what did you say?"

___

"Was it because of me?" he pleaded, hands afraid of touching the bruised skin "please, tell me"

"It's not worth repeating what he said"

"I want to know!"

There were tears trying to escape his eyes, his fingers trembling with anger.

"They don't do this to Mikasa or Eren, but I know they say things to you"

"Armin..."

"Please"

___

The colossal was in all shapes and forms a demon in his body. A demon he hated more than anything.

But there were undeniable benefits of hosting such demon.

A cracking sound of another bone breaking. The cadet fell on the gate of a horse stall, struggling to breathe.

"Tell me" Armin's voice was on the verge of breaking into screaming, but he knew better.

"Repeat to me exactly what you told them and I'll consider letting you walk out of here alive"

The soldier coughed and groaned, trying to get up. Armin was faster, stomping his foot on the man's chest, right below his rib-cage, where he knew it would render the cadet breathless.

"Come on, tell me" Armin warned again

___

Your voice trembled as you repeated the words to an anxious and angry Armin.

"He called you a rat and..."

___

"...and they were the scum" the cadet struggled to repeat.

"And what else?"

The man took too long to answer, Armin's patience running thin.

"That...I could" the man coughed blood "could not wait for you to die"

___

"And then I hit him" you concluded "I shouldn't, but I was so furious that I could not let him walk out intact"

___

Armin kicked the man one more time below the ribs, for sure breaking another floating one.

"Next time you have a problem with my existence, talk to me" Armin said quietly "You can call me names, even hit me, but if you ever do anything remotely threatening towards them again...I will kill you"

He left the man on the stables, walking steadily to Hange's office. Consequences must be paid.

___

Besides you, Mikasa was the only one not panicking. The two of you were not close - she was extremely reserved - but there was mutual respect. She was the only one who did not bombard you with questions, already aware of what could have happened.

"Is he in the dungeons?" you asked her.

Mikasa nodded. Hange's office was full of the veterans of the 104th squad, yet you felt alone in that moment. Armin was being punished and it was your fault.

"Nothing is going to happen" Hange said, entering the office "he is far too important for an actual imprisonment, but I had to keep appearances"

"Did he say something?" Jean inquired "we all know Armin's not a saint, but sudden violence is very uncommon for him"

The commander's eyes asked the same question as they landed on you. They were trying to understand. You and Armin interacted discreetly in public, like acquaintances. Hange was trying to understand why someone like you would trigger such a violent unusual behavior from Armin Arlert.

"I was hoping you could explain" They said to you "your captain told me you had corrective punishment from assaulting the same guy about two weeks ago"

The others were silent, looking at you. Waiting for an answer while trying to connect the dots. The only one who did not wonder was her. Mikasa knew of Armin's affection towards you, that it was beyond a building frienship or quick burning passion.

___

Armin heard you first. Steps descending the long stairs of the dungeons. As your familiar frame appeared, he stood up and leaned on the bars of the cell. You did not look him in the eyes, staring at a point in front of you.

You were angry. He had no regrets.

"Was it necessary?" you whispered.

"Yes" he replied without hesitation "would do it again"

You looked at his profile, an elegant man even behind bars. His white shirt was stained and tucked out of his pants, yet he left you breathless. You could defend yourself, but there was something warming about him going to extremes for you. It might have suprised the the others, but not you.

You would hurt and kill for him either.

[batztrangem]

Art the Clown Relationship Headcanons

Author's Note: You guys can judge me all you want. I've said it in the past and I'll say it again: I love clowns. I love clowns a little too much actually. I just can't explain it. Anyways here's some relationship headcanons for Art because I don't see a lot of people write about him and I have a death wish because I really, really want to hug him.

Warnings/notes: Gender Neutral Reader, mentioned canon typical violence

• First things first, I don't think that Art really cares about being in a relationship. I don't think the idea of a relationship would even gloss over his mind if you hadn't had brought it up.

• That being said, Art takes a while to come around. His feelings for you are confusing. When he first met you he couldn't decide if you were his next victim or not.

• Also, a relationship? All he can think is, "Why would they want to be in a relationship with me?"

• But alas, Art comes around. And being his partner is...interesting.

• I don't think Art really has a home. There's no indication that he does. So expect random visits from a very bloody clown at the most odd hours of the night.

• If you're even the tiniest bit squeamish over blood, Art is not the one for you. Most of time when he comes home, he's drenched in it.

• Also Art is not very understanding of personal boundaries. He will ditch the clown suit in front of you without even thinking about it. And Terrifier 2 confirmed that he, in fact, doesn't wear underwear underneath it.

• Art will attempt to respect your boundaries after a lot of explaining.

• When it comes to affection, Art is interesting to say the least.

• He's surprisingly very huggy. He's also very keen on forehead and nose kisses.

• He really likes to hug you from behind. He wraps his arms around tight and puts his head in the crook of your neck.

• Sometimes Art's way of showing affection can get out of hand though.

• "Real hearts are not acceptable Valentine's Day gifts, Art. And neither are eyeballs."

• If you're in a relationship with Art get ready for random clown nonsense happening way too often.

• The miming doesn't stop. Don't expect it to.

• And when I say you'll be dealing with clown stuff constantly, I mean it. That man will bring an air horn to bed and I'm not joking.

• I do feel like Art might do some of these things less if you've known him for a really long time though.

• Depending on how long you've been with Art, you will eventually see him without the clown makeup.

• Not many things scare Art, but anyone seeing his face is without the makeup is definitely one of them. It's one of the only times you'll see Art vulnerable.

• In the end, Art is a handful to be with. But he's surprisingly sweet to be around.

• Just remember, there is no such thing as changing Art the Clown. Good luck even trying.

[cinmngirlnfr]

Don't

Edmund Pevensie x Reader

In my mind, Edmund Pevensie is a Dorky Nerd

Summary: Before the battle in miraz's castle, Edmund tries to convince Y/N to not go to the battle, but things took turn when he ends up conffesing his fellings.

Y/N was sharpening her sword. She looked around her "room", it was very generous to call it a room though. Let's just say that the fortress were Caspian had leaded them to, their base is you must, and where the stone table used to be (and it still is, just broken), was not particulary cozy. She had a discomfort look on her face, yes, she loved Narnia and she would do anything for her people, but is not like she found battles apealing.

She was on her way to put her armor on when someone busted through the door. It was Edmund, hyperventilating.

"Excuse you?" Y/N asked a bit annoyed, he could have at least knocked.

"Sorry" Edmund had a looked of concern on his face "Is it true?"

"What ever are you talking about?" Y/N asked.

"That you are going to the battle, is it true?" Edmund asked with a more stern tone.

"Yeah...?" Y/N was kinda confused, it was not her first battle, back when they lived in Narnia, The golden years, She would atend to any battle or figth there was, she was very skilled at it, and it shoudn't be surprising that she was going to this one.

"No you are not!" Said Edmund almost like in a childish tone.

"Why not?" Y/N asked annoyed, he was acting very strange.

"You just can't" Edmund looked nervous, like if he was holding something from her, and she hated liars, or in this case, not being told things that were directly related to her.

"Yes I can, and I will!" She started getting defensive, and her insecure thoughts started to appear. Was this because she was a girl? i wouldn't be the first time somebody understimated her because of her gender, all though she never expected that kind of behavior from her dearest friend, Edmund. Maybe, when they had came back to England, the boys from his school had contaminated him with misogynistic ideas.

"No, you will not!" Said Edmund, starting to raise his tone of voice, something he did when he felt frustrated, whitch often happened while he treated with Y/N, because it was very rare the ocation when she actually listened to him.

She rolled her eyes, and continued with her preparation for the battle, she always thought that Edmund was smart... Book smart, not life smart... She actually belived Edmund to be very Dorky when it came to real life problems, yes, he was wicked smart when it came to play chess or to solve a math problem, but not so smart in social/emotional matters... He just needed a little reality check sometimes. Most of the times Y/N would just ignore him when he was being ridiculous.

"Y/N, are you listening to me?!" His face was very flustered with frustration, she didn't answered. "Please! you must not go!"

"And why is that?" Y/N was just listening orders but not explanations. He just mumbled something to himself. "Why is that?" she spoke louder, more intimidating.

"You could get hurt..." He said in a shy demeanor. She coudn't help but chuckle.

"Getting hurt? Yeah, of course i could, is a damn battle! im not stupid" she said as if it wasn't a big deal, and it wasn't for her, she would die for her nation a thousand and one times if it was necessary.

"Well, you are acting very stupid rigth now!" she felt the urge to punch him.

"Me?! Me Stupid?!" She got closer to him "I'm a better figther than you and your brother together! I have to go to the battle, I'm not turning my back on Narnia for your bloody tantrum!" She didn't realized how close they were, their chests were almost touching, she was breathing heavealy and he was very flustered. Both of them were mad at each other, but for very different reasons.

"You could die!"

"So could you!"

"But I don't want you to!..." His voice cracked a little "I don't want to live without you..." He admitted shyly, and now her eyes full of fury were filled with confusion and tendernes, she had to admit that was kinda sweet.

"Im still going Edmund... " She tried to say in a softer demeanor, she now understood were he was coming from, she still thought it was stupid, but it also melted her heart.

"I know..." He cupped her cheeks with his hands, and then he leaned to give her a soft kiss on the lips, she was stuned to say the least, but she didn't felt any feeling of rejection, quite the opposite actually.

When they separated he looked at her in the eyes with love, but also a bit of shynes.

"...Wh-what?..." Scaped her lips in a gasp, she was very confused, She always belived Edmund to be very handsome... But she always thought he saw her as a sister, he never gave any sings of even felling atractted to her. But Y/N never noticed how much Edmund Liked her, since he had a very wierd way of express it, When he was mean or sassy, when he was clumsy or dorky in front of her, it was just how he flirted (No need to say that it was wierd way of showing love), But i mean, he never had to learn how to flirt, back in the golden years, when they lived on Narnia, Girls would just make lines to talk to him, he was handsome, he was a King, he didn't needed to flirt.

"I love you..." He said. "Sorry for realizing so late about it..." She tilted her head and smiled.

"You wove me?" She mocked him pouting and chuckling a little.

"Shut up!" He laughed. She smiled and grabbed him by the collar, she gave him a very heated kiss, that made him a little dizzy, but in the good way, a total contrast from the soft and tender kiss he had gave her. He kissed her as if he was afraid of breaking her, She was kissing him as if her intention was to break him.

When they separated she smirked from the dumb smile Edmund had On his face "I'm still going to the battle, Pevensie"

"Uh...huh" Was the only thing he managed to say.

[blossom-hwa]

memory lane | j.yh

I'm nearly two years late but in my defense I had this written for months already, I was just too lazy to create a graphic for it until now. anyway, this was sparked by the memory lane trip that dr. strange took in multiverse of madness - there are definitely spoilers (check the warnings below) and this story might be confusing if you haven't seen the dr. strange and spiderman movies so keep that in mind!

I made some changes to the plots of both movies, so bear this in mind - y/n instead of mingi (ned's counterpart) is the one with sorcery potential and later joins dr. strange at the sanctum, so y/n is the one who goes universe hopping with america chavez and ends up replaying memories they'd forgotten from when dr. strange erased all memories of spiderman (yunho). this story takes place after they've defeated wanda and returned to the sanctum. this should sum up the biggest changes, hope it helps :)

Pairing: Yunho x gender neutral!reader

Genre: angst (happy ending), Spiderman!au

Warnings: spoilers for the last Dr. Strange and Spiderman movies

Word Count: 5.3k

When you return to the Sanctum, armed with a name and the knowledge of a love you don't remember, you go searching for answers. 

Ateez Masterlist

When the dust has cleared at Mount Wungadore and they’ve all made it back to the Sanctum, it takes Strange a few hours to realize that there’s something wrong with his apprentice. Not just the exhaustion, not just the trauma of universe hopping and fighting the most powerful witch in all of the infinite number of universes in existence—that would be normal. This is something different. Something darker.

Something more broken.

“Dr. Strange,” you say later that night when it’s just the two of you, everyone else gone to bed. Flames crackle in the fireplace, glowing weirdly on your face. “Do you remember what happened with Spiderman?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Spiderman?” He knows you were there, remembers that’s how he became aware of your potential for sorcery, but you’ve never really talked about it.

“Yeah.”

He tells you what he remembers. A spell, rips in the universe, a vigilante who wouldn’t let the aberrations die. The mirror dimension, hanging over the Grand Canyon for way too fucking long, and a second spell to right the wrongs of the first.

You take it all in silence, not a single question asked until the end. “Do you remember what the second spell was?”

He looks at you. You don’t look back.

“No.”

“…Okay.”

He ends up leaving first, exhaustion pulling his eyelids down to the point he can barely keep them open as he climbs up the Sanctum’s stairs. He tells you to rest, and you nod, but he’s still not quite certain you heard.

You probably didn’t. Because in the morning when he wakes, you’re gone, only a text left on his phone to give any clue as to where you went.

Gone to visit a friend. I’ll be back. I’m fine.

Please don’t follow me.

. . . . .

Standing in front of the apartment door, an arm raised to knock, you feel like time has been frozen still.

“Memory Lane. Replay your significant memories, now at a discounted price! We remember, so you don’t forget.”

A boy in the spider-suit, face bloodied, eyes broken. A wavering smile on his lips that couldn’t disguise the tears rolling down his face. Hugging you and Mingi with arms so strong but trembling so much you could—you could almost feel them shaking around your shoulders. Eyes zeroing in on the wound on your head, a short gash that left the scar you could never for your life remember where it came from—

He saw it. And asked about it. And heard your babbled reassurances, instinctively steadying you on your bad leg (how did he know? How did he know if you never knew him?) as you and Mingi tried to speak, before saying the words you don’t remember.

“You’re going to forget who I am.”

You swallow hard, trying to reconcile the smiling boy you’d met during your third fight ever with the broken, bloodied man standing before you in that moment. They had the same suit—nearly. Not quite. But they had the same face. The same eyes.

And though you didn’t have a name then, now you do.

“I love you.”

“I love you, Yunho Jeong.”

You loved a boy whose name you don’t know. And he—

He loved you too.

Nausea rolls in your stomach. Your arm has begun to ache from holding it up for so long, but you can’t bring yourself to knock. What if he refuses to hear you? What if he doesn’t want you to remember, doesn’t want you to ask? What if he just isn’t home? You don’t know if you could find the courage to come back again. You can already feel the adrenaline high of the past few days beginning to fade, that initial burst of anger and courage (or was it foolishness? Right now you can’t quite tell) falling away to reveal your confused and broken core.

Your sight blurs, the four numbers marking Spiderman’s door (Yunho’s door, your brain corrects you, and it’s unsettling how easily the name seems to roll off the tongue of your mind though you know you never knew it until the trip down Memory Lane) swimming in your vision. One zero two four. You remember it from the day you walked him back, one of his arms slung around your shoulders, one leg broken and propped up by a cast of your own magic.

The moment had felt—familiar, you remember. Vaguely. At least in the way his tired laughs left his lips, in the way he joked about the villain who had left him in this state, in the way he thanked you as he lay on his bed, the magic cast fizzling out of sight, his reassurance that he’d be healed by morning. It had felt easy, somehow. Like you’d done this before, or something similar.

At the time, you’d brushed it off as Spiderman’s charisma with everybody. The times you interacted with him, watched him fend off villains and help the elderly cross the sidewalk in just two breaths showed you enough. That infectious laugh, the witty barbs, his charming easiness with every person he encountered, villain or no, weren’t special somethings reserved for you, which you reminded yourself in the moments you thought that might be true.

But maybe it was true. That trip down memory lane told you that you knew him even before you did. Knew Spiderman, knew him deeply, knew him well enough to know his name, Yunho Jeong—

Knew him enough that you could kiss him and tell him you loved him, twice, even without the promise of a response.

“Wait. Wait and tell me when you see me again.”

He’d promised. With a nod, and a smile, and words said before that you know from the memory but still don’t remember. He’d said it, sworn it—

“It’s okay. I’m gonna come and find you and—and I’ll explain everything. I’ll make you remember me.” A deep, rattling breath. “And it’ll be like none of this ever happened.”

Yet he never came to find you. For what reason, you don’t know. But you found him. Over and over, you found him—during fights, on trips to the bodega, several times in the Sanctum. And he never said anything.

The ache of a memory that is yours but isn’t thuds dully in your chest. You need to know if it was real. And it if was…

You need to know why he never returned.

Your knuckles rap the door sharply—once, twice, three times. Something clangs and there’s a loud curse in a voice you properly remember, not just know from your trip down memory lane.

Footsteps sound. Something clicks in the door. You have just one moment to prepare yourself before it swings open—

Yunho Jeong’s face stares at you, confused, kind, smiling. If you hadn’t been watching so carefully, you would’ve missed the millisecond of hope and panic that flashed across his eyes that confirms everything you’ve conjectured so far.

You’re not sure how to feel about it.

“Good morning?” He laughs a little, and he’s so good at acting—so damn good, did he take acting classes before? Not that you would’ve known since you only got that one significant memory before you shoved America Chavez on, but you want to grab his shoulders and shake him hard enough to tug those memories loose and plant them back in your own damn head—

“Yunho Jeong.” You take a step forward. “We have a lot to talk about.”

. . . . .

His eyes are guarded when he lets you in the door, but he lets you sit on the couch before he lets loose with a question, more of a statement, of his own. “You know my name.”

You probe his gaze carefully. For once, it flickers as you stare at him, a shard of that steady, easy confidence he’s always had (was there a time he didn’t have it? Were you there when that was the case?) chipped and dropped into somewhere unknown. He doesn’t flinch away, though, not like you originally expected him to.

Maybe it isn’t just paranoia and caution behind those guarded walls, your mind whispers. Maybe there’s a bit of hope, too.

The thought is too much for you to handle, so for all your original bravado you’re the one who looks away first. “I do.”

Spiderman’s—Yunho’s—voice nearly trembles with how carefully he measures his next word. “How?”

You take a deep breath. How do you even start?

“I recently took a…trip, of sorts, with Dr. Strange.” Not really—it was more so just with America, but Spiderman doesn’t know America and you probably shouldn’t be telling anyone about her until Dr. Strange gives the okay. “Went universe hopping. Mostly unintentionally.” Ignoring Spiderman’s—Yunho, Jesus fucking Christ—sharp intake of breath, you continue. “One of them had a curious feature called Memory Lane. For a price, it would replay your most significant memories.” You swallow. “I got a…free trial, of sorts.”

The silence that follows your statement hangs heavily in the air. Never, not once in the time you’ve known him (at least not the second time you knew him, if the first time even existed) did you think Yunho (it’s still strange how not strangely the name flows through your mind) could have let such a tension weigh the conversation—he’s always been so charismatic, so ready to smile and laugh and joke away any heaviness that came. Hell, even when he had a leg snapped into so many pieces only a cast of glowing golden threads was holding it together, he wore a smile on the way back. But in the face of your words, Yunho’s head has fallen, the strong shoulders tensed to snap, his clasped hands trembling underneath his chin…

He looks up, straight at you. His eyes have fragmented and the shards you see in them frightens you—that’s just not a look that belongs on Yunho’s face. He looks ten, twenty, thirty years older than he is (your age, he’d told you with the perfect amount of surprise and warmth on his face the day you’d told him, the first time you’d had more than a few minutes to get to know each other more), with the tortured memories of someone who’s lived through millennia. And, you realize with a pang, there’s a reason for that. Because if you forgot him, if Mingi forgot him, how many others did?

And if you meant so much to him in that life you don’t remember, how much has he had to keep to himself in order to keep you from knowing?

“What did you see?” he asks quietly, hands clasped so tightly his knuckles have turned white. “If it’s okay to tell me, of course.”

Tears bubble in the corners of your eyes. That gentleness, that consideration, feels so warm. So very warm and familiar.

“I was with you. And Mingi. We were hugging.” You swallow. “You looked…beat up, but you still asked about a wound on my head.”

Yunho’s gaze flutters in the direction you knew it’d go, just to the side of your right eyebrow. Your fingers itch to rise, to touch the scarred flesh that’s still there, but you hold your twitching hands still.

“And then you said we were going to forget who you were.”

He goes still at that, still as a statue. It’s funny—there have been a few times where you mused, internally of course, that Yunho’s face—just Spiderman at the time—could have been sculpted by one of the gods, should they exist. A beaming statue of a hero, waiting for thousands to thank and worship him. But now, as he stares at you with no expression on his face, stone still and truly a human statue if there ever was one…

You promise yourself never to make the statue comparison again, because the warm Yunho, the alive Yunho, is the only one you’d ever want to know.

Swallowing hard, you open your mouth. And close it. Not because you don’t know what to say, because you do—it’s just recounting a memory that isn’t yours, basically a scene from a movie, how hard could it be—but because when you try to speak, you can’t. Your voice is gone.

Yunho’s eyes are shiny. A little too shiny. And there’s a little too much hope in them, now, a hope that makes you want to dig yourself into a hole and have someone cover up the dirt behind you. Because—it’s not right, that hope, it’s not right because you know what Yunho wants isn’t what happened.

He speaks first. “You…remember?”

“I—” You dig your fingernails into your palms so hard it hurts. “I don’t.”

His face falls. Crumbles. And this time, unlike all the other times you didn’t understand before when he’d see you and you’d do something—anything—and his face would do something strange for a second before his easy smile came back up—

He doesn’t try to pull it back together.

“I—saw it.” Your mouth moves on autopilot, trying to patch up a situation you’re not sure you can but anything, anything to bring something back to Yunho’s face. Even the terrible hope was better than this. “I saw it—and—I can’t say I remember it, exactly, because I don’t, but it—it felt like it explained things.”

Yunho looks up. Just barely. But he does.

“You—I’m comfortable with you.” Once it’s out in the open, you realize how stupid it sounds, but you barge forward because who the fuck cares anymore. “And I know—I know a lot of people probably say that, but—even at that first fight, it was like…it was like I knew you a little. Somehow. Even though to my knowledge I had never seen you before.” You wince at how that must sound but Yunho doesn’t, his eyes now fixated more firmly on yours. “A lot of things felt…familiar. Just stuff like your laugh. Smile. The way we could banter and talk and I—just—fuck!” Your own vehemence startles you and you slap your palms to your eyes and to your surprise, you find tears meeting your skin.

Damn it, you really hadn’t intended to cry when you came here.

“Y/N?”

You swallow the lump in your throat, scrub at your eyes with the heels of your palms. “I’m sorry,” you say, and wow your voice sounds so much more ragged than you thought it was. “I’m sorry. I—it all sounds stupid. I don’t know how to explain it. I just know that…sometimes, being around you felt like déjà vu. In some weird way.” The lump in your throat seems bent on returning so you swallow hard again. “The memory that I saw. It made some things, like that, make sense. But other things didn’t.”

“…What didn’t?”

It takes everything left in you to meet Yunho’s gaze. The adrenaline rush of yesterday’s fight has finally faded away fully and you think you might collapse soon, but you force your voice to remain steady even as a stray tear makes it cold way down your cheek.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

. . . . .

For a long moment, Yunho doesn’t speak.

“I…was going to tell you,” he finally says. “I was. When you still had your job at the diner, I was going to go in and…tell you everything. Like I’d promised to. I was—” He laughs a little, broken and fragmented. “I was right outside. I could see you. Mingi was at the counter, too.”

There were many days like those. You’re not sure which one this was. “I didn’t see you.”

“No, you didn’t,” Yunho agrees. “But I saw you. And I saw your scar.”

This time, you can’t stop your hand from touching the warped skin on your forehead.

Yunho’s eyes track the movement. “I had a whole speech written out, you know.” That same broken, fragmented laugh from before. “It was on a piece of paper. I was going to read it to you two. But I saw your scar and…you were laughing. You looked so happy. I couldn’t ruin that.” He smiles a little, but it doesn’t reach his eyes at all. “When you knew I was Spiderman, all it did was cause you pain. And harm.”

You open your mouth to refute, but you can’t. Because you don’t remember anything. Not at all.

“Something happened to just about everyone I cared about who knew my secret.” Yunho’s voice drops. “So I thought it would be better if you didn’t know. It would be better if no one knew. Just the way it was after that day.”

“But—Yunho, I—” Words trip over your tongue and for a moment you still can’t speak, not for lack of thought but for too much. “We—you didn’t give us a choice. How did you know we wouldn’t—”

“You were at the battle.” Yunho’s words cut through your own like a knife and you almost flinch. “A battle I caused because I was an idiot. You don’t remember what happened, do you?”

Slowly, you shake your head.

“I went to Dr. Strange with a request. To wipe everyone’s memory of the fact that Yunho Jeong and Spiderman were one and the same. So many shit things had happened to me—and us—because of Mysterio’s stupid fucking video. College admissions, people taking potshots at us across the street…” He takes a deep, shaky breath. “He almost did. But I kept interrupting with exceptions. People I still wanted to remember me. You. Mingi. Aunt Mei. Happy. And that…that messed the spell up.”

You sit silent, quiet as Yunho tells you about the multiverse, about the other villains who knew him but whom he’d never faced—at least not in this world. He tells you about Aunt Mei, how Osborn had found her, how she’d pressed it into him that all of them needed help, not just to be sent back to their respective universes to die, and how he’d decided she was right.

She had been right, Yunho stresses. But she’d paid for it. With her life.

There, Yunho stops talking for a moment. Puts his hands over his face and breathes deeply once, twice. When he finally looks up, his eyes look redder.

“I’m sorry.” You wince as soon as you say the words, how flat they fall in the silence. But the thing is—you knew Mei. Somewhat. You remember her face, her smile, her burned cookies—you remember her, if not necessarily her nephew. She was a good woman, one of the kindest people you’d ever had the luck to meet. “I…remembered her. Somewhat. Probably not as much as I would have…before, but…”

“Yeah,” is all Yunho says. “Yeah.”

He continues. Two Spidermen, two Yunho Jeongs from separate universes. They looked nothing like him and apparently you summoned them with rings stolen from Dr. Strange himself (so maybe some things are best left not remembered, because if Dr. Strange doesn’t remember this you’re not sure you want him to). Back in their own worlds, they’d faced the villains he’d failed to corral here. They worked together and there was a fight at the Statue of Liberty and you and Mingi were tasked with keeping the unbroken spell safe from Norman Osborn and later, Dr. Strange, too.

You failed.

“Osborn freed the spell,” Yunho says, grief and fury etched in every line of his face. “Broke the casing with one of his stupid little toys. And so all these people—villains, friends, I don’t know—from other universes started coming into ours. Dr. Strange couldn’t contain them.”

You’re starting to feel a little faint. “Oh my god.”

“Yeah,” Yunho breathes. “There was only one way to fix it. Everyone had to forget Yunho Jeong.” His eyes bore into yours.

Forget feeling faint. You think you’re about to be sick. “Everyone.”

“Everyone,” he repeats. A little dark laugh falls from his lips. “No exceptions this time.”

For a long moment, you sit in silence. All of this information—your brain was already exhausted from universe hopping and dealing with a crazy, grief-driven witch, and you got maybe three hours of sleep last night before you found your way here—it’s so much. Almost too much. Maybe you should’ve waited to confront Yunho, should’ve given it a couple of days of thinking before coming here all tongue-tied and stupid—

“But—Yunho. You promised to tell us. You promised to tell me and Mingi.” You can feel your face scrunching up like you’re about to cry again and you don’t need that, don’t need that right now at fucking all. “You could’ve told us—you didn’t have to go through this alone—”

“Yes, I did,” Yunho snaps. “It was my fault. All of this was my fault—”

“No, it fucking wasn’t!” you retort. “It was Mysterio’s fault—hell, it was mine and Mingi’s for not protecting the stupid spell enough—”

“No, it was mine, for trying to change something that couldn’t have been changed!” he yells. “I got the villains into our universe because I couldn’t think of anything beyond our fucking college admissions! I did a fuck up job of keeping the villains in line! I got Mei killed, I got you and Mingi injured, I caused so much trouble for Dr. Strange because I wasn’t thinking—”

“You were a kid!” you yell back. “We all were! Barely fucking eighteen! Not even college students, not even legal adults! And—Yunho! I may not remember anything, but I do fucking know that we never would’ve been coerced or something into helping you. You wouldn’t have done that! If we were helping you in that fight, it was because we agreed to, because we wanted to!”

“It doesn’t matter!” Yunho snaps. “It doesn’t matter that you wanted to! Because in the end, this was a fight that I started and that I should have ended myself! Instead, I got a whole bunch of other people involved and people were injured for it, people—people died for it, Y/N.” His face crumples, and he turns away.

All the fight leaves your body. You reach towards him, slowly take his hands in yours. To your surprise, he doesn’t tug them away.

“I wasn’t going to get you and Mingi killed off because I wanted you back,” Yunho whispers. “My fights were going to be on my terms and only mine. I know you fight now, as Dr. Strange’s apprentice—don’t bring that up with me. Those fights are your choices and on your terms.” Teary eyes look into yours and you can barely fight the urge to brush the wetness away. “It kills me to watch it happen, but that’s your choice. And I can’t interfere with that.” He takes a deep breath. “But I can interfere with the stuff that shouldn’t happen because it’s my fault.”

The anger starts to rise up in you once more. “You didn’t give either of us a choice in deciding that—”

“Right before Aunt Mei died, she told me something.” Yunho’s hands tremble in yours. “She said, ‘With great power, there must also come great responsibility.’”

You swallow hard.

“I don’t think I ever understood until then,” he says quietly. “Sure, I’d always known I had power, and I tried to use it well by being the friendly neighborhood Spiderman, you know. Protecting the little guy while others fight the big battles. But the responsibility…my lack of that is what started this whole thing in the first place.” Yunho swallows. “When I saw you and Mingi in the diner, and I made that choice. That was my responsibility. I wasn’t going to purposefully involve anyone else in my fights, my issues. Not now. Not anymore.”

One of his hands releases itself from yours. It rises toward the puckered scar, brushes it with a gentle touch. His fingertips tremble against your skin. “Do you know how you got this?” he asks, whisper soft.

Slowly, you shake your head.

“One of Osborn’s…gadgets, sliced you.” Yunho takes a deep, shaky breath, and you grip his hand harder. “And because of that, you—you fell. Right off the statue.”

You couldn’t speak right now, not even if you tried.

“You fell.” The words seem to rip themselves from Yunho’s throat and he looks away, his free hand covering his face for one, two awful moments before he turns back to you. “You fell, and I tried to catch you but Osborn knocked me out of the way midair, and it—it was only a miracle that one of the other Spidermen caught you. A miracle,” he repeats, almost as though he still doesn’t believe it.

This time you do reach up to brush the tears from his eyes. The movement feels so remarkably natural that you have to wonder how many times you made the same motion in a time before.

“I saw you with the scar. And suddenly I was there, watching you fall with no way to stop it.” Yunho squeezes his eyes shut. “I couldn’t have that happen again. Not to you. Not to anyone.”

His eyes open, and between the tears, all you can see is the certainty of his choice weighing dark in his pupils.

“Not because of me.”

. . . . .

Silence falls in Yunho’s studio apartment. The sun has risen, slats of pale light filtering through his windows, illuminating his face. In the glow of morning, Yunho’s young face only looks older.

And suddenly you feel guilty. So very guilty. You came to his apartment unannounced with a name in one hand, news you were certain he wouldn’t like in the other, and caused him pain. That was it. You forced him to relive all these memories, made him explain things he perhaps wasn’t ready to speak of, and yelled at him for a choice you’re not sure you would’ve made differently had you been in the same situation.

“I’m sorry,” you croak, throat suddenly choked. You drop his hands and step back, desperately trying to swallow your tears. “I—I shouldn’t have come.” Yunho’s eyebrows furrow, but you refuse to look at him. “It wasn’t my place to demand answers of you and I shouldn’t have yelled—”

“Y/N.”

This time it’s his hands that take yours, large and warm and gentle. You look down at your joined fingers, then up at his face. If you had loved each other as much as your memory would have you believe, this must have been a common occurrence.

No wonder it feels so safe.

“I don’t blame you,” he says, and it’s the steadiness of his gaze that convinces you he speaks true. “You had questions, and no one else you knew had answers.”

“Even so.” You blink a tear away. “Even so, Yunho.”

“No.” He grips your hands more tightly. “Do you know how I felt after I saw you the first time after? When you showed up with Dr. Strange in the middle of fighting the drakon?” You open your mouth to respond, but he cuts you off. “I was terrified, obviously, but watching you…” Yunho looks down at your joined hands and you think he’s going to start crying again, but when he looks back up, there’s a smile on his face despite the faint tears in his eyes. “It was good to see you, Y/N. Just so…good.”

You look down at your hands. Back up at Yunho’s face. 

Eyes so soft with tears, so warm they could melt.

“I was happy to see you,” he says quietly, and for all his words are unbelievable you have to believe them because of the way he says them. “So happy. I mean—I’d made the decision. And I’d come to terms with that I probably would never see you again, or at least never be close with you again. But seeing you then, healthy and happy and just—you—”

A choked noise escapes your throat. Something like a laugh. Something like a sob.

“I thought I’d gotten over it, you know.” Yunho smiles and it’s beautiful and broken and brittle, echoes of joy bittersweet on his lips. “Thought that I’d be able to move on. And I did, in a way, but before I thought that I would forget it all. I thought that I could. But that moment just showed me that I’d really never be able to, and that I would be okay with it. Because seeing you like that—it was good, Y/N.” The smile grows. “Even now, seeing you in front of me like this…”

Oh. Oh, damn.

You’d thought that you were all cried out, but your eyes betray you once more. A headache is starting to build up in the back of your head but you force yourself to focus, to decipher Yunho’s words for what they are. “So—” You swallow. Try to speak. “Do—do you—”

“I still love you,” he says quietly. “Every time I see you, it feels like I’m a little more whole.”

Your face burns. “I—”

“You don’t have to say anything right now.” Yunho smiles, and even on his teary face he looks so handsome, so steady, and if it’s true that you were in love with him before it’s not difficult to understand why. “I know it’s a lot, and that you’ve only just begun to figure some things out. I’m not looking for an answer when I tell you this.” He takes a deep breath. “I just wanted you to know.”

For a moment, the two of you sit in silence. You look at your interlaced fingers, think about how natural it feels to have his hands in yours, to have come to him in this hour of answers and need. Briefly you think of Mingi, and it doesn’t surprise you to think that they could’ve been good friends too.

“I’m not…closed off. To anything.” You swallow hard, looking back up at Yunho. “Yet, at least. I can’t say I—that I love you, not now, but I do believe I loved you once, and I could be there again. Someday.”

Yunho’s eyes fill with tears again, but he doesn’t say anything.

“I just.” Tears of your own start to squeeze down your cheeks, past your lips and chin. “I don’t know if I will ever remember everything,” you finally warn, voice wobbly. “I think it’s more likely that I won’t. But if you’re willing, even then…”

“It’s okay.” Yunho’s smile is warm, and it’s what finally sends the rest of the tears spilling out of your eyes. “This is more than I ever could have hoped for in my life.”

“I want to remember,” you choke. “I want to remember, I want to so badly—”

“I do too,” he says, pulling you into his chest. His warm heartbeat thumps quietly against yours and you take comfort in its steady pace, one, two, one, two. “But even if you don’t, I want you to know that’s okay. And it always will be.”

“…How do you know?”

Yunho’s arms, warm around your body. His hold so gentle yet so firm, so safe and steady as he murmurs reassurances in your ear.

“Because,” he says, pulling away. You look up at him with your sticky, aching eyes, feel all of your trust in him only grow as he smiles.

“Because we can always make more memories of our own.”

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

[alycosworld]

Torturous

John Constantine x Batfam!Reader

A/N: somebody tell me why the only cartoon john constantine gifs i could find were this one AND THE KING SHARK ONE 😭😭 bloody hilarious man. anyways, this is for the anon who asked for john x batfam reader recs and i found tumblr LACKING. here u go ladies and germs. Gender-neutral reader, no physical attributes included, they/them pronouns.

also, john is like ?? old asf ?? so let's just say he's a solid 32 and reader is 27. for context, dick is 28 and Jason is 24, tim case duke and steph are like 17-19, damian is 14. and Bruce is somewhere around 50. btw not proofread.

soz for the long a/n, thank u for reading and enjoy!!

KEEP READING (im on mobile and it's not working so ill add it in later)

How did it come to this?

It had been torturous enough working with your family and John Constantine, but now you were sure he was trying to tease you.

Batman didn't like calling him for cases involving magic, he'd much prefer Zatanna, but she was away for whatever reason and there was no time to waste waiting for her to get back from god-knows-where.

But you guarantee you were more annoyed by John's presence. Merely seeing him pissed you off, and his laidback, flirty nature made it all the worse.

And no, it wasn't because you hated him. In fact, it was the complete opposite.

Sneaking around behind your family's back to see your Romeo was a chore, and not something you had the liberty of doing often with your myriad of vigilante duties and commitments to adult life. Visiting John and spending time with him was rare and something you treasured. Whether it be in some nostalgia-ridden English pub, staying at his house that still didn't quite make sense to you, or going on regular dates that you planned like restaurants and carnivals, you and John had the time of your lives. And after all the adventures you had been on, he finally admitted that he loved you, just as you had admitted it before.

But loving John Constantine was no simple feat. It came with challenges like murderous monsters, various being from Hell, and most recently, your family.

You knew Bruce would be less than approving. He knew how much of a troublemaker John was, and his self-proclaimed bastard status did not help. Bruce knew he was trouble, and frankly, so did you, but he was too sweet and loving in the end for you to care. He was more than some troubled magician with alcoholism issues, severe gambling debt and the ability to fuck a shark. He was also probably the sweetest guy you had met and he cherished you, showering you in unconditional love, as uncharacteristic as it seemed.

Which is why this particular case was so difficult. While John took every opportunity to flirt with you, you had to refuse every advance and bury the urge to grab him by the collar his stupidly overused coat and kiss him silly. But no, one of your siblings or Bruce was around at every given moment. Alfred had already known you and John were a thing and promised to keep things quiet.

"Are you listening, love?" John asked, specifically looking at you. You felt singled out between Damian and Stephanie, as they, Bruce, and a few of your other siblings stared at you in confusion. You had been listening, briefly, but couldn't for the life of you remember what John had said. It's not like it mattered, this was just John wrapping things up. The case was virtually over.

"Don't call me that," you hardened your gaze instead of smiling and swooning as you normally would when he looked at you with the same intensity as he was now. The subtle changes in your mannerisms towards each other had miraculously not been noticed by the others.

"That's not an answer, love," oh he just loved pissing you off, didn't he? When all this was over you were sure you would make sure he paid for his actions.

"Yeah, I was listening," you folded your arms as he narrowed his eyes at you.

"Y'know what? I don't think you were. You've been giving me attitude this entire case, and frankly, I'm done with it," John shot back with a smirk.

"Excuse me?" I asked, wondering where the hell he was going with this.

"Excuse us, is more like it. You can finish things up here, Bats, I'm sure. I'd like to have a word with them, if you don't mind," John began to walk towards you.

"I don't see how this is important to--"

"Great! We'll only be a moment, just carry on with the debrief," John placed a hand on your lower back, escorting you out of the batcave and upstairs to your room. You saw Dick and Cass along the way, starting at you two oddly but John just smiled and ushered you into the room.

"John, what the hell do you think you're do--!" he cut you off by pinning you to the wall and pressing his lip to yours, pulling away with a boyish grin.

"Oh, I have missed you, love," he smiled, about to dive back in but you pushed him back.

"John, you can't just pull me out of a debrief to make out--"

"We're gonna be doing a lot more than make out, sweetheart," he said, grabbing your hips with both hands. You rolled your eyes slightly before placing one hand on his waist and the other on the side of his neck, quickly flipping him around so he's against the wall. You grin a little at his flustered state.

"We're gonna get caught, hon, please don't do this. I love you but it hasn't even been that long--"

"Seconds without you are too long, sweetheart," he replied, and you chuckled.

"That's very sweet, J, but if you keep this up I'm not gonna be able to control myself. Bruce will kill me, and then wait until the others find out--"

"Too late," Damian stood in the doorway of your bedroom and you nearly jumped out of you skin.

"What sorcery is this, Constantine? What have you done to them?" Damian produced a dagger out of seemingly nowhere and you sighed.

"Dames--"

"What? I'm sorry, (Y/N), but I can't trust your words--"

"Damian, he didn't do anything. No magic, no tricks, nothing. We've been seeing each other for a while," Damian continues to stare at you, not believing you. You sighed, walking up to him and ruffling his hair, "I promise, Dames. John hasn't enchanted me or anything, I just-- I'm in love with him," you finished, staring back at John. Damian looked between you and him before sighing.

"You're really in love with him? Him, of all people? You know how badly Raven speaks of him," Damian folded his arms.

"Raven? She talks about me behind my back? Bloody hell, I'll be having words with her--"

"John,"

"Right! Yes, uhm, Damian, I swear I haven't cursed them to fall in love with me. Really, it's a miracle they love me at all--"

"Don't say that," you smiled.

"What? Its true! And if you're worried about me hurting them or something, you shouldn't be. I'd rather kiss Nergal than even try hurting them," John rolled his eyes.

"And you know I'd kick his ass if he tried anything, Dames," you smirked.

"Well, I just might enjoy that, love--"

"Fucking hell, John, he's fourteen!" you covered Damian's ears as John laughed loudly. Damian eventually swatted your hands away and glared at John again.

"I really do love him, Dames. And nothing you say is gonna change that. We've been dating for almost a year and I still love him, so clearly that counts for something," you assured him.

John bent down slightly to be eye-to-eye with Damian, "I would never do anything to harm them, squire. And I can't get rid of 'em, even if I wanted to," John chuckled.

"You know you love me," you grinned.

"Yeah, I do," John replied, sincerely, making you tense up.

"Fine, I approve," Damian said decisively.

"No one needed your approval, Dames, but thank you," you chuckled, pressing a kiss to John's cheek, "now, just please don't tell Bruce about this--"

"I already know," Bruce, now in casual clothes instead of his suit, rounded the corner and stood next to Damian as you blinked in disbelief.

"Are you kidding me? No, don't tell me--" you peeked out of your room with John to see pretty much the rest of the family was listening. You sighed dragging a hand down your face as John chuckled nervously.

"Bollocks,"

[askthehcc]

To the Hcc I was wondering who all is a part of the LGBT+ community?

Cleo: I’m pan and non-binary, pretty sure Bdubs is aromantic, but he wouldn’t know the word for it.

Impulse: I’m also aro and I’m pretty sure Mumbo is ace.

Cleo: False is Bi, but isn’t really into relationships, at least for now.

Impulse: Again, I’m not certain, but I think Tango might be grey-romantic.

Cleo: That’s a point, I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen him show interest in anyone…

Impulse: Me neither, which is why I think he might be Grey.

Cleo: but not totally Aro?

Impulse: … no comment?

Impulse: I’m pretty sure he’s also *somewhere* on the ace spectrum.

Cleo: Don’t just brush over that, Impulse!

Impulse: Let’s see who else… Oh, Zed wouldn’t care what pronouns you use, but he’s not really ever labelled himself, so I guess I’d just go with vaguely gender queer for him… Maybe even agender?

Cleo: What do you know about Tango, Impulse?

Impulse: Anyway, I really should be getting back on shift.

Cleo: Oh my god, does Tango have a crush?

Cleo: Impulse, come back and talk to me!

---

Scar: You know, I’ve never really thought about it? I suppose I’d consider myself Pan?

Tango: Hesitation?

Scar: [shrugs]

Scar: I’ve never really been that interested in anyone.

Tango: Apart from that girl in college. Remember in second year?

Scar: [sighs] Yeah… Bonita.

Tango: She didn’t speak English, dude.

Scar: But you did a great job at translating from Blaze!

Tango: And then you asked me to go on a date with you and she slapped you!

Scar: It was your fault for mistranslating! I meant for you to come with us on a date and translating!

Tango: Scar, my man, you asked her for a three–

Scar: I meant as a date with you translating!

—-

Zedaph: You knew exactly what he meant, didn’t you?

Tango: Yeah, of course. I’m fluent in Blaze and Scar. I just didn’t want to spend my entire second year translating for them.

Zedaph: Have I mentioned how much I love you?

Tango: Uh, yeah dude. We had that whole confusion in second year, remem–

Zedaph: I meant platonically!

---

Joel: I'm gluten free.

Lizzie: That's not what the G stands for, Joel.

Scott: Yeah, you're not queer because you can't process gluten, Joel.

Joel: Yeah and I'm not proud about it either.

Joel: Bloody hate stupid wheat!

---

Lizzie: [Looks around]

Lizzie: Keep this between us, yeah?

Lizzie: Grian came out to me about ten years ago, after we tried kissing with each other when we were like, fourteen.

Lizzie: He kissed me and pulled such a face afterwards and I was so offended, so obviously I kicked right off about it, of course, and then he said that it's had nothing to do with me.

Lizzie: And that's when he told me that he was actually gay.

Lizzie: He seemed really embarrassed about it and I don't think he's ever openly spoke about it since. I don't even know if he's mentioned it to Jimmy.

Lizzie: But I did have this little bracelet making phase and I didn't want him to make him a rainbow bracelet cause it felt too obvious, so I looked up the flag for gay men and made him a blue and white one instead.

Lizzie: He wore it for a good couple years after, too.

Lizzie: To be honest, Scott might know, cause he's pretty brushed up on these things, so he probably recognised it.

Lizzie: But yeah, he won't talk about it and I'm not sure how proud he is exactly, but... you know what?

Lizzie: I'm proud of him.

[solitudeandseclusion]

i love the 'lost!' mv so much. yes, it released on friday and today is tuesday, it has already been analyzed by everyone. but i'm putting down these thoughts for myself.

"inside namjoon's brain" the presenters speaking in korean without any subtitles. the cups on their desks have "남준 안에" on it which means "inside namjoon". they introduce him & he's supposed to perform but he's lost in a maze in his own head with multiple versions of him. also kinda a callback to the 'come back to me' mv where there are multiple namjoons living different lives.

then suddenly he's on the outside, the cameraperson looking at himself. looking at yourself from the outside lens. then he's one of the presenters. then his multiple versions are assigned to different actors, regardless of gender.

in the elevator, he presses multiple buttons. so many destinations. his mind still a weird maze and all of his selves running around in it. trying to make sense of the maze, the multiple selves stick around to the original self and just explore. also this part, i think refers to his multiple personas: "Dump it on the ground Pick it up, throw it in the trunk" and when he's ready to deal with the personas in 'Groin' and what the personas have to deal with separately, he brings them out "Get yo' ass out the trunk".

anyway, back to the mv, he's still exploring his mind's maze while in some real world RM is performing. because he's got temptation. music is what tempts him. then that scene where he climbs a ladder made of all his other selves. he climbs over all of them, and when he comes out the other side? he's still performing for an audience because that's what his life is. it always leads back to the spotlight. and the performance ends, the presenters are by his side. she takes a beat before saying his name as if to recollect it, not sure if this is to separate him more famous white artists whose names easily roll off most people's tongues.

all his other selves look up at him from a dark room, hidden away from sight while RM takes up the stage. because he's still got temptation. all this while only one of his selves has a big smile on his face, the rest have a straight face on, so does namjoon who is just bloody confused about everything and didn't even register his own performance.

it's just so well made i love it so much.