#i realize the gender of reader is unusual or at least the presentation is not the norm

[fawnforgold]

so about that t4t albedo x reader

so i’m gonna write the t4t albedo fic but i wanna make it clear that albedo will be trans masc and reader will be an afab person who has gone through bottom surgery. i’ll going to be using a mixture of gendered terms for reader that vary from masc, fem, to neutral. granted i don’t need to elaborate but i felt like sharing this since some people were interested.

[cannellee]

omg, i giggle like a schoolgirl whenever i read your abo hcs🤭

can i have bestfriend! mikey who comes over to the reader’s house (not realizing she’s in heat) and ends up mating & claiming her?

ty for all the juicy fics btw 😋

TOKYO REVENGERS OMEGAVERSE ☆

୨୧ alpha! mikey x omega! reader

— mikey claiming omega! reader

my masterlist : ☆

cw: sex, cockwarming, breeding kink

(it's only my third time writing full smut like this, so I hope it's not too bad!!)

you knew mikey since primary school, when innocent friendships bloomed easily. none of you knew your second gender yet, and you actually never gave it too much thought.

you grew up pretty close, the proximity of your houses making it easier for you to bond. mikey was carefree and seemed always sure of himself, these traits of his kept your future omega-self nearby.

being with him felt great. he was a kind friend despite his overly direct behaviour, he always got your back whenever school kids were being mean to you.

you guys were with each other through every stages of life. when you turned out an omega, mikey was quick to drive away students who wanted to have a taste of their freshly presented schoolmate. he was protective, never going overboard either.

it was safe to say you thought you guys would remain in a special relationship all your life. and mikey thought so too. for years, he had never seen you as something more than a friend, qualifying the protective position he took as nothing more than an amicable worry.

but lately, something had begun to shift within mikey. a subtle change that he quite couldn't put his finger on. at first, he brushed it off as nothing more than a passing phase, but days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months and he soon began to realise that his feelings for you were changing in ways he had yet to understand.

it started with small things — the way his heart skipped a bit whenever you laughed, the way his gaze lingered longer than before when you smiled - has your smile always been this bright ? he slowly came to crave your scent, unconsciously leaning towards you and watching the way your soft lips would move each time you talked.

mikey felt a pull at his chest just by thinking of his dear friend with someone else. will they be able to treat you right, and keep you safe ? mikey was just worried. he wanted to hear your voice, to hear your secrets and make sure you were not seeing anyone.

it was a week off, so mikey called you. it wasn't unusual for you to talk over the phone, even if you had a house at a five minutes walk away from the other.

but you didn't pick up your phone. and mikey noted how uncommon it was, you always did. he tried a second time and when he was denied again, he just gave up, giving you some time. upon seeing his missed calls, you'll call him back.

but you didn't, and not even a text was sent his way. he tried multiple times after a while and grew worried. you never were this silent online, not answering him for a whole day was strange, to say the least.

so he went out, took a few brownies emma cooked with him to give him a reason to come over, and crossed the street to your home.

he didn't bother making his arrival announced ; none of you ever bothered for such formalities.

clenching the doorknob, he frowned at how it actually opened, half expecting it to be locked. still, he came in, quietly making his way into your house. it was silent and dark, with the windows all wide opened, a cold breeze hitting his skin.

confused at first, mikey softly called out your name, putting the snacks on the kitchen table and getting rid of his jacket, leaving him in his plain white tshirt. "y/n ? are you in there ?"

the absence of response pushed him to keep going, dangerously approaching your room. he stopped mid way, when a few noises came out from the end of the hallway. "y/n ? is that you, everything fine?"

as he stood right behind the door, mikey could now decipher the said noises. soft desperate cries, erratic breaths and an intoxicating smell embalming the air, seemingly seeping from every hole under your door.

mikey took a deep breath, connecting the dots and cursing himself for coming this far to you —you were in heat. the omega he grew obsessed with, was right in front of him, the wall, the only thing keeping him away from his growing urge to just burst in.

"m-mikey ? is it you ?" despite your weakened state, your friend was close enough for you to recognize a foreign smell inside your house. mikey probably didn't even notice his own pheromones started to spread, instinctively reacting to your erotic ones. fuck you smelled so good.

"I'm sorry I'll leave, I didn't know you were in heat". as overwhelming as his need to claim you was, mikey didn't want to risk your trust.

"n-no please mikey stay!" you were in a haze, too high off of your wish to to be taken to actually have any clear thoughts. and mikey knew that, but he didn't want to take advantage of you.

"I just came here to make sure you were doing fine, and give you some snacks emma made. I'll leave and lock your door, this isn't safe in your state. beside, I don't want you to regret anything, you're not thinking straight" it took a great reasoning for him to actually ignore his instincts screaming at him to just barge into your room and take you right here. breeding you until you're full of cum and exhausted to the point you can't walk straight. dirty thoughts are flooding his mind, the whole situation sending blood to his cock.

"no please, I know I won't ! I'm still clear enough to know what I want, they barely just started today. please mikey". pleas fell out from your mouth. and too overwhelmed by the consuming need for release, you can't even get up to pull him to your nest.

"or is it that you don't want to do it with me ?" mikey sighs heavily, body all tensed up. this sent a growl down his throat, you only whined in response, scared at the prospect of the alpha you desire not wanting to mate with you.

but, of course he does, that's the only thing he can think about right now. and whenever his own ruts hit, he's ashamed to admit your body is the image he pictures each time.

"please mikey, I just really need you right now. I wouldn't do it with anyone else if not you" you begged once more, voice growing even more desperate. a few salty tears rolled down your face at the frustration mikey was submitting you to.

and just like that, mikey was right in front of you. he took in your whole form, shaking and sensitive, desperately awaiting a touch.

you wore only your underwear, the heated room feeling too much. despite your opened windows, some hair stucked to your damp forehead, and the blankets were since then long gone, thrown out of your nest.

you looked heavenly in mikey's eyes. actually, you always looked perfect, not a day passed without mikey admiring your dreamy features secretly. but today particularly, something seemed different.

it was the way your eyes slowly looked up at him, lust and envy clouding your vision, and the way your body seemed to immediately attract him to you, legs spreading as if they had a mind of their own, your heartbeats quickening and scent getting progressively sweeter to tempt him even more.

there was no turning back. after witnessing such a delightful scene, mikey would never be able to turn around, close the door and act like nothing happened. you had him right where you wanted and he was more than willing to comply to your wishes now.

"please mikey, it hurts"

by now, mikey's instincts had fully taken over and an ardent desire burned inside of him, praying him to just take care of the delicate omega laying in front him.

"yes I know baby, and you did really great on your own, waiting for me to find you, all spread out and pretty". you reached out for him instantly when mikey came to join you, you emitted a satisfied purr, happy to finally have the alpha you longed for give in to your demands.

he didn't wait long before starting a short foreplay, kissing, licking and sucking every inch of your skin, leaving tiny bite marks all along your neck, insisting on your scent gland.

he brought his fingers to your entrance while continuing his assault on your neck and collarbone. he massaged it slowly, observing your reactions to know exactly where it felt good. he kept going for a few minutes before stopping, throwing away your bra and finally pushing aside your panty, giving more access to his hands.

and you felt one finger entering you, his mouth now sealed to your nipple. his tongue rolled against it, lapping expertly while drinking in your moans of pleasure. he kept bullying your heterogeneous zones, in hope to hear more of you, to see you completely break under him, just like he always wanted to see you.

"that's it baby, moan for me, let me hear your pretty voice"

and moan you did, especially with how three of his fingers were now sliding in and out of you with a sweet speed you couldn't get enough of. you had tears building up in your eyes and you watched as a string of saliva connected mikey's mouth to yours. his finger felt so great, and his mouth, now attached to your lips, turned you absolutely breathless. but still, it wasn't enough, you needed more.

"please mikey. I want you in me, please I want more" the friction of mikey's fingers felt good, but you were too far into your heat to actually need foreplay. the slick you produced was enough for mikey to just fuck you without any prep.

"I know I know baby, I'll make you feel so good don't worry" he stopped his movements, your fluids coating his fingers. he licked them, looking at your droopy eyelids.

you waited patiently for mikey to undress himself, throwing both his tshirt and your panty aside, before finally getting rid of his bottom. you watched eagerly his length revealing itself to you, a sight which only made you drool. and you could only wait for mikey to give you what you wished for, completely at his mercy.

you were now fully naked, squirming in front of mikey. he contemplated you again, your honeyed scent driving him crazy by the minute, and the way your pulsating core seemed to call out to him was very much a sight mikey could get used to if you let him.

"I've wanted this for so long, God you're so beautiful"

he let his hands travel all around your body, kissing you passionately while whispering praises of how pretty you looked.

"that's it baby, lay nice and still for me. you're doing so good". and you did, waiting expectantly, hungry for his touch and affection. you couldn't care less about your dignity, it just felt great to want him, obey him, beg him. whatever he had to offer your body, you would accept it with a smile on your face.

and with all his restraint, mikey entered you in one painfully slow thrust. you moaned louder, eyes shutting by themselves with the intrusion, and "yes, yes, yes" flowed out from your lips.

he didn't let you any time to adjust, he knew you didn't need any, and immediately started rocking his hips. he let out low growls of pleasure, mouth right next to your ear. you drank them in, feeling pleasure building up inside not only from the relentless pace he was going at, but the satisfaction that your omega had succeeded in making her alpha feel good too.

you were desperate for validation and release, clawing at his back with weak hands, legs spread wide open for your alpha. your tits bounced with each slap and mikey's hips connected with yours in a excruciatingly delightful manner.

with the way your brain was clouded with pleasure, you could only chant his name. if only you knew what your desirous pleas did to him.. knowing you'd let him to anything to you was a major turn on that kept mikey yearning for more.

"you're doing perfect, that feels incredible baby". reassuring you, he maintained his pace, capturing your mouth for a heated kiss before sucking on your skin, whishing for it to leave deep red marks.

fuck, mikey wanted to mark you, claim you and breed you in every way possible. he didn't think he would be satisfied with just one round now that he finally had you under him. he was going to take such good care of his precious omega, fucking you dumb until you can't think of anything else but him.

he felt you clenching around him, your tight hole pushing him closer to the edge. "just like that, good girl, you're gonna make me cum". and you so wished for him to cum inside you, filling you up to the brim with the seeds you desperately wanted.

slapping thighs, wet noises and erratic breaths were the only thing you could here. and the pleasure mikey granted you, the way his strong scent enveloped you and how his fingers found your clit again to help you chase your release made you see stars. not a single thought could make their way into your brain, all you could think about was the heavenly sensations you were experiencing right now and mikey's strong chest on top of you.

you begged for him as soon as you felt it come closer, scratching his back, mouth wide opened and tongue lolled out. your eyes rolled to the back of your skull and you thanked mikey for giving you this much pleasure. "that's right baby, take all of it". his thrusts were getting sloppier with each passing second, announcing your coming climax.

you both came at the same time, with a high pitched moan for you and a deep growl for mikey, which always managed to send shivers down your spine. you felt his cum flow inside of you, painting your insides with a white fluid.

and you took it all, just like he told you, hoping for more praises but too high off of his cock to do anything else. he kissed your temple, looking into your exhausted eyes while slowly going in and out of you. you both tried to catch your breath after bliss took over you.

"you did so good for me angel, such a perfect omega". you chirped happily in response, content about his satisfaction with you. you couldn't talk, heat turned you into a submissive mess.

you let him cuddle you from behind, cockwarming him to make sure you didn't spill any drops of cum, and you stayed put for him to do anything. he kissed your shoulder softly, whispering about how good and obedient you were.

he liked the calming feeling of his cock plugging your wet pussy, taking you like this felt so good and heightened his already possessive thoughts about you.

you were so perfect, you took your alpha so well and now you're staying still for him to pour his cum into you. he wanted to keep you all to himself, fuck you throughout all your heats and never let you go after someone else. the claim he put on you wasn't just out of sexual interest, but genuine love he had for you. and now that he had fucked you, it felt like everything was falling into place, his sense of purpose reaffirmed.

he had you, his lovely and delicate omega, waiting for her alpha to wreck her and turn her into a sobbing mess.

he looked forward to the rest of the day.

"now were not finished baby, we'll need a lot more if we want to go through your heat smoothly, right?"

[mrsbrekkers]

Hi! I read your Jesper fic and it’s like my favorite that I’ve ever read honestly it was amazing! I was wondering if I could request a Jesper x reader where the reader is small and really sweet and he has a crush on her? And she like steals his clothes and he just gets rlly soft? Once again I love your writing have a great day/night and no rush!

hi there! we’ve talked over pm, but thank you again, those kind words mean the WORLD to me! i haven’t put my writing out there in a while, so this means a lot, thank you again :)

so i had a weird idea when i saw this when i woke up this morning. mind you, it’s been sitting in my requests for a few days, but i saw it and didn’t have a lot of ideas, but then inspiration struck me and brb i gotta cry over this. AHHHHHH

pairings! jesper x reader / kaz x inej ( being soulmates ) + nina x matthias ( also being soulmates ) + wylan van eck enjoying his pie

reader is again, gender neutral, but leans more female presented, BUT the pronouns they/their are used throughout

warnings! jesper and reader being the fluffest couple to walk the grishaverse, kaz endlessly shipping, kaz also pinning for inej, nina + kaz shipping reader and jesper, the crows in general shipping reader x jesper

word count; 3036 words

one-shot under cut!

this mood board was made by a friend and UGH IT TAKES IN THE FIC S O WELL!!! @r3tr0sp3ct !! thank you so much, SHFJD

5 WAYS TO TELL YOUR SIGNIFICANT OTHER YOU LOVE THEM

Courtesy Of Jesper Fahey, to my Dearest Y/N

5: Tease Them About How Short They Are

It was no secret that Y/N was the shortest of the crows. A mere five foot three, compared to the other Crows? They were short. Shorter than Inej by an inch or two, and by a foot compared to Matthias. Yet, it made them dangerous: able to move from place to place almost as swiftly as Inej. They were able to look unintimidating, when in reality, they could kill you, your family, and your relatives. They were able to lie their way through almost anything: another factor of people underestimating them. They were dangerous, which is why they were a part of the Crows after all. An asset, a leader even. Kaz saw them as valuable.

That didn’t stop the endless amount of teasing from the Crows though. And who had started it? Jesper Fahey.

First joining the Crows had been an impulsive decision, but one that Y/N didn’t regret. A family came with joining, and they’d lost theirs a pretty good time ago. What also came with joining was the teasing. Another day at the Crow Club, and Y/N, still relatively new to the Barrel life, was watching as Jesper gambled. They’d never understand the payoff of such quizzical acts of dumbness, but they stood there behind Jesper, confused.

Finishing the hand, Jesper glanced back at Y/N, chuckling slightly. Y/N’s eyes shifted, their glare at Jesper meeting him right in the eyes. It almost caused him to back down from what he was about to say, but he simply smirked the usual Jesper smirk. Flirtatious and bubbly. His hand swiftly moved, pulling Y/N to stand directly in front of him, the hand on their waist causing them to become flustered.

“You’re shorter than Inej,” Jesper inquired.

“I am not-” but Y/N didn’t finish their sentence. They’d already known such, but now Jesper was pointing it out. “So what?”

“It means I get to deem a new nickname for you! Inej would never let me call her anything related to her height, she threatened me with her knives. Or Kaz would glare at me, which scares me to say the least,” Jesper smiled now. He was going to have to find his way into Y/N’s good graces to fully engage in said nickname. They seemed conflicted for a moment, a pout making its way to their face.

“Does that mean I get to deem a nickname for you based on how tall you are?” Y/N asked, raising an eyebrow. They already had one in mind, considering Jesper was only a mere inch shorter than Matthias, the nickname still fit him.

“Well, that depends, Shortcake, what is your nickname for me?”

“Big Bear,” Y/N responded, smiling.

“Hmm, I like it. Shortcake and Big Bear. A powerful duo,” Jesper said, chuckling.

And thus, the teasing of how short Y/N was began.

4; Tell Them How Sweet They Are

The teasing didn’t stop there. Of course it didn’t. Because while the nickname ‘Shortcake’ was coined by Jesper, everyone had chosen new nicknames for how short Y/N was. Matthias called them Bubbles. Nina called them Babycakes. Wylan called them Munchkin. Inej called them Mini-me. And even Kaz had found a nickname for them; Firecracker.

But for Jesper, he wanted to find other ways to tease, or to tell Y/N what they meant to him, and low and behold, chance struck him. Eating with the Crows at one of the bakeries in Ketterdam, Y/N sitting next to Nina, with Jesper on their other side. Matthias sat next to Nina, squished between her and Inej. Wylan sat on the edge of the booth, opposite of Jesper, with Kaz sitting in a chair at the head of the booth.

Jesper glanced over at Y/N every once in a while, who was enjoying their creampuffs, he watched a bit of the filling be left on their lips. letting out a small chuckle, he watched Y/N turn toward him. “Hm?” They murmured, tilting their head. Sometimes Jesper wondered what someone like Y/N was doing in the Barrel. How Kaz had even found someone so sweet and kind roaming the streets.

“You got something a little-” Jesper raised his hand, his thumb brushing the pastry filling from Y/N’s lips. “There,” and with that, he chuckled before eating the filling. Y/N’s eyes had followed his hand the entire way, becoming flustered just as they had in the Crow Club just a few nights ago.

“That was my leftovers for later, Big Bear,” Y/N glared, their tone though was playful. The entire table now stared at them. Nina had a knowing look on their face, Matthias just seemed confused. Inej had let out a small laugh, Kaz’s eyes shifting to Inej upon hearing the sound. And Wylan? He just took another bite of his pie, his attention unwavered.

“Shortcake, you’re really telling me you would’ve saved any amount of those creampuffs as leftovers? I doubt it, they’re your favorite,” Jesper observed, making Y/N huff and taking another bite of a creampuff.

“They’re sweet and warm, of course I wouldn’t leave a single one for leftovers,” Y/N deemed, crossing their arms as they went to grab their last creampuff, but Jesper beat them to it, biting into it.

“Hmm, they’re not as sweet as you,” Jesper said, kissing Y/N’s nose, making them go cross-eyed with a smile.

“Hey! That was MY last creampuff!” Y/N said, coming to their senses after they realized Jesper had taken their last one. Before they could go to grab it though, Jesper raised it above his head. Oh, it was on. Before too long, Y/N was chasing Jesper out of the bakery, leaving the other Crows a laughing mess as they watched Jesper run, yelling for Y/N to catch him.

“Those two are soulmates,” Nina said, a wide smile on her lips as she watched Y/N practically topple Jesper onto the concrete, grabbing what was left of their creampuff and biting into it. Her eyes then shifted to Matthias.

“Soulmates.” Matthias agreed, smiling.

3; Save Them From The Bad Guy

Y/N was smart, Jesper knew that. They could probably give Jesper and Kaz a run for their money if they would like to. They were small, agile, talented. They were everything in Jesper’s eyes and more. But that didn’t make them any less susceptible to being overwhelmed during a job. They weren’t Nina Zenik. They weren’t Grisha, meaning if the right spots were hit they could indeed be overtaken.

But with Jesper by their side, that potential went down exponentially. Because whether Y/N believed it or not, and they did, Jesper would protect them with his life. They would do so for one another without hesitation. Which as Kaz put it: ‘is a dangerous prospect.’ The two didn’t care though. Well, in certain ways they did, but where was the fun in giving Kaz the satisfaction of thinking he was somewhat right? Answer: There was none.

Having just grabbed the package they needed during the job, Y/N and Jesper were about to be home free when they were spotted by the cashier, who undoubtedly worked for Pekka Rollins. Going eye wide, the two stared at the cashier for some time, and before they could come up with a Kaz level idea, the two bolted from the shop, Y/N’s hand in Jesper’s.

“We’re not dying today, Shortcake!” Jesper laughed over the commotion, the adrenaline of the job running through him as they ran.

“Hopefully not, Big Bear!” Y/N yelled, letting go of Jesper’s hand and breaking off from him. They were bigger targets together. Slipping through the crowds, Y/N ran as quickly as their legs could carry them. But speed could only make up so much when men who seemed twice your size were chasing after you.

Y/N knew Ketterdam well, but not Inej well. Not Kaz well. So when they came face to face with a wall that was too big for them to climb before the men managed to catch up, they scowled. Where the hell is Inej when you need her?

Turning to face the men who showed up, Y/N showed their hands. “Went after the wrong one,” They remarked, smirking. The men didn’t seem to be having it though, and as they stalked towards Y/N, a voice was heard behind them.

“And to think you’re usually the one saving my ass!” And then the three men fell, one bullet lodged in each of the men’s heads. Y/N looked up, smiling as they saw Jesper.

“Got the package?” Y/N asked, Jesper showcasing the bag of whatever it was Kaz had deemed they needed.

“I do, but I also have the most important package.” Jesper stepped over the bodies and took Y/N’s hand again, a wide smile on his lips.

“And what package would that be?” Y/N knew what he was going to say, but they wanted to hear it outloud

“Why you, of course!” Jesper winked, kissing Y/N’s forehead before they were off to bring the package to Kaz.

2; Let Them Borrow Your Clothes

Another night at the Crow Club, but something was unusual. Jesper was used to having a stalking Y/N behind him wondering how poker worked. This time though, they didn’t seem to be found anywhere in the Crow Club. It almost made Jesper not want to play. What was the point of playing if you didn’t have your lucky charm? There was no reason in his mind, especially as he began to have a bad streak of luck. So, standing from the table, he went to the booth Inej sat at, Kaz across from her.

“Have you guys seen Y/N?” Jesper asked, earning him a small smirk from Kaz, who simply glanced at Inej. He’d seen the newest Crow go to Jesper’s room while he’d gone down the steps. Kaz had been tempted to ask what they were doing, but he already had a feeling about what they were doing.

“They’re at the Slat,” Kaz said, deciding to rat out Y/N.

Jesper raised a brow. Weird. “Have fun you two! Inej, make sure he doesn’t come up with some more heist plans while I’m gone,” he joked, earning an eye roll from Inej. Turning from the table, he made his way out of the Crow Club, walking to the Slat and up to Y/N’s room, which was right next to his. Granted, they were really just tiny spaces meant to serve for the necessities. So, when Jesper arrived at their floor, he stopped in his tracks.

“Shortcake?”

Y/N turned, cursing as they realized they’d been caught. Instead of being adorned in their usual black attire, Y/N wore one of Jesper’s jackets.

“Listen, it was right there, it looked warm, I just really really . . . why are you walking towards me like that?” Y/N asked, watching as Jesper stepped towards them. If only they could see into Jesper’s mind, but the look in his eyes said it all. He was completely, utterly in love with the person before him. Letting out a gentle laugh, he kissed the corner of Y/N’s lips, earning him wide eyes.

“It looks better on you, although a little big, it’s perfect, Shortcake” Jesper said, in turn, he received a giddy laugh.

“Why thank you Big Bear. It is really warm, I may have to steal it,” Y/N remarked, crossing their arms and posing in the jacket for Jesper.

“You can’t steal it if I give it to you.”

“Hey! No fair. We’re criminals. I shall steal Jesper Fahey’s coat!”

“Mhm, now come on. I think you should show off your new attire at the Crow Club,” Jesper said, taking Y/N’s hand, but instead, they moved to stand beside Jesper, moving his arm so it wrapped around their waist.

When they arrived at the Crow Club once more, Inej glanced at Kaz, who now looked over his plans he’d been drawing out, his eyes on Y/N and Jesper.

“You’re so in on them being soulmates aren’t you?” Inej asked.

“Hmm, I don’t know what you’re talking about, my dearest Inej,” Kaz spoke quietly, making sure only she could hear.

1; Telling Them You Love Them

Whatever Jesper was planning, Y/N had a feeling it involved something big. They’d never seen him as frantic as he currently was. Then again, Jesper was a pretty frantic person at times, but still this probably took the cake for the most frantic. He had flowers, candies, creampuffs, not that Y/N knew all of that.

He was receiving different ways to tell people that you love them, and now he had no idea which one to go with. Nina told him pastries. Inej told him to simply be outright with it. Matthias told him some weird Fjerdan way they would do it. Wylan had shrugged, he’d never really been in love before. He hadn’t even DARED to ask Kaz for obvious reasons.

That left him with his own way of doing it. He wasn’t sure if Y/N would like it. He knew she’d like the cream puffs. But the candies? The flowers? Were they that kind of romantic?

It also didn’t help that when he’d asked everyone, he’d at first told them that he had feelings for Y/N, and they’d all replied that they knew. That didn’t help his nerves, because did that mean Y/N knew? Or were they just as oblivious as he was?

The night seemed simple enough - until it wasn’t.

The flowers didn’t smell right to Jesper, so he threw them out. The candies, as Nina revealed, were Y/N’s least favorite. The only thing he still had by the beginning of the night were the creampuffs. But he wanted to do this right. He had to do this right.

Entering the bakery, Jesper spotted Y/N at one of the booths, eating creampuffs. Well, there goes the last thing he had to give them. Making his way to the table, Jesper watched as Y/N raised their head to look at him.

“Don’t tell me Kaz sent you to come and ruin my night with some heist plans, Big Bear,” Y/N said, biting into their cream puff, humming in delight.

“Nope, just me. . . . just me,” Jesper murmured the last bit.

“Just you huh?” Y/N asked, finishing their plate and throwing it out. They stood, thanking the baker before leaving the bakery. Jesper followed behind. His mind raced with ideas on how to do this right. Maybe this was the right way? Stopping in one of the alleys, Jesper sucked in a deep breath.

“I love you!” He called to Y/N, who stalled for a moment, eyes going wide just as they did when Jesper had kissed the corner of their mouth.

“You make me rethink everything I know. You waltzed into the Crows lives, but most importantly, you waltzed into mine. I love you,” Jesper watched Y/N, seeing them laugh a bit.

“Go on, Big Bear,” Y/N spoke, walking slowly towards the gushing Jesper.

“I love the way you let me joke about your height. I love the way you get creampuff filling all over your face, you actually still have some on your lips. I love the way you joke with me during jobs, even when they go terribly wrong,” Jesper chuckled now, his smile wide.

“I love when you wear my clothes. They’re big on you. My jackets almost reach the floor. My sweaters reach your thighs. I love when you stand behind me while I’m playing cards, wondering how the game works. Or why it’s helpful. I love when you sneak into my bed late at night and lie across from me even with the small space we have, acting as if I don’t know you’re there. I love the way you chase me for your last cream puff and tackle me into the ground. But most of all, I love you . . . you, gosh do i love you,” Jesper felt out of breath. He wanted to yell from the top of rooftops that he loved Y/N. The things he’d do for them were endless.

“You know what I love about you, Jesper Fahey?” Y/N asked, tilting their head as they stopped in front of the breathless boy.

“What?”

“Everything,” and then they were on their tippy toes, their lips barely meeting Jesper’s.

The taste of cream puff filling hit Jesper first, a familiarity he knew with Y/N. Home. His fingers delicately moved to hold the back of their neck, his eyes shutting as he fully leaned down to kiss them. The pounding in his chest could likely be heard throughout the entirety of Ketterdam. He could feel the concrete underneath him, and it felt like the only stabilizer he had to keep him grounded. For if not for the concrete beneath him, he would’ve thought he was dreaming. Floating, even. But the feeling of their skin under his fingers, their lips. Everything invaded his senses and he didn’t want it to stop. He didn’t want them to stop.

Y/N had dreamed of this moment. The way Jesper’s slightly chapped lips would feel against their own, how soft his skin would feel, how his hair would feel. How he’d feel. Time felt lost, the world around them dimming as they let themself be consumed by this feeling. Nothing had felt so right. No one else existed except them.

Becoming breathless, Jesper pulled from Y/N, his eyes fluttering open as he placed his forehead against theirs. Then he felt the soft feeling of rain beginning to fall. “Isn’t that cheesy,” he chuckled, making Y/N laugh and take his hand.

“Ready to run through the rain, Big Bear?” They whispered.

Jesper didn’t answer, and instead he turned, pulling Y/N with him towards the Slat, their laughs being heard for miles.

[blackrose343]

Hopeless - Chapter 5: The Consequences

Warnings: Angst, Language and PTSD

I am not a medical professional so I cannot say if this chapter accurately portrays PTSD. I did research it and compared it to what I have written. From what I saw, it looks like the reader is going through something along the lines of PTSD. So to be on the safe side, I decided to put PTSD in the warning.

Devil May Cry - V x Gender Neutral Reader

Fanfic summary:  You have been kidnapped by a Soul Snatcher clan that used to reside within Red Grave. They’re torturing you for more information about the one who helped you kill their leader. While being held captive you begin to think about how to escape, how this all started, and if someone will find you. Then again, what would happen if you escape?

Hopeless Masterlist

Sorry this took so long.

Part of the poem V reads is  Auguries of Innocence by William Blake.

Present Day

Vergil returned with you to Devil May Cry not too long after the others. Everyone gathered around, excited to finally meet you. (Although, they wished it was under better circumstances.) Nero covered Nico’s mouth, quieting her before she exclaimed her excitement about meeting you. Vergil reminded everyone you’ve been through a lot and needed rest. A lot of it. He also stressed the importance of giving you space once you regain consciousness. Vergil didn’t want you to become overwhelmed by everyone bombarding you at once. You would need time to readjust to your life; to relearn what you have forgotten.

“Try not to wake (Y/N).” Vergil left the room as V approached you. A big sigh of relief left him. You were okay just like Vergil promised you’d be. Lovingly, V stroked your hair. He got onto his knees, then placed a tender kiss on your forehead. A tiny smile graced your lips. To not disturb slumber, V took his leave.

Vergil was sitting outside enjoying the night’s cool breeze. No, he was still trying to figure out how to tell V the decision he made. Ever since he made the decision he has been trying to find the best way to tell V. Vergil knew V wouldn’t take it well. Especially since he didn't know if all or some of your memories were sealed.

It wasn’t hard for V to find Vergil. He recognized Vergil’s agitated sigh anywhere. V’s expression showed Vergil he wanted to know what happened. Vergil chose to explain to V what the healer explained to him. V’s grip on his cane was so tight his knuckles whitened. He was furious Vergil made the decision of you possibly forgetting him. But, he understood why. V expressed to Vergil he wanted you to be okay no matter what. And that’s what Vergil achieved. Before V said anything he shouldn’t, he left.

Slowly, you opened your eyes, then you observed your surroundings. You had no idea where you were. After further inspection, you realized you were in someone’s bedroom. The room more than likely belonged to the man next to you. You studied the sleeping man. A book with a “V” on the cover was on his face. Pale, slender, covered in tattoos and some bruises. You wondered who he was. That thought soon vanished. Silently, you freaked out when you saw a panther by his feet. Even more so when you saw the bird next to him. Does that bird have three pupils?!

“Hey Shakespeare, wake up! (Y/N) is awake.” The bird ruffled his feathers, then flew around the room. The panther lazily yawned then looked up at you. It would have pounced onto you but the man commanded it not to. His sultry voice soothed you yet you don’t know why. You’ve never met him. Or at least you didn't think you did.

Heartbreak filled V’s eyes when you told him you didn’t know who he was. You could tell he was restraining himself from approaching you. V wanted to hold you; to do whatever he could to make you remember him. To make him feel better you mentioned his voice was familiar to you. V’s saddened eyes lightened with hope. He knew you would remember him in due time.

To get an idea of how much has been sealed away, V convinced you to tell him about your life. You briefly babbled about your childhood. Nothing too unusual about it. You glossed over your demon hunting training. You didn't have many friends because of it. You slightly elaborated your demon hunting career. Honestly, you enjoyed it and would never leave it. When you reached recent events, nothing came to mind. All you could remember was meeting with a gentleman for a job. You couldn’t remember the conversation or what the job was.

V meticulously chose his words while explaining what happened to you and how you met him. He also kept some details to himself. You took it as him not wanting to offend you. V did not want to be the reason you regain your horrid memories so soon. He knew you would remember eventually yet he will try to prolong it for as long as possible.

Few Years Later

You were surrounded by darkness. The sound of your breathing was interrupted by an agonizing scream. A familiar scream. You couldn’t remember where you heard it from. But you knew it. You instinctively followed it. The scenery changed as you made your way to the scream. The scenes varied from a bar to chaotic parts of  Red Grave. It felt as if you were a part of each scene. As if you were reliving someone’s life. 

The screams were muffled when you spotted an out of place door. The same door you’ve been seeing for too many nights. You banged on the door. Its barrier forced you away once again. You stared at the door, cursing at it. Each time you approach the door, the same thing happens. You didn’t know why you let yourself repeat this scenario so many times: banging the door non-stop till your hands bleed and the screaming abruptly stops. You wanted to say it was because you wanted to save whoever was behind the door. For some reason curiosity was more of a reason. You were unsure if you were curious to see who was behind the door or what was happening. There was no doubt you would find out soon. The barrier was significantly weaker than when you first saw it.

The muffled screams were non-stop. Whoever was screaming seemed to be in more pain than before. Desperately, you kicked the door while reassuring whoever was on the other side you were there to help. Nothing seemed to be working. It made no sense. It was a simple door. Nothing special about it besides the barrier. It didn’t matter. You had to get through it. 

The door's final attempt to keep you away woke you. Your eyes shot open. Your mind felt hazy, then it was racing. Your heart was beating frantically. Sweat rolled down your body as you sat up. You growled from irritation when you realized you were in your room.

“(Y/N), are you alright? It seemed like you were having another nightmare.” V’s worried voice relaxed you. He softly caressed your face then kissed your forehead.

“The dream with the damned door...like almost every night now…” You were so frustrated with it. At first, you didn’t mind not opening it. You can’t always achieve something on the first attempt. After a couple weeks, well...It started to become frustrating. You tried to stop yourself from going near the door. The temptation of seeing what was behind it grew stronger with each attempt to open it. Not only did it create the most interesting scenarios the closer you got to opening it. It also seemed to be calling you to it. You were too close to give up on it now.

You yawned as you rubbed your temples. Lazily, you kissed V on the cheek then made your way to the bathroom. Whispered curses could be heard through the bathroom door. 

V’s eyes followed you until the door blocked his view. His worry for you grows each time you mention the door to him. Ever since you started to dream about that door, you slowly started to become different. When the door made its first appearance, you became more irritable. V thought the irritability was from difficulty sleeping. He read poetry to you before bed but it didn’t always work. 

The next thing V noticed was your interactions with everyone changed. Most of the time you would secretly observe them as if you were on a mission. Sometimes, you would barely talk to them or get lost during a conversation. V knew you were listening. It just seemed other stuff was on your mind. Other times you put up your guard when around a crowd of people.

Attempts to discuss your behavioral changes were made. Each time you yelled at V, confirming nothing was wrong. When you realized you were yelling at him, you automatically apologized. You explained to V you had no idea why you were acting the way you were. V would try to get some sort of explanation out of you. Eventually, you explained it was your dream with the door. The weaker the door got, the more realistic the dreams from it felt. 

V was certain the door in your dreams was the seal to your memories. V brought up his concerns for you with Vergil the first chance he got. Solemnly, Vergil explained to V once the seal was released it cannot be remade. V was furious but hid it well. Instead of dealing with his feelings about this, he focused on you. Whenever you needed him, he was there. Whenever you were feeling down or anxious, he would do everything he could to make you feel better and safe.

--------------------------

You and V were on a double date with Nero and Kyrie. Kyrie wanted to have dinner at a new restaurant on the other side of Red Grave. The subway ride there was like any other subway ride. Nothing exciting to see. All of you chatted with each other, trying to decide where else to go besides the restaurant. You were excited to see a whole new part of Red Grave. It took the government long enough to start rebuilding it after what happened. Yet for some reason an uneasy feeling started to consume you.

Kyrie and Nero got off the subway with V following behind them. They’re voices faded as they neared the exit. You sat in the subway, staring at the advertisement on the station’s wall. The advertisement seemed familiar to you in a way. Yes, you’ve seen this advertisement in many places but that wasn’t it. It was as if this specific advertisement contained something. You were convincing yourself it was nothing and to catch up with the others. You couldn’t think of any reason as to why you didn’t want to get off the subway. You forced yourself to get off when the last call was announced.

A flash from a faulty light took you to a destroyed version of the subway station. The advertisement you were looking at before was torn. Not from age but from claws. As you turned your head, you saw the subway was no longer on the tracks. It was stuck in the wall on the opposite side of the tracks. Chunks of the station were around you, along with corpses. Broken electrical wires and pipes were above you. You turned your head again. Your eyes focused on the claws about to strike you. Your instincts screamed at you to defend yourself. “Get away from me!”

“V, are you okay?!” Kyrie’s voice rang through your ears. Your eyes shot open. The station was intact. Not one thing was out of place. Nero was helping V get up. V reassured Nero he could get up on his own. You could see a bruise forming on his chest. You were petrified. Nothing could explain what just happened or why. I attacked V? No, that’s not right. I punched something else. I was being attacked.

“V, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” You examined V’s chest while apologizing to him over and over. V continued his reassurance. He didn’t want to ruin anyone’s mood, especially yours. He kept quiet about how much your punch hurt him. He gently wiped your guilt ridden tears. He kissed your hand, then led the way to the restaurant. You squeezed his hand, pouring your emotions into it. “I’m so sorry, my love.”

V kept himself composed the entire time. Within himself, V was more than worried. He felt your fear through your punch. Your eyes were filled with fear and yet they had determination. The last time he saw you like this was when you almost died. V had no doubt your memories will be freed soon. 

V and Nero froze as you and Kyrie crossed the street. Disbelief filled them. They couldn’t believe the shitty luck today was presenting. The restaurant was on the roof of the building you were held captive at. Nero was spitting out excuses for V to get you away from here. There was no way either of them could let you enter that building, let alone let you eat dinner exactly where you were almost murdered. Before either of them could get to you, they watched Kyrie pull you into the building. Nero muttered “fuck” as he and V made their way to the restaurant.

Nervously, you laughed as Kyrie pulled you to the building. The uneasy feeling from earlier strengthened the closer you got to it. The feeling continued to worsen as you reached the roof. Your stomach was in knots. Your breathing started to become shaky. Your mind screamed for you to get away. You couldn't understand what was going on with you. You noticed Nero and V were a bit hesitant about coming to this place too. So maybe it wasn’t just you freaking out over nothing. 

You wrapped a few ice cubes in napkins then placed it on V’s chest. You kept apologizing to him. You couldn’t understand why he wasn’t mad at you. All you saw was his concern for you. You wanted to explain to V what happened earlier. Just not with an audience. Everyone would think you lost your damn mind. 

You couldn't stop yourself from figuring out why the events from earlier happened. Your mind conjured up so many reasons. You tried to figure out which one was a plausible reason. You didn’t want V to hear it was because of your damned dreams again. You’ve been using them as an excuse for too long. You could only conclude work may be starting to become too much. Maybe you needed a vacation. Who knows? 

“(Y/N)”? You looked at Nero like a deer in headlights. Was he reading your mind? You weren’t sure. He was giving you a questioning look. Sheepishly, you apologized for not listening then asked him to repeat himself. You found out everyone was discussing the changes made when this part of town was rebuilt.

“What happened here? I know the Qliphoth was here. It just seems something else happened too.” Nero threw V into the spotlight. V’s explanation was vague. It barely gave you the answer you were looking for. You gave Kyrie a look, silently asking her if V was hiding something from you. Kyrie’s reply was a subtle shrug. She had no idea what was going on.

Dinner continued normally. It was as if everything from earlier never happened. Nero and Kyrie acting lovey dovey. You and V were trying not to tease them. It scared you how easily everyone was able to push something like that aside. 

V glanced at you, looking for any sign that you were well. Ever since you entered the restaurant he noticed you were shaking. He knew you were attempting to hide it. The shaking appeared so strong, everyone thought you were freezing. He noticed you barely touched your food even though you claimed you were starving earlier. V thought it was best if you and him went home after dinner.

You and everyone else walked along the edge of the roof to exit the restaurant. V used his cane to deviate your wandering eyes to him. He made absolutely sure you didn’t look below or beyond. He had to. He wanted to prevent you from feeling worse than you already are. He feared you would remember what happened here.

Kyrie managed to find enough room to take a couple of pictures. Nero tried to get out of it by saying he didn’t look decent enough. V attempted to convince Kyrie to wait since the restaurant was crowded. Kyrie asked what was the harm of taking a couple pictures. It’s been too long since Kyrie got to take group photos. Also, the sunset would be the perfect background. The guys sighed in defeat.

You and Kyrie gushed over the pictures as you continued to leave the restaurant. Nero pleaded with Kyrie to wait until she was out of the restaurant to look at them. Kyrie showed Nero the picture she was currently looking at. Nero made a quick comment, then placed his hands on her shoulders. You and V watched Nero guide Kyrie. It was entertaining, even impressive. Nero had Kyrie dodge everyone coming through the door.

Your laughter at Nero and Kyrie was abruptly interrupted. Someone forced their way between you and V causing you to slam into the railing. As you situated yourself, you caught a glimpse of a black haired figure below. For just a second, the figure looked like a beaten V. You knew V wasn’t down there, he was next to you. You couldn’t stop yourself from checking. You saw V, then someone strangely familiar looking at the table behind him. Briefly, you tried to remember how you knew him.

“Are you ok-tell me who killed Carmilla!” The calm voice evolved into an aggressive demand. You couldn’t figure out who was talking to you. The demand was repeated. You kept quiet. You had no idea who Carmilla was. You don’t remember any mission involving anyone with that name. The harshness of the demand escalated until it evolved into yelling in your ear. You covered your ears but it sounded like it was coming from all over. Even from right next to you.

“I’m not telling you shit. Give up.” The haughty voice was yours, but you didn’t move your lips. The sound of powerful strikes, along with your whimpers followed.  Frantically, you searched for help. Nothing. No one. It was just you and the one asking about Carmilla. You closed your eyes preparing for the next strike. You started to take deep breaths. It was the only thing you believed would put everything back into place.

Few people asked if V wanted them to call an ambulance. V persuaded everyone to leave you be. He reassured them you would be fine and needed to be left alone. He knew the best thing for you was to have as much space as possible. To have as much time as you need to gather yourself. He knew you needed him too, but there was no way to physically calm you without possibly making the situation worse.

You stood still, gripping the rail for dear life. V studied the rhythm of your deep breaths and heaving chest. It was obvious you were trying to calm yourself. Even more obvious you were currently reliving your time while held captive here. Nightmarish thoughts raced through V’s mind. Nothing he conjured could be compared to what you actually went through. He wanted to understand but couldn’t come close to. In hopes of helping you and calming himself, V recited poetry from his book. “To see a world in a  grain of sand…”

“WHO KILLED CARMILLA?! TELL ME! TELL...poor souls...dwell in night...does…” Softly, the harsh demands transformed into V’s poetic voice. You completely focused on V’s voice, hoping he wouldn’t stop. The man in front of you morphed into V. Tears cascaded your face as you tightened your closed eyes. You begged V to stay with you. You wanted nothing more than for this madness to end. 

Gingerly, you opened your tear ridden eyes. You were back at the restaurant. For the most part, everything was back to normal. It was darker and people were failing to not steal glances at you and V. V was still standing next to you. He gently closed his book, then turned to you. Concern and worry were radiating off of him. V pulled you into a hug as soon as he saw your tears. You gripped V’s hand for dear life as he led you out of the restaurant.

As soon as V opened the door, Griffon flew around the house. You headed to your bedroom with Shadow behind. You collapsed on the bed, burying your head in your pillow. You released the anxiety and fear you have been holding. You screams and cries could be heard throughout your home. To help calm yourself you cuddled with Shadow, letting her fur catch your tears. Shadow’s purring was the perfect lullaby to fall asleep to, especially after today.

“...H-HE-LP!...HELP!...He-help...” Those pleas were all the encouragement you needed to continue to get through the door. Nothing was going to stop you this time. You mustered your strength then delivered one final strike against the door. The barrier dissipated, as it pushed you away one last time. The door became ajar. 

Regret consumed you as soon as you stepped through the door. A blinding flash brought you to an abandoned building. Someone similar looking to the man from the restaurant was interrogating someone who looked like you. The person being interrogated was severely beaten. It was obvious the man was doing whatever he pleased. No one was around to stop him. It wouldn’t be long until the person was dead. In an attempt to stop him, you jumped on his back. He threw you across his back. Somehow you merged with the one you were trying to save.

The man deeply slashed your abdomen. He was merciless. It felt as if he was never going to stop until he got what he wanted. Not once did his sinister smile disappear. If anything, it grew with each of your screams, your pleas. You screamed for help but no one came.

The strike to your head was excruciating. You gripped your head, screaming, as your mind released every single memory that was sealed away. Meeting V at the grocery store. Tracking Carmilla. Working with V. Your fight with Carmilla. Your captivity. All of them. It was too much for your mind to process at once.

V raced to your bedroom as soon as he heard you scream. Quickly, he studied the room and determined nothing was amiss. V attempted to loosen the ironclad grip you had on your head. V winced from pain when you grabbed his hands. It was possible you may have sprained his finger or two. V didn’t care. He stayed with you, reminding you how strong you are and how you can get through this.

Once you were calm V asked if you were hurt. Hysterically, you described your nightmare. The torture, the pain. The rush of other dreams within it. It felt so real to you. As if it happened to you as you dreamt it. V tried to explain that even though you were attacked in your dream it doesn’t mean the attacks actually happened. You were having none of it. You described every attack explicitly while tracing each one on your body.

V tried his best to calm you. Nothing he did relieved you. Not one bit. Your mind was frantically processing the memories it released. You couldn’t think straight. V tried to hug you but you pushed him away. His hurt expression made you feel worse, but you had no choice. You needed to stay away from him. You weren’t sure if the one in front of you was V or a Soul Snatcher; friend or enemy.

“Who the fuck are you?” Shakily, you cocked your gun, indicating you weren’t playing around. Shadow immediately placed herself between you and V. Griffon babbled about you not recognizing V or them. You didn’t care. You just needed to know what was going on.

“(Y/N) put the gun down and I’ll answer all of your questions.” Your defensive aggressiveness from before your memories were sealed has returned. There was no way V could weasel his way to convince you nothing was going on. To V this situation felt like he was reliving his very first encounter with you.

Your eyes narrowed with suspicion. Would he attack once you lower your gun? Will he actually tell the truth? What if this was a Soul Snatcher? Too many questions raced through your mind. You had no idea what part of yourself to listen to. Fuck it. You needed answers. “Lie or attack, I’ll make you regret it.”

For your sake V had to prove he wasn’t a Soul Snatcher. He recalled when he gave you the ring you were wearing. Hearing your argument made V realize it was pointless to retell the time you spent together. He was determined to prove he wasn’t a Soul Snatcher. No matter what. The only thing he could think of that a Soul Snatcher couldn’t do was summon Nightmare. Doing so caused quite a scare for your neighbors.

Your neighbors panic soon turned into silence. Irritated tension was all either of you could feel. Both of you wanted to say something. Neither of you knew what to say or where to start. So you both stayed quiet, trying to figure out what to say. The silence was unbearable for Griffon but he managed to stay quiet. God knows what either of you would do if Griffon said anything.

You took one deep breath, then decided to tell V everything about your time in captivity. The torture, the Soul Snatchers involved, your thoughts. Everything. You turned yourself away from V when you started crying. V attempted to reach over to comfort you but you indicated for him to stay where he was. You didn’t want to be touched by anyone. 

V wanted to hold you. He wanted to do anything and everything he could to remind you you’re safe with him. But he fought himself from doing anything that would make you uncomfortable. He knew you would fulfill your promise if he did anything you saw as a threat.

If V had to be honest, he didn’t want to explain what happened when he found you. Besides the fact he was like you; not wanting to show weakness or vulnerability. He isn’t proud of how he reacted. That night was a tornado to him. It was fast and destructive yet it was a blur. Still. It was no excuse to not tell you. You told him everything. Now it was his turn. V sucked it up and reluctantly told you what happened.

You listened to V, unsure how to take it. At first, you were terrified to hear you almost died. (You remembered you made the choice but it was frightening to think about.) Soon fright turned into anger. You blamed V for having your memories sealed. Not long after, you questioned if being with V was the right thing for you. You even questioned if you would be with V after everything that happened. 

V sat across from you, waiting for you to say anything. He was aware you were angry. He knew you would need time to process everything. It could take a long time, but V was more than willing to do whatever he could to help you. Except for one thing.

“I-I...I don’t know how to take in all of this...I-I think I need to sp-spend some time away from y-you. To absorb everything I just remembered..a-and what we just talked about...I also have to think of what’s be-est for me.” V’s heart broke in two. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He was at a loss for words. He was unable to argue with you.

“Don’t.” You froze. V’s hand was hovering above yours. Without touching you, he guided your hand to lower itself, then release the clothing you were holding. Was V going to convince you to stay with him? You couldn’t tell. You knew he was going to say something. He was close to you but stepped away. “You should stay here. I’ll leave.”

You couldn’t believe what you just heard. Why would he leave? You should be the one leaving. You whipped your head around to see if V was really leaving. He was. Already he grabbed his bag, then his book. It didn’t take long for him to gather the rest of what he needed. Once he was packed, he approached you. You anticipated him doing some gesture to say goodbye. Your heart broke when he did nothing except say his goodbye. With each step V took away from you, you felt more alone than ever before. When he was completely gone you believed you made the wrong choice.

[twisted-tales-of-all]

The True Commitment

Bodyguard!Jeno x (Gender Ambiguous) Lawyer!Reader ft. Lawyer!Taeyong

Requested by @mirohhhuuuu​

Summary: As a lawyer specializing in werewolf-human affairs, you run the high risk of attacks from those whose cases didn’t work out properly. You’ve had multiple bodyguards injured before, but this new bodyguard deals with the idea of werewolf attacks suspiciously well. What’s his secret?

Word Count: ~2.2K

Warnings: Werewolf AU, mentions of death and trauma, violence, betrayal, lying

"What are you going to do now? That's the fourth guard to get injured this month. Nobody will want to work for you anymore, Y/N." Your partner, Taeyong, asks, worried for your safety.

"Believe it or not, there's a resume that came in earlier today. At least one person still wants to be my bodyguard."

"Yeah, until they get injured, too. They'll quit, just like the others. Why can't you go back to non-violent cases? It's only been a month, but you've been threatened and attacked so much already."

You roll your eyes at Taeyong, not wanting to explain for the hundredth time that solving violent crimes has been your dream since the incident with your brother. You were only 12 years old then, but you knew that the person they convicted in the case was wrong. You've felt wronged all these years, insisting that you'd find his killer to truly bring him peace. Taeyong's heard the story plenty of times; he knows why you refuse to stick to non-violent cases, but he can't help but worry that your obsession with your brother's killer will end with your injury.

As the two of you part ways, you breathe out and pull out your headphones, deciding to blast music to get rid of your thoughts for the small remainder of the walk home. As you walk up the stairs of your building, you notice something unusual about the second flight, seeing them stained by a black liquid. Taking no chances, you decide to call the elevator to take you up the remaining way to the fourth floor. When the doors open to your floor, a man stands there, waiting for you. This wasn't someone from any violent case. You truly don't recognize this man, but he definitely recognizes you, diving for you the moment the doors fully open. Luckily, you've trained your reflexes enough to dodge him and hit the "door close" button on the elevator before rushing out and down the hall.

Quickly, you unlock the door and slam it behind you as you enter your apartment. You lock the three locks you have and lean against the door, wondering who the man was. It's possible he was a friend or family member of someone you put in jail, but, usually, they don't get that violent. With a shake of your head, you throw the thought away. Instead, you dig the new resume out of your bag and sit down to look it over.

"Hm... Seems promising. He's young, too, so he should be pretty fast. I usually wouldn't hire teens, but I don't have much of a choice."

You dial the number on the resume, reaching voicemail. You leave him a message, asking him when he can start work. Then, you throw yourself onto your bed, exhausted.

"Don't worry, Jaejoong. Slowly, but surely, I'll give you your peace."

With that, you drift off to sleep, woken up in the morning to banging on your front door. Grabbing your phone to check the time, you're blinded by the bright pop-up, indicating that you have 14 missed calls from Taeyong, despite it only being 7 AM.

"Ugh... What on earth?" You roll out of bed, too tired to make yourself presentable. Opening the door, you're greeted by Taeyong screaming at you.

"Why can't you wake up early like the rest of us? I've been trying to call you! The office is trashed! Whoever it was probably destroyed evidence in the case we're close to closing!"

Still too tired to deal with it, you shrug it off and head back to your bed. Taeyong follows you, giving you a run-down of everything that's happened. While you ignore most of it, one part catches your attention, "Wait, say that again."

"Some kid came by, asking for you. Said you called him last night about working."

"He went to the office? Damn it, kid. You should've just called me back." You scramble to get your phone, dialing the number again, ignoring your partner's rant about hiring a child.

You finish the call and rush to get ready. Taeyong, who accepted being ignored, lays on your bed while scrolling through his social media feed, unfazed by your sudden energy spike. Once you're ready, you announce it to your partner, who simply follows you out the door.

When you both arrive at the office, a young man with innocent brown eyes waits for you at the entrance.

"Jeno, right? I'm Y/N and this is my friend, Taeyong. We usually work together on cases, but you'll be working under me. I work with violent and non-violent cases that involve werewolves. Do you think you can handle guarding me, even if werewolves come and attack?"

Without batting an eye, the boy calmly insists that he believes he can, "Trust me. I'll do better than any other guard you've hired."

"What makes you so sure?" You hear Taeyong chuckle at your question, so you turn your attention to him.

"I'm sure he has his reasons. Let's just let him prove it."

It's strange for Taeyong to trust someone so quickly, so you take his word on it and hire Jeno on the spot. Then, all three of you make your way upstairs to examine the destroyed office. Taeyong explains that he arrived this morning to the office door broken down and the inside completely trashed. He asked for the security tapes but found nothing unusual on them, so he insists that someone hacked the system.

During Taeyong's long explanation, Jeno walks away and takes a look at the nearest camera.

"Liar." He starts, gaining everyone's attention. "How can you check them when they were turned off yesterday?"

You look to the evidence and see that Jeno is telling the truth. The camera is off, with the last recorded time shortly after you and Taeyong left last night.

"Alright, so maybe I didn't check them. I kinda rushed over to check on you, concerned that you might've been attacked at home."

Even though you consider Taeyong one of your most trusted friends, you begin to doubt him, "So, why lie about it, then? Why not just say that so we can check the tapes together?"

Taeyong stumbles over his words, trying to explain how he wanted to sound more productive than he truly was. Although you tell him he's forgiven for the slip-up, you keep in mind that he was the first one to see the destruction. As much as you don't want to suspect your friend, you know that you need to think logically and consider all suspects. Jeno also clearly suspects him, always making sure he's in between you and Taeyong, keeping his eye on him no matter what.

After you clean up the disaster in your office, you only find one thing missing: the file on your brother's case. You're infuriated at this, as it makes it even more likely that Taeyong had some involvement in this. However, still not wanting to suspect him too much, you choose not to confront him until finding more evidence against him.

While the day started in chaos, the workday drags on. You and Taeyong discuss the case you're working on for the weekend while Jeno sits nearby, hyperfocused on your partner.

Once the workday ends, you find yourself walking home with Jeno instead of Taeyong, who went home about a half-hour earlier.

"Jeno, you suspect him, too, right?"

"There's no good reason to lie about checking the tapes, so yes. I'll be keeping an eye on him, even if you call him your friend."

"Good idea. It wasn't just the security camera that bugs me. He said the intruder destroyed evidence that was still there. The only thing missing was a folder of a personal case of mine. He's disliked my interest in the case for years."

He agrees that it's very suspicious, but before you can continue the conversation any further, a man jumps out in front of you, knife aimed directly at you. Quickly, Jeno brings you behind him. The man still directs his threats at you, telling you to drop the Jaejoong case. You freeze for a second, eyes wide, but anger boils inside.

"Why should I drop it, huh? What's that to you?!" The rage erupts when you recognize him, "You're the guy who attacked me last night! What the hell did I do to you?! Are you the one who actually killed him?! What do you know?!"

At this point, Jeno has to not only protect you from the assailant but also hold you back from attacking the stranger at the same time. He struggles to stay between the two of you, and the stranger only makes it worse by taunting you.

"So what if I killed him, huh? What are you gonna do? What if I came back for his little sibling? Maybe I should've killed you both back then." He jokes with a smirk plastered on his face. 

Although he's clearly faking it, you lunge yourself forward, blinded by your anger. Jeno manages to stop you just before the stranger jabs at you, getting cut in your place. Hearing his groan of pain snaps you back to reality, so you look to him to make sure he's okay. Rather than looking at you, he steadies himself before punching the guy in the chest. The stranger drops the knife as his hands fly to his chest, trying to regain the breath that the punch took from his lungs. Jeno kicks the knife back towards you, and you cover your hand to pick it up without leaving your fingerprints. When you look back to the two boys, Jeno has one of the assailant's hands pinned behind his back tightly.

"So, what do we do with him?"

Before you respond, you dial the police and explain the situation. After hanging up, you simply respond, "That."

The stranger starts laughing - a laugh fit for a psychopath - and slowly lifts his head towards you. His teeth showing clear, sharper than human teeth. Suddenly, you realize the danger. He wasn't just any man with a knife - no, this man is a werewolf. In a matter of mere seconds, your worry for Jeno grows stronger. He's still a teenager, with years to look forward to. He shouldn't be risking his life to protect - SMACK.

The noise brings you back to reality, and you make a mental note about zoning out too much. Looking over, you expect the worst. You fear that the wolf overpowered Jeno and ran, maybe taking a piece of your bodyguard with him. What you find, however, is the wolf's face against the floor, Jeno's hand holding him down with ease.

"You... can overpower a werewolf?" Your confusion shows.

"This lame excuse of anything more than a human isn't a wolf. Most of the people that get called werewolves are only dogs, nowadays." He calmly explains everything, "It's hard to tell the difference as a human, so everyone is blanketed under 'werewolf,' and we don't fight it."

"We? So, then... If you're more powerful than a, uh, a weredog? Does this mean you're a werewolf?"

"Oh, Taeyong didn't mention that?"

At that moment, the police show up, take the attacker to their car, and start asking you and Jeno questions about the incident. You explain what happened, hand over the man's weapon, and give them your card so they can call you if they need you again. Before they leave, they warn you both to be safe. You and Jeno finally continue your walk to your apartment after seeing the officers off.

"So, Taeyong knows?" You finally ask as you unlock the door to your apartment, gesturing for Jeno to come in after you.

"I assumed that's why he told you to hire me. He's a dog, y'know. He could feel it."

Your eyes grow wide. You and Taeyong worked together for years, yet he never told you anything. Slowly but surely, you feel like Taeyong isn't who you believed him to be at all.

"Y/N? Didn't you know that? I figured that's why the two of you were partners. That's usually how it works - a human and a hybrid usually work together on hybrid cases; the same goes for wolves, except that it can be a weredog or werewolf on the case because of the blurred lines."

"I had no clue. He never told me. Never even hinted at it. I think I'm gonna have to sleep on this thought. Did you want to stay? You're free to use the couch."

After the day's events, Jeno decides that it's best if he stays. After all, he has to protect you, even if it's from your closest friend. He promised his dad that he'd atone for his brother's mistakes. Even if you never figure out that he destroyed the office and stole your file. Even if he has to forever hide the fact that his brother killed yours. He'll protect you. From anything.

Especially since you're his mate. He's known since the day you met years ago. He'd never mistake your sweet scent for anyone else. No matter what, he'll keep his mate safe, even if his own brother comes back to hurt you.

[undreaming-fanfiction]

A Night to Remember: The Company

Fandom: Cats the musical Rating: T (could potentially go up later) Pairing: multiple in future chapters, Tuggoffelees, Victoria/Plato, Demeter/Munkustrap etc. Category: magical circus AU, slow burn Chapter number: 7 Chapter summary: Quaxo and Victoria meet the troupe members, two sets of twins included.

The previous chapter: Persuasion

Quaxo prided himself on having an exceptionally good memory. He didn't need any notes, reminders, scribbles on his forearms or whatever people did to keep track of things, he just always knew what he had to do and when to do it. When Victoria asked him about it (and actually forced him to think about it, not letting him get away with is usual shrug and mischievous "it's magic!"), he realized, much to his dismay, that it was partially in his nature, but more importantly, he was just always focused. He found it much more difficult to relax than his sister did, distrusting everyone and everything. Always knowing where he stood helped him feel better, prepared. He was not the one to be lulled into a false sense of security.

 And then he walked into that tent. And he felt...calm. And his uneasiness about Macavity and all the things he had to do before their performance just...became muted. Floated away. He was fully in the present, relaxed, not multitasking. And he hated it. He stopped in his tracks, trying to make sense of what he was feeling. It was reminiscent of what he felt the night before. 

 Tugger tapped on his shoulder from behind. "Really, Mr. Magician. No one here wants to harm you - at least unless you keep blocking the entrance, then you might cause some mild annoyance and perhaps a few pranks if you catch the attention of a certain duo - so cheer up and move your feet," he winked at the younger man and, without waiting for a response, nudged Quaxo's side. What left Quaxo's lips was definitely not a squeak and he was definitely not ticklish, but he never approved of being touched without prior agreement (or, if he was to be fully honest, by anyone who wasn't Victoria), so he took several strides inside and crossed his arms. Just to make sure. 

 Victoria was already exploring the tent, her eyes huge and full of wonder. I've never been to a circus before, she smiled at Jenny, rubbing her wrists as if she wanted to touch everything, to truly get a feel of the place. Such a large stage! I can't wait to see this place during a show!

 "Still too small for some," Jenny returned her smile, her eyes travelling to Tugger with an unusually mischievous spark. "Just a bit further, dear. The tent is indeed impressive, but the most interesting feature of our show are the performers. Don't you want to meet them first?" 

 And truly, as the siblings got used to the muted lighting, they saw that there were figures seated all around, quietly chatting and glancing in their direction. It was still too dim to see their faces properly, but some features were very distinguishable - there were two figures next to each other, a man and woman of roughly the same age as Quaxo and Victoria, very similar - twins? Their hair was giving a coppery reflection and, unlike others who seemed to be nervous or at least expectant, these two seemed relaxed, sometimes giggling and nudging each other. Their movements were strangely synchronized. Just behind them, a silhouette of a man with crossed arms could be seen, with an air of defiance. He was watching the two with apparent distaste for their laid-back attitude. There were more performers present, but as they finally entered the circus ring, Quaxo recognized Munkustrap's silhouette near the back of the tent. He was supporting someone, a tall, impressive figure, who was approaching them with slow and careful steps. The humming around the tent intensified. 

 "Thank you for coming," smiled Munkustrap and Quaxo could finally confirm his suspicion that it was indeed him whose calming aura was throwing him off. He bit his lower lip and twitched in annoyance when he heard Tugger's quiet chuckle, as if he knew exactly what Quaxo was feeling. With a side glance, he saw the man take one of the seats at the back, observing from afar. 

 As he assisted the tall man and seated him on one of the close chairs, the siblings could finally see his face. He must have been very old, his wrinkled face told as much - but the air of experience, wisdom and most of all, kindness, made Quaxo drawn to that man, not in the unnaturally calming way Munkustrap influenced him, but as someone he yearned to learn from, to draw inspiration. Victoria seemed to be feeling the same way, her breathing quiet and eyes never leaving the old man's. And when he spoke, both siblings suddenly understood why he was able to create this so-called haven for people with powers. It was impossible to resist his charm. 

 "Thank you for accepting our invitation." His smile was sincere and voice deep and calming. "I am called Old Deuteronomy and it was at my request that my sons visited you yesterday. As they told you, we are a...particular company. This circus originally started as a small place to allow our kind to be who we really are without having to hide. That is the goal we still have today. If you decide to accept our proposal, the people in this tent will become more than your coworkers - they will be your colleagues, neighbors, friends and family. Because of that, you will want to meet them before making the final decision. I am also here to answer any questions you may have, may it be regarding our circus, your powers or anything else." He nodded towards Munkustrap. "I understand that you, young lady, are a telepath?" 

 Victoria nodded and, to Quaxo's surprise, stuttered in her response despite not using her vocal chords. Y-yes! Yes, Old Deuteronomy. Well, I mean, I can project thoughts when I move...but not read them. So only half a telepath, or one-way telepath, I am afraid...

  Old Deuteronomy chuckled and winked at her. "Well, that is still half a telepath more than most people are! Splendid! You would be a great asset to our troupe. And you, young man?" 

 Quaxo, to his displeasure, felt all gazes shifting towards him. He felt as if he were under a microscope. "I...don't think I can describe it that much," he grumbled uncomfortably. "I can change some things around me. Swap things in their places, make some fortunate or unfortunate things happen when there is a chance they could happen. Or enhance some features."

 The old man's expression did not change, but his eyes showed deep interest. "Curious. Some kind of reality adjustment then? That is very interesting! You too are more than welcome to join our group if you want to. Now then, is there anything I can answer for you?" 

 Before Quaxo could react, Victoria took a step forward. Yes, well...I would like to know - why us? What causes these powers to appear? 

  "A good question, one that I can answer only partially, I am afraid. The gifts, as we call them, are still a mystery in many regards. There are various type, be it some kind of aura that one can spread around them, or an active ability. Anyone can manifest these powers. However, if a child is born to a parent with a gift, they are much more likely to have one of their own. They do not seem to repeat themselves, at least we haven't seen a single person who would manifest the same trait as someone in our troupe. They can be similar, but always unique in a certain regard. There seems to be one exception to the rule, and that is twins sharing one gift." 

 The two giggling figures Quaxo saw earlier suddenly bolted up from their seats and took overly dramatic bows, grinning at the stunned siblings. Light finally hit their faces and Victoria took a deep breath at the similarity - both their expressions, their movements, it was as if one person split into two, only of different genders. "Old D. means us!" exclaimed the man and ruffled his sister's hair. "Pleasure to meet you! We are Mungojerrie and-ouf!" he wheezed when the girl's elbow nudged his side. 

 "And Rumpleteazer!" she exclaimed, returning the ruffle. "And before you have to ask, because that's what every newbie wants to know, our gift is sharing control over our bodies. For instance, I can make Jerrie slap himself! But I don't like to do it, because we also share pain. Also tickling. I hate it when he tickles himself." 

 "I only do it when you deserve it, Teazer," snickered Mungojerrie and leaned against his sister. "And if you think we're an exception and that not all twins have to share a gift, let me introduce our competition. Because we're not the only twins here. Come on, say hi to the newcomers!" he tapped the shoulder of a girl in front of him. 

 Reluctantly, she stood up and so did the man next to her. Their height difference wasn't as noticeable compared to Teazer and Jerrie, but their features were also surprisingly similar - the same straight dark hair, slicked back and shiny, the same dark, unreadable eyes and neutral expression. "Nice to meet you, Quaxo and Victoria," she said without blinking. Victoria shivered next to Quaxo and he too felt completely bare under those two pairs of eyes. "I am Tantomile. This is my brother Coricopat. We are mind readers." 

 Now it was the brother who spoke. "Yes, Victoria. We are what Old Deuteronomy talked about - similar power, but still unique. We are the other half of your telepathy. Except for each other." 

 "Our minds are connected," added Tantomile, answering Quaxo's question before he could phrase it. "We can exchange our thoughts freely, but as for others, we can only read them. But don't worry, we usually choose not to, as we perceive it an invasion of privacy." 

 Teazer hugged the telepathic twins from behind. "They are amazing! You definitely want to see their act, people are so freaked out!" 

 Jenny laughed and raised her finger at Teazer. "And they are very useful when someone, not mentioning which set of non-mindreading twins, steals Munkustrap's favorite mug and we need to find out who did it." 

 The man sitting behind Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer scoffed. "Not that we need anyone to read their thoughts to figure that out. It's always them, whenever there's a disruption." 

 He ignored the pretended outrage from the twins, but Jenny didn't let him off the hook so easily. "Now now, Plato. Since you are more talkative than usual, why don't you introduce yourself as well?" 

 With a grunt and poorly hidden, if hidden at all, distaste, the man stood up. He was taller than most of the troupe members, perhaps with the exception of Old Deuteronomy and his sons, and even though he was young, his face seemed older than one would expect. Perhaps it was his defiant expression that made him look almost pained. "Plato, welcome to our humble abode. I have perhaps the lamest power ever - I can transfer emotions when I move." He glared at the siblings, as if he expected them to laugh at him. 

 Why would that be lame? blinked Victoria, raising her eyebrows. Do you think my power is lame?

 The defiance was immediately replaced by confusion. "...I...what? No, no I don't, I mean..." 

 Victoria smiled at him with such sincerity and innocence that Quaxo almost felt sorry for the man. He was utterly unprepared for her charm. You have no idea how happy it makes me to finally find someone who has a similar power! And such an awesome one at that! When you give people words, you still need to rely on them to interpret them. But you - you can make people feel things! That is incredible! 

  Old Deuteronomy burst into laughter and so did a few performers around the stage. "See, Plato? We kept telling you and you did not believe us. Perhaps this admirable young lady will finally make you change your mind?" 

 And with that, the atmosphere in the tent changed. The reluctant acceptance transformed into excitement - finally, a new arrival! Apparently, there were only a few people who joined the circus in the last years, so Quaxo and Victoria were considered a breath of fresh air. And the siblings shook hands, talked, but mostly listened and learned about the people who, if they wanted them to be, would become their new family. 

 They learned (from Jenny because the man could not be bothered to tell them himself) that Tugger was able to bend people to his will, although he wasn't able to control it, he did it subconsciously. "He doesn't like to talk about it," she teased, watching the rebellious man giving her an evil glare, "because he still hasn't found out how the gift works. The ones who were around him since he was young build some sort of an immunity, or at least awareness when it starts happening so we can fight it. You have no idea how long it took us to make him eat his vegetables when he was a child. His gift mostly works on people he doesn't live with, or at least that meet him sporadically - those can't resist it. Or that's what we thought until last night," she giggled and winked at Quaxo. "Still, it has its merits. He has one of the most unique acts in the circus, as you'll see. And my power? I am afraid it's nowhere as interesting, dears - I can transfer intent. Basically, if you mean no harm to a person and they still don't believe you, I can persuade them by making them feel what you feel towards them." 

 There was Alonzo, a man with a curious pigment spot over his entire left eye socket. He casually greeted the siblings and mentioned his gift - the marked eye could see several seconds into the future, sometimes even longer. He used to work as a fortune teller at fairs before joining the circus and took over the knife-throwing act. His gift made sure he'd never harm his assistant. 

 Munkustrap also approached them with a wide smile and, seeing Quaxo's posture, forced himself to relax and eased the calm aura. He explained that his gift was calming people in his vicinity, no matter how agitated they were. As he was in charge of keeping the troupe functional and in good spirits, he sometimes went a bit overboard, especially when he was nervous and expected trouble. "Not that I expected trouble from you," he quickly added when he saw Quaxo staring daggers at him, "but whenever there is a newcomer, people can get nervous." 

 And when it came to being nervous, no one was as jumpy as a certain young woman was. Demeter was also a newcomer and apparently, she had some very bad experience. She didn't talk to the newcomers much, mostly just nodded and didn't leave her friend Bombalurina's side. Munkustrap politely mentioned that it would be better to talk to both of them later, as crowds made Demeter feel uneasy. Nodding at Bombalurina, she took her friend's arm and led her out from the tent. 

 There were many more new faces and names and even more mentioned, such as Bustopher Jones, the circus's patron who only stopped by once or twice a week, as his gift made him easily overwhelmed - he read emotions and senses, but unlike the telepathic twins, he could not switch his power off and would often seek solitude, just to quiet his mind. 

 After the conversations have quieted down and everyone said their hopeful goodbyes, the siblings were left alone with Munkustrap and Old Deutoronomy. Quaxo was pretty sure Tugger and Jenny were still lurking somewhere in the tent's shadows, but he found it difficult to focus on anything but the old man. "Now, my young friends - we do not ask you to decide immediately, we know that it is a significant change of your lifestyle. Think it over, you have every right do so

  So what do you think? Victoria asked on their way home. Quaxo didn't need to ask her for her opinion, she was never able to hide her excitement - she was giddy and radiated such happiness that Quaxo hasn't seen in months. 

 "I think they were...nice," he admitted reluctantly. "Also pretty interesting. Sometimes creepy," he admitted when he remembered Coricopat and Tantomile. "Are you thinking of joining them?" 

 I would love to, Victoria admitted, but her smile wavered. I mean, they were such nice people! And interesting too, as you said. But...I would never join without you, brother. I don't want a new family if you're not in it. 

  Quaxo grabbed her hand and squeezed it. "Me too, sis. Let's talk to our boss tomorrow and see what he can do about our contract, what do you say? Perhaps it's time for us to move on." 

-----

I am running out of excuses to give for my slow updates. The only thing I can say is that I love hearing from you guys, I have many ideas for the story but unfortunately life is getting in way of everything, to provide a very short explanation, one of my family members got a cancer relapse and my mother is not doing so well. I try to spend more time with her and support her, but it doesn't leave me in the best state for writing. Thank you everyone who read so far and who hasn't given up on the story yet, you mean more to me than I can describe. This chapter was mostly character introductions and exposure, hopefully there will be some action in the next ones.

[ladyatthecrossroads]

*pulling up to the best drive thru ever* Can I get uh number 18 from the super sappy lines prompt list with reader saying that to Mollymauk?

Anonymous said:

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” (18 from the sappy romance prompt list) with mollymauk and a gender neutral reader ? love your writing btw ! 💕💕

Thank you for the requests, anons! I hope you enjoy this!

As a note, I didn’t originally intend for this to turn into a post about body positivity, but here we are. also I’m bad at titling things…

Title: BeautifulWord Count: 1,640Pairing: Mollymauk x gender-neutral!reader

“Hey, do you wanna come hang with us in our room?” You turn your head at the sound of Beau’s voice, pausing mid-stride in the upper hall of the Pillow Trove. It’s a good thing you do, because you most certainly would have tripped over Fjord, who you now notice is just getting up from sitting in the same hallway outside the rooms you have all rented. Lost in thought as you had been, you didn’t even notice him until just now. But Beau is looking at you with something that is half-expectation and half-dead-pan. She shrugs one shoulder. “‘S just an offer. Y’know, ‘cause Molly…”

As she drags out the tiefling’s name, you can hear a very audible string of laughter and giggles emanating from Fjord and Molly’s room. You blanch. Dear Gods, he wasn’t joking, you realize and give the monk a nod, following Fjord into the room.

Jester is cross-legged on the bed, clutching a luxurious silken pillow and twiddling her fingers at you and Fjord; mainly Fjord. He looks so out of place, his green skin taking on an unusually warm tone. The both of you take a seat wherever available in the lavish suite.

Conversation ensues. You’re honestly impressed; this place is much nicer than any of your previous stays, so far out of all of your price ranges combined, that it feels entirely surreal that you were even here. The hour grows later, not that you take much notice of the passing of time. Sometimes it was good to just sit and talk nonsense with your crew.

That’s when he bursts into the room, lavender skin and tattoos bared to the world, his tapestry of the Platinum Dragon draped over him to give him some modicum of modesty. Mollymauk carries a half-eaten plate of fruit piled with fresh grapes and berries and you think you even spy a cut pomegranate. His jewelry twinkles in the dim candlelight and he has a glow about him that suggests his massage was very nice, indeed.

“I am your god!” he exclaims, ever the drama queen, “Long may I reign. Eat of my fruit.” The rings on his fingers sparkle as he extends the plate before him to share his delectables.

You notice Fjord running his palm over his face, obviously still uncomfortable by this display. As for you, you could feel your own face growing hot. That tapestry really left little to the imagination.

Mollymauk was quite a specimen. You had never known anyone so rich in flavor and flair, flamboyant and vibrant as the peacock tattoo embellishing his skin. Truth be told, despite his often ostentatious mannerisms and insatiable appetite for flirty remarks, you really had grown to like the blood hunter. Quite a lot, actually.

Sanguine eyes rove over your face and catch your stare. He gives a saucy wink and you avert your gaze, unable to keep the heat from growing on your face. You feel a sudden need for some refreshment to cool off. “Drink it all in, love,” he purrs, arms extending to put himself on display, “I am here for your entertainment.”

“Sounds like you had quite a night,” Beau comments, dryly, unfazed by the tiefling’s posturing.

Molly crosses the room to set the fruit bowl upon a table; you snatch a half of the pomegranate in passing, absently picking at the ruby arils. He places a hand upon his chest and takes a satisfied breath. “Never underestimate the power of a good massage and the company of beautiful people. You never know what you’ll learn.”

“I learned I may need to rethink my choice of roommate,” Fjord groans to himself. Molly chuckles under his breath.

“That must have been some massage,” you add, waving a hand in his direction and doing your utmost best to tame your slowly spiraling thoughts. “You’re practically glowing.”

He flexes and you get to watch the lean muscles of his back ripple in response. “Honestly, it’s the most relaxed I’ve felt in a very long time.” He cranes his neck to look at you again. “You should give it a try sometime. I’ll try anything once; that’s my philosophy.”

You let your eyes focus somewhere over his shoulder, nodding your head in consideration as he turns back to Beau and Jester. You sneak another glance his way, entirely too tempted by the long path of skin he’s revealing. Every now and then, the tapestry sways, giving you a lovely little glimpse of his tail and buttocks before shifting back into place.

But then your eyes take in the faded pink lines crisscrossing all up and down the back of his neck and arms, a road map of scars both self-inflicted and otherwise. Some cut through the various ink designs while others seem much more healed over. He doesn’t seem all that bothered to put them out there for you all to see, but that was Mollymauk for you.

You return to the present at the sound of your name being repeated and you blink to focus yourself in. “Hm??”

Molly is staring back at you, deep pools of crimson watching you, closely. He tilts his head, a mildly amused smile softening his features. “I said, I feel like a walk.” The tiefling extends a clawed, lilac hand towards you. “Care to join me?”

You cock an eyebrow in his direction, your mind made up for you before you manage get the remark out. “That depends. Do you plan on actually getting dressed or is public indecency one of your kinks?” You slide to your feet, already prepared to follow wherever he leads you.

He throws his head back and laughs, clasping you on the shoulder as the both of you make your way from the room. “What would you know about my kinks?” he teases.

Behind you, you can barely hear Fjord’s audible sigh of what sounds like relief, as well as Beau’s warning against staying up too late and Jester’s cheerful jeer of, “Goodbye Y/N, bye Molly, have fun!”

Molly’s arm drapes across your shoulder as the two of you stroll casually down the halls of the Pillow Trove, as though one of you isn’t clad in only a gaudy blue and silver tapestry. Occasionally, his hip sways into yours, and you find yourself thinking perhaps it’s not merely by coincidence. He turns, warm breath brushing over your cheek, a hint of the scent of sweet wine reaching your senses, as he leans in to whisper to you. “You know, normally I would say it’s terribly impolite to stare.”

So, he had caught you, after all. Fiddling with the pomegranate half still in your hands, you smile at the ground. “Yes, but you say that as though you don’t enjoy being the center of attention.”

“Point taken,” he says, and you can feel the press of his skin against yours, warm, strong, reassuring. His thumb rubs circles into the flesh of your shoulder in an almost soothing manner. He’s quiet for a moment before speaking up once again, this time in a more serious, softer tone. “Do my scars bother you?”

This is a turn in the conversation you weren’t expecting. So much so that you pause mid-stride and turn to face him, brow furrowed in confusion. “What in the world gave you that impression?”

He stops, turning to face you, and for once you see an expression appear on Molly’s face that you have never before seen. He’s almost bashful, a hand reaching to rub at the back of his head, blood red eyes now avoiding your gaze. His cheerful demeanor is gone, replaced with an oddly insecure look that makes something inside of you ache. “Well, I don’t know, you had this look on your face that just made me think maybe you were disgusted by them.”

“Disgusted?” You cannot help the shock from dropping your jaw right open, gawking at him. “Molly… Molly, look at me.” He does so. “Are you ashamed of your scars?”

“Not really, no…”

“Why would you ever think I would think less of you because of them?” You shake your head and close the distance between the two of you, taking one of his hands in yours and extending it. There’s so many faded wounds all along his forearms, testaments of battles past. “We all have our scars, but that doesn’t define us. Your scars are a part of you, but that doesn’t mean that’s all you are.” You trace patterns into his palm, mimicking something he’s done before with you, though you’re no palm reader, could tell no future from past. You only see the present. You only see Mollymauk.

He tilts his head and gives the faintest smile, and it’s all you need to know he’s at least reassured. “That’s very insightful of you.”

You shrug one shoulder. “Glad to know you value my opinion,” you admit, starting when his fingers close over yours.

“I always have,” he’s quick to reply. The way he stares at you warms you and brings many more questions to your mind, questions that maybe you’re not quite ready to ask while he’s barely clothed.

Pulling back after a moment, you hike your thumb over your shoulder back towards where the both of you had come from. “Well, I guess I should head back. It’s pretty late.”

“You’re telling me.”

“Alright, well… Night, Molly.” Turning, you pause at your door, weighing your words before you speak, daring yourself to say what’s on your mind before you completely lose your nerve. When you glance up, he’s still staring at you from across the hall. “For the record… You could never disgust me. You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” Sanguine eyes widen at this admission, but before he can respond, you’ve returned to your room and shut the door.

[hope-for-olicity]

Fabulous Olicity Fanfic Friday - May 10th, 2019

Happy Friday! So this is my attempt to both thank awesome fanfic writers for their amazing work and offer my recommendations to anyone who is interested. Here are the fantastic fanfic stories I read this week! They are posted in the order I read them. This and all previous Fabulous Olicity Fanfic posts can be found on my blog.

With the Speed of an Arrow multi-chapter Complete by @academyofshipping - Oliver Queen’s elite and silver-spoon life has taken some blows in the past few years, but he is still the carefree billionaire everyone knows of and loves. When his role in the family business is in jeopardy and he is introduced to a motley of new people, his status quo is threatened. With a changed perspective, Oliver realizes his feeling for his best friend and anchor-in-life, Felicity Smoak, may be more than just platonic. OR A modern adaption of Jane Austen’s Emma with a gender swap* and no island. *Knowing that gender is not binary https://archiveofourown.org/works/16559846/chapters/38799857

Tick Tick Boom multi-chapter WIP by @nodecaff4me - This story is loosely based on S02, starting with the appearance of the Clock King. Only this time, Tockman is not just after the money, but also after Felicity. Someone hired him to go after her. How will she and her team handle this new threat? And the even bigger question; who is after her and why? https://archiveofourown.org/works/5365172/chapters/12390371

Time for a Story multi-chapter WIP by @smkkbert - This fic shows Olicity and their life as a (married) couple with family. Although Olicity (and their kids) are the protagonists, other characters of Arrow and Flash make appearances. YOU NEED THIS STORY IN YOUR LIFE. https://archiveofourown.org/works/3912157/chapters/8757172

Let it Out by @laxit21 - Let’s pretend that Arrow ended after Oliver was acquitted in 6x21. The Lizard and everyone connected to him all died or were erased from existence, including Black Siren. This is sad. You’ve been warned. After an unexpected tragedy, Oliver and Felicity say goodbye to someone important to both of them. https://laxit21.tumblr.com/post/184626020474/let-it-out

Conspiracy by @felicityollies - (prompt) Slade conspires with Thea of all people to get Oliver and Felicity to break their "let's take it one step at a time rule" by putting them in a situation for Oliver to propose to her again. https://archiveofourown.org/works/11915487

Blast from the Past by @felicityollies - Set in season two - Oliver’s ex comes to visit him, but has to stop by executive assistant Felicity first. https://archiveofourown.org/works/11921649

Unasked Questions by @laurabelle2930 - This one takes place during 3x20. It’s my take on what happened before we see Oliver staring out over the moon lit sands of Nanda Parbat. Warning: It’s smutty... https://archiveofourown.org/works/11927979

Want vs Need by @felicityollies - Felicity knows the difference between want versus need, but she can’t seem to let go of a beautiful jacket she saw in a department store window. She goes as far as to steal it right off the rack. A kind stranger, that happens to be the city’s mayor, steps in when she gets caught. (prompt) https://archiveofourown.org/works/11940456

Every Piece of You multi-chapter WIP by @bowsmoakandarrow - If anyone had told Felicity Smoak that she'd be a single mother right out of MIT, she would have laughed in your face. https://archiveofourown.org/works/11554779/chapters/25950957

I Do Believe In Magic by @smoakmonster - AU 5x09 flashback, in which present day Oliver Queen actually time-travels back for a short visit to see Felicity in 2012, before she became his partner, before he’s supposed to be in love with her. https://archiveofourown.org/works/2588447/chapters/20369764

Is it Too Much to Ask? (It Probably is) by @laureningall - Written for the Olicity Hiatus Fic-A-Thon prompt "Ask" Felicity knows that Oliver would do just about anything she asked of him. But what about something that was pretty silly. It was silly really, what was bothering her. Felicity works to track down a long lost team mate for some help with her unusual request. https://archiveofourown.org/works/11921043

Something Old and Someone New by CaptainBrieOnToast - Felicity decides to make a pretty drastic lifestyle change her Senior Year of high school, at first no one notices, but then some does. https://archiveofourown.org/works/11944593

You're thinking too LOUD by sssssssim - Once upon a time, metaphoricalanchor posted this thing: AU prompt: Person A is thinking sexually graphic or generally odd thoughts and suddenly panics and thinks “If you’re a mind reader, cough right now.” Person B coughs. Then, wittyfelicity had a party in the tags: #IMAGINE THIS ABOUT OLIVER AND FELICITY#LIKE FELICITY IS HAVING A DAYDREAM AND THEN HER THOUGHTS START TO GET REALLY GRAPHIC AND OLIVER PRACTICALLY CHOKES WHEN SHE SUDDENLY THINKS#THAT#CAN YOU IMAGINE THIS THOUGH#SOMEONE NEEDS TO WRITE IT ... I took it upon myself to write the thing. Smut. THING. https://archiveofourown.org/works/1414105/chapters/5204288

The Only Way to Know is to Ask by @cruzrogue - Felicity and Oliver have been living in their new home for roughly a month and after Oliver's run he meets one person that Felicity has conversed with during his outing. But they aren't the new neighbors... https://archiveofourown.org/works/11951745

Olicity One-Shot: The Rage Phase by @entersomethingcleverhere - Newsroom AU — Felicity might have been the face of Atlantic Cable News’ financial analysis, but when an ex-boyfriend takes revenge on her for breaking up with him, he tries to ruin it all for her. Oliver’s the only one she can turn to to help her get off the floor and fight back. https://entersomethingcleverhere.tumblr.com/post/164841890517/olicity-one-shot-the-rage-phase

The Fan multi-chapter WIP by @leuska - For the past couple of months, Felicity Smoak, previous child star known to the world through her alter ego Lisy the Tech Whiz, who ended her career and her growing popularity at the age of thirteen rather abruptly, has sporadically received disturbing notes and gifts in her mail. Police believe the notes to be just little tokens of appreciation by a former fan. Despite having left the spotlight over a decade ago and living in anonymity since, the fan mail keeps coming, increasing in frequency as well as intensity. Thelast drop is when Felicity receives another letter with a love note. A scary, ominous note. A note written in human blood.FBI director Amanda Waller tasks her best Agent to the case. Oliver Queen, a criminal profiler, is currently working on a special task force formed between SCPD and FBI to catch a man dubbed the Start City Slasher, who has murdered at least three young women in the past nine months. Agent Queen is not thrilled with the prospect of holding a former princess’ hand through her problem with a simple stalker while a serial killer is still at large. However, once meeting her, Oliver finds there is nothing easy or simple about Felicity Smoak as their worlds start to intertwine. https://archiveofourown.org/works/17726573/chapters/41820368

Did You Pack Enough? by @christinabeggs - Felicity preparing for trip with the two most important men in her life. https://archiveofourown.org/works/11955036

Ghost by @felicityollies - Olicity + "I'm sorry I didn't say it sooner. I love you Felicity. " post 3x09 angst https://archiveofourown.org/works/6610375/chapters/27070692

Mission Impossible by @felicityollies - Felicity gets kidnapped during an undercover OTA mission https://archiveofourown.org/works/6610375/chapters/27072189

Choose Me by @felicityollies - prompt: choose - Felicity begs Oliver not to continue his daredevil lifestyle. She wishes he would give up his street racing and choose her, but he’s adamant that his racing is for her. https://archiveofourown.org/works/11034534/chapters/27176745

Choose by @wetsuiton - dialogue fic, prompt choose https://archiveofourown.org/works/11084547/chapters/27178335#main

Our Once Barren World Now Brims with Life by @overwatchandarrow - Felicity is worried Willaim won't like her. Oliver wholeheartedly disagrees. https://archiveofourown.org/works/12018810

Five Times Felicity Finds the Ring multi-chapter Complete by @anthfan - Five part series. Each chapter shows a different way Felicity finds out about the ring in the bowl. Chapters are standalone. https://archiveofourown.org/works/5184392/chapters/11944589

The Voyage to You multi-chapter WIP by @obibalwin - Felicity Smoak didn’t want a complicated life. She enjoyed helping people as a nurse at Starling City General Hospital and spending time with her best friend Sara. When a John Doe arrives on the fifth floor of thehospital, she finds herself being dragged into a world of mysterious oaths and visions. The only thing she can hope is to stay strong enough to resist the man who has traveled to find her. https://archiveofourown.org/works/16596788/chapters/38895977

I Can't Let Her Die multi-chapter WIP by @originalhybridloverfics - Future Oliver seeks present day Oliver help to save Felicity. Chapter 1 https://originalhybridloverfics.tumblr.com/post/183625037894/i-cant-let-her-die Chapter 2 https://originalhybridloverfics.tumblr.com/post/184191980224/i-cant-let-her-die-ch2 Chapter 3 https://originalhybridloverfics.tumblr.com/post/184665869079/i-cant-let-her-die-ch3

Forget Me Not multi-chapter WIP by @mindramblingsfics - Felicity was presumed dead after The Gambit was shipwrecked and she went missing. As the one year anniversary of her death approaches, a miracle happens and she is found. Just when Oliver thinks the universe has given them a second chance, he learns Felicity barely remembers him and the memories of their love together are gone entirely. Oliver and Felicity’s journey after they reunite prove to be a tough road ahead, and then they learn that Felicity’s accident may have had a more sinister motive behind it. https://archiveofourown.org/works/18392291/chapters/43556987

Providence multi-chapter WIP by @so-caffeinated - Will Queen has struggled in silence in the year since he was shot. But when a shadowy crime lord known as Domino targets the only woman Will’s ever truly loved, fate forces him to confront his demons in ways he never could have imagined… Whether he wants to or not. Amelia Prescott has fought to take control of her life since learning two years ago that her personal and professional worlds were manipulated by others. But nothing can prepare her for just how hard she'll have to fight to set her own course, especially when her heart belongs to a damaged man and a crime lord threatens her every professional move... And her life. Destiny brings them together, but as chaos reigns and personal demons haunt Will and Amelia both, it may also threaten to tear them apart. https://archiveofourown.org/works/17919056/chapters/42308753

Hard To Find Love multi-chapter WIP by Mellowyellowdiamonds - Through a tragic twist of fate Felicity finds herself left with an orphaned young William Clayton. Keeping her promise to her friend, Felicity raises William diligently, loving him as if he were her own child, only to have Moira Queen storm into their lives several years later demanding custody of her grandson. Locked in a war with Moira Queen, things get complicated when Felicity finds herself developing unwanted feelings for William's biological father, Oliver Queen. At the same time she must try to manage her meddling 13 year old son, who has it in his head that if Felicity would just cooperate and fall for his father, everything would be right in the world. https://archiveofourown.org/works/15941786/chapters/37173917

Ivy Town to Star City by @geneshaven - Oliver's thoughts as he and Felicity take the limo from Ivy Town to Star City https://geneshaven.tumblr.com/post/184709636599/ivy-town-to-star-city

Pieces of Always multi-chapter WIP by @so-caffeinated and @dust2dust34 - Life continues after Forever is Composed of Nows. Ongoing non-linear collection of family moments for the Queens. http://archiveofourown.org/works/8220479/chapters/18840356

Our Version of Events multi-chapter WIP by @machawicket and @geneeste - Action star Ollie Queen is trying to clean up his image and land parts that require him to do more than appear shirtless while fighting stuntmen. Pop star Felicity Smoak wants to be seen as an adult in time for the release of her new, grittier album. And talent manager John Diggle’s got an idea about what coverage of Oliver and Felicity’s brand new (and totally fake) romance could do for them both. http://archiveofourown.org/works/8025382/chapters/18375349

Thank God You're Alive by @alexiablackbriar13 - that olicity reunion scene in 7x21, slightly re-vamped with more hugs and kisses and concern because c'mon arrow... https://archiveofourown.org/works/18749404

P.S. Hong Kong: Was it Real?!? multi-chapter WIP by @cruzrogue for Olicity trope-tastic award: Fake Marriage - This is off season 3 Flashbacks. When Tommy goes to Hong Kong he doesn’t go alone he takes his friend Felicity as the best information system being to help him locate Oliver Queen. Tommy may leave empty handed but Felicity gets to be a bride… https://archiveofourown.org/works/15025697/chapters/34832747

// @emmaamelia95 // @mel-loves-all // @oliverfel4 // @green-arrows-of-karamel // @coal000 // @miriam1779 // @memcjo// @captainolicitysbedroom // @tdgal1 // @spaztronautwriter // @lalawo1// @quiveringbunny // @wrongshipper // @thebookjumper // @vaelisamaza // @myhauntedblacksoul // @lovelycssefan // @laurabelle2930 // @laxit21 //

[dimplekyu-archive]

Catch U (Yoon Jisung x Reader) Part 2

Genre: Fluff, College/University!AU, Coffee Shop/Cafe!AU, gender neutral

Word count: 3,154

Warnings: none

Crossposted on AO3 here

Read Part 1 here

Chapter description: You and Jisung meet again over a cup of hot chocolate, but maybe not in the way you would think.

When you met him again in winter, you had honestly given up on ever seeing him again. To him, you thought, meeting you must have just been a fleeting fall moment, a distraction to pass the time. It had been months, and you thought that he probably wouldn’t remember you if you met him now, or that he would but that he wouldn’t remember it with the same dearness you did. To you, the chances of that being the case almost made it better not to see him again, to leave that encounter and that person as a bright spot in your memory, and nothing more.

You had kept the leaf, though, laminating it in the school’s machine so that it wouldn’t fall apart. You told yourself it wasn’t because it was the only evidence you had that that day even happened, but because there was a chance that because he gave the leaf to you, the leaf would grant you happiness the next year anyway, even if that was not how the saying went originally. And it wasn’t like you carried it around or anything like a picture of a long lost sibling. It was just in your drawer in your dorm room. You thought by putting it there you would forget about it, but even though it was now mid-January, you thought of that day often. You had friends, it wasn’t like the interaction was special because you didn’t interact with many people. It was just…there was something about him. You didn’t know what it was, but you wanted to see him again and figure it out.

You also knew that this was a bit ridiculous. It didn’t stop you from spontaneously remembering that day every so often, however, but you were sure that would fade after a few more months, and you would forget him just like he and probably forgotten you. Perhaps if you left the leaf in your drawer, at the end of the year when you were going through your belongings, you would pull it out and look at it wonderingly, not remembering how you acquired it. Perhaps you would remember that someone gave it to you, but not who, or when, or why you kept it. For some reason, the thought of that made you a little sad, and you weren’t sure why.

Late January was the snowiest part of the year where your university was located, but it wasn’t terribly cold, and you liked snow, so it was one of your favorite parts of the year, although you hadn’t seen the spring here yet, so you couldn’t say it was actually your favorite for sure.

Classes had ended for the day, so you began your trek back to your dormitory, shuffling through the snow that came up around your ankles. It had been snowing all day, and the sidewalks hadn’t been cleared since that morning, so it took a bit more effort than you would have liked to make it back to your dormitory, and although it wasn’t terribly cold to go for a short walk, the campus was fairly large and by the time you came to the square of dormitories where yours was located, the tips of your fingers, toes, nose, and ears were all either numb or stinging. Luckily, between your square of dormitories and the next, there was a coffee shop. Eager to hasten the process of warming back up, you headed there.

You swung open the door and were greeted with the soft tinkle of a bell, a rush of lovely warm air, and the smell of freshly-brewed drinks. You smiled in contentment, stepping inside, stamping off the snow from your boots on the entry carpet, removing your gloves and stuffing those in your coat pocket, which you then removed along with your scarf, hanging them up on the hooks by the door before walking over to the counter.

Even though this coffee shop was located close to your dorm, you had never actually been here before. You didn’t really drink coffee, and you kept the cold drinks you liked in your mini fridge so that you weren’t tempted to spend unnecessary money. Normally, you weren’t a big fan of hot drinks besides the tea you could make in your own dormitory, but all this snow and cold had given you an odd craving for hot chocolate, and you had never warmed up to the kind you could make out of a packet.

You scanned the shop’s menu, finding, to your pleasant surprise, a mini-menu composed of just different types of hot chocolate. There was caramel hot chocolate, dark chocolate hot chocolate, milk chocolate hot chocolate, marshmallow swirl hot chocolate, hazelnut hot chocolate…the list went on for longer than you would have expected it to. But then again, you figured enough people came here for hot chocolate for it to be popular enough to deserve a menu of its own.

“Are you ready to order?”

You were snapped out of your hot chocolate-inspired revelry by the voice of the barista working the counter. “Sorry for startling you, first time here? The drink options can be kind of overwhelming if you haven’t been here before. Can I help you choose?”

“Ah, yeah,” your words stumble out. “Which hot chocolate flavor would you recommend? There’s so many…”

The barista chuckles. “Don’t worry, you’re actually the fifth person to ask me that this shift. And which is the best actually depends on who’s making the coffee. Right now, that would be Jisung. I’d say the one he makes the best is the marshmallow swirl hot chocolate, so I’d recommend that one.”

You smile at the barista’s method of recommending drinks. “And which one do you make best then..” You look down at the barista’s name tag. “Sungwoon?”

Sungwoon laughs loudly at your question, obviously surprised. “No one’s ever asked me that before. There’s a reason I work the counter unless there’s no one else to make the drinks, I’m not that great at it.” You look at him expectantly, still wanting an answer to your question. Sungwoon stares back, but breaks first in your little staring contest. “Fine. If you must know, I make a mean hazelnut hot chocolate. If you’re really that curious, you should come back on a Sunday morning. It’s the only regularly scheduled time they let me anywhere near the drinks,” the barista says jokingly. “So what’ll it be then? Sorry, but you’ll have to settle for Jisung’s hot chocolate instead of mine, since he’s making the drinks right now.”

You look back up at the menu, and are overwhelmed once again by the unusually long list, and although you already forgot which type Sungwoon said the guy in the kitchen made best, you just smiled at him over the counter, replying with a “Then I’ll take what you recommended.”

“Good choice!” Sungwoon exclaims with a wink, ringing your order up in the cash register, then looking back at you. You pay, and Sungwoon asks you if you would like it for here or to go. While you were originally planning on getting the drink and returning to your room, this place is nice and warm, has relaxing music, a charming atmosphere, and a perfect view of the gently falling snow. “For here, please,” you reply with a smile.

“Alrighty!” Sungwoon exclaims. “We’ll bring it out to you when it’s ready. For now, just find a place to sit, okay?”

“Okay,” you reply, going to sit down by the window.

As you look outside at the falling snow, you are hit suddenly with memories of that day again, the leaves falling around you like snow, swirling in the breeze. A voice calling out to you, you turning around, and then seeing Him. You didn’t believe in love at first sight (after all, love is built on communication, how two personalities interact, and the way people interact with each other, not seeing someone), but you had to admit that moment was like something from a cheesy movie.

And him. It’s not like he was particularly stunning, at least not in a conventional way, but the way his eyes wrinkled when he smiled at you, and the way he helped you after realizing he had caused you to miss your leaf, did tug at your heartstrings a bit, you had to admit that. And it’s not like you would ever see him again (after all, there were thousands of people on this campus), but if you did, or had you met under different circumstances, you would have to admit that he was at least kind of your type, and that you would have given him a chance had he asked you out on a date.

You rest your chin on your palm, staring out at the snow with a sigh. You were becoming hopelessly romantic again. The sort of stuff you were hoping for didn’t happen in real life. People didn’t hear bells when they saw the person they would spend their life with for the first time. Soulmates didn’t exist. If you were hoping for a fairy-tale romance, you weren’t going to get it. While you had heard stories of people who said that their love was like one out of a story, those were the absolute few-and-far-between, exceptions to the rule in a reality where love didn’t always work out, and people ended up being different than you expected them to be. Who knows, you thought to yourself, that guy could be a real douche-bag for all I know. He could be a thief, or anything really. You were with him for literally like half an hour. Let it go. Why won’t you?

“You’re the one that ordered the hot chocolate, right?”

You’re brought to the present by the question. By the blurry reflection in the window, you can tell the person is wearing the coffee shop’s uniform, and is here to bring you your order. You turn around to say that yes, you were indeed the one who ordered the hot chocolate, but the words were taken out of your mouth by the sight before you.

It was him.

You looked at him in wonder, thinking for a brief second that you were in some odd continuation of your daydream before dismissing that as ridiculous. But this was definitely him, the guy from the forest that day. While he had been smiling at you before you turned around, after a second his expression began to match yours. You could see the recognition light up his eyes, his mouth slightly agape like yours. Neither of you said anything for a few seconds, then the guy opened his mouth to say something.

Before he could voice whatever he was going to say, and before you could even identify what seeing him again even made you feel, he must have taken his attention away from the drink on the tray balanced in his hand, because it began to tip. Admittedly, you had forgotten about it too, but you weren’t the one holding a hot drink. You watched, almost in slow motion, and the center of balance on the tray tilted too far toward you, and as the hot chocolate tipped over the edge of the tray. The guy saw it too, because he reached out to try to catch it, horror crossing his features, but it was too late. Instead, the hot chocolate spilled all over you, the cup landing in your lap.

You shot up immediately, the mug smashing against the floor, as you tried to get the hot liquid off of you. Letting out a string of oh nos, the guy ran toward the back, presumably to get help or towels or something, leaving you trying to pull your jeans and shirt as far away from your skin as possible, the hot chocolate burning your skin. The boy quickly returned with both Sungwoon and towels and a bucket of water. He frantically dipped the towels in what you could now see was ice water, handing them to you first before pressing some against your legs. The towels felt great on your skin, counteracting the burning hot drink that had been spilled on you. After a few minutes of this, you started feeling normal again, albeit very wet, both from hot chocolate and water.

Sungwoon and the guy who spilled said hot chocolate on you were still fussing over trying to keep you from getting burned, however. “I think I’m okay now,” you muttered, causing the two guys to look up at you from their places on the floor. “Are you sure?” Sungwoon asked worriedly, while the other frantically apologized at the same time. “Yeah, I’m okay,” you replied, “It doesn’t feel hot anymore. I’m just wet,” you say with a soft laugh. It doesn’t seem to help assuage leaf boy’s fears however, as he keeps apologizing. “No, really, it’s okay, mistakes happen,” you try to assure him, but he is not buying it. “You could have been seriously burned! I’m such an idiot! Sungwoon always said to hold the tray with both hands…”

Sungwoon’s gaze immediately turned to the other with piercing intensity. “You weren’t holding the tray with both hands?” When he doesn’t get a reply, he becomes even angrier. “Jisung! Really? This is a coffee shop, not an Italian restaurant!”

So that was his name. Jisung.

“…Right? Hey, are you sure you’re okay?”

You realize you had just missed something Sungwoon said. “What?”

“I said you can’t walk back to your dorm like this! It’s crazy cold outside! You’ll freeze to death if you go outside soaking wet!” He glares at Jisung. “How are we supposed to dry her off, huh?”

You don’t really want to get involved in this fight. “No…really…it’s okay, my dorm is just over there, it’s fine if I walk…”

“No it’s not,” Jisung breaks in. “I might not be able to lend you any pants, but you can at least borrow my hoodie I wore to work. I promise it doesn’t smell bad or anything, and it’s better than walking back in a wet shirt.”

He has a point.

“Is it really okay…?” You ask cautiously. “Won’t you be cold instead?”

Jisung waves his hands in a dismissive gesture. “No, no, no, I have a coat too, it’ll be fine. Please, just take it? I can’t let you walk back like this.” He looks really upset, and is making a pouty face that makes you almost feel like you were the one who spilled coffee on him. Honestly, you’d do almost anything to get him to stop making that face.

“Okay, I guess that’s fine…” You trail off, and Jisung stands up. “Okay then, I’ll take you back to the employee area where you can change.”

You follow Jisung to the back, where he unlocks one of the lockers, pulling out a pink sweatshirt and handing it over to you. “I’m gonna go clean up that mess, you can change into this, just come out when you’re done.” He turns to leave, but then stops and turns back to you. “And, um, you can leave your shirt there,” he says, pointing to a chair. “I’ll wash it and give it back to you.” He doesn’t give you time to protest, leaving the room and shutting the door behind him.

Now that you’re alone, the events of the past fifteen minutes start to sink in, and you can’t help but let out a “What even just happened…” Deciding you don’t have time to process it all right now, you take your wet, coffee-stained shirt off and put Jisung’s pink sweatshirt on. It’s surprisingly soft, and smells like lavender fabric softener. Well, it’s clean, you think to yourself, stepping out of the employee area and back into the main area where you are met with both Jisung and Sungwoon looking at you. Pink dusts Jisung’s cheeks, but you aren’t sure whether it comes from the embarrassment of recent events, the exertion of running across the restaurant, or something else. Maybe it’s because you’re wearing his sweatshirt, an unknown part of your mind whispers to you. You immediately squash the thought, not even sure why you would think that.

You start edging toward the door when Jisung walks up to you. “It’s the end of my shift. Can I walk you back to your room?” You hesitate, not sure what to make of that proposition. “I mean, I just feel really bad, and what if something else happened to you and you got hurt or something? I just want to make sure you get back safe.”

You don’t see any harm in that, so you reluctantly agree. After you have both put on your winter gear, Jisung having retrieved his backpack from the employee room, you both step out into the cold. Jisung, true to his word, follows you back to your dorm. “I live on the fourth floor,” you say once you get to the dorm, and Jisung simply nods.

You walk down the hallway until you reach your room, turning to Jisung. “Well, this is it… Have a good night,” you say, unlocking your door and beginning to step inside, not even thinking of asking the boy you’d been thinking about for months for contact info or even his last name. Luckily, Jisung thinks to, if only for practical reasons. “Wait,” he calls out. “Can I have your phone number?”

You being you, for some reason think this is some kind of flirtation, and blush. “So I can return your shirt to you,” Jisung clarifies, seeing you turn slightly red. “Oh,” you say stupidly. You give him your phone number, then bid him goodnight again. “Thanks for lending me your sweatshirt.”

Jisung blushes again. “No, it’s my fault, I;m the one who spilled hot chocolate all over you, remember?”

“Please don’t keep worrying about that. I’m fine, mistakes happen, and you’ve done more than enough.”

Jisung lets out a sigh. “Okay. I was afraid you’d be angry. Well, I guess I should go…”

“Okay,” you reply awkwardly. “Be careful getting back to your room.”

“Yeah,” Jisung replies, similarly awkwardly. “I will. Have a good night.”

“You too.” You close the door to your room, just standing there for a minute to collect your thoughts. You hadn’t expected to meet him again, and especially not this way. Honestly, you weren’t sure what to make of it. You got ready for bed, putting Jisung’s sweater on top of the dirty clothes to be washed, brushing your teeth and changing into pajamas.

Later that night, as you were about to drift off to sleep, it hit you that in order for Jisung to return your shirt to you, and for you to return his sweater, you would certainly have to meet again.

When you fall asleep, it is with a smile on the edges of your lips.

Author notes: Wow, this chapter was a lot longer than the first. I hope you liked this chapter, and if you did please leave me an ask or a reply to this post, it really helps keep me writing. :)

[scripturehomosexuality]

Addendum To Aaron Hernandez Story

This post is intended as a followup to the post “Aaron Hernandez: A Case Study About What’s Wrong With Modern Society”, which was originally published on May 7th 2017. As such, a link to the content here will be added to that post as a post scriptum.

To understand what will follow, I strongly recommend that you read the abovementioned post first.

There have been many developments on the Aaron Hernandez story. As such, they confirm the blog’s main assertions:

The story of Mr. Hernandez poses a big risk to modern sexual philosophy and the “Straight”-”Gay” dichotomy, and threatens to completely collapse both

Numerous authorities within the dichotomy (“gay” and “straight” media, LGBT leadership, etc) are well aware of the first bullet point, and as such are trying to bury the story

Firstly, after the first Outsports article on Aaron Hernandez, all media did as the article asked, and basically stopped discussion on the matter. In doing so, they were expecting (and subtly ordering) their audiences to do the same.

This is a prime example of how modern sexual philosophy works to defend itself, and how a society facilitates that defense mechanism. In this case, the strategy went as follows:

”Gay” leadership and media signal that they don’t want to discuss the case

Within the dichotomy, the “gay” side is given total authority over discussion on same-sex activity. Thus, if the “gay” side doesn’t want to discuss it, the “straight” side has no reason to discuss it either. Thus, the Outsports article was used as a pretext to decrease coverage on the “straight” side.

Both sides keep completely mum on the case, and as a result, it’s kept somewhat in the dark

Similar strategies were used with the “g0y” movement and Man2Man Alliance, where the “gay” media castigated and ignored them, and the “straight” media followed their lead in not covering them. In this way, anything that threatens the status quo is neutralized.

Let me be clear, and you probably realize the following too: for a media that thrives on speculation, this is highly unusual. Both “gay” and “straight” media usually feast on speculation on whether some celebrity is “gay”. Yet, when so much suggests that Aaron Hernandez was into guys too, they leave all forward movement on the case to the family. In doing so, they claim that it’s out of sensitivity for the family, but that’s only a front. They’ve been far less merciful with celebrities like Cristiano Ronaldo and Aaron Rodgers, who also have families.

The real reason is that, if the Aaron Hernandez case is explored enough, it would soon become evident that modern sexual philosophy is COMPLETELY WRONG. It would completely destroy a philosophy that so much of U.S. society hinges on. It would turn U.S. society upside-down in a way they don’t want.

As such, I hope my LGBT-identified readers are taking note of their leadership and media. They only care for sexual behavior that supports the fundamental message of modern sexual philosophy - that same-sex eroticism is inherently abnormal and aberrant. If the behavior doesn’t do that, the LGBT movement wants nothing to do with it.

Yet, their efforts have only been moderately successful so far. Public interest in the story is still so high, the media has had no choice but to report trickles of it, and acknowledge developments in the story.

For example, Shayanna Jenkins-Hernandez (Mr. Hernandez’ fiancee) did an interview on “Dr. Phil” during May 2017. During that interview, she flatly denied all rumors that he was “gay”, and said further that he was “very much a man”. It was revealed that she first became aware of the rumors during Mr. Hernandez’ trial, when his defense team let her know. She also revealed that Mr. Hernandez and herself spoke about the topic several times, and each time, he completely denied he was “gay”.

First of all, I wish to say that Mr. Hernandez was telling the truth. Remember what was said here about the word “gay” - that it’s a word that marries same-sex activity with a “gay” culture of anal play, drag, and gender-atypical behavior. Meanwhile, while it’s likely that Mr. Hernandez was bisexual in his behavior, it’s very clear that he also roundly rejected the LGBT identity. Given the complicated meaning the word “gay” has, he was perfectly justified in saying that he wasn’t “gay”.

However, there was also something conspicuously absent from the interview. It was something that would put all gossip to bed - the suicide letters. Where were the suicide letters? To prove her point, why didn’t Ms. Jenkins-Hernandez cite them as proof that he wasn’t “gay”? Especially since they’re now in her possession in their unredacted form, and since she has most likely read them by now? Those suicide letters were testimony from the man himself on who he was, yet during such a key moment, they’re nowhere in sight.

There’s only one reason why they were absent: they would somewhat undermine the statements of Ms. Jenkins-Hernandez, and she knows that. Don’t be fooled. It’s true that he wasn’t “gay”. However, that doesn’t mean that he didn’t sexually interact with other guys. Indeed, the sports world contains a highly homoerotic culture, where its players can eroticially interact with each other without any “gay” spectre. From all appearances, Mr. Hernandez immersed himself completely within that culture, and enjoyed it immensely.

Thus, and to the contrary, their unignorable absence actually confirms a conclusion made in the first post: the most problematic aspect of those letters are their content. Furthermore, it also confirms that such content is definitely homoerotic in nature, and would make clear that he sexually interacted with other guys. That’s the only way those suicide notes, the biggest “smoking guns” that would end all speculation at once, are absent when they’re most valuable.

In this, I don’t fault Ms. Jenkins-Hernandez. Modern sexual philosophy works to preserve itself, and will sacrifice anything to do so. Meanwhile, the Hernandez family is doing everything to save Mr. Hernandez from being painted as “gay”, or even having that suggested about him. Certain parties would use them as justification for calling him that, even if closer inspection would reveal a more nuanced story. Thus, I understand why they might still be sheepish about revealing the letters.

Other developments in the month of May further confirm this blog’s conclusions. To pacify public interest in the case, the Boston Globe filed a FOIL (Freedom of Information Law) request for other prison correspondence from Mr. Hernandez. Those letters were then circulated across the media world, and are available for your viewing in this link.

As a side note, the Globe could do this because all of Mr. Hernandez’ correspondence is now public record, including the suicide notes. This is because they are currently being held by local authorities, and by virtue of that, they now belong to the public. Any news organization can obtain them at any time through a FOIL request. Thus, the relative silence on the story isn’t for lack of resources; it’s because they don’t want to do the work. As said before, the coverage blackout is being done on purpose. But I digress.

Anyway, the letters reveal that Mr. Hernandez had very friendly relationships with his other cellmates. The first four contain Mr. Hernandez repeatedly asking (and at one point pleading) to be placed in a certain cell block. That cell block contained men that he knew previously, and at least one man who he considered a “brother” and his “heart”. The last letter in the link attached has Mr. Hernandez addressing “false gossip” that was circulating around the prison, while making the same request to be placed in that certain cell block.

In the letters, there are several redactions made. All of the names mentioned are redacted, which admittedly is common practice, and is firmly within the bounds of FOIL law in general. However, there is one redaction made which, in my opinion, is a little odd. The last letter listed contained the following sentences, as Mr. Hernandez is addressing false gossip: “I have been hearing from many or rather few thinking that I’m ‘[redacted]’. But that is false. People are always coming up with things that are incorrect.”

Given the developments of the past few weeks, and the immediate context of the other attached letters, the redacted word is most likely the word “gay”.

At this point, I’m wondering on what legal grounds this redaction was done. From what I can tell, the closest exception that would qualify would be on grounds of privacy. According to the Massachusetts FOIL law, certain personal details can be redacted “which may constitute an unwarranted invasion of personal privacy”. As such, the decision to redact “requires a balancing between the seriousness of any invasion of privacy and the public right to know”. As such, in practice enforcement leans toward non-disclosure.

However, I can’t see how disclosure of the described action - dismissing “gay” rumors - necessarily counts as an invasion of privacy. Within the context of the letter, it only confirms what we already know about Mr. Hernandez, and the rumors that consistently dogged him. The fact that a person is fighting “gay” rumors usually isn’t state secret.

In the end, I don’t know exactly which party influenced that particular redaction. All I know is that it was effective in further obscuring the Hernandez story. Within the letter that redacted word didn’t reveal much. However, in combination with the other released letters, along with the likely content of the unreleased suicide letters, it reveals so much more. All of that correspondence reveals a man who was shamelessly close to men - to the point of calling another man his “heart” - yet flatly denies identifying as “gay” or LGBT. From this, two conclusions present themselves that subvert modern sexual philosophy:

Same-sex activity and the LGBT identity and culture are not (and need not be) intrinsically linked

Same-sex activity is not an exclusively “gay” phenomenon

There’s one more factor to consider. Remember that Mr. Hernandez was one of the top football players in the NFL. This is very important because in U.S. culture, male athletes are considered the greatest fulfillments of masculinity. If these “alpha males” are revealed to be constantly having sex with other men (and each other), it completely undermines the fundamental message of modern sexual philosophy: that same-sex activity is inherently abnormal and aberrant.

As such, if the redacted word was released, I hardly think Mr. Hernandez’ privacy would be harmed. It would be much more harmful to modern sexual philosophy, the parties that rely on it for power, and the various social infrastructures that depend on it.

If this seems confusing to you, keep in mind that many parties directly depend on the “Straight”-”Gay” dichotomy (the highest fulfillment of modern sexual philosophy) for their power, including:

The Christian churches and their clergy, whose condemnation of homosexuality depends on most parishioners believing that they are truly “straight”.

Ex-”gay” ministries, for obvious reasons

Politicians who receive support from the clergy and devout Christian populations.

Various companies benefiting from messages that being “straight” (and thus being gender-conforming) requires purchase of certain commercial goods.

The “gay” leadership, whose authority depends on the idea that people attracted to the same sex are a small and easily identifiable minority, who need their guidance and supervision to survive.

Politicians who receive support from the “gay” leadership

Condom and lube manufacturers, whose bottom line is helped by the cultural practice of anal play

The medical-industrial complex, who sell drugs treating injuries and diseases caused by anal play

The parties involved constitute huge parts of U.S. society, which is why both “straight” and “gay” media are distinctly uninterested in covering the story. The story destabilizes modern sexual philosophy, and by extension, destabilizes their power and salaries.

Indeed, even with the relatively few developments in the case, the “straight” media is trying to keep itself far away from it. Meanwhile, following the edict of the Outsports article, the “gay” press has been almost silent on the matter. The only item they covered in the last month was the Dr. Phil interview, to convince people that there’s nothing to see here.

However, even with all this posturing and scrambling, they’re actually worse off than they were before. It seems Mr. Hernandez’ friends and family are less willing to cooperate with the coverup. On May 24th, Jonathan Hernandez (Aaron’s older brother) released a cryptic statement saying he wanted to reveal “Aaron’s truth”, to counter “many stories about my brother's life [that] have been shared with the public”. Furthermore, Kyle Kennedy (Mr. Hernandez’ supposed male lover in prison) hasn’t retracted his determination to reveal his side of the story. To that end, in May he renewed his demand that authorities give him the suicide note that was reportedly meant for him.

It’s clear that “the powers that be” of the dichotomy are in deep trouble. The Hernandez story is difficult, if not impossible, to frame in a way that supports modern sexual philosophy. Every move the media makes shows that they’re trying to hide something, and seems to arouse more interest in the story. More of Mr. Hernandez’ loved ones seem willing to blab.

Sooner or later, the dichotomy (and the philosophy it represents) will have to be revealed as a fraud, and completely untrue. At this point, it’s not a question of “if”, but “when”.

What’s unknown is what will happen after that. The outcome could go one of two ways.

After it is revealed to be a fraud, modern sexual philosophy is thrown out completely. U.S. society is turned completely upside down, as a more accurate way to describe sexuality is sought. This is the outcome I personally want.

After it is revealed to be a fraud, enforcement of modern sexual philosophy is made even more stringent. In sheer defiance, its authorities will insist upon people adhering to the dichotomy it produces, and will double down on enforcing its rules and labels.

Remember that for all its rigor, the dichotomy is still a rather informal system. There’s no law requiring people to identify as “straight”, “gay”, “queer”, etc. There’s no secular law requiring people to believe same-sex activity is inherently abnormal. It has power only because so many people believe it to be true. This is why so many societal institutions (like the U.S. education system) are designed to sustain that belief.

However, moves have been made to institutionalize modern sexual philosophy in recent years. Increasingly more college campuses are asking their students which labels they identify with. More governmental agencies are making tallies on how many people identify with which label. This is despite the fact that these labels are under increasing scrutiny by more parties. It should be noted however that such questions are still optional.

When modern sexual philosophy is revealed to be false, such efforts might only intensify in response. Adopting one of its sexual labels might become a mandatory feature of more surveys, but that might not be all. The principles of modern sexual philosophy might become codified in law, and its sexual labels might become as necessary as Social Security identification numbers. As a result, a person will be unable to socially function if they do not believe in modern sexual philosophy, and do not give it support by adopting the labels of its dichotomy. If that seems too totalitarian to be believable, remember that something like the Patriot Act was also once considered unimaginable.

Of course, if the majority don’t believe in it, even that scenario will be impossible.

Thus, if you’re here for the first time, know that there’s nothing tying you to modern sexual philosophy that’s unbreakable. Thus, I urge you to read “The ‘Straight’-’Gay’ Dichotomy: How It Works”, to fully understand how that system functions. I also urge any who read this to go to “For Straight People (though not exclusively)”, which will point to philosophies and forms of same-sex behavior that don’t hinge on demonstratively false concepts. Also read the page “History of the Concept of Homosexuality”, to see how this concept evolved into its modern day meaning. Don’t be afraid of talking about what you learn to others, because that’s the only way progress will be made. Thus, the fissure created by Mr. Hernandez can further grow.

There’s another move you can make that’s important: don’t stop following the Aaron Hernandez story. Don’t be fooled by the “gay” and “straight” press, with their insinuations that there’s nothing to see here. There IS something here, but they just don’t want you to see it, to preserve their own power. Insist on more coverage and analysis. Double down on asking more questions. They can only hide so much, and run so far.

As a last note, I hope that my LGBT-identified readers are noticing how LGBT media and leadership is treating them. There’s no other way to put it: you are being flimflammed and bamboozled by your own media. Your intelligence is being insulted by those who are supposed to be your advocates. They’ve made perfectly clear that they don’t support same-sex activity in all its forms, but only the kinds that support the homophobic message of modern sexual philosophy. This is my question to you - if they are so willing to lie to your face, do they really deserve your unquestioning support?

Make no mistake; this story is far from over. For your own good, stay tuned.

[elliedekk]

Internalized Misogyny, Machado and Le Guinn

Most women when asked if they believe men and women should be equal will respond “yes”. However, a significantly smaller portion of those women will respond “yes” when asked if they consider themselves a feminist. The disparity in the positive response rate between these two questions seems illogical because they are supposed to, by definition, mean the same thing.                                                                                                                                                      Perhaps the difference is due to connotation which accompanies the word “feminist”, and these women fear the association with bra burning, pink hat wearing, Hillary supporting image which is conjured up. I have often heard people attempt to distance themselves from this notion with phrases like “I’m a feminist but not like that” or even “I’m not a feminist; I’m an equalist”. These dilutions echo the same sentiments as “I’m not like other girls”; “I’m like one of the guys” or the idea of a “cool girl”. Internalized misogyny is the mysterious force which causes women to call each other sluts, view each other as competition and invalidate one another’s experiences. Too obvious are the ways that women embrace patriarchal demands of them in order to appeal to misogynistic ideals rather than support their fellow woman. In no way is a preference for societally labeled masculine things anti-feminist. It is the purposeful rejection of what men resent about womanhood in order to appease and gain the acceptance of the patriarchy.  No matter how much a woman adjusts to become more palatable to men, she will always be a woman. It is pointless to attempt to win the admiration of male peers by appearing seemingly above other women. Girls can never rise by stepping on other girls. By disdaining what is regarded as female does not serve to elevate one’s own position, it only oppresses one’s fellow women more. Equally terrible, internalization of sexism foments self-hatred. This self-hatred emerges in the guilt of throwing another woman under the bus, or the subtle pain when one laughs at a chauvinistic joke or the shame of denying enjoying something boys would think is silly. It is the feeling one has hearing the way boys talk about girls behind closed doors, but just because one listens and does not protest will not stop them from talking about her in the same way. Internalized misogyny is understandable. With a patriarchal structure, one cannot expect women to be immune sexist ideas similarly that men are frequently immune to toxic masculinity. The absorption of these messages is a byproduct of existence in an environment that does not celebrate the equality of femininity. From birth, a set of acceptable behaviors are laid out for both men and women. We grow to resent the women who do not follow these behaviors the same way we resent that we must follow them. It is easier to assimilate to patriarchal structures than live in outrage and question every preconceived expectations of our gender. Almost every woman contains at least some lingering relic of the gender-biased structures which decided our development. It is difficult to understand the reasoning behind proclivities to behave a certain to men, women and oneself, and even more difficult to retrain one's own mind. Thusly, when women perpetuate or permit sexism, they fall into the unusual role of being both victim and perpetrator. One way to see the extent of internalization of misogyny is through the lense of fiction. Particularly a story with a female narrator shows both its cognitive manifestation and effects. An essay which best allows for this is “The Husband Stitch” by Carmen Machado.  “The Husband Stitch” tells the story of a woman with a ribbon around her neck. Machado begins as the character meets her future husband and ends with the removal of the ribbon. The main character’s internalization of the patriarchy reveals itself throughout the narrative. She feels a sense of guilt for keeping the ribbon away from her husband despite the fact he has no true entitlement to it. She feels as though she owes everything to him. She defers to the men in her life under the assumption that they must know better than her. “My husband has a list in his mind of things he desires from me, and I am willing to provide them and more” she says describing their relationship. She does not view it as forced. She intersperses in the essay folk tales and urban legends. Despite including many elements of a blissful relationship, a tone of foreboding melancholy permeates even the most joyous events in the story. The eerie atmosphere is facilitated by the myths which speak truths of womanhood through almost paranormal plots. One fable, described as one of her favorites, tells the fate of an old woman who carves a liver out of a dead body to feed to her husband out of fear of his wrath. When the ghost of the dead woman comes to reclaim her liver, the old woman looks down “remembering, now, how she carved into her own belly”. The horrific fate of the woman parallels all too perfectly the main narrative of “The Husband Stitch”. By using extreme and even paranormal examples, the author can spotlight misogyny in situations where it may be more evident. Additionally, tone resembles internalized misogyny itself- a force ever-present and not always seen but sometimes horrifyingly visible. In a climactic moment, the narrator realizes both her husband’s possible cruelty as well as her powerlessness. While under anesthesia but in a semi-conscious state, she witnesses her husband jovially ask the doctor to add a ‘husband stitch’ to his wife. She, however, does nto want this. “Please” she says “But it comes out slurred and twisted and possibly no more than a small mouse. Neither man turns his head towards” her. Having surrendered everything to him, when she finally encounters her limit, she has lost her voice too much to protest. Despite her husband’s many actions which hurt her, she maintains that he is a good man, and she is lucky to have him. The relationship this woman has with her husband, and with herself, exemplifies her internalization of the ways in which she is expected to give up herself to her husband. Not only in the story arch of fiction can patriarchy’s role be seen but also in the very construction of the writing piece. The trope of the strongman protagonist adding drama and dominating any other aspect of a narrative feels inherently patriarchal Ursula K. Le Guinn writes in her essay “The Carrier Bag Theory of Fiction” against the idea of a hero’s journey. She draws from the very origins of humanity when, despite the prevalence of gathering, only the rare stories of violent hunts were passed on. She theorizes that the first invention was not a weapon but a bag. The idea of a carrier bag puts women, the gatherers, at the forefront of human development. Additionally, it rejects that invention stemmed from a propensity to kill. Le Guinn draws a connection to fiction and the common centricity of a valiant protagonist which thrives off of conflict. She supplements the heroic structure with that of a bag full of characters rather than battles. Machado does not conform to a hero structure in “The Husband Stitch”. A reader will struggle to find any hero. Even the narrator, the main character, behaves more like a supplemental character that has things done to her more than she does things. Many feminists attempt resolve the dominance of the hero narrative by supplanting the male protagonist with a female one. They applaud the introduction of woman superheroes and Disney princesses with more agency. However, the feminization of the traditionally male hero fails to address the issue with the narrative itself. These still glorify the identity of a protagonist who uses violence to colonize and destroy. Le Guinn does not distinguish between the gender of the hero, only the structure of the story. In this way, she challenges traditional notions of what deserves to be told and who deserves to be praised. Here we see how misogyny permeates every structure and institution, from marriage to literature and even the minds of the very people it oppresses. As long as the patriarchy remains as all-consuming as presently, sexist ideals of what should be, who should be and how they should act will persist, and, unfortunately, women and girls will internalize these.

[humanoid-lovers]

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