#but there was always the 'unfortunately i'm attracted to men :/' shit

[astraleeriedescence]

settling upon the identity of (transmasc) non-binary lesbian has truly given me so much clarity and comfort it really feels like this is where i've supposed to be all my life

[risuola]

CALL IT DOUBLE TROUBLE — F. READER x GOJO SATORU & GETO SUGURU, who have a habit of sharing everything

It’s been a while since you last saw your college ex-boyfriend Gojo and a Halloween party led to your reconnection. It was cool to see him again, although your break-up was messy. What turned out to be a plot twist, was that he now has a handsome best friend and together, they are deadly.

cw: smut, exes to lovers, strangers to lovers, threesome, double penetration, praise, cum play, oral (f & m receiving), su*cide is mentioned (no description, just brief mention), reader discretion is advised — 6k words

masterlist

a/n: with that post I'm concluding the kinktober - sorry about the delay! work overwhelmed me, it sucked the life out of me, but I'll be getting back to writing now, so stay tuned! also, we hit 1300 followers, so I just want to say thank you so much for being here and reading the shit I post!

You were never that big on parties – you found them mostly annoying with the masses pushing and pulling all around you, drunk assholes that never seem to understand how consent works and even more drunk girls, that throw themselves at anyone slightly attractive. At least that’s how you remember every party you were on during your college years. You experienced firsthand how much effort men can put into chasing a hem of a mini skirt and you also saw in real life, how women were flexing their assets just to get into the pants they want. Unfortunately, usually pants that were in the biggest demand, were coincidentally belonging to your boyfriend. Uh, yeah, maybe that’s why you don’t really like parties.

Dating Satoru Gojo was a blessing, in some parts – he was just lovely to you. He was caring, to some extent, he was sweet-talking you into everything he wanted, and his arrogance always seemed to fly right over your head, but you loved him for longer than he deserved. You trusted him to not sleep with those eagerly spreading girls and he never did. At least that’s what you like to believe. Flirting with them – that was a different story. Satoru was an attention whore, really. He was basking in the gazes glued to him, the salivating mouths were feeding his already enormous ego and he seemed to have the time of his life pulling the strings of those poor, naïve girls that every time believed him when he told them they are just so pretty. His crystalline blue eyes were capable of turning lesbians into straight and straights into gay. The number of suggestive pictures he posed for flooded your social media each time after the parties you attended with him, and not one of those pictures he’s ever taken with you. And then, after leaving the frat houses and clubs, he would tell you how lucky you are to have him, how all of those silly girls were offering him their pussies oh so eagerly. He’d tell you how they envied you. All while he’d fuck you. You spent two years with him, then came the break-up and just as everything that involved Satoru was messy – so was your parting.

You really had no pleasure in partying, after freeing yourself from the toxicity of Gojo, you finally found peace. You flew through college with ease and after it ended, you found yourself quite a nice job – you were okay without attending any kinds of alcohol and loud music related people gatherings. That’s until Shoko called you earlier that month, practically begging you to pay her a visit on Halloween. She was in the city, having her family house all to her disposal due to her family being on a trip somewhere warm. It was a party where all of your college, mutual friends were going to be, a little reconnection if you will and she insisted you show up as well. It really sounded lovely to see where all of your friends landed in lives. With some you still had a regular contact, but some just went their ways and you rarely crossed paths with them, so you agreed to be there. That was a perfect opportunity to catch up and you were excited.

For some unknown reason, not even once you considered Gojo to be there as well. You just kind of pushed the memory of him to the back of your head, you removed him from the picture of your mutual circle of friends and completely you forgot that he’ll most likely be there as well. You realized it when Shoko asked you about him.

“Have you seen Gojo already?”, her tone was quite cautious when she mentioned the name to you, and with the way you looked at her from above your dying cigarette, she spoke again, “You know he’s gonna be there as well, don’t you?”

“Guess I blacked out that possibility,” you mumbled, shrugging softly to shake off the uneasiness of the thought and killing the cig in the sink before throwing it away. “No, I haven’t seen him and I hope it will stay that way.”

“Oh, you’re still wounded after him?”

“No, Sho, I’m not wounded,” you grabbed yourself a red cup from the array on one of the tables in the kitchen. You had no idea what concoction of liquid courage was inside every each of them, but you really couldn’t care less. If that was one of your first parties in years, you were not going to be picky and you trusted Shoko enough to not have death in those cups. “I’m really not. Thing is… I don’t know, it’s been so many years, I’m not really sure what to even tell him. We broke up in a mess that wasn’t addressed ever since, so you know.”

“Yeah, right, I remember the insanity of that action. Gojo was haunting my dreams for two weeks after the suicidal stunt he pulled off.” Ieiri flinched at the memory but laughed right after realizing how stupid all of that was. “He was a drama queen, we have to give him that.”

“See?”

“Well, you’ll most likely see him anyway, so just a hi will be good.”

“Noted.”

She left you to greet someone, and you shook your head, hoping to get rid of the flashbacks, but they were inevitable, you guessed it. Long time after ending things with Gojo you couldn’t find peace after what happened. You think you will forever remember the argument that unraveled after you told him you’re breaking up with him. There was so much screaming, your head pounded with pain for two days straight after that. Nothing more than accusing of the most bizarre shits and poison was spilling from his mouth when, for the first time, Satoru Gojo was informed that someone else is leaving him. Usually, it was him who ended things up, it was him who was cutting the strings and he was too immature back then to come to terms that other people are also entitled to just go away. You remember he went completely feral, almost psychotic as he was laughing at some point, throwing ironic insults at you as if it was gonna make you stay. He had to prove a point that it’s not you who want to leave him. It’s him who want to break up and you just accidentally happened telling him that before he managed to do so. After that, he threatened you that he will kill himself and he made it everybody’s problem – you had to know it, Shoko had to know it and every single one of your friends had to know it as well. You heard from Ieiri that after about three weeks he got back to being his usual arrogant playboy, as if he didn’t just cause drama of the century. He moved on. Traumatized everyone around him, but moved on nonetheless. Now you found the situation kind of funny. You were just kids and you were not meant to be together. That’s just how life works and you wondered sometimes if Satoru learned a little more life after that or did he stay the same.

Sighing again, you took the cup and slipped in between people in the living room, stepping outside to breathe some fresh air on the terrace, thankful that no one was there. Or so you thought and no wonder you almost jumped out of your own skin when you heard a voice right next to you.

“Fire?” He asked, after a moment of watching you search for the lighter in the pockets of your makeshift schoolgirl uniform. The unlit cigarette in your mouth betraying what you were looking for.

His tone was soft, saccharine sweet and calm at the same time and as you looked up at him, it somewhat matched the picture that met your eyes. The man was tall and broad, dressed all in black with dress pants and a hoodie. His sleeves half up, exposing the veiny forearms as he was keeping his lighter visible, ready to give you a hand.

“Yes, please,” you replied finally, leaning into the fire he opened and with relief you take the first breath in. You were not a smoker in your day-to-day life. One pack of cigarettes lasted you a year, but it was Shoko’s influence that today made you poison your lungs more than usual. “Thanks.”

“I’m Suguru. Geto Suguru,” he introduced himself, offering you his palm and you gave it a short squeeze, telling him your own name. You couldn’t find his face in your memories, and you’d like to think that such handsome features would tattoo themselves into your brain in one way or another. He had to come with someone else, you figured. Probably a boyfriend or a husband even. You couldn’t care less about asking. “Enjoying the party?”

“I’m not big on parties, really,” you shrugged, keeping your gaze away from him because hell, he made it so easy to stare with his long luscious, black hair resting over his shoulders and back, half tied up in a little bun just to get them out of his face. You couldn’t tell what his costume was, he had some kind of alternative style going on, slightly rocker vibes with his pierced ears and silver chains hanging from his neck, but it might have as well be his usual style – he looked good in it. He most certainly looked like a big, red flag but hell was the flag attractive.

“I see. Well, I’m not either,” he confessed, huffing out a greyish cloud of smoke out of his lungs and by the smell of it, you could tell it wasn’t nicotine.

“What you’re smoking?”

“Weed, why? Wanna try it?” It was an offer that you should politely say no to, but it was your first and probably last party in a while, so you asked yourself why not and took the joint from his fingers.

“So, you’re here with someone?” you questioned, just to keep the conversation going once you gave him the smoke back. You could feel the unfamiliar but somehow pleasant burn in your lungs after the drag you took and slowly you blew the fume out. Suguru found the view attractive. Sharing a joint with you felt a little more intimate than it should have, the way your lips wrapped around the brownish paper made him wonder how would they look wrapped around something else. Thoughts like this shouldn’t bloom in his head right after he’s met you, not when he’s an adult man, not a stupid kid anymore, but some things couldn’t be stopped.

“Yeah,” he inhaled once more, deeply enough to kill the joint and throw it away. You watched for a moment how he kept the smoke in his lungs, letting it go after a moment. The cloud escaping through his mouth and nose in a soft stream. Fuck, what a gorgeous man. Whoever was the girl that got him had to be lucky. “You know him, he told me about you.”

Oh, never mind.

“He? Ah, fuck, don’t tell me you came here with that idiot,” you reached down for your cup that few moments prior you put on the ground while searching for a lighter.

“Ow, you’re hurting my feelings, sweetheart.”

And there he was. You wondered where that tower of an asshole hid.

Once you look back at Geto, there was also Satoru. He was standing next to his friend slash partner, with his forearm propped over Suguru’s shoulder as he looked at you from above the black glasses, with the very familiar grin painted on his face. Gojo changed a lot since you last saw him. He was now buffier, seemed even taller than you remembered, and his facial features matured – his jaw became more square, eyes a little more lidded and even the smirk on his lips seemed less playboy-ish and more menacingly manly. He lost his princess looks and became a man. You wondered if his character changed as well, because you could still see him using his looks to take what he wanted.

“Oh, do I?” You questioned, eyeing him up and down. His clothes were almost exactly the same as Geto’s – only difference being the light color and the fact his sweatshirt had no hood. What he was wearing completely contrasted to what his friend had on and it made sense if they were here together. Black and white, like yin and yang. You had no idea if they were here as friends or lovers, but either way, you wouldn’t be surprised.

“You sure do,” Satoru shook his head, his smile now more friendly as he approached you, entrapping you in a hug that surely took you by surprise. “It’s good to see you, beautiful.”

“You too,” you guessed, not completely convinced about what you just said but you let it be.

“I’m sorry. I have to say it before you run away from me. I’m really sorry, I was a dick when we were dating,” Gojo’s voice reached your ears directly, but you had a hard time believing what you were hearing. He was never a type to apologize for anything. Please, sorry and thank you is a set of words that you were certain he never used and yet there he was, saying just that. He really evolved. Or he wanted something.

“Yeah, you were. Hope you’re not anymore,” you chuckled softly, brushing your hand over his side.

“I try not to be,” he confessed quietly, pressing a tender kiss to the side of your neck before letting go of you. He shouldn’t have kiss you like that, but the feeling of longing was way stronger than him. Even if for a moment, he had to just have a little taste of you.

Ever since you broke up, Gojo had no idea how much he missed having you in his arms. Up until that night he was okay with some random girls coming into and getting out of his bed with no strings attached. He seemed to be unable to form a lasting relationship after you, you were his first and last girlfriend that he committed to for so long, no matter how poorly. Even if he was nothing but an asshole to you, he often wished to marry you back in the college. Even if he couldn’t possibly show you how much he cared, because his childish behaviors were standing in the way of him reaching your heart properly, he really thought you will be the one and only in his life and even if he seemed to move on so quickly after you broke up with him, it was only for show. A cover up for the thunderstorm that was raging inside his chest, a band aid over the bleeding wound. No other girl was able to even half-fill the emptiness you left in his heart.

You were special to him and it thrilled him to the core when for the first time he heard from Shoko that you agreed to be there, because if it wasn’t for you, he wouldn’t show up as well. His time for partying finished along with his fourth year of college, when he realized there was less and less fun in drinking alcohol and forcing himself into flirting. When it came to you, he had never needed to force himself to do anything. He was just an immature kid when you dated, but he loved the time you gave him.

And now, you were still fitting perfectly into his body. As if he was made from memory foam that still remembered your shape. Now, you were still just as beautiful and breathtaking as he remembered you. In your little, schoolgirl mini skirt, thigh-high socks and a white button up shirt with a loosened tie you looked way sexier than you had a reason to. It’s been quite some time since he was that aroused from just looking at someone and you made him harder than he thought is possible. Fuck, what you were doing to him?

“So, what do you do now? Still living from party to party and from girl to girl?” You asked, taking a sip of your drink. It was strong and it really was better for you to take it in slowly, but there was a certain burn of nervousness tied to meeting your ex that you needed to drown.

“No, it’s in the past,” Satoru replied, inviting you inside, where all three of you found a nice place to sit on one of the couches. You landed between the two men. “I took the lead of my father’s company, Suguru’s my partner in crime. We’re doing good, I don’t party anymore. Honestly, if Shoko didn’t give me a sign that you will be there, I wouldn’t probably step by.”

“Oh, so you came to haunt me,” you joked, earning a soft chuckle from him.

“Yeah, kind of. Couldn’t reach you before and wanted to sort this whole mess out. I’m usually cool with having enemies, but you’re not someone I want to have as enemy.”

You gave his words a soft roll of your eyes. Maybe few years back you’d let yourself be sugarcoated into believing him, but not now. Maybe, just maybe, he matured a little, but some things will never change. Gojo was a flirt, is a flirt and probably will always be a flirt. But hell, was he cute. You cursed his innate ability to attract you from a mile.

“Sure, whatever,” you shrugged and the conversation after that was flowing nicely. You got to know Suguru, you learned who he is and why did he stick with Satoru. It was a friendship they developed that kept them together and maybe it was thanks to Geto that your ex wasn’t so much of an asshole anymore. Maybe it’s the brunette’s calm personality that somewhat grounded the playboy. Or maybe it was all an illusion. Yea, it had to be an illusion. There was no way that these two six-foot-three giants were not causing some troubles.

Yeah, they were a trouble. Double trouble, to be exact, and you got to learn that when the doors of one of many bedrooms on the floor closed behind you. You don’t even know how and why you agreed to go with them anywhere in the first place. You had no idea how on earth did Satoru sweet-talked you into fucking him again. For the old time’s sake, my ass. And more important, how did he sweet-talked you into fucking not only him, but also Suguru? At the same time?! You were not built for this, that’s for sure.

“Let’s have fun like we always did, yeah?” Gojo had this typical, shit-eating grin stretched on his face, when he was pulling you by the wrist onto the bed. Geto took his time and lit up another joint, opting to just stand and watch for now. He had a smirk on, his eyes were fixed on you, and you could tell that they weren’t new to sharing a woman. It really was obvious they did that before.

You had no time to think if that surprises you at all. Satoru was a stranger to patience. He never enjoyed waiting and always went straight for what he wanted, and this time was no exception.

“God, you look so fucking hot as a schoolgirl,” he muttered, burying his face into your neck, nibbing and kissing wet marks onto your skin whilst his fingers were already dealing with buttons of your white shirt. Your body acted on its own accord, responding to the red stains of his lips and the cold touch of his fingers with excitement that you felt for the last time when you were in college. It bothered you that you still were so receptive to the way he feels on you, you thought that you’re way over the Gojo effect but seems like you were gravelly wrong. “What a naughty one,” Satoru chuckled, his voice bordered a moan when he finally opened your shirt and your shapely tits, hugged beautifully by a lace bra entered his field of view. “Fuck, I missed those.”

“You’re talking too much,” you grabbed him by the hair, tugging the snow-white strands at the base of his neck and pushing his face down your neck and onto your chest, hoping it will shut him up. That was the issue with your ex. He really was a phenomenal lay but he was just talking so damn much. That was what ultimately pushed you over the edge when you were together back in the day. You just couldn’t stand listening about other women while he was with you.

“Maybe I am,” he chuckled, sucking a red spot onto one of your tits, earning himself another tug on the hair.

“Don’t mark me, idiot,” you warned him, but it was already too late and both of you knew it.

“My, my… so nervous. Let me help you relax,” Gojo smiled wide and made you lay flat on the bed. It took him no time to find his place between your thighs and before you even got a chance to react, he was already pulling your panties off of you. For a split second, your mind got distracted by the subtle scent of weed that’s filling the air. The smell that reminded you that it’s not only you and your ex in the room, but also another person.

“Don’t worry about me,” Geto smiled. Something mischievous lingered over his lips as he did before he took another drag. The joint between his fingers slowly but surely becoming smaller as he was saturating his lungs with the fumes, only to breathe them out after a moment.

“Are you not going to join?” You asked, your voice slightly breaking into a whine once Satoru flicked his tongue over your clit, reminding you how well he spoke the language of your body. He was fluent in your pleasure, you were never sure if it came to him with experience or was he just naturally gifted, but either way, he had a skill and was proud of it. He began eating you out like he was starving for the past decade. His tongue worked the puffy nub of nerves all the way around, he sucked and licked, slurped and kissed your cunt, causing your body to jolt in pleasure. He was purring while between your legs, his long fingers already working their way into your hole. The stretch was delicious, the symphony of his mouth and hands was slowly driving you insane.

“You’re so sweet,” Satoru mumbled, taking the pleasure away to smear some wet kisses along your inner thighs. “She’s so incredibly sweet, Suguru, you have to taste her,” he added, accentuating the thought with a bite onto the fat of your thigh. His friend just chuckled, making his way towards you and he handed you his half smoked joint.

“I’d love to,” Geto replaced your ex between your thighs. He kept looking into your eyes when he opened his mouth, presenting you with his pierced tongue. Little, metallic ball in the middle of the muscle glistened in the artificial lighting and it made you moan out loud, when he swiped it along your slit, gathering your juices. There was something absolutely intimidating about his calm demeanor, something nearly diabolic but it was exactly what attracted you to him. He was complete opposite to Satoru. He wasn’t bright and loud; his eyes weren’t big and vibrant. He looked mysterious, he kept himself quieter, his eyes kept the focus that Gojo couldn’t achieve. They really were made for each other.

“Oh god—,” your eyes nearly rolled back as he began working on your swollen clit ruthlessly. You had no idea if it was because of the piercing or was it just his skill, but it felt even better then when the snow-white was between your thighs. Or maybe it was just you being so turned on by him.

“You like it?”, your ex asked, grinning as he was taking the time to undress himself. “Knew you’re gonna enjoy it.”

You spared him the comment, losing the track of thoughts in the way Suguru was making you feel. You could have sworn you never felt something like this, he was just incredible with the way his tongue was engraving his own name into your clit. Cold metal of his piercing doubled down the pleasure you were receiving, contrasting with the heat of his muscle.

Your thighs began to tremble, your toes curled in, and you felt yourself quickly falling down the hole of ultimate lust. Euphoria was rushing through your veins; your heart was drumming in your chest as the smoke was leaving your lungs after the drag you took from the joint in your hand. Suguru was pushing you over the edge with such ease it felt illegal. You could feel him grinning proudly from his spot between your legs, you could feel his fingers gripping your hips with bruising strength, keeping them in place while he was slurping your soul straight from your weeping pussy.

Your orgasm exploded and you called out Suguru’s name. He didn’t stop. He kept drinking, thirsty for more of you as your juices coated his tongue and the bottom of his handsome face.

“You really do taste fucking sweet,” he commented, getting up and crawling above you. His lips were on yours the moment he reached your face. He tasted the smoke and you tasted yourself in that kiss. It didn’t last long, but the intensity of it made you almost dizzy. “Let’s get you out of this uniform.”

 It took just few moments until you were completely bare underneath the heavy gaze of two men around you. Satoru was just in his underwear, the tent in them painfully apparent and you knew him well enough that he won’t be able to wait much longer, but what bothered you was the fact that Suguru was still completely clothed. He looked sexy in his dark outfit, but he can look sexy in it later.

“Aren’t you a tease—” you muttered, once he got up from the bed to drown the rest of the joint in what little of alcohol was left in one of your cups on the bedside table. “Take this off.” You demanded, coming up to your knees and pushing his hoodie up.

“How demanding,” he laughed but complied and you managed to just blink twice before his god-like figure presented itself to you. A muscular, large body beautifully decorated with a dragon tattoo that wrapped its tail around his right bicep and spread on his back. You couldn’t decide what to focus on – his impressive musculature, the ink on his skin or the fact that even though he still had his pants on, you could already feel yourself salivating.

Satoru was right behind you, swiping the angry tip of his cock up and down your folds, gathering your slick and making you shiver from the touch. He then pushed his girth into you, stretching you impossibly and pulling a quiet, whiny fuck straight out of your throat. It’s been a while since you’ve been having sex with anyone, not to say anyone with that size, but you couldn’t deny that the burn was delicious. It set all your senses on fire, the heatwave washed over you and once Gojo went with the first thrust, it reminded you how much you missed the physical act of intimacy with him.

“Can’t focus, pretty girl?”, Suguru brought your attention back to himself. His long fingers gently gathered all of your hair into a messy ponytail, and you got the hint immediately. As on cue, you unbuckled his pants, pushing them down almost too eagerly. “Good girl.”

The praise in his tone got you weak, you were already becoming a mess from how perfectly Satoru was fucking you right now, pounding his hips against yours in the mind-numbing manner. His cock hitting all of the sweet spots inside of you with each long stroke and that was enough to make you almost incapable of thinking straight, but your hands and mouth acted on its own.

Geto watched how your lips wrapped around his dick. The sight of you taking him into your mouth with such hunger was something he wanted to engrave onto his brain and if the picture was amazing, then there was no word to describe the feeling itself. Your soft, plush lips felt divine brushing along his sensitive shaft, your tongue dancing around his length made him almost lose his composure. You were a sight. And you made him feel so good, he could feel himself twitching in the hot, wet embrace of your mouth. You were sucking him as if your life was depending on it, as if it was your last supper and you wanted to devour it and every time his plump tip hit the back of your throat, he could feel you taking control over him.

“Isn’t she amazing?”, Gojo mumbled from behind you. His grip remained iron on your hips, the bruising force being the only thing that was grounding you now. You could feel yourself clenching around him, your juices were running down your thighs and the wet sounds of skin slapping against each other were filling the room.

“Oh, she is,” Geto confirmed, applying some force onto your head. The tug on your hair was enough to send you overboard and the vibration of your throat once you moaned were enough for him as well. You couldn’t tell who came first, and frankly, you couldn’t care less about it, as long as it felt so damn good.

“I, fuck— I told you,” Satoru panted out. His hips moved slower as he was sloppily riding the high out. You licked the cock in front of you clean, satisfied with the first course but hungry for more.

You shouldn’t allow all of this to happen. There was not a single argument that could justify everything that was happening right now – you shouldn’t sneak out to god-knows-whose room in your friend’s house and you absolutely shouldn’t sneak out there with not only your ex-boyfriend but also his friend. You couldn’t even remember how you agreed to that. Why have you agreed to that? You had no idea. Was it to talk?

You wouldn’t exactly call the way your body was being stuffed full by two cocks at the same time talking. You were squeezing Suguru’s shoulders as he was thrusting his hips up against yours. His body below you, laying flat on the bed made for a canvas for your nails to leave marks, but he didn’t seem to mind at all. He was kissing you with a mixture of passion and laziness, a smirk stayed prominent on his lips as he was swallowing your moans. The subtle taste of weed in his mouth got you wanting more of him. He felt perfect in every way, his movements were setting your nervous system on fire as the heat was spreading over your entire body, radiating from your core. You could feel Satoru’s fingers teasing your clit, you could feel his lips smearing wet trails along your spine. The way his hips were moving seemed to be perfectly in sync with the brunette.

You were so full of them, you never felt something like this before. The initial pain you felt when Gojo pushed his girth into your asshole was long gone now as he was pounding into you in complete unison with how Geto was moving. The sensation of being so incredibly full turned your brain into a heated mush, your body was trembling between them, electrocuted time after time with a sharp waves of white pleasure. Your vision was blurry, the stars covered most of it. You could no longer tell whose hands were where and your thighs were wet and sticky from all the seed that was being pumped into you, gushing out with every piston of their hips.

“You’re so perfect for us,” someone told you. A low, rasped out voice resounded right next to your ear, followed by a harsh bite onto your shoulder and the sudden wave of new pain that radiated from it pushed you over the edge. You were speeding, falling with no parachute. You couldn’t breathe for a moment as the climax was overtaking you. “Such a good girl, you’re making so much mess.”

“Oh god,” you whimpered, gasping for air as their thrusts picked a pace. You couldn’t form any coherent sentence as they were fucking the soul out of your body. Right after you came, they both came as well. Their cum coated your insides and leaked onto your thighs, dripping down as they pumped into you some more.

Gojo was first to pull out, spreading your cheeks and admiring how his white overflown your hole. The menacing grin spread across his face as he gripped your hips and lifted you off Suguru’s cock. The long-haired man sat up as you, led by your ex’s hands turned to straddle Geto’s lap. Your back was facing his chest as he pulled you back onto his shaft. All of his length sank right into your ass, pulling a moan right from your chest.

“Look at you, so gorgeous,” Satoru was in front of you, admiring for a moment your bouncing figure before his long fingers slipped into your cunt, curling in a way that got him pressing onto your oversensitive sweet spots. “Open your mouth for me.”

You barely registered his words, but your jaw dropped nonetheless. His cum coated digits slid right through your lips and you sucked on them, twirling your tongue around and tasting the mixture of your juices and their seeds. Suguru’s hands were kneading your breasts as his friend was playing with the mess between your thighs.

There was something deeply erotic in a way the white-haired man kept your gaze up. How he looked right into your eyes while you were being fucked by his best friend, how he enjoyed the way you gave them your body to play however they wanted. And it felt even more erotic when Satoru licked the lone drop of cum that escaped the corner of your mouth only to kiss you right after.

Geto was still slamming his pelvis up and you got stuck in the realm of pleasure, hanging somewhere between the movements of the cock in your ass and the lips over your own. You could feel your thighs trembling. Your body, still oversensitive from the last orgasm and yet, already entering the state of another. The wave of lustful relief now flowing dangerously close to your core, the knot in your stomach holding just barely and you squeezed Satoru’s hair, tugging at them harshly. You were struggling to breathe through the heavy kiss he was laying on your lips, but the sensation of it rendered you unable to fight it.

And then it hit you once again. The man below you filled you to the brim, tearing down the last bits of composure you had and your world shattered once the final climax. You felt as if the lust and desire were steaming off of all three of you. The breaths were mixed and the tastes concocted. As all three of you fell onto the bed, blissfully satisfied, you began to slowly regain your mind to the sound of a soft chuckle from your left side. Satoru. He had a habit of laughing when he was fulfilled – a sign of his happiness, the state nearing high. There was some gratefulness in it as well.

“How are you feeling?”, the question came from the right side, where Suguru seemed to already plan how to take care of the entire mess. He kissed your shoulder softly.

“Good,” you replied to him, watching as he gathered himself up from the bed.

“You rest a little bit longer; I’ll go get washed first and then you two.”

[runicarbiter02]

Helllooo! Request are open and I'm running over here. Can I request hdc for alejandro vargas and ghost, being jealous because there crush is a little bit touching with another men. Thank youu honey.

A/N: This is definitely an interesting one! I'd be happy to write these for you, since you specifically specified them, I'll just do them for this one. :) I hope you enjoy, darling! I'm still learning how to write for Ale, so I apologize if he's a bit OOC! Also, thank you all for over 1,000 notes on my first headcanon request! I am so, so happy you all are liking the post! ~ Hannah

ALEJANDRO VARGAS

I imagine with Alejandro, this would be a slow burn friends to lovers sort of situation. You, Alejandro, and Rudy have all been friends since you all joined up together. Alejandro has always been on the flirtier side with most people, which is why whenever he flirts with you, you don't tend to think much of it. That's just who he is, right?

Los Vaqueros had just gotten a new member, a young, handsome man in his mid-twenties. He's conventionally attractive and funny, which some of the other women definitely admire, but your thoughts are elsewhere. Unfortunately - or fortunately, if you look at it a certain way - you were assigned to show him around the base and get him up to speed.

Cut to the both of you in the mess hall on base, chattering away. Alejandro sees the both of you, and his blood boils. Who does this hijo de puta think that he is?

What really pisses him off is when the young man leans in, saying something that makes you laugh and you playfully shove him away with a coy smile. Alejandro quickly storms out, furious with the young man, but furious with himself for getting so upset.

He doesn't realize you follow him out until he feels your hand on his shoulder.

"Ale? What's wrong, hermano?" If only you knew how much he hated that nickname coming from your lips.

When he turns, one look at how concerned you are, and all his frustrations come spilling from his lips. He's just about to brush it off as him being silly when you don't respond right away before a laugh is erupting from you.

"Ale, he's not into me. He's just friendly. I thought he was flirting with me earlier, but he let me know that he's no even interested in sexual stuff. He's ace," You reassure, and suddenly, Alejandro feels ridiculously stupid. But that falls aside when you stand on your toes and brush a kiss to his cheek. "Now come on, cariño, you need to eat." His eyes follow you as you return to the mess hall, and he's stunned into silence.

Maybe he feels a little less bad about getting jealous.

SIMON "GHOST" RILEY

This man hates his jealousy. Despises it.

But, it's a part of him nonetheless, and it's something he has to live with.

I imagine it as quiet, little things around base that really gets to him: you're a medic, a really good one at that, and the men absolutely love you for how kindly you treat them all. You have patience, but you aren't afraid to bark orders at them if they're acting out of place.

"MacTavish, if you rip your stitches one more time, I'll kick your ass into next fucking week." "Captain, I don't care if you have more paperwork to do, get your ass in bed before I drag you there myself." "Hold still or I will personally strap you to this cot myself, rookie."

Your feisty nature and take-no-shit attitude is absolutely what drew him to you initially. Cue almost a year of pining on his end, and on your end, but not to his knowledge.

The final straw that ultimately cracks his resolve is a young sergeant that is trying to flirt with you while you stitch up a bullet wound on his side. It's obvious you're just being polite as you accept his compliments and hum in response at his attempts at flirting, but it still rubs Simon the wrong way.

Simon's jealousy is quiet, boiling, settling in the center of his chest. Every touch of yours against the sergeant's skin merely stokes the flames, but he does nothing, continuing to brood in the corner. He waits until you're done, shooing the young man off with a half-assed threat of harm if he ruins his stitches. That's when you finally notice him.

"Ghost, what have I told you about lurking in my med bay?" You tease softly before taking note of the hard look in his eyes. Slowly, you put two and two together, chuckling softly. "Ah, I see. C'mere, big guy."

He isn't mad. Not at all. All he can think about is that young man, who has all he doesn't: charm, good looks, youth, and the blessing of a childhood unscarred by a demon of a father. Simon isn't so lucky.

He can't stop himself as he follows your instructions, stepping into your office and taking a seat at your desk as you close the door. You sit on top of your desk and smile down at him before you hold out your hand expectantly. He furrows his brows but gives you his hand anyway, grumbling something about how he "doesn't know where your filthy mitts have been."

As soft kisses are pressed to his knuckles, however, he goes quiet. "Silly, jealous man. Can't even see that I look at you the same way you look at me. Eyes of a hawk, my ass," You tease.

He turns every shade of red beneath his damn balaclava, and you're damn certain to tease him about it as he melts back into the seat.

Hijo de puta - Son of a bitch

Hermano - Brother

Cariño - Honey; dear

TAGLIST

@floral-force

[kpop---scenarios]

Misery Loves Company (1)

Pairing: Lee Know x Reader

Warning: Language etc

Genre: Coworkers/Enemies to Lovers

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: Okay! I'm happier with this version of the first chapter!

Everything Taglist: @piscesrising01 @baby-stay92 @kisses-too-the-moon @dwaekkiiracha @rylea08 @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @satosugu4l @iovecb97 @lordmaahes-nsc @sailorkoss @minh0scat @pixie0627 @50-husbands @jinnies-muse @yaorzu-blog @joyofbebbanburg @number1jeonginstan @skzooluvr @jisunglyricist @ambersnowxxx

@wife2straykids @silly250 @gabriellamarie @tsunderelino @1810cl

@anskiiz @ayyonoona

“Are you ready for the conference?” Your friend and co-worker, Hyunjin grins. “I can't wait for it.”

“Oh yeah, a week of meetings and workshops sounds absolutely delightful.” You chuckle.

“Believe me, that's not all that happens.” He grins, sending you a wink as he nudges you with his elbow.

You look around the office, catching the eye of the man you despised the most, Lee Know. Or as everyone else in the office called him, Minho. He was an arrogant, self centered, short tempered, selfish and rude man. And for some reason, well not some, a reason well known, he was extremely popular among your co-workers. He was undoubtedly extremely attractive, with a sense of humor that everyone loved, except you. However, that didn't change his shitty attitude and even shittier work ethic, and yet he had the audacity to talk shit about you.

You had walked into the break room one day, when you had only been working there for a few weeks, and there sat Minho with his back to you while he spoke to a few other workers.

“She's just… well, she's fucking horrible at her job.” He chuckles. “I mean, sure she's nice, maybe? I dunno, I haven't really talked to her, but she sucks. She must have been hired for her tits and ass.” He says, laughing. The other workers try to hide their faces as he continues on. But surely he wasn't talking about you? You were hired around the same time as another girl, and this made your stomach sink. You weren't great yet but you were trying, and you hadn't had like a huge fuck-up. Only a few minor ones.

You tried your best to ignore it, since there was a chance he wasn't talking about you and you wouldn't be upset until it was confirmed. “Y/N needs to go. I don't know how she's still even here.” He sighs, glancing over to his left. “Rose, what are you doing this weekend?” He smiles, looking at the other newer girl.

“She's right behind you, man. Why do you have to be such a dick?” One of the men, Hyunjin tells him, getting up from his chair to come up to you.

“Don't listen to him. He barely has one brain cell that's even functioning.” Hyunjin chuckles, guiding you out of the break room. ever since then, you and Hyunjin had become very good friends, while that made you want nothing to do with Minho, and you avoided him for months as best as you could. Unfortunately for you, you were still close enough to hear about his weekends, which led you to finding out that he was the biggest playboy you had ever met. Monday mornings, he was always talking about his latest conquests from the weekend, making sure it was loud enough for you and others to hear, rarely got his own work done on time, and yet, somehow was still praised by management.

You were honestly shocked he hadn't been fired yet. If you were to do some of the exact same things he did, you'd be written up, but he was a god among you all, and that fueled your hatred for him even more.

“Hey, you wanna ride to the airport together?” Hyunjin asks, as you're both packing up for the day. You were all booked on the same flights, tomorrow morning at 9:00am but you weren't going to let Hyunjin go that far out of his way for you.

“That's sweet, but no thanks. It's too far, I'm just going to drive myself, my dad is going to pick up my car from the airport later tomorrow. I appreciate the offer though!” You smile.

“Well if you change your mind, let me know.” He smiles, leaving before you.

You finish grabbing your bag, turning off your computer and making sure you weren't forgetting anything. You make your way to the elevator, clicking the button as you wait for it to ding, you feel the presence of someone beside you. You glance over, seeing Minho standing beside you, impatiently tapping his briefcase.

“Did you even press the button?” He asks, pressing it again.

“What do you think? I'm not an idiot.” You snap.

“Woah.” He chuckles. “A little testy this evening, are we?”

“You ruin my mood with your presence.” You sigh.

“You hate me that much? What have I ever done to you, Y/N?” He asks.

“Oh yeah, I despise you.” You answer. The elevator opens, you push your way in front of Minho to get on first, pressing the close button in the hopes it would magically close right in his face.

“That's hurtful, Y/N.” He pouts. “I just wanna be friends.”

“I have enough friends.” You respond.

“What's one more?” He grins.

“Having you as a friend sounds like absolute hell.” You say.

“Good thing I don't actually want to have you as a friend. You're too uptight for my liking. Maybe if you loosened up a little.” He says. “You know what, probably not even then.”

The rest of the ride down is silent. You get off as soon as you can, speed walking towards the front doors so you can get away from him as fast as possible. That night when you got home you finished up your packing and went to bed early. You had to leave by 630am to get to the airport at a decent time before your flight, you were not going to miss it.

“No, no, no!” You whine, running as fast as you can towards your flight's gate. Your carryon suitcase barely hangs on behind you as you weave through the crowds of people standing around waiting. “Please… no.” You breathe as you reach the desk, slamming your boarding pass down on the top. Seconds later another boarding pass is slammed down next to yours but you choose to ignore it. You were here first and you desperately needed to get onto this flight.

“I'm…” You breathe, your chest heaving. “Here.” The lady smiles at you, opening her mouth to speak. “I'm so sorry.” She sighs. “You just missed it.”

“No! Please! I woke up late and was rushing to get…here! And then I got a flat tire on my way! I-I left my car on the side of the road… I had to hitch a ride the rest of the way!” You complain. “It hasn't even taken off!” You say, motioning to the plane that was now pulling away from the gate.

You let out a big sigh. “Are there any other flights going out later today or tomorrow?” You ask.

“Yeah I really need to be on that flight.” Someone beside you says. The voice was familiar. A little too familiar and you really fucking hoped it wasn't who you thought it was.

You look over and aggressively roll your eyes, seeing the man you worked with, that you absolutely despised.

“I'll be on any flight that he's not on.” You say.

“They’d leave you before they left me, right gorgeous?” He chuckles, sending the desk agent a wink.

“Unfortunately, you're both out of luck.” The lady says, giving you both a sympathetic look. “The next flight there isn't until next week.” She tells you.

“But I need to be there ASAP for a conference. It starts in 3 days!” you complain.

“So do I.” Minho huffs.

“No one cares about what you need to do, Minho!” You snap.

“You can always rent a car.” She suggests. You hang your head down. The last thing you wanted to do was drive for 3 days to get there but it seemed like at this point it was your only choice. When you look back up, Minho is already gone. You make your way to the car rental desk, getting in line behind Minho. A few minutes later the man at the desk walks away with his keys in his hand, letting Minho head up to the desk.

“Just to let you know.” The girl behind the desk starts. “We only have one car available.” She says, forcing a smile.

“I'll take it.” Minho yells, just before you. He turns around, giving you a grin, one that made you want to punch him in the face. “What are you gonna do, Y/N?” He asks, protruding his lip for a fake pout.

“You have nothing left?” You ask the girl, holding your hands together to beg her. You'd drop to your knees if you had too.

“Not until next week.” She says. Minho continues to rent the car, signing documents, giving his license, while you stood behind him, internally fighting with yourself. You could just miss the conference right?

You pull out your phone to call your boss, who answers on the second ring.

“Y/N. Are you on your way?” He asks.

“Well sir…” you say, clearing your throat. “I missed the flight. And unfortunately Minho got the last car rental.” You explain. “So I was wondering…” you begin before he cuts you off.

“That's perfect. Just go with Minho then. What's the problem?” He asks.

“Nothing sir. Just wanted to let you know what the plan was.” You say through gritted teeth.

“Excellent. See you in a few days.” He says, hanging up the phone.

Minho grabs his keys walking past you, without a care in the world. You grab his arm, which to your surprise is a lot more muscular than you had expected.

“Can I help you?” He asks, pulling his arm away from you.

“Can I….” You trail off into a mumble. Minho squints his eyes at you. “Huh?”

“Can I… get a….” You trail off into a mumble again.

“I'm sorry, what? Y/N, speak up. I can't help you if you don't talk to me.” He says, leaning his ear closer. “I'm not getting the question?”

“Can I get a ride with you?” You huff, rolling your eyes.

“See, that wasn't so hard was it?” He smiles.

“So?” You sigh. “Can I?”

“No.” He says, walking towards the parking lot.

“Come on! You talk shit about me! it's the least you can do.” You snap.

“Oh fuck. It was one time.” He says.

“That I know of.” You tell him.

“Just skip the conference.” He says, continuing to walk away.

“I would if I could. Mr. Johnson said to ride with you.” You tell him.

Minho doesn't respond, instead pulls his ringing phone from in his pocket, sighing loudly as he looks at the caller ID. “Hello?” He answers. “Yes sir. Of course sir. See you then, sir.” He finishes hanging up the phone.

He starts walking away, you stay still. Taking in deep breaths. You'd get this figured out. It would be fine. Everything always ends up being fine, right? As you turn to walk in a different direction, Minho turns his head to look at you. “Well let's fucking go, we don't have time to waste.” He snaps, continuing to walk. You smile to yourself as you follow him, but that smile quickly fades when you remember how long you're going to be stuck with him in the car. At least you'll get a break when you get your own hotel rooms.

“Rules for the car.” Minho starts, pulling out of the airport parking lot. “You're not allowed to talk. You're not allowed to touch the radio, you're not allowed to do anything. Okay? It's gonna be a long drive and I'm already annoyed.” He says.

You don't reply, instead just stare out the window, leaning your head back onto the head rest.

“Okay?” He says again, glancing at you.

“What?” You scoff. “You said I'm not allowed to talk.”

“Fucking take me now.” He groans, looking up at the sky.

The first few hours were fine. The hum of the radio filled the car and you slept off and on, but right now you needed to use the bathroom so fucking bad. You didn't want to break the rules but there was a gas station coming up, and if you didn't go you were going to burst.

“I need to pee!” You yell out, pointing to the station. Minho sighs as he pulls off onto the exit, pulling up to the pump. You exit the car as fast as your legs would take you, b-lining straight for the women's room.

A few minutes later, you emerge feeling like a brand new woman. You glance outside, expecting to see Minho waiting in the car but he's no longer parked by the pumps. Your head whips from left to right, and you can't see him. Your purse, your phone, everything you had was in that car and now panic was starting to set in.

Your chest starts heaving as you could barely catch your breath. You were turning in a circle, until you heard laughing. You look over, seeing Minho walking over.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He asks, eyebrow raised.

“I thought you left me.” You admit.

“I parked on the side because someone else needed the pump.” He says. “I've been waiting for you. Jesus christ, let's go.” He finishes, walking back the way he came.

Relief sets in as you follow him to the car. Yeah, you probably should have checked around the whole building, but it also would not have been completely out of character for Minho to just abandon you in some town. The two of you get back into the car, setting off once again. If you wanted to make it on time, you were going to have to drive for another 8 hours before stopping. Honestly, it couldn't get any worse. The silent car ride was killing you. You enjoyed talking to people, and even though the only person you had to talk to was Minho, you would have rather had that than not talking at all. But every time you tried to talk to him, he immediately shut you down, whether or not he verbally told you to shut up, or putting his finger to his lips, or putting up his hand to tell you to stop. After the third time, you just decide to give up.

Eight hours later, Minho pulls into the parking lot of a hotel, parking the car. You both get out, excited to stretch and crawl into your own beds and sleep before another long drive tomorrow. You both walk up to the front desk, each speaking with a different clerk.

“One room, one bed, please.” You smile at the man.

Minho points to you. “What she said.” He murmurs, letting out a yawn.

“I'm sorry.” The man smiles. “Unfortunately, we only have one room available for the night.”

“Whatever.” Minho sighs. “One room, two beds then.”

“No sir.” The man laughs. “My apologies for being unclear.” He smiles.

“We only have one room with one bed.”

[befemininenow]

This is who you really are and you're ready to move forward with your true interests. (P.S. If you're a trans girl and are struggling to accept your shifting interest in men, this may be for you. However, this is not meant to be a "sissy caption". I don't like doing that kind of shit.)

Late Flashback Friday post... posted on a Sunday. Anyways, I had this caption finished just today and I wanted to post it for a reason: straight trans women exist. Unfortunately, there doesn't seem to be much acknowledgement to them either because they are outnumbered by trans girls of other sexualities or because straight trans girls assimilate with the rest of society. The latter reason isn't without problems either as they also face sexism and transphobia from cisgender men who view them as "crossdressers", "traps", or "sissies"*. Then, there's the chasers who only go out with them to fulfill their "dirty little secret".

As of me writing this, I'm so glad there's a subreddit of straight trans girls who support one another and talk about their problems and solutions as embracing your shifting sexuality and interests can be challenging for anyone transitioning. The caption here isn't meant to persuade you into a straight girl who lusts for men. It's meant to support those trans girls who are realizing they're only attracted to men, but are afraid to accept their change. If your sexuality suddenly shifts, don't be afraid to accept it. Try it out and find out if it feels so right for you. It's part of your journey of transitioning into a woman. At the end of the day, straight trans women are also women and should be respected as such.

*P.S. To the sissies viewing this caption and reading this post, you are welcome to like this post and reblog it if your like. However, I ask you to please refrain from using hashtags like "feminine sissy", "faggot sissy". "cocksucker sissy" or whatever explicit tags you guys use to share with other blogs. Straight trans girls are not gay or lesbians, much less a sissy. They do not automatically turn into girls after having action with men. They have always been women inside.

[delicatereader]

I need you (stephen!hayden x reader)

• summary: Stephen is a little rusty in sex and needs some help

• warnings: well smut

• a/n: this is about hayden/stephen not the actual one. I didn't go deep with the smut bc I am just getting the hang of it so yea. enjoy! (btw I haven't proof read it so there are mistakes...

➽────────────────────────────❥

You've had an exhausting day at work, unfortunately you have to work overnight. All you want is a get away from this shit. There were only few others with you left. You peacefully working in your space, reading reports in your spinning chair when Stephen comes in.

He hastily grabs a chair and pulls it next to you to sit. You ignore him because you what was coming, he's gonna rant about how everyone thinks he's gay and no one likes him. You didn't think that way, you've had a cute crush on him for a while but didn't do anything because you worked with him and didn't have the time. You've always liked the way he talks and his glasses (you found them slutty and hot).

"What do you think of me?" he asks

"What do you mean?" you try to confirm, still reading the reports

"What do you think me?"

"You're kind, generous and hard-working!" you reply looking at him

"No like what do you think of me?" he repeats

You let out a harsh sigh annoyed.

"Like physically, do you find me attractive?" he blurts out

"What?" you respond in surprise

"Like am I attractive?" he asks again

"Yeah? why? did someone say anything to you?" you ask him concerned

"No..." he drags

"Spill" you demand

"Ok! It's been a while since you know..." he says

"What? I don't know"

"Since you know!" he looks at his pants and back up (twice)

"Sex?" you answer

"Shhhhh!" he silences you, making you giggle

"Someone will hear you! But yeah since I had sex" he continues

"So you want to start having sex again?" you ask

"Well yeah! It's been a long time" he admits

"How long?" you ask curiously

"Ummm...2 years?"

"What!? 2 years?! omg!" you yell whilst whispering

"I'm a bit rusty..." he says

You scoff as a response, "you will be"

"Oh shut up!" he responds

"Can't belive it! 2 years!" you laugh out loud

"Yep..." he says embarrassed, nodding his head

"Ok I won't laugh! I promise! you speak" you take a deep breath

"So everyone thinks I'm gay, I accidentally let people- no men stick their tongue down my throat and the girls I get run away when they hear the gay rumours" he explains his situation

"Well they just haven't seen your search history! trust me your straight!!" you confirm for him.

He leans back on the chair shocked

"How do you know my search history?"

"The other week you left early and forgot to log out. I did it for you" you smile at him proudly

"Anyways what am I supposed to do about this? I have some friends who might be interested..." you advise resting your head on you palms.

"No" he replies instantly

"Then?" you ask raising your eyebrows waiting for some details

"I need you" he mutters

"What?" you yell in shock

"You. I mean I don't know anyone else better. I'm close to you so it won't be that awkward!" he explains further

"What?! I can't!"

"Yes you can. Nat, Smith and Jade are leaving right now" he says placing a hand on your lap

"What?" as you respond you hear an elevator reach your floor seeing your colleagues leave

"It's just us! please!" he begs. You could see the desperation in his eyes.

"If I agree to this..." you drag

"I'll owe you a million" he offers

"Fine" you shrug even though you've wanted him for so long, you put on a act.

He instantly gets off the chair and kisses you

"Is that ok?" he asks

You nod in response

His kisses get more passionate and confident. His lips are awfully soft. His hands travel from your lap to your cheeks. He starts to kiss your neck, but whilst leaving a trail of kisses from behind your ear to you collarbone you get up and turn so he is in the chair. You're sat on his lap legs on both sides of him. He slips his around your waist and let's them travel your back and slip through your hair.

You pull his dark blonde curls, making him whimper. "You like that?"

The only response you got was a moan.

He starts to unbutton your shirt kissing your chest and around your bra. You follow his actions and pull his shirt off. He takes your bra off and kisses your breasts.

You slowly start to grind on him, making his head fall back in pleasure. "Fuck y/n!"

His breath starts to get heavier. He pulls his hand from your waist to tale off his glasses. Suddenly, you stop him.

"Whay are you doing?"

"Taking of my glasses?"

You lean against his mouth with a smirk

"The glasses stays on" you demand

"You have a thing for glasses?" He asks, locking his lips with a smile and carrying pire lust in his eyes.

"Shut up!" you say rolling your eyes at him whilst giggling

"We'll see who needs to shut up after this" he says with a mischievous smile leaning back in to kiss you

[bodyswapmischief]

One Gift Can Change the World

(A story written for @tf-lover for the annual story exchange)

The world was a blur, as Erica zoomed by. She was driving home in a rush. The day had dragged on, and her professor was the cherry on top of pile shit that today had turned out to be. Unfortunately, her ass of a professor wasn't the only problematic man she had to face. On a daily basis, there was a parade of men that would at best annoy her and, at worst, make her wish she was not a girl. Don't get me wrong. She loved being a girl. Well, she loved being a Tom Girl. But even with her best attempt of dressing and acting tough, there were always guys trying to hit on her ... make her act like “a real woman,” Stop hiding her beauty by dressing like a “dyke,” and let a man protect her. But, she didn't need a man’s protection. She'd taken out guys twice her size. But, all people saw when they looked at her was a small and weak 4’9 girl.

Although, she wouldn't lie. She often fantasized about being a man. And, not just any man. She wanted to be seen tough on the outside like she felt on the inside. Yeah, if she was a man, she'd wanted to be ripped and muscled out. She'd want to be the epitome of strength. She'd want to look like she worked out every day of her life. She'd smile at the fact that men would finally leave her alone. She wouldn't get hit on. Her professor wouldn't even dare criticize her. And, if he did ... she beat the living shit out of him without breaking a sweat.

As she drove home, she let these ideas carry her to her happy place. Gaming. The only solace she had from reality. She could play as a manly warrior. She could be the cool space soldier with undoubted authority. She could play with the boys and not be thought of as some girl. She never even considered telling her gamer friends she was a girl. It was her little secret ... a secret made better by the fact she was better than all of them in any game they played. Thanks to the technological advancements of the late 21st and early 22nd centuries, her video game fantasies were even more of a reality. The improvements of artificial imaging, vocal mapping, and sensory mirroring in virtual reality helped to make gamers live a life in the games they played.

Now, she was speeding through traffic on her way home. She was looking forward to the only saving grace that could make this shitty day better. Today was the announcement of the newest VR game. Rumored to be the next big step in virtual reality. There have been a few clips and leaks of the game, but other than that, the games secrets have been locked up tight. All she knew of the game was that it was rumored to have true realism graphics and that if it was true ... it would be the first of its kind. She continued her way home, cursing at anything that slowed her down.

Arriving home, she ran straight to her room. “Hey, fuckers keep it down. I'm gonna be watching the announcement of the new game. And, if I'm interrupted, I'm gonna kick someone's ass.” She puffed as rushed by her roommates. With readied excitement she turned on her computer and logged onto the first stream of the announcement she could find. The screen remained black for a few seconds before flashing to life.

The screen flashed with the image of The Second Life company. Three colored triangles zoomed onto the screen. They proceed to spin around in a circle, and their points interlocked. The logo began to fade, as a man sitting at an office desk begins to get into view. The chat section began to glow abuzz. People commented their excitement, others shouted out greetings to the void, and others just threw out nonsense. “Hello! And welcome to today's announcement.” The man smiled as he spoke. His name flashed under him on the screen, Nathan Black.

The man continued to talk as he spoke with a smug grin. The attractive features of his face and those most likely underneath his suit helped fill his presence with Charisma. “History has led us to this moment. Our ancestors could only imagine what their children could have achieved. And, Human history has brought so many advancements in so many areas of science and technology. VR technology is one of these areas.Beginning in the 2010s, we entered the dark ages of VR. The first real uses and mainstream-ifacation. Over the years, new technology has been created to make these experiences even more real and personal. Now, in the great year 2130, you can play as a cartoon cat running your own cafe. Zip through space in your own spaceship. Immerse yourself in real-time team warfare. Take on cgi Dragons with your friends. Build cgi avatars to be the person you always wanted to be. Even now, data shows that 10 percent of people have decided to make VR spaces and games their true lives. Spending most of their day plugged in. 30 percent of people report a steady income from VR game economies. The future is now VR!” He stands up and begins to walk around the office. The camera moved to follow him.

“Our ancestors one hundred years ago ... had dreams. Flying cars, instant meals, teleportation services, space travel, etcetera. But, years of human conflict have stunted any progress we could have achieved. Instead, we continue to look for an escape from real life. Instead, we've put money into developing entertainment. We hope to be distracted from the world. Those numbers I've shared are only going up. With 55 percent of people interested in making a move to permanent VR or even picking up a second job in VR spaces. And, why wouldn't they? Everything our ancestors wanted, in the 21st, 20th, 19th centuries, and back to the dawn of time, is available in these VR spaces. So why not improve them to the best capabilities we can. Why not make it more real? Why not make them as indistinguishable from reality as we can? Well, we have. Everything you have seen in this announcement has not been real. It has been generated with our new console. The Second Life X.” As he says that, the walls and everything in his office disintegrate like sand blown in a strong breeze. He now stands in an open cleaning in a forest. The comment section of the stream explodes with excitement and disbelief. A group of people not believing this is real because there was just no way that graphics could be this good.

“And the first foray into this new world of VR is called Fantasy Land. The bundled game will come with the console at launch. When we developed what we are calling Real CGI ... we pondered on what genre would be the first to explore. And we thought it would be best to take it back to the earliest form of fantasy. Where knights and wizards roamed to adventure. Where fairies danced in the woods and magic was in the air. Where people would live to die as legends.”

The rest of the stream showed off new features of the game. The intensive character creation section. Erica could imagine spending days, if not weeks, just on the character creation to make her avatar the exact way she wanted it. As Nathan showed off these features, it was almost scary how real it looked. Nathan's face would morph to have different features. His body would grow and shrink to different sizes. Finally, he reverted back to himself and began to show off some spells, and they looked equally realistic. The stream ended with the surprise that the system and game would drop a week before Christmas, tomorrow.

All the excitement that built up in Erica was instantly drained. She collapsed onto her gaming chair. She let out an audible “Fuuuck!” From her room. She sat there for a few minutes and then moved to plop herself face down on the bed. “Fuck! Today couldn't just be a bit better.” As she lied there in self pity, she could hear her door squeak open. “Erica!!! Did you see it! Did you see the announcement!” She didn't even need to look up to see that her twin brother had entered the room.

She loved her brother, but right now, she wanted to be left alone. But, she could hear the excitement in his voice. And, he didn't deserve her meanness. No, Elias had to deal with meanness all his life. When they were both in the womb, Erica felt like she took all the good genes. She was smart and beautiful despite hiding it in baggy clothes. Her brother was not the brightest, and he wasn't the most attractive man in a room. He was a socially awkward geek. One that she would have to protect from bullies at school. But, now in college, he did have two things she didn't have. The ability to make real friends. Yeah, she had online friends ... but she kept a bunch of secrets from them. But, again, she didn't really like people. So, she was glad that Elias had friend making skills at the very least. So, she could spend more time alone in the virtual world. The second thing was her brother's size and strength. He was the definition of a friendly giant.

“Yeah, I heard.” She sighed and looked up at her brother. “Are you sure? Because, if you did ... you'd be more excited!” He beamed. “No, yeah, the game looked great.” She rolled her eyes. “Erica! Then why aren't you excited ... are you being sarcastic ... I can't tell. Why didn't you like the game?” Elias pleaded for an answer. “Cause, Elias, I won't be playing the game!” She yelled out. Elias jumped. “Why not? I mean, it's coming out tomorrow ... short notice. But we can go out now and wait in line for a midnight release somewhere.” Erica sighed, “It’s not because it's too soon ... it's because I don't have money to buy a new console! I thought it was gonna be a game for SL 9.” Elias looked worried. “Well that's okay ... then when you do get money ... we can go get one. So what if we have to wait a week or two.” Erica fell back onto her bed. “If only! Remember when the Second Life 9 came out ... it was completely out of stock for a year ... and then some people didn't even get it off the waitlist until 3 years later.” Elias sank on the bed next to her. He was also beginning to realize the bad news. “We could ask mom and dad ...” Erica cut him off, “They never would ... you know they are against VR, and they believe it's evil and gonna take over the world.” Elias weakly smiled, “Well ... then we hope for a miracle.” Erica, let those words sink in, “Yup, a miracle.”

Christmas Day

Erica had spent the rest of the week in a sort of depression. Now, sitting around her family as they opened presents, she couldn't get herself in the mental space to be there. Everyone was smiling and getting into the atmosphere of the day. She opened her presents like everyone else. She got dresses from her parents. She got makeup and lotions from other family members. She got a gift card from her brother, which was the only gift she liked. Christmas was another horrible day. And, when it was over, she was happy. Her and Elias began the drive back to their shared apartment. Their other roommates still gone with their families out of state.

Getting back to the apartment, she plopped onto the couch and sat down. Elias slowly approached. “I got you another present ... I thought it would be best to open away from mom and dad.” He hurried to his room and came back with a big box. “Merry Christmas!” Erica was puzzled and began to open it. “ You didn't need... Oh my fucking God! How...” She exploded with excitement, as she unwrapped the Second Life X bundle.

She ran to her room and began to plug in everything. The game loaded up, and she attached the new VR headset to her face. The logo of the company and the game flash by. She hurried to start a new game. She looked down and saw her current body in some kind of fantasy styled inn and wearing barbarian starting gear. She saw options floating around her. She instantly goes to height and begins to increase it. The world around her became slightly smaller. Now, she was standing at 6’4. She looked at her reflection in a mirror. She laughed at seeing her features on this stretched out body. She swapped her gender and felt a zap on the side of her head. She touched it as a reaction. “Fuck that hurt!” The game informed here that sensory mode had now been enabled. And, at that instant she saw her body begin to morph to look more masculine. She looked like her brother, only better looking and slimmer. As her body morphed it felt like water rippling. It felt relaxing. Then she gasped as she felt something pop out of her vagina. She reached down into her pants, noticing her clothes also were shifting to match her new body, she felt her new cock. “What the fuck ... this is new ... this game really went there!” She laughed with her same voice. She winced seeing such a girly voice coming out of this man's body. She began to explore voice options until she found one she liked. She looked at her reflection and smile. She looked like a hot fuck boy. But, she didn't want to stop there. She wanted to be a man.

She began to explore with body hair options. And increasing her muscle size by adding points to her strength stat. She found it interesting that layout her stats started as. She also found it strange that if she wanted to, she could max all her stats to 20. She maxed out her strength. She set her dexterity to 15. Her constitution maxed to 20. Her intelligence was already 17, so she didn't change it. Her wisdom was also not changed at 12. And, her charisma score of 5 was bumped to 14. Her body morphed to match every choice. She looked at her new avatar. An absolute beast of a man. Hairy, ripped, and good-looking. She was happy as she looked in the mirror. She felt her body, and it felt rock hard. Her cock was ragging in her pants. “Fuck ... is this really gonna be part of the game.” She laughed. She pondered making more changes... but she also wanted to see actual game play. Worst case she could always start a new game if she did want to make changes to the way she looked. She played the first ten minutes of the game before she felt hungry. “Too bad I still have to leave the game to eat.” She laughed.

She took off her headset, and the world was thrown out of balance. Her room looked so much smaller. She began to stumble and walk. She felt so heavy, and the floor thudded with every step. She looked down and saw her avatar from the game. She or now he was completely naked. The clothes he was wearing were torn to shreds. He let out a guttural yell instead of a scream. “Erica! Is that you!” Elias barged into the room. He looked at the naked barbarian in front of him, hung like a horse. “Ahhhhh!” Elias screamed.

Erica rushed to him. Not knowing his own strength, he knocked them both to the floor. He covered Elias’ mouth to stop the screaming. “It's me ... it's Erica!.” He shouted in a deep voice. Elias fainted. When he came to, he saw the giant man taking care of him. If this man was bad ... why was he still here. It couldn't be... “Erica ...” He let out. Erica turned to see her brother awake. “Yeah ... it's me.” He spoke, his voice rumbling the air with his deep voice. “What happened?” Elias squeaked.

The big man pointed to the screen. The news was on. A woman spoke as the words “breaking news” flashed on the screen. “Reports are still coming in of Body Transformations throughout the country and world. Authorities are confirming that the cause is the new Second Life X console. It is also believed that the company has purposefully set this bio weapon on the public. The Second Life Entertainment offices and Second Life Corporation have been radio silent on the matter. Wait ... just ... it seems like their website has just gone offline. Authorities are asking to drop off all Second Life technology to the nearest police station. Again, do not use Second Life technology.”

The news broadcast kept going. The sound of sirens from the outside began to fill the night air. Other screams could be heard in the distance. But Erica interrupted, “And, online coders found hidden code that was set to activate just a few moments ago. People are saying Second Life has been planning this for a long time.” Elias looked at his new brother concerned. “Well ... I'm sorry ... is there a way to undo this?”.

The gaint laughed and shook the air. “Sorry! I love this! This is what I always wanted. But you probably shouldn't call me Erica anymore... Call me Erik ... with a K.” He laughs “More barbaric. But what about you, little bro ... want a new life.” Elias gasped. “What about the report ... can this be trusted? What about the consequences.” Erik put his huge strong hand on his brother. “The only consequences is you'll be the person you always wanted to. Think no one is going to give this to the police ... the power to be who they want. The world has changed. You can be in it as the person you want or the person you are now.”

Elias grabbed the VR headset and put it on. He began a new game and began to edit his character. Erik watched his brother change before his eyes. Elias shrank from 6’4 to 6’. He began to slim down. His chubby body became more tone. His pasty skin tanned until he looked like an exotic Middle Eastern man. His oversized clothes fell off his body. He looked like an Arab heartthrob. He took off the headset and looked at his new body, and smiled. “Damn it feels so good. And, now that I have raised my intelligence score ... I see what you mean. This is the new world.” He smiled. He raised his hand, and small particles of frosted air began to coat his hands in a layer of frost.

“Damn, nice body, bro. Didn't know this was your ideal body. Based on physique and that you have frost magic... you picked wizard.” Erik laughed. “Well isn't it obvious.” Elias said with a wit and sass he never had before. “Bro, I think we should bring this head set to some other people. Give some friends some equally attractive bodies. And, enemies ... something else.” Elias smirked. Erik smiled, “That has to be the smartest idea you've ever had. I'm ready when you are.” He chuckled at the thought of changing everyone that made his life hell. His parents, professor, and more. The two men found some usable clothes and walked out of the apartment to help change the world.

Epilogue: Nathan Black sat in his private jet, on route to his secret bunker. In front of him was a laptop with a hooded figure on the screen. “It's been done.” He raised a glass of wine and drank it. “It took a bit more than a century, but it's done.” He smiled.

The hooded figure spoke. “The gods left behind small tools of power. From rings that could swap bodies, plants that affect a person's age, gems that allow possessions, and so many other small gifts” the figure spoke with annoyance. “They always feared giving humanity true magic. But, I have used those gift to do what they didn't want. The era of magic is among us.” Both men laughed.

[damnfandomproblems]

Fandom Problem #4385:

Its' something where I'm sure the intentions are good, but there's something sort of subtly points to a more twisted worldview -- is that the for a story to be considered "feminist" or "modern" the female lead must renounce romance altogether, or if there is a romance it must be with another woman.

Definitely "settle down with a man" shouldn't be the end all be all of every female protagonist's story, that's not at all what I'm getting at. And yeah no shit there are a ton of hetero romances that are downright misogynistic. This shouldn't be the norm either, but it is unfortunately way too common.

But, when it turns into "the idea of a woman being treated well with both love AND respect by a man is too unrealistic even for fantasy, or centuries into the future. Just be single or if you MUST date someone date a woman." is just pretty....abysmal. That men will ALWAYS oppress women and that this will never change, that he will NEVER see her as an equal partner, that he could NEVER respect a woman he's also dating, that he will ALWAYS see his romantic interest as being inherently beneath him....why? Why is this positive messaging? Why is this framed as progressive?

And DEFINITELY there should be more WLW and more aro / ace rep, (Or, people who don't have a romantic arc not because they're aro/ace but for a multitude of other reasons) I'm not trying to degrade the importance of either. But I hate the framing of "dating women because men are bad" just being accepted as positive lesbian rep instead of "dating women because you like women".

I hate when gayness is portrayed as SOLELY a side effect of sexual inequality. "Men who are gay only because they hardly view women as people" or "Women who are lesbian only because men are oppressive". (Or, the inverse where "ONLY gay men have respect for women because it's impossible to be attracted to someone and respect them at the same time.")

[sissylittlefeather]

Cream (pie) valley

You start working as a nurse at whatever the fuck the name of the boxing place is called in cream valley. Walter keeps getting the shit beat out of him and comes to see you every day. After a few unfortunate events he ends up getting kicked in the balls and comes to you for help, you aren’t expecting much from this baby man, but when he pulls his shorts down you realize his dick is fucking massive. He’s extremely shy about it which just makes him cuter. Things happen and you find out he’s still a virgin and has no idea how to use his massive dick. So you decided to give him a training session if you own to drain his very large very bruised balls in hopes that they’ll feel better (yes this is a breeding thing)

Hey Anonnnn... so I paused my 200 Celebration Requests and wrote this for you. It is so dirtyyyyy but I kinda love it 😂

Warnings: 18+ NO MINORS, kissing, cussing, fingering, oral sex (m&f receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie(s), breeding kink, I think that's all...

Cream(pie) Valley

There aren't too many jobs for nurses in Cream Valley. You have to stay here, though, because who would take care of your mother if you didn't? So, reluctantly, you accept a job working for Willy Grogan's place taking care of the boxers. You're not exactly excited to patch up sweaty, bloody men all the time, but it's a job. It doesn't help that you're young and cute and the only female that isn't Dolly on the premises. It's become like a competition for the guys to see who can get to you first. As such, you've developed a rather chilly demeanor to keep them away. That is, until they bring you Galahad.

After his first sparring match with Joey, his nose and his mouth are both bleeding pretty badly. The guys start to joke with him that he'll have to go see you.

"Ohhh, you're going to have to pay a visit to Nurse Hot Tits!"

"She might be made of ice, but her ass sure jiggles like it's not!"

Walter blushes.

"Aw, no guys, don't talk about 'er like that." He hasn't even met you, but he doesn't like that they're disrespectful.

"You just wait til you see her, Galahad." They laugh and drop him off outside your door. He knocks and nervously waits for you to answer. He's always been a little awkward around pretty girls.

You open the door and it's like he's been punched again in the stomach. He tries to keep his eyes on your face, but he can't help but notice the way your nurse's uniform hugs your curves, accentuating your breasts and hips. He swallows deeply and tries to smile politely.

You're a little taken aback at the sight in front of you. Even with the blood running from his nose, he's beautiful. You're overcome with a need to run your fingers through his hair and slide your other hand down his...

"Hi, ma'am. I'm Walter. They told me you could help me with his." He points to his face.

"Oh! Of course. Come on in, honey." You're shocked by your use of the pet name. But he's as sweet as a baby bunny and you just can't help yourself. He walks into the small office and you help him onto the exam table.

You turn away from him and bend over to get some gauze out of a drawer. His eyes go to your ass and he has to make himself look away. He agrees with the guys that you are indeed attractive, but he would never do anything to make you uncomfortable. It's just not in his DNA to treat women the way other men do.

You come back to him and wipe his face with a wet cloth. Then you roll the gauze up and push it up each nostril. To do this, you have to get pretty close to him. The smell of his sweat and natural musk causes a physical response between your legs. He's even prettier up close. Your hands shake slightly as you wipe his mouth and look at his teeth to make sure nothing is too badly damaged. You have his chin in your hand and it takes everything in you not to lean over and kiss him when you finish.

"Alright. You weren't too beat up. I think you'll survive."

"Well, thank you, ma'am."

"Oh, you can call me y/n- NURSE y/n." You catch yourself just in time.

"Thank you, Nurse y/n." He smiles sweetly again and you try not to melt. You help him down from the exam table and he walks out the front door.

******

When Willy makes the decision to take Galahad to his first fight, he decides you should accompany the team. You've never traveled with them before, but he says you'll be necessary to help patch up Walter after the fight. The idea of this sweet man getting beaten to a pulp doesn't excite you, but you figure being there to help is better than not being there.

You wait in the back for the fight to be over. Watching is just too much even when it's not Walter, but especially when you know he's going to have the shit kicked out of him. Finally, you hear the noise of the crowd cheering. It's over and they'll be bringing him back any second now. You just pray he's not on a stretcher.

And he's not. He's standing up! He won! There's a flurry of activity around him as everyone claps him on the back, but he's still bleeding pretty good. When you see his face, you push all the men out of the way and demand that they let you work.

"Aw, hi, Nurse y/n! Didja hear that I won?"

"I did. Now, let me see you and take care of your face." He smiles sheepishly and sits down for you to examine him. You go to work with gauze while he sits still and lets you do your thing. He can't help thinking, though, that he'd like to put his hands on your hips and pull you into his lap. He adjusts himself in his seat and clears his throat.

"Are you almost finished, ma'am?"

"Yes. I'm done." You stand up and take a step backwards to keep yourself from trying to kiss him. "And what did I say about calling me ma'am?"

"Of course, y/n." He drops the "nurse" and it makes your knees weak. There's something about this man that makes you want to climb on top of him and ride him into oblivion. Maybe it's the fact that he doesn't try to flirt with you. Maybe it's the fact that his seeming innocence feels like a cover for something else. It's like he's hiding something behind his gentle eyes and sweet smile, but you can't quite put your finger on it. You want to put more than a finger on it, but you'll have to wait. He doesn't seem interested in you, really.

Once you've got him all patched up, he stands up and goes back to the group of men who are talking and laughing about the match. He tries to catch glimpses of you cleaning up your supplies when he can, but he doesn't want you to notice him looking.

******

You spend the next few months traveling around with the team for fight after fight and win after win. Still, you always have to clean him up afterwards, and the closeness to him when you do drives you both wild. Neither of you lets on, though, and you continue in chaste friendship.

That is, until you get back to the Catskills. You're sitting in your office with a magazine when you hear a weak knock on the door.

"Y/n? Are you in there? I need... help..."

You rush to the door when you hear Walter's voice and the distress in it, opening it carefully. He stumbles into the office and leans against the exam table.

"Walter, what happened?" His face seems to be fine, but he's obviously in pain.

"We were just messing around, not really practicing, but one of the guys hit me... pardon me, ma'am, but he hit me in... well... between my legs." He winces at the thought of the encounter. You blush, knowing this means you'll have to examine him. You just pray you can keep it professional.

"Okay, well, I'm not sure what all I can do for you, but I'll need to look and make sure there's not any serious damage."

"Oh, um, o-okay." He stands there staring at you.

"You'll need to remove your shorts." He blushes deep red and looks down at himself.

"I-I think I'm okay." The thought of you looking at him naked makes his cock twitch.

"Nonsense. I need to check. Drop 'em." He swallows hard and puts his thumbs under his waistline.

"Are ya sure? I'm feeling much better..."

"Do I need to remove them for you?" You're trying very hard to keep a professional demeanor, but there's a big part of you that really wants to see him. But it's important that you make sure he's not really injured, too. Finally, he slides his shorts down and lets them fall to his ankles, intentionally looking away from you and breathing deeply.

You're very glad that he's looking away because your mouth drops open when you see him. His dick is massive. You've been a nurse (and a woman) long enough to have seen a good number of naked men. But this is unlike anything you've ever seen before. You snap your mouth shut to keep from drooling when it starts to water. You're also very thankful for the thick fabric of your uniform that hides your hardening nipples. You clear your throat, pulling on some gloves, and get on your knees in front of him.

"Okay, I'll need you to-to spread... your legs a bit..." He looks down at you, his heart pounding and shuffles his feet out a bit. The picture of you on your knees in front of him causes him to harden a little. He thinks about anything else trying desperately to keep himself flaccid. But when you put your fingers on him to push him out of the way, he fails miserably.

You gently lift his member out of the way so that you can examine his balls, but when you do, you notice that it gets progressively harder as you touch it. Your stomach flip flops, but you try to stay focused. You gently touch his balls to examine them and he winces.

"Oh, I'm sorry, does that hurt?"

"No..." he whispers. "I mean, yes, a little." The feeling of your fingers gently fondling him is driving him insane.

When you notice how hard his dick is, you realize that you're not the only one feeling the way that you are. Your panties are dripping wet between your legs, matching his erection in desire. You massage him gently and look up at him from your position on the floor. He leans his head back and moans softly. You pull your hands back and he looks down at you suddenly. Yanking your gloves off, you stand up from your position on the floor.

"I think what they need to feel better is... emptying..." His breath catches in his throat.

"Ma'am?"

"You heard me."

"Oh, now I can't do that here in front of ya."

"Well, I could... I could help you... if you want." You can't believe the words that are coming out of your mouth. This is horribly unprofessional, but you don't care anymore. You need to feel him and his immense cock inside you.

He looks at you and his innocence is painfully obvious in his eyes.

"I've never..." It dawns on you that he has no idea what he's got here or how to use it. Well, turns out you're just the woman to teach him.

"That's okay. I can show you... if you'd like..." He nods his head wildly. In this moment, he wants nothing more than to listen to your every instruction and do exactly what you say.

"Show me. Please." You walk up close to him and take one of his hands and put it on the back of your neck. You put the other one around your waist and he pulls you in close, kissing you deeply. He might be a virgin, but he knows what he's doing with his tongue in your mouth. You feel his cock twitch again pressed up against your hip, so you put your hand on him and slowly move it up and down, pulling his foreskin back. He has to stop kissing you to let out the moan that he can't contain.

"Take my dress off." He fumbles with the buttons but eventually gets it off of you. His eyes are as wide as plates when he sees you in your underwear. You go ahead and undo your bra and slide your panties down. Somehow, his eyes widen even more.

"Wow." He whispers as he looks at you standing naked in front of him.

"Put me on the exam table." He picks you up easily by your rib cage and sets your bottom on the table. You've never noticed before that it's the perfect height for him to line his hips up with yours.

"Now, you're going to have to warm me up a little before we do this."

"Warm you up?" You take his hand and push two of his fingers inside you.

"Oh!" He watches as you push them in and out. You move your hand away and lay back as he continues what he's doing. He adds a third finger all by himself and you arch your back and moan.

"Can I? Are you ready?"

You look up at him and he's holding himself while he fingers you, obviously in desperate need to be inside you.

"Yes." He puts both hands on your hips and yanks you to the edge of the table. You yelp a little at this sudden show of dominance and he seems to shock himself.

"I'm sorry-"

"Do not apologize. Now come here." You use your hand to guide his tip to your entrance.

"You're going to need to go slow. You're a little... bigger... than average." You say, which is a complete understatement.

"Okay. Just keep tellin' me what to do." He pushes into you slowly and you feel yourself stretch around him.

"Nope. Stop." You hate to stop him when you see the look in his eyes, but there's no way this will work like this. "I need to be wetter."

You pull back off of him, lick your fingers, and start to massage your clit. He looks at what you're doing.

"I can do that."

"No, you do this part." You take his fingers and push them back inside you.

"Well, what if I..." He moves your hand away from yourself and lowers his face down to you. Then, he uses his tongue to mimic the motions you were just making with your finger.

"Oh my god, Walter!" You grab onto the edges of the table as he licks and sucks your clit. He keeps moving his fingers in and out of you as well. You feel your climax building as he keeps up a steady pace with his tongue while finger-fucking you. He's absolutely relentless in his mission, even though you're not sure he's aware of his goal. Finally, you come hard on his hand, shuddering and pulsing around his fingers, the energy from your orgasm washing over you in waves of pleasure.

"Well, that made you wetter." He laughs a little as you ride out your body high.

"Yeah." You answer, chest heaving. "Okay, try again." You lay back on the table with your ankles on his shoulders while he holds your hips, pushing into you slowly. He grunts as he does it. It's taking everything in him to go slow and not just try to slam into you. Your pussy feels so good around him and he wants more.

You feel yourself stretch to accommodate his girth. You've never felt this completely filled before and he's not even finished yet.

"Wait. Try thrusting a little bit." His eyes light up.

"Are you sure? I don't want to hurt you."

"Yes, I think it'll help."

"Tell me if you need me to stop." He slowly pulls back and fills you again. You moan in unison. He does it again and it feels like you might die with how good it is to have him pushing against you, stretching you out over and over again. As he pushes into you, he goes a little deeper each time. Finally, you feel his hips meet yours completely and his balls slap against your ass.

"Oh fuck!" You cry out and he stops.

"Good or bad?"

"Don't stop! It's so good!"

"Oh thank God. I'm not sure I could stop now." He goes back to pounding into you, now with more force since he knows he isn't hurting you, the sound of his balls against you filling the otherwise quiet office. You cry out with each thrust and you can tell he's getting close by the way he picks up speed.

"Where should I...?"

"Don't pull out. I want to feel you come inside me."

"Are you sure?"

"Put a baby in me, Walter." Something about the way you say it sends him absolutely over the edge and he comes, hard, all over inside you.

"Oh, yes! Y/n, yes!" Even when he's mid-orgasm, he doesn't cuss. You lean forward and pull his mouth down to yours and kiss him. He slides out, still partially erect and you get an idea.

You hop off the exam table and fall to your knees in front of him, dripping with his desire and yours. Holding him still with both hands, you put your mouth around him as far as you can go and he almost falls over on top of you.

"Y/n! What are you doin'?" You lick and suck on as much of him as you can get in your mouth before you answer him. He's holding onto the edge of the exam table groaning when you finally back off of him.

"I haven't had enough of you yet. Have you had enough of me?" He's fully erect again, so you know the answer.

"No." He grabs you and bends you over the exam table. He lines himself up with your entrance and pushes into you from behind. He goes slow, but not nearly as slow as last time. Before you know it, he's filling you fully, slamming his hips into your ass as he fucks you from behind. Again, you're shocked by his dominance, but you don't question it. He grabs the back of your hair and pulls and you cry out in pleasure. You feel his fingers pressing into on your hips and you wonder if he'll leave bruises. Everything about what he's doing has you hoping it goes on forever.

"Yes, fuck, Walter."

"You want my baby?"

"Yes, yes please." You whimper as he pounds into you. It hurts, but in the best way possible and you love every minute of it.

"Say it."

"I want your baby inside me."

When you say that, it pushes him over the edge and he shudders and slams into you one last time, filling you with his seed again.

"Yes! Y/n!" He yells as he moans through his climax. He pulls out of you and staggers to a chair in the office, dropping into it.

"Wow. Walter, I-"

"I'm-"

"-don't you dare apologize. That was incredible." He smiles sheepishly. You stand leaning against the exam table trying to get your bearings back. He gets up and walks to you, wrapping you in a passionate kiss.

"I-I-I'd like to do that again sometime." You lay your head on his broad chest.

"Me too. But not just yet. I need a few days to recover." He laughs.

"Well, I'm here whenever you're ready, honey."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101

Wasn't sure who else would want a Walter tag!

[po11yannaswife]

𝑊𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝐿𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑁𝑜.𝐼𝐼 ๋࣭⭑𝜗𝜚

𖹭 𝑃𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝐺𝑟𝑎𝑦 𝑥𝐹𝑒𝑚!𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 𖹭 ;

𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝐼𝐼 ; 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝐼𝐼 𝑜𝑓 𝑐𝑖𝑟𝑐𝑎 1923-1924

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: 𝑠𝑒𝑚𝑖-𝑎𝑏𝑢𝑠𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑠, 𝑔𝑜𝑟𝑒, 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑛𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑧𝑒𝑑 ℎ𝑜𝑚𝑜𝑝ℎ𝑜𝑏𝑖𝑎, 𝑛𝑒𝑎𝑟-𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ 𝑒𝑥𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑠, 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ, ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑦 𝑑𝑒𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑃𝑇𝑆𝐷.

𝐅𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝟐𝟖𝐭𝐡, 𝟏𝟗𝟐𝟒

I cannot fathom what has happened the last two days.

I am now back in Small Heath and somehow, I'm finding peace in this shit of a place after being in the luxurious area of Warwickshire. Luxurious, yet probably the most chaotic place I've been in for a few years. Well, it was probably the events that happened to cause that. It's actually quite peaceful on the countryside. You can hear and feel the breeze run through your hair, the air smells fresh, the grass is green, there are trees. It's quite beautiful.

The wedding? It was decent. Lovely music, food, alcohol. If I must say myself, I looked absolutely gorgeous. The sapphire clips Grace gave me really were the icing on the cake. And, Polly was there.

But, the Russians had decided this would be a phenomenal day to begin business. It wasn't. I fucking couldn't believe my ears when I heard that the Russians were here, or whatever fucking Refugee. I don't even know if they were an actual refugee or a Bolshevik or a Russian. It's all just a mix. I'm pretty certain Arthur hates himself even more now because his Quaker wife has encouraged religion on him and..murdering someone isn't really, well, religious behaviour, I'd say.

The Russians are already on my nerves. They have left a bad taste in my mouth with just their appearance at a bloody wedding. Tatiana Petronova and her uncle and aunt have arrived in London from Russia, already, as they had to flee. She provided us with ten thousand dollars in cash without much protest, thank the gods. Now that's safe in the vault, which is why I'm back here in Small Heath. Unfortunately.

Ada currently thinks Polly is in love with me, which is absolute bonkers. I always say this when my hypothetical love life with Polly is involved, but what Ada saying is. Polly is completely attracted to men. She was getting fucking swarmed by them last night and I couldn't help but feel absolutely envious. It's normal for men to be like that, y'know, swarm a woman, flirt with her, all that. They get to do that without shame. Me? I'm frowned upon. It isn't normal. It's disgusting and sickening. I should've just danced with the man who offered to feel somewhat normal for once.

Now, I will not deny, I may be crazy, but I think Polly's flirting with me. I think I'm pushing too far with the word flirt. She's really close, borderline flirting. I think she really likes how I get jealous, even though I feel like I'm going to cry and scream and rip my hair out whenever I am. And Gods! This morning! Okay, that had to have been flirting! She was putting the cash onto me and she was handing me a wad to put in my garter, and I swear, that same..feeling came back when she offered to put it in herself. Her hand was running up my leg with that damn smirk. Her eyes, I can't even explain it. All I know is that I felt like I needed something. I am craving it ravenously, but I don't know what I'm craving.

This journal just chronicles my love for her, I swear. This fucking infatuation infuriates me. I hate it. I hate all of it. I love Polly but I hate this. I hate how in love I am with her and how it refuses to pass. I hate how I can't stand another flirting with her and making her smile and laugh. I can't stand how I, a woman, am in love with a woman. I can't stand how this has made me somewhat want to be a man so that I can have her without any of this wreck of emotion. This woman has made me want to take the barrel of my gun and push it to my head and pull the trigger. It hurts. No one understands how much this hurts. I've heard queers go to hell, and I think it's true. I am living my own pure hell that the devil himself has created for a disgusting being like me.

Bloody hell, I should really get a hobby or start working at the betting shop more.

With Love.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Dropping the pen, you flopped yourself onto your bed, lazily kicking your shoes off and getting under the covers. You extended your arm to yank the drapes shut and heavily sighed, finally closing your eyes to get a few hours to sleep. Your droopy eyes finally closed, muscles relaxed, and your brain finally went quiet.

The feeling of being woken up by a hand running through your hair was startling. Panic coursed through you, rushing to take root in your chest, and sweat beads formed on your forehead. Your heart raced once more, pounding against your ribs. The touch, though gentle, felt ominously unfamiliar when surounded in darkness. It almost transported you back to the war, resurrecting the old feelings of paranoia and chronic sleep deprivation. You felt as if you were back in those restless nights, dreading the moment a comrade might shake you awake at the slightest hint of danger. In that moment, you remained frozen, trapped in the grip of your own apprehension.

"Y/n, love," Polly winced as she heard your soft gasp, sensing the tension in your body and noticing your rapid, shaky breaths, which revealed your confusion about the situation and the identity of the person before you. "It's okay. Just breathe, sweetheart, breathe. It's Polly," she whispered soothingly, observing as you slowly turned to face her, inadvertently catching her hand in the process and nuzzling your cheek against it.

"How did you manage to get in?" you mumbled, enfolding her arm in your embrace as if it were a cherished stuffed animal.

Polly huffed, "You have a shit lock. All you have to do is shake the knob and it opens. I have a chair against it currently." You groaned, squeezing your eyes shut. "Tommy was about to break the door. We were looking for you everywhere."

"I've been sleeping for a few hours. Give me a break"

Polly blinked, "You've been sleeping for three fucking days."

The statement woke you up right away and made you jerk straight up, staring at the blankets still covering you. Polly watched you as you realised, lighting a cigarette up. "I've been watching you for a few hours to see if you were dead..or dying."

"W- How-"

"Are you truly asking how, sweetheart?" Polly raised an eyebrow, knowing you also knew the answer to why and how you slept for so long. "Tommy and Grace worked you like a dog without bloody caring if you fucking slept. That's how."

You gazed at Polly, feeling somewhat content that someone had noticed how you felt and the treatment you were receiving. You sucked in a breath, "Thank you."

"For what?"

The room was quiet as you savoured the quiet moment with her as she sat on your bed, her hand inching towards yours and her gaze fixated on you while yours was back onto the blankets. Polly was concerned, but your next statement most likely had increased the emotion.

"For..for caring. Actually caring. Not only caring when I get hurt or threaten to leave..you actually care for me. It's odd."

Polly continued her silence while studying you, a burning cigarette between her fingers. Countless cigarettes were in the ashtray from Polly which had elicited a prominent scent of smoke through the room. You tensed up underneath her appraising gaze and gulped, playing with the rings on your hands. Your body felt awfully uncomfortable since you idiotically didn't change out of your outfit before falling asleep, the straps of your bra irritating you greatly.

Polly noticed, "I looked through your drawers. You have some of the most uncomfortable clothing, I swear," She rolled her eyes. "I brought some of mine here and I am having Ada bring you some from London. New ones."

"Pol, no. I don't want anyone-"

Polly put the cigarette to your mouth, almost like a pacifier to shut you up. "You're getting new clothes, whether you like it or not. Understood? I am no longer allowing you to wear this..rubbish." She put the sleeve of your dress between her fingers, quickly letting go in clear disgust. "We'll give it to the desperate."

"You are ever so kind." You said sarcastically, taking a drag of the cigarette before falling back onto your two pillows.

"Before you get relaxed, go change." She commanded, picking up a stack of neatly folded satin pyjamas, "I know you said gowns made you feel like your mother."

A giggle slipped from your lips as you took the clothing, standing up from the warmth of your bed after days. "Yes, you're correct. They do."

Polly still sat at the chair that was at your desk, continuing a book she must have taken from your shelves since you recognised the binding. You glanced at her yet she didn't notice, causing you to sigh.

Polly looked up with a confused look, "Are you going to change?"

"Well, um, yeah, but-"

"Are you too shy to do so while I'm here?" Polly asked in amusement, with a devilish grin that made your chest flutter. You felt your cheeks warm up as she chuckled, "Oh, love, aren't you just the sweetest..it makes me want to just-"

Polly didn't continue on, biting on the inside of her cheek to stop herself. She cleared her throat, "If you'd like me to go into the den, I can. But I'm assuming you'd need help getting those buttons undone." She nodded to the buttons on the back of your dress. You did need help, so you just turned your back to her instead of verbally expressing she was correct.

A sly smirk graced her lips as she stood up, gently undoing the buttons and exposing your back slowly. Her breathing slowed down when it was exposed enough, her eyes fixated on your smooth skin with scars. On the other hand, you were flushed at feeling how exposed you were, waiting for her to back away.

"Y'know, I can just," You took the shirt and unfolded it, laying it flat on the bed. You unclipped your bra and took your arms from the sleeves of the shirt, the dress laying on your chest. You took the shirt and put it over your head, letting the dress fall to your hips. You slid them off and stepped away from Polly, quickly sliding them onto you. "I used to have to do this as a child since we didn't have separate rooms."

"Mm." Polly hummed, a genuine smile curving on her lips seeing you in her clothes. And you couldn't deny they were much more comfortable than yours. The luxurious satin didn't irritate your skin or make you itch, and it was loose and flowy, not tight like a corset. "I have a bit more tits than you so it's a little loose."

"Christ, Pol! Will you shush?!" You shouted in a hush manner and instinctively folded your arms over your chest. Your cheeks were a bright pink as you looked away from her, "I have more than enough for your information!"

Polly snickered at your dramatic reaction, watching you plop back into your bed. "Do you want me to leave?"

"No," You grumbled into your pillow. "Don't leave."

Polly nodded and sat back down in the chair, watching you curl yourself into a ball and close your eyes. She continued to read her book, occasionally glancing at you.

"How mad is Tommy?" You mumbled, frightened for her to answer since she really didn't hold back on the truth.

"Stop worrying about Thomas."

"I am unable to. He quite actually controls my life. I need to know if he is ready to fire me from my job and hold a grudge against me or give me more work."

"I'll handle him." Polly flipped a page of the book sharply. Polly narrowed her eyes as you rolled your own and sighed. "Do you not believe me?"

You lifted your head up once more, staring up at the wall that had met your headboard as you eyes flickered over the random imperfections of the paint. "I never said I didn't believe you, Polly." In the corner of your eye, you could still see her staring. "But. it is hard to believe Thomas would shrug off my incompetence to work off because you had ordered to do so."

"So, you're underestimating my ability to use my voice with Thomas? Do you think he has all the control?" The statement prompted you to turn your head quickly toward her, perplexed by her conclusion.

"I'm simply pointing out that he can be quite stubborn," you replied.

"Are you so ignorant as to think you understand my nephew better than I do?" Polly chuckled with amusement, leaving you unsure of how to remove yourself from the predicament you'd accidentally created.

"Y/n, how about this, hmm?" Polly closed her book and placed it on your desk, shifting her chair closer to you. "Let the woman who has been part of this company since long before you were born handle it. Would you prefer that, or would you rather face Thomas's anger?"

You let out a heavy sigh, closing your eyes in surrender. "I'll let you handle it."

Polly remained silent for a moment, appraising you with her gaze, her eyes shifting between the bed and back to you. "Good girl."

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡 𝟓𝐭𝐡, 𝟏𝟗𝟐𝟒

I sit here with my pen in hand, and I cannot drag myself away from the thought of Polly. It's as if she sits in my mind and dangles her feet over every other single idea or thought I have and overtakes it like the clouds shadowing the moon, taking away its purpose of glowing in the darkest of nights.

Unintentionally, I slept for three days straight in which I don't know whether to be impressed with myself or disappointed. I suppose I needed the sleep. Polly broke into my home if we are using logical terms here because everyone thought I was dead. Again, I am perplexed on whether that'd be an unfortunate event or the opposite.

In my foolish tendencies as I write this, I want to write all of Polly. Yet, I think that is completely obsessive and improper of me to do so. This is my journal. Yes, I know what you are thinking, me in the future. But the act is preposterous, not even a man who has married a movie star from Hollywood would write this much about her. Then again..it's probably for the sex.

Today I have decided to resume my duties for Shelby Company Limited. I really don't understand why it is called limited when Thomas states quite often that he has no limits. The irony is appalling, really. You kill and kill and rob and kill and fuck and your company dares to have the word "Limited" in it? Maybe I sound arrogant here since Peaky Blinders business is separated from the company. Why do I ramble so much?

I also may have made a mistake. I may have enabled John accidentally to take revenge on Angel Changretta on accident..I was tired. I just hummed and I think I agreed with his point. I mean, I do understand and I would most definitely agree if he weren't so violent. We really don't need more violence. Arson wasn't a great choice, I will not lie.

I pray that Polly has already had her talking with Tommy. I really don't want to be greeted with new bruising, whether to be on my heart and head or on my skin. I mean, how much could really be stacked up for me or expected? What's gonna happen? Am I expected to follow Thomas on a journey to London and share tea time with a Russian royalist?

With Love.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

"I cannot believe you forced me to go to London with you to have tea with a Russian royalist."

The whispered statement caused Tommy to grumble something under his breath. The two of you stepped up the stairs which had led to the Ritz, wearing an outfit he had given you to look your greatest and poshest. A cream white, wool trench-coat was tightened around your waist with a line of buttons, black lace peeking through the neck along with the white satin gloves that decorated your hands. Your hair was curled just slightly as the ends with a string of pearls around your neck. Your heels clicked along the marble floors of the expensive hotel, feeling in place with the rich for once.

"You should feel on top of the world..girls with your background don't go on business in these kinds of places." Thomas stated, in which you had taken offence of that. You glared at him, digging your nails into his arm harshly.

"Are you saying if it weren't for you, my lord and saviour, I'd be some whore on the streets?"

Thomas cleared his throat as a sign he was done with this conversation, squeezing your arm as a reassurement? Or a warning? You couldn't figure that out. You smiled at the receptionist kindly as Thomas began to speak. "I believe you have a reservation for a private room under the name of Mr. Romanov."

The man briefly met your gazes, then cast his eyes downward, appearing visibly troubled. He proceeded to close his eyes, as if bracing himself for what was to come, overwhelmed by a wave of anxiety. He clicked his tongue, "You work for Mr. Romanov?"

Thomas stared at him blankly for a few seconds, leaving you to stand there awkwardly. "Yes."

"For his household or office?"

Thomas sighed heavily, glancing over at you quickly. "Is there a problem?"

The man couldn't look at either of you in the eyes as he began to speak, "I'm afraid without the presence of the Duke Mikhail Michailovich or Lady Lewington, we shall have to ask for payment in advance."

"May I ask why?" You questioned with a soft chuckle in disbelief towards the statement. God knows how much money these people wanted.

The man shifted his gaze to you. "Already, Mr. Romanov has four outstanding bills with us. One for accommodation and three for dining...and two banquets, which we wrote off. We've been asked to be understanding of our Russian friends by His Majesty..but it has been some time now-"

Thomas pulled out a hefty roll of cash from his blazer in annoyance and impatience. You stared at the ceiling before looking to your right, showing your own impatience. The roll of cash elicited a heavy thud, making the man immediately look down and clear his throat.

"..May I ask your name, sir? And you, madam?"

"Shelby."

"Both?"

You opened your mouth to correct it but once more, Thomas squeezed your arm. "Both. Thomas Shelby and Y/n Shelby. And in the future, we will be dining here quite a bit." He flatly confirmed. You looked at him with a perplexed expression.

"Then I shall put you both on our special list." His eyes flickered between you and Tommy, the tension between the three of you high.

"You do that."

"Here is a menu." He handed two menus to the both of you and you carefully took one with a sceptical look, not even shocked at the situation. "I recommend the teal and pork. Although, your guest, I'm sure, will order the caviar."

"Ew." You grumbled under your breath. You quickly smiled at the man again before being led through the glorious halls, still on Tommy's arm, seen now as a Shelby. Unsure of what to think of this, it felt powerful yet draining.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Sitting next to Tommy, you both stared into space as Leon rambled on the stupidest shit. "Myself and my wife and my niece travelled by train, then coach, then on foot through the Villa Ai-Todor in Crimea. On that journey I lost a toe." You pretended to raise your eyebrows in interest, and he smiled. "I don't know, I woke up one morning and it was gone. All of the sudden I saw a dog, and it was eating it." He shoved a piece of toast with the caviar on it into his mouth, causing you to slightly cringe. "They said the British had taken pity on us, and we were taken aboard HMS Marlborough. I immediately kissed the steel deck, my lips froze to it. And then, of course, I thanked God and your King for saving us." He paused, tilting his head. "Though since then, he has done nothing but humiliate me."

"Who? The King or God? Two people of power yet they differ, Mr. Romanov."

He smirked at you, shoving another piece of bread slathered in caviar into his mouth. "Sometimes both, Miss..Shelby." He looked over at Tommy, "So, you've met my niece already, yes? Tatiana." He paused his chronicles of shoving food in his mouth, "Are you in love with her yet, hm?"

Thomas stayed silent and so did you. "You would be wise to not love Russian women, you know. Ah, better not speak of Russian women," Thomas put a cigarette to your mouth, assuming his next words were most likely not going to be the most appropriate for your ears. "Mm, that is the worst thing about being here, Russian women, they know how to hold it and most important, they know exactly when to let go." He stood up to hand Thomas a lighter, which he had lit yours first. "Your cock, I mean. You understand what I'm saying too, Madam. Women are a variety with their practices." You stared at him, quickly taking a drag of the fag.

"English women, they do not know so much. You know?" He stared at you while saying this. You glanced over at Thomas in horror. Thomas stared daggers at Romanov who sat across from you both, a few seconds of silence echoing through the room. He changed the subject, "Did he die well, the spy?"

"He begged for his life like a coward." You replied, blowing the smoke from your lips. "We initially thought he was a Bolshevik, but his last words have left us contradicted."

"Those were?"

You glanced up at him while taking another drag of the cigarette, "He begged for the love of God."

Romanov paused for a second, nodding his head slowly. He stayed silent in which you squint your eyes, looking back at Tommy for him to continue the conversation. Romanov continued the conversation, "I heard you had your brother do the mission. So you trust your family, like me." He paused again, appraising Thomas. "Like us, Mr. Shelby."

Thomas raised his eyebrows and tapped his cigarette on the ashtray, "Let's talk about trust then, shall we?" Thomas put his cigarette back to his mouth as you watched him. "You are not a direct relation to the Romanov's, you are Georgian."

Leon didn't like the straight forwardness, clearly, as he gripped a glass so hard that it had shattered. You didn't jump but you had winced, taking a generous gulp of the alcohol that was given to you and chasing it with a puff of your cigarette. Leon carefully dropped the shards of glass and wrapped his hand with a cloth, and Thomas wasted no time to continue.

"And the palace where you live in Hampton Court is, in fact, a grace and favour house donated to you, rent-free by the British Crown." Leon looked distressed and frustrated, not willing to make eye contact with you nor Tommy. "The maître d' here, tells me that you are in some debt. Both here and other places, I'd imagine."

Thomas looked at you to continue, and you couldn't stop your voice from being slightly shaky. "We have been given 10, Mr. Romanov, but we were promised 40. Already, we have had to have a man killed. You do understand that that type of dirty work does not come for cheap, especially since it caused such a disturbance on such a significant day." The man couldn't even look at you, while you were trying to make some sort of eye contact with him by lowering your gaze. "You do understand our points here, yes? Or shall I explain in a more simpler detail?" The tone of your last sentence was borderline condescending, but he was acting like a child since he had gotten caught. You can't act like a child in business.

Leon shifted his gaze up towards you with his jaw clenched and his eyes full of pure..belittlement. Thomas and you stared back at him with the same energy. Leon began to stand up, "Let me tell you something, Mr. and Miss. Shelby," He dragged his seat all the way to the other side of the table, sitting next to Thomas. "Before we boarded the ship, my niece sewed 16 diamonds into her velvet dress, and she also had two sapphires in her intimate places," As Leon said this, he pulled out a perfect sapphire out of his pocket. Tommy's eyes fell onto the stone immediately. "My wife managed two sapphires and five diamonds. This is already for the killing of the spy and a down payment on future services."

Thomas nodded his head, looking like he was impressed. You leaned over to inspect the stone more carefully, your reflection bouncing off the sapphire. Tommy grumbled. "Now, tell me, where you keep these things? In a bank?" He lifted his cigarette to his lips.

Leon opened his mouth slightly, "How could we plead poverty around London society if we used banks, Mr. Shelby?"

Tommy nodded his head again, and you had decided it was you turn to speak. You sucked in a breath, "Well, you should know that Hatton Gardens isn't the mere safest."

"Which is why we have our own treasury, madam." He replied swiftly, glancing at you.

Thomas looked at you, eyeing Leon after a second. "Very well. I shall have my people check its veracity." Tommy took the sapphire from Leon's hand swiftly and put it in the pocket in his blazer. At the same time, you had reached out for the lighter to light up one last cigarette, which was a mistake on your part when your wrist was slammed down by Leon's hand. Now you were in an uncomfortable position, leaning halfway over the table and stuck. He glared at you, then Tommy.

"Before the revolution, we were soft and weak. We made compromise. But let me tell you. We will never be soft and weak again. Do you both understand?" The two of you had remained silent, silent agreement for one. Leon nodded after gazing at you both for what had seemed like minutes.

He lifted his hand off of your wrist, and you snatched it back to yourself. "Good day, Mr and Miss Shelby."

Thomas shook his head in silence, rising from his seat. He extended his hand to assist you, and you accepted graciously, all the while maintaining your intense gaze on Leon. As Thomas guided you, you both exited the room without exchanging a single word.

Upon returning to the car, you wasted no time, reaching out your hand expectantly. "Show me."

Tommy glanced at you, his eyes rolling before he handed over the stone. You took it carefully and inspected it closer as he began to drive out of London. Your eyes dilated at the stone.

"Is your hand okay?" Tommy inquired with a flat tone, casting a disgruntled glance in your direction.

"It's fine. Bit of a cunt move of him, though." you responded with a touch of disdain.

Thomas, in an attempt to steer the conversation away from the topic, hummed and said, "Ada mentioned she'd like to meet Anton again."

The unexpected statement prompted you to turn your head, and a chuckle escaped your lips. "Did you explain to her that the only way to do that is by taking her life to meet him in hell?"

"I told her it wouldn't be possible. She insisted he was 'nice'... as if we're in the business for 'nice'," he remarked as you retrieved a velvet bag and carefully placed the jewel inside, setting it on your lap. "She's too nice for these parts of business."

You let out a thoughtful hum, your brows furrowing as you examined your chilled, blue nails. "Any more information on the Changrettas?" you inquired.

Thomas grunted, a hint of exasperation in his voice. "The whole bloody feud has reignited, especially with John's fixation on taking out Angel. I had Polly try to talk some sense into him."

Your laughter bubbled up again. "You boys, still clinging to your youthful misbehaviour, need your dear aunt to rein you in. Quite entertaining, really."

"And you haven't gotten almost killed by her for misbehaviour?" Thomas met your gaze with a raised eyebrow.

You rolled your eyes and shifted your attention to the cold, frost-covered window. "She was just overreacting," you mumbled. "John risking starting a war is something worth to be talked of. We can't trust John to not do so. We cannot handle Sabini's chronicles. The Changrettas." You shook your head, beginning to light up a cigarette. "Too violent, these Italians."

"Like we can't fucking handle them. We run the fucking city."

"With that attitude of superiority and arrogance, we will get run over by them." You replied sharply, taking a drag of the cigarette. "John carries the most of those traits."

The rest of the car ride was silent, between the smoke of countless lit cigarettes and huffs and puffs. By the time you had gotten home, you were already exhausted enough to sleep for a week straight.

Entering the house, you dragged yourself right to your bedroom, snatching the bottle of whiskey from your desk and taking a lazy swig. You fell back onto your bed, wincing at the springs felt through the mattress. You stared at the ceiling, desiring to close your eyes and succumb to exhaustion, but you couldn't. For some reason, you knew it'd be a waste of time even trying.

And you were right. Hearing your door burst open, you immediately jerked up and your hand flew to your desk for your gun, cocking it instantly and backing into your bed. The footsteps were familiar though, still, your gun was aimed at the closed door to your bedroom.

Thomas opened your door more gently, letting it slowly swing open. His tongue was poking through his cheek, blinking at your position. You glared at him, dropping your gun and head. "What. Now?"

"Family meeting."

"One, am I really needed? And two, you broke into my fucking house just for that?"

"Yes and yes. Now, come on. Bring the whiskey." He pointed to the bottle on your desk before leaving the room. You quickly stood back up, taking the whiskey and putting your gun tucked into your garter. You ran after him as he strode much quicker than you, confusing clear.

"What is going on? You dropped me off forty fucking-"

"John."

And that's how you knew he didn't listen.

There you sat, nervously puffing on a cigarette at the table inside the betting shop. The floorboards creaked beneath you as Arthur paced behind, creating an air of tension. You occupied the left end of the table, with Polly closest to you, engrossed in her reading. Occasionally, you noticed her glances, which you acknowledged. Your chin rested in your hand, and your heel tapped an anxious rhythm on the floor.

Finn and John made their entrance, with John sporting a noticeable air of guilt. Everyone's attention turned to them, and Polly closed her book. "All right, Finn. Thanks for coming, now fuck off," grumbled Arthur.

Finn started to walk away, but Thomas stormed closer, asserting, "Finn, you can stay." The boy turned around and leaned against the wall beside John, who was then instructed to take a seat. "Sit down, John. Sit down," Thomas commanded, his tone sharp.

There was a moment of silence and you cursed silently when your cigarette burnt out. "John, you cut Angel Changretta." John huffed, and Thomas sharply inhaled. "Even though Arthur told you to apologise," Polly noticed your struggle as your lighter wasn't lighting up, putting down her cup of tea. "Polly told you to compromise. Y/n told you to compromise before them. But, you didn't listen to Mr. Apologise or Mrs and Mrs Compromise. And now I've got an Italian walking around in my backyard saying he's going to kill my brother." Thomas paused, and you were still fighting with your lighter.

"So what do we do, John? Do we apologise, or do we compromise?"

John puffed his cheeks out, not knowing what to say. You stared at him, pausing your lighter shenanigans to do so. "Oh, it was just something John said as a joke." Arthur defended. Polly, Tommy, and you all glared at him.

"Yeah, but he's your brother too, Arthur." You stated with a cigarette still in your mouth that was not burning.

"Yeah.." He mumbled, "I know I didn't want to start a war over something John said without meaning it.

Thomas looked to the side in utter frustration. He was lost in this conversation. He blinked for a moment blankly before looking back at all of you, using his hand to help him speak. "So, should he apologise in Italian or in English?"

All of you now stared at Tommy, and your desperation for a lighter was worse. You gazed at him in disbelief, your eyes fluttering shut. Polly seemed to be disappointed, Arthur didn't know what to say and neither did John. Thomas squinted his eyes and mockingly said towards Arthur, "Or should we ask them which fucking language they prefer? I'm not clear enough."

Polly seemed to have enough and moved in her chair, pointing a finger. "You said while this business was going on in London, you wanted peace at home."

"The only way to guarantee peace is by making the prospect of war seem hopeless. If you apologise once, you do it again and again and again. Like taking fucking bricks out of the wall of your fucking house." Thomas explained while Polly continued her looks of disbelief, shifting her gaze at you. "Do you want to bring the house down, Arthur?"

Arthur grunted, and Thomas continued. "If you're soft on rebellion, it'll grow."

You winced when Arthur stood up, "Bloody "soft on rebellion"."

Thomas turned to John and nodded, "You did the right thing, John. Now, we go on the offensive. We'll take control of two of the Changretta pubs tonight. That's our plan."

Polly chuckled sarcastically, her tone sharper, "Oh, really? For heaven's sake, why?" Her voice now carried more frustration.

Tommy abruptly halted and turned back, clearly taken aback by her question. "Hey?"

"Why?" Polly persisted.

You let out an exasperated mutter, dropping your head onto the table, a sense of resignation washing over you.

Tommy responded forcefully, "Why? Because we can, Polly! Because if we can, we will. And if we lift our heels off their necks now, they'll just come after us, and that includes you!" He pointed at you, and you glanced over at him without saying a word. His booming voice left your ears ringing. "Remember, these are the bastards who wanted Danny Whizz-Bang dead."

Thomas locked eyes with Arthur, who had resumed pacing. "You're getting soft, brother. Soft and weak. Save the Bible for Sundays, all right?" The tension in the room sent shivers down your spine as their stare-down continued. The silence seemed to stretch on for hours before Thomas finally spoke again.

"Finn, I need to go to Hockley and then head home. It's been a long day." Finn promptly exited the room, focusing his attention on Arthur.

Thomas turned to John, reiterating, "You take the Wrexham, and you take the Five Bells. Get them signed over to us by morning, and make sure the coppers stay away." He began to leave but turned back, adding, "And don't use the fucking phones, all right? There's someone listening, and I can't afford another screw-up."

And with the subtle insult, he left the room. And then Arthur.

All who was left was you, Polly, and John. Your head was still resting on the table as you heard Polly loudly slurping her tea, glaring at John as a way to tell him that he fucked up. Soon after, he left the room, leaving you two alone.

Polly sighed before closing her book once more, turning her chair towards you. Her fingers went for the cigarette that was next to your head and put it between her lips, taking her own lighter and lighting it up. She then, gracefully, put it to your mouth, waiting for you to latch on.

You glanced up at her, her eyes already on yours. You took the cigarette and leaned your head on your chin, taking a drag of the cigarette. "Thank you."

Polly ran her fingers through her hair, humming. It was silent between the two of you as you both smoked, occasionally taking sips of your whiskey. Your stomach had begun to grumble, even with the hearty meal of cigarettes and alcohol. Note the sarcasm.

"You should stay at my place for the night," Polly stated abruptly, causing you to look up at her. "For your safety. It's safer at my home, and you'd have a bigger room and lavatory. I don't need you getting caught up into this mess."

You blinked, speechless for a moment. "You're worried for..me? Getting into messy business?"

"Yes," Polly replied, "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, I regret to inform you that it's a bit too late to be attempting to do so. I do, wholeheartedly, appreciate the consideration, though." You stated with a warm smile and regretful tone with a slight chuckle, not attempting to sound snarky though it slightly sounded like it. Polly stared at you, your warm smile quickly dissolving into a regretful frown.

"Then you can go back to your place, where the door can open with a single kick and the windows are as thin as you." Polly stated, looking back down at the newspaper in front of her. You stared at her now, rolling your eyes.

"I'll manage, Pol. Thanks though."

Yeah. Manage by pushing your dresser against your bedroom door, sitting up straight in your bed against your headboard, your gun laying right next to you which was loaded and ready, god forbid.

With the blend of working with the Russians and the "business" that was occurring currently, your fears increased more and more, and sleep had become something that was almost a treat. If you got to sleep, you were lucky. Instead, you were here, waiting until the sun began to peek from the windows.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

"We need to talk."

Here you stood in front of Tommy, visibly concerned. Thomas Shelby was distressed. Beads of sweat rolled down his temples, his breathing was slightly ragged, and he couldn't stop fidgeting with his hands as he sat at his desk. It was past midnight, your hair slightly drenched from the rain, and your clothes messily thrown on. The four words he had uttered over the phone had brought you here, in front of him.

"What happened, Tom?"

He sucked in a breath, pursing his lips, his eyes fixed on his desk. "They got in."

"You've got to be more specific there."

He looked up at you, then took a card out of his pocket and handed it to you, avoiding your gaze as you read it. You needed to double-take, frozen as you saw "Charles Shelby, R.I.P" on the back of a crematorium card. "Found that under Charles's pillow."

"Who-"

"Hughes. He's most likely as dangerous as the Russians," he cut you off. "He took me to a fucking clandestine location. Hughes knows about our dealings with the Russians," he paused, gritting his teeth. "He wants us involved in the Economic League."

"You can't be serious?" Thomas finally looked up at you, and your heart sank.

You took a deep breath and sat down on one of the leather seats. "Does Grace know any of this? Does anyone else?"

"No."

"So why are you telling me, Tommy?"

"Because I knew you'd understand the situation faster than Arthur or Pol." Thomas bit his fist, leaning back in his chair. "Hughes will kill us all if I don't do this."

Wide eyed, you sat there with your hand covering your mouth as he continued, "He wants our power and to have control over the business and us."

"Surely he can't, Tom." You stated quickly, adjusting yourself in your seat so you were leaning forwards.

Thomas shook his head, "He and fucking Scotland Yard raided the fucking betting shop today, and he got a fucking funeral home card under my sons fucking pillow." His finger pointed at you and the sound of rain hitting the windows was the only sound interrupting the silence. He stared at you, "So what else can he do?"

Silence. Rain pattering. Clocks ticking. Fire crackling. That is all your brain could hear as your eyes slowly trailed back down, falling back into your seat, trying to come up with a solution. But, there wasn't any in sight. Not any that you nor Thomas would be happy about.

"He will take down the business, the family, our political stance, everything, if I don't do this." He finally stated, cracking his knuckles and clearing his throat.

Glancing up at him, you gulped. "You have no one else to convince but yourself, Tom. You're the boss, here, yeah?"

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡 𝟐𝟑𝐫𝐝, 𝟏𝟗𝟐𝟒

Sometimes I really ask myself, was associating myself with this family worth it? I hate asking that question, because they have saved me. But, am I so wrong for questioning the arms that saved me from one extreme situation, bringing me to another extreme?

John Hughes has become more violent and more dedicated to getting what he desires. He has successfully frightened Thomas, which not every man can do, I can assure. And no doubt, I am just as frightened. I don't know how much he is capable of, though, I do know it is a substantial amount, because he somehow got a crematorium advertisement card under Charles' pillow. Whoever works for him is skilled, and I do not know if he have dealt with this type of situation before.

I have not spoken to Polly about this. Thomas confided in me and I respect that. The burden is heavy on my mind, but I do have a busy day. Grace and Tommy are hosting a charity gala, and I'm more so excited because I do not have to help host. I can simply get ready, and talk to people. Isn't that wonderful?

I hope tonight is a break from everything around me.

With love.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

With that hope in mind, you continued your day, the night announcing itself and your glamoured up self showing up in the mirror once more, the repeat of the sapphire clips in your hair weighing less than the burden on your mind. An ivory dress covered your figure, sheer light pink lace covering the skirt of it that had lightly grazed the floor as you walked.

You sped into the car that was awaiting you, adjusting the straps of your heels when you got in. As always, the drive was quiet, not having much interest in communicating with the driver. You gave him a tip as you left the vehicle.

The sounds of people chattering and laughing greeted you along with the warm lighting of the big room, entering in timidly. Your eyes searched for familiar faces in the crowds, finding a few and offering a small smile at them if they even saw you.

You turned your head to the waiter who was circulating with glasses of champagne and gracefully took one. In doing so, you noticed Polly admiring herself in the mirror. Unbeknownst to you, she saw you observing her as well, until her eyes met yours in the reflection. Her smile slightly faltered, not into a frown, but as if she was thinking. After a few moments she had turned around, her smile once returning.

"Look what the cat dragged in," She teased as she walked towards you. You smiled, relieved, and mesmerised by her.

"Hi, Pol." You greeted softly as she gave you a quick kiss on the cheek, "You look gorgeous. The gown and yourself."

Polly stepped back and grinned at you, taking a glass of champagne while her eyes appraised you approvingly. "Same to you, darling." Her lipstick printed on the glass, your mind unable to stop the thought of desire of her leaving her print of lipstick on your neck..and the fingers grasping onto the glass to take off the ever so uncomfortable dress-

"Oh, god."

"Hm?"

"I don't like that look."

Polly's statement prompted you to follow her gaze. When you did, you locked eyes with Thomas, whose cold stare held yours with an intense grip. His gaze then shifted to Father Hughes, who had just entered the room and was helping himself to some champagne. Polly observed you closely, noting the colour drain from your face and your body language change almost immediately. You watched as Thomas walked over to the doors of another room, and your eyes fixed straight ahead once he was out of sight.

"And I don't like that look either," Polly quipped, her tone lowering a few octaves. "What the bloody hell is going on?"

"Nothing." You had said that it was a bit more high pitched than normal, avoiding Polly's burning gaze. Her eyebrow was raised as you timidly looked at her, taking a huge gulp of your champagne. "I'm going to go get some more of this..you have some fun, yeah?" You trailed off without another word, feeling Polly watching you as you moved.

As you were walking deeper into the crowd, you accidentally bumped your shoulder into somebody, leaving the leftover champagne in your glass to splash onto your dress. You gasped, immediately turning to apologise.

"Oh, Y/n! God, I apologise." Grace had stated softly, taking the glass from your hand trying to figure out what to do.

You put a hand up, "It's alright, it'll dry. It was my fault anyway," You laughed off nervously, turning your head to a jewelled up, gorgeous woman in front of you.

Grace had put her hand lightly on your back, "This is Y/n, Y/n, this is Duchess Tatiana Petrovna. Isn't this wonderful?"

You awkwardly smiled, looking away briefly, "Jesus Christ.."

"Pleased to meet you, Ms. Y/n." Tatiana stated with a hint of amusement in her voice. "I've heard of you."

"Is that right?" Your voice cracked, "Can say the same for you!"

Tatiana was getting ready to say something when Thomas joined in on the conversation. You glanced at him and he glanced at you, noticing your slightly wide eyes. He looked over to Grace, who excitedly introduced Tatiana to Tommy, who cleared his throat. "Come on Tommy, aren't you impressed to meet a real duchess?"

"Well, I understand they charge a fee."

Tatiana was taken aback, lightly gasping. "Mr. Shelby, you are very direct."

"Too direct," Grace commented. Your nails dug into your elbows, the tension making you desperate to know what had occurred in the other room with Father Hughes.

"But it's true. I attend these events for the champagne... and for the chance to be treated like a duchess again." Tatiana turned her attention to Tommy. "You should have kissed my hand, Mr. Shelby."

Thomas paused, his gaze shifting from Tatiana's eyes to her outstretched hand and then back to her face. "Forgive me," he said dryly. He took her hand and kissed it, the gesture stiff and mechanical. Grace and Tatiana maintained unbroken eye contact, the air thick with unspoken tension.

"She was asking about my sapphire," Grace continued.

"I thought I recognised it," Tatiana replied smoothly. 

Yeah. Because you had it in your intimate areas, Tatiana.

"She said it was Russian. My husband has business in Russia... perhaps you know about it, Tatiana?" Grace's words were edged with suspicion. You bit your tongue, unable to contain your anxiety. You grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and took a long drink. Tatiana watched you with wide, amused eyes, while the waiter glanced back, slightly confused.

The awkwardness in the room was palpable, each second stretching longer as the unspoken words hung heavily in the air. "Well tonight is not about business, eh?"

"Is that why you were in the concert hall for about 10 minutes?"

"I think people are ready for dinner now, Grace." You gave a fake smile to Tatiana, who was listening to the conversation.

"No, no, I'm not done pumping people for money."

Tatiana cocked her head, "What is 'pump for money'"? Her Russian accent thickened with a small smile.

"It's what I do everyday." Thomas cut in, bored at this point and wanting the conversation to be over. And you couldn't lie, you wanted it over as well.

"You know each other, yeah?" Grace questioned knowingly, "You see, I am in charge of compiling the guest lists, but it is my husband who seems to know all of them."

"I hear he is very well connected."

Grace gritted her teeth, her frustration coming to the surface, "Now where does a duchess hear that?"

"In certain circles!" Tatiana answered almost condescendingly and you had laid your hand on Grace's shoulder, gently holding her back.

"Alright, that is enough. Ada?-"

"Grace, there is a Lady Dowager who wants to talk to you about coffee mornings. She had mentioned a 2,000 pound cash donation." Ada spoke softly so her words were only a whisper, and that had convinced Grace to finally leave the conversation, giving Tatiana a nod.

Finally, you could turn your attention to salvaging your dress. You tried to soak up the spilled champagne, looking around for a cloth. The conversation behind you continued, but you were more concerned about saving your dress from stains—it was far too nice to be ruined.

A few seconds later, you felt a cold hand grip your shoulder hard. Instinctively, your hand readied to swing at whoever had grabbed you, until you heard Thomas's urgent voice, "That fucking sapphire needs to get off Grace, fucking now."

"What?" you responded, your concern piqued by his tone. He released you, his eyes scanning the room for Grace. Without hesitation, you followed, lifting the skirt of your dress and speed-walking through the crowd, your eyes fixed on the familiar sight of her soft blonde hair.

By the time you reached them, Tommy was already with her, but his attempts at persuasion were failing as she twisted and turned away from him.

"Grace," You said, stepping down the stairs and moving through the crowd as they all raised their glass. "Please, let me take the necklace off. Please."

Grace turned her head, "Oh, are you trying to give it to Tatiana too?" Thomas took her chin and said a few words to her, and you stood there awkwardly, trying to manoeuvre how to get it off as easily as possible. Then they started kissing, and well, that had made it even more awkward.

"Hey, loves, I'm just going to-"

"Shall we go inside?"

"Can I please get this off?" You almost cried, beginning to get frustrated.

"You can once we get inside."

There was no inside.

There was none.

Life flashed before your eyes as you looked over Grace's shoulder, watching as a man with a gun pushed Polly out of the way, and yelling the words 'For Angel'.

he gunshot echoed through the room, reverberating off the walls. In an instant, Grace's weight collapsed into yours, pulling you down to the cold, unforgiving floor with the dying woman cradled in your arms. You could barely process the sight of Thomas still standing, a few drops of blood staining his glove. He quickly knelt beside you both, his face a blend of shock and desperation.

Your chest heaved, each breath a struggle. The sounds around you blurred into an unbearable cacophony. Your vision was a disorienting mix of brightness and haze; it felt as though you could see everything and nothing all at once. Amid the chaos, your gaze remained fixed on Grace's face. Her once-pristine dress now a vivid stain of red, a horrific contrast against her pale skin. Her blue eyes, the same eyes that had so captivated Thomas Shelby, now locked onto yours, a haunting mix of pain and fading life.

Desperately, you pressed your hand against the wound, trying to falter the relentless flow of blood. But it was useless. Panic surged through you, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. You felt as though you were drowning, submerged in the deep, endless ocean of Grace's eyes, unable to surface. Your body shook uncontrollably as you watched the life drain from her, helpless to stop it.

Thomas's voice cut through the fog, screaming for an ambulance, his cries filled with anguish. Around you, the room descended into pandemonium. Guests scrambled to escape, their footsteps a chaotic drumbeat against the floor. In the midst of the frenzy, Arthur and John were a chaos of fury, mercilessly beating the man who shot her to death.

Nothing made sense. The world was spinning out of control, a nightmare from which you could not wake. The weight of Grace in your arms, the spreading pool of blood, the frantic movements and screams. all of it melded into a surreal, horrifying picture. It felt like the ground had vanished beneath you, leaving you suspended in a hellish void.

Tears burned at your eyes, watching helplessly as Grace's blood soaked through your dress. You were powerless to stop it. Frozen like a deer in headlights, you held onto her, feeling her weight pulling you to the cold, unforgiving floor. You finally lifted your head to look at Thomas. He was silently crying, his face resting in her stomach, his hands shaking. The act of breathing became a torturous burden, each gasp for air was a agonising struggle that only deepened the ache in your chest.

Drowning. You were still drowning.

A gloved hand grasped your shoulder—Polly. Her eyes locked onto yours, filled with sorrow and urgency. She watched as you drowned in despair, unable to tear your gaze away from Grace, her blood seeping into every fibre of your dress. Your body shook, consumed by shock and the suffocating weight of grief, each breath a desperate gasp that never seemed to be enough. 

"Someone fucking get me somebody! Somebody!"

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

"She passed on."

You sat on the edge of your guest bed. You couldn't move without Polly basically dragging you. Your hands clawed at each other, yours and Grace's dried blood mixing. You were silent, because there were no words you could say.

"Is there anything I can do, Y/n? Anything?" Polly questioned calmly, her hand stroking your hair back.

"Get me out of this fucking dress." You whispered so, so quietly, Polly could barely understand what you were saying. Nonetheless, she nodded. "Just, just get me fucking out."

"Are you sure you want m-"

"Get me out of this fucking goddamn dress!" you screamed, abruptly standing up and frantically trying to undo the zipper yourself. Your hands shook uncontrollably, and tears streamed down your face. Polly quickly intervened, trying to calm you down.

"Y/n, Y/n, look at me." You felt her tight grip on your shoulders, her hands moving to your wrists to hold your hands in place. You stood in front of her, repeating the three words. "I know, okay? I know. But, you need to stay still so I don't hurt you even more."

You were drowning again, Grace's eyes haunting you already. You couldn't breathe, god, were you even worthy of breathing right now? Grace was gone. She was gone. She died on your dress, your body. The feeling of her weight being pulled off of you repeated. You kept sinking in these thoughts, until you heard a sharp yell of your name.

"For god sake, look in my eyes. Look."

Polly's voice snapped you out of the drowning. Brown eyes, hers were brown. Brown like the wood you burned for fire that had kept you alive in the winters, or brown like the coffee you sipped on in the morning to keep you awake for the day. Polly's eyes were brown. You stared into them, feeling the ability to breathe again slightly. "I'm right here. You are here." Her voice slightly cracked, her one hand leaving its grip from your wrist to wipe the tears off your cheek. "You are safe, love. It is just you and I."

Polly watched as you swallowed, unable to say much except for your slight nod. Polly sighed, dropping her head. "May I please, please clean you up? I can't allow you to sleep like this."

Your hands were dried with Grace's and yours blood, and so were your arms. Your neck was stained red from when the gunshot punctured Grace. It looked like you had just murdered someone, or you survived a brutal murder.

You blinked tears away, giving a gentle nod again. Polly let out a sigh of relief, "Okay. We're just going to go across the hall, yeah?"

The feeling of when your dress was pulled off of you by Polly was a wave of emotions going through you. And entering the hot bath made you wince, covering your chest with your hands and your knees to your chest as well. Polly kneeled beside the bathtub with a rag in hand, gently moving your hair out of the way to scrub the blood off of your neck first.

"You know, I've never understood how one's life could end...so quickly. Even with being in this business for years," You spoke quietly, water trickling down your shoulder. Polly gazed at you, "How does a rich life end in an instant to a single bullet?"

"I don't know, sweetheart." Polly scrubbed at your collarbones, "I'd say it is a part of God, and what he plans for us."

You sat quietly, listening to water trickling and voices from downstairs. Polly breathed calmly, watching you think. You thinking at that moment was a bad idea, because the question that was voiced from your mouth had devastated Polly.

"Why couldn't the bullet hit me? I'm not a mother, a sister, anything..why couldn't it be me, Polly?"

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Days went by and you never left the bed except to go comfort Charlie who was only across the room. You had missed the funeral, you couldn't bear to look at her again. More guilt would rush back, and you couldn't handle that. Thomas hadn't even spoken to you since the gala, and you didn't even know if you were ready to yet.

The days were dark and gloomy, the sound of rain pattering against your windows heard much too often. When you weren't sleeping or sobbing into your pillow, you stared outside, wondering where Grace was, wondering if she had forgiven you and Thomas. Did she hate you? Did she hate the fact that you had to comfort her baby and she couldn't? You knew you had despised yourself for that, so no shock would appear if she did too.

The gun placed on the dresser across the room had caught your eye too many times to count, the more you gazed at it, the more you wanted to use it against yourself. But that'd be terrible, wouldn't it? Finding another bloody scene in Thomas Shelby's very own home, where you'd lie in your puddle of misery and desperation to get out of your mind. It'd be horrific when someone found you in that puddle. God, could you even imagine?

You didn't want to. And that is why you always tore your eyes away from the weapon.

The sound of Charles patting on the door caused you to stand up, grasping onto the wall for a slight second to recollect yourself from dizziness. You opened the door wide enough so you could pick him up, bringing him into your bedroom and laying him next to the pillow you slept on. He gave you a wide grin as you got into the bed with him, playing with a wooden toy he had left in the room hours before.

"Car."

"That's right. It is a car." You commented tiredly, giving him the best smile you could. "And what's this?" You picked up a wooden cat, his eyes brightening.

"A cat!"

"Exactly, kiddo."

"Where the fuck is my son?!" Thomas's voice boomed from the hallway, which your head snapped towards. Next thing you knew your door handle turned and then entered Thomas, obviously panicked. He saw Charlie and took a deep breath, standing in the doorway.

You didn't say a word to him, picking up Charlie and saying "Go with your daddy now, and tell me how many cars you see when you get back, yeah?" Charlie smiled brightly again as you handed him off to Tommy, giving Charlie a small kiss on his cheek. Tommy stared at the floor for a moment, holding Charlie in his arms.

Thomas cleared his throat, not saying anything, only giving a curt nod as he left your bedroom. Your eyes trailed down as the door closed.

The silence was exhausting, well, everything was exhausting. Each step across the creaking floorboards felt laborious as you made your way to get your pack of cigarettes and lighter. Struggling with the lighter once again, you eventually succeeded in igniting the cigarette. Standing there, you began to rock back and forth on your heels, your gaze drifting toward the window.

Suddenly, a glimmer caught your eye, the bleak daylight reflecting off the sapphire clips. A wave of overwhelming nausea surged through you as the sight of the beautiful jewels had become a haunting reminder. The only thought that consumed you was that Grace had given you those clips. The single sight of sapphires now turned your stomach, upbringing the image of the necklace she wore, its radiant blue gem tainted with her blood.

The sudden sounds of the boys screaming and yelling from below snapped you out of the drowning feeling, stepping towards the window and seeing a wagon leave the Arrow House premises, watching as Arthur and John and Finn chased after them. It was followed by the faint sound of Polly telling them to let him go, a shaky sigh leaving your lips as you took a puff from the cigarette.

Only minutes later you heard three knocks at your door, which were useless since the door opened anyways before you even spoke. You didn't turn around, hearing Polly's throat clear. "Hey, sweetheart,"

Polly stepped closer towards you, her heels clicking against the wood. You felt her hand fall on your shoulder, "You know, you're supposed to smoke the cigarette while it is burning."

Your gaze shifted to your left, where a snarky smile tugged at her lips, You took a drag of the cigarette, "Wise words, Polly."

Polly hummed, quietly resting her chin on top of your head. You tensed up slightly before relaxing into her touch. Because this was definitely what normal friends did. Definitely platonic. "Tommy is going to Wales..he'll be back in 3 days time." You hummed, "He took Charlie with him."

"I know," you whispered, taking another puff of the cigarette. "He came in here and took him. His toys are still on my bed." You paused, "Why aren't you downstairs with everyone else? I'm sure they're celebrating."

Polly was still using your head as a support as she spoke, "I'd much prefer being with you than the boys, love."

Just two super close gals talking. That is what you repeated in your head, trying to convince yourself you were insane for thinking she was flirting. "If that is alright with you, I could leave you alone-"

You felt Polly backing away, in which your instincts had ran ahead of your mind when your hand snatched her arm, swiftly turning around and pulling her back. "No, please don't leave me alone. Please."

Polly's eyes went wide with surprise, but as she read the regret etched across your face, her expression softened, and she nodded slowly. "Alright, alright, I'll stay. I'm here as long as you need me. Okay?" Polly reassured you gently, placing her cold hands on your cheeks. "I'm not going anywhere, doll. No need to panic."

Your lip began to quiver, and tears stung at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over. "What if-" You paused, struggling to take a deep breath, each inhale a struggle. "What if that isn't true? What if you get hurt? Like-like suddenly. We never thought Grace was going to be killed so soon, but here we are. What if that happens to you, Polly? What-what if?"

Polly remained silent, her eyes closing as she pulled you into her embrace, your head resting against her chest. She didn't have the words to reassure you that nothing would ever happen to her, how could she, when this was the life they had been raised into? There were no guarantees of safety, no promises she could make to make your fears disappear into thin air. She didn't even know how to calm that worry within herself. Yet, she held you tightly, understanding that her reassuring you at the moment was much more important than reassuring herself.

"I will never choose to leave you, sweet girl," she whispered into your hair, her voice a soft promise. Her eyes, however, were distant, fixed on the view outside the window, where uncertainty loomed like a shadow over her life. All of your lives, an impending doom, it was.

"If my heart's still beating, I'll be right here. If not, I'll always be in your heart."

𝐀𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐥 𝟐𝐧𝐝, 𝟏𝟗𝟐𝟒

My brain has never been as fucked as it is, let's start with that.

Grace perished, in my arms. I still can't get it out of my mind. I should have been used to this by now, you know, the gruesome death and misery. But, it was different. It was Tommy's wife, Charlie's mum. She was important and loved. And I can still feel her blood on my hands, seeping into my dress and skin. Everytime I close my eyes, I see her eyes. I can't seem to get rid of the feeling, no matter how much I bathe myself or change clothes. I don't know where Polly put the dress, and I couldn't care much currently.

Charlie asks for his mum every single night, sobbing in his bedroom until I go over and hum him to sleep. I am so tired, but I'll do anything for that little boy. I know I'm not his real mum, god, I'd be selfish for trying to replace Grace. But, the boy needs someone who isn't Tommy, as much of a great dad he is, he is grieving and apparently is already back on business. I don't even want to leave Charlie in his room alone, for Christ Sake. I don't want him dead or kidnapped. Thomas would lose his shit, and I wouldn't be shocked if that would be the last ignition for him to shoot himself.

It isn't helping that business never stops for anything. Solomons and Sabini sent flowers, and as thoughtful that is to the blind eye, they know Thomas is vulnerable currently. We have the Russians, the worry of Communists upon us. Worst of all, the Changrettas. From what I have heard, John and Arthur weren't too fond of the order of killing Ms. Changretta, since they had her as a teacher when they were kids. Vicente needs to be dealt with, he had stolen Grace from Thomas, and I'm sure he will. It's all a cluster fuck, really.

God, and Polly. I love her dearly, so much. But, it is driving me mad that she keeps giving me different treatment than everyone else. How she only wants to be with me sometimes, or her touches that are so subtle, but she has to know what she is doing..right? Polly isn't that hollow. Maybe I am mad. I am mad for Polly and this fucking journal is evidence.

I'd most likely attempt to have religion, if one of our biggest enemies currently is a fucking priest.

God help us all.

With Love,

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

"You look nice."

Tommy watched you in the mirror as you placed earrings in the piercings in your ears. A black dress was your outfit of choice for the night, white gloves covering your hands and your hair waving down your neck. You glanced at him through the reflection, popping the cap off of a lipstick. "Thank you."

The two of you were heading to the Wilderness House in the Hampton Court. You had to swallow down any protests you had of attending it, since you had chosen any peace that was still achievable. You hadn't seen Tatiana since that devastating night, you were preparing yourself to see her again, praying you wouldn't throw up at the sight. You didn't want to go, it was like a child inside of you, crying and begging to not go. And, you swallowed it all down.

"Tom, I need you to pin the back together for me, please." You picked up a safety pin from the vanity and handed it to him by holding your arm near your neck. He approached you, carefully bringing the two loose sides of your dress together and securing them with the pin. "Thank you."

"Are you ready?"

"Physically." You breathed out, turning around to face him. You fixed his tie, placing a kiss on his cheek. "It'll be all alright."

"Take your own advice for once, eh?" He commented as you smudged the lipstick off of his cheek with a handkerchief. You hummed, throwing the piece of cloth elsewhere.

"Let's go, Mr. Shelby."

The drive in the Bentley was so quiet. The sky was dark, a light blue hue covering it that you stared at. Your fingers fidgeted with your locket, repeatedly opening and closing the silver. You were soaking in any quiet you could get on the longer than usual drive, the sound of wind blowing against the car enough for you.

Once the car was stopped in front of the house, Thomas and you sighed in unison. The two of you looked at each other, before getting out of the car. You slightly regretted wearing a longer dress as you walked down the long pavement next to Thomas while the fabric kept grazing it. It was to a point where you just let it be, and took the cigarette Tommy had offered you before you entered the home.

"You ready?"

"No." You grumbled, pausing to use Tommy's lighter to light the cigarette. A guard had led you throughout the house to get you to the room where the group was. The sounds of violin kept coming closer and closer as you stepped up the stairs, Thomas helping you up as he held your gloved hand, your other hand picking up the skirt of your dress.

The door opened, "Your highness, Mr. Thomas Shelby, and Ms. Y/n..Shelby."

Thomas squeezed your hand before stepping into the room, and you followed behind him timidly. Everyone at the table raised, "Welcome, you both. I believe you both have met everyone apart from my wife, Grand Duchess Izabella Petrovna." The woman stared at you both, actually, everyone at the table stared at you and Thomas. You gave her a small smile, "Please, take a seat."

Another wave of nausea ran through you as the priest stared you down, your hand raising to rub between your collarbones. He sat directly across from you, your head only turning when Tatiana began speaking. "Before we start, Mr. Shelby, we must offer you our sincere condolences, on your recent loss," Tommy turned to look at Hughes, "Which some of us witnessed. Ms. Shelby, it was a terrifying picture to watch." You hummed silently, glancing down at your lap.

A thick silence coated the room, Tatiana again, leading the conversation. "Did you drive, Mr. Shelby?"

"Yes," Thomas answered instantly, still staring at Hughes. You were sure even Tatiana was uncomfortable by this point, as she desperately seemingly tried to add on.

Tatiana cleared her throat, her gaze flickering to you. "They say you're an expert on cars"

"Yes, I am." Thomas agreed.

Izabella joined in on the conversation, "I am curious, what was your father's profession?"

Thomas's gaze finally dragged away from John Hughes, in which John's gaze turned to you. You immediately looked at Thomas, listening to what he was saying. "Well, he told fortunes, and stole horses. Often, he would tell a man that his horse would be stolen, and they would marvel at his powers when it was." Izabella and Tatiana seemed interested and smiled.

Hughes wasn't so pleased, you had thought, as he unscuffed the collar of his shirt. Food had been passed around, and you didn't even have any appetite, as nice as it looked. "Before we eat, shall we say grace?"

You stared at John as he closed his eyes and put his hands together in disgust, along with Tommy. You took another cigarette from his pack that were peaking through his pocket, putting it in your mouth and beginning to light it.

"For what we are about to receive, may the lord make us truly thankful. Amen." He opened his eyes, which had landed right on you as you were still lighting the cigarette. "You know, as a woman, it isn't mannerly to pursue such habits in a holy space, such as lighting a cigarette."

Your eyes widened, your gaze sharpening as you took a drag of the cigarette, making sure to rightfully force the smoke into his face. Tatiana watched with amused eyes, "Think of it as the holy fucking light, Father Hughes." You emphasised his name, watching his jaw clench as you tapped ash onto your plate. "We aren't here to eat, or say grace, we are here to do business. Yes, Thomas?" You turned your head, waiting for him to continue the conversation.

"What I have to say can be said before the main course." He continued, clearing his throat. "Then I will leave you all to your evening."

"Grand Duchess, I must apologise for the bad manners of my compatriot-"

"This is a report on the mission's progress so far," You cut him off with a sickly sweet voice, pulling an envelope from your garter, which Father Hughes had no restriction from watching. "We have only made one copy for the sense of security, so, who shall I give it to?"

"My husband is in charge of this operation," You extended your arm to Leon, who took the envelope, "But since there will no doubt be vodka later, perhaps you should give it to me for safe-keeping." Izabella gave him a look, and that look gave him no choice as he begrudgingly gave it to her. The bloke looked extremely humiliated as he sat back down. "Speak, Mr. Shelby, as we eat." Izabella looked at you, giving you a very small smile of thanks.

Thomas sighed heavily, "Five factory foremen on our payroll have begun a campaign of victimisation against communist workers in five factories across Birmingham. Anger amongst the workers will grow, but we will control it." Izabella had begun to open the envelope, "On the night of June 21st, a general strike will be called across the city."

"Protests will develop into riots, and all the police who aren't already under our control will be busy. The city will be paralysed." You stated, taking another drag of your cigarette.

"So how will you move the train?" Leon questioned you both, as he took a massive gulp of his wine.

"We have two locomotive drivers who've been allocated to drive the midnight goods to London. The armoured vehicles will be waiting on the flatbeds."

"And ammunition?"

"The ammunition-"

"I'd have to say this soup is exceptional." John gave a dumbass smile, "Absolutely delicious." In return, you had accidentally kicked him under the table, taking a sip of your wine as you did so. He sucked in a breath. And you had ignored any sort of looks he was giving you.

"Ammunition, incendiaries will have been already packed up and crated for transport to Istanbul."

"And how long to London?"

"The train won't reach London. All the goods will be unloaded at a coal yard in St. Albans, and put onto Shelby Company trucks. From there, they will go directly to the Poplar Docks."

Izabella took a deep breath just as the man began speaking. "Your Highness, if you're having difficulty understanding his accent, I can go over the plan with you at a later date."

"They are adults, Father Hughes. They can indicate if they need clarification or translation," you replied firmly, resisting the urge to throw a glass at him.

Exhaustion weighed heavily on you, and you could no longer tolerate the conversation. Rubbing your eyes and yawning, you attempted to check Tommy's pocket watch, which was utterly useless. Observing Tommy write on a piece of cloth, you bit the inside of your cheek upon reading the words, "I have secrets."

Izabella took the cloth, reading it and nodding with a forced smile. Thomas then rose from his seat and offered his hand, which you accepted with grace. "Before I leave, I would like it known that I am unable to swallow food in the same room as this priest. Both of us." Thomas declared, glaring at the priest across from you. Despite your hunger, you couldn't eat in his presence either. The priest appeared offended, almost pouty, as Thomas concluded, "Enjoy your evening."

You quickly followed Thomas out the door, wrapping your arm around his. He glanced at you as you descended the stairs, "I apologise, I feel dizzy."

He remained silent as you both stepped outside. "Head to the car; I'll be there in two minutes," he instructed, gently pushing your back. Nodding, you began walking, wrapping your arms around yourself to protect against the cold wind.

Closing the car door, you closed your eyes and rested your head, not even bothering to try to listen to anything Thomas and Tatiana were speaking of. You only raised your head when you heard them almost right outside the door, your eyes widening at the fact that you probably needed a lot of context to know why Thomas had just gripped Tatiana's jaw extremely hard. He was saying something to her and you just stared, like a deer in headlights, until he let go. You swiftly pretended to be doing anything else than witnessing the ordeal, as he got into the car himself.

"That fucking cunt." He muttered, turning the ignition on to the Bentley. You glanced to your left, watching as Tatiana stared herself. You gulped, praying that Thomas wouldn't crash the car on the way home. Or kill you.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Later that night, you stood in front of your mirror again, gently taking all your jewellery off. You had just gotten Charlie to fall asleep and your door was slightly ajar god forbid he started crying.

You stared at yourself, noting how bloodshot your eyes were, or how a dark line lined your eyelid, or the fact that you were trying to recognise yourself from years ago. Where did she go? Where did that little girl go before everything, where she'd be called in for dinner or the best thing ever was the lollys she'd get? Or her greatest fear being the dark? You wanted to pull your hair out, yet, you only slowly pulled out the earrings in your ears, taking deep breaths. Why did you question so much when you were depressed?

"You look beautiful." The compliment came from the doorway, where Polly stood, pushing the door open. "Did I interrupt?"

"No, no," You tiredly smiled, giving her permission to come in. "You never interrupt, Pol."

Polly smiled, closing the door behind her, "How was the night?" She sat on the edge of your bed, pulling out a cigarette.

Sighing heavily, "Exhausting. Father Hughes disgusts me in every way a man could." You began, taking pins out of your hair. "Other than that, it was mainly just business about how the goods are going to be imported. We weren't there for extremely long," You rubbed your eyes again, taking a deep breath. "I hate business anymore."

"I know darling," Polly spoke, and you glanced at her through the mirror. "I do too."

"Glad I'm not alone." You snickered, "Can you do me a favour?"

Polly raised an eyebrow, "It depends."

"Could you please take the safety pin out of my dress and unzip it? I cannot reach for the life of me." Polly didn't say a word as she stood up, stepping closer towards you.

The blush on your cheeks couldn't be contained as you felt her breath on your neck as she moved your hair out of the way. One hand laid on your waist as she undid the safety pin, laying it on the vanity in front of you. All your mind could focus on was her breath fanning your neck every few seconds, the closeness of you both, just Polly Gray. She had slowly, ever so slowly, unzipped the back of your dress, her fingertips tracing the revealed skin. Her eyes made eye contact with yours in the mirror, and you could've sworn hers were darker than usual.

Once the dress was unzipped, she took a deep breath herself. "Anything else?"

"No," You whispered, gulping down whatever dignity you had left, the bright blush on your cheeks not leaving, and nor did her hand on your waist. You turned around to change, facing her in that process.

Polly's eyes were dark, her lips a brighter shade of red and her skin almost an olive tone in the lighting. Her perfume and the scent of cigarette smoke stuck to her clothes, and her breathing was a bit more sped up. You took a shuddering breath, the space between you both almost nonexistent. "Polly," You had finally breathed out, in which Polly's heart had skipped a beat when you said her name, every so softly. Her name falling from your lips so delicately had been what finally set her free from her mental restraints. 

Polly's lips clashed with yours, and the subtle taste of whiskey and hers greeted your senses. Were you asleep? Was it all a dream you'd wake up from and have to shake off? The feeling of her pulling you closer to her, her hands placed on your waist, had made you tense up, until you had finally melted into the sweet kiss.

You wanted to tell Polly how beautiful she was, her beautiful brown eyes that had just gazed into yours which had, for years, starstruck you. Or how her lips moved delicately with yours, surely painting her lipstick onto your lips, like a talented artist brushstrokes on a mesmerising painting. Your hands had timidly moved up to her face, your fingertips moving across her smooth skin, and your mouth slightly opened to give Polly control. You wanted to admire her, just in case this never happened again, you wanted to admire her as there was quiet, and nothing interrupting the both of you, and while her feelings didn't falter. You hoped this happened again.

And you were so exhausted, of all that was around you. And it was as if Polly cradled you from it all, her arms fully around your waist and her attention sparing to nothing else except you.

"My beautiful girl," She murmured against your lips, as her hand stroked a stray hair out of your face. Her voice was low, and you could barely speak, just, admiring her.

The faint cries of Charles echoed from the hall, which you, regrettably ignored. "Pol, I-"

The door burst open to Ada, "Y/n, do I need to-" Her eyes widened at the scene, Polly's hands on your waist and your faces mere inches from each other. You pushed Polly off of you quickly, not like you wanted to, anyways.

"Don't you know how to bloody knock, Ada?" Polly yelled sternly, and Ada's smirk just got wider, and wider. You stood there, basically a deer in headlights. "Well?!"

"I'm going to go check on Charlie." You nervously stated, walking out of the room as fast as possible and pushing through Ada. You felt tears beginning to burn at your eyes as realisation hit you along with Charlie's pleads, the rest of the night only a blur.

What was going to happen now?

[tirfchu]

i mean there’s genuinely no difference between a frat bro saying ‘i’m a lesbian too haha’ and a ‘transbian’… they are males intruding on a female exclusive sexuality that has always and will always face harassment from males just for daring to not feel attraction to them. a man did not grow up with the same experiences as a lesbian. a woman did not grow up with the same experiences as a gay man. they are heterosexuals with het privilege inserting themselves into gay spaces and it is insulting to actual homosexuals - who are a very small minority!- to intrude on our lives and communities. i have been pushed out of most mainstream lesbian spaces by ‘transbians’, they revolve around girldick and people who ‘love butches’ who are always just masculine males. i hold no energy for men who claim space for themselves without giving a damn about us - which is most ‘transbians’. because they are entitled males and were raised entitled males. you are doing fine work by being diplomatic but god including ‘transbians’ is downright insulting to lesbians who have been dealing with lesbophobia and misogyny because we aren’t attracted to and don’t relate to trans women *by nature*. they are heterosexual males and lesbians should not be expected to stand by them after they’ve colonized our spaces. it’s disappointing that you hold such an inherently homophobic view about heterosexual people

also are you not supporting bisexual lesbianism/split attraction model by saying people who are trans, have ‘gay experiences’, but are technically hetero/bi can use gay labels? there’s no criteria for lesbianism besides experiencing similar harassment to lesbians? i think you are well-spoken but should interrogate this train of thought more. who does it serve to include bisexual, or, less generously, heterosexual trans people in gay sexuality?

i thought for a really long time about this ask! it's such a complicated topic that ofc seems very obvious to ppl on each side. originally when i answered your previous asks (you or someone else on the topic) i honestly wasn't fully settled into my thoughts about it. i'm still fairly new to spaces that aren't mainstream tra spaces. i don't agree that male ppl who transition into being perceived as gay women with their partners etc have the same intent as fratbros joking abt being dykes. i think they just occupy a space that previously was almost impossible back when physical transition wasn't a thing. they're still struggling to find their own space. yes, they did (and still do) really bad shit to homosexuals and female ppl as a community. i know that firsthand. but i also have seen people transition that way and i think it's always annoyingly more complex than it is at first glance. but i REFUSE to give up exclusive female4female & male4male spaces. i refuse to not hold heterosexual ppl accountable for their consistent homophobia, especially transfems unfortunately due to their male socializing & body differences that causes a power imbalance. though i have seen transmascs who date bio men and say the wildest shit ever, or even trick bio gay men into having sex with them without telling them. like stuff is getting REALLY bad, truly unhinged, and i am worried. i just want to figure this stuff out, and i don't believe all trans ppl are doing this for evil reasons, or even callous reasons.

honestly, i do think the term lesbian has always been so fucking unique and uniquely marginalized. and many people born with dicks, transfems included, have been horrible to me & other biological lesbians. i think we have been denied basic respect for so long and pressured to the point of abuse for some of us. transitioning becoming more accessible makes this issue much worse and more pressing. personally, where i'm at right now is... i am okay with transfems who post-transition live passing as sapphic with their gfs etc (who at times are transfem too) using the term transbian. but i do think them using the word lesbian on its own just digs the knife deeper for the female4female community, the lesbian community, which before very recently - back when physical transition wasn't possible - was always 99.9% bio women and transmasc folks loving each other. it's a very specific term. it is heavily, extremely fetishized, and demonized, and belittled, and is an isolating af experience from a young age. they don't get it. of course they don't. yet their sexuality is extremely complex if they transition; they go from their relationships being shrugged off to facing lesbophobia. just like transmasc ppl who transition can date bio men and suddenly face homophobia. but that's those people immigrating into the experiences that homosexuals, exclusively same-sex/agab attracted people, were born into. they have had a life free of the paranoia of showing any attraction to their opposite sex. it must be confusing as fuck. it must be isolating. but it's not the same. it'll never be, and i think gay female ppl & gay male ppl have really tried to be accommodating... i do believe there can be wonderful spaces where everyone who lives perceived as gay/bi men, or as gay/bi women, can have their respective gay & sapphic spaces that are trans-inclusive. i also believe that we need our exclusive male4male and female4female spaces too. we need a space to let loose and bond over stuff.

i think it would be immensely healthy for trans people who transition into living as gay to form their own specific terms for that. i think right now they exist in a very awkward in-between place where they try to make gay/lesbian terms match. but they're constantly upset when homosexual culture doesn't magically stretch itself to include them at every turn, they view it as an attack and a rejection, bc they don't realize same-sex attracted ppl have unique experiences too. they accept t4t but not us. and at times they're butting into a culture they can't really comprehend, same as if a bio gay guy went into a club full of transmasc people who live as gay men. there would be a totally different vibe, a different culture, and i think it upsets trans ppl to think that they're different. even though it's 10000% OKAY to be different, you need to come to terms with it. it can be dysphoria-triggering, that makes total sense... but it's not healthy for them to try to utterly deny their sex/agab and shove themselves into a box they are incapable of fitting into and pretend that they were always in that box and they 1000% understand that box and anyone who says they were never in that box before or that they're new in it and need to be respectful is just a horrible bigot. anyone making homosexual-specific inside jokes etc are being exclusionary meanies. it's not fucking healthy for them OR for female4female & male4male people. we're all marginalized in different ways, and it's not earning them any favors from us. which actually only isolates them more!

transfems haven't returned the allyship that female ppl so often show them, and especially did earlier on when it wasn't so girldick-in-your-face in lesbian spaces and homosexual-shaming as it is now. i will personally, where i'm at right now writing this, accept the term transbian to mean someone who has immigrated into the experience of being perceived as a lesbian, faces misogyny & lesbophobia, and may live that way for 30-40+ years or their whole ass lives doing so. i still will consider them my sisters and want to bond over the similarities and differences in our experiences. but they need to fucking understand what they've done, as a group, to bio lesbians and just female4female ppl. and how bio men & transfems are born into privilege, and that doesn't just all shed away the second they grow tits or get surgeries. i will accept transbian for now. but i think them saying they're lesbian women outright has started to feel insensitive to the current cultural tensions within lgbt, and the misogyny & lesbophobia their community has brought us. all the threats and sexual abuse & guilt-tripping they throw at us, in very male ways. i do believe there's absolutely lovely trans women who i wouldn't even recognize as trans and find common ground with when we both talk about our girlfriends and how shitty society treats lesbian-passing couples. i think homosexual bio men tend to be better at asserting their boundaries bc female folks are taught to be meek and subservient growing up. but we've finally had enough. it took me meeting trans women who tell me "hey, it's really fucked up how my community treats lesbians. i'm sorry. you deserve better" for me to really start to process my anger. bc it could've been so simple!! but it wasn't. it still isn't. i want transfem allies to rise up and show the fuck up for homosexual female folks. for the og lesbians. i will welcome transbians, personally, but not in all context. and i don't expect them to welcome me in transbian-exclusive context either. i want actual allyship. i know this isn't me fully agreeing with you anon, we still disagree on certain aspects of this. but your ask did help me. and i want you to know i don't take shit from misogynistic transfems, i don't let opposite-sex attracted transfems to speak over homosexuals, i demand mutual respect. opposite-sex attracted trans people who live as gays irl post-transition occupy a very weird space. i want to open up dialogue about that with them and between homosexuals too. at the very least, more and more transfems are peaking and properly apologizing & showing up for us. little by little.

i don't know where i am about opposite-sex attracted transmascs using gay. for me, personally, i don't really mind bc it doesn't have the same impact as lesbians having male bodies pressured onto them. i would need to talk to more male4male people, including bio gay men and transfems who are only into other male people. i know some transmascs use the term achillean, and other things like that. some also use gay to mean being same-sex attracted, often they're transmasc4transmasc (and can reclaim lesbian if they so desired, or make new terms). i deeply care for both homosexual rights and people who are genuinely trans and transitioning into new experiences. i'm still trying to learn more and find a middle ground. i know i'm a nicefem by radblr standards or whatever, but whatever.

so yeah, anyways. thank you sm for this ask! it really did stir my brain. i know this isn't as satisfying as if i had outright agreed with you after all this, but i tend to have more nuanced takes since i've been deep in the trans community as a detrans woman and seen how complex life is for people who transition into a gay-passing life. i'm still learning and gathering my thoughts. asks like these really do help.

we need to stand our ground gyns. we need to fight for homosexual rights. we need ppl who immigrate into our experiences to show us basic respect and not demand us to do conversion therapy on ourselves or stop making community inside jokes, just erase all our history to make space for them. we can have overlapping experiences without forgetting to celebrate our differences too. we can have trans-inclusive gay spaces and homosexual-only spaces and trans-exclusive spaces. we can literally have it all and coexist! & they need to start holding their bigots & creeps accountable. we need them to figure this shit out. i get that being a hetero person living as gay, thriving in that way as they're more than welcome to, can be really confusing and isolating and frustrating. but they can't keep doing this to other marginalized communities. it's just not fucking fair.

[anitalianfrie]

please release the diggianini statement thesis

the core to understand diggianini is getting into the (admittedly scary) place that is an italian man's mind. so, come with me into this journey of discovery.

we all know how diggia is right? i think we all have a pretty clear and cohesive image of him in our head. keep him in your mind. now take your idea of enea, completely throw it out, copy paste your idea of diggia and replace his face with enea's. (yes, i know. controversial interpretation. unfortunately i'm right and i have an entire essay on this). now we're ready to start.

enea and diggia are so straight bro italian men that they do a 180 and become attracted to the very essence and core of this distinctive trait of their personality. they have this weird thing that starts when they are teenagers and they wank together and then they just. never stop. and the thing evolves from wanking together to wanking each oher but it's not gay and it won't be as long as neither of them takes it up the ass. (confusing logic, i know)

when the thing evolves in a relationship because they do realize that, in fact, what they where doing was at least little bit gay, they are the less romantic couple in existence. coattissimi. i wish i could translate it from the italian but there isn't an equivalent, the best i can do is "really coarse" which really isn't the same. you enter their home and it's a literal bro lair. they are surving out of cabonara (made by diggia. diggia's pick-up line "i make a fantastic carbonara" works perfectly on enea because he's also an italian man obsessed with carbonara) and take-out pizza.

they are the worst at communicating. *heavy rome accent* listen do we always have to talk about feelings? *heavy romagnolo accent* who wants to talk about feelings. it is known that men do not need to express their feelings out loud. sometimes they beat the shit out of each other (it always ends up with them fucking)

if you had to picture them as an already existing couple i'd say ian and mickey from shameless are a good base. the right vibe.

also let it be known that a breeding kink is involved somewhere.

[dartlekey]

One scoop, two scoop, girl scoop, boy scoop

written for @strangerthingsocweek | rated T | 1486 words cw implied sexual harrassment, misgendering, period-typical homophobia

When Steve returns from the back with a new tub of ice-cream, Robin tears her eyes away from the entrance of Scoops Ahoy to suggest, "You ready to shoot your shot again, Harrington? Or should I take this one?" 

Steve picks the empty container out of the display case without looking, slotting the new container in with ease as surveys the shop, then turns back to Robin with a confused squint. "There's no one here," he tells her, which Robin only doesn't roll her eyes at because he did just literally come out of the back. 

"Nah, over there, by the planter," she explains, nodding vaguely towards the walkway in front of Scoops. "She's walked past here, like, twice, slowly, and now she's just - staring at us. She's definitely coming in here, as soon as she works up the nerve. Though I'm not quite sure what she's so scared of."

Steve looks out at their potential customer. Then he looks back at Robin. "Buckley, that's a teenage boy."

Robin does roll her eyes this time, very pointedly, before turning away from Steve and back to a slim figure in men's jeans and an oversized polo, banged up sneakers and a light brown mullet much like Steve's, except this one fans wide instead of high. A round face with tired blue eyes, a paper note in a calloused hand. Looking at the other girl makes Robin giddy - she's never had the guts to dress so masculine, but she's always wanted to. Never thought she'd see someone like this in Hawkins. 

There's no way she can explain this to the King of the Heteros, but knowing for sure he'll get rejected again delivers its own kind of satisfaction. "No, she's not," Robin says derisively. "Look at the shirt. She works at A&D's, you know, the women's clothing store on the ground floor?" 

Steve frowns. "A teenage boy could be working at a women's clothing store. Don't be sexist."

If this were anyone but Steve Harrington, Robin would be impressed by their open-mindedness, but he's probably only saying that to be contrarian. Or get in her good books. Both kind of icky, really. "Work there, yeah - but not running the place. I've seen her lock up at night, open in the mornings. She instructs the other girls on how to dress the mannequins, which dressing racks to put in front of the windows. Face it, Steve, that's a woman - but, to be fair, from the way you've been striking out, you don't know much about women, do you?"

Steve looks so offended it takes everything in Robin not to burst out laughing. "Excuse you?", Steve says hotly, "I am very knowledgeable about women, and you know what? I'll prove it to you, once she's - oh, shit."

Apprently, she's finally decided to walk into Scoops, shoulders hunched and eyes sharp as she approaches the counter. Robin stares unashamedly, trying to commit everything about her appearance to memory - she's not attracted to A&D girl (unfortunate though that may be, because she's probably never getting another chance like this), but Robin is drawn to her all the same. Like recognizing like, and all that. 

Steve doesn't recognize shit, though. "Hey there, beautiful," he purrs, twirling his scoop in that way which would be impressive if Robin hadn't seen him fumble it twenty plus times while practicing, even smacking himself in the face once. "No need to be shy; if you're unsure of what to get I'll be happy to guide you to a more, uh… unconventional flavor. My name's -" 

"Steve Harrington," their customer interrupts, voice surprisingly soft, "I know. Though I was not aware your flavor included guys."

Oh, Jesus. Robin was wrong. Robin was super wrong, which is extremely disappointing but also sort of morbidly funny, because Steve immediately turns pale as a sheet. 

"Oh, I'm - oh my god, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to -" 

A&D guy allows himself a small grin, half amused, half - resigned, almost. "Don't worry about it. I suppose you weren't technically wrong yet, I was just being a little mean."

Steve looks about as confused as Robin feels. "Yet? I'm - what? Are you a guy or not?" 

And A&D guy… shrugs. Actually shrugs, like he doesn't really know either, and doesn't particularly care. "In my experience, other people have a lot stronger opinions on that than I do, so I just let them decide. I only ask for consistency in return, because trading pronouns all the time gets messy fast. So, uh," he clears his throat, and fidgets with the note in his hand. "You assumed I was a woman, so to you, I am one. Might not want to flirt with me anymore, though, I'm pretty sure I'm not your type."

Steve blinks. Swallows, blinks again. Then, much to Robin's surprise, he says, "Fuck it. Okay, sure. What's one more tally on the board, right, Buckley? And what can I get for you…?" 

"Kicks," the - person in front of the counter says, shoulders relaxing marginally. "Kicks Maguire," which, alright, is a sick-ass name, and Robin can respect commitment to the bit when it's coming from such an obviously queer person. "And I have a list, it's, uh - each scoop in a separate cup, please, and that's uh, chocolate, chocolate again, strawberry, vanilla, caramel, and lemon."

"Wow, someone's hungry," Robin can't resist joking as she waves Kicks over to the register, and when Kicks laughs Steve fumbles his second chocolate scoop, dropping it back into the container with a curse. "No, this is for the entire team," Kicks explains, "my coworkers. They've been working hard, thought they deserved a treat."

Aw, that's sweet. Robin subtly skims a quarter off the total, then quips cheekily, "What, and none of them wanted to help you carry their prize back to home base?" 

Kicks' eyes flicker to Steve for just a second before returning to Robin, and his - her? No, his, Robin decides, his smile is still perfectly friendly as he forks over a few bills, but Robin is sharper than a lot of people give her credit for. "Nah, I just told them I could handle it."

"Handling it, huh," Robin muses, dropping the change in Kicks' outstretched hand. "Is that why you were messing with Steve, then? Punishment for making your girls uncomfortable?" 

Kicks' eyes widen visibly, and Steve freezes in his movement. "What? Hey, is that true?" 

Kicks shrugs uncomfortably. "Not everyone wants to be flirted with when they're just getting ice cream, Harrington," he says, voice carefully neutral, but Steve still looks like a kicked puppy. "I didn't mean to -" 

Then he frowns, shakes his head. "But I did. I did make those girls uncomfortable, even if I didn't mean to. I'm really sorry Kicks, I - they're probably not gonna want to see my face, but could you tell your girls my sincerest apologies?" 

Kicks looks kind of stumped, which Robin can relate to. "Yeah, I - I can do that. Yup. Sure. I'll just head out then, uh, Steve and -" 

"Robin," Robin fills in the blank, "Robin Buckley."

Kicks shoots her a quick, nervous grin. "Robin. You should come by the shop, sometimes. Even if we don't have a men's section."

His eyes dart back to Steve again, then away, and he grabs the tray with ice-cream they prepared for him. Steve frowns after him when he walks away, gaze lingering thoughtfully on the curve of his back. "He said that to you, right? That's weird. What would you be doing in the men's section?" 

Robin shoots him a tight-lipped smile. "I don't know, Harrington. Tell me, though, which part of the men's section do you get your lip gloss and hairspray from?" 

Steve turns an adorable shade of pink and huffs, "Yeah, yeah, point taken. Whatever."

He still keeps his eyes on Kicks' retreating form, and so does Robin. Kicks just makes for such an odd contradiction - he's so casual about his disregard for gendered expectations, self-assured and easy about it in a way that makes you agree with him, because why wouldn't you? And yet, at the same time, there's this caution about him, a smallness, like he wants nothing more than to disappear into the background. A hyperawareness of his surroundings that Robin knows from herself, the craving and the fear to be other inextricably linked. 

And yet he sticks to his guns, stubborn and open. Robin always thought to be publicly other you'd have to be loud and bold, someone like that Sinclair girl that keeps bugging her for free samples, or like  Munson from her drama class. She likes this quiet self-assuredness, though, this stubborn persistence in spite of the fear, not for a lack of it.  Maybe she will check out A&D's sometime. If only to find out how Kicks gets his hair to defy gravity like that, because like hell she's asking Steve.

[void-thegod]

I've experienced many forms of oppression.

Being treated differently by white folks.

Being treated differently by brown folks.

Being treated differently by men, by women, by queer people.

Being treated differently by abled and neurotypical folks.

I'm treated differently for being male.

That's not 100% my fault.

I'm treated differently for being a trans male.

That's not 100% my fault.

People will literally side eye me or not get into a relationship with me bc I'm trans.

We've all experienced that, if we were unfortunate.

I've heard cis and queer women of color talk Hella shit about cisgender men.

Real bad. Almost as bad as the shit I've heard from men about women.

These perceptions -- both of them -- affect how I'm perceived. By those I want to be friends or romantic partners with.

Stack on the fact I'm brown, neurodivergent af, and conventionally attractive.. I've had A TIME.

SO: Imagine how I feel ... this aspect of my oppression and experiences being denied by my own community?

By others, period?

People who would easily accept that I face all the other forms of oppression and fucked up experiences bc of something I can't help..

Denying that I experience fucked up stuff for being a man and a trans man, at that?

I am one of those trans guys that "always knew"

I grew up as a butch/stud lesbian. Basically as soon as I could say what I wanted to wear. So.. elementary school.

And I SAW.

I saw how everyone was treated differently. Based on skin color. Perceived attractiveness or intelligence. Based on body type. Based on sex and gender. Based on whether they were normal or not.

And I experienced all that shit.

Am still experiencing it.

What do I get?

What do I get for knowing myself and staring into the fucking Abyss?

Ignored. Hassled. Called a narcissist.

Because I've seen what I've seen and I'm speaking on it.

It's not right.

Trans men experience so much shit.

You don't see us. You don't hear us.

And when we disappear you don't give a fuck.

PS: if you read this far and still have the gall to say some stupid monkey shit to me I will just block you. I'm done.

[cookinguptales]

guess it's time for the vent post

(note: I will be okay. usually my ketamine treatments help with pmdd symptoms, but occasionally a treatment won't hit quite right and things will get worse for a couple days. I'll be okay, though, I'm just feeling... well, a cocktail of self-doubt, anxiety, loneliness, and overthinking. lmao)

anyway, full disclosure, this won't be a very nice or happy post and is probably the kind of thing I would've posted in a locked LJ entry back in the day but that doesn't really exist in the same way anymore so just bear with me. I need to just. get it out somewhere.

lately I've really been worrying that I'm not capable of being in a normal relationship anymore. like, I was never great at social interaction, but I'll admit that things really took a fucking nosedive after a particularly bad relationship with a woman who. well, I don't think it's a night for particulars. she was an adult and I wasn't. I was very lost, very lonely, and very sick back then, and she really enjoyed being the only person I felt like I could count on.

I... was wrong, I guess.

and... idk, I've definitely had a lot of nights since then (and days with therapists) where I try to sort through how exactly that affected me and my ability to form meaningful romantic relationships. I have a difficult time feeling safe with people. honestly, I did even before her (I had... a very fucked-up home life) but it was harder after. and let's just say that a lot of my friends at the time turned out to be... less than friendly when the shit hit the fan.

so... yeah. hard for me to open up to people in a meaningful way, I guess. like, I can tell strangers about my anxieties, but it becomes harder for me to do once we're friends. and even then, I guess I can trust people with my thoughts but not my... idk, emotional safety.

once when I was pretty tipsy I told a friend that I didn't think I could love the kind of person who would actually love me back, and I still worry that it's true. I allow myself feelings very rarely, and when I do, it's always for people who don't feel the same way.

I never... like... set out to do it... I don't think it's a conscious thing. I fell for straight girls a few times. then bi girls with boyfriends. I did eventually make it to single lesbians, but they always ended up either getting girlfriends, not wanting to date at all, or just not wanting to date me.

to be clear, I don't blame any of them. but I'm starting to wonder if maybe I should be blaming me...? like, I never knew that any of them were straight or coupled or uninterested when I developed feelings myself. but I wonder if subconsciously, I picked up on it...?

for a while now, I've been genuinely worried that My Type is girls who aren't into me. :')

like, not consciously. but subconsciously, am I just picking up on the fact that they're not attracted to me? or they're safely ensconced in another relationship? or they are comfortably not dating at all? but either way, they're not looking at me like a potential partner, and I like that?

some days I feel like I've mostly healed from everything that happened, and other days I feel like I'm just going to be broken and fucked-up and unlovable forever. like, jesus christ, have I learned to associate people who actually want me with danger? do I only feel safe with people who aren't attracted to me? is that why that's the only kind of person I ever want to date?

good god, that's fucked up.

I mean, the only two alternatives, really, are that I am just incredibly unlucky or the meaner parts of me are right and people really just don't want a fat cripple with a mediocre personality.

the latter probably isn't entirely true. men are easy, unfortunately, and I'd be happier if they didn't want me.

(and then you run into the special kind of anger that happens when a woman that a man thought was beneath them actually turns them down, oof. guess they thought the girl with the cane would be more desperate, huh?)

and I've been on a few dating app dates with girls who seemed to like me well enough, but like. just no chemistry whatsoever.

is the special spark??? a woman not wanting me???

food for fucking thought.

anyway, I guess I just kind of avoided thinking about it for a long time but I'm in my mid30s now and it kind of feels like I have avoided things for too long now! that's pretty old to have never had a long-term relationship! other than with the fucking creep who wanted to ~teach me about sex~ back when I was young and less disabled and maybe still worth something!

I guess that was uncalled for, but some days I really do feel like there was a window and boy did I fucking miss it. like everyone else had this chance to learn their way around a romance and I spent mine hooked up to hospital wires and texting with a grown-ass woman who fed on youth.

I recognize that a key part of grooming -- and abusive relationships in general -- is their ability to make you feel like they are the only person who will ever love you. I also recognize that these people are very good at finding the one kid in the room who believes at their core that they will never be loved. (or even make it to age 20, I guess. didn't know if the whole intermittent blindness thing was going to kill me or not back then.)

but goddamn do I still feel like she hollowed me out and took all the parts of me that were lovable with her. like maybe she will be the only woman who ever wants me, and that's fucking horrifying to think about.

there are nights where you just stare at the wall and wonder what made you so damn attractive to pedophiles, y'know? I knew enough at that age to shake off the men, but her? didn't even see it coming.

and I suppose there are the worse nights, the ones where you wonder if normal, well-adjusted, not-creepy people never would have wanted you even if you weren't too damaged to carry on a real relationship. like maybe I was insufferable enough without the ptsd. catnip for creeps and not much else.

damn, dude, why am I so good at pulling men who follow me home from the bus stop but not women who actually care about my well-being. that's the question.

idk. I feel like at this point, like... 75% of me has come to terms with it. like, I guess it's just not something that happens to everybody. not everyone finds someone who loves them and who they love in return. not everyone is cut out for that life.

but then I look at my own writing and the way I just keep doing it, I just keep latching onto broken characters who have had the best parts of them hollowed out, who believe that they are unlovable, and I write a story that says no, you're not. Here, I've made someone for you who loves you wholly and desperately, even broken as you are.

and I feel like that must be the last 25%, huh? or at least the part of me that wants to comfort broken creatures, whether those creatures are characters I made up or ones I didn't or my readers or the people I read about on the news or maybe a 15yo kid who just wanted someone to fucking love her.

I want to take care of her so badly now. I want to love her in a good way, not the selfish kind that takes and takes and takes until there is nothing left. But I guess I just don't know how.

I realized the other day that I just wrote a book that I would have loved at that age. Now I kind of feel like I've been writing bedtime stories for a ghost.

I'll be okay. I always am. It's just... a rough night. They come and they have always come and they will always come and all I can do is write.

Just wish it were something more comforting this time. :')

[theladysherlock]

6, 7, 8 for Deryn and Alek (and anyone else you want tbh but I am HERE for the Leviathan!!)

Haha I know my audience, we're on a Leviathan Lockdown babeyyyyy

Ask me some Character Questions!

6. What's something you have in common with this character?

Unfortunately I read these books when I was a kid so they managed to significantly influence my personality, and it's tricky to tell what is true and what I glommed onto in my formative years.

Alek and I are.... very similar. I have a lot of knowledge that doesn't have a lot of real-world application, I pick up new skills pretty easily, I hate feeling useless, I'm not super comfortable with animals, I love when my friends start talking in-depth about that thing they like, I love stories, I'm a shit liar, I'm very loyal, I was a very naive teenager (and a slightly less naive adult), etc. This also is probably projecting but I'm asexual and I do headcanon that Alek is also asexual, though that didn't just come out of my ass. (There are some ace headcanons that DO come out of my ass, but that's neither here nor there).

Deryn is way cooler and braver and stronger and more talented than I am, but I think there's a lot of the way we deal with emotions that's very similar. I also think romantic feelings are an inconvenience and unprofessional in my day-to-day life. I also do the deflection thing I've been talking about in the liveblog-- if I get scared I will often start making jokes (usually in the context of watching a scary movie, or I'll start thinking about how the effects team put that shot together so I don't have to be so scared). I don't do it nearly as often as Deryn does, but you know, it's still there.

7. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you like?

I LOVE all the different gender interpretations for Deryn. There's so many different ways you can relate to this character's identity and I think every single one of them is amazing. Dylan as a trans man who discovers himself when in "disguise"? Incredible. Deryn as a gender-nonconforming girl frustrated by the strict societal standards that are imposed on women like her in the early 1900s? Astounding. Deryn realizing they don't really feel like either a boy OR a girl and are figuring out some third option outside the gender binary? Beautiful. Deryn who probably has something going on but the world needs saving so there's no time for that? Terrific. I genuinely love all of the interpretations I've seen because so many of them come from a very personal place, and it's so nice that people across the board can relate to this character.

As for Alek, there's a lot of little things I like that aren't quite widespread enough to call it something "the fandom does," but every time someone gives that boy mental illness I start cheering. He's handling himself pretty well but he's got something going on up there that makes everything harder!! We can all see it! Someone get that boy to therapy I swear to god

8. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you despise?

It's not the end of the world because as I previously mentioned I do really like all the different gender identities that Deryn slips into, but Deryn with long hair always feels.... wrong. I don't know that I would say "despise" fully but it doesn't feel right. Who is this person. Are they in disguise?

However. Everyone who writes Alek being homophobic towards Lilit owes me $50 per instance. I truly hate that shit. Unless you're saying something interesting about Alek having some complicated feelings around his own attraction towards men, I don't want to see it. And I haven't seen anyone use Alek being shitty as a tool to unpack internalized homophobia so it just pisses me off. (ALSO HE ISNT WEIRD ABOUT IT IN GOLIATH!! LIKE IN CANON HE IS NOT WEIRD ABOUT LILIT KISSING DERYN ONCE HE KNOWS!! WHY WOULD HE BE WEIRD ABOUT IT NOW- sorry im fine i just truly hate this shit so much)