#i guess it’s fine but i haven’t known many men who wanted 2 women to hook up in a show who weren’t weird about it

[dreamersdreamloud]

Drug Cartels (Part 2)

Lionel Luthor wasn't the only one with a family. Your father (Y/F/N) found your mother around the same time that Lionel found his future wife. (Y/F/N) went on a small vacation in Europe before going back to Mexico to deal with the drug business. Your mother and father hit off quickly and continued to pursue this relationship. Your parents never got officially married but in the eyes of their cartel family, it looked like they were. Ever since you were born, Los Reyes Alfa Cartel was always there for you. Despite not being connected by blood, they were highly considered your family. 

Your parents and you made so many connections and each member treated you as their own daughter too. Although your parents are drug lords, they never really used their power to scare people unless they were disloyal or a danger to the community. Your father was the iron fist while your mother represented the caring hands. It was perfect. 

People who work for Los Reyes Alfa were well taken care of. Children felt safe within the cartel and they were able to go to school without any financial issues due to the cartel providing. The elderly were watched over and the poor were not so poor. Los Reyes Alfa were never selfish or greedy about the money they make. They rather give it away to those who need it then keeping it all to themselves. 

When you turned 24, your parents handed over the power to you. They no longer wanted to be part of it due to them being highly wanted from the feds and that they wanted to live the rest of their lives in peace. You didn’t mind the transition of power and your parents trained you ever since you were a kid. 

They went into hiding after they sent out their condolences to Lionel Luthor. You personally haven’t met the Luthors but your parents did tell you that Lionel is a very close friend to your father and that our cartel groups shouldn’t clash. Not until Lex Luthor decided to declare war against your cartel family. 

“Jefe! ¿Escuchaste? La hermana de Lex se escapó de su cartel. 

(Boss! Did you hear? Lex’s sister ran away from her cartel.) 

A short woman came in the room while you were on the balcony in one of the many homes you  own, watching the oceanside view. It was your area of peace to just watch the sun rise and set whenever you want to relax. 

“Lo dice en serio? (Are you serious?). Maggie, go send out some people to find the woman. Maybe her bastard brother and I can make a deal.” 

Maggie Sawyer is one of your closest members of the cartel to you but before she started working for Los Reyes Alfa, your parents rescued her when she was 16 years-old from her abusive father. She was abused for being gay and that she was a disgraced to her own family. Your parents caught the drunken father beating Maggie in public. Your mother was horrified that the father was beating his child based on a stupid reason so your father took action and shot the man at blank point. They left the man to bleed on the dirt streets of where Maggie used to live, an example of what it looks like to beat your children for no just reason. 

Your parents took Maggie away and introduced you to her. You became close like sisters and helped find a new family that was willing to accept who she is. It wasn’t long until Kara and Alex Danvers also joined the cartel. They were willing to join after their parents were murdered by James Olsen’s cartel. The Danvers sisters could not support themselves after the devastating loss. Alex dropped out of medical school and Kara quit being a reporter due to not making enough money. 

Your parents and you took good care of the girls. There are times where you all fought but made up. What made this little group interesting is that all of you came out gay and you were all proud becuase no one can say shit about it. If they did, people better hope you come back home in a body bag instead of being found in the river or hanging in public. 

*** 

6 months later 

Lena Luthor, now known as Kieran Lee, is found hanging out in a nightclub. Lena just got off work from a small business pharmacy not too far from where she lives. Lena was able to find a place where it was not Luthor Cartel territory but in Los Reyes Alfa grounds. She was worried that one of Lex’s men would find her but nobody came for months. No talks were going around if the raven-haired woman was seen in these grounds. It made her worry but soon she was got comfortable. 

Lena from time to time, keeps track of what the Luthor Cartel were doing, only to find out that Lex is murdering more people each week for not obeying his power. Although his men are out there killing and stealing, Lex is increasing his wealth. He was able to smuggle more drugs than their late father ever did before.  

The raven-haired tries to ignore her brother’s actions but it was difficult. She wants to do something about it but she doesn't know how. She wishes she had her own cartel of her own, send out orders to stop his reign but also help out the poor and weak. The least she could do is keep working in the small pharmacy with an old couple who owns it, she was able to help sick children and eldry. Lena would pay some of the medications with her leftover money for those who really need it. Sometimes, if she has the right chemicals and powders, she would make her own meds in her apartment space and give them for free. 

Tonight, Lena wants to feel numb. She plans to just drink a few drinks and socialize to make connections. Helpful connections at least. 

“Hermosa chica! Come and dance!” A random male has been trying to make moves on Lena. She wasn’t having any of it. Whenever she comes to this nightclub, a guy would try to flirt with the green eyed beauty. Tonight, he takes a chance and grabs Lena by the arm to force the woman to dance with him. 

“Let go of me!” Lena tries to break free but the man just grins and gropes her ass. The man’s glory moment didn’t last long and ended up being pushed to the floor by another figure. A blonde above the injured drunken man with her back facing Lena. 

“Ya know. It’s not nice to manhandle a woman, amigo. Women won’t like that. When she says no. . .” The blonde kicks the man between his legs and screams out his pain. “That’s what happens.” 

Everyone around looks at them but quickly ignores the situation. Another male came in to help the crippled guy on the floor and walked away. 

“Are you okay?” The blonde asks Lena who just can’t believe what just happened in front of her. Her emerald green eyes met the blue eyes, she was a bit lost. She took a quick minute to study the blonde’s strong looking figure. 

“Mhm. So may I have the name of my savior?” Lena plans to get laid tonight. 

The blue eyes chuckled, “Kara Danvers.” 

“Kieran Lee.” They shook hands and exchanged flirty smiles. 

“Can I buy you another drink, Kieran?” 

Lena didn’t turn down a free drink which turned out to be many more. The raven haired lost track of time and how many drinks she had. She was feeling free and relaxed. The two women danced on one another, not caring how scandalous it was looking. 

“Let’s go somewhere private, yeah?” Kara says into Lena’s ear while she pulls her in very close to her body. 

The two stumbled into one of the dark areas of the nightclub, they shared rush heated kisses until Lena felt a prick on her neck. Those are not teeth, Lena quickly thought. 

She sees that Kara is holding a needle in her hand and that her steel blue eyes focused on Lena’s reaction to the injection. Lena suddenly felt dizzy and the sounds around her were sounding farther by the second. 

“Nothing personal, hermosa.” The blonde finally says when Lena eyes slowly closes and starts to fall forward. A short red head woman came quickly to Kara’s side to help carry the raven haired. 

“That was easy but you took a while. We need to leave now before Boss loses her patience.” The red haired tells Kara. 

“I can’t just prick her, Alex! She needed to feel comfortable with me first.” Kara says back to her sister. 

“Whatever. Maggie is waiting outside. . Let’s go..” 

Kara easily carried Lena in her arms and Alex guided the way out to the car. The three went inside the back of the black Jeep Wrangler, placing Lena between the Danver sisters. 

“She looks like a hot mess.” Maggie looks at the unconscious woman. 

“Apparently, Kara wanted to have a little fun.” Alex comments and Kara just shrugs. 

They drove off and made their way back to the base. Another black Jeep followed closely behind them. 

“Is someone following us?” Alex questions the driver. 

“They’re one of ours. (Y/N) was kind enough to send back up just in case Lex’s men found Lena before us.” Maggie answers. 

“I’m guessing Winn and Mike are in that car?” Kara looks behind to see if she can see the faces in the car.

“Yup!” 

The group is glad that the kidnapping went perfectly fine. They didn’t need to harm anyone in the club but the drive back home is going to take a while. They have 3 hours to drive back to their destination. 

*** 

“You lost my sister?!” Lex yells at the two men in front him. 

They didn’t know what to say. Maxwell Lord was still suffering the pain between his legs and hopes the ice is helping him recover. John Corben was planning to go back to grab the raven haired but she was with the blonde the whole time. It made it difficult to go and grab the missing Luthor sibling.  

“We couldn’t get her alone. She was drinking with this blonde the whole time. Then we lost the two of them in the club. Maybe the blonde took her home but we’re close to finding your sister’s apartment for more clues.” 

“Well why are you still here! Go! You’re wasting my fucking time.” Lex yells at them again. 

I’ll find you Lena. One way or another. Lex says to himself. 

[windsweptlassie]

On Love

So as you know I made this uquiz with an open-ended question at the end, tell me something about love, and I’ve gotten the most wonderful responses! They range from descriptions of wonderful partners: 

Lauren: oh, how long I went without being myself until I met him and he showed me who I truly was and that my worth was higher than I ever thought was possible

Levi: I love who we are with each other. I love who I am with you. In your company I am me. In your company I am the best of me. The best with the best, I've told you. I wouldn't give you up for anything

Daniel: i fell in love for the first time when i was 17... at the time, i didn’t realize it was the first time, i thought i’d been in love before, a couple times actually, but falling in love at 17 was such a fulfilling experience, it felt so forceful yet so right. it’s when i first truly understood what love was. never before had i felt so understood and so cared for as i did when i was in love with her, and she was in love with me. it’s been nearly 4 years since then, and nearly 3 years since we broke up and stopped talking, and still, i think about her almost every day. i’ve never known anyone like her; to me, she was love itself.

El: oh i’m in love with everyone that i know op!!! especially my girlfriend, of course ,but also my friends and my family and random people on the street and uh

Grace: i’ve met my soulmate and we plan on getting an apartment and marrying after college

A: I’m going to ask the woman I love to marry me and I just wanted to tell someone because I am so excited

Jeremy: you ever have that feeling where basically after years of denying that someone couldnt understand you in a way or love you and then the next thing you know you happen to find that person and its just great from then on out? idk how to explain it anyways I love my boyfriend so much he means the world to me

Lucy: i am so happy i have found the one i love

to descriptions of best friends and favorite people:

Nightbyrd: Love is a hug from an alzheimer's patient who hasn't the foggiest idea who you are, but they know you're worth hugging.

H: I have been doing so much yoga with my roommate recently!! It's a great way to center my mind for an hour

Riv: [platonic] i’ve literally never met anyone who understands me in the way that my best friends do. they’re literally the best people in the whole world and i genuinely don’t know what i’d do without them. i love them with my whole heart

Cillian: when i talk about how much i love my best friend i get so teary eyed because i cant believe that such a genuinely wonderful person wants to speak to me every day - i care for her more than anyone else on this planet

O: my two besties are my sources of happiness and they’re so pretty i would die for them :D

to beautiful quotes:

Kai: "you have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love, I love, I love you. I never wish to be parted from you from this day on." DARCYYYY PLS MY HEART CANT HANDLW THIS PAIN

Dorian: When the plane went down in San Francisco, I thought of my friend M. He’s obsessed with plane crashes. He memorizes the wrecked metal details, ____the clear cool skies cut by black scars of smoke. Once, while driving, he told me about all the crashes: The one in blue Kentucky, in yellow Iowa. How people go on, and how people don’t. It was almost a year before I learned that his brother was a pilot. I can’t help it, I love the way men love. (accident report in the tall, tall weeds- ada limon, bright dead things)

Adam: every day I think about lemony snicket I will love you if I never see you again I will love you if I see you every Tuesday or however it goes. and it KILLS ME. love only fits in small things

Hero: “Your heart beats in my ribs and mine in yours, and both in God’s… The divine magnet is in you, and my magnet responds.” - Herman Melville to Nathaniel Hawthorne

Mary: "Love is watching someone die."

Alex: "meet me at blue diner, i'll take coffee and talk about nothing baby"

Sparrow: "How dare you love me like you've never known fear?" and "For you, the world," and "Darling, I was born to press my head between your shoulder blades," and "Will you start where I end?"

V: " You want to die for love. You always have. " and "someone will remember us, I say, even in another time" are living rent free in my mind 24/7 and I'm shaking. When will I finally be not the only one falling ?

Sahar K: To love another person is to see the face of god!!!

Miriam: all the love in the world is useless when there is total lack of understanding- kafka

Juls: Don’t you think they are maybe the same? Love and attention

to practices of love:

Leo; i love feeling happy bc somebody that i love is happy and comfortable....like its not about me i just love seeing you smile. we are safe together...idk i just feel it bro

A: I like to think love is leaning on each other during the light or dark days. Its a personal mission of mine to find out who I am and what I want. Yet I never seem to find my place in this world and as I look and look , I realise the only place I can be myself even with or without the efforts to find myself was done on that day or not, I am always tired so shall I lean on you? And you can lean on me as well. I shall be your fig tree and you shall be my favourite willow tree.

L: It's too late at night to be soul searching, but it's a journey we all seem to find ourselves on these days.

Anthi: feeling safe and at home, I guess (also I love frogs)

Julia: ive found that loving someone is like becoming your own thesaurus. you have to find or come up with infinite ways to say, you’re beautiful, or, i love you. it’s a gift

Galexies: ive been writing letters to the person i'd love one day since i was 14. i write them in a little journal usually, but i've been digitizing them into emails and sending them to one account that i'll give to them someday. i'd like to put pictures, but i haven't been outside much recently so theres that. i wonder if they'd like the sunsets i have on file, or if they'd find my cat cute in a bowtie.

Caeles: Love is sharing fruit slices and making someone tea at random

Dundy: Love is sending your friends cursed shit and watching them react in horror

to crushes and potential loves: 

Jess: I have a crush on my roommate. It sucks, but it's also wonderful. I get to be around him all the time when we're at school. we share a life together; it's rather domestic. I think a lot about marrying him and being domestic with him forever. It won't happen, and I'll move on eventually, but I'll be happy with him for as long as I can. I hope you feel loved tonight, because you are. Sleep well.

Aki: I so desperately want to believe that love is fake because I’ve seen what happens when loved ones leave but whenever I start to convince myself that I’ll never love anyone my best friend messages me telling me she loves me. She’s the only person I’ve ever pictured having a future with but love scares me and I don’t really know what to do but I think as long as she’s with me in some way, I’ll be fine

Hi: her her i keep thinking abt her.... gonna see her in 8 days or so i really miss her. its ok if shes never gonna love me like i want her to really being her friend spending time with her makes me the happiest girl on earth.... outsold antidepressants

Kit: this guy i have a crush on has hypnotically dark brown eyes and he's wonderful and shows me kindness like no one else

Juno: my crush has all the stars in his eyes

Mads: When I have the courage to meet my eyes with hers, the world stands still

Be Nice To Me: Look bro I never do these but I am yearning to hold them SO badly right now and someone needs to know it besides me

to the trials of love: 

Pppppp: I just wanna love like from the movies and what I read about.. but everyone tells me that that’s fictional and rare to find in the real world and it sucks bc it seems like all the guys I’ve met are terrible and the norms of society are all about not respecting women and uthdjdjdk

Manny: I have been in love before and I will be again but I’m not now and I miss it

Ok: I don't think I've ever been in love, though I love many people. I am waiting for the day I look at someone and can say, YES. IT'S YOU.

Chloe: idk rn i'm like okay with my love and i'm happy so we'll see i'm just a little cautious rn bc my last partner told me i didn't know how to love

L: love is so fucking complicated I don't even know where to start

Corrin: He’s not real and it worried me that I will never allow myself to live or be loved because I will always be waiting for him

Sean: Good luck it dont exist

Serena: i want 2 b in love :(( </3

13: I don’t know anymore

M: I just really don’t like dealing with it lol

to beloved characters: 

Janaya: I’m madly in love with my comfort and kin character and I hope maybe in the afterlife I can relive a life with him in some sort of dimension

Jhgjdf: when i was a kid i had a crush on ash ketchum from pokemon and id always daydream about being a female pkmn trainer and meeting him and we fall in love

to advice and prose: 

Mikolai: Love is earth, gentle and soft at first flight but upon being broken, drowns you in the dry choking wastes of its consequences...

Thex: Your hands will not go cold without someone to hold them. I am here. I will be here.

Kat: it is the nearest proof to god that i find myself surrounded by people who love in a way that complements so wonderfully the way i love

H: believe in love out of spite believe in love to prove everyone wrong believe in love because you were told not to and we will not do what we’re told anymore believe in love because it’s the strongest act of teenage rebellion we have left believe in love because it’s easier not to and when is easy worth doing? believe in love because everything says otherwise but you are untouchable, you are your own, you are not made by their design believe in love because, perhaps, you are love

Ali: I used to want a kind of love that feels like coming home and now I want nothing more than to be away from home on many different adventures

Em: you dont need to love yourself to accept it from others

to the small, the simple, and the sweet:

Ireal: Poems

O: Flowers

Fay: ah im sorry that i’m feeling unmotivated but you are very kind.

Ad: we love LOVE

A: <3

Isak: small things

H: intense

Hey: Listening to a clock ticking away

S: her

E: <3

Hania: Amorous, I adore that word ^^

Catboy: wholesome

J: i love love so much it hurts

Emmy: hi i love the song darkest of discos!! try and give it a listen!! <3

Nora: Love is painful, but most of the time love is great

Ariel: i like the comfort it can bring

M: i love love

to food!

Cool Whip: Matzoh ball soup!!

Woop: I love sausages.... I hope that's ok with you?

and animals too <3

Nee: hmm i have pet geckos and i love them very much!

96: raccoons ????

DJ Big Penis: cats

:3: I Love frogs,,, love is stored in the frog,,,

I hope that this serves as a sweet compilation of what love means! Love to all of you, it warms my heart so much to hear about your people and your geckos and your characters and soup and all the songs and quotes you love. <3 Strength to all of you who are figuring out to do about your feelings for your crush, and congratulations to you who are proposing or moving in with your person! Your words are a source of light to me, truly.

[aen-maggs]

YOUR MESS IS MINE - Chapter 1

It was not a large crowd, but there was only so much space in the Southside Ballroom after the ring and the ramp was set up. Still, it was a larger crowd than I had seen in a long time. My hands were stinging and my knuckles were bloodied, but it didn't bother me. I was feeling something, even if it was for a short time. I was in one of the back stage rooms and trying to clean up. I could hear the cheers in the front room, and I closed my eyes trying to focus on that white noise. Once I let out my "little demon", I had to get her back in the box.  I felt my rage slide back into that place in my brain and I gritted my teeth and looked in the mirror. That might be the start of a shiner on my left eye.  Cool.

My hair had gone prematurely gray a year ago, so I had dyed it jet black. It was a mess after the match, with strands coming out at all angles from its braid. I turned the water off in the sink and I tried some relaxed breathing to help flush the adrenaline from my system. It had been an intergender match, and there was becoming more of a call for men against women lately. My opponent, Denny, had been tougher than most guys I had fought. Denny, also known as Dallas West, was a big guy at 6 foot 2 compared to my 5 foot 3. He didn't mind doing the job for me because I never pulled punches and never did anything fake. My hits were real, and I expected the same from my opponents. In the end, he was glad to put on a good show with someone he respected.  Even if it had been a while since I had been in the circuit.

There was a darker side to me, and one that I was very careful with.  My "little demon" craved the pain, and I was never sure what we enjoyed more.  There was something special about the crunch of my fist hitting someone's face, but feeling the bumps and scrapes made me feel alive in ways I didn't most of the time. It was not something I was proud of, and in some ways I felt ashamed by it.

My long ago past had been pretty crazy, but in the last year or two, I worked to keep myself as even kilter as possible.  Sure, I could be a regular woman by day. People were more likely to take me serious if I was acting stable, so I work to keep the crazy under wraps. Business attire by day, caged animal at night.

I opened my eyes feeling myself return to the fine upstanding citizen I liked to project. Grabbing a towel, I sensed I was no longer alone. Drying my hands I looked up to see a familiar face. Not that I knew the guy, but he was certainly recognizable even dressed down as he was. His glass blue eyes shined, his stark blonde hair blazed in the darkened room, and his Cheshire Cat grin was unmistakable.

"Good evening, Mr. Rhodes." I said politely with a smirk.

"And a good evening to you, Ms. Kelly. That was one hell of a match out there."

I tossed the towel down, picked up my bag and smirked at him. "I appreciate that, but Denny has a way of making people look good."

Cody shrugged. "I've seen other videos of you. There are some of your European tour around two years ago. More from five years ago when you toured the states and Mexico. It's impressive."

I shrugged. "Well, a lot of people can catch some of that stuff on YouTube. I'm just now kind of getting back in after a small hiatus. It has been a little harder to catch attention now that there are more female wrestlers getting the spotlight. It's nice that some people are seeing some stuff I've done." I stood there attempting to make it look like I wanted to walk out, but I could tell Rhodes wasn't going to move out of my way. In fact, he stepped into the room, moving closer to the lockers and leaned against them.

Running a hand across his jaw and scratching what seem to be a tiny bit of stubble on his face, he smiled at me. "Do you have any idea why am here?" he asked.

"I'm guessing it has something to do with that company you got started a while ago."

Cody grinned. "So, you have heard of us. What do you think?"

I put my bag down realizing that we were in for an actual talk. I wasn't opposed to the man. It was more of a guarded feeling I had. Too many times have I seen people that I respected in the business get picked up off an independent circuit and then molded into something they weren't. Cody Rhodes had a reputation for being different, but I didn't have the connections I once had to find out for sure.

"Well, I haven't seen a whole lot of my kind of style in your women's division. Your Japanese  headliners are  awesome and you have some amazing talents. But, I am a hardcore queen. Pure brawler style. I am a very much a supporter of inter gender matches and tag matches. You guys don't do that." I said with a blunt edge to my voice.

"Yeah, well, in the beginning we weren't really sure what we wanted. There were some that felt we needed to keep the inter gender matches off the shows and even others that wanted us to limit the blood when it came to the women's division.  Now, with a year under our belts and the new outlook we have brought to fans, we have more people wanting those back alley bar fight matches.  There is also more people wanting to see women go up against some of the men, and a lot of our guys are open to it.  A couple of them you have already worked with." Cody said.

"I know who is on your roster.  You don't have to give me the run down."  I said a little louder than I had intended.  The issue for me was there was a few people, and one in particular, I was not on good terms with.  When I walked out on wrestling, I had walked out on several friends and relationships in order to get my life in order. 

"Ah, well, we all have ghosts, Kit." Cody said softly and his face gave way to an expression of regret.  There was a heavy silence that fell on the room, and I heard a bang from some pyro for the last match.

"Well, are you going to make it to the point of your visit?" I asked.  Cody seemed to shake it off and slid a hand into his jacket.  Pulling out a thick brown envelope, he said "This is not a contract.  It is an offer of temporary employment to determine if we have a permanent place for you with our family.  Come and work out with us, do some dark matches, make some connections.  Get back into the business and let's see what happens." 

He held this envelope out to me.  My impulse to take it was strong, but my body didn't move.  He smiled and set it down on the bench.

"I am not going to change your name.  I am not going to change who you are.  No one is.  We want Kit Kelly - whoever she is right now, and we hope to be a part of whoever she is in the future.  Where we go from here is up to you.  Read it.  Think on it.  If you sign, I will see you in San Antonio Monday morning.  We have a show coming up and some of us got in early."  He turned and began walking down the hall whistling as he went.

"Jesus." I whispered to myself.

[nevergiveupneverrun]

Bodyguard - Bonus chapter Sixty-Nine "Disillusionment"

Hello, how are you? It’s been a long long time. I'm truly sorry, it's been a crazy year. Here is chapter Sixty-Nine of my Story Bodyguard, yay! It’s the last bonus chapter and the last chapter of Bodyguard! I hope you will like this chapter.

I’m sorry in advance for the mistakes… English isn’t my first language and I do my best. Here is the link to the previous chapter: Click Here.

I hope you will enjoy this chapter :) 💛

–––––––––––––––––––––––

3 months later

How could you do that?

Why did you run away like this?

It’s the worst decision of your whole life… you lost so much with this choice… I’m not sure she forgives you…

Sitting in one of the spooky rooms of the Special Services Branch, Rosie’s words and questions see popping up like a nagging litany in my mind. Back in the United States, not without difficulty with my cover identity, Rosie was the first person I visited. The reunion was intense in emotion and tears… it was only after two hours that she managed to calm down realizing that I was alive and understanding what I was awkwardly trying to explain to her about the real situation.

My death: smokescreen.

My role of spy.

My identity was abandoned in favor of my homeland so that I endorse the characters necessary for my missions.

I spent a total of 4 days with Rosie, in this little locality of Canada that I love so much and which soothes me more. After a certain distance and reserve, she had ended after two days by returning to her usual behavior with me and fully integrating my presence at her side. And it is on these last two days that her questions and her words have completely come to light: no matter how hard I tried to justify my choice, she didn’t understand it. I tried for my part to collect some elements on Amelia… as if to prepare myself for this.

Rosie had thus revealed to me that Amelia visited my parent’s house at least once a year, probably using the key I had given her. She usually stayed there for a week, preferably in the spring, and enjoyed the moments she shared with Rosie, away from the hustle and bustle of the city and her occupation, because obviously, her status was unchanged: an essential artist of the American scene.

I realized, however, that Rosie was sticking to basic information and not telling me anything about what had become Amelia’s life: all the more specific and personal questions that I was trying to ask her, Rosie refused to answer, giving me for all feedback: "You must ask these questions to Amelia. It is up to her to answer you." The mystery was still there for me, as I was back in Seattle:

Is Amelia okay?

How had she lived these almost two years which have passed?

Has she found that hint of happiness that I wished for her when I decided to leave?

--

The cracking of the door takes me out of my memories… and the silhouette of my most loyal supporter appears and walks confidently into the room. A thin smile spreads over my face, like a relief to recognize a familiar face after these two years living in the lie, where I have known only threats and enemies. I get up and shyly take a step forward then take him in my arms for a long second.

- It makes me happy to see you, Nathan…

- Me too Owen… glad to see you got out of this mission…

We stay silent for a few moments, then I go back and take a little distance. I feel his benevolent gaze on me as if he was studying every detail to detect the differences left by time and by my cover identity.

- I see you adopted the three-day beard look… it changes you… he resumes smiling.

- Yes, the budding beard was part of the look of my blanket and I decided to keep it in… it seems fashionable, considering the number of men that I see in the streets of Seattle, I conclude with a smile.

Nathan nods then I can see his face take on a more serious and almost darker appearance.

- How are you, Owen?

The question seems the simplest possible… and yet the tone he uses lets me guess all the meaning he associates with it. I lower my eyes a few seconds before trying my hand at an answer.

- I’m glad to be back home… but the situation is much more difficult than I thought…coming back from the dead is not really a scenario that I have already had the opportunity to prepare…

- Logically, you shouldn’t go through this, given the choice you made almost 2 years ago…

- Yes, I know… and I remember very well that you warned me. But at that moment, 2 years ago, I was convinced I was making the right decision for everyone. And above all, I was convinced that I was the strongest… that the reason would be the strongest.

- I’m not here to lecture you, Owen… I’m here to help you if I can…

He slips a hand into his suit jacket pocket and takes out two items: an envelope and a bunch of keys.

- Here is the key to your apartment: I asked to keep it and not to sell it as you asked me before… I suspected you might change your mind.

I collect the keys, a look grateful for the lucidity of Nathan who knew me better than anyone… even myself.

- And in the envelope?

- In the envelope… that’s what I fought for a week and your call announcing your return. I managed to give you back your Owen Hunt identity, to have your death canceled after long discussions with the management…but you lose your agent status… they don’t want to hear from you anymore.

I was speechless for a few seconds.

What I was doing was completely outside the rules. When you sign up as a spy, it’s a lifelong commitment… the identity that you lose, you abandon it forever. I never imagined that I could have found my life before, back to my true identity…coming back I had prepared to consider an entire life under a new name. Nathan gave me an unexpected and invaluable gift.

- Ho…how did you manage to…

- Don’t worry, he interrupts me, pushing the envelope on the table in my direction. In there you will find all your papers: passport, identity card, license… for the administration, your death never took place and you are an American taxpayer like all.

- I don’t know what you say… I hope you haven’t risk for your situation.

- You know, my career is more behind me than in front of me… I have no more to lose, he says with a smile.

- Thank you, Nathan…

These are the only words that come to me. Words that I express in a breath, won by the unfailing commitment that he shows to me.

- On the other hand, you imagine the compensation…you have no interest in being noticed in any way that it is regarding the authorities and do no imagine having to ask for any support if you were considering becoming a bodyguard again.

- Of course, I understand… but anyway, I don’t intend to completely resume my previous life.

- What are you going to do then?

- I don’t know yet…I have enough money aside to be able to take the time to give another meaning to my professional life…but I know I won’t be able to be anyone’s bodyguard after this experience…

A silence of a minute or more suddenly sets in.

My gaze remains on the bunch of keys and the envelope that materializes this life that I thought was lost forever…I rediscovered my identity, my apartment, and my memories, and yet I knew that some things were different. Things that would be much more difficult to find.

- Do you plan to see her again? Is that why you came back?

Nathan’s question pierces the silence and targets precisely the biggest unknown of my return as Owen Hunt.

- Yes…I did not manage to forget her…I realized that I am more unhappy far from her, that I suffer more than in any other situation. Even if I don’t live up to her expectations…I need to know…to try to be who she expects.

- I won’t tell you anything about Amelia, you have to confront her alone…but know that two years is short and long at the same time…and your "death" was a terrible ordeal for her…I don’t know how she will react when she sees you again…but prepare yourself psychologically… she went through very difficult times.

Everything Nathan expresses to me, I was already anticipating. But hearing my fears and thoughts thus confirmed by a third party, one of those I trusted the most, only increased my nervousness.

- She…is she fine?

- Yes, she’s fine Owen… I haven’t stopped keeping an eye on her since you left as you asked me. Your return will however be a real shock. She’s been healing her pain for the past two years… she loved you really, you know…

The past that Nathan uses makes me tense despite myself, but I try not to pay too much attention to it. In two years, many things could have changed: for her, maybe I was just a memory…

- Just tell me, what do you hope by seeing her again? Why are you planning to see her again and come back to her life?

- I…I just hope to explain to her that I regret my decision…that this is the only outcome that I imagined, two years ago, I was not ready for anything else, unfortunately…that I blame myself for all this pain that I inflicted on her…

- And now are you ready for something else?

- Yes…beyond all that, I have this somewhat crazy hope, that she hasn’t forgotten me… that the feelings that you evoked are not completely extinguished…

I realize by expressing aloud my previously inner hopes that they may seem completely utopian…and at the same time, I’m in a state of mind to tell myself that I have nothing to lose.

I have already lost so much in the last two years.

I don’t want to have any more regrets, unanswered questions.

Even if I come out with a broken heart, I will know…I will have tried everything…to no longer live with these regrets and these doubts that consume me a little more every day.

- I hope the outcome will be happy for you Owen… but prepare yourself… the journey may still be difficult… and you risk suffering even more…

I nod, but my conviction is stronger than anything…a question burns me despite everything…

- Do you think it’s lost in advance… that I don’t stand a chance?

Nathan looks down as if to think, then quickly finds my pupils.

- I do not predict what may happen… I have never been good at guessing women's reactions, especially when it comes to love… he retorts, a smile in his voice.

I smile back, which relaxes me a bit, after these exchanges marked by a certain tension for me.

- How am I going to find her?

- She lives at an address that you know well…

He lets the mystery hover for a few seconds, before revealing the information I miss.

- Amelia returned to Madison Park… she had the house that was so dear to her rebuilt, as to foil the fate and misfortune that may have taken place there a few years ago.

The revelation made just now by Nathan leaves me wondering and admiring… she found the strength to start over in this place, which corresponded the most to a « home » which she missed so much during her childhood and adolescence. Her strength of character will always impress me… some things had not changed, and my hope is rekindled a little more.

- Good luck, Owen…

Nathan warmly shakes my hand, while placing his other hand on my shoulder.

- I hope happiness awaits you at the end of the road for both of you, you deserve it.

- Thanks for everything Nathan… sincerely…

--

Later in the night

--

The images from the talk with Nathan fulfill my expectations, shifting me from hope to despair.

Here I am again in Madison Park, a few steps from a house that crystallizes all my anguish but also my wishes. This evening in May is particularly sweet and brings back memories of times spent in the same neighborhood, a certain summer. I realize that in 3 months, it will be precisely 2 years since I left her life….that I officially died for her…

I get off my motorbike, the waiting motionless, sitting on my motorbike becoming unbearable. A glance at my watch reveals to me that it is 9 pm: I have already been waiting for an hour…the house remains desperately dark, with no sign of life.

Does Amelia have any commitments outside of Seattle?

Maybe I’m stupidly waiting for nothing and she won’t make an appearance tonight?

I doubt.

I hesitate.

The wait allowed me to observe the details of the house…it seems to have been rebuilt as faithfully as possible to the original building: the same porch with staircase and columns, same large windows to let in light. The only noticeable difference that I notice is the terrace which was built a little more in the corner and the back as if to be better protected from view and the outside.

--

The roar of an engine suddenly gets closer and I make out a taxi driving down the quiet street of this district of Madison Park until it stops in front of this house that I could have drawn with my eyes closed.

The beating of my heart activates immediately in a thousandth of a second.

Without thinking, like on autopilot, my legs start to move and slowly approach the house. I soon see a silhouette getting out of the car.

A female silhouette, dressed in a leather jacket, revealing a guitar bag on the back.

The detail confirms the identity of this young woman for good.

It’s her…she is there, a few meters from me.

My pace quickens as she climbs the steps to her front door. She looks for her keys in her bag for a few seconds, a reprieve that allows me to make up my delay and to place myself silently on the penultimate step of her porch.

I hear the clinking of her set of keys in her hand.

I take a deep breath, my heart seems ready to explode in my chest.

My lips finally let this name escape, which I have whispered every night for so long months while climbing the last two steps to find myself at her height.

- Good evening Amelia…

A metallic and muffled sound then rises.

My gaze catches the silver reflection of the keys on the ground, fallen a few centimeters behind her. The shock of my voice visibly made her escape from her hands.

Her back is still facing me. She stays motionless.

I recognize her silhouette much more precisely. The first detail that strikes me is her hair, which only reaches her shoulders…and this feeling that she is even more fragile and thin than before as if she had lost weight…

I perceive her hands to take place along her body.

Her left hand then starts to shake mechanically.

I speak again as gently as possible to dispel her anguish and shock.

- Amelia…calm down…I know it’s unbelievable at this moment…but it’s me…Owen…

I can see her breathing becoming more jerky and difficult as her shoulders and back jump slightly, and her strong, forced breath echoes up to my ears.

A little helpless in front of her paralysis, I immediately reveal the truth of the situation, the deception that I imagined.

- The truth is… it’s that I did not die at the Music Awards Evening…

Following these words, her body moves slowly in profile and she turns completely.

I discovered her for the first time of these long months, a few centimeters from me.

I recognize the details of her face, then discover this new haircut that looks great on her…but her eyes escape me as she keeps her gaze down. As if she refused to discover my image.

- What you saw almost two years ago… was a smokescreen…

An unexpected reaction then takes place before my eyes: she lifts her face in a sudden movement. But I hardly have time to discover her as a sharp and loud snap hits my right cheek. A slap where she seems to have put all her strength and anger. I close my eyes for a few moments in shock.

I hear her breathing still strong, but the rhythm is slightly different marked more by anger than fear.

I end up looking up and opening my eyes again.

She is there, in front of me, her eyes red and misted with tears. Her wide eyes reveal a vibrant intensity which studies me…observe me…almost rediscover me.

Her features are hard, her expressionless face. The reflection of hurt and shocked woman.

- I can’t go back, but…

- What are you doing here? She interrupts me, with a hint of aggression in her voice. Does your little smokescreen life no longer suit you? She continues with a touch of sarcasm, behind which however I perceive a sharp pain.

In the worst-case scenario I had imagined, I had not considered her first words to be so harsh and scathing…filled with blame and anger. Despite myself, I am destabilized by the turn of events. I was not prepared for this confrontation…for a meeting so fraught with tension.

A few seconds pass in an electric atmosphere.

I study her face, noticing a new emotion take place…anger gives way to pain.

And it is in a less assured and almost trembling voice that she takes the floor again.

- I can’t believe you staged your own death…after all that may have happened… all that I have been able to experience…

- I know it sounds completely illogical… and unforgivable, but just let me explain…

- It doesn’t matter, leave me alone…you are no longer part of my life… she whispers tiredly.

- Amelia, I understand the show this is for you, but…

Footsteps rise behind my back and a voice rings out, interrupting me in my explanations as a silhouette settles alongside Amelia.

- Amelia, everything is fine?

I recognize Andrew with surprise… and my eyes widen even more when I discover a baby, asleep in his arms.

Amelia silently nods to her question and stretches out her hands to take the baby.

She focuses on the arrival of Andrew and this toddler, behaving like I am no longer there.

I remain paralyzed in front of the scene and these exchanges, taken aback by the flow of information that accumulates and collides in my mind.

Andrew watches Amelia pick up the toddler, kiss his forehead, then finally turns his attention to me. I notice his feature wrinkle for a few seconds, then tighten as he recognizes me.

He observes me a little more intense but remains silent.

Amelia, the baby still in her arm, retrieves her keys from the ground and slips them into the lock.

The door creaks open and she steps into the house.

- Andrew…

A touch of exasperation and annoyance awakens in Amelia’s call, while Andrew remains as if fascinated by my presence.

- Yes, honey, I am coming, he finally responds by breaking the connection with my face and coming back in his turn.

The term of affection concludes to answer my questions and to tighten my heart a little more.

A heavy ebony door closes quickly and gradually in front of me while the gaze of the one, who has haunted my days and my nights so much, refuses me…ignoring me completely, as if to show me that I am only a memory for her… a forgotten past and that she does not want to relive.

Before the door closes completely, a few words reach me as the last connection with this woman whom I have betrayed and hurt deep inside.

- Goodbye, Owen…leave us alone.

–––––––––––––––––––––––

Thank you for reading this chapter and this story. It was a great journey with you guys! Hope you will like it.

I wrote a new story about omelia and I don't know if you are interested and if you want to read it. I can post the first chapter and you will tell me if you want to read it or not!

Stay safe and be happy 💛

[theydontknowaboutusimagines]

Sunflower - Harry Styles AU Series (Volume 5)

The year is 1977 and it’s officially summertime. Y/N is spending it with her family at the Malibu Breeze Hotel, where she meets, aspiring musician, Harry Styles. The two clash in the beginning, but soon realize they may just need each other in the end. Find out just how life changing one summer can be in Sunflower, a Harry Styles AU.

    Here is part 5 of Sunflower. Hope you enjoy it!

 Vol. 1  Vol. 2   Vol. 3  Vol. 4

Word Count: 2,144k

I had every intention to sleep in the morning, but both Marianne and I were woken up by our mother who insisted we join our parents for breakfast. Even though I was annoyed at my lack of sleep that was quickly catching up with me, it had been awhile since we shared a meal as a family. Or really done anything as a family since arriving here.

Dad still had his meetings, while Mom spent her days with the wives of other men in my father’s business. Then of course, Marianne did her own thing. I brushed through my hair as I got ready, feeling Marianne’s gaze on me.

“So, how’s everything going with you?” She asked me. “I’ve noticed you have been here most nights lately.”

“Interesting because neither have you,” I pointed out.

“Touche,” she laughed. “But seriously, how’s it going? I know you’re in Harry’s band now and that you played with them at The Soundbooth. Shame I heard it from Jessie, who was there and not my own sister.”

“I’m sorry,” I sighed. “I didn’t know I would be playing there and I guess I didn’t tell you about it after because I figured you didn’t care.”

Marianne bites her lip, “Y/N, I know we haven’t been close, but I’m still your sister. I love you and care about you, besides I’m the one who pushed you to do this because I believe in you. So, yeah, you’re damn right I want to know what’s going on with you.”

I hid back a smile, “Okay.”

“Promise?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Promise,” I nodded.

Once both of us were finished getting ready, we walked down to the dining hall where my parents were waiting. We saw them sitting at their table, but we noticed they weren’t alone. There was a guy who appeared to be around our age give or take a few years sitting at the side of the table by my father. He wore a fancy dress shirt and slacks, too fancy for the beach, and short blonde hair slicked back.

I looked over at Marianne, wondering if maybe he was a friend of hers, trying to impress our father, but she wore the same confused expression as I did. The closer we got, the more confused I became. Whoever the guy was, my father knew him well, based on their conversation and body language.

“Oh, there you girls are,” my mother smiled practically clapping her hands together.

My mother’s statement put my father and this mystery guest's conversation on pause as they all looked at us.

“Y/N, Marianne, I would like you to meet William, he’s George’s son,” My father said.

Ah, the bosses’ son.

“Wonderful to meet you,” Marianne snorted before sitting down.

“Hello,” I nodded sitting down next to Marianne.

“So, Y/N, I invited William here today because he’s visiting from Boston and I thought he could share with you what University is like there,” My father said, picking up his glass of orange juice.

It took everything I had to not roll my eyes, “Oh, um, thank you… for that,” I said.

Marianne was smirking behind her glass and wanted to kick her.

“Y/N, your dad’s told me you’re still unsure of where you want to go,” William said.

“Well, I mean... “ I started.

“It’s completely understandable. Women haven’t exactly been attending college for long,” he said. “Do you know of what you might major in?”

“She’s talked about teaching perhaps,” my father interrupted.

“Oh, that’s perfect and certainly needed,” William said. “There are many wonderful colleges and Universities in Boston that have excellent teaching programs.”

“Wonderful,” I mumbled, biting off a piece of toast.

And that’s exactly how the rest of breakfast went, my father and William having a conversation with us commenting here and there. I try not to be one who judges someone right away, but I could tell that William was a pretentious dick who lived off Daddy’s money.

Yes, my family had money and were well off compared to most, but I didn’t talk about it or wear fancy clothing to show it off either.

Finally, the meal was over and Marianne and I were just about to make a break for it, when William spoke up.

“A few friends of mine are heading out for a boat ride soon, if you two would care to join,” he said. “We could talk some more about Boston.”

“That sounds lovely, doesn’t it girls?” My father asked, looking at both Marianne and I.

I wanted to decline, to go about my day doing what I needed to do to prepare for rehearsal that evening, but the look on my father’s face told me exactly what I needed to do.

“Sure, we’ll meet you down at the Marina once we change,” I said.

**

Neither Marianne or I said anything as we changed into our bathing suits. There was more to William inviting us to hangout with his friends than him just being nice. The odds my father arranged for his invite were quite high. He was pushing for me to make a decision about school, especially since the start of the school year was just around the corner. But I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do or where I wanted to go. I needed a plan and it all depended upon what happened with Harry’s band.  

When we arrived at the marina, William and a group of five or six were loading onto one of the biggest boats I’d seen since being here. I don’t know what I was expecting, to be honest, but I should have known it wasn’t going to be an average boat.

“Ladies! Welcome, welcome! Come aboard!” William shouted, motioning his arms around.

“All I know is there better be some fancy ass beer,” Marianne mumbled. “And snacks.”

“If not we could always jump ship and swim our way back,” I suggested.

“Yeah, and have Dad flip? How we act around him and his rich little friends reflects Dad,” she said. “This little arrangement isn’t random.”

“I figured as much,” I said following behind her up the dock and on to the boat.

“You two are looking dynamite,” he winked. “We have drinks, snacks, and help. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask Harry and Jasper.”

I froze scanning the boat hoping William was talking about a different pair named Harry and Jasper. Unfortunately, he was not, standing there holding a pitcher of lemon water was Harry. His hair was clipped back on top of his head in his light blue Malibu Breeze uniform. He looked annoyed and miserable, until his eyes landed on me.

I smiled and waved my fingers at him. He walked over to me and Marianne, “Water, miss?” He asked, annoyance dripping from his voice.

“Oh, we’re fine,” Marianne answered before I could open my mouth.

And then he walked away.

“Did you know he was going to be here?” Marianne asked as we sat down at the front of the boat.

“No, and he doesn’t look like he knew I would be here either,” I sighed.

“Okay, look, I know you’re part of his band, but you can’t make it seem like you know him. If William suspects that you know Harry outside of him working at the hotel, he could tell Dad and then he’ll shit on your parade before it even gets started,” she said.

“That’s real rich coming from you,” I told her. “I’m the one who keeps to herself most of the time, but now I’m the one who is going to fuck things up for Dad if I’m not on my best behavior.”

Marianne glared at me, “You know what fine, if you want to be a bitch, go right ahead.”

With that she pushed herself off the bench, stomping her way towards the rest of the group. I sighed looking out at the ocean as the boat started to pick up speed. Marianne was right, but I couldn’t put on a facade just to impress someone, that was something she did and was good at. It’s one of the many reasons why she got away with so much.

“There you are,” I heard a male voice from behind me.

For a moment, the voice belonging to Harry crossed my mind, but as soon as I turned around William was the one standing there.

“Not a fan of a crowd?” He asked nodding towards the group of his friends behind us.

“Um, not really no,” I said. “So, this is your boat?”

“My father’s,” William said, sitting next to me. “Although, I’m the one who uses it the most with him being in the office all the time.”

I nodded, “How long are you here for?”

I didn’t really care other than wondering how long he would be around to try and tell me all about Boston.

“A few weeks actually,” he said. “I’ve got time off from my internship, so I thought I’d come here.”

“Hm, from the way you talked about Boston this morning I’m surprised you want to leave,” I snorted.

He laughed, “Yeah, well sometimes we need a change of scenery, right?”

“I guess,” I nodded.

“Teaching, huh?” He asked.

“Honestly, I’m not sure,” I told him, not sure why, but the words came out of my mouth before I could stop them. “There’s a lot I don’t know about my future, but my dad- he wants me to go to University. I think he wants me to follow in his footsteps, business, you know? But I’ve seen what he goes through and I don’t want that.”

“That would be hard, especially when you get around to having a family,” he said.

“Yeah,” I said, side-eyeing him.

Our conversation turned silent after that, both of us sitting beside the other. Glancing over at him, I noticed he looked different than he had earlier that morning. His blonde hair no longer slicked back, but blowing freely in the wind. He wore bright orange swimming shorts with a white tank top. A small light colored beard poked through his chin, glistening in the sunlight.  

After a while, I needed to get away. I asked for the bathroom, which was below deck. Of course, this boat would have a bathroom. Walking past the group and Marianne, who was laughing and joining in with the group like they’ve been friends for years instead of an hour, I found the steps heading down below.

Luckily, my plan had worked and Harry was down there, plating more snacks onto trays.

“Hey,” I said softly.

He looked up from his tray of food, “Need something?”

“No, I uh, I just… I wanted to see you,” I told him.

“Hm, you mean your boyfriend’s okay with you being down here conversing with the help?” He asked.

“William? He’s not my boyfriend,” I said, confused. “And even if he was, I would still be down here talking to you regardless of what he thought.”

“Right,” Harry said. “Look, I think it’s best if you just go about your business and I’ll go about mine. I’m working and I don’t get paid to talk to the guests, so if you’ll excuse me.”

“And just like that you’re back to be a complete ass!” I snapped. “What is wrong with you? I thought we moved past this last night.”

“This is who I am, Y/N, you might as well get used to it,” he said before walking up the steps, taking the tray of food with him.

**

My time being stuck on the boat was finally over. Jasper docked the boat at the marina and everyone started gathering their belongings. I couldn’t get off fast enough. Harry ignored me the rest of the trip and his face was in a permanent scowl. William staying close to me and at one point putting his arm around my shoulder, didn’t help any.

“Y/N! Wait,” William yelled after me just as I reached the ramp onto the dock.

“Yes?” I asked.

“Would you like to join me for dinner in the dining hall tonight?” He asked.

“Oh, I uh, I’m afraid I have plans tonight,” I replied.

“Oh, what time?” He asked.

“Um, around 9,” I said.

“Perfect,” he smiled. “We can have dinner around seven, see you then?”

“I-” I started to say, but he interrupted.

“Great. I’ll meet you in the lobby,” he smiled, kissing my cheek before heading back onto the boat.

I stared straight ahead to where Harry was standing there witnessing what just happened with me and William. The veins of his arms popped out as his grip tightened around the rope in his hands. I opened my mouth to say something to him, but he just walked right past me, not uttering a word.

**

Let me know what you thought!

Also, if you have any ideas you would like me to include in part 6, send those in. 

[minsugapie]

Miscommunication 2/2 (Yoongi’s POV)

pairing: Yoongi x reader

genre: fluff, trusfration, slight angst if you squint, one shot (part 2)

words: 3712

a/n: if you haven’t, please read part 1 because although this is in yoongi’s pov, only one scene overlaps!!

• • • • • •

PART 1

• • • • • •

The first time Yoongi saw you, you were standing in line at Starbucks. You ended up ordering his favourite drink. While he was taken by you, you failed to notice him, having been completely immersed in the music you were listening to. He didn’t mind; however, because seeing you content forced an aura of calmness to wash over him. He watched from his table where he’d been working on a project as other people (men) stole glances at you. You were wearing tight pants, enough to show off your legs. He felt oddly protective, and wanted to give you his flannel to wrap around your waist. But before he could even finish imagining the impossible scenario inside his head, you were walking out the door with a small smile on your face after you took the first sip of your drink. Sighing deeply, he went back to his work, not entirely focused on what he was doing anymore. 

Since that day, Yoongi began to see you everywhere—on campus, at the mall, at his favourite restaurants, and even out with his friend Jimin. Jimin and Yoongi had known each other since first year when they shared a class, and Yoongi liked how loyal Jimin was as a friend. Although Yoongi had many friends, there was only a select few that he called his best friends. 

One afternoon, when Yoongi was waiting for Jimin to meet him for lunch, was the day he realized that Jimin actually knew who you were. He spotted the two of you walking together, Jimin’s arm around your shoulders protectively. You laughed at something he said before pushing him off of you and walking in the opposite direction. You looked back quickly, but only so that you could send him a quick wink and a wave goodbye. 

Jimin walked up to Yoongi, who was still watching you walk in the other direction. When Jimin reached him, he followed Yoongi’s line of vision, not entirely sure what he was watching since you were surrounded by people. 

“What are you looking at?” He asked Yoongi, waving a hand in front of his face. 

“Oh,” he blinked a few times before answering, “Uh, that girl that you were just walking with…are you two together?” Yoongi was nervous to ask him this question. You’d been taking up his every though, consuming his mind and body more than he’d like to admit. You were the inspiration for all of his latest music, and he didn’t even know who you were. Heck, he didn’t even know if you’d ever even noticed him before. He was never one to shy away from staring at you, and it frustrated him sometimes because GOD you were the most oblivious person he’d ever seen. If only you’d make eye contact with him just once, he’d have the courage to talk to you. 

“Who? Y/N? No, we’ve known each other since high school. She’d a good buddy…” Jimin explained, narrowing his eyes at Yoongi. “Why?”

Yoongi cleared his throat before straightening his back and starting the walk to the restaurant. “I’ve just been seeing her around. That’s all.” He tried to hide his interest, but he knew that he had a terrible poker face—but only when it came to women. He wasn’t entirely telling a lie, but he wasn’t giving the entire story either. 

“You’re lying.”

Yoongi looked down at his feet when he walked, wondering how he should respond. “Fine. I have been seeing her around, but I can’t get her out of my head. Every time I’ve seen her plays whenever I close my eyes. I have no escape.”

Jimin sighed, and Yoongi automatically wondered why. “She’s not really into guys.”

Yoongi paled, all hope vanishing from his body. “She likes women?”

Jimin smiled and released a small chuckle. “It’s not like that. She doesn’t have any desire to be with anyone, I guess. She doesn’t sleep around, and she doesn’t go on dates. She likes being alone. Besides, I’ve heard about the previous guys she’s taken a liking to, and they’re all opposite from you. I wouldn’t say you’re exactly her type, hyung.”

“Oh.” Yoongi’s hope returned, but only slightly because of what Jimin said. 

“What’s her type then?” 

Jimin couldn’t help but smile again. “What are you going to change for her?” He joked and nudged Yoongi in the arm. 

“No,” Yoongi groaned, “I just want to know if I even have an inkling of a chance.”

“I don’t want to give you hope, but I really don’t know for sure…”

Neither of the two of them said anything more until they say down at the table to order. 

“What about my birthday next week? What if you brought her?” Yoongi offered. He had to do something. There was no way that he was letting you slip between his fingers. He would regret it for the rest of his life. 

“I can try to convince her. She likes to party, I guess…” Jimin answered, taking sip of the water that the waitress brought to the table. 

Yoongi sighed again. Why did he have to be into somebody so aloof to dating culture?

• • • • • •

Yoongi’s birthday was tonight, and he was a ball of nerves. He had no idea how you were going to respond to him. Actually, he didn’t even know whether you’d even be there or not. Jimin said that you were still deciding. 

Yoongi’s best friend Hoseok was chilling on his couch watching some dancing videos on YouTube as Yoongi paced his apartment in anxious anticipation. 

“Dude, why are you stressin’?” Hobi asked, pausing his video to look at Yoongi. 

“Y/N may or may not be coming tonight.” Yoongi deadpanned, flopping onto the couch beside his friend. 

“Y/N? As in the only girl in your world for the last couple months? You invited her? You talked to her?!” Hobi’s interest piqued at the mention of her. He’d never seen his friend so invested in someone he hadn’t even met.

“No, apparently she’s Jimin’s good friend. I told him to invite her.” Yoongi revealed. He wondered then if he looked okay. Did he need a haircut. He was so stressed that he almost forgot to shave this morning. He was just glad that he hadn’t gotten a massive mountain on the top of his nose from stress. 

“Well, there we go! Now we just have to get her attention!”

“It might not be that easy,” Yoongi groaned, running his hands through his hair. 

“It’s your birthday tomorrow! Let’s have some confidence!” Hobi exclaimed, clapping his friend on the shoulder while hyping him up. 

“You’re right. I’m a handsome guy. I know how to talk to women…mostly…I can do it!”

“Yeah!”

“Cool…”

• • • • • •

The party at the bar was in full swing, and Yoongi tried his best not to think of you. He didn’t want to dampen his mood and ruin the night if you never showed up. You knew that Hobi tried his hardest to make sure that she would introduce herself by telling everyone over the loud speakers who didn’t actually know him to introduce themselves.

He’d almost lost all hope of talking to you, when Hobi elbowed him harshly in the ribs as he was talking to a classmate. You were in front of him, in all your glory, with a smile on your face. In fact, he’s so struck that he couldn’t even say hello to you. Thankfully, you broke the ice. It kicked his malfunctioning brain back into circuit. He was actually able to flirt with you. And it must’ve been enough because, surprisingly, you hadn’t rejected him. Even Jimin seemed surprised. 

It was safe to say that Yoongi was mesmerized by you all night. He didn’t want you to leave his side, literally ever. Even when he could tell that the bartender, Jackson, harboured a major crush on you, he still never fell from his high. All your attention was on him, and he couldn’t have been any happier about it. And then the kiss happened. That kiss the two of you shared on the dance floor sent his emotions into overdrive. He craved more of you, wanting to feel every bit of your skin under his palms. He wanted your fingers laced through his hair. He wanted all of you to himself. He no longer wanted to be at this party with all these people that seemed less than important now that he’d met you. You were all-consuming. He could feel you almost dangerously taking hold of every molecule in his body. He wasn’t sure what to call it. Was it love at first sight? Was he clinging onto a version of you that he’d created in his mind? Or was it something a little darker, a little scarier?

When you’d agreed to spend the night at his place, he almost burst into flames right then and there. You had no idea how much you affected him, not only sexually, but just the way you made him feel when you were around. He’d only ever felt butterflies around people before, but just like that first time he saw you in Starbucks, you calmed him. Just one look into his eyes, and he felt like he could conquer the world. He felt like he was invincible, that nothing could touch him. 

Deep inside, he wondered what you were thinking, and if you felt about him even the slightest way that he felt about you. 

• • • • • •

The week following his birthday was bliss. You’d agreed to meet with him again and again, not having to reply his night together with you because you’d created new memories, new moments of ecstasy, together. 

The fourth time you’d visited his apartment about two weeks into seeing each other, he did some serious thinking. You’d spent hours together—not only having sex—but also talking and getting to know each other a little better. He realized that the version of you that he’d created in his head was exactly who you were. You were kind and helpful, smart and witty, and also hilarious as hell. He’d realized that the calmness that he felt every time you were together was proof that he’d really experienced love at first sight. Christ, he knew that it was crazy to believe in such a thing, and if you’d asked him if he believed in it before seeing you for the first time, he would have laughed in your face. But here he was, holding you in his arms while you peacefully slept. He ran his hands through your hair, looking at your face. He took in the way your eyelashes fanned out over the top of your cheekbones, the way the shape of your nose perfectly complimented your face, the way your lips fluttered with every short breath you took. 

He simply couldn’t look away. Was watching you sleep considered creepy? Either way, you were his, or more, he was yours. In a second, your eyes fluttered open, meeting his. He didn’t look away, and his heart swelled when you smiled at him in response. You pulled back, much to his dismay, to ask, “What time is it?”

Yoongi didn’t want to answer because whenever you did, you left him there all alone with only the memories of your time together. But he couldn’t ignore you, so he reached over you and tapped his phone. It was past curfew for you to get back to your dorm before they locked the doors on you.

“Yoongi!” You complained when he told you, throwing the covers over your head in frustration. 

“What’s the big deal? Just sleep here tonight and I’ll walk you to class tomorrow,” he suggested, wanting nothing more than for you to curl back into him and fall asleep once again. 

You peeked your nose out of the blanket in such a cute way that he almost lost it. “You’d let me stay here?” 

“Sure. Why not?” He said, grabbing your waist and pulling you back to his chest. You were wearing one of his shirts, and he really wished that you weren’t wearing one at all. But, he knew you felt more comfortable that way. 

“Okay,” you whispered, placing a small kiss on his cheek. His heart skipped a beat, and he was sure that you’d felt it. You didn’t comment, but you snuggled into him and quickly fell asleep again. 

He felt the need to ask fate why they’d let him be so lucky.

• • • • • •

Word had gotten around that Yoongi and you had been sleeping together. Yoongi couldn’t believe that you were his girlfriend. It was like you were perfect for each other. Not once had you fought. Well, obviously you debated on some topics, but nothing was ever in hatred or malice. He liked how stubborn you could be when defending what was right, and he loved that you weren’t ever afraid to be exactly who you were. 

The only thing that slightly bothered him was that he was now hyper aware of all the men’s attention that you successfully captures wherever you went. He would still see you places, and you wouldn’t notice him. You didn’t notice anyone else either, which was what really kept him sane. 

He wouldn’t ever say that he was jealous, because not once had he seen you express interest in anyone, so it was hard to label what he was feeling. Maybe it was a natural protectiveness that came when you were dating someone? 

He was hanging out with Hobi one night when he asked him, “What do you think of Y/N?”

Hobi coughed on the sip of his drink that he’d just taken. “What do you mean?”

Yoongi wasn’t asking him a loaded question, but he was just curious and couldn’t focus on the movie they were watching. “Do you think she’s hot?”

“Are you trying to torture yourself, hyung? I’m not going to answer that question.” Hobi replied, taking another sip of his drink, still trying to stop coughing. 

Yoongi obviously didn’t mean anything by it, but he’s curious about what his friends think. “It’s okay if you do. I just…don’t you think that she’s like a little too perfect?”

“I think that she’s perfect to you. Sure, she’s good looking, but from what you’ve told me, you’re just trying to rationalize why you like her so much. It’s okay to like her as much as you do. It was bound to happen. She could be your soulmate or whatever…” Hobi trailed off, looking out the window. Yoongi knew that Hobi believed that there was only one person that was made for everyone. 

But soulmate? He guessed he really liked the sound of that. “Is it too early to think that? It’s only been a month.”

“I think whatever you’re feeling is valid,” Hobi admitted before adding, “And honestly, I’m kinda jealous because I want to love somebody as much as you love her.”

He did love you, that much he was certain of. 

• • • • • •

Yoongi liked to study with you. Moreover, he liked to watch you study. You were cute when you concentrated, trying to take in all the information you could. He found your study habits interesting, and loved how excited you got when you explained to him something that you’d just learned. 

The place that you’d visit most often to study was a semi-popular bubble tea place a few blocks from his apartment. It was relatively quiet, so the two of you weren’t interrupted very often. 

Yoongi liked to always sit across from you, so he could brush his knees with yours and look at your face whenever he needed a study break (which was more often than he would’ve liked to admit). You looked particularly concentrated today, highlighting the passages in your book with your tongue sticking out. He wouldn’t stared at you for a while longer, but the flash of your phone getting a notification caught his attention. 

Normally, he went right back to work and didn’t care, but he clearly read the work Jackson. His interest was piqued. Why were you texting him? Slight insecurity flowed through him as he peeked back up at you. You still hadn’t noticed your phone buzzed. A second message came in not a minute later. 

He clearly read what they said, even if he was reading them upside down. 

[Hey, are we still on for our date tonight?]

[Btw I’m glad you finally agreed to this.]

Yoongi tried to stay calm, but it clearly stated that you were going on a date tonight—something that he was not okay with. Like at all.

Tapping your leg with one of his feet, he called your name. It took a second for you to register and take a headphone out of your ear. You hummed without even looking up at him. Oh, how he wished you would. He wanted to see what you were thinking, even though he always found you impossible to read. 

He wondered if you could read every thought that went through his head. He never tried to hide anything, but he knew that he wouldn’t have been able to even if he did. You, on the other hand, were impossible to read at the best of times. 

“You’re texting Jackson,” he deadpanned, pushing the phone closer to you. He gauged your face for a reaction. It paled, and for a brief millisecond he was able to see something readable. However, it left so quickly that he couldn’t decipher if. How frustrating! You had him like a puppet on strings, and he couldn’t even begin to know how you were feeling ever. 

“Yeah?” Was what you settled on responding. She said it like it wasn’t weird, like it was normal for people in monogamous relationships to be texting other people and setting up dates with them!

“Why?” He was still trying to stay at calm as possible. Maybe it was all a misunderstanding. He took off his headphone, giving you his complete attention. 

(Like you hadn’t had it before lol…)

“Because he likes me?” Was her answer. 

B-because he liKES HER? Yoongi was stunned by her words. Closing his eyes, he tried to find the words to respond. His mind was swirling with possibilities of her texting guys upon guys that weren’t her. It didn’t sound like her, but he wasn’t thinking straight and couldn’t rationalize properly. Finally, he managed, “Wait, are you dating other people?”

“Aren’t you?” She countered immediately, a mixed of worried and confused emotions on her face. Finally, he could read something that you were feeling. 

“What?” He almost spat…almost. He was getting extremely frustrated.

“Uhhh, what do you mean dating other people? We aren’t dating, Yoongi,” she concluded, crossing her hands and tilting her head. 

“We’re not?” The feeling was back. That one that he felt when he thought he didn’t stand a chance with you. He knew it was too good to be true, and he let Hobi talk him into believing that you were his soulmate!

“No?” 

Now he was getting mad. With a raised voice, he countered, “Hold on a second…how in hell are we not dating?” They did everything like a couple. The went on dates; they had sex; they texted; they talked about deeper things. 

“Because we didn’t ever talk about it! You never asked me to be your girlfriend, so I just assumed that you wanted it to be casual.” She scratched her head like she’d never been more confused. 

Yoongi couldn’t believe how much they’d not gotten straight. Clearly, the last thing he wanted was a casual relationship with you. He was all-in, and had been since he first saw you. He took a deep breath, trying not to raise his voice any longer, seeing as you were in public and in a recurring establishment. “Well, I definitely don’t want you taking other people, that’s for fuckin’ sure! I 100% haven’t seen anyone else since before my birthday. I’m sorry if that’s not what you want, but I want to be in a relationship with you.”

He hadn’t meant to swear at you, but he was trying to wrap his head around this conversation. You’d really wanted him to say the exact words, to ask to be your boyfriend. Looking back, he should have done it regardless, but instead he assumed like a dumbass. 

He bit his lip as he waited for your  response. You were fiddling with the pages of your textbook when he finally heard you whisper, “What’s what I want.”

Your small smile graced him, the absolute calm washing over him again. 

“Good. Now tell Jackson because if anyone is taking you on a date tonight, it’s going to be me.”

“Jackson who?” You said with a glint in your eye.

• • • • • •

Later, he guessed after your first official date of your confirmed relationship, Yoongi had to voice his insecurities. Unfortunately it had to be mid-makeout on his couch. Your were on his lap, doing everything right when thoughts of doubt crossed his mind. 

He pushed your shoulders back slightly, causing you to still.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, pushing his hair back from his face. He closed his eyes because he loved when you did that. You were so nurturing and always took care of him. 

“Did you ever hook up with anyone?” He was nervous, and he wished he didn’t care. It was entirely his fault if you did, but he needed to know. He was torturing himself; he knew it.

“I’m going to assume that you mean other than you since your birthday…”

Yoongi nodded quickly, lightly resting his hands on your hips. Although he was sitting, he felt as it he might fall over. 

You smiled and then ran a knuckle down his nose. “It’s only been you, Yoon,” you whispered in his ear, sending shivers down his spine. It was the closest he’d ever come to getting any sort of confusion of your actually liking him, and he would take it…for now. 

Closing the distance between the two of you again, he knew he would never get enough of you. It was like you were made just for him. 

Hobi was right. 

• • • • • •

MASTERLIST

[dusky-dancing]

The Prince and the Pirate - CH 2

For SoKai Week - Day 2

Story Summary: Sora finds himself far away from the walls of the Radiant Garden he's known his whole life, kidnapped by a rowdy group of pirates whose captain is as alluring as she is mysterious. What he thought was a simple hostage negotiation turns into an adventure that Sora couldn't have anticipated. He doesn't know which is worse, not knowing what's up ahead, or liking it that way.

Rating: T

Genre: Romance, Adventure, Pirate AU

Length: ~ 2k words

——————————————————–

Links for story navigation:

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

——————————————————–

"Kairi…"

He involuntarily breathed her name, and a playful smile grew across her face.

"That's my name," she nodded.

Despite the authority she obviously possessed, she remained kneeling at his eye-level. A show of acquaintance and equality. If she wasn't trying to intimidate him, then what could she possibly be after? Maybe she didn't want anything malicious from him, and this was nothing more than a hostage-for-money negotiation.

Or maybe it was all intentional. Nothing more than a trick, a warm and smiling cover to weaken his defenses.

"Who are you all?" he asked. "What do you want? Why me?"

"All questions I will answer in due time," she said. "What do you say we move this conversation somewhere more comfortable?"

"What, you have a cushier prison cell?"

She laughed, "Do you want to remain a prisoner?" Before he could respond, she turned to her two subordinates. "Take him to my quarters."

They both turned in surprise. "But captain-"

"It'll be fine," she nodded.

It wasn't until they hoisted him up, hands still tied behind his back, that she herself stood and led the march up the stairs. Her graceful steps didn't cause a stir from the worn wooden steps, but they creaked endlessly under every other boot.

"Don't try anything funny," Jessie mumbled in his ear.

Biggs laughed. "Where's he gonna go anyways? Swim all the way back?"

Clear blue skies soon greeted them, and the ocean air hit him in full force, not that the sensation was unwelcome.

Though Sora knew what a pirate ship was supposed to look like from stories, the true scale of a pirate ship surprised him. He craned his neck in order to see the sails, and even then he couldn't find the top of the mast from his position. The creaking and groaning of the ship were drowned out by the crew's work on the deck and the wind flapping the white sails.

All active work within Sora's eyesight, however, ceased once he emerged from his makeshift prison cell. He felt their eyes on him. Eyes of strangers, possibly more of his assailants. The bright sunlight kept him from taking in too many of their details, but he made out another woman and a few other men of varying sizes.

Sora must have been standing frozen for too long, because Biggs pushed him along. To the back of the ship they walked, where large wooden double doors stood decorated with plain glass. The Captain's quarters, where Kairi wanted to talk. Alone.

More questions clouded his mind as she pulled open both doors and disappeared into the room. It was comparatively dark inside, much easier on the eyes than the raw sunlight he'd just endured.

The room resembled less of a captain's living quarters than a decorative dining room. A single large table stood in the very center, enough to seat a dozen people. Various shelves, plants, and decorations filled the room comfortably, but Sora found himself too distracted to notice their details. The woman who'd ordered his kidnapping stood opposite of him, framed by a large glass window that put the entire ocean on display for him.

Again, she never held herself too high or with too much authority. Everything about her welcoming posture seemed intentional yet natural.

Biggs secured Sora in the chair across from her and left. Not a moment after her door closed did he begin unleashing his thoughts.

"What do you want? Why me? Is it money? Resources? Do you have any idea who you're messing with?"

Kairi held her hand up calmly. If his bombardment of questions annoyed her, she didn't show. Her dress pooled around her hips as she slowly took her seat opposite of him.

"Money is of no interest to me. I chose you, Sora, because you're the only one who can help me. Help us." She gestured around her whole ship.

"How?" he asked.

"I know who you are, Sora," she smiled. "You're the key to our success."

Her subtle emphasis on the word 'key' sent a shiver up his spine. It'd been years since he'd publicly called upon his abilities. His father had done well to keep them a secret from the outside world, but it was inevitable that someone, either the dark forces that plagued the seas or a hiring mercenary group, would find him eventually. The woman before him seemed to occupy the later group, though her methods were a bit more forceful than that of a simple business negotiation. On the off chance she belonged to the former motive, however, he instinctively scooted back. His hand twitched within his restraints.

"Don't be afraid." She said, and he was inclined to believe her despite his earlier instincts. "Our goal is for the good of everyone who lives on the ocean. You must understand that some missions don't allow the luxury of asking for help."

"What's this goal?" He thought back to rumors he'd heard within the kingdom. "Is this about the monsters in the ocean?"

She hummed, placing a finger over her lips. "I'll tell you more when we arrive at our destination, I promise."

Sora relaxed a bit in his chair, taking his eyes off of the woman before him to examine her quarters. Like the rest of the ship, the room had been carved entirely from wood, though its polish was much finer than his previous holding place. Naturally, the large window framed so intricately behind her drew his attention first. Scattered among the many shelves were various trinkets: a jewelry box, carved or sculpted animal figurines, atleast half-a-dozen plants he didn't recognize, nothing violent or overly extravagant. A small desk facing the window held an open ink well and dozens of papers secured under a large seashell weight. A discreet door off to the side likely led to her bed chamber.

The way natural light reflected off of the crystal chandelier above them made the chamber appear much brighter. It was...welcoming.

"So if I'm joining you on this secret mission, do I get a cool pirate code name? Or a pirate hat?"

He turned back to her, only to find her patience waning.

"This is serious, Sora," her eyes narrowed. "If you're to treat this like a fairytale, then it is clear you're not ready to know what we're after."

"I won't have to know," he said, "because the navy will find me first. They've got the fastest ships, you know."

Impatience gave way to a playful smirk as she leaned forward and rested her chin on her fingers. "Your naive overconfidence precedes you, Sora, but I wouldn't worry about them," she winked. "We've got a couple of tricks up our sleeves."

Sora sensed the pleasant tone leaving their conversation. "Don't hurt anyone," he pleaded. "We haven't done anything wrong to you."

"Relax, Sora. Our tricks are evasive, not confrontational. We won't hurt anyone who doesn't get in our way."

"And if I get in your way?" He smirked.

A soft playful smile pulled at her lips. "You are our way, Sora. None of this can be done without you."

Sora avoided her gaze. He was inclined to believe her again, though he didn't have much of a choice.

"What about after? When I've helped you with whatever this quest is."

"Well, we can return you safely to your castle be long gone before anyone notices. But I sense we won't be doing that, Sora."

"Why not?"

"Because I think you're not satisfied as being a trophy for your king, playing a hero prince but with nothing heroic to fight for." She leaned forward intently. "I understand, because I too have a gift."

Sora straightened, his heart stuttering. "You mean-" he looked to her hands, picturing her wielding a magical sword herself. It would explain why she hadn't carried one on her hip like the rest of her crew. "I thought I was the only one."

She shook her head and laughed, "You are one of a kind, Sora, that much is true. While your gift is more combative, mine is more…" she glanced to the side in thought, "elemental in nature."

Sora remained still, taking her and her words in. Even if their magic was the same, to meet another with an unnatural gift felt like the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. Perhaps that was why he'd been drawn to her from the start, how she'd found him in the first place. Had she been like him, kept within the confines of some kingdom or government, or used as a show of power?

He relaxed in his seat before meeting her gaze again. She watched him, waiting for an answer or a reaction.

"Well," he said, "you can't just drop that bomb on me without atleast showing me."

Her smile brightened. "I was beginning to fear you'd never ask." She then rose from her seat, made her way to the door, and gestured outside. "You'll see soon enough."

At her command, Biggs stepped through the doorway and lifted Sora to his feet.

"Is this really still necessary?" Sora asked. He looked towards Kairi, sure that she'd order his hands freed, but she'd already made her way to the deck.

"For now, it is," the man said as he led him along.

On the upper layer of the deck where the helmsman was positioned, The full size of the ship revealed itself. About half-a-dozen crew members, both men and women, worked away all around the deck. Sora's eyes followed the central mast to the crow's nest, where another man focussed through a looking glass out to sea.

"Are we all set, helmsman Wedge?" Kairi asked, though it was more of an affirmation than a question.

"Aye, Captain," the man nodded.

Just on cue, the man in the crow's nest shouted, "Captain! Kingdom ships in sight!"

She quickly shot Sora a knowing glance. "I guess you weren't bluffing about your navy." Her playful smile and wonder-filled eyes held no hint of fear or worry. "What say you to a little demonstration?"

Every crew member around them jumped, and they soon filled the air with excited cheers. Biggs patted Sora's back and said, "This never gets old."

Kairi made her way to the railing that separated the two levels of the deck. Meanwhile, several crew members began loosening the lines to close the sails.

"Wait," Sora said. "I don't know anything about sailing, but aren't you supposed to, you know," he gestured wide with his hands, "expand the sails to move quickly."

Jessie joined his other side. "Aye," she said and held up a finger, "if you're using the wind to move."

Sora raised an eyebrow. "But what else would you-"

His voice caught in his throat when a sudden swell in the gentle waves rocked the ship with more force than usual. After catching his balance, his attention turned back to Kairi.

She stood tall with her hands outstretched to either side, palms facing up. Her eyes remained closed, but the rest of her face expressed pure bliss. The waves seemed to follow the direction of her hands, and Sora thought he'd begun to understand her gift.

Mine is more...elemental in nature,

When the ocean felt calm and steady, she slowly brought her palms forward. Sora was too mesmerized to notice the rest of the crew bracing against whatever they could hold onto.

In one fluid motion, not unlike the very waves she commanded, she thrust her arms behind her, and Sora went flying onto his back.

The sudden speed of the ship would've sent Sora back into the captain's quarters if it weren't for Biggs and Jessie stopping him. The embarrassment tempted him to stay hidden and red-faced, but his newfound fascination with the captain won out. He stood to look over the side, and sure enough the navy ship pursuing them was now a shrinking form on the horizon.

Kairi was focussed, though he swore she shot him a side-eye smirk. Jessie stepped in his way and broke the trance.

"Okay, newbie, enough staring. Let's put you to work?"

——————————————————–

A/N: Thank you for reading! We've reached day 2 of SoKai Week, and I hope you're enjoying it so far.

Kairi's design, abilities, and motivation were inspired from a number characters, including Avantika from Critical Role, Captain Amelia from Treasure Planet, and the historical Irish figure Gráinne Ní Mháille (Grace O'Malley), 'The Pirate Queen'.

[yenslilac]

Daenerys Targaryen and Ophelia: An Essay

I wrote this a while back, just after Season 8 ended. After a few edits, I decided to share it with you! Disclaimer: I wrote this fueled with rage at 11 at night for two weeks straight. Don’t judge. 

Part 1: The Heroine Goes Absolutely Bats**t Crazy

Ophelia. Known throughout time as That Crazy Chick Who Drowned Herself. What a legacy. And Daenerys: She Who Toasted A City Like Marshmallows And Then Was Offed By Her Nephew/Lover. The sad thing is, these are my heroes. What a life. But the ‘Insane Heroine’ trope is prevalent in many forms of media – Dark Phoenix is another example. At first glance, Daenerys and Ophelia have very little in common; Daenerys is a powerful and assertive leader, and Ophelia is a background love interest. The one thing that unites them – they go crazy because of rejected love. While their descent into madness is slightly different; Ophelia is pitiful, Daenerys aggressive, both end up dying indirectly or directly as a result of their lover. Lovely. Let’s talk first about Ophelia – She is rebuffed Hamlet, the original pathetic sad boy, and at the death of her father, goes insane. After several performances of her insanity, she makes her way to a river where she falls (or throws?) herself into the water and drowns. This is witnessed by Gertrude, who then goes on to tell her brother Laertes of her death. It’s a pretty monologue, describing the flowers and plants growing along the riverbank, and how pretty and peaceful she looked as she sank under water and DIED. Remember this. Then my girl Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals and the First Men etc. etc. Oh boy. Ohhhhhh boy. What can I say except **************** ***** ** **********. Thank you for your time. But she like Ophelia, was scorned by her Boyfriend Who Felt It Was Just A Little Weird That She Was His Aunt. But like, your paternal grandparents and the rest of your great-whatever grandparents were siblings, and your maternal grandparents were cousins so… But I digress. Wait no, this is what it’s all about. I’m back! I un-digress! So, she goes ‘insane’ cause she can’t get laid (don’t we all?) and roasts a whole lot of people and becomes… Hitler for some reason… So, Boyfriend Who Felt It Was Just A Little Weird That She Was His Aunt And Really Wishes He Can Just Catch A Break For Once Is It Really Too Much Too Ask is egged on by Murder Sister™ and Smarty Pants McGee to kill her. Just like my friends! He makes out with her and stabs her (best of both worlds!) and she dies. Very prettily. Remember this. You know. YOU KNOW I’m going to rant about this.

Part 2: Heroic Man Kills The Crazy Lady Like The Feral Dog She Is (But Feels Sad About It) 

Trope as old as time… why is this still fine… surely there’s a better plot deviiiiiice. “Duty is the death of love…” Shut up. Shut up. No, it isn’t. There is a thing called multitasking. You should try it. But let’s recap. Woman goes crazy because of lover/hero of the story rebuffing her because he’s got issues of his own that he doesn’t care to share with her, and close friend/family member is killed. This is when the paths of the Hero diverge. Hamlet does not actually kill Ophelia himself, but his careless actions towards her eventually drive her to suicide. Jon, on the other hand, does kill Daenerys, (no, I’m not mad. I’m just disappointed) by a knife to the heart while snogging her. (I’d like to take the opportunity to say that this was ridiculous and yes, I will die mad about it.) What else is similar? Hamlet holds Ophelia’s (or in some adaptations tries to) dead body in his arms as she is about to be buried and Jon holds Daenerys as she dies. They cry and wish it didn’t have to be this way, but really guys, this is Your Fault.

The problem with this trope in particular (and I’m talking about a lot of other examples here, like Dark Phoenix and Wolverine) is that it renders the killer sympathetic. They didn’t want to do this, but it was for the good of humanity, it was a mercy, blah blah blah. Really? Did someone make you kill her? No, a sense of moral justice does not count. Hamlet abuses and humiliates Ophelia then claims he loved her so much that ‘forty thousand brothers could not…” Creepy. I have to say, creepy. And Jon Snow. “Was it right? It doesn’t feel right…” I’m glad you came to that conclusion. I really am. But I knew this from the moment you stuffed that butter knife into her spleen, so honestly you don’t have any business feeling sorry for yourself. If there’s one lesson that Game of Thrones and Shakespeare has taught me, it is:

(not an artist, don’t judge)

Part 3: Someone Died And The Director Said, “Cool But Like… Make It Fashion.”

Do you remember what I told you to remember? Did you? Cause I’m about to RANT.

Throughout time (like 500 years) men have been painting Ophelia’s drowning – the probable suicide of a tormented young woman – and made sure she looked hot while doing it. True, the description of her death is pretty and all, but depictions of her floating just below the surface, a dramatic and lovely pose and flowers strewn around her glamorise her death – something many other people have taken note on – and give her death something of a peaceful, serene departing note, rather than the death of a woman so deranged she did not appear to understand the gravity of her situation as she sank under water. Daenerys suffers a similar case of SDPS (Sexy Dead Person Syndrome). Let’s go through it step by step, shall we? While in an embrace with someone she loves and trusts, she is stabbed in the heart area (I guess?), and she dies. The End. My respect for white men flew off with Drogon. But I haven’t complained properly yet! Compared to other characters, like Myrcella, Joffrey and Catelyn Stark to name a few, her death was very clean. In these other examples, blood runs down their faces or spurts out of their neck in suitably graphic fashion but Daenerys’ case, two thin lines of blood trickle from her nose and mouth. Pretty, pretty. We get a brief shot of a pool of blood on the snow as Drogon picks her up, but blink and you’ll miss it. She looks shocked and confused as she dies, yet the next shot of her face shows her eyes are closed and an almost peaceful expression on her face. Not only this but we don’t actually get any proper Last Words, when she knows she is about to die. She makes no sound at all. She dies prettily and quietly. We also don’t see the knife at all until she is dead, removing any very graphic nature from the scene. A lot of the camera shots are of Jon’s face. This scene is not about Daenerys Targaryen’s death; This is about Jon Snow’s inner turmoil as he selflessly sacrifices the woman he loves to save the rest of the world. Hold up one second I gotta……

I mean, come on. Daenerys is barely mentioned after her death. She, a woman who freed hundreds, no, thousands of slaves and worked hard to reach her goals (albeit a little dragonfire-y) yet she dies without a whisper and is forgotten almost immediately. She becomes less of a central character and more of a catalyst for other men’s rise to power (see Bran the Broken). Wait, what about Sansa, you cry? Well, at this point, she was so out of character I’m striking her from the narrative. Bye bitch 😊 The same goes for most of the other women in the last season. They become plot devices with a little agency and that’s about it. Missandei? Unnecessarily killed to create the “Mad Queen”. Cersei? A compelling villain reduced to a ‘crying girl who wants to be comforted’. Arya? Kills the Night King and then, I dunno. Sansa? Suspicious of Daenerys because of reasons, betrays her brother/cousin because she doesn’t want Daenerys on the throne, then just ‘forgets’ about this whole thing to become Queen in the North. Brienne? Honourable knight left sobbing after her one (k)night stand left her. Another thing that many of these women have in common (the ones who survived to the final episode anyway) is that none of them have romantic endgames despite this being set up. Arya and Gendry have been close friends in Season 2 and 3, then <3  and everyone (i.e. me) thought that you know, they get together and stuff, because that’s what the writers seemed to be setting up. But nope. Arya’s all like ‘I wanna kill the queen’ (which she never does) and throws all that out the window. (But Gendry was totally on that ship at the end). Brienne and Jaime seemed to finally stop eye fricking and then got straight to the actual fricking but nooooo. “I lOvE CeRseI! WE’re bOTh tERrIble PeOple!” And of course, the crowning glory:

And the woman who actually does come out on top is Sansa, a largely unemotional, suspicious woman whose brother is now the king and made her a queen because she’s his sister. Riiiight. That’s totally not nepotism or anything. 

The End: But Boy, Am I Just Beginning

To conclude, the ending of Daenerys Targaryen was largely misogynistic as it painted a brutal and dishonourable murder as an act of mercy and gave the killer (sorry man, I feel like I’m throwing you under the bus here, but it must be said) a sympathetic angle as a heartbroken martyr sacrificing for the greater good. I had high expectations, I really did, but you just took it anD THREW IT IN THE DIRT. Good god. But it’s fine, I have fanfiction anyway.

Thank you for reading this, if you stuck around this far!

[lucywiggin]

Bodyguard

Chapter 1: Kang Gook hates stupid love songs

“Never again, “ Gook murmured to himself as he entered his apartment, “no more idols. I’m not doing this ever again.” 

It was almost midnight, and he was just back from fifty-four days of being part of the world’s second most popular boy band (and they were very bitter about not being the first) security detail. Hye-mi suggested the gig because she thought it would be a nice change of pace, and would allow Gook to do some European site-seeing on his free time. Well, it was a change of pace, but not the kind he had in mind.  

Assassins and terrorists, he could handle; but he just wasn’t acquitted to dealing with a crowd of hysterical fifteen-year-olds. All that crying and yelling when there was no real danger meddled with his instincts. 

But nothing mattered now, because he was home, and he’d never have to listen to another stupid love song again. That was a privilege he never would have appreciated in full fifty-five days ago. Gook was only twenty-eight, but dealing with teenagers and their music made him feel ancient.   

He put down his suitcase, yawning. He convinced himself to change into shorts and a t-shirt, then fell face-first on his bed. 

 Gook woke up at eight-thirty to find a message from Hye-mi. 

“Min-hyun really wants to see you,” Hye-mi’s message said, “could you drop by at around ten?”. Gook doubted that Min-hyun actually said that – she was only ten months old – but he went to shower and dress.   

“Look who’s here,” said Hey-mi in baby voice as she opened the door, holding Min-hyun, “it’s your uncle Gook. He’s been away for a really long time!” 

“Hi,” said Gook.  

“How are you?” Hye-mi asked. 

“Fine,” said Gook, “it was a long, noisy tour.” 

Hye-mi led him to the kitchen. “Sit down and hold her for a moment,” she ordered, “I need to get my iPad.” 

Gook held Min-hyun, supporting her head the way Hye-mi taught him when Min-hyun was less than one day old. She smiled at him, and he couldn’t help but smile back.  

 Hye-mi returned. “Your new client,” she said, passing him the iPad, “Han Tae-joo.” 

“No,” Gook said after one look at the photo. “Not another idol. Teenage girls are loud .” 

“He’s not an idol!” Hye-mi protested. “He’s the new chairman of the TB group. Pil-hyun went to high school with him. “ 

“I thought you went to high school with Pil-hyun,” said Gook. “Didn’t you go to school with him, too?” 

“I transferred only for the last year,” Hye-mi explained, “Han Tae-joo’s father sent him to England at about the same time, so I haven’t met him until five weeks ago.” 

“Why five weeks ago?” Gook asked. 

“His father suddenly died of a heart attack, and we went to the funeral. Then we mentioned him to mom, and she insisted we invite him to dinner. He’s an only son and his mother died when he was young, and you know how mom is with strays.” 

Gook was a living proof of that, though he thought treating a Chaebol as a “stray” was pushing the definition of the word. 

Hye-mi went on, “he was here for dinner twice, and she likes him. She told him he should hire you, and he told her he’d think of that. I guess he did, because he called me four days ago and asked to hire you. We already negotiated your terms.” 

Gook knew he was doomed. Between Hye-mi and Ms. Jung, he was stuck with the Han Tae-joo gig until told otherwise.  

Still, he wasn’t giving up without a fight. “Do you really want me to take the job because he was friends with Pil-hyun in high school? That was ten years ago.” 

Hye-mi laughed, “Oh, they weren’t friends. Tae-joo stole three of his girlfriends in a row.” 

“He sounds like a brat,” said Gook. 

“Pil-hyun says he was,” said Hye-mi, “but so was Pil-hyun, and look at him now. Pil-hyun actually thanked him: he said that if he wasn’t single at the right time he would have never asked me out. In a way, we owe him a favor. “ 

“Because he stole Pil-hyun’s girlfriends,” said Gook. He hoped Hye-mi would see how absurd that was. 

“I’m calling you a taxi,” said Hye-mi, who obviously couldn’t see the absurdity. “You’re meeting him in an hour. I sent everything you need to know about him to your email.” 

Gook accepted his fate. “Okay,” he said. “Fine, I’ll meet with him.” Even though he was feeling less than cheerful, he smiled again at Min-hyun before handing her back to her mother, because it wasn’t the baby’s fault that her mother and grandmother scared him into submission. 

“Dinner is at seven, don’t forget!” Hye-mi called after him, “mom really missed you. We all did.” 

 “I won’t forget,” Gook promised before he closed the door. 

Chapter 2:  A very un-Chaebol Chaebol

In the taxi, Gook reviewed everything Hye-mi sent him about Han Tae-joo. They were both twenty-eight, but that was where the resemblance ended. Han was the sole heir of the TB group, a less than ethical (though no suspicion was ever confirmed) conglomerate. He graduated from Oxford University’s Merton College with a first in Economics, then moved to the US, where he completed an MBA in Berkeley. After graduation, he worked at a Sillicon Valley start-up – not the TB’s group American branch, Gook noted – until five weeks ago, when his father passed away because of a heart attack. There were also pictures of him with nine different girls overall, usually at charity events – Han was somewhat of a playboy. Gook was not disappointed, or so he told himself. Most men were attracted to women; why would Han be any different?

Han Tae-joo looked even better in person than in his photos, which Gook definitely did not care about, thank you very much. He was also the most un-Chaebol Chaebol that Gook had ever met. For one thing, he didn’t remain seated behind his desk and waited for Gook to bow to him respectfully, but was out of his chair the moment his secretary let Gook into the room, crossing the space between them to shake Gook’s hand enthusiastically. For another thing, he smiled at Gook. Gook had met more than his fair share of Chaebols – they were abundant in his line of work – but they rarely bothered looking at him, let along shake his hand or give him a smile bright enough to light a room.

 “Kang Gook,” said Han, “I’m Han Tae-joo,” not Chairman Han, Gook noted. “I’ve been looking forward to meet you.”

Even if Hye-mi’s notes didn’t include Han’s long stay abroad, Gook could have guessed from his behavior that he spent a fair amount of time out of Korea. One had to admit, Gook thought, that Han’s attitude was refreshing.

“Chairman Han,” said Gook respectfully, bowing slightly. Just because Han broke protocol didn’t mean Gook was allowed to do the same.

“Please,” Han gestured at one of the visitors’ chairs in front of his desk, “take a seat.” He waited until Gook sat, then went back to sit behind his desk. 

“You know,” Han said, “at first I looked into your resume only out of respect to Ms. Jung. She insisted that you were just the person I needed as my chief bodyguard. However, after the results of your background check returned, I realized she was right on the mark. If I want to survive in this position, I need you to have my back.”

“And you got all of that from a background check?” Gook asked before he could stop himself. There was something about Han that tempted him to throw caution to the wind, and that made Han dangerous. Gook was a professional, and he wanted to leave the gig with his reputation intact.

���I got all of that from your background check plus Ms. Jung, Hye-mi and even Pil-hyun’s recommendations,” Han replied. “According to all your past employers but one – we’ll get to him in a moment - you never use force unless you have to, which means you have a strong moral code. You’re discreet, well-mannered, and my favorite thing about you: you have superpowers.”

shitshitshit

“Superpowers?” Gook asked carefully, putting on his best poker face. “Chairman Han, have you been watching too many Marvel movies?” And that was downright rude, but Gook was caught off-guard. Hey-mi knew about the telekinesis, but he would bet his life she didn’t tell Han. But who did?

Han didn’t look one bit disturbed by Gook’s rudeness.

“Telekinesis and mind control, to be precise,” he said.

doubleshit.

“You’re careful, which I like. According to my sources, you have used your powers on others…” Han paused and made a show of picking up some papers and consulting his notes, though Gook was sure he memorized every incident, “a grand total of eight times, out of which only two included mind control. The first of those was when you ordered that rapist to turn himself in and confess – which he did. “

That was almost seven years ago. It was Gook’s second gig, and he noticed his own client pouring something into a girl’s drink at a club. After that, Hye-mi took over vetting his clients before he accepted a position.

“How do you know I had anything to do with that?” Gook asked, his voice neutral. “Perhaps he had a sudden attack of conscience.”

Han snorted. “Sure he had; of your conscience. He doesn’t have one. About three days later he denied everything he confessed to. Fortunately, he handed the police enough evidence before that sudden change of heart. Then there was the assassin who tried to murder your client, who was also very talkative for almost three days, then again had that mysterious change of heart.”

The incident with the assassin was three and a half years after, and Gook really should have known that commanding him to spill everything to the police would put him at risk.

“I’m guessing the effect of your commands lasts a little less than three days.” Han didn’t wait for Gook’s response. “There were also six incidents of you using your telekinesis. The last time, according to my very reliable sources, was three weeks ago, when you saved a fourteen-year-old girl from being crushed to death by over-enthusiastic fans of that boy band.” Han finished.

Dammit, thought Gook. He thought he was discreet on that one. How did anyone notice, in the middle of that mass of screaming kids?

“I must say I’m disappointed – I expected a kitten saved from a tree somewhere on the list.”

 Gook did not appreciate being mocked. “Get to the point,” he said. “Are you blackmailing me?”

“No!” Han seemed surprised, as if the possibility never crossed his mind.  “I’m saying that I know what kind of man you are, and that I want you on my team. I don’t want a thug,” Han said, turning dead serious, “those are dime a dozen. I’m hiring you because you’re just the opposite. Look, I know that if I do anything illegal with you around, I will find myself at the police station, confessing my crimes, and I still want to hire you. Doesn’t that tell you something?”

“It tells me you put a lot of trust in me for no good reason.”

Han put his elbows on the desk, leaning closer to Gook. “I have a very good reason,” he said with a sigh. “I’ve been out of this country for ten years. I know very few people and I trust no one. But to succeed in this position, I must be able to trust someone.”

“And you decided on me?” Asked Gook.

“You are, by far, the best candidate. Accept the position, please.”

 Gook never thought he would hear a Chaebol use that word, especially not in such a pleading tone. Either Han was the world’s best actor, or his need - desperation, even - to hire Gook was genuine.

“Okay,” said Gook. “But anything illegal, and you’ll be confessing on YouTube.” That felt strange, acknowledging the power he did his best to forget about. He never shared that secret with anyone, not even Hye-mi.

Han didn’t seem concerned, quite the opposite: he beamed at Gook, holding out his hand for another shake. Gook took it.

“Deal,” said Han.

“Deal,” Gook repeated. “I’ll start tomorrow,” he said, “I’m going to need your address and daily schedule.”

“Don’t you want to know how much I’ll be paying you?” Asked Han.

Gook shook his head. “Hye-mi already negotiated with you,” he said, “she knows what she’s doing.”

“She does,” Han agreed. “Smart lady. Scary, too.”

Gook couldn’t help himself: he chuckled. So did Han.

The story is complete! and you can find the next chapters in AO3. (13824 words overall).

[velvetv0nblack]

An open letter;

(Possible trigger warning)

I’m not even sure why I’m writing this, maybe because this theme of abuse has be something I’ve been experiencing as a third party, the person removing the victim this time, you know the role many of my friends filled within our tumultuous relationship... maybe it’s because my friends abuser is now threatening and harassing me for helpingher leave... maybe it’s because I’ve finally found my therapeutic dosage of lithium, am in a clear mind and are therefore able to reflect properly for the first time in my life... or maybe it’s because this is not an apology, I mean maybe it is if you had only been a serial cheat, but the truth is you fractured my skull and cut me open with a knife, so this is not a fucking apology. Also I’d rather rip my own eyes out of my skull, smash them with a hammer, and then inject the liquid into my ass than actually engage you in any kind of conversation, so knowing that this is the one platform you can still check for me on, I’m going to post this here... Its about time I had my say without putting myself in physical danger.

You would think I wouldn’t have an essay to correct your 3 lines of a nothing apology, but here we are I guess.

This kind of self deprecating “I wasn’t good enough for you” narrative is truly infuriating, and not because you were actually good enough for me but because of the very reasons you proved yourself not be “not good enough”. You weren’t undeserving of me because you didn’t work, I am physically incapable of doing so myself and I didn’t fall in love with you because you came across mad motivated. You weren’t undeserving of me because you took drugs, drank like a fish or smoked like a chimney, we were both purposefully killing our selves in the same way. You weren’t undeserving of me at all, until you fucked my best friend in the bathroom and collectively gaslit me into wondering if I was imagining the whole thing, and slowly but systematically broke down my confidence and support network away from me. I want this to be very clear; the reason you do not deserve me or any other decent human being is because, you are an abuser, you abuse people.

I was barely a whole person when I met you. I was barely an adult. I had lived through so much already, and had been abused in every area of my existence. I was easy pickings to you. The issue was you were not a pawn to me, a player in any game, or any of that. To me you were this fascinating, beautiful soul, to me you were someone who needed my love who needed someone to support you and I couldn’t believe that you chose me to fill that role. I was freshly 18 that month, and I had just had a flat mate steal £3k and kill my kitten.

I weighed all of 63lbs that night you lost the plot on me because I didn’t want to go to Big Red to watch that actual cunt of a waitress smile at me as she gave you lap dances, it’s not even a dance joint it was a fucking bar. You allowed other people to emotionally abuse me with you for months up until this point and I just didn’t want to go, all I wanted was the keys and I would of gone home alone and gone to bed. Why you feel the need to publicly humiliate me again instead of just leaving it? You couldn’t just go be adulterous without me watching and hurting, so you followed me home, screaming at me the whole time. You told me I was pathetic, you hated me, I should just kill myself- on a bus on a Saturday night, from the bar I worked in, in soho, back to our place near Caledonian Road. I was so unstable anyway, undiagnosed autism, misdiagnosed mental health issues, on the wrong if any medication, deep within the throws of an addiction and eating disorder... you. I couldn’t take you verbally ripping my heart out anymore when I decided that throwing myself from our 3rd story window would hurt less. The fact I could of died isn’t what made you grab me and stop me jumping, no in fact you told me you don’t care if I kill my self as long as it’s not in the flat, you were much more concerned with the amount of drugs in the flat and the prison opposite our window. At that point you threw me full pelt across the other side of the room, all 63lbs of me flew through the air like a paper aeroplane and smashed directly into your guitar. You know your beloved custom Les Paul? The headstock came off, and at that very moment despite the fact you were the one who threw me, my life was the one in danger. You started strangling me and threatening to have men come down to London to gang rape my then 14 year old sister. It gets a little fuzzy, that’s what your brain does when you experience potentially life ending trauma. I do know I ended up with stitches in my lips and hands, that you fractured my right eye socket- that I still suffer issues with to this day- and had black bruising covering my entire body like a bus had hit me.

For a couple of years there my brain completely blocked out important details of that night, and a lot of our relationship. Don’t worry though periodically I have the real type of flashback where I relive these events and I come back to reality remembering more than I ever wanted to. I’m yet to even touch on the fact that whilst I may of been able to escape you in waking life, my dreams are perpetually stuck in this horrific PTSD dream land, a town that is a mash up of all the places I’ve been traumatised in my life, the place you eternally reside inside my head to traumatise me whilst I desperately need to rest. You haven’t really left my life despite the efforts I have made to avoid you (I think I’ve seen you once, from a distance once at Download 2 years ago, my heart fell out my ass, and I dragged Camilla in another direction) I have only 2 dreams in 6 years that haven’t included you chasing me down to finish what you started and kill me or keep me captive. But that’s what trauma does, and oh how you traumatised me.

I really loved you though, that’s why I stayed, and those couple times I tried to leave before I came back. I loved you so unconditionally that it took me realising that everyone else around us was so complicit that they’d help you hide by body. To this very day I cannot believe a man, a male roommate, walked in on you pinning me into a sofa by my neck, with both your planted knees on top of my chest, full weight suffocating me, biting the end of my nose until it was blackened and he had the audacity me I needed to calm down. I have to label the guy the world biggest pussy in my head so I don’t get wound up about it.

I wasn’t perfect, I can never be perfect, I have more imperfections than most. I am severely mentally and physically unwell- I sure as hell am a pain in the ass to love- however I cannot actually think of a damn thing I did to deserve constant unending emotional abuse, threatens and follow through of physical abuse and then after I left stalking and harassment. I am difficult but I am not deserving of abuse and that’s all you gave me in the end... unless of course you “needed your baby girl to suck your dick” - that was the only time you were ever nice to me, and I know because I recently read back a bunch of our texts and you flipped between “I hate you, I’m gonna kill you/kill your self” to “I need my beautiful girl to come and suck my dick I love you so much” is actually fucking insane. - Should I bring up the fact you would bang pathetic girls on the scene and then dicknotise them into stalking and harassing me with you? Because... what I had the audacity to leave a man, of over 6ft tall, who would become violent to my 5ft 63lbs self?

So yeah, you didn’t deserve me, but not because of any self deprecating attention seeking reason but because you’re a sociopath, who seems to take pleasure in fucking with vulnerable women.

Am I happy? Now that’s a fucking difficult one to answer.

I ended up homeless on and off for a year. Despite the homelessness I had suffered before this was worse because of the place I was in mentally.

You caused me to develop complex PTSD.

You caused me to have a 3 year long psychotic break.

You caused me to live in secure supported housing, where I was prayed upon by other residents.

You caused me to fall victim to abuse within the system

Not sure if you know this but our mental health services sucks ass, after leaving you I had a delightful therapist that would text me telling to kill my self and would tell me you were right to abuse me.

But I got one thing from our relationship, I fine tuned my “four Fs” ...I no longer freeze or fight in the face of difficulty... I developed an ability to fawn.

Dead ends are no longer in my eyeline, I will metaphorically straight on walk through someone else’s house to get where I need to be, I will jump the fence, break the locks and out run any guard dog. I may fall down but I’m never out.

When I was diagnosed with multiple chronic illnesses and essentially lived in hospital for 3 years, even when I thought to end my life it was weighed out by the thought of “how do I get to a place we’re I can do even 5% of what I want? What do I have to change, manifest?”.

You see if you could only temporarily break me but not stop me then why the hell would I let my own mind and body do that? That ability to fawn came with an ability to find a middle path, to be diplomatic. That ability to fawn gave me the patience to understand medical text and use that to access the right care. ~ I am actually thinking of starting a medical degree just to prove I can ~ I am now 98lbs and healthy for my size and stature, I now have a home with a housing association who like me so much they have me a lifetime partner agreement, meaning I will never be homeless again. I have been clean 7 whole goddamn years and 2 months. I have the most beautiful empathic cat, 2 foster dogs and an incredibly patient partner, who has known me before you had ever entered my life. I am as healthy as someone in my position can be, I still struggle with the anorexic thoughts but I eat everyday of the fucking week now.

I am not “happy” as happy is an emotion and emotions are fleeting but I am content in living for the simple life I have fought ever so hard for. I am strong, and determined and constantly fucking working on making more for myself. I’m proud of myself.

All I have to say is get therapy. If you’re really sorry work on yourself enough to be able to apologise properly before you fuck my day up by rising your head again for this weakness. I can’t say I don’t have morbid curiosity, because that’s me all over, however I’m much more determined to keep all that I have work for mentally, emotionally, and physically safe. For that reason I would never in my right medicated mind talk it out with you, email you back or seek you out. I’m sorry, it is what it is.

You can not damage someone irreparably both mentally and physically and think “I’m sorry for being a cunt” even close to cuts it. You are mentally unbalanced, in a way not even I can relate to.

[mandaloriangf]

hey if you watch taylor swift's documentary miss americana, she talks a lot about how she was always praised when she was younger for being the "ideal celebrity" because she never brought up politics or anything. she was also influenced by her childhood heroes, the dixie chicks, being blacklisted completely when they criticized bush, and she was terrified of the same thing happening to her. she was under a lot of pressure from the media to be "a good girl" and stay quiet (1/?)

her first time speaking up politically was during the 2018 midterms, where she openly supported one candidate over another and encouraged people to register to vote, which increased voter registration by a huge amount. she made the post because the other candidate was openly homophobic, racist and misogynist, and she couldn't handle not speaking up. there's a scene in the documentary where her dad, and a bunch of her producers, record label, etc. are strongly telling her not to make the post (2)

but she says she has to go through with it and argues about it with them. they're worried she could lose a lot of fans and that it could be a major safety issue for her (since she already has huge issues with people breaking into her houses or stalking her). she answers that the candidate she is opposing wants to repeal protections for women against stalking and abuse and stuff like that, and that she has to take a stand. (3/?)

with 'you need to calm down' she was criticized a lot for being 'performative' but the reason she did it is she thought she had already been pretty open about being accepting of the lgbtq+ community, but her really good friend todrick hall was TERRIFIED to come out to her because he didn't know what her reaction would be, and she realized she needed to make a bigger statement if one of her close friends was completely unaware of her position on the matter. (4/?)

todrick helped her direct the music video, and she asked a lot of members of the lgbtq+ community if what she was doing was ok, and asked for their opinions on the song and music video to make sure she was being an ally and not overstepping. she also got as many lgbtq+ people in the music video as possible, purposefully collabed with brendan urie and spotlighted lesser known lgbtq+ artists. she also hand selected the drag queens in the music video and they were all shocked she knew who they were

anyways I know you don't like taylor and I'm not trying change that or excuse her actions - she definitely could have done more, sooner. I'm just trying to explain why she didn't speak up sooner and why she realized she had to. on social media, she's also been taking care to spotlight lesser known female poc and lgbtq+ artists that she loves and has really just been making an effort to be an ally in every way possible. she's definitely not perfect, but she's trying! (last one I swear lol)

She’s never claimed to be an activist & imo that’s an odd expectation to put on her. she’s a musician first and occasionally talks about politics on the side just like most celebrities? Not saying she’s above criticism but she faces uncommonly intense scrutiny compared to other people at her level of fame. People make absurd claims abt her with NO evidence and it becomes gospel among people who hated her to begin with. I’m not trying to be rude but the biases against her deserve critical thought

for the record im coming at this as a former swiftie, so this is not me irrationally hating on her

i haven’t seen the documentary since i dont have netflix and also haven’t been a fan in a long time, but i have seen the scene you talked about since it was going around on twitter months ago. the general consensus was that it was highly staged (most likely, given the nature of the documentary) and also dripping with privilege. 

my issue with her isn’t that she was unproblematic but silent, but that she was notoriously problematic AND silent. i’d argue that the first time she really became political was in 2014 when she began to embrace feminism coincidentally as the 1989 era began, but the problem was that she still didnt seem to grasp what it actually was, given that she paraded around a group of women she stopped hanging out with like a year later and used them to tear down katy perry in the bad blood video. 

like, i understand her being young and afraid to stand up for something when her career was first beginning. but after years and years and years, especially by the time she was willing to stand up to misogynistic men in 2014 and beyond, she still didn’t really do much else, you know? and a lot of it always seemed to center around her. 

but anyway, with you need to calm down, todd in the shadows made an excellent video about it here. maybe im biased because im critical of her work regardless, but as a bi woman, i found the song and video insulting and condescending. shade never made anybody less gay is easily one of her worst if not the worst line she’s ever written. she conflates her internet haters with violent homophobes and then ends the video with her ending the feud with katy yet it was released during pride and meant to be some sort of anthem when born this way came out in 2011 and, while undeniably flawed, did a much better job of getting the point across. taylor’s contemporaries have been saying the same stuff, but like, 10+ years earlier.

i guess for me, im just really tired of people praising her for doing this that others have done for much, much longer. im fine with her making a post like she did for the midterms, it felt genuine! but other stuff like you need to calm down comes off as patronizing and that scene from the documentary feels like it tries to position her as this almost like katniss figure which is just....tone deaf considering people like the ferguson protesters have been murdered for years. but thats all just me.

[queerchoicesblog]

The Birth of Cherubino (1/2)

Hiya, folks! So, as previously announced, the wlw writing project continues after a break with a miniseries set back in Vienna, one of the iconic capitals of opera at the time of Mozart. An emerging singer gets the chance to be an understudy in the latest Mozart’s discussed opera Le Nozze di Figaro (The Marriage of Figaro), that  premiered at the Burgtheater in Vienna on 1 May 1786, w and play the pants role of the page Cherubino. Preparing for the role doesn’t quite go as planned… .

Tagging: @scottishqueer​

Previous chapter: The Understudy, An Unexpected Turn of Events

Hope you enjoy it: if you do, please consider spreading the word!

_________________________

So it's decided: two understudies will bring this Cherubino to life. It will have do, I guess. I am surprised by her reaction when we set foot in her husband's studio. The place is the same: velvet armchairs, oil paintings immortalising gorgeous Italian landscapes at the walls, the finely decorated cello at the very centre of the room. Yet the atmosphere is completely different in a way I couldn't foresee. While I head towards my usual spot at the side of the cello, Lia looks...I'd say afraid to walk in: when she eventually decides herself, she does it almost tiptoeing and looking around as if someone might appear anytime and scold her. Usher her away as a naughty child not allowed to be there.

I ask her if she's fine and she shivers looking at me. Her face relaxes in a quick smile and she takes seat at the instrument, muttering a reassurance. I understand that this is "the Maestro's kingdom" but I am surprised that she hardly ever set foot here or so it seems...she mentioned being well versed in music and I don't see any other cello in the house. Unless they have others hidden somewhere behind the closed doors, that is. I don't have it that she might be...banned from the studio! But maybe, seeing how unsure she suddenly looks here... I suggest she familiarises herself with the instrument and most importantly the aria while I warm up my voice in a corner. I think she's grateful of me giving her space and taking the lead. She obliges with a quick smile. Once I am done, I approach her again and check in on her. "I- I think I get this, the melody is not too complicated...and it's not all about music, you'll do most of the work". She briefly meets my eyes then she fixes hers on the music sheets, brows furrowed in concentration. "Whenever you're ready, Miss-". "Constanze" I correct her. We share a quick smile and it looks like she relaxes a little. "Constanze" she repeats in her foreign accent. The way she pronounces it make it sound sweeter, new. I find myself lost in my own thoughts for a moment: it's almost like the sound she crafted created a...new version of me. As if this Constanze bears little resemblance to the one her husband sees, trains and takes any occasion to touch. Funny thought, I smile to myself as I ask her to start playing. I take a deep breath and turns towards her as the ever familiar notes of Cherubino's first aria echo in the studio. I look at her for a moment. A pale fleeting ray of sun caresses her dark hair - as dark as the night - while her face twists in concentration. Eyes on the sheet not to miss a note, her fingers move with unexpected grace over the keyboard. I think back of how her husband plays, with confidence and swagger as if he was taming the instrument to his will, to his creative energy and musical mastery. In case the poor instrument could still doubt who the master was. Lia doesn't play like this. Her fingers touch the keyboard with a gentleness I have hardly ever seen in musicians...maybe only Herr Mozart came close when he played a Serenade to his wife at a party. Lia doesn't play the cello, she...strokes it as if it was a dear friend. Or a revered lover. My train of thoughts almost makes me miss my cue. I notice just in time! "I don't know anymore what I am or what I'm doing Now I'm burning, now I'm made of ice Every woman makes me change color Every woman makes my heart pounding" And then...no words come out of my mouth anymore. I know what follows, God I've been singing this aria night and day in my head for days! But the lines get stuck in my throat and a sudden, violent warmth burn my cheeks. I have to lean to the cello for support. My heart is racing, cutting off my breath. The music stops abruptly: Lia must have noticed because she's standing too now. "Oh Constanze, are you unwell?". "I-I'm just..." I start but I don't really know what to say. What's happening to me? Her lips curl into a concerned expression. "This way, take a seat". She gently leads me towards one of the velvet armchairs by the window. Her touch is soft, just enough to sustain me but it sends shivers down my spine. The same happens as our fingers accidentally brush when she hands me a glass of water. I thank her and try to dismiss my sudden failure. It's nothing, I say: maybe I'm a bit tired, the pressure of the upcoming rehearsals kicking in... "You're pushing yourself too hard, Constanze" she comments, smiling weakly. "I suppose getting the jitters before a performance is normal for you opera singers. But you should take care of your health all the same". "You- you're probably right" I nod, my voice still uncertain. Am I losing it out of the blue? It can't be happening...the rehearsals are just round the corner and I'm the understudy, not to mention a goddamn professional! "No no, don't panic now! I'm sure you'll be alright again in no time...here, take deep breaths: in and out, in and out". I look back at her: can she read my mind or am I that pathetically obvious? The thought makes me instantly nervous: there is a reason why I keep people at distance. Women are blamed and despised for their frailty by both men and other members of the fair sex: I abhor and fear the moment someone might catch a glimpse of it in me. What will they think of me then? I search Lia's eyes bracing myself for the worst: pity, disappointment, paternalism...but I find none. Only patient expectancy, genuine concern. No judgement nor well-hidden amusement. So I find myself mimicking her breathing in and out until I actually calm down a little. She invites me to take another sip of water before regarding me pensively. "I am ready to go back to work" I say in the most convincing tone...that sadly doesn't seem to fool her. She flashes me a quick smile and stands in a swift move, walking back to the cello to recover the music sheets. "Actually, I was thinking you could use a break for the day. The news of the departure of Giorgio so close to rehearsals clearly upset you and I can't blame you for that" she comments, joining me once again. "Why don't you come back tomorrow for practicing? A good night rest might do you good and hopefully by then we will have news of Giorgio". She frames her offer with a gentle smile that fails to calm my pounding heart. I take another sip of water to conceal my state. "If you think it's the best course of action..." I sigh, lowering my eyes. "Let's give it a try, Miss Constanze, what do you say?". When I raise my eyes to meet hers, she's no longer looking at me surprisingly. Her gaze is on the music sheets, she's skimming them with a certain curiosity. She almost startles me when she speaks. "So tell me, who is this Cherubino?" she inquires. "He falls in love with every woman or so he says: is he a...how can I say? Don Juan?". "Oh no" I chuckle, more nervously than first intended. "He's just...confused, I think". "Confused?". "Yes, he can't explain what is happening inside him when he's around women, he's distressed...overwhelmed by the whirl of feelings. Something he has never experienced before, I wager". It takes me a moment to process my own words: it's the first time someone asks me to speak of Cherubino. On my own terms. I have only been asked to sing his lines, give him my voice, never my mind and heart. "A love's victim, then" she suggests, pondering. "But not a tragic one". "If you will". "Are his affections reciprocated?". "Yes. Not all maybe. It's hard to tell" I consider, concentrating on what I know of the plot. "Is it?" she flashes a smile, half-amused but pensive. "Well, you may be right. It's not always an easy reading. And tell me, is his love true?". I try to find an answer but I can find none. "I don't know" I shrug. "Oh? How come?" Lia seems genuinely surprised by my words. "He seems to fall in love with every woman in sight...is it what you'd call love?" I try to articulate. "And anyway he never falls for the right one, apparently". She keeps quiet for a moment, considering my answer. Then she shakes her head, half smiling. "It's so typical, right? Falling for those who aren't meant for us.. Who hasn't endured such sweet torture at least once in their life?". "Why, I haven't, Mrs.". When her eyes falls on me, I am almost embarrassed of my blunt comment. I have never felt that way before, I am known for my outspokenness and witty retorts but now they're useless and...out of place. I open my mouth to make it a bit gentler but Mrs. Melchiorri anticipates me. "Consider yourself lucky, then, Miss Constanze. Many cannot say the same...not even your charming Cherubino, apparently". A nostalgic smile lingers on her lips as she adds: "But allow me to say that sometimes unfavourable circumstances don't mean lack of true heart's affection. They only makes it bittersweet, causing a little ache of the heart. I don't know if it can be the case of your character". Her words linger in the air for a moment before she shakes her hand and ushers them away with a dismissive gesture of her hand. "But look at me, wasting your time with matters like these" she flashes me an apologetic smile, standing. "I will see you tomorrow, then?". I wanted to reassure her she isn't wasting my time at all but words get stuck into my throat and she is already calling Franziska. I take my leave mirroring her smile. The turmoil that took hold of me in the music room keeps raging inside my chest on the ride back to my apartment and through the night. What is this? When my maid spots me, she fails to suppress a gasp: do you feel alright, Madam?, she asks. Should she call the doctor? I didn't realise I looked that bad but no, no doctor. I order a light dinner in my room: maybe Lia is right, some rest will do me good. Maybe I was right, I am just tired and stressed by the upcoming rehearsal. However, nothing seems to help to soothe my anguish. I keep playing with my spoon as the soup gets cold, my mind lost somewhere else, away from my room. Cherubino's lines haunt me: "The very mention of love, of delight, Disturbs me, changes me, and Speaking of love, forces on me A desire I cannot restraint!" Never once I've felt that way in my life, troubled and flustered by such a casual topic of conversation like I was in the company of Mrs. Melchiorri. I don't understand. Yet, when I lie in my bed and eventually surrendered to slumber, a vision forms. I remember hearing once that dreams tell the deepest, hidden wishes of our souls, the ones sometimes we don't dare to speak aloud or admit to ourselves. I have never had reason to trust - or doubt, for the matter - the theory until tonight. When night comes and my eyes close, embracing the darkness, I am transported back in Melchiorri's music room. I hear music: Lia is playing and I am sitting with her at the cello, a quiet companion following every move, every note, adoring. Lia's hands stroke the keyboard with a tenderness and a reverence that ignite a longing inside me. It spreads like a fire, tormenting. When the music comes to an end, I can no longer restraint myself. I take her hands into mine and guide them away from the keyboard to my face. They're soft and cold over my burning cheeks.

[aen-maggs]

Newest FanFiction. Let’s see if I can do this.

Your Mess Is Mine - Chapter 1

It was not a large crowd, but there was only so much space in the Southside Ballroom after the ring and the ramp was set up. Still, it was a larger crowd than I had seen in a long time. My hands were stinging and my knuckles were bloodied, but it didn't bother me. I was feeling something, even if it was for a short time. I was in one of the back stage rooms and trying to clean up. I could hear the cheers in the front room, and I closed my eyes trying to focus on that white noise. Once I let out my "little demon", I had to get her back in the box.  I felt my rage slide back into that place in my brain and I gritted my teeth and looked in the mirror. That might be the start of a shiner on my left eye.  Cool.

My hair had gone prematurely gray a year ago, so I had dyed it jet black. It was a mess after the match, with strands coming out at all angles from its short braid. I turned the water off in the sink and I tried some relaxed breathing to help flush the adrenaline from my system. It has been an intergender match, and there was becoming more of a call for men against women lately. My opponent, Denny, had been tougher than most guys I had fought. Denny, also known as Dallas West, was a big guy at 6 foot 2 compared to my 5 foot 3. He didn't mind doing the job for me because I never pulled punches and never did anything fake. My hits were real, and I expected the same from my opponents. In the end, he was glad to put on a good show with someone he respected.  Even if it had been a while since I had been in the circuit.

There was a darker side to me, and one that I was very careful with.  My "little demon" craved the pain, and I was never sure what we enjoyed more.  There was something special about the crunch of my fist hitting someone's face, but feeling the bumps and scrapes made me feel alive in ways I didn't most of the time. It was not something I was proud of, and in some ways I felt ashamed by it. My long ago past had been pretty crazy, but in the last year or two, I worked to keep myself as even kilter as possible.  Sure, I could be a regular woman by day. People were more likely to take me serious if I was acting stable, so keep the crazy under wraps. Business attire by day, caged animal at night.

I opened my eyes feeling myself return to the fine upstanding citizen I liked to project. Grabbing a towel, I sensed I was no longer alone. Drying my hands I looked up to see a familiar face. Not that I knew the guy, but he was certainly recognizable even dressed down as he was. His glass blue eyes shined, his stark blonde hair blazed in the darkened room, and his Cheshire Cat grin was unmistakable.

"Good evening, Mr. Rhodes." I said politely with a smirk.

"And a good evening to you, Ms. Kelly. That was one hell of a match out there."

I tossed the towel down, picked up my bag and smirked at him. "I appreciate that, but Denny has a way of making people look good."

Cody shrugged. "I've seen other videos of you. There are some of your European tour around two years ago. More from five years ago when you toured the states and Mexico. It's impressive."

I shrugged. "Well, a lot of people can catch some of that stuff on YouTube. I'm just now kind of getting back in after a small hiatus. It has been a little harder to catch attention now that there are more female wrestlers getting the spotlight. It's nice that some people are seeing some stuff I've done." I stood there attempting to make it look like I wanted to walk out, but I could tell Rhodes wasn't going to move out of my way. In fact, he stepped into the room, moving closer to the lockers and leaned against them.

Running a hand across his jaw and scratching what seem to be a tiny bit of stubble on his face, he smiled at me. "Do you have any idea why am here?" he asked.

"I'm guessing it has something to do with that company you got started a while ago."

Cody grinned. "So, you have heard of us. What do you think?"

I put my bag down realizing that we were in for an actual talk. I wasn't opposed to the man. It was more of a guarded feeling I had. Too many times have I seen people that I respected in the business get picked up off an independent circuit and then molded into something they weren't. Cody Rhodes had a reputation for being different, but I didn't have the connections I once had to find out for sure.

"Well, I haven't seen a whole lot of my kind of style in your women's division. Your Japanese  headliners are  awesome and you have some amazing talents. But, I am a hardcore queen. Pure brawler style. I am a very much a supporter of inter gender matches and tag matches. You guys don't do that." I said with a blunt edge to my voice.

"Yeah, well, in the beginning we weren't really sure what we wanted. There were some that felt we needed to keep the inter gender matches off the shows and even others that wanted us to limit the blood when it came to the women's division.  Now, with a year under our belts and the new outlook we have brought to fans, we have more people wanting those back alley bar fight matches.  There is also more people wanting to see women go up against some of the men, and a lot of our guys are open to it.  A couple of them you have already worked with." Cody said.

"I know who is on your roster.  You don't have to give me the run down."  I said a little louder than I had intended.  The issue for me was there was a few people, and one in particular, I was not on good terms with.  When I walked out on wrestling, I had walked out on several friends and relationships in order to get my life in order. 

"Ah, well, we all have ghosts, Kit." Cody said softly and his face gave way to an expression of regret.  There was a heavy silence that fell on the room, and I heard a bang from some pyro for the last match.

"Well, are you going to make it to the point of your visit?" I asked.  Cody seemed to shake it off and slid a hand into his jacket.  Pulling out a thick brown envelope, he said "This is not a contract.  It is an offer of temporary employment to determine if we have a permanent place for you with our family.  Come and work out with us, do some dark matches, make some connections.  Get back into the business and let's see what happens." 

He held this envelope out to me.  My impulse to take it was strong, but my body didn't move.  He smiled and set it down on the bench.

"I am not going to change your name.  I am not going to change who you are.  No one is.  We want Kit Kelly - whoever she is right now, and we hope to be a part of whoever she is in the future.  Where we go from here is up to you.  Read it.  Think on it.  If you sign, I will see you in San Antonio Monday morning.  We have a show coming up and some of us got in early."  He turned and began walking down the hall whistling as he went.

“Jesus." I whispered to myself.

[harmonie-writes]

Spells and Quirks pt. 1

BNHA x Harry Potter crossover - Midoriya x witch reader

Key: (y/h) = your house, (y/p) = your patronus, (y/h/c) = your house color, (y/h/e) = your house emblem

AN: You are a fifth year at Hogwarts, I believe that you start attending school at the age of 11? You would be around the same age as 1-A so roughly 15-16. Things in italics will be recaps and internal thoughts. This is will be a long series, and I’m not sure how many parts yet but there will be more action in later parts! I just have to get everything set up! (:

Warnings: wizard type cursing, cursing (cough Bakugou looking at you)

Spells and Quirks Introduction I Spells and Quirks pt. 2

----------

Recap:

“I believe you asked for these?” You hand Midoriya the glasses and put your wand back into your boot. This boy is shocked and flustered, shaking hand moving to take the glasses from yours. “I think that I was wrong about the fire bases quirk earlier…” Midoriya answers. Both you and Uraraka are sharing the same splitting smile as you can see the gears in both boys heads start turning.

“You’re a witch aren’t you?”

----------

Iida looked like he was about to faint, but Midoriya continued to stare at you with wide eyes and an open mouth. Leaning forward slightly you pressed your index finger onto the bottom of his chin closing it. “You don’t want to catch flies do you?” you smiled while he tried to hide his now hot face. “This is a, um.. surprising?” Midoriya was still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that actual witches and wizards do exist. 

Getting it together, he quickly pulled out his hero notebook and was erasing some of his previous assumptions he made about your “quirk”. Midoriya started spouting questions that you weren’t given time to answer because he quickly thought of another one; this turned into his usual muttering. “Is.. is this normal?” you whispered while leaning away from Midoriya and back to Uraraka who was trying to stifle her laughter. Choking down the laugh, “Ah, yeah yeah this is just normal Midoriya for you,” Uraraka managed to reply.

-Iida.exe back online- Snapping out of his own thoughts on this unveiling Iida managed to get a question out. “You’re a witch.” “Yes.” “So, much like we have hero schools, you have um, magic schools?” “Yes.” “These one worded answers are barely answering my questions!” Iida gestured with his hands to get you to further elaborate. “I know, but Uraraka mentioned something before about how you do wild things with your hands and I wanted to see if that was true to any situation. So far I would say yes.” You grinned at the fact that you threw your friend under the bus for the idea. “I do not move my hands wildly.” Iida stated all while doing frantic hand gestures, and you just stared at his hands. 

“Anyway... well yeah, we have schools that teach young witches and wizards. The school I attend is well known in the wizarding community, it’s known as Hogwarts. As a first year you get sorted into a house based on the Sorting Hats choosing.” “Wait, wait, wait... you get placed..by a hat?..” Iida asked incredulously. Both boys gave you a look like you grew a second head. “Well it’s complicated but this hat openly speaks on your character traits and also takes into consideration your own opinion on a house you might be placed into,” listing on your fingers, “There are four houses Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff. Gryffindors are known for their bravery, Slytherin are cunning, Ravenclaw are intelligent and Hufflepuff are loyal but that doesn’t mean that their traits don’t overlap with each other.” 

Midoriya and Iida both looked at your uniform emblem. “So what house are you apart of then?” Midoriya asked while continuing to scribble the information you described into his notebook. “Oh, I’m a part of (y/h), and it’s my fifth year at Hogwarts!” “Your fifth year?!” “Well we start attending Hogwarts when we are 11, and then graduate when we are 18,” you stated as if this was obvious. 

Midoriya stopped writing for a minute and looked up at you, his flushed face gone and trying to figure out this puzzle. “If there is this large community why haven’t we ever seen anything wizard like?” Midoriya gave you this look that had a vibe of “I want to know more about your world!” 

Letting a breath out through your nose you answered, “The Ministry of Magic keeps the wizarding world a secret from muggles because they don’t understand, but that doesn’t mean every muggle doesn’t. Muggles typically think they see things and are going crazy which is why things are the way they are.” 

Uraraka glances at the clock and sees the late time. “It’s almost curfew guys,” she states looking towards the guys, “we can continue discussing this more tomorrow, and (Y/N) you can meet the rest of the class tomorrow. Just remember we can’t tell them she is a witch.” Nodding the guys say good night and leave the dorm. “Aizawa knows you are staying here for a couple days and I have already filled out your visitors forum,” Uraraka gives a you tired smile.

----------

Sunshine started pouring in through the crack in the window into your eyes. Scrunching up your nose at the sudden light you try blinking away the sleep. You look up from your cot on the floor at Uraraka who is still out like a light. Just for good measure you get up and poke her cheek, “Bloody hell... I was going to ask where the washroom is.” Going toward your trunk by the dresser you pull out a pair of jeans, sweater, towel, wand (you never go anywhere without it) and other necessities you’ll need. “I guess I will have to find it by myself,” you chuckle to yourself taking a look over your shoulder at your best friend. Shaking your head you head to the door and open it quietly. It’s still early and you hope no one is awake yet. Seeing that all the doors are closed and it’s quiet you slip into the hall. Shivering slightly at the cold floor you close the door softly to not wake your friend. Walking past some doors you find the washroom towards the end of the hall and walk in to get ready for the day. Unbeknownst to you, a door that was already creaked open now knows of your presence and how you are not one of the students. Tip-toeing towards the women’s washroom he is stopped by the sound of crackling. “It’s too early for your shit sticky hair,” grumbles a frustrated blonde who was heading towards the men’s. 

“Ah, come on Bakugou. There’s a girl here!” Mineta practically drooled while holding a shaking hand towards the women’s. “No shit there’s a girl. We have a co-ed dorm you dumbass,” the blonde huffs and lets out another small pop from his hands. Successfully spooking the perv back into his dorm. Making sure that his door closed Bakugou continued on with his morning routine.

----------

Uraraka woke up to the sound of her dorm room closing and see her friend re-enter. “Ah.. I forgot how much of an early bird you were,” Uraraka stretched hearing the satisfying pop come from her shoulders and back. “No, you just sleep like the dead,” you laugh at her bed head. “Alright, alright fine maybe you’re right,” she gives, “let me get ready and we can go downstairs and make breakfast.” Giving a nod you slip you wand into your boot.

----------

Walking into the kitchen you see that Midoriya and Todoroki are sitting at the island with tea. “Good morning,” both you and Uraraka greeted the two. “Good morning,” Midoriya smiled back, although it was more towards you. Todoroki hummed a response and gave Midoriya a slight eyebrow raise asking the question of “who’s the girl?” Walking up to Todoroki you stuck your hand out with a small smile, “Hi, I’m (Y/N), I’m Uraraka’s friend.” “Todoroki, it’s nice to meet you,” he gave a polite smile and released your hand. Todoroki was pleased that you didn’t make too big of a deal about his hair or eyes.

“Would either of you like some tea?” Nodding you sat down in the seat next to Midoriya while Uraraka went to find food for both of you. “So Midoriya, Todoroki how many of you live in the dorms?” you asked so you could prep yourself for all the new names and faces you’d have to remember. “Twenty of us, and you already know four,” Midoriya stated. “There is one person who is invisible, floating clothes are normal here,” Todoroki looked at you, “If you don’t mind me asking, what is your quirk?” Stiffening ever so slightly the only person who noticed was Midoriya, but you still responded, “Oh, this is embarrassing,” you covered your face trying to buy time to think of an excuse, “well... I’m actually quirkless. I’m just here on holiday to visit.” Todoroki’s stare was intense (when is it not?), but he seemed to buy it. I guess it wasn’t a complete lie. I don’t have a quirk, but I’m not a muggle either. 

“Todoroki what is your quirk?” trying to get the spotlight off you since you knew you would be stuck in it again later. “Half ice - Half fire quirk,” was his response. “That’s a cool quirk being able to have two,” you smile, you have no idea who is father is or his story. “I prefer to only use my right side,” Todoroki isn’t upset but there is a slight frown on his face. “Did I say something wrong?” leaning into whisper in Midoriya’s ear although Todoroki still heard. “No it’s fine its not important though,” the two toned male shook his head softly. “Ah, I’m still sorry if I said something that might have offended you,” you apologize giving him a small smile, Todoroki nods acknowledging it though.

----------

The five of you are sitting in the common room sharing stories (Iida is with you at this point), when you hear more voices making their way to the common room. Slightly panicked at being in a new setting your hand makes a fist in your lap, you trying steeling your nerves and Midoriya notices setting a hand on your shoulder giving it a small squeeze. You give him a shy smile appreciating the gesture. You know you have at least four people to help make you feel comfortable. 

A group of five entered the common room, almost immediately all eyes fell on your figure on the couch. Everything fell silent for about two-seconds, giving a sheepish grin at the new people you waved. “Uh, hi?” you offered. The pink skinned girl ran up to you engulfing you in a large hug, “Ohmygod you are cute! I’m Mina!” A red-headed boy came to pry her death grip off you while giving you a sharp smile, “I’m Kirishima.” Once released you sucked in a breathe of much need air before responding, “I’m (Y/N).” Kirishima pointed over his shoulder at the other three, “The guy with black hair is Sero, the dude with the lightning bolt in his hair is Kaminari, and the angry blonde is Bakugou.” The guys known as Sero and Kaminari waved at you, which you reciprocated, but Bakugou just huffed and crossed his arms. 

“So your round face’s friend that she has been talking about the last couple of days?” “Round face?” you questioned looking at your friend. “He gives everyone a nickname, and doesn’t call us by our actual name,” Uraraka whispered to you. “Oh,” looking at Bakugou, “yeah I’m her friend and I’m visiting for a few days.”

“I bet I have a stronger quirk than you,” Bakugou stated confidently. “Kacchan... she-” “Shut up shitty Deku! I wasn’t talking to you,” Bakugou glared at the greenette. “But I think it’s important that you know-” Midoriya tried again to cover for you. “Shut it Deku this doesn’t invol-.” Bakugou’s glared focused from Midoriya to you as you cut him off. “You obsolete dingbat! That’s no way to talk to a friend!” you stood up angered at the fact that your friend was being treated poorly. The room went quiet and all eyes looked at you and a fuming Bakugou whose palms were crackling.

----------

Cliffhanger until next time!

[write-havoc]

Of Sons and Daughters Ch 14

Summary: Arthur is tasked by Dutch to watch over a young woman who had just lost the last member of her family she had left. That young woman just so happens to be the daughter that Dutch told no one else about.

This is a non canon AU with no major spoilers

Fandom: Red Dead Redemption 2

Pairing: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character

Status: Ongoing

Contains: swearing, PG 13 smut

Intended for readers 18+ of age only

Masterlist in my bio

There’s an air of tension as the couple rides away from Shady Belle. Despite the fact that Emmeline still doesn’t know exactly what happened between Arthur and Dutch, she isn’t eager to bring it up just yet. Arthur has never been that great with opening up emotionally, and it’s obvious by the look on his face that he’s very upset. It’s quite possible that forcing him into the conversation before he’s ready could make matters worse, which Emmeline certainly doesn’t want to do.

Before too long, they ride up to a small stone cabin nestled in amongst some trees. It’s a little run down, but not at all in horrible shape. It’s actually quite quaint, if Emmeline were forced to put a word to it.

“You know who lives here?” she asks as Arthur helps her dismount from Miss Susie. 

“Some family did,” he answers while the two approach the front of the house. “But they ain’t coming back.” He opens the door to allow Emmeline to go inside, but makes no move to close it behind them.

She walks into the stuffy cabin and looks around. It’s only one room, counters and stove along the back wall with a small living area directly in front of the door they’ve just gone through. There are two lofts on each side accessible by ladders, which she supposes could be where the family slept as there are no other rooms. “How do you know they’re not coming back?”

After he opens the side door to let more fresh air in, he turns back to her. “I found ‘em all dead a while ago. Suffocated from that.” He points to the noticeable crack in the stovepipe off to his right. “Smoked ‘em out, I guess.”

“That’s awful,” Emmeline whispers. “Those poor people.”

“I buried them out back after I found ‘em. It looked like they was dead several days. And no one came around, so I assume they ain’t got no other family. We should be alright to stay here for a while.” He walks over to the stove and begins to study it. “I gotta fix this up so we can eat, though. Don’t wanna smoke ourselves out, too.”

Emmeline just nods, allowing Arthur to get to work in silence. While he does that, she finds a broom in the corner and starts to sweep out the dust lingering on the floor. As she tidies up, she finds a children’s book on a little end table beside a rocking chair. The sight brings tears to her eyes. Arthur had said it was a family that had died here. That apparently meant children, too. The only solace she can find in the situation is that at least Arthur buried them properly and they’re at peace now together.

As the sun sets and with the cabin as clean and fixed up as it can be at the moment, they settle in. Arthur’s repair job on the stovepipe does the trick and they make their dinner without any incident. While they eat, that pervasive awkward silence of the day still surrounds them. Emmeline knows that Arthur is hurting and it’s obvious he’s trying to avoid the topic of his exile as he continues to stare down at his plate.

Finally, he decides to say something. “The ride wasn’t too much for you, was it?”

She shakes her head. “No.”

“I just... I heard women with child shouldn’t be on horses much.”

“I feel just fine,” she answers with a little chuckle, then decides this might be a proper segue into the conversation they’ve been avoiding. “Are you alright, Arthur?”

He looks up at her concerned face and lets out a heavy breath. “No. I don’t reckon I am,” he answers honestly.

She reaches over the table to place her hand on his, hoping to portray that it’s okay to talk with her. “What is it? What happened?”

With a heavy sigh, he decides to answer, figuring he’s put it off long enough. “You heard Dutch. He don’t wanna see me anymore.” The emotion he tries to hide bleeds through regardless, making the last words choked.

“I don’t understand. Why would he say that?”

Arthur hesitates, but pushes forward. “He wanted me to go with him on some job and I told him no.” He shakes his head. “Maybe I shoulda just went,” he mutters into his chest as regret starts to build. 

“Why’d you say no?”

He looks up at her, his eyes glassy of their own accord. “It seemed too dangerous. And-“ he clears his throat. “And I told him I didn’t wanna get myself killed cuz you was pregnant. That’s... when he got really angry. Literally threw me outta the room.”

Emmeline is shocked at the revelation because she thought she has been building a real relationship with Dutch. He had seemed so proud to have her as a daughter and she was actually looking forward to telling him of his upcoming grandchild. The fact that he reacted so poorly has her dumbstruck. She truly thought he’d be happy about it.

“That’s- He got angry because of the baby?”

Arthur nods, trying to steel himself. “Nearest I can figure.” He shakes his head. “He never really did want me with you. He punched me in the face when he first found out. Guess he never thought I was good enough. And apparently I ain’t his family ,” he seethes, Dutch’s final words to him repeating in his head. 

Emmeline, when you come to your senses and leave him, you’ll be welcomed back. You always will. You’re family .

Dutch chose his words carefully; Arthur is sure of that. Stressing that Emmeline is his family also stressed that Arthur isn’t . 

Emmeline shakes her head in disagreement. “I don’t know why he said that. Of course you’re good enough. And just because you ain’t his blood don’t mean you ain’t his family. He should consider you his family, more so than anyone else. Especially me. I haven’t even known him that long.”

He shrugs and looks away, not trusting his own voice to refute her claim. 

“Look at me, Arthur.”

Reluctantly, he does. And as he lifts his head, a tear escapes, tracking down his cheek to disappear into his beard. With that first tear, his resolve to keep everything held back crumbles into a million pieces. 

“All them years,” he chokes out softly, but soon grows in intensity. “Twenty years of doing everything he’s ever asked of me. You know how many beatings I took? How many bullets? How many nights in jail after getting caught doing what he told me to do.” He stands from his chair to start pacing, feeling as if his bones want to jump out of his skin. “Since I met him, all I ever wanted to be was him. What now?!” He turns to her. “He threw me away! Like I was nuthin’ ! All them times he called me son...” He shakes his head as more tears fall. “I love him like a father. How can he put a gun to my head and tell me he never wants to see me again?!”

The weight of those words finally becomes unbearable and he crumbles to his knees in a fit of tears. It’s as if every bad emotion he’s ever bottled away rises to the surface and he’s powerless to do anything but cry openly. All those doubts and fears that he’d get the people he cares about killed. The insecurities he’s felt as a man that could never keep a woman. The guilt of all the people he’s hurt. All of it weighs down on him like a pile of bricks.

Emmeline is quick to go to him to offer what comfort she can. “Please, Arthur. I hate seeing you like this,” she says as she rubs his back. “I don’t know why Dutch would do what he’s done... But I bet he’ll see that he was wrong. Because he is wrong, Arthur. You are a good man. Good enough for me and everybody else.” She takes ahold of his face and tilts it to look at her. “Maybe it don’t mean much, but I love you, Arthur. I love you and our baby and whatever life we have together. We have our whole future ahead of us. So please don’t be sad. I just want you to be happy.”

It’s not that easy, of course. He knows he can’t just shut off the betrayal that he feels deep within his soul over Dutch’s actions. Or the loss of being away from all the people that he considered his family. But hearing that Emmeline, such an innocent, good person actually loves him, makes him feel a little better. And her genuine effort to comfort him in this state adds to that. He’s never been one to show others when he’s felt emotional, hating how vulnerable he’s felt, so no one has ever been there for him in this way. 

One other time in his life when he was young, soon after he joined Dutch and Hosea, did he breakdown like this. He had tried to wander off, so the two older men wouldn’t see him. But Hosea followed. And Arthur spilled his guts. About missing his mother, hating his father. About how he was beaten and stolen from while living on the streets. How he was afraid that Hosea and Dutch would leave him alone again once they see that he wasn’t worth the time. Hosea, of course, patted his back and said all the right things, calming him down and showing that he did care for him. And he insisted that Dutch cared for him, too. And Arthur believed that, truly. Had Dutch changed so much over time? Or had he just used him and his loyalty, never really caring for him?

Overcome with it all, Arthur wraps his arms around Emmeline tightly and holds her to him, trying to accept the comfort she provides. And for most of the night, they stay wrapped in each other’s arms.

Over the next few days, they have many more discussions, trying their best to make sense of everything. Every one of the talks is painful for Arthur, but it’s necessary for him. He begins to realize just how much he’s lived for Dutch during his life. And just how much he hasn’t lived for himself. When Arthur flippantly suggests that Dutch always hated to be out of control, Emmeline realizes that Dutch had been very subtly trying change her opinion of Arthur. She hadn’t given it much thought at the time, but the older man had always made sure to add little criticisms of Arthur when they talked. He never framed them as such, acting like they were innocuous little details, but they really weren’t. When she asks is Dutch could really be that manipulative, Arthur tells her that he certainly could be. 

“Do you think that’s why he did it?” she asks as they lay on their bedrolls one night. “He just hated the thought of you having something outside of the gang? Outside of himself?”

Arthur shrugs a shoulder and turns to face her. “I think it’s possible,” he admits the painful truth. “He always loved bein’ the one everyone relied on, the one everyone looked up to. Maybe he was afraid I’d leave with you and he’d see that as going against him.”

But maybe not. Arthur will never know until he can talk with Dutch again. And he’s not sure if that’s ever going to happen. 

During these days, the couple lives mostly like they had back at Emmeline’s house. Arthur spends time cutting firewood and hunting, which helps keep his mind off of things. Emmeline does her part by tending the house, as well as taking care of the chickens that they managed to wrangle and keep in the pen beside the house.

Away from the prying eyes of the gang, Emmeline doesn’t have to try so hard to hide her swollen belly. It’s still barely noticeable under her clothes, but she rather likes being free to rest her hands on her bump knowing that no one will notice. Even Arthur takes the opportunity to talk to the baby every once in a while, which Emmeline enjoys. Their isolation also means they’re more open to be affectionate with one another. It’s surprising to Emmeline just how much Arthur seeks her out for physical comfort now. She’s unsure if it’s because he is still somewhat emotional about everything, or if this is simply how he is when he doesn’t have to worry about others. Regardless, she has no complaints about the extra hugs and kisses.

It’s a bright and clear day when Arthur spies a wagon headed their way. He’s just about ready to tell Emmeline to go inside, fearful of who would seek them out, when he recognizes the riders and the two horses trailing behind.

Emmeline recognizes them, too. “Is that Hosea?” she asks with her eyes squinted, though before she gets the phrase completely out, she’s sure it’s him. She sends off a hopeful smile to Arthur, assuming Hosea has been true to his word about convincing Dutch to change his mind.

Once the wagon is close enough, Arthur calls out with a wave. “You found us.”

Hosea casts his eyes to the man sitting next to him in the driver’s seat atop the wagon. “Thank Charles. Somehow he tracked you lot. Must be the Indian in him.”

“I just remembered Arthur talking about this place.” Charles dismounts and rounds the wagon to help Hosea out of his seat. “Not too much tracking in it.”

Emmeline is first to notice how slow the older man is moving. “Are you hurt, Hosea?”

Arthur narrows his eyes at him and rushes to help him off the wagon as well. “What happened?” he’s quick to ask, alarm bells sounding in his head.

“Let’s go inside,” Hosea starts as soon as his feet are on the ground. He gestures to a cane up in the footwell of the seat and Charles hands it to him readily. “I’ll explain everything.”

Once Hosea starts to hobble into the small building (having refused any more help), it becomes obvious to Arthur that it’s Hosea’s right leg that has been injured, though he’s unsure exactly how. Instead of outright asking about it, though, he waits for Hosea to explain on his own. Once everyone is sat around the kitchen table, Hosea starts his tale.

“Dutch went ahead with that heist,” he starts plainly. 

“Jesus Christ,” Arthur mutters as he scrubs his hand down his too long beard. Of course Dutch did. And Arthur assumes it didn’t go according to plan since Hosea is hurt.

The older man continues. “Bill and Javier volunteered readily. Sean, too, the fool.” Hosea shakes his head as he casts his gaze to the table.

Charles jumps in. “I was there... I just wanted to make sure no one died.” He adds, looking to Arthur, almost pleadingly. “I don’t agree with what Dutch did and I thought the job was a bad idea, same as you. The only reason I went was to try to get everyone back safe.”

Arthur nods to the man. He wouldn’t fault him for being loyal to Dutch, but he trusts what he’s saying. Charles was always a good friend to him. 

“John outright refused to be a part of it,” Hosea blurts out.

That surprises Arthur. “Really?”

“Yeah. Dutch went to him right after...” Hosea takes in a heavy breath in lieu of finishing that statement. “John may not be the best at showing it, but he’s always looked up to you as his brother. What Dutch did... Most everyone was put off by it, John most of all. No one really said it, but I could tell. People made themselves scarce when it came time to assign jobs in that heist. Lenny went along with his role, thinking since it was his tip, he needed to follow through. But I convinced Dutch to let the boy help me out with the diversion instead of going to the bank itself.” After that, he pauses to order his thoughts.

Emmeline leans in, her curiosity and impatience getting the better of her. “So what happened?”

Hosea takes another moment before answering. “The police were ready for us, just like you thought,” he says to Arthur with a heavy breath. “I had a wagon full of fireworks sitting across town to try to draw them away from the bank. Once me and Lenny set them off, the cops were on us quick. Too quick. They must’ve had even more than we thought stationed all over the city, waiting for something to happen. I took a bullet to the leg trying to get away from them. Lenny had to carry me most of the way. He got shot, too. Grazed, really, but it left a nasty gash. By some grace of god we got out with our lives. I didn’t find out until later what happened at the bank.” He turns to Charles, who takes over with his side of the story.

“It started off the way we planned. Got into the vaults and found the money real quick. But we were surrounded fast trying to get away. We shot our way out of the bank then regrouped in an abandoned apartment. How none of us died, I don’t know. Sean got an ear shot off, but at least it wasn’t his head.”

Emmeline lets out a soft gasp. “So everyone’s alright then? More or less.”

Charles just stares at her a moment before continuing. “We waited until nightfall to try to make it out of the city, hoping the dark would help cover us so we could get back to camp. But there was just too many officers patrolling the streets. We knew we’d never make it to Shady Belle. Not without bring the law back with us. Dutch decided the only way to escape was to get to the docks and try to get on a ship. Lose the police and get back to camp later. There were cops there, too, of course. But not many and we figured they could led away pretty easily. So me and Sean stayed behind, drew the men away from Dutch. The last I saw, he was getting on a boat called Antenor with Bill and Javier. Me and Sean split up, lost the police and got back to camp.”

Arthur looks between the men before finally asking, “So where’s Dutch now.”

“Best guess,” Hosea starts, “on his way to Cuba.”

“Cuba?” Emmeline repeats. “How long will it take him to get back?”

“Weeks, probably.” Hosea looks from Emmeline to Arthur, waiting for him to say something, to realize what this really means.

Arthur looks at the man, but he misinterprets his look. “We can come back to camp. Without Dutch there... I can help out with everything. Get us back on track.”

Hosea just slowly shakes his head. “No, Arthur.”

“What?”

“It’s over,” Hosea answers simply. “The others... They’re leaving or are gone already. There ain’t no camp to go back to.”

Arthur shakes his head, not believing him. “What do you mean? Everyone left ?”

“Kieran, Mary Beth, and Tilly went off to Saint Denis already. Karen, Sean and the Reverend are planning on going up north to New York City. Pearson and Strauss are staying in Rhodes with Susan. And we,” he gestures to Charles, “are going up to Canada with the Marstons and Lenny.” He lets out a sigh. “I told you... what Dutch did, it broke everyone apart. Even though it was Dutch they’ve been following, you were the glue that held us all together, Arthur. And this failed heist was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Dutch...” Hosea lets out another heavy breath. “He’s not the same man he used to be. The man I used to know would have never left you behind, but now... Without Dutch here... it’s better if it’s just done .” He give’s Arthur a soft smile, though there is a sadness to it. “You stay here with Emmeline. Raise your children. Make a life , Arthur.”

“Hosea-“ the younger man starts, but Hosea’s not hearing it.

“You never had the bounty we did from that Blackwater job. The law will leave you alone. You have a real chance here.”

Arthur shakes his head. “You know they ain’t never gonna leave me alone. They ain’t left me alone my whole life.”

“They will,” Hosea throws back. “They will if you go straight, stay away. If the gang is done . The law will move on.” He lets out a heavy breath. “But if you come back, the others will, too. If you come back, the police will treat you the same as they did with Dutch. And they won’t stop. You’ll never be free. You’ll be running forever. And you’ll be dragging Emmeline and that kid with you,” he states as he points to Emmeline’s belly.

She can see the battle raging behind Arthur’s eyes. This is difficult for him, making this huge change in his life, to finally leave the gang lifestyle, once and for all. But she agrees with Hosea, all the same and hopes that Arthur will come to the same conclusion. Without knowing how to put that in words, she just places her hand atop his on the table.

He looks over to her, still unsure. Could he really let them all go? The gang that he’s seen as his family for all these years? Shouldn’t he fight for them? Shouldn’t they all be together through this?

Hosea breaks his thoughts, seemingly reading his mind in the process. “You don’t owe anyone anything, Arthur. We’ll be fine. All you have to do now is start this family of yours.” He looks to Emmeline with a soft smile. “That’s your job now.”

Arthur looks around the room at the people he cares about. When he lands on Emmeline and her big blue eyes, it’s like everything clicks in place. Hosea is right; he can’t be a father and a gunslinger. He tried living two different lives before with Mary, and it didn’t work. He couldn’t be properly invested in either life and that’s not what he wants to do with Emmeline and his child. He wants to be there for them fully.

Making his choice, he finally gives Hosea a nod. “You all keep in touch.”

Hosea lets out a sigh of relief at Arthur’s words. “We will. You staying here?”

“For the time being,” Arthur answers, though a thought crosses his mind. “What’s gonna happen when Dutch comes back?”

“I don’t know,” Hosea says with a shrug. “Hopefully he’ll see the error of his ways. But... We’ll see.” He starts to stand from the table. “Best not to dwell.”

Charles stands as well and helps the older man to his feet. “All your things from Shady Belle are in the wagon,” he directs at Arthur and Emmeline. “You can keep the wagon, too. We got another one back at camp waiting for us with the Marstons.”

Emmeline smiles at him. “Thank you, Charles.”

Once they’re all outside, Arthur insists on being the one to help Hosea onto his horse. “You take care of yourself, now. And make sure John takes care of that family of his.”

“I will,” the older man answers with a chuckle. “Even if I have to take him over my knee like I did when he was young.”

Arthur laughs at the memory. “He prolly needs it.” He sends a nod to Charles, hoping the man understands how grateful he is for everything he’s done.

Charles sends one in return before turning his horse to the road.

“Goodbye,” Emmeline calls out to the retreating men. “Write soon!” After a moment, she looks over to Arthur as he stares out at the road. “What are you thinking?”

He flicks his gaze to her. “I ain’t so sure, I guess,” he answers honestly.

She takes ahold of his hand and looks up to him. “We’ll be okay,” she declares with full confidence.

For the first time in a very long time, Arthur is in a completely new situation in his life. He doesn’t have a whole group of people to hunt for. Or have to keep his ears open in town to find a mark. Or go after a stagecoach and hope they’re carrying what they’re supposed to. And it’s different from the first time he lived with Emmeline. This isn’t temporary. This is how the rest of his life will be. 

Honestly, it’s all a little daunting to have the freedom he has now. But it’s also exciting in a way. Before, he was the muscle, the hired hand and that’s it. Now, he’s going to be a father to his child, a provider to his woman. Things he never really was before. 

Time goes on for the couple. After about a week, Arthur decides to ride out to nearby Emerald Ranch to inquire about a proper job. If they are going to live on their own and raise a child, money will become an issue. And it’ll have to be made legitimately from now on if he wants to keep his family truly safe. 

Arthur rides up to the familiar barn on the edge of the small town and meets the owner beside it. 

“Ain’t seen you in a while,” Seamus greets as he wipes his hands on his dirty leather apron. “You got anythin’ for me?” the fence asks, figuring Arthur is here to offload some gold or jewelry that managed to find themselves in his possession.

Arthur shakes his head. “Nah. I actually came here to ask ya something. You know of any jobs around here?”

Seamus leans forward a little and shifts his eyes around the immediate area for any prying ears. “I know of a stagecoach-“ he whispers, but is cut off by the man in front of him. 

“I didn’t mean like that,” Arthur explains. “I meant like farm work and the like.”

Seamus raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Farm work? You?”

“Yeah,” he bites back, his temper rising. 

“Alight, alright.” Seamus raises his arms to placate Arthur, not wanting to get on his bad side. “Go around to the stable and talk to Gary. He always seems to yammer on about needing extra help. He might have something for you.”

Arthur nods and starts to walk away. “Thank you,” he throws over his shoulder. 

“If you find anything you ain’t got a use for,” Seamus hollers back, “you know where I am.”

Arthur walks down the street and to the stables in question, finding several people hard at work. “You know where I could find Gary?” he says to closest man he sees. 

“That’s me,” the man responds. His clothes are filthy, showing that even at this early hour, he’s put in a lot of work already. “What can I do for you?” he asks as he wipes his brow with the back of his hand. 

“Was wonderin’ if you got a job you’re hirin’ for.”

“That depends. What kinda job you lookin’ for?”

“Anything, really. I gotta pregnant woman at home and lookin’ for anything that’ll pay.”

Gary nods. He’s seen some rough people come through his small town (maybe even the man before him pulling into Seamus’s barn once or twice) that he wouldn’t be too keen with taking on. But he was raised Christian and can’t rightly turn a family man away, especially if a little one is due to come.

“I recon we could use another set of hands. And you look strong. You ever put up fencing?”

“No, sir. But if you show me, I can do it.”

“It’s hard work here,” he comments, figuring this man hasn’t done this kind of work before in his life. “You sure you want it?”

“Yes, sir, I am.”

Two months pass, with Arthur working six days a week doing whatever is asked of him. Mending fences, cleaning stables, hauling hay, filling troughs. Even fixed the roof on the barn that sprung a leak. The money he takes home certainly isn’t as easily gotten as what he’s used to, but it fills him with a sense of pride. Even in this short amount of time, he’s been able to save up some of that money to put toward a proper house of their own. One with land and enough room for children, hopefully. And maybe he’ll even have enough money left over to give Emmeline a ring one day. 

When he gets back to the cabin every night, Emmeline has his dinner ready for him. As they eat, he tells her about his day and she listens intently, happy to have him back home. He can’t help himself from smiling at her sometimes, wondering just why a woman like her would look at him the way she does. Even if he feels like he doesn’t deserve it, having her here with him fills him with a warmth he hasn’t ever really felt before.

Emmeline tries her best to make their little cabin a home. Even with her belly noticeably expanded now, she finds herself having a bit more energy than she did before and this leads to her being more active during the day. After she’s done all the cleaning and with no one else there to entertain her, she usually sits down to write her stories. Maybe no one else will ever care about them, but she loves reading Arthur her finished tales. And he always seems to like them, which makes her happy. She can’t help but be excited for the time that she will read them to her children. 

One hot day as Arthur is hauling a bale of hay off to the stables at Emerald Ranch, he sees a most unwelcome man approaching him. 

“Mr. Morgan,” Agent Milton calls out as he takes slow, confident steps toward him.

Arthur sets the hay down in front of the horses and turns back to the fence where Milton is now standing on the other side. 

“What do you want?” he spits out as he approaches. 

“Can’t a gentleman have a friendly conversation?” he throws back easily as he casually leans on the fence, one foot propped up on the bottom wrung.

“Sure. A gentleman can. But that ain’t you. So what do you want?” he repeats. 

Milton lets that slide for the moment and produces a newspaper from his jacket. “You read the paper, Mr. Morgan?” he asks as he holds it up. 

Arthur shakes his head in annoyance, not knowing where he’s going with this. “Not really.”

“You really should.” Milton unfolds the paper with a flourish and points to an article towards the bottom of the second page, prompting Arthur to read it. Begrudging, he takes the paper and scans the words quickly. 

CARGO SHIP LOST AT SEA was the headline. Further on, Arthur reads The ship Antenor, bound for Cuba with cargo, is feared to be lost at sea. Remnants of a ship began washing ashore weeks ago, though it was unknown what vessel they came from. With news that the Antenor never made port in Havana and none of its crew having been heard from since, it’s assumed to be the vessel in question. There were reports of storms during the time of its passage, which it most likely encountered. Everyone aboard is considered lost. 

Arthur’s eyes go wide. He recognizes the name. That’s the boat Charles had said Dutch, Bill, and Javier escaped on. Before Arthur can process it further, Milton speaks. 

“You see, we knew it was Dutch that hit that bank in Saint Denis. We were ready for him. But somehow, he escaped the bank alive. When we finally picked up his trail, it led us to the docks. Nearest we could figure, he stowed away on on of those ships and set sail.” He points his finger down at the paper. “That was the only ship he could’ve left on. And judging by the expression on your face, you already knew that.”

Arthur looks up at the man, realizing what he’s trying to do. “I weren’t there,” he asserts. 

“I know. But you still knew Dutch was. And that makes you very interesting to me.”

Arthur throws the paper back to the man, though Milton makes no move to stop it hitting his chest. “What the hell do you want with me if Dutch is dead and gone? I ain’t doing nothing that’s any of your business here. You see me workin’?” he throws his arms out to say. “That’s all I been doin’! Ask around! You gonna arrest me for feeding horses?!”

For a moment, Milton seems unfazed by the outburst. But then he leans toward Arthur and puts a scowl on his face, all pretense lost. “You may be law abiding at the moment, but I know men like you. You never change. And you certainly ain’t no family man, no matter how many children you put in that Van Der Linde bastard woman of yours back home. You’ll be back to thieving and killing soon enough.” He pulls back. “And I’ll be watching, waiting for that moment so I can bring you in and charge you with all the things Dutch missed out on.”

Without another word, Milton turns and walks away, leaving the paper strewn on the ground. Standing there, Arthur takes a moment before reaching through the fence and picking the paper up. He doesn’t even look it over again before he refolds it as best he can and shoves it in his satchel.

“Arthur!” one of the other farmhands calls out. “Could you help me over here?”

He turns to the man and nods. “Yup,” he answers and heads his way, thankful for something to occupy his thoughts. Working to keep from thinking about what just happened sounds like a great idea right now.

After the work day is done, he gets on Sparrow and starts to ride away from the ranch. He doesn’t head straight home, though. Rather, he finds a secluded wooded area and dismounts, heading through the tall trees until he finds a felled stump to sit on. Pulling out the newspaper from his satchel, he reads it over again, allowing himself to fully take in the words on the page this time.

Dutch was on that ship. And it was lost with no survivors. Javier... Bill... Dutch ... all gone. Dead. He’ll never see them again. Never...

It had taken Arthur a while to fully settle into his life outside of the gang. But he had always thought there’d be time to fix things with Dutch. To at least have some sort of relationship, even if it wasn’t the same as it was. But that will never happen now. All Arthur can think about is that Dutch went to his watery grave hating him. The man that was more of a father to him than his own father hated him in the end. And he can never make it right now.

As Arthur rereads the article for the umpteenth time, he feels tears prickle beneath his eyelids. No matter how hard he tries to hold them back, the emotion finally breaks through, like floodwaters overwhelming a dam. He openly sobs thinking about how he’s going to tell Emmeline about this. And what he’ll say to Hosea, too. Even if they were both mad at Dutch, he knows they never would have wanted him dead. Despite the man Dutch had become, he would always be, in part, the man that raised him, the decades long partner in crime to Hosea, the man that helped bring Emmeline into this world. He was important to them all and his loss will surely hurt for years to come.

“Damnit, Dutch,” he chokes out as he wipes the tears from his eyes. “Why the hell didn’t you listen...”

He stays there for nearly an hour purging his emotions before steeling himself to head home. As he rides up to the cabin, he scrubs his handkerchief over his face to make sure he looks as normal as possible. Once he gets Sparrow all situated on the makeshift hitch he made for the horses beside the house, he opens the door to his home and sees Emmeline stand from her seat at the table to greet him.

“You’re late,” she says, but the look on his face tells her it’s for a reason. “What happened?”

He takes a heavy breath and wills his voice to be strong. “It’s...” He looks away from her and unfolds the newspaper from his satchel, handing it over. “It says that ship Dutch was on-“

She starts to read over the article, but doesn’t have to get much further than the headline to realize why Arthur is upset. “This is the ship-?”

He nods. “He’s... They’re-“ 

He can’t finish the statement, but she understands all the same what Dutch’s fate was. Even with what happened, Emmeline had similar hopes as Arthur regarding her father. She wanted him to come to his senses and reconcile with them. Not just for Arthur’s sake, but to be in his grandchild’s life, too. She had hoped they could have a real extended family with all the aunts and uncles and cousins that could go along with it. But that’s not meant to be, it seems. 

Instantly, she begins to cry. And once she looks up to Arthur with tears in her eyes, he’s quick to bring her into a hug, choosing to focus on her rather than wallowing in his own hurt at the moment.

“I’m so sorry, Arthur,” she sobs into his chest then pulls back to look up at him. “Are they really sure?”

He swallows hard to get rid of the lump in his throat. “They put it in the paper,” he replies weakly.

“I just can’t believe it. I can’t believe he’s... they’re gone.” She steps back to look up at Arthur and sees the hurt behind his eyes. “This is just so awful.”

He nods slightly, unable to think of what else to say.

Blinking rapidly, she tries to wrap her head around all of this. “At least we know, I suppose. If you hadn’t read the paper, we would always be wondering where they were.”

“Actually,” Arthur starts, a little relieved to switch this conversation into a different direction before his emotions would get the best of him again, “I didn’t just read it. Agent Milton showed it to me.”

Her eyes go wide with shock. “What? The Pinkertons found us?”

“Yeah,” he answers lowly. “At least Milton did, anyways. And he told me in no uncertain terms that he’ll be ready to lock me up at the drop of a hat.”

“You ain’t been doing nothing bad, though.”

“I know. But with men like him... that don’t matter much. I think he’s just out for revenge now.”

“So what do we do?”

“I’m thinkin’ we should leave. Go someplace they won’t think we would.”

“We could go up to Canada. Meet up with Hosea and John and all them.”

“Nah. It’s too late in the year. We head that far north, we’ll get stuck in the snow. It wouldn’t be too good for you and the baby.”

“So where then?”

He thinks a moment. “South. Blackwater.”

“Blackwater? Really?”

“I reckon they’d think I wouldn’t set foot there again. So it might be our best bet.”

She nods after a moment. “Okay. We should do that.”

“There’s a lot of land around there. Enough for us to raise some animals, prolly.”

“I’d like that,” she replies with a small smile. “Enough room for a family, too.”

He smiles back and says, “Sure. I suppose we’re gonna need that sooner than later.” He steps to her and lays his hand on her baby bump. “This cabin was always too small for us. Add another one and we’ll be walkin’ on top of each other. And you ain’t gonna be able to get up the latter to bed pretty soon.”

She laughs then gives him a sweet kiss on the cheek. “I like the thought of our own farm. And you could raise horses. You always loved working with them.”

He lets himself daydream about all that for a moment. And despite the stressful events of the day and the sadness they brought, it brings a smile to his face. Owning his own farm or ranch- owning his own land - will be a completely new experience for him, but he’s realizing that it’s one he wants desperately.

“That sounds perfect,” he replies as he brings her in for a hug. “Just perfect.”

[ftm-quest]

Hello, so I figured I might as well talk a little bit about my last surgery on the 26th of July.

As I’ve mentioned before, in Germany (or at least in my clinic) there are four total stages to phalloplasty: 1. “kleiner Aufbau” (clitoral release/metoidioplasty, urethral lengthening, vaginectomy, oopherectomy, hysterectomy), 2. “großer Aufbau” (the phallus is formed using skin from the forearm, urethral opening is pointing down again), 3. connection of the new urethra in the phallus, construction of the glans and scrotum, 4. erectile and testicular implants. Far as I’m aware, these stages are broken up to lower the risk for complications.

I am now about 2 weeks post stage 1. Overall I had to stay in the hospital for 10 days post op. I went to the Chirurgische Klinik München Bogenhausen, which is a clinic with a team of very skilled, young and well trained surgeons, well known among trans men for their skill in phalloplasties. Absolutely worth the 6 hour train trip in my opinion. In the following I will go over more detail of my hospital stay.

Day before the surgery

I arrived about an hour late to my pre-treatment interviews the day before the surgery (thank you Deutsche Bahn), which was fine in the end though, but I had to wait a little longer at their offices. The talk with the urologist was very good, I felt like she explained every step well and carefully and took her time with me (not that I needed much because I knew about most things already). After that I got admitted to the hospital, where I already saw some trans men while I was checking in at the reception desk. My room was on station one, which is known for being the station with almost exclusively trans patients. I shared a room with (apparently during his stay) the only other guy that had stage 1 like me. We got along super well, I got to ask him a bunch of questions, it was great. Some time during the evening I had to get an enema to empty out my intestines (I also wasn’t allowed to really eat anything apart from very salty broth as soon as I was admitted, which sucked because I hadn’t eaten much all day), which was an.... interesting experience, but not terrible.

Surgery day

Once again I got lucky and my surgery was the first, so I got woken up at about 6:20 am and got to take another shower (shaved some more, I had already shaved at home which I strongly recommend, especially if you have a lot of body hair like me), put on the hospital gown and waited and waited until about 7:15 am (felt like hours) when I was picked up by a nurse and rolled down to the OP floors. Had to say my name and birth date to about a million people (for confirmation that they got the right guy) and eventually got my narcosis (took longer than for mastectomy).

When I woke up, I kinda just woke up every once in a while for a few seconds and would doze off again. I didn’t really talk to the nurses there, but listened to them talk a bit to other patients. Had a little bit of pain if I remember right in the area of the uterus and I was just kinda sleepy from what I remember. Later, when I was rolled back up to my room, the nurses told me that I had been moving a lot in the wake up room which I have no awareness or memory of at all and they had to give me some more meds to keep me still. Back in my room I think I was a bit better again, talked a bit to my roommate and all. I can’t remember that much from that day, but I know it was very uneventful, I slept a bunch.

Days after surgery

I hadn’t really eaten anything for the first one or two days after surgery because I was afraid of having to puke from the anesthesia, but eventually I got around to it some morning. On the first day post op I got to stand up once for a few seconds, felt a little woozy and then lied down again. Overall I sometimes had pain mostly in the urethra area, didn’t have much pain from the vaginectomy at first. They give you lots of pain meds tho, so it never really gets bad. On day 2 post op they helped me stand up again and from that point on I was allowed to stand up and walk around on my own, empty my catheter on my own and so on. Walking was a little uncomfortable, I had to walk kinda slow and all. Also that day my roommate got released after having some troubles urinating without a catheter, but eventually it worked out for him and he didn’t need to get another suprapubic catheter. On day 3 post op I had to switch rooms (I later found out that my old room got women and I guess they didn’t want to have mixed rooms) and my new roommate was just at stage 3. We didn��t get along quite as perfectly as I did with my roommate before (we were both sad he had to leave so soon), but we eventually got along better and better as time progressed. He had some more complications and we both ended up leaving the hospital on the same day. But it was pretty cool because he told me a bunch about the second stage, gave me some tips and actually showed me his penis. It was really amazing seeing it in person and not just in photos, it does look and seem quite different, but it looked very impressive and real and I just can’t wait.

At day 4 post op they removed the drain and the “band aids” over my genitalia which finally removed the pains I was getting from the band aids pushing into my vaginectomy wounds, but on the downside introduced me to the real annoyances and pains of catheters. Since now the catheter was free to move around (before it was fixed through the thick layers of band aids) it could introduce all kinds of discomfort and pains to the sensitive area. I’d say it progressively moves from just being annoying to being more and more painful. In general my t-dick has been feeling painfully overstimulated since about 6 or so days post op and it still does. On the other hand catheters are also kinda handy since you don’t have to get up all the time to pee! Also after the removal of the last band aid one day later I was finally allowed to shower again. Very difficult and painful with a catheter.

Moving around was pretty easy for me relatively early on and I could do most things already just a few days post op, except for sitting. I was worried the sitting could cause problems on the train ride home, but when I tried to sit again on the last days, I could do it without much trouble.

As the days went on, the catheter got more annoying, I got less pain meds (only at night) and the days became more and more boring. Finally on day 9 post op I got my catheter removed very early in the morning. Short little sting but nothing bad. At first I had trouble peeing and I felt like I couldn’t completely empty my bladder. Later on though, when I had an ultrasound to check on the amount of urine in my bladder (my brother who is studying medicine did it because the doctor found out that he studies medicine and wanted to let him try, was kinda awkward), I only had about 40ml in my bladder which is more than good enough, thus sealing the decision that I will be allowed to leave the next day. On that day I also took a shower and peed in the shower (which worked much easier than sitting on the toilet for some reason) and the feeling of seeing your stream go forward like that and being able to control where it goes... Much more impactful that I ever imagined. I also eventually tried standing to pee at the toilet which worked out pretty well, although I get tiny sprinkles at the edges of the toilet (no idea why) and I have to get my pants down completely. The last few drops have to be dried with a piece of toilet paper.

And so I did, the train ride back luckily did not have nearly as many problems as the ride there, although I did have to carry my luggage a bit (which you aren’t really supposed to because it’s too heavy...). On the plus side, I peed standing at a public toilet on the train for the first time, which was also pretty awesome. No more sitting on disgusting public toilets!

Days at home

On the first morning home, I had a bit of a shock because I initially experienced the same problems as my first roommate that I couldn’t pee well as in only drops came out instead of a stream and it felt like my bladder wasn’t completely emptied. Luckily it got better an hour or so later. I’ve been having that problem for all days since I got home although I noticed it got a bit better since about yesterday. Most likely areas around my urethra are more internally swollen at night and thus close the urethra a bit in the morning. I actually feel pain when I completely empty my bladder right in the area where it feels like the swollen tissue is compromising the urethra. Overall though, it’s just getting better and better. I haven’t been taking any meds in a long time, the stitched already look really well healed, the wounds on the stomach from the oopherectomy and hysterectomy are super tiny for me and already super well healed.

I won’t have to work for the next 1 1/2 weeks, which should be more than enough time to recover. Honestly with the work I do I could already work again, but hey gotta use any sick leave you get right. I am a little bored most days, but my girlfriend is coming back soon so then things will get brighter and more fun again!

Next surgery and conclusion

My time at the hospital was boring, but almost all nurses were very friendly, funny and competent, the food was decent (hated dinner) and to me it was just an incredible experience that is hard to describe to be at a clinic where almost everyone is a trans patient that is further along in their medical transition than I am. You see so little of trans men in media, in communities just anywhere and even less of trans men with bottom surgery. It’s been my experience as well many others that the further along you go on your road to and along phalloplasty the harder it gets to relate to trans men that are still early in their transition. So finally being around people like me and people more experienced than me in this aspect was just amazing and I am very grateful and looking forward to my next stay.

Regarding that, from what I heard from other trans men usually the waiting time for stage two is about 4 months, which won’t work for me because of university. I hope I will be able to get an appointment in mid February because that will be the last time I can be missing for 6 weeks (I will most likely be doing internships this time next year). More importantly I hope my arm will be ready in time as I have not yet been able to start epilation because of the long long process of getting confirmations from my insurance. I am now waiting on the last confirmation after having had a consulation and after that I can finally start. Hopefully at least the area they use to build the urethra will be done in time, as the rest can be done post op as well.

Additionally, I find it interesting to note that from what I hear in the clinic, most patients that have complications are smokers, so since I have never smoked in my life and my healing so far has went really well, I count my chances high for staying complication-free.

In the end, this stage 1 doesn’t do much for me in regards to dysphoria apart from the fact that I can pee standing (just not at urinals), but with this experience of having surgery, being closer to phalloplasty than ever and having met and talked to men that have already had it, I have never been more excited and anxious to finally have phalloplasty and I really really can’t wait until it’s finally here. I know the hospital time will be very difficult, but the joys and new discovery of my own body and more will be worth all the struggle.