#whereas my current one if she gets a suspicion about your work i get the impression she starts to audit you

[iamnotlookingidonotseeit]

pretty cringe of me to be freaking out over not meeting a requirement that I knew I was being lax about but didn't know was an actual hard and fast Rule

[thatonesadending]

Caleb gets to show Molly his Tower, but Essek doesn't approve (Chapter 3)

Caleb knew he was being childish, overly excited. But he had put a lot of work into his tower, spent a lot of time thinking about his friends and their own stories, and how they impacted him. He was eager to share it with Molly. The man was that was ostentation to a fault, and so Caleb thought he might appreciate how much thought and whimsy he had put into their little band of hero’s home away from home.

He lead Molly through the entrance of the Tower, he hadn't explained anything, and the tieflings reaction didn't disappoint.

“What the fucking hell. I am still dead aren't I?” He had almost ghosted past Caleb to the middle of the Entryway. Looking up, he gasped and put his hands on his hips. “Caleb Widogast, you tricked me. You made me think I was going back to the material plane, but this, - this is Heaven, isn't it.”

Caleb couldn't help but chuckle at the mocking tone. He was surprised when Molly looked back away from the ceiling, and stode back to Caleb to clasp his shoulders. “I knew you were a sneaky little bastard, smarter then you let on. Good Boy.” Caleb should have felt embarrassed at the teasing praise, but he wasn’t, at least not yet. Mollymauk continued to wander around the Entryway. He spent a good long while asking questions and Caleb gladly answering.

“How do you get up there?” Molly pointed up thru the center of the tower, after taking in all the windows and art surrounding him.

“Come, I will show you.” Caleb offered his hand to the other man, normally he would not be so bold, but he was riding a high from having all of his worries and suspicions so easily dowsed. He could overthink things later, currently, he just wanted to think about the now, something that Molly valued.

Molly took it easy, and Caleb told him all he had to do was think “up”. Of course, in an effort not to be outdone, he said what Caleb could guess was the infernal translation and pulled the wizard with him.

They made it to the center of the salon floor before Mollymauk stopped and stared. Truth be told, isn't not that Caleb had forgotten, but he had never thought Molly would see the salon, never prepared an explanation for the large stained glass window. He had made it of course as a tribute that the other Nien would appreciate as much as he. It hadn't occurred to Caleb until that moment that he had surrounded his books, his knowledge around the lighted artwork that represented Mollymauk Tealeaf.

“Caleb, I -” he wasn't sure he had ever experienced Molly speechless before. Embarrassment was spreading up his neck, and Caleb wanted to find a way to explain, minimize - lie - about the significance of the fact that the third floor of the Mighty Niens home has a vast library containing all the books and knowledge Caleb ever held dear, and a larger than life depiction of Molly’s tattoos, that case color and light on all of Caleb’s texts. He wanted to say that he had just made it as a comfort for his still grieving friends, but he couldn’t. He wouldn’t lie.

Surprisingly Cad started answering some of Molly’s questions when he eventually stopped staring. It wasn't until Caleb scanned the room and remembered that Essek was also with them, that he realized Caduceus was being more polite than him.

Caleb tentatively walked over to the other wizard, unsure of what to say. There had been a lot of floating and conflicting feelings around the two of them as of late, but Caleb had just started to feel like they had been unraveling them, getting to a place where they could be more than friends with a tentative trust. But then Caleb had asked Essek on this trip, and then literally kissed the enemy. He had no idea what the man must be thinking.

“Thank you for guarding me, you know - while I cast th-”, but he was caught off by Essek.”

“This is foolish.” Caleb hadn't been expecting the reprimand. Essek didn't let him respond.

“You have now twice let a man that may or not contain a friend that you knew for only a couple of weeks into your home. Shared your secrets. For what Caleb? I understand that your friends and you -”

Caleb cut him off abruptly, but did not slow Essek down. “Our friends.”

“Yes, our friends - have an affinity for this ‘Mollymauk’, but it is my understanding that you only knew the man for 4-5 weeks. How do you know this isn’t Lucien? Playing off your limited memories of a man who barely knew you. Whereas I -”

The door two floors below them slammed open, and Caleb found himself prepping to use his arcane fire, but all he saw was the rest of the Nien trudging in, and closing the door behind the,

“Cad, do you think you could come heal Beau? She is ok, we got Cree, but Jester is a bit tapped.” Fjord’s deep voice rung through the tower. Cad excused himself from Molly, and drifted down to Beau. the rest of them followed soon after, back to the Entryway. Caddie quickly took care of all of them, but took care not to include Cree, who was flung over Yasha’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes and unconscious.

“Molly what do you think?! Isnt great?!” Jester asked to her fellow tiefling.

“Love, I am fairly sure that I am stuck in a coma or a demiplane somewhere, but this all couldn't possibly be real.” He said with a grateful smile on his face. Caleb barely heard Essek mutter, uncharastically, ‘I am sure you would fuck with demiplanes.’ Before Caleb could confront that, Molly was calling to him.

“Caleb, this is truly fantastic, and I really would love to see it all, but I wasn't lying when I said I was tired. I don't know what that other guy did with this body, but it doesn't feel like sleep.”

“Oh Molly! You can stay with me! I am sure you don't want to be alone, and Essek has the guest room, and my room is like - really really awesome. We can totally snuggle and I can-” Fjord was growling again, it wasn't loud, but just displeased enough that Jester heard. Caleb wasn't sure what to make about this recent possessive streak, but he knew his own jealousy isn't helpful since Fjord had obviously scared Molly.

“Or maybe Yasha would be better, she really really missed you.” Jester supplied, with a bashful smile.

“That would be divine dear, if that’s ok with Yash, don't want to intrude, love.” Molly said, but he seemed to be struggling with something. It Caleb only a moment to realize that the man was overwhelmed with their change in dynamic, unsure of how he fit in, and might need some space.

“Actually, that might not be necessary.” Caleb hadn't planned on telling them all, but he also hadn't planned on being able to bring back Molly as such. He kicked himself mentally for not arranging things in the tower before he cast it, but hopefully the others left him alone about it. He wasn’t going to hold his pride up before making sure Molly knew that he belonged here with his family.. “Both Mollymauk and Essek have their own rooms if they choose to stay in them.”

Caleb noticed Essek’s normally imperceptible demeanor change, soften just a bit, he was thankful for it after their brief but tense exchange.

“Ah, Essek, I had wanted to show you your first night here, but unfortunately circumstances as they were prevented that. I would show you tonight, but I would like to take Mollymauk to his, seeing as this is all a bit new to him.” Caleb waved his hands to indicate the tower, but what he didn't say was why it could only be him that could show Molly.

“That is alright. I would be glad to wait, I didn't get to explore your library as much as I would have liked anyway.” Essek’s offer of patience was welcomed. It meant that he wasn’t too angry with Caleb. “Thank you, Essek.” Caleb knew the others didn't understand Caleb’s gratitude, but he didn't care at this moment.

“Caleb, when did you find the time to make Molly a room? And I count the same amount of doors, where is?” Of course, Beau would be the one to pick up and challenge Caleb on this first. He couldn't think of a convincing lie, so he tried to go for nonchalant.

“On the floor above Veth’s and my own.” He tried to say it casually, but not a single pair of eyes around him didn't stare.

“Caleb, when did you put a room for Molly on the eighth floor?” The question came telepathically, though Caleb could hear Beau’s pointed tone perfectly. His eyes immediately jumped to his hands, the other red eye still there. Before panic could flood him about what that meant, Beau was in his mind again.

“We can worry about it tomorrow, Molly doesn't have any eyes on him other than his tattoos, we probably just have to kill this city. Now, tell me, when?”

So he wasn’t going to be able to avoid this.

“It’s always been there.” A simple answer to a very complicated issue.

“Fuck man, why didn't you - I, I didn't know.” Caleb didn’t like hearing her pity. Part of him was grateful that she understood why he had included it in his floor of memories, however, he didn't want to talk about it just now. Everyone was still staring at him, they knew Beau was in his head, and likely knew what she was asking, but mercifully not saying anything.

“Ja, well, Yasha can put Cree in one of the rooms of requirement, no? For us to deal with tomorrow?” He supplied quickly to change the focus of the room. “And I can take Mollymauk, to at least change into different clothes for now, and he can choose where he stays.”

“That sounds like a fine plan, I can help Yasha. Then we all can get settled for some needed rest.” Fjord supplied, taking control of the situation from Caleb, which he was very grateful for.

“Lovely. Caleb, dear, take me wherever you want, to be honest, I would be happy to sleep on the floor right here, but I’d love a change of clothes just as much.” Molly didn’t look tired, as much as a man who really wanted to catch his breath. Caleb knew this feeling well, and only hoped he could maybe provide a calm space for Molly to get a little more acclimated in. Without really thinking about it, he put out his hand to the purple man, and of course, he took it in return.

“You only need to think the word ‘up’.” He reminded.

“But where is the fun in that? Up.” Molly tugged Caleb up through the floors of the towers, and he couldn't help but laugh at the other man’s enthusiasm as he fell upwards.

[k7l4d4]

Midnight Striga: Fairy Tail/Owl House Cross Fic Episode 6 Part 3

Hello, and once again, welcome to the exciting world of Midnight Striga! Everybody Clap Your Hands!!

Eda easily slipped through the crowd, one of the benefits of being a skilled pickpocket, scanning the faces around her. Her eyes brightened when she finally spotted the girl she was looking for. “Luz!” She called out, signalling the girl over. As Luz spotted Eda in turn, she grinned, sauntering over.

“Hey Eda! How’d your conversation go?” Luz asked casually, hands tucked in her pockets.

Eda gave a confident smirk, expertly holding in the awkwardness she knew was trying to peek through. “Eh, as well as it was gonna go. Still, I think me and Gwen are gonna be fine.” She replied, giving an easy shrug. Things between her and her mother may still be rough, but they now had a starting point to build something healthy. Together.

Luz gave a wistful smile. “Man, that must be nice.” She said, an almost dreamy look to her face, much to Eda’s confusion. Shaking her head, Luz cleared her thoughts. “Anyway, I got to ask something.”

“Fire away.” Eda prompted.

Luz smirked, laughing lightly. “I overheard some kids talking, do you know what this whole Moonlight Conjuring thing is?” She asked, slightly cocking her head.

“Moonlight Conjuring? Pfft! It’s some baby magic ceremony where kids hold hands and try to use the power of the moon to bring something to life.” Eda said dismissively. She had honestly forgotten that it was around that time of year for it. Ugh. She raised an eyebrow at the look of shock Luz had. “What’s with the look?”

“Are you saying that parents WILLINGLY let their kids attempt a Lunar Ritual!? Annually!?” She demanded, a wild look in her eyes.

Eda reeled back at the intensity. “Whoa, kid! You’re gonna have to explain a little. What’s the big deal, the ritual never works!” She should know, all those times she and… anway, all those times she’d tried to do it as a kid, and it never worked, not even once!

“I can think of a few reasons why if my hunch is right.” Luz dryly stated, though Eda was mostly certain that wasn’t a jab at her. This time at least. Luz grew serious. “Eda, this is big stuff. Lunar Rituals, even minor ones, are insanely powerful, and can cause all kinds of chaos!” She huffed. “Man, this job just got tougher.”

That instantly caught Eda’s attention. “What job?” She asked, raising an eyebrow in suspicion. If this was a trap…

Luz snorted. “That Blight girl from the Covention is holding a Conjuring for her and some of her friends, and asked me to run Bodyguard duty so that they feel safe.” She shrugged. “I mean, usually I’m the one getting PAST bodyguards, not acting as one, but it seemed like something to do, you know?”

Eda paused, mulling it over. She knew the Blights, the parents that is, and she didn’t trust either of them, not really. Al was deceptively absent-minded, but was brilliant when it came to playing the game and getting the best results for him and his, whereas Dolly was… an experience in patience testing, even by Eda’s lofty standards of weaponized annoyance. Still, if it came from the kid, it probably wasn’t a trap. “Eh, I got no problem with it.” She finally said. “Just keep your eyes peeled around her parents. Al and Dolly aren’t the kind of people you should trust. Like, at all.” She finished, voice growing grave.

Luz lightly bit her lip, softly kicking at the ground. “Yeah, I understand.” She was intimately familiar with adults of those types. Eyes brightening, she added, “But hey, it’s still a party, right? I bet I can sneak out some snacks for you, King and Hooty after I’m done!” She winked, a cheeky grin on her face. Eda laughed at that. Chuckling, the two made their way home, Eda chugging the potion before she forgot about it again. When they got back, they encountered the honestly hilarious sight of King tied up to a pole over a pile of leaves, Hooty reading off a list of charges before a court of stuffed animals. After they finished laughing, and King stopped screaming in embarrassment, the group went inside, gathering supplies.

“I don’t care what you say, I AM GOING WITH YOU TO THE NIGHT MARKET!!” King shouted, stomping his foot. It almost looked bratty, were it not for the fact he was also stuffing supplies into a fanny pack from Eda’s junk piles. For all his attitude, he was serious about going with her.

“Ugh! Fine, fine! Just settle down already!” Eda groaned, relenting to his (annoying) insistence. She looked sideways at Luz’s chuckle. “Oh, like you’d be able to stand up to him when he’s like this, either!” She retorted.

Luz snorted. “Aw heck no! I am well aware when to fold’em, but that’s not gonna stop me from finding this hilarious!” She laughed, her stuff packed and ready for the trip. She calmed down, focusing. “But for real, this should be a good way to relax, you know?” She said, a soft smile on her face, one that Kind and Eda returned. A sharp knocking sounded at the door. “Coming!” Luz called out. As she walked up to the door, she was unsurprised to see Willow and Gus standing before her, wearing a mix of formal and casual clothing. What did surprise her, however, was their expressions. Willow had a look of stoic control, as if she was about to do something she really didn’t want to, but was resigned to it. Gus seemed to be oscillating between barely contained panic, and unfettered excitement.

“Uuuhh… you guys okay?” Luz hesitantly asked. She knew that they didn’t have the best history with Blight, but wasn’t this reaction a little much?

“Who, us!? Yeah! Totally fine! Definitely not panicking over going to the most popular girl in school’s Conjuring after she sent us a message over Penstagram and are totally freaking out over the idea of it being a horrible, awful, evil prank to humiliate and degrade us!! Nope, we are totally fine!” Gus rambled, eyes flicking around the area, visibly sweating. Luz cocked an eyebrow.

“Let’s just get this over with, can we?” Willow stoically stated, already moving to leave, and motioning for them to follow. Gus quickly followed suit. With a shrug, Luz gave one last wave goodbye to Eda and King, and followed them.

“The guard I acquired to supervise the safety of myself and my guests for the conjuring, along with the first of my guests, will be arriving shortly.” Amity informed her parents. Alador was still working on his latest Abomination experiment, almost obsessed with it ever since he had examined Willow’s from the incident as Amity thought of it. Her mother, Odalia, was frantically pacing, sipping at a cup of tea to try and settle her nerves. Amity admittedly derived some level of almost sadistic enjoyment from her mother’s current discomfort. For reasons unknown, Odalia had been in something of a tizzy all day, her normal paranoia kicked up a few notches.

“I don’t like it!” Odalia announced, stopping in front of Amity. “This entire venture is far too risky, with too little benefit! While a boost to public morale and that of the social links you’ve formed would most definitely be beneficial, we have no idea if those Oroboros Cravens would attempt to attack us! We ARE the Boiling Isles premiere source of Home Security equipment, after all!” She turned to Alador. “Is it too late to cancel?”

“I believe so.” Alador added his absent-minded consideration to the conversation. “If I recall correctly, the guests should all be currently in transit, and if Amity’s preparations are accurate, our first two guests and her mysterious guard should be arriving at any moment.” He concluded, never once glancing up from the Abomination before him, his arms buried deep in its inner workings.

“Curses!” Odalia bit out, glancing at the clock in frustration. Ultimately, she sighed. “Ugh, very well, I suppose this nonsensical event can continue.” Amity tacitly held her tongue on the fact that Odalia was the one who regularly encouraged her to hold them at all.

“Thank you, mother.” Amity said diplomatically. The doorbell screamed, signalling someone’s arrival. “I believe that would be my guard and two of the guests. Would you like to accompany me in greeting them?” She asked, internally begging for her mother not to, to make up some bull excuse about it being beneath her, that she had work to do, anything!

“Hmm, very well, I suppose.” Odalia replied, dashing Amity’s hopes. As the two walked toward the door, she once again internally begged, pleaded, for her mother not to make a scene, to just accept Amity’s decisions. Surprisingly, her hopes were answered! ...Though, the reason was in itself rather chilling.

Outside the door stood three figures, Willow, Augustus, and Luz, all ready for the night to begin. Seeing who was at the door, Amity expected a few different reactions from her mother: Shouting, summoning Abominations, derogatory remarks, and a few others. What she got was, in itself, surprising. A wide, intimately familiar smile appeared across Odalia’s face, the look she got when she made a highly advantageous deal. “Welcome, honored guests!” Odalia cried, ushering the bewildered group inside. “It is my pleasure, as Matriarch of the Blight Family, to welcome you to our humble home for my darling daughter’s Moonlight Conjuring!” Humble, right. Amity felt like scoffing at her mother’s hammy antics, but held her tongue, both to maintain her image, and to see why her mother was reacting as anticipated.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to be here, Miss Blight.” Luz cordially stated, a neutral look on her face.

“Oh, call me Odalia dear! You played quite the role in protecting my darling Mittens from harm!” She all but gushed, ruffling Amity’s hair, much to her frustration. She could see the three silently mouthing her nickname. Oh no. Odalia’s eyes sharpened, focusing on Luz’s face. “Judging by your presence here, I believe it’s safe to assume you are the guard my daughter acquired, is it not?”

“Uh, yeah.” Luz nodded, a little baffled at Odalia’s antics at the moment. “Pardon my confusion, but you are taking me being here a lot better than I expected.”

“Hmm? Oh, you mean about your association with those ruffians, don’t you?” Odalia rhetorically stated, chuckling lightly. “My dear, you swore an Unbreakable Vow on a live broadcast, someone would have to be a fool to find you suspect after that, you even pledged to fight against Oroboros while under it for Titan’s sake! No, you being here eliminates most of my worries about how this night will turn out.” She said, a pleased look on her face.

“Oh! Well, thank you, ma’am.” Luz said, a faint blush on her face at the praise. Amity resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow. While that was certainly a revelation as to her mother’s motives, in part, it still didn’t answer the biggest question as to why she hasn’t blown her top.

“And who might you be?” Odalia cordially stated, turning to Augustus.

“OH, uh, Augustus Porter, Miss Odalia Blight, Ma’am!! I’m in the same year as your daughter, in the Illusion Track at Hexside!” He quickly stated, standing stock still in nervousness. Amity almost face-palmed at his antics. “Most people call me Gus.” He rapidly added.

“Hmm, Gus Porter, son of Perry Porter, conductor of the interview and one of the Boiling Isles most acclaimed reporters, holding a great deal of public sway due to his accuracy, honesty, and minimal bias in his field.” Odalia rattled off, as if by memory. Amity assumed it was, as her mother did enjoy memorizing details of people with influence, even if only peripherally, like Mr. Porter. “Going by your age, I find it intriguing that you’re in the same year as my daughter. Did you skip a grade?” She mused.

“Uh, two actually.” Gus said, bashfully rubbing his shoulder.

“Well, well, well! Aren’t you the accomplished little intellectual!” She said enthusiastically. “My boy, if you ever desire, I believe I could find you quite a lucrative position at Blight Industries upon your graduation.” She said, pulling out one of her business cards, handing it to the now star-struck boy.

“Oh, wow! Uh, thank you?” He said, both excited and confused at the offer, tucking the card into his pocket.

“Oh, think nothing of it.” Odalia dismissed, turning to Willow, an assessing look in her eyes. “And you?”

“Willow Park, ma’am.” Willow said, her face a careful mask of iron-clad politeness.

“Willow Park, recent transfer to Hexside’s Plant Track, considered their rising star, and possessing a level of power and skill typically found only in adults.” Odalia once again rattled off, a calculating look in her eyes. “Miss Park, I daresay I owe you an apology for my daughter’s conduct.” Amity and Willow both went very still at that, certain theories sliding into place in both their minds.

“While I am unaware as to why, exactly, my daughter felt the need to distract herself with something as gauche as bullying of all things, I am pleased to inform you that she was appropriately reprimanded for her conduct.” Odalia continued, blissfully unaware of the thoughts raging through the minds of the two involved. “If you ever feel the need for further discussion on this topic, or if my daughter slips back into such… unsavory habits, feel free to contact me. But for the moment, I must bid the three of you farewell.” And with that, she turned on her heel, swiftly making her way back to her husband, hoping he was either finished… or hadn’t killed himself.

Amity felt sick. Her mind could only find one simple conclusion as to why, exactly, that had occurred, and by the look of mixed disgust and near-volcanic rage on Willow’s face, she had reached it as well. “She didn’t even remember me.” Willow breathed out, burning heat coloring her voice. “She didn’t even know who I was!”

Unbeknownst to the group, a figure was watching from the shadows outside, a group arrayed protectively around her. “I never expected to see you here, LuLu.” A childish voice giggled, a small pointed object glinting in their hands.

[opheliacassiopea]

CHAPTER 5.

TW: Mention of a weapon, some violence/small fight, mature language, alcohol consumption.

Slowing your sprint ever so slightly as you turn sharply down a side street, you speak into your comms “headed into the small path through to the main road on Maryland Drive. Morgan, Hotch be ready at your end if I lose him” you tell the team hurriedly as you weave through the small path, gaining speed as you get closer and closer to the unsub. Knowing you have more chance of losing him once he reaches the bigger side of the neighbourhood, you were determined to end the chase. Rounding the corner at the end of the path, you force yourself to turn right at what felt like an inhuman speed, after continuing to sprint for another twenty seconds and holstering your weapon, you throw yourself forward tackling the unsub to the ground, but not before receiving an almighty elbow to the right side of your face. 

“Motherfucker” you exclaim, you’d already been running for five minutes and you knew for a fact that you now had a cut to your face. Through your comms you can hear the team checking in with you from their positions and you know they’re already making their way to you.

Slamming him down even further into the pavement, you reach for your cuffs and click them around his wrists as you read him his rights. Hauling him up from the ground, you pass him to one of the officers, this case was local so you recognized the assisting officers “thanks, Hank” you acknowledged him, flashing him a small smile as he passed on his way to the squad car.

“No problem Paisley, looks like he got you good there” he replies nodding toward your cheek. You begin to make your way down the street to where Prentiss, Rossi and Reid are standing talking to some local officers, more than likely informing them that the arrest had been made 

and you begin to wonder if the bruise on your cheek had started to become visible.

Reid is the first one to notice your presence and confirms your suspicions about the bruise on your face, asking “did you know that bruises are typically caused by blood from the capillaries leaking into the soft tissue under your skin, causing discoloration?” you did know this, it was mandatory for anybody in the FBI to take part in first aid and lifesaving courses, but you didn’t interrupt, letting him continue “you should put some ice on that, it will limit the bleeding under the skin” he finishes.

Nodding at him, you reply “I will Spence, I’ve definitely had worse, it’s really nothing, I promise” this seems to ease his worries as you see him visibly relax. The others turn toward you and you brush away their concerns before they’ve even left their mouths. Before they have a chance to respond, you hear Hotch’s voice behind you. Turning around to face him and you can already see he’s annoyed about something, his clenched jaw giving him away instantly and just behind him you can see Morgan on the phone, presumably informing the precinct that the unsub was on his way to them and beyond that JJ speaks to a small crowd of people you assume to be reporters and journalists.

Hotch’s tone is clipped as he speaks “I appreciate all your work on this. Selwyn get that checked out by a paramedic, now” he instructs, barely looking in your direction, seemingly focusing on something behind you. Confusion is written across your face. You’d dealt with injuries far worse than this before and you knew you’d be absolutely fine and so did he, why was he insisting on a check up?

“Hotch there’s no need, it’s nothi-” you begin to reply, tone matching his. 

He cuts you off “I said, get it checked out, Selwyn. Do I make myself clear, or do you need it to be an order?” taking note of his icy tone, you knew it was best not to argue a second time. 

Moving toward the medics, you let your thoughts consume you as you hop onto the back of the ambulance. Hotch’s mood swings weren’t unnoticed by the team, or anybody that came into contact with him if you were being perfectly honest and you nearly laughed, the famous SSA Aaron Hotchner, head of the BAU could often have worse mood swings than a hormonal teenager. 

Just as the paramedic finishes cleaning the small cut on your face and giving you the once over, you see Hotch approaching and you wonder if you’re in for some sort of reprimand about your comments or your conduct in the field, your field conduct was nothing short of perfect, but you never knew where you stood with Hotch sometimes and this was one of those times. 

Deciding to get the first word in you speak up “I’m fine, before you ask” your tone wasn’t as cold with him anymore, the safety of the team was paramount to him and you knew that, you just didn’t like to be babied, especially by him. 

He’s silent for a minute as he watches you shrug off your bulletproof vest. “I’m aware of that. I just wanted to remind you that the file for this case needs to be on my desk before the end of the day, since you made the arrest” he tells you, his tone matching your own.

Suppressing the urge to comment on the fact that you weren’t a trainee as the detective from the last case had assumed, you opted for a more tactical response, “I’m aware of that, but yes, you’ll have it by the end of the day”. Clearly he was having one of his infamous mood swings, not even twenty four hours ago he sat at your desk bringing you snacks and making sexual innuendos and now it was strictly business.

Standing up from the steps at the back of the ambulance, you move to walk past him back toward the SUV ready to get back to the office and fill out the paperwork that Hotch found himself in such a dire need for. Taking you by surprise, he catches your arm, pulling you closer, his voice steady and slow as he speaks in a hushed tone, but you can detect a slight smirk to it and it makes your hair stand on end. “It's good to see you following my orders, Paisley” letting go of your arm, he moves aside, gesturing for you to walk ahead. 

What the fuck was that?

Back at the office, you made a start on the case file, filling out the arrest report making sure everything was perfect. Normally you didn’t bother taking such a significant amount of time over the smallest details, but you didn’t want to be stuck on Hotch’s bad side for any longer than you needed to be. Everybody seemed in good spirits, JJ had pulled up a spare desk, sitting with the rest of you as the day went on and you’d managed to forget about Hotch’s hot and cold behaviour for long enough to join in with the light-hearted conversation amongst the team. 

Currently you were all placing bets on how many phone numbers Morgan would come away from the bar with that evening at Riley’s. JJ placed her bet at ten, whereas Emily had said fifteen and you had agreed, he was a smooth talker at the best of times and you knew he could be an intense flirt, and you’d be a fool to deny that he wasn’t attractive. Reid had been slightly more optimistic with his bet and said twenty.  

“Are you tryna make this a challenge for me, Boy Wonder?” Morgan jokes, standing up from his desk as he picks up his mug and leans over to collect yours before he makes more drinks. 

Reaching over to hand him his mug, Reid rebuttals instantly “I am, it’s impossible, you’re good but you’re not that good, come on Morgan” and you can’t help but laugh.

“Yeah Derek, you’re losing your touch; that woman from the diner last week never called you back” Emily chimes in, her eyes bright as JJ continues, 

“Kevin from law has the hots for Garcia from what I’ve heard, better hope he doesn’t steal your favourite technical analyst from you” she tells him as he retreats to the kitchen. Upon his return, Garcia plonks herself at the empty chair next to Morgan’s desk, winking at you and Reid before she turns to Morgan and continues,

“That guy from the law department asked me out you know” she casually tells Morgan who almost spits out his coffee as he takes in the new information Garcia had revealed to him, but she puts him out of his misery before he can get any words out. “Relax, I’m joking, you know I only have eyes for one FBI agent in particular, my gorgeousness”. The look on Morgan’s face is priceless as he realises the set up and Emily is the first to break into laughter, shortly followed by the rest of you as Morgan simply scoffs and shakes his head at the childish antics.

Unbeknownst to the six of you, the two older members of the team stand watching from afar.

“They’re a good bunch Aaron, you know that dont you?” Rossi asks, looking toward Hotch whose eyes don’t stray from the scene unfolding down in the bullpen. 

“Yeah, I know that” he tells his closest friend as his eyes linger on you as he watches you talking animatedly, hands moving quickly back and forth as you recount a story.

The rest of the day passes in what felt like no time at all and you soon find yourself back at your apartment fixing yourself a quick, but fairly decent sized meal before jumping in the shower. As the water washes over you, so does the realisation that you’ve worked for the FBI, in arguably one of the most prestigious units across the bureau for an entire year. Some cases made you want to throw it all away, but in reality you loved it, you loved your team, they were your family above all else.

 Towelling yourself off and slipping into your outfit of choice for that evening, you begin to get ready. Not wanting anything too wild, you don’t stray far from your usual everyday makeup look, just adding some eyeshadow to compliment your outfit and bring out your eyes. Stuffing the necessities into a small bag and slipping into some shoes and a jacket that would match your outfit, you were ready to go. Walking into the crowded bar, you heard the team before you saw them, Penelope’s laugh was distinguishable in absolutely any setting, you smiled to yourself before walking over to them. Stating your apologies for being late as your greeting, you shrug off your jacket. Since tonight had been deemed ‘your night’ you knew you’d get away with breaking the 7pm sharp, no exceptions rule. “I’m five minutes late I know, sorry sorry” 

Derek rises to greet you “I’d forgotten how good you look outside of work, damn pretty girl, those tattoo’s look just about perfect on you” he compliments you, embracing you in a hug and spinning you in a circle. You had plenty of tattoos and you loved showing them off, half of your left arm was covered with sketches of Greek Gods and Goddesses, something that thoroughly interested you in your spare time, so much so that you had wanted it tattooed. Delicate flowers graced your collarbones, there was no particular reason for these, you just liked the simplicity, and finally your right lower leg was covered in artistic looking faces, made from small and simple linework. There were a few others that weren’t visible through your outfit of a spaghetti strap white cami top and cropped blue mom jeans which you had paired with thin black strappy heels and a slightly oversized black leather jacket.

“Alright stop hogging her, let the rest of us say hello, I want to see my darling Paisley” Penelope scolds him as she pulls you in for a hug. Emily, JJ and Spencer stifle their laughs at the sudden bombardment of extravagant greetings.

Dave interjects, sending you a wink as he speaks “Stop manhandling her and get the poor woman a drink”.

You send an appreciative smile over to him, choosing to address him with the use of the Italian word for uncle “thanks, Zio” the nickname was something that seemingly came out of nowhere, but it suited him nonetheless and had become a joke between the two of you. 

Seating yourself down next to Emily, Hotch slides a glass over to you from the other side of the table. “Gin and tonic with a splash of lime, slice of lemon and ice?” he asks you, knowing full well that he’s correct. 

Leaning forward you take the glass out of his hands, fingers brushing ever so slightly as you thank him “looks like you haven’t lost your touch after all” you rebuke, raising your drink and taking a sip. 

“Enough of that enough of that, let’s get to celebrating properly” Penelope exclaims as she motions to the bartender for a tray of tequila shots, knowing it’s your favourite and coincidentally, the only shot that Reid likes. They soon arrive and they’re all gone just as quickly, Hotch and Rossi knocking them back with no complaints. Penelope clears her throat and behinds to speak again “Today marks one year since Miss Paisley joined our team and each day she makes my day brighter when she leaves her little handwritten poems on my desk, I’m so glad you joined our team, Parsley”. Her words go straight to your heart and you don’t even have it in you to call her out on the use of the nickname you hate so much.

Following Penelope’s lead, Derek turns to you and continues the sentiments, starting with the nickname he’d given you not long into your start at the unit. “Lee, even if your annoying ass constantly gives me grief, I’m proud of you, I couldn’t ask for a better partner and I want you to know that.” 

Reid raises his glass toward you “ It’s been one year since you started reciting the Harry Potter books to me after a hard case; that Gryffindor courage and selfless attitude of yours matches my Ravenclaw mind and I can’t wait for you to finally get your doctorate.” 

Hearing the sentimental statements from the team makes you even more grateful for the family you had gained over the past year and you have to fight to keep your emotions under control.

Dave is the one to begin the toast, raising his glass as he addresses you “Paisley Selwyn, congratulations on one year at the BAU. Happy anniversary”. All eight glasses meet in the middle and the team echoes his statement and as you glance round the table at your family, Hotch gives you a subtle wink and you simply smirk in return. He looks good tonight in a simple navy shirt, and you couldn’t help but wonder what he looked like beneath it.

“I’m gonna start crying if you guys carry on” you tell the group half jokingly “when I first joined I didn’t think it was possible for a team to be so united and it’s only recently that I’ve figured it out what makes it possible. It’s because we’re family and each and every day, I count myself lucky that I’m a part of that”.

Thirty minutes and another drink later, all sentimental gestures were thrown out the window as you find yourself being dragged to the small dance floor by Emily and JJ, who were no doubt following Penelope and Derek’s lead. Time slips away from you as you begin to dance with your friends, swaying to the beat of the music as you move. Before making your way back to the table, you stop at the bar, grabbing drinks for Spence, Dave, Hotch and one for yourself. 

Sliding into the seat opposite Hotch, you distribute the drinks as Spencer turns to you “enjoying the celebrations I see?” he asks and you know he’s genuinely asking you, rather than joking like other members of the team might. 

Responding with a wide smile you tell him, “that I am my good Dr Reid, that I am” 

“Did you guys know that the word ‘celebrate’ comes from the Latin celebrat- ‘celebrated’, from the verb celebrare, ‘frequented or honoured’” leaning forward as he asks, knocking a drink over in his excitement. 

“Kid, of course she knows, language is her thing” Dave chuckles as he pats Spencer’s shoulders. “Now how about the game of darts I promised I’d beat you at?” and you silently thank him for saving you a lecture, you loved Spencer’s rants, but a sports bar on a Friday evening wasn’t really the place for an academic debate. 

This leaves just you and Hotch at the table and he’s the one to speak up first and you smile as he does “who do you think will win? My bets are on Dave if I’m being honest” he states, his tone light-hearted. It’s nice to see him relax, casual looks good on him. 

You nod in agreement “Dave definitely, years of experience and all that” you joke, you’d seen him playing enough times to notice how good he was and you weren’t surprised. 

“What you said before, about the team, I really appreciated it, I’m glad you feel at home with us” he tells you as he looks up from his almost empty glass as he swirls it on the table. 

You lean forwards, smirk dancing on your lips, “so at home in fact, that I’ve figured out your tell” you inform him, your voice light, yet teasing. 

His eyes meet yours as he too leans forward “I wouldn’t have expected anything else” he pauses for a second before asking “and what have you worked out exactly?” he asks and you find yourself drinking in his features as he unknowingly does the same to you; staring into your bright blue eyes, and admiring the way the light highlights your tattoos perfectly.

“I’ve worked out that you clench your jaw when you’re angry, you can’t fly off the handle because you’re unit chief and you need to be seen as in control so you hold your tongue, not to mention that you furrow your eyebrows at least fifty percent of the time. When you’re stressed you run your hands through your hair, though you tend to pinch the bridge of your nose more because you think it’s less of a giveaway.” you pause for a second and then reach over the table and take one of his hands in yours. “And arguably your biggest tell of all is what you do with your hands. You rub the pad of your thumb over your middle and index fingers either back and forth, or in circles, discreetly of course, but it’s still a giveaway and I noticed you were doing it a second ago so I can't help but think you’re either stressed, or nervous about something. How’d I do, Sir?” you ask him as you sit back in your seat, smirk very apparent on your face. 

The truth is, he was nervous. The way you make him feel makes him nervous he admits to himself. You’re fourteen years younger than him with a long career ahead of you, and he’s a newly divorced man, under no circumstance should he find himself drawn to you, and yet here he is. Here he is sat across from you when you look sinfully attractive, yet almost otherworldly, your beauty astonishes him and not just physically, your soul, your kind and open nature, always willing to learn and do more.  Instead of saying this, he just smiles, a real genuine smile and lets out a laugh that is music to your ears. “You did good, you did good, Pais”.

From the corner of your eye, you can see the rest of the team making their way back over to the table with more drinks in hand and you wave them over excitedly and you squeeze Hotch’s hand before they reach you. Over many more drinks, the eight of you look back on old times, retelling stories until early hours of the morning.

A/N: 5 chapters into this fic already!! Really enjoyed writing this chapter, feel like there were some good moments between Hotch and Paisley and the team in general. Let me know what you think!🖤

[hobiwonder]

Gym | (m)

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Smut, Businesswoman!reader, fratboy!jungkook. Older reader. Age difference. 

Warnings: Explicit Sex, foreplay. Balcony sex, cream pie, cum eating, dirty talk, unprotected sex. slight fluff if you squint. 

Words: 8.5k

Summary: Jungkook has a crush on you and has been watching you work out at his gym. One day you finally confront his obvious crush.

A/N: another shitty not-proofread smut coming right up lmao. this was supposed to be released near kook’s bday :/ but i got distracted and only wrote half. So just added smut and here ya go. not very good. I’ll read over it tomorrow. let me know what you think! i wrote this in an hour pls 4give wubfwbf.

(he really built like that huh?)

“Right, three more reps to go. Lift that perky ass of yours Y/N, a bit more – that’s it. Atta girl. Hold it.”

You wish Seulgi would shut the fuck up. Also not shut the fuck up because your personal trainer – and best friend - could work you out so much better than when you did it all on your own. The adjectives she used to describe your firming body parts though, were exceeding by the day as she saw the progress you had made because of her recommended workouts. And she wore it like a badge of honour every time you asked her to tone down her hooting and yelling when a certain position highlighted your toned bottom or thighs. It always brought more attention to your corner whenever she got particularly boisterous. Especially from the male patrons who littered the gym either flexing or pretending to lift more than they actually can whenever Seulgi was on a shift with another female client.

“Tuck your tummy in Y/N, c’mon!” You tighten your abdominal muscles and lift up your body as much as you can, a groan leaving your lips at the building burn you felt deep in your core muscles. In your absentmindedness you’d apparently been slackening your posture in the current plank you were doing.

“I’m trying,” You groaned once again through your teeth at the effort it took you to keep your body completely flat as a table top and hovering above the ground. It was getting easier to do planks because you were a regular gym goer and your stamina was in a far better shape than you had ever imagined before.

“Keep taking deep breaths to fuel you up. You don’t want to look like a blown up gold fish when lover boy is looking at you now, do you?”

Ah, there it was. The playfulness to her voice had you glancing your head up to look in the mirror mounted on the wall right across from you, confirming your suspicion that a certain peach haired boy was watching your ass perked up high in the air as he pretended to do pull ups. How you know he’s pretending you ask? This was his usual routine, either be suspended mid-air – god, how much power did his muscles hold? – pretending to be between a pull-up or be holding a weight – again, how? – above his head while he watched you work out, slack jawed. Sometimes the boy was almost visibly drooling whenever you wore your tight workout shorts and a sports bra to gym and did your daily squats.

It was flattering, really. A hot, twenty-something, fit guy – not forgetting, hot as hell – was so transfixed on watching you work out that he forgot how obvious he looked. Seulgi had told you his name, Jungkook, as she worked with him as his personal trainer for a trial period that the gym’s membership included. Cute name, you’d thought the first time you’d caught him staring at you running on one of the treadmills. Though of course, sweet Jungkook had no idea that you’d actually caught him since he no doubt thought that he had successfully evaded your gaze before you caught on. This continued on for the next month and at first you felt a bit annoyed that he wouldn’t just come up and say something to you. You almost considered approaching him to ask if he needed something but the more time went on, you realised that he was just shy. He never took off his shirt like the other men who loved to flash and flex their pecs and abs not-so-subtly, even if he was dripping with sweat after his workouts. That was your favourite actually; When he dripped with sweat and his white t-shirts clung to his sculpted torso so tantalisingly. It was honestly fascinating how much his face and his demeanour contradicted his body.

He looked like a walking sin and yet whenever you rounded the corner to the locker rooms, he would start walking the other way. Why was he so shy around you? You’d seen him walk past girls closer to his own age with no problem, you swear you even saw a little smirk on his face whenever he knew they were watching him lift 50kg weights like it was fairy floss. How did he keep his face from contorting in ugly formations, yet, have an attractive smirk on his face? Will always be a mystery to you.

“He’s still looking?”

“Yup, though he’s moved on sit ups now. Damn, the kid’s got it bad for you. Should go talk to him.”

“Shut up it’s just a crush. He’ll probably pee his pants if I make direct eye contact.” Seulgi is scoffing and tapping you with her foot to indicate your planks are over after the excruciating 3 reps. Getting on your hands and knees you try to catch your breath before sitting back on the workout mat as Seulgi hands you a water bottle.

“Won’t hurt you. You’re hot as fuck and he obviously wants to bone you.” You scrunch your nose in thought, deliberating if you should finally do something about his staring but no approaching.

“Of course he does,” you say with a roll of your eyes as you walk towards the treadmills and setting your normal speed before starting your run, “I’m probably his older woman fantasy that he jerked off to as a teenager.” This time, Seulgi scoffs.

“Bitch you’re not that old. He’s hot, shy and clearly your type. Maybe go teach him a few life lessons, he can learn a lot from you.” Her eyebrows are shooting up and down as she suggestively licks her lips and you’re shaking your head at her wildly inappropriate remarks but consider them anyway.

“Since when is shy my type? The hell?”

“Since you only seem to notice him despite all these manscaping Gregs and Toms pretty much ready to whip out their dicks for you.”

“…Okay. Fair enough.” It was true, you guessed. The gym didn’t lack in the department of hot guys you could take your pick from to take home for the night but somehow, your mind always came back to Jungkook and his shy bunny smile whenever he spoke to Seulgi or his – god - toned abs and thick thighs that almost made your mouth water a bit too much.  No harm in playing a little right?

A smack to your ass brings you back. “Twenty more minutes on that and you’re done babe.” She’s walking away, sashaying her hips away to her next client as men stare at her shapely bottom walking away. You can’t help the smirk on your face as you shake your head at her again. She knew what she did to every man in this gym and she loved it and you loved the unrestricted self-confidence your best friend possessed. You sneaked a glance at Jungkook again and as expected, he diverts his gaze fast like he hadn’t just been staring at your ass again. Just as you’re finishing up your run, your alarm goes off indicating you have work in thirty minutes and a wave of meetings to attend.

Seducing bunny boy would have to wait.

It was a week after your chat with Seulgi about finally making the first move as your secret admirer didn’t seem to have any plans – or had the guts to, it seemed – to approach you first. Same rehearsed routine; putting your gym bag in your locker before you start with your abdominal work outs near the front of the gym whereas Jungkook, already being there, working out a few feet behind you. No doubt his genius plan to watch you without getting caught or interrupted. Today, you’re on your own as Seulgi had taken the day off to run a group fitness class instead. Jungkook was a slave to his habits it seemed since you manage to catch the last few seconds of his face that had been slack jawed, mid pull-up with his doe eyes watching you work out and break a sweat in your skimpy workout clothes that you had to wear today, having forgotten to wash your usual gear the night before.

Today, instead of going for your usual 4 mile run, you cut it short halfway, hopping off the treadmill when Jungkook isn’t watching you – shockingly. Walking out towards the bathrooms, you quickly look in the mirror and check your appearance. You wanted to look appropriately flushed and not a – as Seulgi so gracefully put – a blown up gold fish. Taking a sniff to make sure no unpleasant odours are being exuded, you walk out of the bathrooms and out to the main floor. Spotting Jungkook looking around nonchalantly as he takes place on the gym floor to start his sit -ups, you decide that this is the perfect opportunity to burst his bubble. You almost stop to watch his cute face contort in confusion as he attempts to crane his neck to look for you no doubt, cheeks hollowing as he bites the inside of them.

The gym is fairly vacant today as you make sure no one is around to witness what’s about to happen since you didn’t want to embarrass the poor kid. Just play a little. You choose the moment when he’s laying back down on the mat, to loom over his figure, hands on your hips and eyes square on his face so when he sits up again, he is faced with your toned thighs right in front of him. The whole situation is so bizarre to you – and quite hilarious considering you could literally see the wheels turning in his head. His face is slack-jawed again as his eyes slowly travel up to your face. You cock up an eyebrow in question.

“H-Hi?” He gulps and continues his sit-ups but much more hesitantly this time, eyes avoiding yours from direct contact. You never expected his voice to be this raspy, it sends a delicious shiver down your body and you can almost imagine how he’d sound in a certain uncompromising position. God bless morning workouts. Twirling a stray strand for good measure, you continue to stare as he increasingly and visibly starts to sweat rather profusely, clearly embarrassed.

“Didn’t your mother teach you it’s not polite to stare?”

“Oh, um… Sorry! I-I wasn’t-” His face is beet red and even his stuttering is adorable to your ears. Damn it.

“So,” You crouch down, leaning forwards slightly to give him an eyeful of your chest, “You weren’t looking at me?” He’s sitting up now, looking like a deer caught in the headlights contemplating his fight or flight instincts.

“I-I, well…Y-You see,” His eyes are darting everywhere and he is twiddling his thumbs in this adorable way that reminds you of your baby niece when she’s trying to convince you that an extra block of chocolate is approved by her mum just before bedtime. Then, he’s closing his eyes shut, taking in a deep breath before he says his next words in a rush that you almost don’t make out what he’s said.

“You’resohotpleasegooutwithme.”

“Huh?” Your eyebrows are furrowing in amusement and Jungkook is opening eyes to watch your reaction.

“N-Nothing.” He’s scratching the hair at his nape nervously as he continues to avoid your gaze. You on the other hand, want to take this up a notch, loving every second of his cheeks that are tinged pink, hair a mess from his hands and shirt sticking to his chest like it usually does. He smells fresh and his skin glows. Looking around the mostly empty gym this early in the morning, you widen your stance and then squat down until you are straddling Jungkook, not quite sitting in his lap and more so just sitting up on your knees, eye to eye. You place your left hand on his shoulder as the right one trails down his clavicles to his hard pecs, slowly, searing his skin as he watches your every movement.

“So, you don’t want to take me out?” He gulps again as he rests back on his hands, eyes levelling with your chest before he hurriedly brings them up to your face again when you tilt his chin up. He flushes an even lovelier shade of red, knowing he’s been caught once more, gawking at your chest.

“Um… I do?” It comes out as a question rather than the cool persona Jungkook had been trying to stipulate and redeem his earlier outburst.

“You do?” Cocking an eyebrow in mock amusement, you lean forward for extra effect before you whisper close to his face that is glistening in perspiration, “Or you just want to fuck me?”

Jungkook at this point almost resembles Bambi. His wide button eyes that are almost childlike, peering at you most likely scandalised at your brusqueness. How is he acting this shocked when he was practically undressing you with his eyes and not with subtlety either. Young men were rather unaware sometimes. But it’s okay because at least this one is cute.

“I don’t.” When your eyebrows shoot up again at his blatant lie he quickly adds on, “I-I mean I do but,” he gulps, “I also want to t-take you on a date? If you would… still want to.”

It’s hard to imagine that someone possessing physical features much like a Greek god, all chiselled and refined, would have the social dexterity of a sweet, shy boy-next-door. Maybe that’s what made him more endearing to you.

“Good. The eye-fucking was really starting to frustrate me.” He opens his mouth again, no doubt to apologise but you lift a finger to his lips, effectively quieting him, “Give me your phone.”

It takes him a few seconds to get moving but eventually he’s reaching over to his bicep where the phone is strapped on, fumbling with it for s few seconds before handing it to you. All the while you watch on with amusement as his hand shakes a little when he holds out his phone for you. As the screen lights up on his phone, his face goes red again when you see his wallpaper is a woman in a bikini posing next to a sports car – how typical. At first, the image is a reminder of how young Jungkook is – having a half-naked girl as his wallpaper but then Seulgi’s words are ringing in your mind again that he’s pretty much smitten with you or at least the way you look. But still, you can’t deny that you end up comparing the much younger woman with her flawless body with your own. Chuckling, you just send him a grin as you type in your number, saving it with your name and sending yourself a text.

“I’ll text you when I’m free.” He nods, taking his phone back.

“Y-Yeah, sure, all good no prob-”

Leaning in, you leave a chaste kiss on his cheek before getting up and making your way back to the locker room – sashaying your hips for extra effect knowing that Jungkook is probably still watching with his mouth wide open.

Gosh, he was cute.

-      First date

The first time you text Jungkook is five days later. In your pursuit of ‘seducing’ the adorable bunny boy, you’d kind of forgotten the upcoming meetings and stacks of paperwork that awaited you due to your company’s new policy launches. Your position at work being one that required you to oversee a unit of employees, it didn’t take long for you to put the task of texting him on the back burner. Today however, you text Jungkook in your break, letting him know you’re available on Saturday.

[12:46 PM] You: Hey, I’m free tomorrow if you still want to take me out?

His reply comes almost instantly.

[12:46 PM] Jungkook: Hey! Yeah defs! Was beginning to think you were messing with me :/

[12:47 PM] You: Who says I’m still not?

[12:47 PM] Jungkook: oh

It’s hard to not tease him when he makes it so easy to. Nevertheless, you don’t want to sound actually mean so you ease his worries.

[12:48 PM] You: Relax, just kidding :) want to meet at the froyo place near the gym?

[12:48 PM] Jungkook: you’re mean :(

[12:48 PM] Jungkook: but I still wanna go out with you so I guess I’m a masochist.

A scoff leaves your lips at his unexpected reply. Though it’s not too hard to imagine him as a masochist.

[12:50 PM] You: Well, Mr Masochist, I’ll see you there at 5.

[12:51 PM] Jungkook: See you then :)

“For fuck’s sake.” You’ve been cursing under your breath for the past 5 minutes, trying to find a parking spot. Saturdays are always crowded around this area as it’s located just a few miles away from the CBD, lined with cafes, restaurants and high-end fashion stores. Though you’d hoped that it was late enough for most of the families that usually strewed the streets to have moved on to the playgrounds or other areas so you could easily park your car. But to no avail, you pull out of the underground parking area towards a street few blocks down from the froyo place you were supposed to meet Jungkook at. Walking up the topography of hilly roads lined with Victorian style buildings wasn’t so bad. You always enjoyed walking to work as you didn’t live too far off from your building. It was a move of convenience a few weeks ago. You still hadn’t gotten around to completely unpack as you were thrown right into work that required your attention more than to decorate your apartment to make it a bit more informal.

Someday you’ll open those boxes.

The little bell above the door twinkles pleasantly as you enter the café, immediately spotting Jungkook’s mop of peachy hair sitting in a booth farther down, near the open windows at the back. It was a discreet spot that allowed you to survey the scenery outside and people go by but kept you isolated enough from the rest of the crowd in the busy little café.

It was a distinctively very Jungkook choice.

He’s on his phone when you slip in the booth, prompting his attention towards you as he stares up wide-eyed before breaking in to a nervous grin.

“Hey! W-What’s up? You look amazing.” He winces at his own greeting and you can’t help but let out a laugh at his nervous rambling.

“Nothing much and thanks bro. You look pretty good too.” You hold out your fist at him which he bumps with his own as his lips stretch into a more comfortable smile at your light-hearted reply.

“Sorry, I panicked. You r-really do look amazing.” His eyes are scanning you from top to bottom as he takes the corner of his bottom lip between his teeth. Somehow, he doesn’t look sleazy as he blatantly checks you out again. Instead, it’s almost as if he’s doing it subconsciously because he can’t help it and it sends a shiver down your spine that you thankfully conceal by rolling your shoulders back. Jungkook was great for your self-confidence, that’s for sure.

“Shall we go order?”

“Uhh I can go order for us both? You can save our spot.”

“Sure,” you’re taking out your wallet to get some cash, telling him what you want, “two scoops of Spanish caramel.” He waves his hands in dismissal at your card.

“Don’t worry about it,” he leans in as if about to let you in on a secret, “ I have connections here.” You lift your eyebrows, playing along as you nod. He walks away after sending you a wink to which you can’t help but grin. The date had barely begun but you were already immensely enjoying yourself. The café was nice and casual and not overly crowded that you two would barely be able to hear each other over people talking loudly or laughing like they usually tended to do. A couple of minutes later, Jungkook has returned with the desired flavours of each of your frozen yogurts as he settles in across from you.

“Thank you.” Your tone is light and you make sure to smile his way when he nervously apologises when his hand accidently touches yours while he hands you the dessert glass. Then, there is just some awkward silence as he takes spoonfuls of yogurt as his shiny, doe eyes flit across the café shyly. He’d been so confident before he’d left to get your desserts but not it was as if he was meeting you for the first time. His cheeks puffed every single time he took a bite and every single time – he put more than necessary on his spoon, making them swell up endearingly even more. He was too cute and you were finally realising you never asked him how old he was.

“Jungkook, how old are you?” Your eyebrow is cocked in question and he stalls for a few seconds as if you asked him about his most embarrassing memory from high school. Which doesn’t seem like too long ago to be honest. His body told a different story though so you had to be sure.

“Uh,” he scratches the back of his head nervously and you’re slightly scared now. He wasn’t 18 was he? That’s barely legal, fuck. “I just turned 21 a few months ago.”

Okay. So he was just legal but still considerably younger than you. Fucking hell. You were becoming That woman already.

“H-How old are you?” He asks after a few minutes when you’d been just quietly watching him eat but not really paying attention as the voices in your head kept telling you to leave this kid alone.

“Too old to be on a date with a 21 year old.” And it’s the first time he isn’t hesitating before acting and rolling his eyes as he leans back in the booth.

“You’re not even that old.” You smirk.

“So you do think I’m old.”

“I-I didn’t mean it like that.” He looks at you nervously, holding out his hand in front to defend himself and you can’t help the laugh that escapes you at his naïve and pure temperament – taking your teasing slightly too seriously.

“I’m just joking babe.” You curse yourself inside your head for letting the pet name escape. You were used to calling your younger colleagues – female, mind you – all sorts of pet names and Jungkook’s sweet face and even sweeter smile just had all the ridiculously cheesy nicknames coming to you at the speed of light. And the blush on his face as he bites his lip before looking away for a second and then returning his shy gaze to you with his sheepish smile.

“Your laugh is really… nice.” You laugh out loud again when he hesitates as if deciding what word to use in order to compliment you and you decide to tease him some more. He was way too nervous for no reason. He didn’t need to impress you anymore.

“That won’t be enough for you to get in my pants, I’m afraid.” You smirk, taking a purposely sensual bite of the froyo as his wide eyes and wide open mouth watch you. Gosh, he was too cute. You don’t think he even realises that he spaces out quite often and quite obviously in front of you. And that makes you feel somehow even more of an evil old witch feeling like you’re corrupting him when you’re just have dessert.

“I-I didn’t say it to- Oh. Damn. I fell for it again.” He realises halfway again when you start chuckling under your breath at his horrified expression while he only smiles, throwing his head back on the leather seat of the booth.

“I’m s-sorry,” you’re still giggling and your heart jumps when a pout is forming on his mouth, brows frowning at you, “it’s just too easy to tease you sweetheart.” Fuck, damnit. You needed to filter yourself a bit more because Jungkook’s cheeks are going bright red and he almost has his mouth hanging open again but this time with a slight smile on his facelike he can’t believe you said it again.

“I like it when you call me those names.” His voice is so soft that it’s almost a shy whisper but you just shut him down when you shrug.

“I call everyone that.”

“Well,” his tone defiant as he shrugs right back at you, “I still like it. You’re mean but I know you like me.” His tone is almost accusatory in the playful way kids tease each other on the playground and for the first time that day, you’re the one that’s pausing and watching him finish his yogurt with the proudest smile on his face while yours remains serious.

“You’ve got a mouth on you, don’t you?” He continues to smirk, shrugging once again as you just shake your head, finishing the delicious caramel treat while you two chat some more. You find out he lives at a frat – not surprising – studying film and photography – very surprising – and he just loves to work out. When you joke about him only coming to the gym to watch you, he’s back to being a stutter mess and it’s just hilarious and the cutest thing to watch him trip over his own words until he’s grumbling under his breath that you’re doing it on purpose. Which you don’t deny of course. He tells you about his hobbies that include singing, making beats, drawing and playing video games. Which you learn that he has an extensive collection of and it makes you feel wrong about being there with him even more. The boy talked about his PS4 like you talked about your PhD. Maybe even more passionate.

You seriously needed to not lead him on and just call it quits after tonight. He just looked too happy and cheery for you to cut it off in the middle and waltz out of there. So you opt for waiting until you’re about to leave and you decide you’ll apologize to him for taking up his time and let him know this will just have to end here. And it’s even worse when the waitress has come by to collect your empty glasses and makes a comment about how nice it is of him to take his older sister out for frozen yogurt. Fucking awkward is an understatement.

“That’s actually my girlfriend,” his tone is even, no sign of the flustered boy you’d witnessed just minutes before as he smiles proudly at the girl that’s closer to his age while she only looks at you both  sheepishly, mumbling a sorry before bolting away from your table.

“What did you do that for?”

“She clearly saw we were flirting.”

“You still didn’t have to say that Jungkook,” you don’t sound angry nor you actually are angry. But you certainly don’t want him thinking he needs to shoo away every other college aged kid who thinks you’re his older sister than someone he wants to bone. And you do too, damn it.

He doesn’t get to find out too much about you, only that you work a lot – are the commanding manager of about a unit for 100 people and his eyes go wide while he tells you how cool that is. He’s certainly good for your ego, that’s for sure. By the time you’re both done – it’s been four hours since you two met up and you didn’t even realise how quickly the time went. It’s dark outside now and he’s walking you to your car when you decide you’re going to have The talk with him. That sounds like you’re going to teach him about the birds and the bees. Eugh. Why did you feel so damn old already. You’re at your car and you turn around to let him know exactly where this would be going. Nowhere. But your stomach is dropping, though you don’t get much out.

“I had a lot of fun but-” Because Jungkook has gently pushed you against your own car, threading one hand in your hair while the other pulls you closer by the waist like he’s done this a thousand times and finally – his lips have taken yours between his. You don’t fight him. You don’t push him away or even make a noise of protest which is exactly the opposite of what you’d been constantly telling yourself the whole time you’d been on the date.

Instead, you kiss him back, opening your mouth when his tongue probes your mouth open, tangling his hot one with yours and you can’t help but moan at the delicious taste of the frozen yogurt as well as something that you can only guess is distinctively him. His head is tilting to the other side as he starts placing short, open mouthed kisses on your lips again and you’re getting carried away before you finally give him a push back.

“Jungkook,” your breathless call of his name only has him leaning down to bite your lip tantalisingly – nothing like the shy, meek boy you’d been teasing all day.

“I like you. And I know you like me. There is no point in you trying to get rid of me.”

Well, when he puts it like that. That was pretty much true. And what do you know? Your mind is hazy from his skilful tongue and the taste of his lips and all you find yourself doing is nodding. He kisses you softly goodbye once more, making you promise to set up a date again.

You drive home, not knowing how the fuck a 21 yr old bunny boy had just turned the whole night around and had you putty in his hands – very strong and vascular you might add.

___________________________________________________________________________

It’s been a week since ‘the date’ and you’ve texted him non-stop. Well, he’s texted you and you hadn’tnotreplied to be more technical. Okay. Fine. You wanted to text him. It was like you were in college all over again when Jungkook actually was in college. But gradually, you’d stopped texting him to set up more dates when once again he’d been mistaken for your son, yes that’s right; people had no fucking sense of age difference and literally thought he was your son. Maybe because his face made him look younger underneath all his baggy clothes? But whatever it was; it really pissed you off and was a bitter reminder of your age difference. You two had only been getting coffee on your break just outside your office and the stupid barista – of all people – say that how nice it was that mother and son were having a coffee date. Since you’d offered to pay, Jungkook had been standing outside and didn’t hear any of it but that was the day you’d decided you really needed to put an end to this. If normal lay people were thinking all sorts of relationships that were definitely not romantic between you two – you can only imagine what your colleagues would think at the charity gals and events you had to attend throughout the year if you did end up dating him.

You can’t believe you had to succumb to society’s standards of what’s right and what’s not and end a relationship that you could see yourself in for a while. Oh well. Too bad. It’s over.

“You’re serious? Are you mad?” Seulgi is almost yelling at you.

“It’s the right thing Seul. He’s too young for me. I’ve had enough of people thinking I’m either his baby sitter, sister or his fucking mother for god’s sake.”

“You’re still bloody mad for cutting him off because of that. You like, barely give a shit about anything others say. Why now?”

Good question. Why now?

Maybe you just didn’t think you were good enough for him. Whatever. You weren’t going that rabbit hole. Seulgi is still cursing you out when you leave her place and head back to yours. It had been two weeks since you last saw or texted Jungkook. You’d gradually pulled away and hoped that he’d get the hint. But of course, he’d started to send you shirtless selfies, tempting you in to texting him back and it was embarrassing how much will power it took to not text him back. But it had to be done.

But what you don’t expect is him standing outside the building of your penthouse, talking to the guard like they were old pals and you almost want to bolt and hide before he sees you. In fact you are about to do exactly that but the stupid guard spots you. You take that bad. Bernie was the sweetest man alive.

“Miss, y/n! This young man has been waiting for you a while.” You’re glaring at him while Jungkook only sends you a sheepish wave – looking slightly nervous. “You never have guests so I thought it best to wait for you to let him in.”

“Thank you very much Bernie.” You glare at Jungkook again before smiling at Bernie again, “You did the right thing. Goodnight!” You don’t even bother with Jungkook because you know he’s following after you like a lost puppy with his black hoodie and black sweats basically making him look like an oversized puppy.

“Y-Y/n, hey!” You’re getting on the elevator and Jungkook has just managed to slip in before the doors close.

“What are you doing here, Jungkook? Don’t you know this is stalking?” You’re only trying to scare him but he looks slightly tipsy when you take a look closer and smell the sweet smell of apple cider on him and he is looking way too smug for his own good at this moment.

“Nope. Not when you want me here.” You just roll your eyes, ignoring him as you walk out to your penthouse, Jungkook still following in but now he was ‘ooh’ and ‘aaah’ing at your place. It must definitely be an upgrade from the frat he lived in and you still can’t figure out why you let him in and didn’t kick him to the curb.

Setting down your stuff in your room and telling Jungkook to stay in the living room, you’re just about to take off your formal button up when you hear his deep voice that almost has you screaming.

“Jungkook! This is my room. I was about to change.” He only pouts, leaning against the door, looking too cute for his own good as your heart pounds. You missed his bunny smile, his dimples and the little scar on his cheek. Fuck you were in deep. Denial that is.

“Why have you been ignoring me? I’ve missed you.” Your heart clenches. No one has ever said those words to you except Seulgi. And you suddenly want to hear them again.

“I told you I was busy and that we.. we can’t continue. I’m sorry.” He tsks, stepping inside your room, lazily walking to your bed and plopping down right in front of you, thighs spread wide and you can’t help but notice how loose his pants were and how thick his thighs were…

“Can you say that without staring at my dick?” What? Your mouth is wide open at how bold he’s being. It has to be the alcohol but still – you can’t help the slight shiver of arousal with the way he says that, hands resting behind him – looking all too comfortable on your bed.

“You’re clearly drunk. Sleep it off on the couch or the guest bedroom and leave without telling me.” Maybe too harsh. But it needed to be said. Apparently he didn’t think so because just as you’re pulling on his hand to get him up – he’s instead pulled you forward in a harsh tug, right on top of him as your hair hangs on one side while his hands pulls your thighs on either side of him making you straddle him. Fucking hell. What was happening. Drunk Jungkook had moves.

“You want me. I want you. Why are you being difficult. Is it what all those people say or is it me?”

You hate yourself – or probably will in the morning but you say it anyway. Lying straight to his face. “It’s you. I want a man Jungkook. Not a boy.”

The dead silence in the room is making you increasingly nervous because like usual, you can’t read Jungkook at this moment. He’s simply staring at you. And when a minute passes and he’s still staring at you – you decide it’s probably a good time to get off of this compromising position and that’s the exact time Jungkook has you flipped over. A surprised gasp is falling from your lips when you’re the one laying on your soft bed while Jungkook towers over you. His musky scent surrounding you and you have to refrain from taking a deep breath. Fuck he even smelled good.

“Yeah? When did you actually get laid by a ‘man’ exactly?”

“T-That’s none of your conce- Oh!” His hand had slipped right up your skirt, palming roughly at your underwear that’s absolutely ruined and even you’re surprised how fast it got to the state it was in.

“Hm,” he continues to slowly circle your clit with the whole of his palm, over your panties and you’re falling back on the bed, moaning out because he was right. Again. Fuck. It had been a while since you’d slept with someone. “That’s what I thought,” he leans in close to your face, bypassing your lips to whisper in your ear, “noona.”

The moan you let out is of appreciation and it truly is embarrassing how fast you’ve given in, letting Jungkook have his way with you.

“Jungkook you need to g-go.” And the brat has the nerve to scoff while he looks down at his hand palming you, his other spreading your legs further as your skirt has now completely ridden up to your waist – your ruined panties in full sight and the sticky, erotic sounds are starting to surface as you leak more and more arousal.

“No. I need to remind you that I’m not a fucking teenager.” And just to test him, you stare him right in the eyes, almost challenging while still breathing harder with each roll of his palm on your clit.

“And how exactly are you going to do that, kid?”

You’re not sure where all this confidence has come from suddenly because he doesn’t look THAT tipsy anymore. Slightly flushed face but he seems perfectly steady. And then he leans down close to your face, breathing on your lips.

“By fucking the wit out of you, Noona.” His smile is saccharine sweet while you’re losing your mind now. The filthy, scandalous words from his usually innocent disposition have you feeling hot all over. Not to forget that he was built like a powerhouse. And the face of an angel and suddenly you have the urge to kiss him. And you do. Moaning in his mouth as he returns the passion with which you’d grappled his face and brought it down to yours.

You can’t remember how long you made out with him on your bed, skirt pushed high and his hand still working between your legs. But when you feel the familiar knot in your stomach, you’re pushing him back until he finally relents and breaks the connection between you two, sitting up. His hair is a mess, his lips are swollen and you know you don’t look any better.

Still the longer you stare at him, the more apprehensive you start to get. And Jungkook must have noticed because in a swift pull, he’s pulling off his hoodie, wearing nothing underneath and if you weren’t so tuned on, you’d roll your eyes that he’d thought he’d be getting lucky. Which he was but that wasn’t the point.

“Y/N.” You just stare at his defined abdominals, completely in awe at his youthful, tight body that has your mouth salivating. You weren’t so shabby yourself but nowhere near Jungkook. “I’m going to fuck you on this bed, on the kitchen counter, on the couch,” he looks out at your balcony before looking back at you again, “on your balcony and every other surface on this house until you admit you want me.”

You’re speechless and so fucking turned on and Jungkook doesn’t waist any time in ripping your shirt open as the buttons fly everywhere. Shimmying you out of your skirt and taking his own sweats off. You know you’re gawking. There was no other reaction that you could have. The boy was long, girthy and incredibly veiny that your pussy was clenching around nothing. All speech had left you and you were glad that Jungkook had taken the reigns when it was usually you. But maybe you felt something for him and maybe there was more involved than just a high libido and hormones that had you so stationary. Thankfully you don’t need to stand there and contemplate the deeper meaning of this rendezvous because Jungkook is pushing you on the bed, similar position to before but now no fabric between the both of you. His skin is laced with a healthy glow as he ogresses his warm body over yours and just the feeling of it has you moaning his name. He’s spread your legs wide, hitching them up his waist and with one thrust, he’s all the way in.

“Jungkook!” You’re so slick and wet that no lubricant is needed as his impressive girth stretches open your pussy until it stings deliciously – the pussy lips hugging his hardened cock, all puffy and swollen as he looks down at where both of you are connected. And as gone as you are, you can finally see the sweat dripping down his face and see that his resolve isn’t as steely as he’s trying to portray.

“I-I’m clean y/n. I just couldn’t wait I needed to be inside your cunt. Fuck.” His growl is sending electric shocks straight to your pussy and all you can do is nod and let him know it’s okay, you were on the pill. Maybe you were being a little too reckless but everything you did with Jungkook was reckless. So you guess this was inevitable.

“Ah.” The high pitched mewl leaving your lips is unavoidable when Jungkook finally starts to speed up, thrusting in and out in a steadily increasing rhythm. He’s utterly concentrated on your face that thrown back in unbelievable pleasure. Is this what you’d been missing out on? Because he’s fucking you so good that tears are welling up in your eyes with each thrust that pushes you slightly forward on the bed.

“Yeah? Like this?” your vigorous nodding is confirming the angle at which he’s snapping his hips in to you, his balls making an absence sound that even makes you bite your lip shyly every time they smacked against your ass.

“Yeah. F-Fuck. Jungkook, right t-there.” Jungkook had pushed a leg up high, almost making it stand up straight in the air as he ruts his hips in yours, the wet sounds of your continuous leaking only making a mess on your nice Egyptian cotton sheets but you couldn’t careless when you were getting the shit fucked out of you. God, bless young men and their stamina.

“Your cunt is so tight. Fuck, fuck. I’ve wanted to fuck you for so long noona. Your pussy is so wet. Just like I imagined.” You’re whimpering when his thumb has slipped down to rub circles in your clit as he continues to snap his hips forward in a punishing pace, now knowing that he’d thought about you like this before – unsurprisingly. But it’s the way he growls out his words like he’s mad that his fantasies weren’t just mere fantasies but actually a reality. You could relate. Jungkook was just as good as you thought he wouldn’t be. Caring, smart, sweet and now you knew, an excellent lover.

You can feel the familiar knot in your stomach tighten rapidly now that he’d started to strum your clit in time with his snapping hips. You’re crying out high pitched moans with each thrust and every so often, Jungkook spreads or pushes your legs up to target another area in your pussy you didn’t even know existed. And just in seconds, it’s like your orgasm sneaks up on you because suddenly you’re screaming out as a gush of wetness is releasing around Jungkook’s thrusting cock.

“Fuck yeah. Keep cumming on my cock like that noona. Fuck.” He’s cursing like a sailor and you know your pussy muscles clenching around his still hardened length must be torturous but you don’t have time to either recover or offer to help. Because Jungkook is picking you up – cock still inside you and all – and does what you only think he said for the imagination. He’s opening your balcony door, stepping outside and bracing you against the railing, your arms going around his neck on instinct when you look down at how high up you are.

“J-Jungkook.”

“I’ve got you Noona. I told you I’m going to fuck you everywhere in this house.” His eyes are tense and he looks like a man on mission. You can see the buildings opposite yours. They aren’t close enough that they would be able to see every explicit detail but they are far enough to spot two completely naked figures – doing something that you’ve only seen in movies. But all thought flies out of your head when Jungkook is starting to thrust inside you again.

“Oh… Jungkook. Y-You’re so,” you hiccup, “big… ah.” His speed had increased. He hadn’t cum and he was desperate for a release right now with the way he was rutting in to you. Your hands had automatically gone to either side of you to steady yourself by grabbing on to the railings as you’re pushed upwards and then down again and then upwards again with every thrust of his cock inside you. The thrill of knowing there could be people watching you right across the other residential building has you building back up to the brink again so fast and Jungkook’s dirty mouth isn’t helping.

“You like this don’t you, noona? The fact that anyone could be watching us. Watching me pound this big cock inside you. I just wish they could see the way your cunt stretches around me too.” He’s saying the last bit in a hiss as he looks down between the two of you and suddenly you want to make him cum; because you were about to.

“J-Jungkook, I’m going to cum again. P-Please.”

“Play with your tits. C’mon. I know you’re just as filthy as you pretend to not be. Come one. Give us a show.” Damn his tantalising mouth because despite the fear of letting go of one of the railings is there, you’re far too gone to even care about your safety as your hand is on your breasts, pinching, pulling and moaning loud like a porn star. All your inhibitions were gone and this was pure, raw, need. And Jungkook was more than happy to oblige.

“Yeah, just like that. Pinch your nipples noona. I wanna suck them so bad. So pink and pretty.” And just then he’s leaning forward and taking one nipple in his mouth, pace somehow increasing and after a few minutes of sounds of skin against skin, crying moans that have tears streaming down your face; Jungkook cums with a shout.

“Fuck, y/n! I’m cumming. I’m filling this pussy up. Oh god. You’re so tight.” He’s come so much that it’s spilled around his length that’s still thrusting inside you, a little slower but still milking out every last drop – an obscene squelching sound echoing with the amount of cum that was pushed back in and pulled back out with his cock. You’d cum with him inside you and were now just holding on to him before you passed out and possibly fell over the balcony and died.

After catching your breath, Jungkook slowly lets you down – your legs all but jelly.

“You okay?” He asks gently, holding on to your waist to steady your swaying body that had been almost fucked to death. Really. Bless Jungkook’s hips. The boy had more horsepower than actual horses probably did. You expect him to walk you inside the bedroom again but he gently pushes you back against the railing again.

“Jungkook, no more I’m sore,” you pat his cheek softly but he only smiles his bunny smile – contradicting the way he’d fucked you not even just minutes ago almost violently – before he’s sliding down on his knees. Gently he’s bringing one up and placing it on your shoulders and it hits you.

“I’m sensitive, Jungkook.” Though it wasn’t an excuse for him to stop. You just never had anyone want to go down on you after they’d finished inside and the fact that Jungkook wanted to makes you horny all over again. Your libido was turning in to one of a college boy too.

“I’m just cleaning you up. I bet we taste better than the froyo,” his cheesy wink has you pinching his cheek as a smirk finds its way to your face. Though it’s wiped pretty quickly when you feel his warm tongue part your ruined, puffy folds. Slowly licking away the white stickiness of your combined fluids. And it doesn’t help when he’s moaning in your pussy like he’s just had the best dessert ever and you’re back to holding the railing again to steady yourself.

“F-Fuck. Jungkook, you’re so good baby. So good.” His eyes are lighting up at your praise and he gets slightly too enthusiastic when he licks up your clit but apologises when you wince in sensitivity.

“Am I good boy noona? Cleaning you up.” Your hands are threading in his luscious hair as your head is thrown back – in absolute heaven despite the twitching in your body from being so sensitive.

“So good baby. You’re the best. Such a good boy. Noona’s special boy.” And when he’s made you cum one more time, you’re just about to fall and thankfully, he’s carrying you inside the bedroom. Finally, you’re both on the bed and he’s already made you the little spoon, cuddling you from behind. You both lay in comfortable silence. Like you’ve both done this a thousand times.

“I do really like you Y/N. Please like me back.” Your heart is about to burst at his meek voice that comes from behind you sometime in the night. The only light in the room is the moonlight shining in because you forgot to close the curtains. And you can’t help but tell all your negative thoughts to shut the fuck up, force yourself to face him before you place a sweet, chaste kiss on his lips.

“I do really like you. Please stay.”

And he just smiles his sleepy, dimply smile. Both of you content in this moment.

a/n: im going to YEET out of here. thanks for reading and let me know if you liked it?? kinda??  

[gauntie-o-dimm]

Vernon Roche | Experiment

Prompt: 'It surprises me you're into something so kinky.'

Along with a love potion request. The requester didn't specify what the potion was supposed to do, so I went with this.

Word count: 3600+ Warnings: Smut, swearing

The apple cake Ciri had brought me was awfully burned but I ate it nevertheless, albeit with small bites in an attempt to prevent myself from eating the blackened spots on the sides of it. She had tried her best, so I had thanked her with a genuine smile - it was the gesture that counts after all.

For my birthday, I had invited over a few old friends - Ciri, Yennefer and Dandelion, and we were currently sitting in a room that I rented at the local inn. After all, privacy was something I valued in times like these, and the camp of the Blue Stripes was far from respectable to get some peace and quiet. Whereas Ciri had gifted me a self-made cake and a book I've had my eyes on for a while, Dandelion had given me a pretty pair of earrings. But Yennefers present was one that I did not expect to receive;

'What is it?' I asked her curiously, twisting the unfamiliar bottle with red liquid around in my hands. It had something similar to Swallow, but it was obviously not the same substance. The raven-haired sorceress smirked. 'It's an arousal-inducing potion, a love elixir if you will. One bottle will send any man in a state of insatiable hunger for the one he loves most, at least for one night. I've figured that you'd probably want to try it on your loverboy.' My cheeks flushed at the suggestion of something so erotic to take place between me and the commander of the Blue Stripes, the idea of him towering over me with lust like that made me clench my thighs together - yet it felt wrong to take something like that as a gift. 'I don't think we will need it, Yen. But thank you.' I said, flustered. The sorceress smiled a little. 'Why not? Don't you think Roche would like it, too? He's coming here tonight, isn't he? Have some fun!' Of course he would, I pondered, but it was an odd gift. I shook my head a little. 'Really, thank you. But I don't really know if it is our thing, you know?' Yennefer simply grinned, giving a small nod. 'Alright then.' she said, 'But I don't have a backup gift.' 'It is alright. You being able to be here is a gift in itself.' The rest of the afternoon was nice and quiet, and the subject of the elixir was dropped altogether. That was, until the evening came around and my friends left. Vernon Roche arrived around eight o'clock, happy to see me in a private setting for once. 'Hello, (Y/n).' he greeted, kissing me passionately for a few moments before pulling back. I smiled at him, content that he was here, able to leave behind camp for a while albeit short. We had been engaged for a while now after courting for several years, yet he never failed to make me feel like a teenager in love again. 'I am so happy that you're here...' I murmured, 'I wish I had a decent snack for you after such a trip. Sadly, Ciri's cake was kind of burned so I threw it away after she left.'

The commander grinned, taking off his chaperone before dragging a hand through his hair. 'It doesn't matter, darling.' he replied, 'For what it's worth, you are a more than decent snack, too.' I blushed at his comment, as if he was flirting for me with the first time and I was unsure of how to react. Fiddling with the fabric of my shirt, I gestured towards a seat for him to take. He happily sat down, taking off his boots and get more comfortable for tonight. It would be far from short, after all.

'I will get something to drink from downstairs.' I said, leaving the room before he could even react. The inn was busy downstairs and it took a few minutes to get the bartenders attention, but after a while I got my hands on a bottle of Est Est along with the remark that it would be put on my tab for a whopping forty crowns, but I didn't care. It was my birthday, after all. When I arrived upstairs, Vernon had already taken off most of his armor, revealing him in an off-white undershirt and his usual pants, the usual belts that clad him discarded somewhere in the corner. He was sitting in a chair near the fire, smiling at me as if something was going on. I raised an eyebrow as I placed the bottle down on the table, moving to open it, but Roche put up his hand to halt me in my tracks. 'Huh?' I sheepishly asked, not sure what he wanted of me. 'Come here.' he said with a deep voice.

Vernon patted his leg and I approached, smiling a little as I sat down on his lap. His arm snaked around my waist, face burying into my neck. '(Y/n),' he purred, 'I found something in your bag. Something I suspect you know more about.' My brow knit together in confusion. 'You've been snooping through my belongings?' I tutted. He grinned as I dragged my hands through his dark hair - he looked better without that stupid chaperone on. From my bag that was leaning against the chair he was sitting on, he took a small bottle and I immediately recognized it - the love elixir! I had not expected her to slip it in so sneakily. 'The label says: "Roche. Drink up as soon as (Y/n) is around to take care of you." What does that mean?' My stomach pleasantly began to tingle. I rubbed my lips against the stubble of his jaw before kissing softly next to his ear. 'What does it look like?' 'It's just a bottle with some liquid. Is it alcohol?' Without waiting for an answer, he undid the cork and smelled it. Roche's nose slightly scrunched at the strong scent. 'That's a very sweet drink. Very red, as well.' I reached over and tapped onto the label. 'What does the rest of it say?' He flipped it over in his fingers after closing it again. 'It promises me the stamina of a stallion. What is that supposed to mean?' Oh, he was just playing games with me. There was no way in hell that he didn't know what the potion was for. The growing erection against my behind was enough to confirm my suspicions. 'It's not just sweet lemonade, Vernon.' I breathed, moving my head to kiss him. After a few seconds of an intimate lip-lock, he spoke up. 'It surprises me you're into something so kinky.' he mused, pushing a few strands of hair from my face. 'A love potion.' 'A gift from Yennefer. Are you going to drink it or what?' I asked him, tilting my head in a challenging way. He let out a low chuckle, taking off the cork again and lifting it to his lips. Before he drank it, however, he smiled a little. 'Why don't you take your clothes off, first? Neither of us know what will happen if I drink this - if I will be able to contain myself until you've slowly taken everything off, or maybe I will rip everything away from that pretty body of yours... Come on, (Y/n), strip for me, and then I will take your potion.' The anticipation jolted through my body as I stood up from his lap, walking a few feet away before turning to look over my shoulder. I started swaying my hips to the slow and sensual rhythm of the music that came from downstairs, clearly audible over the laughing patrons around the inn. Vernon leaned back in his chair, bottom lip sliding in between his teeth. I felt his eyes rest on my ass as I slowly started to undress, then glide across the back of my head as my clothes fell down around my ankles. I didn't face him until I was fully naked and wet with excitement of what was to come. 'I am a lucky man, (Y/n)...' Roche murmured, 'Why don't you turn around?' With a twirl of my body, I turned around to face him, holding my breasts in my hands, keeping them from his prying eyes. The commander raised an eyebrow, surprised at my little challenge. 'You going to reveal those perky nipples of yours that have been in my mouth more than once?' I stepped towards him, unabashed by my very nude appearance whilst a bulge pressed painfully against his trousers. 'I have an idea.' he muttered as I released my breasts. 'Hm?' He gingerly pushed me back, reaching for the bottle before opening it. Then, he pulled me closer to him again, breasts in front of his face. '(Y/n)... Don't move too much, now, or it will all spill.' I was about to ask him what he meant, but as soon as he poured some of the liquid over the mounds of flesh, I let out a shivering breath as his mouth caught onto one of my nipples before trying to catch all the drips of it with his mouth. He eyed my flustered reaction, soon proceeding to add some more. My fingers tangled in his chocolate hair, my cheeks flushed as his tongue swirled around the sensitive nubs and made sure not a single drop of the potion went to waste - it must've looked erotic and extremely lewd - the realization that he was drinking it from the skin of my breasts as if it were shots of alcohol taken in a drunk state made my knees buckle in pleasure. The potion felt surprisingly warm, or was it just the heat of my skin that instantly warmed it up? Too soon, the bottle was empty and my chest was laden with trails of saliva along sticky marks, that were soon kissed away. Vernon was painfully clothed, and before he could even take his shirt off, his eyes had already darkened. I had no idea of how this potion was going to work - would he be fucking me roughly the rest of the night, drooling and pounding like some kind of animal? Would he be soft and sweet, taking me until the earliest of hours without climaxing? Would the potion make him able to make it through climax after climax without collapsing from exhaustion?

My previous statement of him being not naked enough to do things like these were soon discarded - within seconds he stripped himself down from every piece of clothing he had on - the adrenaline and testosterone pumping through him clear as day. He deeply inhaled as if he was smelling something in the air, his eyes momentarily closing as a wicked grin spread over his face. 'Holy shit. This potion sharpens my senses incredibly... I can smell your arousal, (Y/n)...' Vernon purred, leaning in to roughly kiss me on the lips. I just let him guide me and submissively made my way over to the bed, the back of my knees hitting the mattress before I laid down onto it. Part of me was very nervous about what was about to happen, the other part anxious to find out.

I spread my legs for him, but he crawled over me instead, connecting his mouth to mine again. His erection pressed against my stomach in its fullest glory, swollen and red with anticipation. His actions were rougher than usual - his breathing was heavy and loud, as if he was close to an orgasm already. His length pulsated against my skin, pressing in between our bodies while his teeth rampaged around my neck. I gasped at the feeling of him nibbling and sucking away at the sensitive skin, his weight pressing down a little firm onto me. I tapped his arm, hoping he would get the hint. After a few more attempts, he pulled back, looking at me with widened eyes, yet the lust had not left them at all. 'Shit, sorry (Y/n)... Did I hurt you?' I smiled at him, shaking my head. 'You're just a little heavy.' 'We could have a safe word, for if it becomes too much for you?' 'That would be nice. How about Temerian Lilies?' Vernon nodded in agreement, leaning his arms on the sides of my face to support himself. 'Temerian Lilies is fine.' He kissed my neck again, softer this time, yet his breathing was still ragged like before. Hastily, he made his way down, licking one of my sore nipples before moving between my legs. 'Oh, that is what I've been smelling...' he purred, smiling as I wiggled my hips towards the welcoming heat of his lingering mouth. Roche moved his hand, parting my folds to reveal how soaked I truly was for him. With a growl he dove down in between my legs, making me moan loudly. His index finger was instantly on my clit, massaging shattering flicks over it as his tongue prodded it's way into my depths. The commander's eyes fluttered shut and I buried my hands in his hair, undecided if I should either pull him closer or push him back a little to calm down, but I knew whatever attempt would be fruitless since the grip his hand had on my pelvis was strong as iron. He lowly hummed, the heat of his tongue digging into me as deep as it could. My slick ran down his chin already when he pulled back slightly to attack my clitoris with his lips, sucking on it roughly like he had never done before. 'Oh!' I yelped in surprise at the new yet slightly uncomfortable sensation, toes curling as his mouth enveloped the bud fully. I softly moaned as he sucked it against his tongue, a finger sliding in between my labia to play with my entrance. He became rougher in his actions; starting to suck harsher as his finger started to pump and curl into me with an inhumane speed. A jolt of discomfort went through me as he suddenly chose to give the usually pleasurable spot a nibble and I jerked my hips backwards in shock. 'Ouch, Vernon! That really hurt!' He pulled back instantly, looking at my face with large eyes to see if I was okay. 'I'm so sorry, my darling...' my fiancé murmured, the hand that had been holding my body down moving upwards to grab mine. 'Are you alright?' I gave him a small nod and he sighed in relief, dipping his head down for a second to soothe the nub for a moment with his tongue. He lowly hummed, sending vibrations through me. 'So delicious... Way better than any cake in the world.' I laced my hand in his hair, riding against his face for a few moments before he pulled back, face wet with my excitement. Without cleaning himself up, he kissed me again, the taste of myself on his tongue making me moan in surprise. 'Taste that, (Y/n)?' the commander mused after pulling back, rubbing his chin against mine to stain my skin with my own juices. 'So delicious... I adore to eat your nectar... It's the best thing in all of Temeria.' His voice was deep and dripping with desire, chocolate eyes darker than ever before. Just the sight of him would be enough to make me cum, but I knew that he wouldn't be pleased. No, I was certain that he wanted to draw orgasm from orgasm from me, making sure that he was the one to make me feel incredible, so I shouldn't even dare to think to touch myself in any way.

A small laugh escaped me when he sat up on his knees, grabbed my waist and turned me around on the duvet. 'On your hands and knees.' he commanded, as if I was one of his soldiers vowed to obey his rules. I did as he said nevertheless, the weight of his cock soon resting on my butt nicely. 'What a sight...' the brunet man muttered, putting one of his hands on my butt-cheek to caress it softly. A jolt went through my body alongside a sharp yelp that escaped from my lips when he suddenly delivered a hard slap on the skin. 'I can never tire of seeing you, (Y/n)...' Vernon mused, 'Potion or no potion.'

I felt a dribble of saliva slide over my asshole, towards my cunt, until it fell onto the blanket. Roche slightly pushed my legs apart, soon guiding his length in my aching core. A relieved sigh left my throat - it was nice to have sex in a private setting for once. One shallow thrust. Two. Three. And that is when the elixir seemed to switch on a different kind of effect within my fiancé's brain.

Without a second warning, not even a first, I daresay, he started to pound into me with a speed that I could barely comprehend. His hands gripped at my hips, leaving marks immediately from the sheer force that he used, skin slapping skin from where his abdomen collided with my behind. And he was instantly growling as well, almost like an insatiable animal breeding his mate, rough and quick.

It was the feel of his hand reaching around to fondle my clit that had my knees really bucking. Vernon grunted a laugh as I nearly fell flat onto my stomach, overwhelmed by the stars that he sent through my body. My vagina was searingly hot around him, or at least it felt that way to me, the mess that increased with every passing thrust leaving a hot, sticky trail over my thighs. 'Oh, Vernon...!' I moaned out loudly, hoping that no other patrons were awoken by the sudden cry of pleasure, but my husband-to-be didn't seem to mind. Instead, he bent forward, pressed a few sloppy kisses onto my shoulder blades and, even though I earlier had deemed it impossible, began to pound into me even faster.

I pressed my face into the pillow, muffling the screams and whimpers that managed to slip out, focusing on the warmth and adoration in Vernons movements. That this man was far from over, that I was fully certain of right now. And so, I began to roll my hips back, trying to coax him over that pleasurable edge we all have sex for after all - since I felt my own high approaching at a speed that made my heart thump in my throat. For a moment, I considered saying the safe word, telling him the stimulation was too much. My body shuddered, but I knew that if he stopped, it was already too late to stop myself from cumming.

Oh, for sure, I was going to pass out, and the commander's cock hadn't even started throbbing yet. Still, my walls clenched around him, and his name fell from my lips. Then, it happened, more intense and shattering than ever before, I came undone. Vernon's reaction was a chuckle, fingers playing with my clit as my legs quivered underneath me. I was absolutely exhausted. As soon as he knew my high was over, he pulled his cock out of me, wincing at the removal of heat around him. 'Stay like that.' he said with a deep voice. 'Just like that... Stunning.'

A wet sound echoed through the room and I knew that he was jerking himself off, a sudden hot gust of seed soon landing on my ass, leaking down my butt and mixing in with the juices that still ran from my pussy. He grunted my name, letting his orgasm die down.

'(Y/n), turn around and suck me dry, so we can go for another round.' I didn't respond, causing him to gently lay a hand on my back. He didn't use any pressure, but my body was so utterly tired that I flopped down onto the blanket. 'Baby...' he murmured, leaning down, burying his face in my (h/c) hair. 'Listen to daddy...'

I let out a small laugh, shaking my head for as much that was possible while laying face-down in a pillow. 'I am so satisfied, Vernon...' I mused, voice barely louder than a whisper. 'I am sorry.' Vernon let out a small laugh, laying down next to me. 'No worries, darling.' he assured me, 'I won't force you to do anything.'

He softly kissed me, 'I am so happy to marry you, baby.', and I rested my head against his arm. 'And I am sure that I will be the luckiest wife in the world.' For a few moments, we were silent.

'Remind me to thank Yennefer for giving you this present.' Vernon said, looking down at my exhausted form as I tucked myself against his chest a bit closer. I drew my fingers over his skin, circling one around his nipple teasingly. 'Perhaps she can give me one again for Christmas.' I whispered. 'Or two... I wonder what would happen if you were to take one of those...' 'I could drink it off your cock...' 'Hm... Don't say such things right now, (Y/n)... I know you are too exhausted for a second round, so don't tempt me into taking you right now.' I chuckled softly, closing my eyes. His heartbeat started to calm down at last. 'Looking won't hurt.' I concluded.

A sudden, slightly wet sound started to fill my ears and I realized what he was doing to himself. I fondly smiled, sprawling myself out on the bed a little more so he could eye my body while touching himself. It was music to hear him murmur my name whilst I was falling into a warm state of slumber, content to know that tomorrow morning I would probably wake up covered in his spend.

Needless to say, the bottle of Est Est was completely neglected that night. Even though it had cost me forty fucking crowns, well... I didn't mind at all.

[savemefromanepicoftimewasted]

Happy Holidays, Doll

Steve Rogers X OFC Bucky Barnes X Reader They were going to be hosting everyone in the morning, after they’d all opened gifts and eaten breakfast, so that was another worry that Steve had.

a/n:this is a little side story to my Steve and Cap series, hope you guys enjoy!

Steve stared down at the two dogs, trying to figure out exactly what he was going to do to help keep them occupied while he set the gifts underneath the tree.  It wasn’t that they were rowdy, it was that they’d finally got the kids to bed, and Steve needed to work quickly or else they’d wake up without gifts under the tree.  Okay, maybe he was being a little dramatic, but this was the first christmas they’d finally actually remember, and Steve wanted them to truly remember it.

“Babe, just put the gate up, they’ll behave.” Krista stepped over to him, wrapping her arms around his waist.

“But what if they whine?  I don’t need the twins waking up.” Steve reached over, placing his hand onto her growing belly.

God, had it really almost been three years since the twins were born?  And now they were married with another one on the way.

“They won’t whine, it’s almost time they went to bed anyway.” Krista glanced over at the two dogs watching them.

Cap was waiting for Steve to finish whatever he was doing so he could sleep at the end of the bed, Grant was expecting play times.  Cap’s tail wagged slowly, head tilted as he stared up at Krista with hopeful eyes.  It was obvious that he was pretty beat, having been outside for most of the day while the two kids played.

They were going to be hosting everyone in the morning, after they’d all opened gifts and eaten breakfast, so that was another worry that Steve had.  Things would go smoothly, he was just overthinking everything at the moment.

“Gifts are in the closet, I’ll see you upstairs.” Krista pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, heading up to bed.

Steve stalked over to the closet slowly, opening the doors that hid the abundance of wrapped presents.  He’d helped when he could, taking the more difficult items to wrap when Krista struggled to figure it out.

Instead of worrying about it any longer, Steve grabbed as many gifts as he could carry, taking them over and carefully placing them under the tree.  It took almost three trips in total, nearly all of the gifts were for the twins, with the exception of gifts for one another, and their friends that were going to be joining them.

“I can’t believe it’s christmas already.” Steve sighed softly, heading up to bed where his wife was currently asleep.

Cap was asleep on his side of the bed, Grant asleep in one of the many dog beds that were thrown around the house.  Steve couldn’t say no when it came to the dogs, alright?  Especially when he’d take the twins out and they’d find toys for the two overgrown dogs.  God, they truly were his children, along with the twins.

“C’mon bud, I gotta lay down and go to sleep too.” Steve patted Cap’s back leg, waking the sleeping pup.

Cap snuffled, sitting up and moving to the end of the bed without much of a fight, maybe it was because he knew that Steve was the sole protector of the babies.  Which was true, Steve could be described as a helicopter parent at times.  He had every right to be wary though, the twins were still young, able to get hurt at every turn.

“Babe, it’s almost two in the morning, if you don’t go to sleep in the next ten minutes, I will smother you.” Krista didn’t move from her position, choosing to stay curled up in the large bed.

“Love you too, doll.” Steve chuckled softly, wrapping an arm around her waist as he cuddled close to her.

And don’t get him wrong, Steve wanted nothing more than to sleep in until at least ten the next morning, but well, that was impossible with two kids.

“Dada!” Aj crawled onto the bed first, squeezing himself between Steve, and Krista who was still blissfully asleep.

Rosie wasn’t far behind, crawling onto his side when he didn’t bother to move from his spot, save for letting Aj squeeze inbetween.  Cap, and Grant were both pacing the bed, waiting to see what had gotten the kiddos so excited.

“You guys are gonna wake mommy, time to settle down.” Steve wrapped his arms around Rosie, pulling her down next to Aj who was slowly falling back asleep.

Steve watched as both kids fell back asleep, clearly only awake because they knew it was a special day.  So now if Steve could get a little more shuteye that would be just wonderful.

“As much as I’d like to lay in bed all day, your second daughter will demand food until I give in.” Steve whined, picking up both Aj, and Rosie before making his way out of the bed.

They’d gotten little pastries to eat for breakfast the night before, putting them away to stay fresh, and so neither of the kids would try and sneak one.  Luckily they were both asleep, two pairs of arms wrapped around Steve’s neck as he plopped into one of the kitchen chairs.

“Babe, as much as I love holding our children.” Steve knew they didn’t really have a ton of time, not with everyone coming to visit.

“As you should.” Krista pressed a hand against her growing belly, pulling an apple turnover from the fridge.

“We gotta open gifts before everyone comes over, or else they’re gonna see us in our pajamas, and no one wants that.” They had a few hours before the first guests were due to arrive, but no one was ever really punctual.

Krista smiled, finishing off the flaky pastry before heading over to Steve and taking Aj out of his grip.  The gifts were plenty, and the dogs were sniffing around trying to find what was there’s beneath the decorated tree.  They’d gotten a few bones, some toys for each of the dogs, and little snow shoes for when it was a little too slick for their paws.

“Sweetheart, it’s time to open some presents.” Krista bounced Aj lightly, easily waking him.

It didn’t take much for Rosie to wake up and get excited, not when she saw the abundance of gifts that had her name written on them.  Steve helped them open their presents, sitting on the floor with both kids between his legs.  Their squeals of joy were absolute music to his ears, a bright smile on his face.

“Bucky said they’ll be heading over around one, so make sure the kids are cleaned up please.” Krista never left room for argument, not if it meant they needed to look presentable.

“Becca just wants to see her favorite aunt and uncle.” Steve smirked, earning an eye roll.

The twins had tuckered themselves out by eleven, surrounded by toys that Steve was definitely gonna have to clean up before they got dressed.  Krista was humming softly in the kitchen, Christmas music playing as she baked little treats for everyone to eat.  They were doing a potluck style dinner, as both Natasha, and Tony suggested.  Steve had a suspicion it was because Krista was pregnant, and couldn’t do too much cooking.

Steve cleaned up while the kids napped, keeping the dogs away so they didn’t eat something that could hurt them.  Well, Grant did that most of the time, not Cap at least.  No, Cap only tried to eat stuff off the counter when no one was looking, as if he was truly sneaky.

For once though, getting the two kids dressed was a lot easier than Steve had anticipated.  They didn’t try and run off when he’d gotten them out of their pj’s, and they didn’t whine when he’d gotten their brand new clothes on.

“Check em out mommy, looking all sorts of spiffy.” Steve held the kids close to his chest, smiling as Krista walked over with a cookie in each hand.

The twins both reached immediately, thanking her quietly as they dug in, whereas Steve pouted his lower lip as far as he could.

“You can have cookies later.” Krista pressed a soft kiss to his lips, sauntering back over to the counter.

“Yes ma’am.” Steve blushed, the feeling of butterflies still swarming his stomach after all that time.

The moment Cap started barking, he knew Bucky had arrived with Becca, and Y/N, mostly because Cap only barked for his favorite people.

“Hey, come on in you guys.” Steve kept Cap behind him, gesturing for Y/N to come in, followed by Bucky who was carrying Becca.

Becca ran over to Aj, and Rosie almost immediately, telling them about what Santa had brought for Christmas.  Y/N looked exhausted, she was almost due for their second child to be born, and this pregnancy was harder for them.  Bucky had gone to him for advice, asking Steve what he did to help ease the nerves.

Steve felt bad at first, not really able to help his friend out more than he already was, he’d simply gotten lucky that they had twins first.  Now that didn’t mean the second pregnancy was any easier, Steve just knew how to handle things a little better.  Not all the time of course.

“She woke us up at nearly six in the morning, I thought Y/N was gonna burst into tears being awake so early.” Bucky sighed, shrugging off his coat and hanging it up.

“That’s about the same time the kids tried waking us, luckily they fell back asleep til about nine.” Steve had bragged that the serum meant he needed less sleep, but with two kids and one on the way?  He was truly eating his words.

Natasha arrived with Sam and his girlfriend a few minutes after Bucky and the family, the dogs were loving the attention they got, especially from Sam.  The man wouldn’t ever admit it, but he was a huge sucker for Cap, giving into his every demand whenever he came over.  Grant plopped by Nat’s side, relaxing as he watched people talking amongst one another.

“The party has officially arrived.” Tony stepped into the house, Pepper following close behind while trying not to roll her eyes.

“No, the party arrived when Bucky got here, you’re just fashionably late.” Sam snickered under his breath, amazed at how sassy Steve could be at times.

Tony simply shrugged, helping Pepper out of her coat and hanging it up before greeting the kids.  They all adored him, and Steve was glad his kids got along so well with the people he considered family.

“Food smells absolutely delicious, can’t wait to eat.” Tony plopped down onto the couch, wrapping an arm around Peppers shoulders as she sat beside him.

Everyone mingled, talking about the gifts they shared, and what the plans were for the upcoming year.  Bucky, and Steve were both getting ready for the newest additions, meanwhile Tony was trying to grasp the fact that he was becoming a parent.  That shocked everyone in the room, even the two pups.

“Congratulations Tony, I’m happy that you get to experience the wonders that is parenthood.” Steve raised his glass of cider, smile wide on his face.

Bucky told him that he could go to either of them for advice, just because Tony was a genius, didn’t mean he knew everything.

Tony shushed everyone, deciding now was the best time to open the gifts that everyone had gotten for one another.  Steve had gotten both Bucky, and Sam shirts that said “Worlds Okayest Uncle” on them.  That definitely got a few laughs.  He went with Krista’s idea and got Tony an AC/DC shirt, considering Pepper mentioned he’d burned his last one, by accident.  Pepper, Nat, and Y/N had all gotten diamond earrings.

They had all been custom made to celebrate family, something that made Nat choke up as she put them on happily.

“I got redwing fixed for you Sam, and Buck, your bikes sitting in the garage for when the weather is warm.” Sam’s jaw dropped open, along with Bucky’s.

Sam had mentioned that redwing had gotten damaged during a mission and he didn’t have the time, or money, to get him fixed.  So, Steve went and did what he does best.

Tony, as usual, had gifted everyone a vacation, a family one, along with buying Sam a new house.  He’d heard Sam saying how he was outgrowing his current one, so he found the perfect spot for him.

“Goddamn, you really went all out.” Sam smiled, hugging Tony and thanking him once more.

Pepper let everyone know the gift from Tony was a joint gift, and it was understandable, she was running a business while being pregnant, not much time to shop.  Nat got the boys jackets, something fashionable yet warm for the winter months.  For the ladies, a spa getaway.

“I’ll be cashing in after this one is born.” Y/N pressed a hand against her belly, sighing softly.

“I’m assuming the gifts from you guys were joint too?” Sam raised a brow, as if questioning Steve. “Nope, Krista got something for you and Buck too.” Bucky shook his head, rubbing Y/N’s belly, talking softly to the baby.

That came in the form of a photo album.  It ranged from pictures of them before, and after missions(successful ones only of course), birthday parties, events, other Christmases, the book was nearly filled, just the last few pages left blank.

“That way, you can put pictures of your own families there, and make even more memories.” Sam dabbed at his eyes, ignoring the way Bucky chuckled.

They all made their way into the dining room, piling their plates with food, Bucky, and Steve taking the time to get food for the kids and cutting it up small enough, and digging in happily.  Granted, there was more than enough food to feed a small army, but it made Krista happy to see everyone together.  It also gave her an excuse to give everyone leftovers before they left for the night.

Steve promised Bucky he’d give him the motorcycle when the snow had melted and the temperature was above sixty degrees.  Sam could pick up redwing whenever he preferred, just as long as he let them know why he was there.

Once the last person had left for the night, Steve took the kids up to bed, changing them into pj’s and laying them down as carefully as he could.  Of course they’d tuckered themselves out by seven, falling asleep in Tony’s, and Sam’s laps.

“Feels like just yesterday they were newborns.” Krista stepped over, wrapping her arms around Steve’s waist.

“I don’t want em to grow up too fast.” Steve laid a hand overtop of her arms, watching the two kids sleep peacefully.

“C’mon, time for bed big guy.” Krista patted his stomach gently, heading down to where there bedroom was.

This was the kind of life Steve could get used to.

“Merry Christmas to me.”

[springday-aus]

Untold Mermaid Tales: Sunmi’s Story

Fic Piece Written By: Admin Grandma of @springday-aus​

Moodboard Link Created By: Admin Grandpa

Main Character: Lee Sunmi (formally known from Wonder Girls)

Additional Characters: (in order of mention) Kim Yubin, Park Jonghyun, Yoon Junyoung

Genre: historical, fantasy, mermaid!au, revenge story

Type: one-shot writing piece 

Word Count: approx. 6.3k

Plot Summary: Sunmi dreams of leaving home to be a sailor. Her opportunity comes when her brother is sick and she’s sent to care for him overseas. However, the journey goes sour as the real implications of her presence are revealed and feelings get hurt. 

Warnings: [lots of sexism] - sexual harassment, rape is implied, murder mentions. 

For centuries, humans have believed that mermaids are nothing more than mythical creatures of the sea. It started from folklore and fairytales, like The Little Mermaid leading to their current portrayals in the media, such as Aquamarine or Ocean Girl. This is what essentially feeds humans the illusion of mermaids as beautiful beings who do nothing more than sing and swim, leading sailors astray from their paths. 

While it’s true that these creatures are magical, in no way are they as enchanting as they seem. Mermaids may seem to be carefree and gentle because they don’t have a human life on land to worry about. However, they are beings filled with spite, fueled by revenge and bitterness. To understand why is too complex to explain, but they have one goal: to avenge themselves by dragging down the men who dared to have them thrown overboard. 

Along the pier on the edge of Busan sits a young woman closely observing the sea. The waves crash lightly underneath her, the small mists of water spritzed itself into the air, splashing her every once in a while. The salty sea shimmers as it sways from a distance, sparkling against the limited light the sun provides. Just where the horizon starts to fully set lies the clothes of faded pinks, blending within the mix of pale yellows and light scarlet-orange. Despite the darkening sky, incoming ships continue to arrive in the docks, just a couple of blocks short from the pier.

Sumni sits upright and cross-legged, staring out into the never-ending waters—watching the fluttering sails continuously cut through the sunset with its’ shapes getting gradually bigger as time passes. Each one seems the same for everyone else, but to her, each is just as mesmerizing as the next. 

As her thoughts lost themselves within the sea, another’s footsteps lightly taps on the pier’s wood, getting closer to her with each step. She doesn’t budge. 

“Take a seat, Yubin.” She taps the empty spot next to her. “You and I both know I’m not going anywhere for a while.” 

With a shake of her head, Yubin chuckles but takes the seat regardless. “At this point, you should sleep here,” she says. “You practically live on this pier.” 

“There’s no point if I’m leaving tomorrow.” 

“Are you excited? You’re going to be an official sailor.” 

“Of course, I’m excited—slightly nervous, but I’ve been waiting for this since I was ten.” Sunmi leans back on her hands, taking in the scene once more. “I need to see more than just what I’ve read. I can’t just stay here for all of my life.” 

Yubin hums in response, nodding along to Sunmi’s words. 

“Don’t be mistaken,” Sumni says. “I’ll miss you and my family.” 

“But?” 

“Something tells me this is my one chance—another opportunity like this won’t come.” 

Yubin smiles fondly at her, before giving her a small nudge. “Well, at least you’re taking it. You’re lucky. You get to be more than just a housewife or school teacher. Nothing’s wrong with it, but…” She pauses, looking down at her lap. “You got a chance to do more.” 

Sunmi huffs in response. Glancing around, she continues to speak, but with a lowered tone. “I have to confess though. It doesn’t feel right.” 

“What are you talking about?” Yubin asks. “You’ll get to achieve your dreams to see the world beyond Busan, and who knows? Maybe, even meet a nice man, like your captain!” 

“That’s just it though,” Sunmi says. “Captain Park... something feels off about him.” 

Speak of the devil and he shall appear—as if on cue, Park Jonghyun makes his way over from his ship on the docks and along the pier. He jumps onto the sandy shore, breathing in the fresh, foreign air, since he and his crew just arrived from Japan. They’re on their way to Montréal to meet up with St. Laurent, but made a pit stop in the south for additional supplies and shipmates. 

With his black boots thudding against the ground below him, his tall silhouette moves swiftly to gather some equipment to prepare themselves for their journey tomorrow morning. However, he stops in his tracks once he spots the two women nearby. Without a word to his crew, he heads over towards them in long strides. 

His presence doesn’t go unnoticed. The ladies take notice of the man in uniform with the broad shoulders and firm thighs heading their way. The wind picks up, sweeping his dark hair back with grace—his eyes never wavering from them. Dear lord, he’s attractive, but it would’ve been better if he wasn’t aware of it. 

“Ladies.” He bows his head down as if he’s tipping an imaginary hat. “Are you lost?” 

Yubin looks enchanted. Whereas, Sunmi easily get sup from her spot, dusting off her pants. Straightening her shoulders back, she looks up to him with crossed arms. “No, but we were just about to head back.” 

“It’s getting a bit dark, ladies—seems dangerous to be walking alone. Would you like an escort back?” 

“No, thank you…” She quickly scans him from head to toe. “It’s more dangerous to get strangers involved.” 

He simply smiles at her. “Captain Park Jonghyun.” He bows his head once more. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.” 

Yubin visibly perks up, suddenly realizing who he is. “You’re Captain Park?”

“Yes, miss. You are?” 

“Kim Yubin, but you would be much more interest in my friend.” 

Sunmi resists the urge to roll her eyes at Yubin’s side comment. “Lee Sunmi. I’ll be part of your crew as of tomorrow. It’s a pleasure to properly meet you.” 

“The Sunmi?” 

“Yes.” 

“Ah,” he says. He looks off into the distance, brushing his hair out of the way. “I knew you were familiar. You’ve got a face that can’t be forgotten.” 

It’s really amazing what connections can do for a woman in the ‘60s. When Sunmi’s older brother, Junho, fell ill, her father nearly collapsed from the news and her mother cried for days. Both parents feared the worst illness imaginable. Both parents were, and still are, always far more concerned for their son than their daughter. Granted, Junho was drafted into the war, but, in Sunmi’s defense, he came back in one piece. When he permanently moved to California, their parents acted as if he was off to war all over again. 

Anyways, their parents insisted on having someone go to care for him and Sunmi was set to leave. It’s not like she has any complaints—she’ll get to see Junho and the beautiful places she’s only read about in her books. Once it was decided Sunmi would leave, her father pulled a couple of strings and called in favor to arrange for her departure. 

Turns out, her father’s coworker’s cousin knew someone who happened to work for the Park’s family estate—a very high-profiled family with an incredible lineage of sailors who knew their way around the seas. Fortunately, Jonghyun was generous enough to let Sunmi come along. 

“It’d be good for a woman to see the world,” he had said. 

Since Jonghyun’s decision, her father had been directly contacted, which resulted with many letters from Mr. Lee to thank the Park family for letting his irrepressible daughter along Jonghyun’s trip. 

Sunmi had also made contact with him, once he’d accepted her to be part of his crew. (Thank God for those English books.) They exchanged letters and pictures to keep one another updated as to how long the journey would take, where they would be stopping, when they would arrive, etc. Between the letter exchanges, she couldn’t help but feel a bit thrown off from Jonghyun’s manners. Even though she hasn’t met him before, there was a growing suspicion towards him—she couldn’t pinpoint what it is about him that makes him so... odd. Maybe it was how quick he’d accepted her onboard, or the way he complimented her on having a classy chassis when he’d first gotten her first photo—something was just off... 

But, despite her apprehension towards him, she’s grateful for him—she’s had nothing else to look forward to until the past year, fearing that she would be stuck as some sexist’s wife. The 20th century has been progressive so far, but it’s not progressive enough for women to stop being passed as someone’s wife or sister—she isn’t getting much younger and her father would not stop stressing it. She knows had it not been for Jonghyun, she wouldn’t be allowed on a ship until another’s century passed. 

“You’ve gotten by photographs,” Sunmi says. 

“They don’t do you justice.” He takes her hand and kisses the back of it. “Lovely to meet you, little miss. I look forward to working with you. What brings you to the pier?” 

“I’m always here—” 

“And I’ve forgotten that you’re always here.” Jonghyun lowers himself to really look at her. “I was told by your father that you can be found in two places: an ocean or the river. Always drawn to the water, huh?” 

She gives him a tight-lipped smile, feeling slightly put-off from the close proximity of his face. “That’s why I’m here, isn’t it?” 

“That’ll certainly be handy when you’re actually out on the seas. It’s a dangerous journey, do you think you’re ready?” 

“Of course I am, Captain.” 

“Sorry to interrupt.” Yubin glances between them, before turning her full attention to Jonghyun. “But we should be heading back. Dinner’s ready and we all need some time to say goodbye to her.” 

“Of course.” Jonghyun raises an eyebrow at the both of them. “Are you sure you don’t need a man to take you back?” 

“No, thank you,” Sunmi says. “We’ll get back just fine.” She turns away from him, without waiting for a reply, and promptly yanks on Yubin’s arm to drag her along. 

As the distance between them grows, she shouts back to him. “See you tomorrow morning, Captain!” 

“He seems nice,” Yubin says. 

“I guess,” Sunmi mumbles. It’s more towards herself than Yubin, who continues to babble on about what a dreamboat he is, but nothing seems to settle the nerves in Sunmi’s stomach. 

Within a span of eleven hours, Sunmi’s dreams are finally going somewhere. At first, it doesn’t really settle in—even with her parents’ tearful goodbyes, as well as their stern warnings to not cause any trouble, and Yubin’s bone-crushing hug. It doesn’t set in until she stands at the edge of the pier at the break of dawn, with nothing more than her bag in hand, in front of the vessel known as ‘SUNRISE’. The adrenaline rushes through her veins. She can’t feel anything else but her heartbeat that continuously pounds in her chest with anxiety and excitement.

“Excuse me?” 

She turns around, facing an unfamiliar man in uniform—almost the same as Jonghyun’s. However, she notes, he doesn’t have the captain’s tags and carries fewer metals. He stands nearly a head taller than her and his brown hair is haphazardly brushed away from his face with eyes that give her an almost-bored look. 

Sunmi snaps herself out of her thoughts and manages to respond in time. “Yes?” 

“You can’t be here, we’re just about to leave.” He waves his hand away, dismissing her as if he’s swatting away a fly. “Go back to your husband.” 

She smiles at him, the brightest and fakest she can muster, despite the anger bubbling inside her chest. “Actually, I’m here with Captain Park. I’m supposed to meet him here at five.” 

He scans her appearance, before returning the fake smile with his own. “I’m sure you were.” 

A sudden arm wraps around the young man’s shoulder stops him from saying more. Jonghyun arrives in full uniform—unnoticeably breaking the brawl about to occur. Sunmi lets out a small sigh of relief from his presence; for once, she’s thankful for a man’s help. 

“Junyoung,” Jonghyun says. “That’s how we treat ladies.” He turns back to look at Sunmi. “My apologies, he tends to be a bit rude to everyone.” He gives her a wink. 

She gives another tight smile. “I understand.” 

Without a response, Junyoung removes himself from Jonghyun’s hold and trudges back to the boat, mumbling curses under his breath. Sunmi secretly glares at his retreating back and asks Jonghyun. “Who’s he?” 

“Co-captain Yoon—he’s a bit rough on the edges, but he knows how to handle a ship.” 

She almost growls, holding back as much as she can, yet her irritation is dismissed. Jonghyun smiles at her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Now, why don’t you let me show you the way around the ship,” he says. “Just to be sure you don’t get lost.” 

Sunmi gives him a weird look, startled from the sudden touch, but he doesn’t seem to notice as he guides her towards the ship and make their way up to the bow. 

“So there’s all sorts of different ships. Sunrise, here, is a vessel, which operates differently from a sailing ship. It’s essentially built for cargo, as well as passenger transportation. It might be smaller, but it’s equally as powerful as the others.” He winks at her once more. “Now, we are currently on the bow, which means the front of the vessel. The opposite end—right over there—is called the stern…” 

Sunmi can only sigh, hoping he realizes she knows more than he thinks, as Jonghyun continues to talk. Oh, this is going to be an interesting month. 

A week in and Sunrise has had nothing but smooth sailing—for the ship itself at least. Throughout the week and into the following week, the waters remain calm, the wind continue to steer them, and no damages have occurred. Unfortunately, Sunmi has had no such luck with the crew. It’s hard enough for her to adjust as the only woman onboard; she has gotten used to life on the sea, but the other shipmates still haven’t gotten used to her. 

On top of all this, she still hasn’t learned anything on actually handling the ship, like Jonghyun promised she would be able to do—which is why she finds herself a couple of feet away from Junyoung, practically peaking over his shoulder, in hopes of getting a glimpse as to what he’s doing. Despite how openly sexist he is towards her, she oddly prefers him over Jonghyun because Junyoung just ignores her (for the most part). On the other hand, while Jonghyun’s clearly nicer, he has a certain aura that alludes whenever she gets close—it’s all smiles with him and his hand always finds a place on her body, whether it’s grabbing her hand or placing an arm around her shoulders. It’s disturbing. 

Sunmi shudders at the thought of him and his behavior for the past few days. No, she needs to focus. Right now, Junyoung is readjusting some of the ropes tied to the lookout point. She takes a couple of notes into her notebook, from his movements to the aftermath of his actions. 

Junyoung might not explain to her what he’s doing or why he does it, but she knows she’s smart enough to figure it out—she’s red enough books to figure it out on her own. The other sailors often laugh at her—telling her all those little notes are nothing more than useless memos and there’s no point in recording such mundane tasks. She doesn’t bother listening to their little jabs at her because, who knows, maybe later in her life, she’ll be able to use this information on one of her own future expeditions. 

At least, that’s what she hopes. 

Junyoung has already moved to something else, chatting away with another sailor—Eddy. Sunmi makes herself busy and double-checks her notes, not noticing the shadow that lures behind her. 

“What’s this, doll?” Jonghyun asks. 

She flinches, clutching a hand over her chest. “You scared me!” 

He ignores her and takes the notebook out of her hands. He asks again. “What’s this?” 

“My notes.” 

“Why have notes when you have me?” 

She lets out a long sigh, already drained from his presence and this conversation. She grabs the notebook from his hand. “Captain, you haven’t taught me anything new.” 

He takes it right back and taps it on her head, as if she’s a puppy. “I teach you new things all the time.” 

“With all due respect, sir, I would much prefer it if you would just let me—” 

“A-okay, it’s set. If you have anymore questions, you can ask me directly.” He smiles at her once again, placing the notebook into his inner jacket pocket. “If you want this back, you come to me.” 

She gives up quickly, knowing he’ll just continue to push himself onto her like this—as he has been for the entire week. “Of course, Captain.” 

He smiles down at her. “How many times have I told you?” 

She lets out another long sigh, but Jonghyun ignores it. 

“Call me Jonghyun.” He places an arm on her shoulder. “We’re closer than that.” 

She gives him a short, forced smile and removes herself from Jonghyun’s hold. She walks off to cool down by finding something else to reoccupy herself with. He’s the captain and she knows better than to walk into uncharted territory with him. 

Just as Sunmi walks off, Junyoung comes back around, swigging an arm around Jonghyun’s shoulders. “Oh, Jong, Jong, Jong,” he says with a singing tone. “Just what are you planning?” 

Jonghyun smirks. “Don’t be such a wet rag, Jun. I’m just having some fun.” His eyes easily find Sunmi’s figure from a distance. “She’s not easy…” His eyes roam her curves once more. “And I like a challenge.” 

“And how do you plan on conquering this one?” 

“With this,” Jonghyun says. He takes out Sunmi’s notebook with a tight grip, but lightly waves it in Junyoung’s face. “She’ll come for it sooner or later.”

Unfortunately for Sunmi, she comes sooner rather than later. It’s been about two days after, when Sunmi is in Jonghyun’s cabins, but she’s not alone. Junyoung stands next to her, clearly agitated from the whole situation. Jonghyun stands in front of them, slightly amused from Sunmi. According to the other shipmates, an incident happened—resulting with a handprint on Junyoung’s face from Sunmi. 

“Okay,” Jonghyun says. “What happened?” 

“Your crew is led by a big. That’s what happened.” 

“That is not what happened,” Junyoung says. 

Sunmi scoffs at his remark. “What a nosebleed,” she mutters. 

“What did you call me?” 

“Okay!” Jonghyun says. He steps between the two of them, patting Junyoung’s shoulder. “Yoon, you can leave. I’ll talk to Sunmi.” 

“What?!” 

Junyoung smirks at her, making her feel like smacking him up once more. He heads to the door and, before he closes it, he mouths to Jonghyun: “I’ll be back.” 

Jonghyun nods at him, then turns to Sunmi once the door’s shut. He lets out a little laugh, then turns back to what he was originally doing. He stands over to a table, where a large map of the Atlantic lies. 

Sunmi stays rooted in her spot, watching Jonghyun move around. “Captain? Can I explain?” 

He finally looks at her, nodding to himself, then takes a seat. “Sure.” 

She lets out a small breath of relief. “Thank you, Captain. Now, as I was going to explain—” 

“Why don’t you grab a seat?” 

She looks around, spotting a nearby stool and sits herself a couple of feet away from him. She takes a deep breath, trying to collect herself. There’s so much that had unfolded in so little time that she hasn’t had a moment to herself. 

Jonghyun still hasn’t taught her anything throughout the time span that she has been here. How is she supposed to understand what should be tied to which knots and where? How is she supposed to know which direction they’re going in? What the hell did “jibe” mean? There’s so much she’s read to learn about, yet it doesn’t matter if she’s not actually getting the hands-on experience she wants—but trust Sunmi to know she wasn’t about to stay put and do nothing. 

She made it a mission for herself to learn, since no one was willing to teach her how to actually operate the ship. That resulted with her to floating around, observing each sailor and the tasks they were assigned to do—to make mental notes as to what they were doing. Since Henry took away her notebook, she’s been trying to remember purely through memory rather than record. It’s the only notebook she brought with her. 

On the other hand, the other shipmates originally thought she was there to care for them. For a while, she did—until she realized they were just ordering her around as if she was the maid. When she asked for an explanation as to why, Junyoung merely shrugged. “Boys will be boys,” he said. 

She was originally planning on just ignoring him, knowing he was going to say something among those lines. But then, she’d heard him say to another sailor. “She needs to work from the bottom first. She’s already on her knees for the captain.” 

Before she knew it, her anger had gotten the best of her and she slapped him. She doesn’t regret it. Enough is enough; it’s time for her to step up. 

She’s taking this opportunity to bring up one of her bigger concerns. She doesn’t need to explain herself to some man who probably thinks she’s just being temperamental. 

She sits straight with her arms crossed over her chest. She stares at Jonghyun, trying to figure him out before saying anything else. Eventually, after a few moments of silence, she finally speaks. “Captain, I am having trouble understanding something.” 

He isn’t even looking at her. His eyes remain trained on the map in front of him. “What exactly are you referring to?” 

“Sir, I’m here to learn. I want to learn how to sail, but I can’t do that if you aren’t teaching me anything.” 

She’s gotten his attention now. He looks up to her, before straightening up to look down at her. “I teach you new things all the time. Remember when I let you ring the bell? That was a big responsibility.” 

“I haven’t learned anything new, sir. I want to sail. I can’t just watch everyone on the sidelines. If you would let me pair up with Hyunsuk to help lookout, or even with Roy in the engine room—” 

Jonghyun shakes his head at her. “If you get too involved, it could get messy and things would get harder—” 

“Captain, please just let me—” 

“—just stay put for now. Once we’ve settled, we’ll show you around on how things work, okay?” He gives her another pearly white smile, but her frustration is overpowering. She finds herself more annoyed than when she originally came in. If one complaint is going to be filed as trash, might as well add in another. Her shoulders loosen up and her arms are released to her sides—the displeasure from over the past week has officially caught up to her. 

“What about Junyoung?” She asks. 

“What’s wrong with Co-captain Yoon?” 

Sunmi almost laughs. “He’s been spreading rumors about me for the entire past week and the other shipmates are just egging him on. I think something should be done about him.” 

“He’s just joking. He does it to everyone—he doesn’t mean any harm.” 

“Then what are you going to do about the rumors? Or about how the way the rest of the crew is treating me? They all think I’m some easy gal you got fast with.” 

At this, Jonghyun walks over to him, causing Sunmi to follow as well. He stands close, but far enough to lower himself to her eye level, grabbing her shoulders lightly. “Doll, don’t worry about it.” His hand slowly trails along her arm and plays with her fingers, without breaking eye contact. “We can take care of those rumors right now, if you’d like. We can make a bit more true than false.” 

She untangles her hand from him and smacks him away. “Forget it, I’ll deal with them myself.” 

He reaches out to her once more. “Baby, I can take care of you.” 

She shakes her head and steps back further from him. “I don’t need you to take care of me. I don’t need you closer to me.” 

He grabs her wrist once more, except it’s a rougher touch than before. “Doll, you said you wanted to sail.” 

“I do.” She yanks her wrist out of his hand once more. “But not like this. I don’t need you closer.” 

Jonghyun goes silent for a while—his shiny pearls starting to shine a little less. “Now, Sunmi,” he says slowly. “Don’t get so emotional. I’ll give you some time to cool it. But…” 

He scans her once more, his eyes lingering a bit longer on her body a it more than she would’ve liked and chooses to ignore. “You know where I’ll be if you change your mind.” He gives her another wink, insinuating exactly what she fears. 

She blinks at him, not believing what she just heard,  trying to shake his words out of her system. Turning around on her heel, she heads for the door at a leisurely pace. “Don’t get your hopes up, Captain. This over-emotional lady will be in her cabin. I want to be clear. That is not an invitation.” She looks to the side. “I need to be alone.” 

She slams the door shut and he stands for a while, staring at nothing, before chuckling at her antics. Oh, her father’s wrong—she’s more than just a troublemaker. She’s pretty, which is worth bringing on the trip, but it’s not worth the inconvenience she’s bringing. 

He walks towards his previous set up. His jacket is tossed somewhere in the room and his hair is messily tousled. He sits on his chair, resting his feet on the table. A couple of knocks on his door breaks his train of thought. 

Junyoung enters a fresh case of glass bottled beers in hand. “I have returned.” He sets a bottle on the table. “I figured you would need this after talking to the ship’s mooncalf.” 

Without hesitation, Jonghyun grabs a bottle and takes a swig. “And this is why you’re the co-captain.” 

The two sit back and chat, figuring out some additional notes for the journey ahead—sorting out the food supply, the stop in California (and possibly a couple of islands), and all the other little details that can be worked out later. Eventually, they do address the source of their headaches. However, it was only after drowning down all the beers and a couple of bottles from Jonghyun’s oh-so special liquor cabinet. 

“If she keeps this up for the rest of the month,” Junyoung says. “I might just toss her to the sharks.” 

Jonghyun squints at him, trying to realign his vision to somewhat focus on the other man. “She’s really something man. She just—just… just insults me on my own god—goddamned ship.” 

“She should consider herself lucky to even be here.” 

“You see,” Jonghyun says. “That—I thought the same thing.” 

Junyoung huffs. “She needs to be reminded where her place is.” 

Jonghyun silently thinks for a moment. The gears start to shift, but with a sudden familiar gleam in his eyes and another shiny smile, he speaks again. “Say, Yoon. What shall we do if she does just fall off the ship?” 

Sunmi tosses and turns in her small mattress as the boat continues to rock through the night. Granted, the smooth sailing wasn’t going to continue forever, as they continue on with the journey, but it shouldn’t be this bad. It’s the third sleepless night in a row, a couple of nights after being in Jonghyun’s cabin making it worse for her sleep needs. 

Since the conversation, she’s been avoiding him like the plague, but he always seems to find her. She knows she can’t avoid him on a ship, but she just needs her space from him. With the lack of sleep, it’s clear she’s becoming more and more fed-up—at both the captains and the crew. It’s almost as if their behavior has gotten worse: something she did not think was possible. Jonghyun’s smiles have got slimier and Junyoung’s scowls are becoming a more permanent fixture on his face. 

She groans loudly, not bothering to hide her annoyance, and attempts to calm herself down from her thoughts. Something that was supposed to be so beautiful has gone downhill so fast; she’s never missed home as much as now. Maybe instead, once she gets home, she’ll read up some more about sailing, study more on shipbuilding, and she’ll be able to construct her own boat with an all-female crew. 

Oh, how she longs to be on her own—but, for now, she’ll keep these men on their toes with her rebellion and, what Henry calls, emotional outbursts. 

In order to get some decent amount of rest, she closes her eyes, listening closely to the waters. She can see the pier once more, with its beautiful horizon and Asta by her side. She sees the ocean and its never-ending waves—she sees the opportunity to explore. And with that, she finally sleeps. 

On the other side of the ship, a small bash for the captains is taking place. Jonghyun and Junyoung wanted to celebrate a full successful week of sailing. So, they gathered some of their most trusted crew members for a couple of drinks. They all came together at the stern near the starboard; the captains figured the open air would be better than one of the stuffy cabins. 

The stars are out, light wind blew, and the waters rocks the boat at a calm pace. There are chairs set up for them to rest their aching feet and a bunch of drinks spread out for them to grab. It’s relatively calm, each chatting away about this and that. However, one sailor from the group spots the thunder clouds rolling in from the distance; it’s coming slowly, but surely. 

“Oh, shit,” Roy says. “That storm’s comin’ in soon.” 

“How bad is it?” Jonghyun manages to ask, feeling a bit tipsy from the drinks. 

Junyoung waves it off, clearly drunk. “Let it come, it’s Sunmi’s goddamn fault anyways.” 

“Yeah,” Hyunsuk says. “Who the hell let her on anyways? That girl isn’t good for anything but bashing ears.” 

Eddy laughs, then speaks. “Capt’n here probably wanted a quick route.” He takes another sip of his whiskey. “He’s fast, but she ain’t easy.” 

Jonghyun frowns, nearly throwing an empty bottle at him, feeling the sting of being rejected once more. Who knew this woman would cause so much trouble for them? 

Junyoung laughs along with Eddy. “He isn’t wrong.” He looks over at Jonghyun. “This is what happens when a woman gets involved. Everything goes wrong.” 

“Don’t remind me,” Jonghyun says, with a groan. “Jesus, this is harder than I thought.” 

“You talking about her or your dick?” 

Everyone laughs and this time Henry does throw something, but it’s an empty beer can that can do no physical harm. Jonghyun misses entirely, the can is flung into the ocean with a soft plop. Junyoung finishes his drink at that time, tossing it into the water as well. 

The other guys start to toss their empty glasses and cans into the water as well, laughing as if it’s the most hilarious thing they’ve ever seen. However, their laughter is cut short as they spot the storm rolling closer, lightning flashing against the dark sky and harsh thunder claps following afterwards. 

“We’re fucked,” Roy says. 

The rest of the boys sigh, but it’s Jonghyun who speaks up. “This is all her fault.” 

Junyoung’s eyebrows furrow. “You’re right.” 

“It’s because we have a woman on board,” Roy says. “The seas are upset.”

“We were fine before,” Eddy says. “Now, she causes a ruckus and now, a storm’s coming.” 

Junyoung turns to Jonghyun. “So, Captain. What are you going to do about it?” 

Captain Park smirks.

Not long after, Junyoung sneaks into Sunmi’s room with a few shipmates. They move in a quick-paced manner at his order. 

“Tape her damned mouth shut, then get her legs,” Junyoung whisper-shouts. “We need her out of here.” 

Hyunsuk wraps the rope around her ankles, tugging it harshly against her skin. Roy grabs her wrists, tying them together as well as her elbows. As the rope begins to burn against her skin, she wakes up at once. Started at the intruders, she tries to shout, only to be muffled by the duct tape wrapped securely around her mouth. She isn’t able to make out who was who due to the dark, but she is able to recognize the asswipe who’s been after her since day one. 

Getting closer to her face, Junyoung smirks at her. “Sorry sweetheart. Captain’s orders.” 

With her eyes growing wide, she finally realizes how much of a candy ass Jonghyun is, getting others to do his dirty work. She attempts to fight them off, but seeing as they’ve decided to gang up against her, she starts to tear up. She thinks about her family, Yubin, and the dreams that’ll never be accomplished—all because of some stupid men and their stupid pride and their misogynistic, androcentricism views. 

Even with her struggling against them, they successfully move her from her cabin to the edge of the ship. The waters got rougher, splashing harshly against Sunrise—the winds blow more viciously, dark clouds roll closer as each moment passes and the lightning flashes behind them. 

Junyoung steps back as the man of the house has finally arrived. With those black boots thudding against the wood, Jonghyun stands proud and tall, with another shiny, slimy smile as he looks down at her. 

“Sunmi,” he says. “You should have just stayed in your place. Maybe then, neither of us would have to be put in this situation.” 

She holds her head high, refusing to show an ounce of fear for this coward. She would have given him a couple of choice words if it weren’t for the tape. 

He shifts his weight, placing his hands on his belt loops, before moving uncomfortably close to her. “Oh, doll. Such a waste of a pretty face.” He looks up to the other shipmates and nods at them. “You know what to do.” 

He and Junyoung walk off without another word and they throw her off. She hits the water immediately, her body breaking through the top layer with the sound of a smack. As she sinks further into the depths of the Atlantic, she wiggles in an attempt to get the ropes off. But no such luck occurs as she moves her body along, trying to fight the current. She continues to struggle; the ropes continuing to burn against her skin and the current pushing her left and right. She wants to scream and cry for help that she knows won’t come. 

She begins to give up; her body feels tired from the fight—her eyes begin to close and her lungs quickly fill up with water. She can no longer breathe; she can feel her heart beginning to slow down and she accepts her death, praying it’s as painless as possible. She has suffered enough. 

Just when all hope seems lost, a bright light shines down on her. The water around her swirls, as if she’s the eye of a hurricane. From her peripheral vision, she can see different colors spinning around her—as if it’s protecting her. Her arms are freed, but aqua-purple blended colored scales shimmer against her skin to replace the rope burns. 

Her eyes widen from the sudden colors appearing onto her skin. Her ankles remain locked together, but newfound finds replace her feet and her legs glow with that same bright light, as her skin becomes layered with the same colored scales from her arms. Her neck lines split, allowing her to breathe easily in the water. Her nails grow quickly and are sharpened to a point, whereas more teeth grows in, as if to feed on flesh. 

Even as she fully transforms, the water continues to circle around her and the hurricane only grows stronger. 

She’s confused. She doesn’t understand what’s happening to her own body—it feels new and foreign, yet it feels so right. Everything becomes clear; the water continues the ongoing storm, but the colors have stopped and she can see the figures of others. Her eyes grow even wider: there are others who are just like her. The mermaids surrounding her don’t say anything; they’re perfectly still. She locks her eyes on the one in front of her. That’s when she hears it—a voice that isn’t her own telling her: you must go. 

Amidst all of this, Sunrise isn’t far off from where they dropped her, evidently getting caught in the tropical cyclone—moving gradually closer to the center. Some shipmates have been tossed off from the winds, while others have drowned from trying to escape. With a dozen already dead men, Jonghyun and Junyoung remain alive, but not for long. Both are still onboard with a death grip on the ship and screaming out of desperation for some god to help them. 

Sunmi arises from the water, cackling as she sees the ship hurtling towards her direction—with her teeth bared, nails ready to stab, and her revenge as encouragement. Even with the storm, she couldn’t see anything but the rage that blinds her. The fire in her eyes say it all: they are going to pay. 

[aelinbitch-archive]

unpopular opinion: i don’t like rowan/rowaelin. i’m not here to convince u to unstan lol ppl are allowed to like/dislike things w/o feeling bad about it omg but i hate that some rowan stans are so insensitive when it comes to those who don’t like him! they’re so thirsty for him that they condemn anyone who doesn’t stan him & then excuse his problematic/lowkey triggering actions bc he’s hot and it’s gross. AGAIN not saying ppl can’t like rowan it’s ok lol but it’s more about some stan’s behavior

That’s totally fair my angel. I dislike the vibe that some people are locked out of the fandom for not being a cheerleader for every aspect of the series, and I hope that my followers/mutuals know that if they dislike stuff I like, or like stuff I dislike, expressing their opinions regarding that won’t ever cause me to cut them off (unless it’s like, some truly gross shit, which disliking rowaelin isn’t). 

Also I have to say, even tho I do like rowaelin, I understand where you’re coming from about people excusing his actions because he’s hot. I’ve toooooootally seen that. And I’ll just be 100% honest - no shade to anyone, but some of the rowaelin content on this website disturbs me a little bit, in terms what’s considered hot/romantic/acceptable when writing or depicting them in art. I’ve seen some weird stuff defended as hot or even just “not that bad.” Which isn’t necessarily a problem with canon, but your ask was more about stans anyway, so yeah. 

A while ago I actually wrote rowaelin meta in response to some other peeps (which was more about Aelin in relation to Rowaelin and how she’s included or not included in discussions of the ship, but it has some thoughts relevant to this ask) so I’m gonna just copy and paste what I wrote below and feel free to read if u want. (It’s like very overdramatic and fiery lmao but anyway). 

I agree with a lot of this, but (at risk of derailing ms aelinapologist’s amazing post) I do have a few things to say, which are

1. OP took two whole paragraphs at the beginning of her post to say that the point wasn’t to discourse about rowaelin being abuse or not abuse, it was to talk about how the conversations centering around said abuse consistently display a disturbing lack of empathy for the character who should be the main concern of the debate. So I just find it a bit funny/odd that the replies (including a portion of the one I’m about to make, I admit that) have been like “Yeah great post! And now to discourse about Rowaelin-” but I digress.

2. I have consistently loved reading about Rowan and Aelin and they’re one of my favorite fictional couples. So nothing I’m about to say is intended to be like “GOTCHA they suck and you suck for liking them!!!” Because I like them as well. A lot. And in addition, nothing about this reblog is intended to be shady or confrontational in any way shape or form. I just think this is a great and very needed discussion I’d like to contribute to, so here goes.

3. Even if we look at HoF alone and ignore how things play out later: yes, they are both mean to one another, yes, they are both in a dark place and end up having a mutually positive effect on one another (so I definitely agree that, at least for HoF alone, it’s not a “douchey guy changes for the heroine story”) but. There IS still a power imbalance. I don’t think it’s entirely accurate to say “they were both bad The End” without also bringing up the fact that Rowan is 300 years old and Aelin is 18, and that Rowan is training Aelin and is in a position that gives him a massive amount of control over her, and that he is stronger and more powerful than her physically, magically, and socially (he is a prince and legendary warrior, she is a AWOL teenage princess currently working as a scullery maid).

Maybe I’m reading into it too much, but I really just don’t think that Aelin, a 17 y/o girl going through an unimaginably shitty time, being like “fuck you!!” to this 300 y/o jerk who doesn’t know shit about her is on the same level as aforementioned 300 y/o jerk hitting her, biting her, and telling her she would have been of more use to the world if she’d died when she was eight.

And in addition to that, we see that his behavior effects her a lot more than it effects him. When he verbally tears her down, we see her experience genuine and devastating despair and shame, whereas everything she does and says to him, no matter how snarky or outright cruel, is not having that same effect on him. People always seem to think they’re giving Aelin credit for being a Strong Woman™ by saying “she’s tough! she can handle it!” when in reality… we have evidence for the fact that she kinda can’t handle it. That the way he treats her in the beginning is slowly wearing her down and sending her deeper into a depressive state. And I don’t understand how it somehow reflects poorly on Aelin (or is even misogynist) to acknowledge this. Women, especially literal teenage girls, should not be measured by their tolerance for mistreatment.

All I really wish is that somewhere along the line we’d gotten a genuine apology from Rowan for this besides a throwaway line in KoA about regretting their “brawling.” And again, none of this is to say “see!! it IS abuse!!” it’s just to suggest that, even as an enemies to friends to lovers story, the “enemies” part was not exactly on a level playing field.

4. But with that being said, I could probably forgive the imbalance in their early relationship, mostly because their later relationship, as both friends and lovers, is so amazing and supportive in pretty much every way. And the great thing about enemies to FRIENDS to lovers, like you said, is that 1) none of the assholery occurred during any kind of romantic or sexual relationship or a transition into one, so it was sort of “fair and square” in that way, and 2) they had the opportunity form a solid, platonic foundation of trust and caring before they crossed into the lover territory.

Aaaaaaaaaand then Sarah did a retcon job on HoF which negated… pretty much all of that. I can totally be down with “good old fashioned mutual hatred thaws into caring which grows into love” but once we start hearing shit like “‘Sometimes, you’d be sleeping beside me at Mistward, and it’d take all my concentration not to lean over and bite them. Bite you all over’” and “‘That was the first time I really lost control around you, you know. I wanted to chuck you off a cliff, yet I bit you before I knew what I was doing. I think my body knew, my magic knew. And you tasted… So good. I hated you for it’”……. hhhhhhhhhhh.

I can’t think of many arguments for this NOT contributing at least a little to the “he’s mean because he loves you (and stick it out because someday he’ll figure it out)” trope. And while it might be a bit different because Aelin was quite mean as well, her behavior was just… meanness. Not some sort of weird outlet for repressed sexual attraction/love. I guess I just get flashbacks of “No sweetie, that boy in your class kicks your desk, pulls your hair, and calls you names because he likes you and doesn’t know how to express it.”

And I think this decision on Sarah’s part to go back and say he was into her all along is 1) a result of the mating bond thing she’s so fond of and 2) kind of a panicked backpedalling to the backlash she might have gotten over Rowan’s behavior in HoF? Which is…. so ironic because she made it SO much worse. In my humble opinion, she should have just doubled down on what she originally wrote as enemies-friends-lovers (and had Rowan bring up his early behavior and apologize in some way), and the problem would have been solved. And while I personally feel that I can recognize this for what it is - a shitty retcon - and enjoy the relationship despite it, I don’t think we should talk over people for whom this is a deal-breaker for the ship.

5. I don’t think about all of this and have the reaction that so many “anti tog” people seem to have of “FUCK Rowan he’s ABUSIVE and PREDATORY and I wish he was DEAD!!!” I think there are things to criticize about his behavior and about the way Sarah decided to spin their relationship, but they have had many great moments, especially in the later books, and I don’t think I or anyone else is “shipping abuse” by enjoying that. All of this is just to emphasize how, in OP’s very succinct words, “your inalienable right to enjoy two characters’ dynamic does not outweigh the right to criticise it.” Because there ARE valid things to criticize, and we as Rowaelin shippers (lol.) need to be careful not to conflate ugly hatred with valid criticism when we speak over it.

And because there IS so much ugly hatred for Aelin and her relationship with Rowan on this website, I completely understand why there’s a kind of knee-jerk reaction of jumping to defense of this ship we love. But that impulse, quite frankly, means nothing to me if defense of Rowaelin includes the erasure of Aelin’s canonical experiences. And maybe this is wacky and controversial, but I’m pretty sure we can express our enjoyment of Rowaelin AND keep Aelin as an individual from being swept under the rug.  

6. More than saying any of that what I really really want to do (and have been trying to do in the previous paragraphs, but maybe unsuccessfully) is bring the conversation back to OP’s original point which was not “abuse!” or “not abuse!” but about how the ways in which we discuss “abuse or not abuse” often includes a stomach-turning lack of concern for Aelin and some frustratingly reductive arguments. And somehow I have the sneaking suspicion that Rowaelin shippers are reading this post and missing the point, which that this is happening on BOTH sides of the argument.

Everyone is perfectly entitled to ship Rowaelin and argue their opinion about its merits or lack thereof, but when we cover our ears and say “she was mean too she was mean too she was mean too she was mean too la la la la la la la” that’s completely ignoring the genuine pain that she did experience in HoF and the power imbalance that she was subjected to, no matter whether or not we personally feel that it was sufficiently rectified in later books.

And I see this ALL THE TIME, in both the fandom and “anti-fandom”, and I’m honest to god quite sick of it. I’m sick of the willful ignorance of a teenage girl’s pain in order to further an agenda. Yes, it’s more stomach-turning when the agenda is to prove what an evil bitch she is or whatever, but it’s not excusable if your agenda is to prove Rowaelin is great, either! And I don’t understand why we have to throw all nuance out the window and ignore how Dorian hurt her, ignore how Chaol hurt her, ignore how Rowan hurt her, fucking hell, ignore how SAM hurt her, just so we can make our arguments! Because as much as the antis love to scream about “WHAT MESSAGE IS THIS TERRIBLE SHIP SENDING THE TINY GIRL-CHILDREN WHO READ THE BOOKS???” it’s also like, what kind of message is our ongoing discussion of it sending by sweeping a teenage girl’s experiences under the rug when we argue about her relationships?

And like OP said, what have we even got to show for it? No conclusion has been reached, nothing has been achieved besides valuing a romance (or the hatred of that romance and preference for a different romance) over individual characters, namely an individual character who happens to be a teenage girl that has suffered an ungoldy amount - suffered, sometimes, at the hands of male characters we like.

In conclusion, the mass allergy everyone seems to have to giving a shit about Aelin unless its to further their agenda is sickening. If I had a dollar for every time I’ve had to hear about how poor Manon’s character was “ruined” by Manorian (although not directly by DORIAN, of course, because apparently Saint Haviliard can do no wrong) I’d have enough money to buy a lamborghini and drive it off a cliff like I wish I could every time I hear someone’s terrible hot take about how Aelin is complicit in her own alleged abuse. Yet somehow I’ve never heard anyone complain about the damage done to Aelin’s character by any of the male characters, including Rowan. It’s never “Rowan ruined Aelin’s character!!” it’s “Rowaelin sucks and so does Aelin.” In fact, one of the REASONS Aelin sucks in the first place IS Rowan/Rowaelin! What a great implicit message to send to people reading your “critiques”: if you are annoying and #problematic enough, your suffering will be used against you and you will receive no sympathy for it. Cool!

And for other ships, too: it’s never “Chaol and Dorian, while at points a very good for Aelin, also caused her a lot of pain” it’s either “Chaol was right about Aelin in QoS and both he and Dorian are ruined because of her #chaorian” OR, from the fans, who, again, are not off the hook, “Chaol and Dorian and Aelin are BFFs forever #originaltrio.” And as a teenage girl myself, who loves and identifies with Aelin, who is more invested in her story than anyone else’s… I’m just tired. And more than a little appalled. And I wish we could do better.

[the-mira-life-project-mtf]

A Yearly Gender Dysphoria Review for 2019

A Yearly Gender Dysphoria Review

December, 2019

(Taken February 2019 - 10 Months On HRT)

Abstract: The purpose of this yearly review is to track my progress as being transgender. I theorize that being transgender isn’t only a biological change; but a mental change that is brought on by chemical and cultural adaptations. It is very difficult to measure one’s transformation on a daily scale and after conducting two years of this review, I hope it will yield that I am not only changing physically, but also mentally.

Many of the questions are very personal…but for the purposes of scientific research, I’ve written questions to form a baseline over the years and questions that dive into my physical changes, Physical desires; sexual changes and sexual desires.

In five years, it is the hopes of this review to compare and contrast my evolution from male to female and to see how closely I stayed at my goals.

 ***

BASELINE QUESTIONS

Given Name: David

Desired Name: Mira

Legal Name: Mira Carleen

Desired Gender: Female

Legal Gender: Female

LGBT Status: Transgender

Relationship Status: Dating

1) How did you choose your name?

A: Mira was a name that I have gone by secretly since I was seven years old. Oddly, the name came to me during a drowning event at Copalis Beach. I hallucinated that I was saved by a mermaid who told me that her actions would have profound implications on my life. She wasn’t incline to return me to the surface, wanting me to remain with her and she gave me a new name that sounded like ‘Mer-a’. I begged to return to the surface to be with my family and she reluctantly took me to the surface while telling me that from this point forward, I’d no longer be male, but a female mermaid and that the change will happen if I like it or not.

To say the least, the origin of my name sounds something mythical. By for my family’s beliefs; it is quite likely that I was saved by a mermaid as our family has been entangled with mermaids since the 1500s.

Oddly, the name Mira has more implications then I could have ever imagined! Many of the meanings behind the name Mira speak to my personality (Wonder, Wonderful, Goodness, Peace, Kindness, Helpful, Beautiful, Prosperous, Ocean, Sea, Limit, Boundary, Light, Princess, Soft Like Velvet Rose, He/she Watches, Exalted, Star of the Ocean).

As for Carleen, that name was chosen in January of 2019 in remembrance of Amanda who set me on track to preserve my life from an unknown respiratory disease that almost killed me in 2015. Without the knowledge of cystic fibrosis, I would have continued on the wrong therapy and most likely died from lung failure.

2) What other names were you thinking about using and why?

A: My top five were Mira, Delenn, Kathryn, Harmony and River. Mira eventually won over all the names as it meant the most to me. Delenn was a fascination of grace and power from the Croatian actress, Mira Furlan. Kathryn’s origin is unknown, just a name I used a lot in the 2000s in my stories. Harmony and River both have ties to water.

The expanded full list looked like this:

Mira (Chosen name, given by a mermaid)

Amira (Version of Mira)

Arimira (Version of Mira)

Nanette (A name I used in my stories)

Ananette (A name I used in my stories)

Kathryn (A name I used in my stories)

Kathren (A name I used in my stories)

Kristin (A name I used in my stories)

Sirena (Uncertain…Ocean related name)

Harmony (Harmony Falls, Mount St. Helens)

Delenn (Babylon 5 Character)

Rain (Androgynous Name)

River (Androgynous Name)

Tia (Uncertain)

Bri (A name I used in my stories)

November (My birth month)

Aura (Lovely name)

 3) How long have you been on HRT?

A: 15 Months (Enrolled In The Program) and 13 Months of compliance with HRT.

4) How long have you been Mira?

A: 28 Years

5) How long have you been ‘Mira’ legally?

A: 9 Months

6) How long have you identified as female?

A: About 28 Years

7) How long have you’ve been legally female?

A: 9 Months

8) Do you regret your decision to become Transgender (Woman)?

A: No. I only wished that I have became transgender much sooner. My life as a female, as Mira has been a blessing. Much of the social pressure that I felt as being David is gone; and since my transition, my relationship has improved.

There is still concern about what I am doing, but I’ve had 28 years to figure this all out. The only difference now is that my whole name is different and I am finally looking like the woman I’ve always imagined myself becoming.

9) How long have you known you were Transgender (LGBT)?

A: This is a difficult question as I’ve struggled with the label ‘transgender’. I was raised to believe that those that were lesbians, gay, bisexual and transgender were mentally disturbed. So, accepting that I fall under the LGBT umbrella has taken some time to get use to.

If I had to be honest, I began to truly realize I might be transgender when I signed that Consent form to begin HRT. So, roughly a year and three months.

***

LGBT QUESTIONS

1) On the LGBT spectrum, where do you fall; gender?

A: Transgender Woman

2) On the LGBT spectrum, where do you fall; sexual?

A: Lesbian

3) When did you realize that the term Transgender referred to you?

A: At the beginning of 2019 when I began considering legally changing my name from David to Mira. The catalysis that solidified the term was when I decided to make a full gender transition from male to female and began considering surgical intervention. Because of these changes, I feel that I no longer can label myself neither ‘gender-fluid’ or ‘non-conforming’.

4) When did you realize that the term Lesbian referred to you?

A: Around February 2019 when I rekindled my relationship with my girlfriend. We considered the aspect of our relationship. And because I yearn to become female legally, physically and sexually…it would transform our relationship status from male & female to female & female. By April 2019, I legally changed my gender from male to female, making our relationship as lesbians.

5) Are you comfortable with the term ‘LGBT’ or calling yourself Transgender and/or a Lesbian?

A: No. I’ve never liked labels…they are too restrictive to a person’s true identity.

Like the labels of male and female; they are terribly flawed! One truly can not be pure female or pure male. For females, their bodies convert excessive estrogen into testosterone; aiding in secondary male characteristics like facial hair. And males, they are first conceived as females before a mutated gene switches them into a male.

I find that society, which is now much more accepting of the LGBT; still has an unwillingness to fully accept them as being a lesbian, gay, bisexual or transgender on the basis of not understanding what makes us ‘different’ from a normal cis-woman or cis-man. This ignorance can lead to cis-people acting out in flight-or-fight responses when confronted with something that isn’t like them.

Over the months however, I have slowly come to terms to accept that is am no longer a cis-male by birth, but transgender, as I will have both cis-male and cis-female physical characteristics and biological functions (minus a uterus or ovaries).

6) Are you currently active in the Trans Community or LGBT Community?

A: No. Not physically. I do write about my experiences at a Transgender Woman battling gender dysphoria. I update two blogs to catalogue my journey (Tumblr & DeviantArt. With case-sensitive images not allowed on Tumblr’s platform).

As of lately, I work with my transgender physician to catalogue medical changes and correlate my research with what she knows to bring the most accurate information possible.

7) Have you reached out to a LGBT center for help?

A: Yes. I reached out to the Ingersoll Gender Center in Seattle twice for help finding a doctor and information on psychologists capable of diagnosing gender dysphoria…but I’ve never heard back from them on both messages.

Since then, I refuse to use any LGBT accredited resources as they are unreliable.

8) Who was the first person you told about being Transgender?

A: Unofficially, it would have been my girlfriend, Ruth. Before I started HRT, I mentioned to her that I thought I might be gender-fluid or gender nonconforming. She replied that she had suspicions that I might be transgender as I always associated as female. She also thought I might be asexual in sexuality due to my displeasure in intimacy.

9) What are something positive about being Transgender?

A: Personally, for me, it is like finally healing from a long-term wound that no one can see. I can finally blossom, open up and be the person I truly am without the risk of being of being called emasculate terms.

Being transgender is something rare. Most humans will only experience one half of their potential, whereas trans individuals like myself, we experience both halves of our soul; knowing what it is like to be both male and female at the same time.

10) What are some fears about being Transgender?

A: My biggest fears seem to surround what other cis-people think of me. There is always the fear that someone unstable will perceive me as a threat to their ideology and act out irrationally.

Using the restroom is still terrifying to me! I’d rather risk an ‘accident’ then place myself in a situation where I might get harmed. Even calling myself female can be scary depending where in the country I am, or the age of the crowd I’m in.

I hadn’t considered how ‘vulnerable’ I would feel being female until the day I was tormented by an intoxicated gentleman, alone in an elevator. This experience opened a whole array of thoughts of dangers that I am now susceptible to: ie: mainly sexual harassment and after GRS, rape. I however feel confident I can defend myself in these situations.

11) How do you manage your dysphoria?

A: At this time, with Hormone Replacement Therapy. With a great reduction in testosterone, many of the mental symptoms of gender dysphoria have faded away. I still have the physical dysphoria that I deal with from time to time.

However, I hope to treat the four major causes of my dysphoria with treatments and surgery. The biggest one was my dysphoria of body hair. I have begun laser hair removal of the face and am considering laser hair removal of the chest (mainly breasts) once my face is fully treated (also, these treatments are terribly expensive! Almost 1,500$ for just the face and neck). The second surgery is FFS which is being determined by the insurance company (Jan 2020) and breast augmentation sometime late 2020 to 2021. The last surgery will be GRS to complete my transition.

12) What are you doing to stay healthy for transitioning mentally and physically?

A: Looking at the positives is a must!

My MtF~HRT Journey hasn’t been easy and very costly!

Dealing with the toxicity of female hormones at the beginning was tough, but now that I am chemically female, it is much better.

One of the things that can be a put down is not transitioning fast enough. I always tell myself: Puberty lasts for years, and my coming of age took four years to finalize when I was 17 years old. So, HRT isn’t going to happen overnight.

Sometimes I look in the mirror and become annoyed as I still see a male face looking back at me, but I remind myself that this is a process. It can take the face 5-10 years to finalize on hormones! 12 months to finalize after FFS.

Then there is the aspect of surgery. I am no fan of pain; but living with CF has given me somewhat of a tolerance to it. I look at surgery as milestones that I must achieve in order to live my life to its fullest and to write down in this blog that hundreds of perspective LGBT individuals are reading and following.

Mostly, I get through this all as playing the scientist role in this journey. My training and background in geology gives me a constantly curious mind and when I looked for answers across the internet and found jumbled information with very little scientific approach, I knew that my transition must be for a greater good.

Mentally, I am living my life as Mira. I never look back on my life as David…I’ve pretty much separated everything that made me David for Mira, going in a whole different direction with my life…literally born anew.

13) How have you’ve embraced your Transgender identity?

A: I haven’t really.

I’ll tell people I’m transgender when I feel that I have been called-out. But most of the time I am just embracing my womanhood.

I’ve been invited to a few LGBT support groups and have been invited to a Gay parade in Bremerton, but I’ve kindly declined each time.

If I am anywhere close to embracing my Transgender identity, it is probably in this blog. And if I am being truthful with myself, my identity as Mira makes me equally transgender.

18) How do you feel about the LGBT laws where you live?

A: As a resident of Washington State, we have some of the most aggressive LGBT laws (besides California) that protects the Transgender. Pride parades are very common here and even the city of Seattle has elected its second LGBT mayor.

Yet, we still have some serious grey areas!

I live in the rural area of Kitsap County which has an older population and a military population what is quite resistant of the LGBT. So being openly transgender in my hometown isn’t wise.

Under Washington Law, same-sex sexuality was legalized in 1976, anti-discrimination laws passed in 2012, same-sex marriages legalized in 2012, lesbians, gays and bisexuals allowed to serve in the military in 2011 (transgender people are forbidden). We have the right to change of gender without GRS, and LGBT options are available on birth certificates as of 2018. Our schools have an LGBT anti-bullying policy and we can donate blood if desired.

19) What are your views on the cis-gendered community?

A: As a previous cis-gendered individual; I have only come into knowing the LGBT community since I attended college. While at South Kitsap, the term LGBT was unknown to me. And even then, I only began to understand my place in the grand scheme of Cisgendered vs. Transgendered nature.

I’ve seen and experienced both sides of the cis-gendered community; from the accepting to the un-accepting to the ones that wish to do harm.

Being transgender, I know what it is like to deal with gender dysphoria and to watch a few cis-gendered individuals say that it is all a mental disease isn’t only hurtful…its pure ignorance.

I do my best to align myself with the friendly, accepting cis-women and cis-men who see me as Mira and not a Transgendered Woman.

 ***

BODY-TYPE (DYSPHORIA) QUESTIONS

Facial Features (Desired)

I envisioned my face being rounded ‘oval’ in shape…which is classical for an ideal ‘feminine’ feature. My upper cheek bones are pronounced to make my cheeks fuller in appearance, my jawline smooth without its sharp ‘masculine’ features. My lips are filled out, but not changed much from my male lips. My nose thinned in appearance and my face has no visible facial hair. My brow thinned back, opening up more of my eyes.

Hair Features (Desired)

I envision my hair being shoulder blade in length, blonde with silver highlights. The tips of my hair dyed aqua-blue. Light wavy texture and shiny and healthy.

I prefer my hair only layered (lightly), my bangs natural and swept over to my right side. My hair parts down the left side of my head as it always has. I hardly tie back my hair, only using clips on the long bangs to keep it out of my eyes. I picture my hair parted in two ways, half hanging over my shoulders, embordering my facial features as it rests between my clavicles and breasts. The other half resting down my back.

Neck Features (Desired)

Slender, the structure pretty much unaltered from the physical neck on my previous male form.

I envision no visible facial hair on the upper portions of the neck (to chin and jaw).

Shoulders Features (Desired)

Maintain their masculine shape, but thinned down.

Relearn to reposition my shoulder blades to feminine stature to support the spine and make room for my breasts.

Upper Arms (Desired)

Feminine in muscle mass and tone. This is a must if I plan to wear feminine clothes, thanks to the stitching in the fabric to support the breasts which makes the arms sometimes tight.

The skin should be devoid of any body hair.

Lower Arms (Desired)

Feminine in muscle mass and tone. 70% of the time my lower arms will be exposed and can give me away as transgender if not maintained. The skin should be always devoid of any body hair at all times.

Back (Desired)

No visible body hair

Chest & Breasts (Desired)

No visible body hair, smooth.

I have two C-Cup breasts, firm and dome-like in appearance. My mammary glands fully formed with appropriate amount of fat. Nipples are feminine in appearance with darkened areolas about quarter size.

Belly And Waist (Desired)

No body hair, smooth.

Belly is rounded (being realistic), but fat is redistributed to my hips, making only one belly roll when I sit down. Waist is narrow in appearance (between my chest and hips).

Genitalia (Desired)

I envision myself without my penis or testicles (as they are part of my gender dysphoria). They will have been repurposed into a functionable feminine ureteral and vagina. It is a must to rid of the male genitalia (physically) to pass officially as female. Until then, my favorite activity like swimming will always be a lingering fear…and relationship-wise, it is the only way I can become ‘sexually’ active as I feel that my male genitalia are an abomination; only serving in one function: low UTI risk which can be managed with proper hygiene as a female.

Buttock (Desired)

I envision myself with a feminine buttock in size and proportion. Rounded and firm, but not overly large. My buttock should gently blend in with my hips.

Upper Thighs (Desired)

Maintain my muscular mass. Body hair here is acceptable if it is light brown or blonde in color (with blonde being ideal).

Lower Legs (Desired)

I envision them feminine in form, but maintain a lean muscle mass as I wish to return back to hiking and swimming after my transition. Body hair here is not acceptable due to wearing dresses and skirts.

Feet (Desired)

Not really a top priority. My feet will retain their size 13 form; however, my nails shall remain painted in gel polish.

Hands (Desired)

Not really a top priority. My fingers have always been slender, long and feminine. I envision always having my nails painted with gel polish; my body hair shaved.

 ***

MENTAL EVALUATION QUESTIONS

Feminized Brain

1) Have you’ve grown fond of the color pink?

A: No. I still do not find hues of red attractive. Especially pink.

In my updated ‘feminine’ wardrobe; I’ve avoided all colors of red, orange and yellow and prefer colors in the hue of blue. I like both black, white and grey.

I’ve noticed that I have taken on a liking of purple…which I never wore before my HRT.

2) Have you’ve noticed any new scents coming off your body?

A: Yes. At first it wasn’t quite noticeable. In my first few months of HRT. I guess when you’ve been a cis-male for over 33 years of your life, you become ‘blind’ to your natural pheromone odor.

However, about a year into my HRT, I began detecting something ‘off’ about the way I smelled. Now, it isn’t anything like body odor created by sweat-devouring bacteria, it was something that lingered after a shower, or went with you throughout the day.

Oddly, when I began detecting this scent, I noticed that I wasn’t alone. This was about the same time when I began getting unwanted sexual gestures from men. Even my mother noticed the change about three months ago when we were at a casino.

Even now, I still struggle to explain it; to me, it is like a scent of freshness…but when I seem to enter a ‘pseudo-cycle’ from my hormones, those scents seem to increase to the point that it can be over bearing. Secondly, I have noticed that if I use secondary scents like fragrant body wash or perfume, it only increases the scent.

3) Have you subconsciously used ‘female pronouns’ in describing yourself?

A: It varies from time to time. I’d say, maybe 60% of the time I think of myself in female pronouns. I remember how odd it felt to say ‘she’ and ‘her’, like when someone calls to talk to Mira and at first, I hesitated when I said ‘…she? Speaking.’ now it is a confident ‘This is her speaking.’

When I think of myself as in individual, usually when my dysphoria seems to be triggered is when I revert back to confusion and/or ‘him’. However, even that is starting to fade away as I am seeing myself anew each week.

At first, I did not really care if people called me ‘he’ or ‘she’, and this seemed to delay my subconscious feminization for a time. However, as I have began mentally calling myself a ‘she’, I find myself annoyed with the improper pronouns, but will not verbally correct anyone…I just ignore them entirely as if they don’t even exist in my reality.

4) Have you started ‘mentally seeing’ yourself only as female?

A: It varies from time to time. Most of the time I picture myself female. I have pictured myself as a female since I was only seven years old. Only when I feel that I am failing to pass as female do I start doubting myself.

Oddly, when my mental voice speaks, it is female and quite possibly is my strongest advocate for myself as it continues to remind me that I have always been Mira; just that something went wrong during my rebirth.

I still see myself as a woman, which gives me a mental picture to compare with what my eyes see. And at this time, I’d say that I am about 40 percent of the way there.

5) Has your demeanor became ‘feminine?’

A: Somewhat. Most of my verbal and body language is becoming feminine in nature, some on purpose and some subconsciously. Even my changing anatomy has my body position differently.

For example, having C-Cup breasts are very heavy when your back isn’t use to them. To release the tension and stress off of my upper back, I have had to relearn to sit and hold myself up in an ergonomic fashion.

Widening hips (due to extra fat) and widening glutes have offset my stride and I find myself swaying more often at the hips, which gives me a feminine gate.

My speech patterns have not changed, nor has my vocal tones in how I pronunciate my words.

 Feminized Aspect

1) What cup size did you ‘want’ your breasts to be?

A: I desire to have bigger breasts then average…I’ve always expected myself of having a larger bust size, and with my recent growth, I’ve been somewhat pleased as my growth will make a great platform for implants down the road.

Recently, I have experienced one of the more unpleasant side-effects of having large breasts: back pain and digging bra straps. Even now, I still don’t consider my breasts as feminine breasts because when I lay down, they seem to disappear. This is totally natural with women whose breasts are between an AA-A-Cup.

With implants (which I will be fighting to get this year); they would retain a natural look while I lay down, staying centered on the chest, not flattening out like my breasts are doing now. (Although, when I wear a bra, the breasts are held in place it seems)

2) Has your sexuality changed?

A: No, I am still sexually attracted to women. The thought of dating a guy is appalling to me. However, I have found myself sometimes ‘looking’ at guys in a daydreaming state, but I still can’t see myself in a romantic relationship with men.

During euphoric moments (which have changed on their own accord), my mind does venture on the aspects of intimacy. This has never happened before when I was a cis-male and is very confusing. I find myself mostly wanted to be held, touched and embraced. This desire has even led me to overcoming my fear of touching my girlfriend and has allowed us to share in our first hug and kiss in over 12 years of being together.

3) Do you feel sexually as a woman now?

A: This is a very personal question...but yes.

Some of the sensations I now feel are beyond anything I’ve felt as male. Without going to deep into details, when I was a male, the erogenous center was around the genitalia. But since taking hormones; within the first few months my skin literally changed. Becoming soft and silky and very sensitive.

Simply being touched is enough to stimulate my senses, and the breasts have become more sensitive then my neither region. During stimulation, the euphoria seems to last for a long time...sometimes minutes to a half-hour.

Oddly, my sexuality has changed when it comes to intimacy and orgasms. As a male, we have to stimulate ourselves physically and achieve a few seconds/minutes of sexual release. But as a female, I’ve found myself not needing any physical stimulation to onset an orgasm. And it should be noted that it isn’t an isolated orgasm...it is full body.

I am starting to understand what my girlfriend was hinting at as she comes into these moments of sexual tension. It is very powerful. During my erogenous moments, all I want to do is be touched and held (which would stimulate myself). I’ve even had a few moments when these power sensations would cause me to think of sex (as a female). But those thoughts confuse me and make me feel unclean.

I think this is my brain’s way of conditioning me to womanhood, but confused about the anatomy (as my daydreams usually have we with female genitalia instead of male). Sadly, exploring this sexual transformation is something I don’t feel comfortable sharing in detail.

4) Has your attention to beauty changed from the time you were a cis-male?

A: Greatly. Prior to my HRT, I did not think that I’d be so focused on my appearance. This has been an improvement as when I was male, I did not care what I looked like. I honestly hated myself and it showed as people said I ‘looked’ mean. Although, I am one of the most tolerant people you could confront. I don’t like fighting because it is so primitive, and I tend to seek a more peaceful resolution to my problems.

At first, it was shaving on a daily schedule. I wanted to be rid of my facial hair badly. I then began shaving my whole body (besides the scalp and brows of course!). When my face failed to appear female (to my standards), Dr. Worth advised I start applying makeup to my face to conceal my facial hair and to make my face appear feminine.

5) Do you desire fuller lips?

A: Yes; having full lips in my opinion makes one ‘appear’ female. This also emphasizes lipstick color. However, I don’t want to look ridiculous! At this time, I’d like to see the philtrum shortened, but that would require surgical intervention. On January 2nd, I talked to my plastic surgeon about my lips and he believes they are full enough, just only needing to shorten the philtrum to bring the lip up to achieve a feminine appearance.

6) Has transitioning enhanced your desire to be a parent?

A: No. I have no desire to raise children in a society that punishes adults for disciplining their kids. I have seen what this generation is becoming and to say the least, it concerns me.

Personally, I have never wanted children as my life was interrupted by my failing health and I’ve never achieved financial stability. Secondly, with my health condition, it is highly unlikely I will see age 50; and it would not be right leaving the care of a child to a single parent.

Finally, I did ask my girlfriend about her opinion of having children and she is in agreement that due to my health and her psychiatric disabilities; we are not suitable genetic parents. However, we have thought of adoption if the moment arrives.

If we did adopt, I’d want a child under 1 year old. This is because I’ve seen what happens when you adopt an older child who is angry about their life they were born into.

7) How do you navigate the concept of sex while being dysphoric?

A: As David, I did not enjoy the concept of sex and lacked in the words to express why I felt this way. For the longest time, I thought the idea came from my religious upbringing, but it persisted as we grew closer. I left her very confused and unhappy. It is very rare to find a woman willing to jump in the sack before the guy!

Although I felt the sting of sexual arousal (which made me sick), I was left ashamed, unsatisfied and confused as why I could not perform as a man. Even when I wanted to be intimate, to kiss, hold and sleep together…I could not do it.

Once I started hormone replacement therapy, my sexuality seemed to kick into full drive, pushing me towards sexual liberation. I wanted to be kissed, I wanted to be touched and held. When I slept, I wanted someone there with me, holding me…intimacy became a desire.

I remember how scared I felt when I asked her to kiss and she was more then willing…we’ve waited for 12 years for this moment! Yet, I still can’t visualize ‘sex’ as a man…as a woman, possibly. But we need to build chemistry.

Although I don’t like talking about sexuality (you’ll find it rare in my blog), becoming a Trans-woman seems to have awakened my dormant sensual side. I find myself daydreaming of what it could be like after GRS and just going to bed each night held and touched. My skin…my whole body, it has changed in ways that is hard to describe.

 8) Do you believe that your brain has been feminized?

A: This is an opinionated question as even neurosciences can’t determine. I want to say yes. I am starting to subconsciously think of myself as female and adjusting my lifestyles to being female. Much of what makes females, females is cultural and family.

***

CULTURAL CHALLENGES (FOR TRANS-WOMEN)

1) Have you ever been outed for being Transgender?

A: No. I have yet to experience this embarrassment, but I am certain it will happen.

2) Have you ever been misgendered?

A: Many times. Between January 2019 to August 2019, I was constantly being misgendered when going out on the town or in the hospital.

However, my misgendering has decreased from October 2019 to now. I believe it is because I have began dressing as a female, my hair is much longer and facial features are taking on a feminine appearance.

Of all my misgendering experiences, none of them have been a challenge, most who misgender me immediately say they are sorry and continue on with whatever service they were hired to dispense.

3) Have you’ve been physically harmed because you are Transgender?

A: No. Most now seem to believe I am female.

4) Have you’ve been mentally harmed because you are Transgender?

A: Yes. Sadly, many of those who mentally harmed me were my own uncles and friends. Many did not accept my decision and have ousted me from their lives. Outside of my family and friends; I have not been placed in a mentally harmful situation. I have found that many have accepted who I have become, some happily

5) Have your family fully accepted who you are?

A: Mostly. My grandmother still stumbles with my name and sometimes uses my transgender nature against me. My mother has verbally said she is supportive of my decision, but isn’t pleased about it. My sister is the only one who is supportive, but not of any surgical intervention.

6) How do you deal with being misgendered by cis-people?

A: Typically, I’ll tell them that I am not offended; but only ask they use the proper pronouns and name from this point forward. A second offense will have me just correcting them politely and a third offense, I just ignore them as if they don’t exist. Figuring if they can’t respect me, and they are well informed, they don’t need any of my time.

7) How has been your experience with public restrooms?

A: As David, I never really considered the fear of the public restroom as I feel being Mira. There have been many times I have looked at the restroom and thought ‘Just go inside, no one will bother you!’

My first experience was at a local Shari’s restaurant in Port Orchard. I had been holding it in all night while I mixed music at a dangerous place to be a Trans, a biker’s bar! I remember thinking ‘Male or female?’ Kind of hard to be dressed as a woman with large boobs and be caught in a male’s restroom or risk a woman looking at my face at scolding me, calling me a pervert!

I went into the female’s restroom and found no one inside, so I hurried to a stall and locked myself inside…safe, but listening for the proper time to exit. When I left the stall, I did the world’s fastest handwash and out the door…I was so scared!

I still have yet to enter a populated woman’s restroom, and I’m certain that will be a unique blog post in its own!

8) If you are religious; has being Transgender conflicted with your spiritual care?

A: Yes…to an extent.

I was born Catholic and raised Lutheran…when I finally began transitioning, many of my closes church friends that I knew all my life turned away from me. I tried to attend a different Lutheran church in Allyn, Washington…but when they learned I was transgender, I was quickly shunned.

I have really never settled back into a church after my transition…but hope once I look female; I’ll return to a different congregation that will accept me as I am. And, as of lately, my old church where I grew up reached out to me, the new pastor welcoming me, understanding I am transgender and accepting me as I am. Yet, I still have not gone.

9) Do you feel comfortable answering simple questions about being Transgender by:

A)   Family: Yes. This was the hardest of all my people I came out to. Coming out to my mom was difficult as I did not want to be disowned by my own family. Family is everything to me…and I did not know how to talk to mom, my sister, grandmother or even uncles, aunts and cousins. I am comfortable about talking about my female side to them, but still leery about talking about the surgeries.

B)    Friends: Yes. If anyone that I opened up to…it was friends first. First my girlfriend and then closes friends on my Facebook account (losing about 10% of my friends).

C)    Strangers: Cautious. I’ve found that most people are courteous enough to be respectful, but I don’t get into details.

D)   Online: Yes. I have answered many questions via my Tumblr site about my Transgender experience and have also had to block a few ‘creepy’ people.

 10) What is something you loved to do that you are unable to do now as a Transgender woman?

A: Swimming. I was very active at my local YMCA’s deep water aerobics and shallow water aerobics classes. I would spend two hours swimming laps and each year attend a class to improve my swimming skills. Since HRT, my attendance at the local Y was twice this year.

I just don’t know how to dress and act while swimming. Swimming is like its own culture within a culture. I wish to dress is a female swimming suit, but first, they are rarely in my size and they would reveal my male anatomy. I’d be asking for trouble. If I wear my regular male swimming attire, I risk exposing my breasts if my outfit rises in the water.

***

LIFESTYLE CHANGES QUESTIONS

1) Have you grown your hair longer and/or modified it in the last year?

A: Yes. Prior to HRT; I only considered growing my hair only shoulder length. For a few months I found that having long hair was highly annoying and high maintenance. Since a year into my HRT, I have continued growing my hair with only one ‘layering’ trimming back in August 2019. At this time, I wish to grow my hair to the point that it touches my clavicles. I have began modifying its color from brown to blonde. I am hoping to achieve an 80% blonde with silver highlights and then dye the tips of my hair aquamarine blue.

2) Have you’ve worn makeup in the past year?

A: Yes; but I started late. I was advised by my physician to begin using makeup to hide my male blemishes (stubble). At this time, I am mainly using hues of blue, pink, yellow and silver. I mainly decorate my eyes (which is sort of pointless as it can’t be seen thanks to my male-brow) with eye shadow and highlight my cheeks to make them look fuller. I use to use foundation and primer, but I have not used those in the last two months as I don’t need them.

3) Have you’ve worn high heels in the past year?

A: No; I don’t like high heels…they are unstable and the major cause of ankle injuries. Also, I doubt they make a size 14-16 in women’s that I can buy local!

4) Have you’ve worn a skirt in the past year?

A: Yes; When I converted my wardrobe, I bought a purple skirt. I wasn’t certain about it; but love it. Since then, I own four skirts. The great thing about skirts is that unlike pants, they usually will fit nicer and hide anything ‘male’ that might give you away.

One thing that is certain! If you are going to wear a skirt, be sure to shave those legs. Another note, all my skirts go past my knees, I don’t like short skirts as they are ‘too’ revealing.

5) Have you’ve worn a dress in the past year?

A: Yes, three times. Once during an outing to Ocean Shores, again in the casino, once around the house (in Mason County) and again for Christmas morning. I also wore a dress for New Year’s Eve.

I like dresses, but you really can’t do much in them.

6) Have you’ve worn a blouse in the past year?

A: Yes, I own many blouses and they are my primary source of shirts in my wardrobe.

7) Have you’ve worn any form of bra in the past year?

A: Yes, I started wearing a bra when my back pain was becoming intolerable. I’ve been fitted with a 44C and then a 46D. I only own two bras (plunge) as they are terribly expensive!

8) Have you’ve worn any feminine undergarments in the past year?

A: Yes. I bought my first feminine undergarments in November 2019 and socks in December 2019. I have not bought any intimacy clothing as they are impractical.

9) Have you gotten your ears pierced?

A: No! I am not against earrings. I’ve seen some nice earrings out there that I’d love to wear, but I do not want to pierce my ears. I don’t like needles!

10) Have you started wearing ‘feminine’ jewelry?

A: Yes; Before HRT, I only wore a watch; now I wear a necklace. I currently have six necklaces: Mermaid Tail Necklace, Moonstone Necklace, Opal-Crystal Necklace, Abalone Necklace, Mermaid Necklace & a Aquamarine Necklace. I also wear 24/7 a moon-ring on my right hand which signifies my transition and keeps men from thinking I’m available.

11) If you had some ‘passing tips’ to offer other Transgender individuals, what are some things you do to pass?

A: The battle to pass as the opposite gender is as unique as the individual.

I have found that there is a list of things I must do in-order to pass successfully with a 20% chance of failure:

1—Clothing: How you dress will determine what people first see. Colors and patterns always attract the eye first. If you dress masculine, you’ll be perceived masculine and if you dress feminine, you’ll certainly be perceived feminine. Half of male clothing can double as female clothing, but you are putting yourself at risk if you are MtF.

Then again, don’t overdress and don’t underdress! Wear something that makes you comfortable, if you are not comfortable in your own clothing, it will show. Also, for MtF’s, be wary of patterns that might emphasize your male form.

2—Face: Your face will be your undoing as a transgender individual. For FtM, stay well-trimmed, shorten hair and lighten up on the jewelry and makeup. For MtF, stay well-shaved, style your hair and wear makeup that emphasizes your feminine features. FFS will help with the bones to open the eyes and smooth the jaw and nose (MtF) or reduce the cheeks and angle the jaw (FtM).

3—Voice: Work on your transgender voice…but don’t overstress it. If it sounds fake, it will lead to your downfall. I’ve seen videos of lovely Trans-women passing until they speak an it gives it away.

4—Confidence: If you think you are not passing; then there really is no reason to try. Most of the time when I’ve been misgendered, my confidence as Mira (believing I am a woman and not caring what any cis-individual says) has saved me from physical and emotional harm. Also, if I look conformable in my own skin, people say I seem to glow, bloom and just look beautiful…but when I’m doubting myself, my transgender nature brightly shows.

12) Have being transgender held you back from your career choice?

A: First off, I am medically disabled; so, this question can’t be answered in the way it was written. But before I began HRT, I’d say no.

If anything, accepting my transgender nature gave me the strength to pursue my career goals as an environmental educator and EMT. Before then, I only worked in dietary services…hired for my male strength and not brains. Hell, I even had a director at St. Anthony Hospital tell me I was only good for my muscles and not my mind.

As a transgendered individual; I began a new hobby…sound technology that has gotten me some uncertainty as I began as a man and ended up as a female. To be honest, they are not certain how to perceive me…even two of the vocalists refuse to call me Mira as it goes against their ideology…but I’m okay with it.

13) How is your relationship with your doctor?

A: Excellent. During my HRT, my primary doctor remained ignorant to my transgender health…I felt uncomfortable talking to him about my nature as a female (considering he wasn’t very compliant with my diagnosis of Asperger’s). He was my doctor in over 10 years! But he was David’s doctor and would not be suited to be Mira’s doctor.

So, I took a dangerous gamble. About a year into my HRT, I began searching for a new doctor that specialized in Transgender Health. I decided if I was going to become a woman, I needed a doctor I could trust and was conformable with me.

I transferred my care to Virginia Mason on Bainbridge (an hour drive away!) to have all my general and transgeneral care done. I certainly suggest that if you are transgender, find a doctor who is knowledgeable and willing to help you from the hormones to the surgery to the after years.

I know Dr. Worth was going to be a wonderful doctor for my care when she bluntly said: ‘You should know that I will not only treat you for your transgender health, but for your overall health. I will be overviewing your whole health as both female and male.’

***

COMPLIANCE QUESTIONS

1) Right now, are you complying to a feminine attire? What is it?

A: Yes. (Under shirt) A woman’s dress shirt with gold and blue embroidery (Top) A long black and white dress with swirl design patterns. Black Nylons, ladies’ garments, 44C bra and Dr. Scholl's work shoes.

2) Right now, are you in a relationship?

A: Yes; with a bisexual woman. We’ve been dating for 13 years.

3) Right now (without using goggle), write out something positive about yourself using the letters of your first name:

A: M—Mermaid I—Intelligent R—Resilient A—Admirable

4)     Please explain in your own words, your transition process and what you have gone through to transition into a transgender individual.

A: So, many people take a different path to reach their desired persona.

I actually began (attempting) transitioning in 2017, using herbal supplements which was a terrible idea. Don’t even waste your time doing this!

By November 2017, I contacted Cedar Rivers in Tacoma to enroll in their Transgender clinic and was placed on a four month wait list as they only enroll in February. By February 2018 I called once more and was given a delayed appointment because I failed to provide a transgender name (I hesitated over the phone as I was being careful as no one knew what I was doing and I wanted to have one year of hormone therapy under my belt before coming out.)

Delayed once more to May 2018, I met with one of their doctors and was started on a light dose of hormones as I only identified as genderfluid and only wanted to appear ‘remotely’ female, out of fear of retaliation from my family. However, as the hormones took effect, I would take a few pills a week and skip a week until July 2018 when I committed to the treatment.

I began estrogen in July 2018 and changed my label from gender nonconforming to genderfluid. From July 2018 to December 2018, nothing much happened.

By January 2019, I increased my dose of hormones and began to change finally. My changes were happened faster then I could photograph and with my year one coming up, Cedar River was preparing to drop my care.

I transferred to Virginia Mason in March 2019 and by April 2019, I legally switched my name and gender four month ahead of schedule.

By July, I began talking about facial feminization, breast augmentation and gender reassignment surgery with Dr. Worth, but denying consultation due to my health.

By September 2019, my breast growth made ‘not wearing’ a bra hell and I switch my wardrobe from male to female and began to separate myself from the life of David and being reborn as Mira. I finally came out to my biological family about my transgender nature and began to make amends.

October 2019, I finally scheduled an appointment with plastics to talk about facial feminization in 2020.

My last transition process was at Virginia Mason’s facial plastics clinic and after review; I was considered a candidate for surgery, but waiting on insurance’s reply…

Hypothetical Transition Process

January 2020: my first annual wellness checkup as a transgender female.

January 2020: begin referral process to plastics for breast augmentation.

February 2020: hear from Facial plastics about insurance decision.

March 2020: undergoing appeal for facial plastics or scheduling appointment for surgery.

March 2020: consultation with plastics for breast augmentation.

May 2020: check-up on facial plastics and/or breast augmentation.

October 2020: Begin talking about preparing for GRS.

November 2020: Look for a second psychologist to do evaluation for GRS.

December 2020: if facial plastics is still in appeal stage, should resolve by now.

2021: Retry FFS (or if surgery was performed, should be seeing my true face by now).

January 2021: If FFS was performed, begin breast augmentation surgery and/or start sending referrals to Oregon Health for GRS consultation.

January 2022: GRS performed.

5) Which feature of your body do you like the most since HRT?

A: My breasts…they have blossomed into something rather remarkable! It is amazing to think how at one time I could touch finger-tip to finger-tip while my palms covered my tiny nipples…now, I can’t even reach a single finger, not even with long nails!

It is hard to believe that my male chest could blossom into two womanly breasts.

6) Which feature of your body do you dislike the most since HRT?

A: I’d have to say my facial features. I don’t feel comfortable in public as my face still appears masculine. I spend the most time fretting over my facial features and if I am passing as female so I do get outed as being transgender.

7) With a New Year coming soon in a few hours; what is something you’d like to change for 2020?

A: I like to get back to swimming at the YMCA and start swimming laps. I use to spend 3-5 hours a day there and I’d like to get back at doing that. My ultimate goal is to save up my money to buy a mermaid tail and begin ‘mermaiding’. I currently have two fabric tails, but like to get is silicone tail.

8) With a New Year coming soon; what is your focus for 2020 regarding your ongoing battle with gender dysphoria?

A: Facial Feminization is a top priority with Breast Augmentation a close second. I have a FFS consultation on January 2nd 2020.

(Taken October 2019 - 18 Months On HRT)

[ineffablecolors]

THE WIFE [3/?]

The Wife || Ch 3 ~ 5.3 k || Ch 1 Ch2 || FF.NET&AO3 Summary: No one knows all that Emma has been through and certainly no one knows all that Killian has been through and being husband and wife doesn’t make them any less unknown to each other. And really, how can you help someone heal when you don’t even know how hurt they are? A/N: Do check the notes on chapter 1 Eternal thanks to @csmarchmadness - if it wasn’t for this event, I probably wouldn’t have gotten my ass in gear and sat down to actually write this thing that is now so beloved to me already. And to all the ladies in the Discord chat - you bring laughter and fanfiction into my life so you’re basically goddesses and I wanna keep you forever. Hope you all enjoy this and follow along for the rest of the journey cuz I have plansTM! :D

To her utter surprise a week is all it takes for Emma to become more or less attuned to the workings of the Jones household.

Much as she guessed the very first morning, catching Killian Jones in the midst of breaking his fast is near impossible. Every morning, by the time she makes her way down to breakfast, no matter how early she tries to rise, the table is set and waiting but any trace of the master of the house is already gone. Usually, he is just down the corridor in his study but occasionally he is already out of the house, meeting his brother for matters of business, by the time Emma – let alone Alice – takes her first sip of tea.

She notices that he makes a point of always sharing at least one meal with her and his daughter and, more often than even Alice seems to expect, he manages to make time to join them for a ride in the afternoon. Indeed, Emma tries not to let her fancy fly away from her and make her feel more important than she has a right to but she can’t help suspecting that it’s her own timidity and anxiety about riding that makes him lend his services to them, seeing as Alice is an extraordinarily accomplished rider.

Emma herself is moderately pleased with the progress she has made. In all honestly, she suspects it was more daring and youthful confidence that made her a somewhat decent rider when she was much younger rather than any proper form or natural talent. But, contrary to her own musings, both Killian and Alice assert that she appears to be a natural and, most of all, that she has managed to make Buttercup fall in love with her with merely a few words and touches, whereas Alice proclaims that Jolly will still be much happier dashing away on her own and Killian begrudgingly admits – at Peter’s ribbing and his daughter’s teasing – that it took months of time spent on his ass in the dirt for him to prove himself worthy of Roger. After a week of almost daily exercise atop her own mare, Emma feels her tailbone tingle with sympathy at the mere thought.

And yet, she has never felt more pleasantly exhausted in her life. The fresh air of the countryside all around them and the emotional and then simply physically taxation of getting back on a horse have taken their toll but she finds herself unwilling to refuse every time Alice appears in front of her with her riding clothes already on.

Perhaps this is the reason she has been unable to awake early enough to catch her husband in his morning routine but it does not serve to explain why she also has yet to see or hear him retire to bed. Aside from that very first night – that she thinks can hardly be named their “wedding night” – she has never seen Killian heading for his bedchambers.

What she has seen is that the library is not as often engaged as she first thought it might be and thus, Emma has already spent many an hour familiarizing herself with its collection and the numerous artefacts from the brothers’ travels. And still, late as she burns her candle in that room, she never manages to make it to the point when Jones – presumably – heads to bed himself. Ruby and Mrs Lucas have on a couple of occasions now asked if she needed anything and bid her goodnight before retiring to their rooms but heading to bed after her husband has proven as impossible as rising from it before him.

Finding and securing the company of his daughter is much easier and that when Alice doesn’t put some scheme of hers into action first. Emma thinks she might be on her way to unravelling another small mystery, that of Alice’s permanent residence away from her home. It takes but a day in the girl’s presence to realize that, charming as it might be, Storybrooke is much too small to contain her. Emma is rather puzzled why Alice does not go more into society here but she can perfectly perceive how the city might be calling to her after a few weeks in her family home.

A home which has proven rather favourable to Emma’s disposition despite the complete chance introduced into her life. So it is with an almost quiet resignation that Emma gasps awake long before dawn on a summer day a little over a week after her nuptials.

Her heart does its damnest to beat out of her chest and the sweat on her back makes her shiver under all the blankets but she regains control of most of her faculties almost immediately and proceeds to deepen her breathing the way she has learnt will help bring awareness of her surroundings and dissipate the dream faster. Her toes are ice-cold but her need to get up makes the bed resemble hot coals beneath her so she dresses quickly, aware that she will not be going back to sleep until night has arrived anew.

As it is, she is forced to take her candle with her, the sun not even peaking over the horizon yet as she makes her way down the stairs as silently as possible. It is only as she heads for the kitchen – her mind on a glass of warm milk – that she entertains the notion that anyone might already be awake.

“—and this girl now. What is the purpose of this?” Mrs Lucas’s voice is gruffer than usual, smudged with sleep and something else Emma cannot place through the door.

“You could be a bit kinder to her,” as for Killian’s voice, it is crisp and clear – he might as well have been awake for hours.

“And you can tell me why it is that you took her in. Lord knows, you probably haven’t told a soul. If any has asked.”

It is in that moment that she realizes herself the topic of their conversation. Perhaps, if it was more in her nature or even, if she stopped to truly consider, Emma might have lingered quietly outside a few minutes longer and gleaned some of that much coveted and hard to obtain knowledge of her husband’s private thoughts. But the sharp shove she gives the door is almost instinctive and has the immediate effect of silencing everyone on the other side.

She may have brought secrets into this house but she does not wish to accumulate new ones while here.

When she walks in, Mrs Lucas looks for all the world as if Emma has been stumbling into the kitchen at ungodly hours of the morning ever since she got here. Killian’s face, however – and Emma has quickly learnt that, for all the coldness and irreproachability that he tries to paint on it, it is a painfully expressive one – is caught somewhere between surprised guilt and uncomfortable suspicion.

But Emma’s state is still rumpled enough and her eyes not quite open enough to alarm anyone and make them believe she could have been eavesdropping.

“Well, there is certainly no need to be this early,” the cook mutters under her breath as she rolls up her sleeve and barely spares Emma a glance.

“Perhaps you should inform Ruby that the sun, as well as us, will be up before her soon enough,” Killian suggests in rebuff and Emma tries not to jump out of her way when the old woman stalks past her, grumbling under her breath that they all might as well not go to bed at all anymore.

“There was no need—“ she starts but Killian waves his hand in the air before he runs it over his face.

“She has been itching to either have it out with me or get out of this room for some moments now. Your appearance ruled rather in my favour.”

Emma nods and clasps her hands in front of her, now questioning her decision to run downstairs from her troubled thoughts. Normally, she uses any opportunity to take a peek at Jones’s inner workings but she questions her current ability for casual conversation, let alone something deeper.

“Were you looking for something?”

“Oh, I was just going to get a glass of milk.”

Killian snaps his fingers as if he should have guessed her reason for being here, already turning toward the stove and thankfully missing her slight jump at the sharp sound. Watching his back, Emma is frozen with indecision.

Far as her sleep-muddled mind planned, she would’ve found the kitchen still quiet and empty and made the drink herself. In the event of Ruby or Mrs Lucas being up already, she most certainly would’ve debated letting them get on with their work and sorting herself out. She did not account for Killian at all and her inexperience with gentlemen of his stature – let alone his manner, which seems rather singular to her – makes her uncertain of how she should proceed.

Certainly it is more befitting for her to take over any tasks in the kitchen rather than him? Yet, she does not feel herself ingrained into the household enough to take any such initiative. So instead she stays where she is and observes with interest the way he moves around the kitchen, operating predominantly with his real hand.

The missing limb seems to impair him extremely rarely when riding and, reading and writing being the other two activities in which she has mainly seen him engaged, Emma has given little thought to what she supposes is a battle wound.

Then he comes to a sudden halt and she straightens along with him, worried that he has somehow sensed, and does not appreciate, her pointed attention.

“Actually… would you like something a bit different?” Killian glances over his shoulder, his manner easy enough that Emma feels her shoulders relax as his lips quirk up the slightest amount. “I believe I already pointed out that a soldier salute is unnecessary.”

Emma frowns in confusion, her brain taking a moment to assimilate the words in the morning light that has barely appeared behind the white curtains, and then she shocks them both with a short burst of laughter. It’s a quick and slightly hysterical thing but with it she feels the last of her dark dreams disperse and drops almost theatrically in one of the hard kitchen chairs.

“Something different?”

“Mm, are you fond of hot chocolate?”

“I cannot answer that, seeing as I have never tried it.”

To his credit, a singular eyebrow expresses Killian’s disbelief before he turns back to his preparations.

“As I told your sister-in-law, sugar is one of my grandmother’s archenemies.”

“Which doesn’t say much about sugar at all with how many she must have.”

“Mrs Jones was equally witty and condemning. You must all have a frightfully low opinion of my family.”

“Rather that singular relation.”

“Well—“ she opens her mouth to say that, vile as the woman is, she constitutes the whole of Emma’s family, before she realizes that is technically no longer the case. “She did say you have a weakness for it.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Your sister-in-law. She said you also have a weakness for sugar.”

“Ah. Well, Elsa always likes to know where one’s strengths and weaknesses lie.”

“Then surely you must be flattered that is the only one she has found in you.”

“I can assure you that is not the case. But I do appreciate her choosing it as the one to expose on my wedding day. Now—“

He turns around with a pot in his hand and two cups, dangling by their handles from his little finger. Emma forces herself to remain seated, her hands in her lap and an expectant expression on her face.

Killian sets the cups down with a clatter and no saucers and starts pouring out a thick, dark liquid that makes her nose twitch with eagerness.

“A few centuries ago they used to stuff it full of spices but, as most good things, it’s best in its simplicity,” he nudges one cup toward Emma and takes his own, sitting across from her. “Though I will admit to a dash of cinnamon and vanilla.”

Emma takes the drink and gives it one more experimental sniff, despite the fact that the aroma has already made her mouth water with anticipation. She takes a small sip at first but that is enough – the warm liquid coasts her tongue in a way that simple milk could not have hoped to do – the taste and texture exquisitely rich, and then the flavours explode – teetering on the line between sweet and bitter, both smoothed and enhanced by the distinct kick of the cinnamon and the softness of the vanilla.

So focused on the sensations inside her mouth, she is quite unaware of what her face is doing, though Killian must not be because in the next second his laugh fills the gradually brightening kitchen. She would be rather offended, if it wasn’t for the fact that the sound is absolutely magnificent. That and he does seem – as is becoming usual – to delight in her reactions rather than mock them.

Emma takes another, more generous sip before she licks her lips and sets her cup down.

“Oh, you have made a believer out of me. Plain milk will never do again.”

“You should tell Mrs Lucas to increase her weekly purchase of the stuff then.”

“Me?” now she is very conscious of how her eyes widen with obvious dread of such an interaction.

“She does not actually bite,” Killian’s voice is reassuring but the glint in his eyes as he lifts his own cup to his mouth is anything but.

“With a bark like that I’m sure she does not need to.”

It’s more a snort than a laugh this time but Emma is much too distracted by the way his tongue flicks over his lips to clean them to mind.

In the golden morning light, now edging its way into every corner and crevice of the kitchen, with his jacket and waistcoat absent, his eyes flashing every once in awhile and his lips fitting themselves against the rim of his cup with obvious pleasure, Emma Jones rather likes her husband.

*****

Her knuckles pop a little as she tries to cover her yawn with the back of her hand.

“Why don’t you just go to bed?” Alice’s voice startles her – the girl has collected about a dozen cushions and pillows in front of the large fireplace in the library and is languidly making her way through The Odyssey and a pot of tea that Emma has refused to partake in. “You should know, tomorrow I will drag you out of doors, if I have to.”

Alice has certainly inherited her father’s cheek though not his preference for comfort of his own home. For it seems there is no greater offense to Miss Jones than remaining indoors on a “perfectly lovely summer day”. Indeed, on most days, Emma agrees with her with pleasure or at least without too much protest.

But the exceptionally early start of her day has left Emma both in good spirits and at the same time very reluctant to risk that pleasant, mellow feeling by quitting the house. So she showed some willfulness for the first time and postponed going to the seamstress from who they were to collect the last of her new wardrobe. Killian, receiving a substantial amount of correspondence before lunch, asked not to be bothered with such trifles and Emma hasn’t seen or heard him leave his study since. Alice was all too eager to exchange a trip to the shops for a long ride and was only temporary put out when Emma expressed her disinclination to join her.

So it is that she has spent most of her day learning the last details about the household from Ruby and going over the shopping lists – adding extra chocolate – with Mrs Lucas. Surprisingly the old woman displayed only her usual amount of annoyance in Emma’s presence and even accepted a suggestion or two she made (while declining another half a dozen, of course).

“You do not have to wait on me, I should be going to bed shortly,” Alice continues, breaking Emma out of her retrospection of her supposedly uneventful day. “And you certainly won’t be able to keep your eyes open long enough to see papa.”

“He was up early,” she replies before she can think to feign ignorance.

“He is always the first to light a candle in the mornings and the last to put it out in the evenings,” it is the first time she sees melancholy on Alice’s face, though, for a moment, something livelier and hopeful flashes through her eyes.

Emma frowns in thought – by her personal observations and calculations, it is simply impossible that Killian gets more than four or five hours of sleep.

They are silent long enough that Alice returns to her book and Emma watches the flames dancing in the fireplace – her own book abandoned on the little table beside her – and listens to the very stillness of the house. When the clock strikes 11, the fire is dangerously low and Emma is starting to feel a slight chill in the air. Alice leaves book, teacup and scattered furniture all as is and stretches her arms to the sides, declaring herself fit to go to bed. Her “goodnight” is rather pointed but her eyes are all softness and comfort and Emma stares after her for a minute or ten.

Then she jumps to her feet with a sudden burst of determination that she knows she must seize before it deserts her. A minute later she enters Killian’s study without knocking – Mrs Lucas would’ve probably dragged her out by the hair, if she had seen her.

“Why did you take me in?”

“I beg your pardon?” Killian’s head shoots up – his eyes are bloodshot from staring at the tiny figures before him under the light of a single candle. There is a half-full tumbler of golden liquid beside him but the room smells of wax rather than alcohol and Emma soldiers on.

“I know Regina was looking for a buyer and I know she didn’t expect to get half as good a deal as this. On top of the expenses of a wife, I’d wager she requested a nice commission for facilitating it all—“

“You would wager what exactly?” his voice is harsher than she has ever heard it directed at her and his scowl tells her how little he appreciates her brashness in this moment.

But she does not wish to be so tempted by answers that next time she has the opportunity to eavesdrop on some conversation, she does betray him.

“Nothing. For I have nothing. Some would say that I have ever less than a common girl and I know Regina—“

“Blast Regina. You think she was looking for a buyer?” Killian doesn’t jump to his feet the way she did earlier but the motion is somehow so powerful and full of agitation that Emma takes an instinctive step back. “Aye, that she was. And she wasn’t selling you the nice way either – quiet and private. She was getting desperate and acting like it was a bloody auction!”

She knew, of course. She knew Regina never cared for her and would sell her to the highest bidder. Her own metaphor aligns perfectly with Killian’s. And yet, hearing it from someone else’s mouth, having it confirmed that her grandmother shamelessly put her on the market like a piece of meat, makes her vision start to swim.

Emma tries to swallow around the lump in her throat and feels the tips of her nails digging into the flesh of her palm. Killian’s sharp exhale makes her vision sharpen a little as she tries to focus on him again – he looks rather stricken and she almost opens her mouth to assure him that he hasn’t really told her anything she didn’t already suspect.

“Emma, I—“ he takes a step forward then halts, looking as if he expects her to back away, and takes the next two slower, keeping his eyes on hers. “I’m sorry. I did not mean to—“

“So why did you bid?”

“What?”

She raises her chin and holds his gaze.

“If she was putting me out there like an auction piece, why did you bid?”

Killian slowly tilts his head to the side and regards her in silence and Emma tries to count her breaths so she doesn’t miss any. Finally, he sighs and hangs his head and for the first time since she barged into his study Emma feels like she has stepped out of line.

And for what?

“I will answer that.”

She blinks in surprise.

“Tomorrow. Can we do this tomorrow morning? I—“ he waves almost helplessly toward his desk and gives her a beseeching look.

“Alright.”

“Alright?”

She nods.

“But after the sun has properly risen.”

His mouth ticks up hesitantly on one side and he nods as well.

“After the sun is firmly anchored in the sky.”

“And maybe with that chocolate drink.”

“That can be arranged as well.”

“Alright.”

“Alright.”

She nods once more and turns on her heel.

“Emma. I am sorry, I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.”

She turns back and lifts her shoulders, her eyes straying from his.

“I shouldn’t have barged in here like that.”

“One offense does not excuse another.”

“Hmm. I like that.”

“It won’t happen again.”

“Alright. I am not— You are forgiven.”

She is not sure this is the proper thing to say, it comes out sounding much haughtier than she wanted it to, not at all the sentiment she was trying to convey. But the look on Killian’s face stops her from regretting her choice of words.

“Goodnight, Killian.”

“Goodnight.”

“Go to bed.”

His chuckle behind her is tired but not entirely mirthless.

*****

She makes her way down the stairs and hopes with all her might to find Jones in the kitchen again. The library, let alone his study, will certainly hold the stale feeling of late night confusion and overexposed emotions.

Truth be told, by now Emma almost regrets posing the question that has been foremost in her mind ever since she heard Mrs Lucas put it into words, if not ever since she learnt she was to marry Killian Jones. Fairly gained intelligence is all good and proper but she is not entirely sure she is prepared to receive this particular piece of it.

Finding Killian where she hoped to restores a smidge of her confidence but she is still very conscious of the fact that – were he to act like nothing happened, she will allow it. Alas, if the look on his face is any indication, if he entertained the coward’s path at all, he decided to turn away from it.

“The sun is up, as requested. Should we make use of it and take a walk?”

Emma blinks in surprise. She considered the sturdy walls and dark tones of the house more befitting the conversation before them but now feels immense relief at the thought of fresh air and an open space.

Killian pushes off the counter and hands her a cup of what she assumes is hot chocolate and Emma’s straining nerves relax a little when her hand wraps around the warm cup – this one is bigger than the one he served them in the day before, its rim is not curved and instead it has a lid that she supposes will keep the liquid warm longer. For a moment, she wonders if Killian puts this much thought into every single action, if that is why he requested a whole night before he answered a straight question. It sounds both endearing and exhausting.

He holds the backdoor for her and they slip from the kitchen, the air much crisper than she expected.

“Would you like me to fetch you a coat?”

She shakes her head, knowing she will regret it soon enough and clutching her cup tighter. Then she turns to face her husband and, in the direct sunlight, comes to wonder if he has been to bed at all. His shirt and waistcoat are different but his hair looks like it has met with his hand rather than a pillow, the lines around his eyes seem deeper, the shadow under them – likewise.

He has not taken a drink for himself and – whether for his benefit or hers she wastes no time to determine – Emma slips her free hand in the crook of his right elbow. Killian startles but settles soon enough that she decides the gesture has been deemed acceptable.

“I believe it is of no use to do things by halves. So I’ve decided to give you more information than you were probably searching for, in order to make myself quite clear.”

His voice is gruff but not unkind and her surprise at this pronouncement is genuine but not unpleasant.

“I believe Mrs Mills has been struggling to maintain appearances while her finances have been failing her.”

Emma suspected as much herself but doubts she is aware of the full extend of Regina’s presumed troubles.

“I do not wish to be crude but I… I also believe she took stock of her valuables and decided you were the one she was most willing to part with.”

“I assure you, Regina would consider it much too great a compliment rather than an offense of any sort that I am being listed among her valuables.”

Killian glances at her before quickly looking away. He seems somewhat taken aback by her blasé attitude toward her grandmother’s mistreatment but even more so by the intimacy walking arm in arm has brought. Emma is fully aware that this is the closest she has been to her husband – physically speaking, but her main focus at the present moment is how close he is about to allow her in another sense.

“Yes, well… I think her mounting frustrations made her rather careless and… desperation is never a good calling card when the object is an engagement. Perhaps it wasn’t like that at first but— Emma, I am not sure you quite understand how far removed from society I am personally and how rare it is for gossip to make its way to my ears.”

She feels the blazing heat in her cheeks despite the morning chill that has control over most of the rest of her body. It’s a long time that she has been parted with her grandmother’s good – or at least tolerant – opinion and, as for society, Emma never much cared what gossip may spread about her, seeing as most of it will be deserved and she cared little for the company of people willing to be swayed by it.

Yet the idea of what whisperings might have reached all the way to the inhabitants of the Jones household makes the knot in her stomach tighten even further now.

“I do not wish to… to interrupt but I fail to see how that has led us… here.”

Killian sighs and, likely unconsciously, tightens his arm around her own.

“For that I need to… I will have to go further back. What I meant for you to take from this is that, knowingly or not, your grandmother was destroying your reputation and any future aspirations with an alarming – frankly, almost impressive, speed.”

When she lifts the cup to her mouth, it shakes a little in her grasp and Emma tries to tell herself that if the answer to why Killian Jones brought her into his family is pity, it is not the worst answer she could have received.

“My previous wife did not hold our daughter in much higher esteem than your grandmother seems to hold you.”

The change of topic is so sudden that her neck pops a little when she twists in his direction. He glances at her – his smile is tight and dark and his steps almost cease for an instant before he resumes the brisk pace that has been keeping her from truly suffering the coldness that the sun is still working on chasing away.

“Of course, I do not pretend to know the nature of your relationship but at the very least you were allowed to remain in Mrs Mill’s presence. My wife did not allow Alice the same courtesy and send her away to school as soon as such a scheme was feasible. A-and she could carry it out without my knowledge.”

Emma bites her tongue against the barge of questions bubbling up from inside her. Why would any mother want to be parted from her child? She supposes her indignation might be finding some outlet through her eyes but Killian’s are firmly focused on the trees in the distance. She is glad for it because – even as most of her anger is directed toward a woman now in her grave, she cannot quite understand why Killian would submit to such an arrangement after it was made known to him.

“When Alice was old enough and confident enough in herself to express her wish to remain at home for longer periods of time – and received my full support of the idea – her mother adopted a new method of keeping her away.”

Killian watches their feet advancing slowly for a few seconds and Emma takes a fortifying breath.

“My daughter found herself in much the same position as you, only much earlier in her life and, sadly, there could be no question of whether her chances and reputation was being ruined on purpose or not.”

“How could she—“

Killian’s jaw tightens and Emma stops herself from finishing the question.

“I do not mean to present my conduct in a more altruistic light than it deserves, Emma. My brother and his wife were much engaged in the task of introducing me to as many ladies as a man who does not attend dances and dinners could possibly meet. And it was my hope – for whose fulfilment I do wish to express my gratitude to you – that my daughter’s age and temperament would not set the two of you at odds and that your introduction into the family will provide sufficient reason for her to remain here for some time.”

She has drawn and discarded a dozen conclusions in the span of the last quarter of an hour and for each question that has been answered in some form a dozen more have arisen, but if Emma is uncertain that she can receive any more information at present, she is quite certain that Killian cannot give any more with additional pain to himself.

And if there is one conclusion that she has drawn and put safely away as fact, it is that she does not wish to cause Killian Jones any pain.

“So how bad is it?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“How far did Regina go before you could get to her? How bad of a blow is it to be married to me?”

It is the first time since they stepped outside that Killian comes to a firm stop and she tries not to give in to the shiver and stab of pain when he lets go of her arm so he can face her.

“I am a man who has taken many blows in his life, Emma.”

The pointed motion with his wooden hand surprises her but not nearly as much as the warmth of the fingers that settle under her chin and gently urge it up.

“I can assure you, you’re not one of them.”

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[itsstickball]

Could you do a prompt about Jean going back to see his parents? I’ve always wondered what he would do!

I have lots of feelings about Jean, so this got really long. Most of it is under the cut, but really the only things you need to know is that I created a summer professional Exy league in Europe and Jean, Jeremy and Neil are all playing in Lyon, France. (All conversations are in French unless otherwise specified)

It’s been seven years since he left Evermore.

Twelve years since he last set foot on French soil.

It’s…disorienting.

The steady stream of French that washed over him as they stepped off their plane and into the CDG terminal calmed the apprehension Jean hadn’t noticed growing in him until that point.  Whatever reservations he had about joining the Euro league and playing for Lyon faded away. He was one of the best backliners in professional Exy, and France was his homeland.

Seven years was a lot of time to recover from the damage done to him by Riko and the Master, but that didn’t mean Jean’s version of friendliness was the same as the other players who’d flown with them across the ocean. He nodded or waved in acknowledgment as the majority of them dispersed to catch connecting flights or trains to other parts of the continent until it was only himself, Jeremy, and Neil Josten.

“The manager says there’s a car waiting for us at the South pickup.”

Jeremy informed them in English, breaking Jean out of his reverie. He smiled back at the striker and gestured for him to lead on. The motion earned him a blinding grin from Jeremy and a raised eyebrow from Josten. He likes to think he’s grown a lot as a person since the last time they played together on a team, but it’s second nature to roll his eyes. Josten must be thinking along the same lines because he just answers with a grin full of mischief and good humor.

Jean didn’t necessarily want to go see his parents, but they were playing in France, there’s a full week between games, and somehow Neil and Jeremy double teamed him (though with very different sets of intentions). Jeremy has always wanted good things for him, even if that means pushing him into potentially uncomfortable situations.

“What happens when we go home and you regret not taking the chance for reconciliation?”

He asked. Jeremy was safer not knowing the full extent of Jean’s leash to the Moriyamas, but he was intelligent to take note of the extra hoops he’d had to jump through just to play in the summer league. They both knew this might be the only time Jean got to be in France in a long time.

Jean doesn’t know how to tell his boyfriend that he probably won’t ever be able to forgive his parents – that he was long past needing or wanting them in his life.

“I’ll think about it.”

Jeremy looked like he wanted to say more, but pressed his lips together and nodded. That patience, the willingness to wait and accept his decisions, it was one of Jean’s favorite things about him.

In the end, Neil’s the one to convince him.

The short man didn’t smoke, not without his goalie, but Jean noticed in the few weeks they’d shared and apartment that he’d take a cigarette and just let it burn away in front of him on the balcony. The habit often coincided with Jean’s evening coffee, and they usually shared the time in relative silence.

“I disagree with Jeremy.”

Neil said once they’d both settled in for a minute or so. Though proposed out of the blue, the statement wasn’t all that odd. On the court, he had a great deal of respect and cooperation with his fellow striker, but the two had very different views on the world outside of it. It was perhaps strange that he seemed rather contemplative about this disagreement, but that could be attributed to the setting.

Jean prompted him to continue with a hum.

“I think reconciliation if too weak of a thing to hope for.”

Jean turned towards him at that, interested to hear his own thoughts echoed back so clearly. His interest furthered when Neil continued, but refrained from looking back at him.

“But, I think you should still go.”

An angrier, more raw Jean would have snapped back, huffed out his anger and then belittled the red-head for trying to understand him. Currently, Jean just took another drink of his coffee and waited. Sure enough, Josten continued, staring at the burning ember of his untouched cigarette like it held the key to the universe.

“If my mother were alive, she’d be furious with me. Everything she did was to keep me away from my father, but in the end, it hadn’t mattered. If she were here, I’d want her to look and see what became of me. I’d want her to know that I broke every one of her rules and still made it out on the other side – because I didn’t need them anymore. Before, we just survived, but now, I’m living and it has nothing to do with her.”

He went because, well, mostly because he misses Marseilles. He’s not fully healed or willing to forgive, but Neil was right. He deserved some damn closure – to be able to look his parents in the eyes and say “this is what you did to me” to be able to walk away and say “you put me through hell, but I found my way out of it.” He wanted to see his sister; to know that she, at least, got the normal life he’d been torn from.

Despite his relationship with Jeremy, Neil is the one he takes with him. As much of an asshole and a pain in his side the petit striker continues to be, Jean knows he won’t ask questions – won’t pry in an attempt to help Jean. And sure enough, he’s silent almost he whole train ride, only speaking to be an asshole about their lunch choice or point out Exy posters.

It turns out to be a good thing, having Josten with him.

He probably should have thought beforehand how unlikely it would be that his parents still lived in their little rundown apartment. Neil lets Jean take the place in silently, however and takes over interrogating the neighbors to try and find out where the Moreaus went. He follows the various leads across town while Jean stares at the city he grew up in, cataloguing what has and hasn’t changed. The crime was still heavily prevalent, multiple knives and guns flashed at Neil during their search, but he never flinched away. He found the pockets of good were still there too, though. Little sail boats dot the coast as they ride the bus alongside it, a corner bakery employee hands out free samples to children, a group of teenagers giggle until one of them asks him and Neil for their autographs.

The city was a soothing lull until Neil stoppped walking abruptly in front of him. Jean almost collided with him out of spite, but he doubted the middle-age woman working on the small flower garden on her porch would have appreciated the tussling that would have followed. Instead, he adjusted his stride to step up beside the short man just as he called out to that neighbor.

“Pardon moi, do the Moreaus happen to still live here?”

He asked, his accent having melded near perfectly over the course of the afternoon to fit the natural speakers, whereas he’d been imitating the Lyonnais for the past several weeks.

“Ah, oui.” The woman responded, nodding her head towards the stoop they had halted in front of. “Why do you ask?”

Jean didn’t know if it was a natural proclivity to suspicion or if his parents still hadn’t rid themselves of the habit of getting into business with unsavory people, but Josten smiled and waved his hand at her regardless, making up some story complaining about being given and incorrect address. It was only half-false and the woman seemed to relax.

He thanked her and then led the way up to the door. Neil came to stand a few steps behind, there for support, but not hovering. When he knocked, it was his father who opened the door.

“Jean?”

He took a moment to wonder bitterly if the man recognized him because they shared the same facial structure or if his parents had followed his story in the news. The older Moreau’s expression shuttered slightly when his gaze landed on the three tattooed into his cheek and then flitted anxiously back to Neil.

“Uh, come in, come in! Let me get your mother.”

He seemed to remember enough of himself to offer them a seat and some water. Neil accepted both, picking the armchair furthest from the others and then immediately pulling out his phone. Ordinarily, Jean would have snorted, but he appreciated the semblance of privacy.

Jean still stood when he heard his mother’s footsteps and voice coming down the hall.

“Thierry? What is it? Do we have visit- oh.”

The backliner stayed put until his mother ran out of words and steps. Only then did he tear his gaze away from the scattering of pictures on the mantle – from the small frame in the corner that showed a grinning boy holding his first Exy racquet. As he turned, the whole room seemed to fall silent.

“Hello mother.”

The words sounded odd and formal in his mouth. For a moment, he was thrown back into a media room with red and black walls a smiling psychopath breathing down his neck – ready to pounce should he misspeak. He blinked slowly washing the memory from his mind. Riko was dead.

Riko was dead and he was here.

“Je-Jean?”

His mother stuttered, lifting a hand to her mouth. Where his father had been quietly accepting, pale and meek, Nadine Moreau was all emotion. He had her to thank for his complexion and his stubbornness. He remembered that she hadn’t gone with them to the airport, but that she’d cried in his doorway the night before when he’d been pretending to sleep. He’d thought she was proud and scared that he would be playing across the ocean. He had no idea of the horror that she’d sold him into to remove her husband’s debt.

“Are you -. You’re.” She stopped and started. Jean waited for the words “I’m sorry” to come, hoping silently despite what his heart and Neil had told him. When they never arrived, and the awkward silence of his mother trying to find words as her gaze skittered across his face and frame, and his father not even doing that, Jean put them all out of their misery.

“We’re here for the summer league, playing in Lyon.” He explained, motioning politely towards Neil. “This is my teammate.”

He saw the questions flit across his mother’s face once more. Was this another boy condemned by the mistakes of his father? Turned into a champion by the horrible machine  of abuse at Evermore? Neither player moved to explain themselves or their scars – though Neil had most of the ones on his arms covered by armbands anyway. The striker did offer a polite hello before going back to his phone.

When neither parent offered anything of value, Jean continued.

“We won’t be able to stay,” He said, no regret coloring his voice. “But a friend convinced me it would have been rude not to stop by.”

At that, Neil did snort behind him – though Jean didn’t know if it was at the return of his on-court arrogance, or the oversimplification of their conversation and his conversation with Jeremy. He found he didn’t care much – though it did help to snap him out of the awkwardness that had permeated the room.

“Well,” His mother said, sad but accommodating. “We don’t want to keep you if you have other places to be. I’m sorry Amelie wasn’t here to say hello, she’s out at the university most days.”

Her words were bland, but Jean saw in her eyes that she understood that she had no right to keep him, even if she still wanted to. His father’s eyes, as he escorted them back to the door, were as blank and numb as ever. Jean almost thought, in a quiet flash of anger, to ask if they’d replaced his heart with a machine yet. Instead, he allowed his mother to place a gentle hand on his shoulder and followed Josten out the door.

“Where are you going?” He called when he saw that the striker wasn’t headed back towards the bus stop they’d come from.

“To the university.”

Neil called over his shoulder without slowing down. Jean muttered about tiny assholes and lengthened his stride to catch up. When he was once more walking beside the red-head, Josten pocketed his phone and pulled out something else to hand over to Jean.

“What -?” He stopped himself when he saw that the small slip of paper was a picture. A picture of him and Amelie. “You stole this?” He tried to sound indignant.

Neil just shrugged.

“They have about twenty, I figured they could spare one for you.”

He did not thank the shorter man. But the striker didn’t comment on the way his eyes traced the photo of the two young children reverently either, so Jean figured they were even.

The university was apparently close enough that they could walk to it, though it was definitely well into the afternoon due to their circuitous trip to find his parents’ house. Still, Neil led on, occasionally checking the map on his phone until they stood on the edge of the school’s practice football fields. Jean didn’t bother to ask how Neil knew to go there, he’d seen the picture of Amelie proudly displayed in his parents’ front hall, holding a football and an acceptance letter.

They stood there quietly at the edge of the grass, watching the girls dribble, pass and shoot the ball around. Neil seemed content to ignore him until the players took a water break, and even when he spoke, there was no real judgment in his voice.

“So how much longer are we going to stand here watching?” Okay, maybe there was a little judgment, but it seemed to stem more from amusement and boredom than anything. “Jeremy wants to know what time we’ll be back.”

He tacked on more seriously, showing Jean the text on his phone. Neither of them commented on the fact that it was time-stamped twenty minutes ago. Jean let out a huff and steeled himself to walk over to the group of women. Neil followed until they got to the bleachers and then made himself comfortable on one of the benches. Jean stopped awkwardly several feet away, drawing glances and a few whispers from the closer players. He turned to look back at Neil, suddenly unsure of himself. By either miracle, or design, the striker was already watching him. Less of a help was the single-finger salute he gave in return.

Still, it made him turn around and take the remaining few steps.

“Uh, sorry to interrupt. Is Amelie here?”

He asked, trying to sound pleasant for once in his life. A few of the girls looked at him weirdly, which given his imposing stature, strange tattoo and scars was fair. But ultimately, they called out her name and Jean caught himself craning to try and get a look at the woman his sister had become.

She was laughing and breathless, jostling her teammates as she stepped up to join them.

“What’s up?”

He knew he was standing there staring for longer than was probably polite, trying to take her in and fight down the urge to wring his hand. It was getting to the point where Amelie’s friends had told her he had asked for her and the silence had stretched to become quietly awkward. It had been so much easier with his parents, whom he hadn’t expected anything from. But now, with his sister, he felt like he was standing on the edge of a chasm, with no way to see the bottom.

“Do I know –“

“Sometime today, please, Moreau! I want to watch Kevin’s dreams for the Sharks die in real-time.”

Jean whipped his head around to glare at Neil, who didn’t even have the decency to look up from his phone to catch it. He’d spoken in English, but names translated regardless of their context and the use of his brought a reaction from the footballers. The girls around Amelie bristled, having clearly not liked that some strange, foreign man knew their friend’s name. Jean’s sister looked pensive, however, when he turned back to face them. It soothed some of the anger and panic that had boiled to the surface with Josten’s intervention and allowed him to calmly bear the weight of her gaze.

She seemed to take a deeper look this time, not just mildly interested, but actually searching. After a moment, she stepped away from her friends and reached up towards his hairline, for a notch in the pattern that had existed long before evermore.

“Jean?”

She said questioningly, like she didn’t dare believe it.

He swallowed, his mouth dry with emotion at the gentle brush of her fingers against his childhood scar.

“You kicked me in the head with your cleats, jumping off that swing.” He said in confirmation, the corners of his lips turning up just slightly at the memory of that day. Their shape became more mischievous as she pulled her hand back.

“I’m not quite sure I’ve forgiven you for it, yet.”

“Oh my god! Jean!”

Where shock had barely touched his father and had rendered his mother motionless, it spurred Amelie forward until she practically tackled him. The force probably would have taken them to the ground if Jean hadn’t had years of practice bracing against much more determined assailants.

“I can’t believe you’re here!” She said into his t-shirt. “How?”

She pulled away, just enough to look up at him.

“How are you here? They said you wouldn’t be coming back.”

“I didn’t think I’d ever be able to.” He said honestly, rubbing a hand over the spot between her shoulder blades, uncaring of the sweat stains. “I wasn’t supposed to, but,” He glanced back at Neil. “Some friends helped me find a way.”

Amelie couldn’t talk for long, they were actually practicing for an upcoming summer tournament, but it was…nice. He shooed her off with another hug and his phone number. She texted him before returning to the field. Jean heard the crunch of Neil walking through the grass to join him as he stared down at the message.

[hey big bro! I know you said you’re busy, but maybe I can visit you before you go back to the states? Go to one of those fancy games of yours or something?

“Ready?”

Neil asked once he looked back up, gesturing in the direction Jean presumed there was a bus stop.

“Yeah.”

He said, a small smile pulling at his face. The day hadn’t gone at all like he’d thought it would, but maybe there was room for both Jeremy and Neil to be right. His parents had no bearing on his life now, no place in his heart – but maybe he could carve out a little room for his sister.

[rosewinterborn]

11/11/11

I waited too long to do this, so now I have 44 questions to do. RIP. Tagged by @writersblockandapotoftea, @arwallace (I know you tagged @expositionpreposition but it’s easier to do it here!), @shit-she-wrote, and @atinydino

Cap:

Who was your childhood hero?

Honestly, probably JKR. Again, RIP.

If we didn’t start the fire, who did?

People like my dad who say “millennials” like it’s a derogatory word probably

What made you start your wip?

Reading too much Dresden Files and also looking at magic academia posts on Tumblr (Gutter Witch); Reading Eragon (Companion to Dragons); Wanting to make an open magic world (Witches Anthology); Reading too much Stucky fanfiction (Fractal); Listening to the Magnus Archives three times through in a month (CHAF3k); wanted to go on a magic adventure with my high school friends (Children of the Light)

Hogwarts house?

Gryffindor!

Star Trek or Star Wars

Star Wars, though I like both

What was your pre-teen bop?

Uhhh Taylor Swift’s whole second album

If you could have a fantasy creature as a pet, what would you pick?

A dragon about the size of a cat that could sit on my shoulder and talk to me

What’s your pet peeve?

Feeling like people are upset with me but won’t talk to me about it

Dracula or Frankenstien’s Monster?

Haven’t read Dracula so Frankenstein’s monster, I guess.

What’s the weirdest thing you’ve said to a friend?

I mean I had a conversation with two lesbians about dildos yesterday, soooo

If you had to murder someone, who would it be?

No one. I honestly don’t think I’d be able to live with myself after.

A R Wallace

Which book(s)/series would you compare your current WIP(s) to?

The Dresden Files. Though I did have someone say it was like reading a better-written Mortal Instruments. I was tickled.

Would you be willing to adapt your WIP into a movie one     day? Why or Why not?

Yes. Please. Let me see my work come to life.

What is your ‘writing ritual’? (do you make sure     you’ve made a cup of tea, sit in a particular spot, etc.)

I don’t have any particular ritual, I usually just try and seize the energy when I have it. Right now I am trying to sit at my actual desk to work, though, and during school if I had anything that I desperately needed to get done I took my ass to a coffee shop and told myself I wasn’t allowed to leave until it was done.

How much has writeblr helped you with your writing?

It helped me find a writing community that inspired me to get back to work after the depression had taken it away from me. I’m not as active on writeblr as maybe I could be, but the writing discord I found through it has been a lifeline.

If you could be one creature (real or mythical), what would you be?

A dragon. But like, one of the ones that can shapeshift. I also like being human.

Sum up your favorite WIP in one sentence

Oh god I’m supposed to have a favorite? That’s not gonna happen…

Gutter Witch: Local teens sick and tired of prophetic bullshit

Children of the Light: Estranged assholes learn to love each other again and also stop the apocalypse

Fractal: Hell on Earth in so many ways

Companion to Dragons: Girl’s asshole father sends her and her sister on a suicide mission and thinks that’s the end of it (surprise!)

Witches Anthology: literally a whole bunch of short stories so I’m not gonna try

Which of your characters is your favorite?

Whyyyyyy idk in GW probably Hunter, he’s fun to write. Overall maybe Sterling, my enby necromancer in the anthology

Which of your characters is your least favorite?

Hunter’s mother. Like honestly, every time I write about her she gets worse.

What do you believe is the most overused trope in your WIP’s genre(s)?

Melodrama.

Favorite season?

Autumn

If you could travel anywhere in the universe, where would you go?

Several places in Europe, in no particular order.

Eva:

1.     What’s the first story you remember writing?

A story about a cat and a mouse becoming friends.

2.     How has your taste in books changed since childhood?

I’ve tended a lot less towards high fantasy. I think it’s too much of an energy investment to try and understand the worldbuilding right now, whereas you can usually just jump into urban fantasy. I’ve also gotten a lot more interested in horror.

3.     Do you see any similarities to your favorite books in your work? If yes, what are they?

If I’m being real honest, most of my wips are direct rip-offs of stuff I’ve read/watched/listened to, at least in the first draft. I usually try and direct my obsessions into creative energy at some point, with differing amounts of success.

4.     What sort of music inspires you?

Stuff with strong beats/baseline and vaguely rebellious lyrics. So like, lots of Imagine Dragons and Fall Out Boy. But also trailer music like Epic Score and Two Steps from Hell

5.     Favorite book?

These are the most evil kinds of questions you guys.

I can’t think of any published books I’d call my absolute favorite, but I do have a handful of fanfics I read on at least an annual basis: War, Children, by Nonymos; To Be Vulnerable Is Needed Most of All, by perfect_plan; and Schroedinger’s Romance by lesbuchanan

6.     Favorite mythology (Greek, Norse, etc.)?

Probably Celtic? I’m really rusty on it though

7.     Dream vacation?

A long, long trip through Europe without having to worry about money

8.     Favorite writing snack?

I don’t really eat when I write because its too much of a distraction :P

9.     What tea do you drink the most while writing?

Irish Breakfast

10.  Do you have a special writing cup, that you drink tea out of specifically when writing to fill you up with inspiration?

I have a couple I’m more likely to grab, like my Night Vale Community Radio mug or my white Starbucks mug with the gold lettering

11. Write your favorite quote from your recent wip!!

Just outside the beam of light was a circle of what looked like black paint, tiny sigils scratched into it, shimmering uncannily in the dark. Wisps of that grim light drifted from the sigils to the figures at their center, dancing around Mara’s hands, clutching at Hunter’s shirt. Anywhere they touched his skin, blood seeped from a new laceration, sluggish and dark and horrible. 

“Hunter,” she breathed. 

Then she heard him. 

“Run, Cady,” he croaked. “Tell my mom...she’s a bitch.”

Ames:

1.     What’s your favorite season and why

Autumn! I love rain and also that it’s not super hot or super cold

2.     What’s your favorite food?

Bread.

3.     Who’s your favorite character in your most recent WIP?

Hunter Bishop, asshole extraordinaire

4.     Do you hide easter eggs in your writing? If so tell me a few.

Hm. If I do, I don’t consider them easter eggs, just references. Though I did have someone in my creative writing class ask if the sandwich my protagonist was eating was based on one served in one of the restaurants on campus (and he was right)

5.     Would you prefer your WIPs to be turned into a movie or tv series? (feel free to tell me about more than just 1)

Gutter Witch should just be a movie, and I’m leaning towards that for Witches as well. Fractal could go either way, though I’m leaning towards TV show. Children of the Light could go either way. CHAF3k will hopefully be a podcast at some point.

6.     If you could have a writing studio anywhere with anything in it, what would it be like and where would it be?

I like the nook I have, though I think I’d adjust the height of my desk chair and add a coffee maker and a closer bathroom so I don’t have to walk all the way across the apartment. Oh, and I’d get a massive whiteboard so I can go all conspiracy theory on my wips.

7.     What music do you listen to to get you in the zone? (the writing zone)

Trailer music! Epic Score and Two Steps from Hell. I can’t listen to music with lyrics while I try to make the words go.

8.     What’s your worldbuilding process?

Panic.

But actually, I think of the aesthetic I’m after and then try to make everything build off of that. Along the way I usually try to figure out what thing I’m consciously or unconsciously basing it off of so that I can make necessary changes.

9.     Who are your most influential authors?

JKR (sorry), Laini Taylor, Juliet Marillier, Tamora Pierce

10.  What’s your favorite kind of cookie?

French macarons

11. Give me your favorite excerpt for your recent WIP!

“I wanted to talk to Madge.”

“Madge is dead,” Hunter said, confused. 

“I’m aware,” she said. “I asked Death to take me to her, but she said she couldn’t and suggested projection instead.”

Hunter turned from the stove with the most dumbfounded expression Cady had ever seen outside of cinema. “You asked Death,” he repeated.

Cady snorted. “Yeah. I asked Death.”

“The cosmic power, Death.”

“The cosmic power, Death. We’re good friends. She comes over for tea on occasion.”

Hunter stared at her, expression halfway between disbelief and suspicion. “You’re fucking with me.”

“I’m not fucking with you,” Cady said. “Death is the whole reason I came to this Coven. She sent me here when I was thirteen.”

Hunter sank back against the counter, looking almost faint. Whatever he’d been cooking began to sizzle alarmingly. “Death has been...in this apartment.”

Cady nodded.

Not tagging anyone else on this one. I’ve learned my lesson lmao.

[lavellane]

💝💘💋💌 for duncan and nadaia 🤪

hehe thank u sm maia !!! 

i typed all of this up and then accidentally closed my tab nd lost all of it so ! sorry for the wait :))))

💝 What kinds of gifts does your OC recieve from their partner(s)? What kinds of gifts do they give in return?

so… honestly, duncan is kind essentially a sugar d*ddy dkfdjk i HATE that terminology/trope but, here we are. he loves to spoil her and he absolutely lives for showering her in gifts. i mean i guess what separates him from the trope is that nadaia isnt broke or anything, she’s fairly well off, and duncan doesn’t buy her things in order to get anything from it, so theres no manipulative element to it. mostly, he just enjoys buying her really frivolous shit she does NOT need. basically whenever he sees nadaia looking longingly at clothes, books, weapons etc he will usually end up buying it discreetly in order to surprise her later - he’s very big on surprises too ! he has also shelled out on some of her more recent tattoos, mostly because he loves her and loves the way they look on her, but also secretly because he LOVES watching how embarrassed she gets when someone asks her to explain the meaning behind her tattoos, especially the more impulsive/meaningless/stupid ones jdkjdsk

as for nadaia, she tends to go for the more meaningful presents, which are usually arcane/historical items that she picks up on her adventures. she always keeps an eye out for old relics or rare books for duncan to comb over for the next few months when she returns. also,,, duncan is an absolute varric tethras Stan, he is a complete dork about all of his books actually. so whenever nadaia is able to see him, she always tries to snag a signed copy of one of his books to bring back to duncan. he absolutely lost his mind the first time she did it, so its one of her favourite gifts to give him. 

💘 What do they love most about their partner(s)? What do their partner(s) love most about them?

duncan loves nadaia’s bravery and passion. she inspires him to constantly be better and try harder, and she’s never one for sugarcoating things which REALLY helps him, since most people do and it only serves to make him feel powerless. he loves her adventurous spirit and her ability to ask tough questions and challenge established ideas, which helps him feel more confident about doing the same. and,, i also have to mention he is super into her tattoos, he loves tracing over them and studying them - kissing them too depending on the situation,, u kno ;;;;;;;;;;;;) 

as for nadaia, she’s consistently overwhelmed by his compassion and intelligence, and his surprising warmth. on the surface he comes accross as a shy, introspective and melancholy person, she being one of the few people who can make him REALLY laugh always warms her heart. when he comes out of his shell, he is fair more confident, witty and suave than he lets on, so she appreicates how layered he is i guess lol. also ! he’s probably the least judgemental people shes ever met, and one of the only people she trusts to confide in completely. for this reason he helps her become a more empathetic person, just by listening to the way he talks about other people, and the high regard he seems to hold almost everybody in. 

💋 Who is the best kisser? (if you’d like write a short smooch scene!)

surprisingly, duncan is actually the best kisser ! tho u wouldnt know it from looking at him dsfjkfdj he’s has a lot of,, casual lovers though? so its more a matter of him having more experience than anything. anyway, he tends to be a very controlled smoocher, and holds himself back a lot, whereas what nadaia lacks in experience she makes up in with wholehearted enthusiasm lmao

💌 Write a love letter from your OC to their partner(s). BONUS: write a reply!

hehe ok so i cheated and wrote a letter from duncans sister, rose instead. but its cute i promise ! also i didnt write a reply bc this got way too out of hand oof

Lady Nadaia Lavellan,

I hope this letter finds you well, dear friend. Were this regarding any other matter, I would open with pleasantries - inquire as to how your studies are going; how you are finding your current stay in Denerim; what you think of Fereldan cheese and our abysmal weather. However, I am fortunate that we are old friends, you and I, and more fortunate still that we both hold a shared detest for small talk. So I will refrain, and hope you can forgive me for speaking my mind so abruptly.

To speak plainly, my reasons for penning this letter stem from concerns I have about my brother, Duncan. I apologize for not discussing said matters with you in person, but I sense that this is a … sensitive dillemma, one that requires discretion, if such a thing could ever exist in court.  I am aware - and albiet, pleasantly surprised - to see you and he have become rather close over the last several months. I speak for all in House Theirin when I say we are delighted to have you stay as our guest in the castle, at the behest of our future king. 

Nonetheless, I wish to share with you that I grow increasingly concerned with the odd manner in which my brother carries himself while in your presence. If I could be so bold, I do suspect that Duncan may have  … certain feelings of affection towards you, feelings I fear may cause him undue pain in the future. On more than one occasion I have caught him staring at you, while you were otherwise distracted, in ways I am afraid were most … unchaste, for lack of a better word. 

Truthfully, there have been countless incidents of late that cause me suspicion. The prince is far more distracted than normal (no small feat, I assure you) and yet seems utterly fixated whenever he shares a room with you. I have caught secret, strange smiles and even the occasional blush here and there, and what is most alarming is that he seems to be losing sleep over this - he awakens late in the day and appears fatigued, while still carrying that ridiculous smile of his as if he hadn’t a care in the world!

Lady Lavellan - Nadaia. I am confiding in you about this because you are a dear friend of mine, as you are a dear friend to Duncan, also. I believe his affections for you are harmless, and I do not mean to warn you against him or give you cause for resentment. I merely wish to ask a favour of you - to let him down easy, if possible.  Despite his misplaced affections, I have not seen my brother this happy in a very long time, and I know that you mean a great deal to him, as I am sure he does to you. Perhaps you might find a way to delicately address these feelings to him in the next few days … to clarify the nature of your relationship, so that he might better work to serve his family and his country. You are a wonderful woman, and I know he will see reason if it is coming from you.

Please do keep me informed in the coming days as to the situation, and I will eagerly await the next time our paths cross. 

With love,

Princess Roslyn Theirn of Denerim

- [ a letter from roslyn theirin addressed to nadaia da'eralen. nadaia read the letter to duncan - naked in bed with him - an hour later, absolutely beside herself with laughter. duncan promised he would better clarify the situation to his sister the next time he saw her. ]

[heyoricohannah]

Post Bar Mitzvah part 2:

Part 1:

https://heyoricohannah.tumblr.com/post/183552537466/post-bar-mitzvah-part-1-its-been-two-days

“So, do you have a last name?” Jonah asks Andi, the two of them sitting together in front of one of the computers at the library, where TJ meets up with Buffy at a nearby table for their next tutoring session.

“You’re late.” She says.

“Read the time wrong. Number dyslexia, remember?”

She rolls her eyes as he sits across from her. “And hey-before we start, I just want to say that I’m sorry you’re moving.”

“Oh please, you’ll be nothing but happy when I’m gone.”

“Oh, come on. Who else would I bring lattes to.”

This brings a quick smile out of her. “Whatever. Let’s get started.”

Back at the computer, Andi and Jonah have yet to find Walker anywhere online, but thanks to Cyrus showing up at Jonah’s request, that’ll quickly change.

“I’m here. What’s the emergency.”

“Cyrus, perfect timing.” Jonah says to him. “We’re trying to find the boy that Andi met at your Bar Mitzvah.”

“Oh...!” Cyrus is quite surprised that Jonah would help her with that. “The caricature artist?”

“Yeah.” Andi says.

“I can just ask my parents for the info. They’re the ones that hired him.”

“Cyrus, would you?” She brightens.

This conversation has distracted TJ from trying to remain focused.

“Whatcha guys looking at.” He comes up behind them.

“TJ!” Buffy stomps up beside him. “You do what I say, and I say, focus.”

“Alright, relax, Mom.” He scoffs. “Geez.”

She gawks at him in full offense as Andi, Jonah, and Cyrus stifle back their laughter.

“We’re gonna contact Walker, the boy that Andi met at the Bar Mitzvah.” Jonah shares.

“Cool I wanna meet him.”

“You’re gonna see him again?” Buffy smiles to Andi. “That’s awesome, you totally have to!”

Seeing how Buffy’s currently distracted, TJ gets Cyrus’ attention and steps away to talk to him in private.

“So I guess Andi and Jonah aren’t a thing anymore?” He quietly asks him.

“No.” Cyrus starts to smile. “I guess not.”

“Good.” TJ exchanges his grin, just before Buffy commands him over.

“TJ! Let’s go!”

Buffy and TJ didn’t get very far when trying to help him study, so after school at their one on one basketball practice, she’s ‘punishing him’ by not letting him play.

“C’mon Buffy, just pass me the ball.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did you just ask me to pass you the ball?” She gives him a smart look. “No. How does it feel now, peasent?” She turns around and scores a perfect shot, sensing him roll his eyes.

“Alright alright, fine. Here.” She grabs the ball and turns towards him, holding it out and snatching it out of his reach. “Sike!” She shoots another basket and laughs with pride, looking over and seeing that Cyrus and Jonah have walked in.

“Hey guys, what’s up.”

They come walking up to them. “How’s practice going?” Cyrus asks.

“It’s wonderful.”

“Annoying.” TJ says. “Buffy won’t let me play.” “Buffy, you have to let him play sometime.” Cyrus says.

“You have no say in this.” She points at him.

He figures that’s fair. “Jonah.” He looks to him. “How about you play a bit?”

“What?” He laughs nervously.

“You said TJ taught you somewhat,” Cyrus walks over and picks up the ball. “C’mon, show us what you got.” He passes it over to Jonah, who looks at TJ with all the fear in the world.

“Um...” He looks to the net. “Okay...”

He contemplates a bit, and after getting ahold of his thoughts, he weakly tosses the ball and misses the basket entirely.

The rest stare at him as the ball bounces and rolls over against the back wall.

“Uhhh...” TJ excuses for him. “Stage fright.”

Buffy frowns in suspicion, turning towards him. “Until I get enough practice in, how about you go work on your math problems that you failed at.”

“What, you think I can do it without your help?” He retorts.

“You can’t even do it with my help!”

He scowls, the other two frowning at her just as the coach comes entering in.

“TJ, can I talk to you?”

He glares at Buffy once more before going over to him. “What’s up.”

“I’ve been talking to the counselor, and, we’re not pleased with your grades in mathematics.”

“Neither am I.”

“TJ, as of right now, you’re failing. And until you can get that grade up to at least a C, we’re gonna have to disqualify you from the team.”

Buffy, Jonah, and Cyrus sadly watch him process the news by sulking both onto the floor and into space. His scowl is meant for her and her only.

“TJ...” She says.

“You happy now?” His jaw is clenched, whereas hers is dropped, repeatedly calling out for him as he storms out of the room.

She chases him down out in the hallway, getting him him to stop and face her.

“TJ I never said said I wanted you off the team. You’re the one that wanted me off the team.”

“Not anymore, since you’re clearly better than me anyway.”

“Is that what this is about?” She cringes. “I can help-“

“I don’t want your help with anything!” He yells. “That includes math.”

“You don’t want it but you need it.” She states. “Don’t bother.” He snaps.

“So what, you’re just gonna start being mean to me again?” She harshly accuses.

“No Buffy. As far as I’m concerned, you don’t even exist.” He says what she had said to him during the Bar Mitzvah, making sure she doesn’t dare follow along when he makes his way off.

“Yeah well you won’t have to worry about that when I’m gone!”

Her words stay with him long past the encounter.

The coach had left the gymnasium, leaving Cyrus and Jonah alone to talk things over.

“You think they’ll be okay...?” Jonah asks.

“I hope so. I just hope they’re on okay terms before she, ya know...Leaves.” Cyrus can’t look at him when he finishes.

“Cyrus I’m sorry...” Jonah apologizes. “I know how much she means to you.”

“Yeah...” He whispers, eyes staying down below.

“Cyrus...” Jonah walks over and touches the back of his shoulder, making him look up and giggle abruptly.

“There you go...” Jonah loves to see him smile. “It’s all gonna be okay. I’ll be with you all I can. Promise.”

“Thanks Jonah...” Cyrus can’t tell if he’s more stunned because he’s still touching him or because of how much he’s underestimated his kind nature.

There’s a long, comforting pause between them, until Jonah decides to change the subject. “So.” He regretfully lets go of him to walk over and pick up the basketball.

“I failed miserably at my attempt to make a basket. Let’s see you do it.”

Cyrus chuckles when he tosses him the ball. “Be warned, I’m no better.”

Jonah walks closer to him as he turns towards the basket, throwing the ball and watching it bounce off the rim before falling to the floor.

“Almost!” Jonah encourages. “Better than me.” He fetches the ball.

“TJ’s lesson not paying off?” Cyrus teases, reminding Jonah of his dishonesty which brings him down with guilt.

He nervously smiles. “Here.” He dribbles the ball towards him, swiping it away once Cyrus is about to snatch it, smirking at him and running along to the net.

“Competitive, huh?” Cyrus smiles, going after him and getting the ball from him just in time.

“That’s a foul.” Jonah teases.

“Is not!” Cyrus dodges away from him.

“Is to, educate yourself!” Jonah laughs as he goes after him, hearing him excitedly giggle as he takes the shot and makes a score.

“Oh!” Cyrus celebrates, spinning around and throwing his arms in the air, he and Jonah bursting out laughing before stepping closer to each other.

“You’re pretty good at that.” Jonah says this and makes him scoff.

“Nah, I think you’re just good luck.” Cyrus compliments, he and Jonah exchanging cheerful grins that feel never ending, until Andi walks in on them.

“Hey...” Jonah says.

“Buffy and TJ aren’t practicing here?” She asks.

“Not anymore, they, uh, had it out...” Cyrus reveals.

“No! They were doing so good!” Andi exclaims.

“Were they really?” Jonah asks.

“No, not really. But still. Ugh. They still here?”

“I dunno. We should go look.” Jonah offers.

“Can we catch up with you?” Andi asks, Cyrus already knowing that she’ll be keeping him up for a reason.

“Yeah.” He gives Cyrus a big smile before making his exit, leading Andi to look at him slyly.

“What...” Cyrus asks.

“Oh, nothing.” She smirks at him.

“Okay, whatever.” He knows she’s teasing, and they laugh quietly.

“Does Jonah really not like you anymore...?” He asks.

“Nope.” She’s sure of it. “And I wonder why that is.”

Except she doesn’t have to.

Yet because Cyrus is the way he is, the only thing he can currently do about all this is overthink.

Part 3:

https://heyoricohannah.tumblr.com/post/183568532026/post-bar-mitzvah-part-3-its-the-next-morning

[kiruuuuu]

Blitz/Rook oneshot in which Blitz is, uh, kinda dressed like this. For Halloween. Not that this excuses anything. (Rating M, humour/some sexy times, ~2.6k words) - written for @magehir 💕 and also in response to the leaked Blitz elite skin!

.

“I would just like to reiterate that it was your idea to use Monika’s prototype to heat up our sandwiches and that -” Blitz is interrupted by yet another smack to his ass from a stranger passing by. His cheeks are hurting at this point and he missed the point where he should’ve just sat down because now it’d be pure agony whereas staying upright invariably ends with more pain. He banked on their British colleagues being both more polite and prudish to actually make use of the slightly smudged writing on his lower back but it seems his hope was completely and utterly in vain. “In short, all of this is your fucking fault and if I get the chance to take revenge -”

“Loosen up and live a little, you dry sponge”, Bandit shoots back, entirely unimpressed with his fury, and deliberately makes eye contact with a bloke trying to squeeze past while simultaneously getting an eyeful of the two of them. “You can touch, but it costs extra, my dude.”

“I can offer a screwdriver right from the bar”, the guy replies and causes Bandit’s face to lighten up and Blitz’ to darken at the same time.

“Don’t give him more to drink”, Blitz pleads but is interrupted by his teammate: “Honey, for a screwdriver I’ll shove my tongue so far down your throat I’ll tickle your vocal cords.”

Normally, Halloween is Blitz’ favourite holiday. He enjoys the thrill of watching scary films, even likes picking out realistic and horrifying costumes and has developed a few rituals over the years. However, this year, all of the previously sacred components which as a whole make up a successful Halloween for him had to be scrapped all because of one of Bandit’s clever ideas. They ended up trashing IQ’s current project, unsurprisingly, and incurred the wrath of a woman who takes a lot of pride in her work and who’s usually able to control her temper. Usually.

Not this time.

The result is a curse on all who are forced to witness it, a plague on earth, an abomination which never should’ve seen the light of day, an unholy trifecta and a trinity of sacrilege. In order to make it up to IQ, they agreed on what at the time sounded like a very simple premise: she was to decide their Halloween costume for the party Rainbow would attend together with the SAS operators stationed at Hereford. Blitz should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy as soon as IQ agreed a little too readily, but back then he was too relieved to get out of the situation with all limbs intact to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Mistake. Because now he’s not only clad in the skimpiest outfit he’s ever worn in his entire life, no, it’s also an amalgamation of tulle and lace and frills and whatever any of this is called; it’s pink and exposes both his abs and half of his back, barely reaches over his ass and is topped off with intricately laced up knee-high boots sporting dangerously high heels. The objectively worst parts about all of this are twofold though: one concerns the large letters on his back written in permanent marker and spelling out Spank here with arrows pointing downwards, the other one…

Well. Never in his life has he ever felt the urge to watch Bandit make out sloppily with a nondescript Brit while wearing the sluttiest maid outfit Blitz has encountered so far but it seems that’s just what his entire career has lead to. To this moment. To yet another hand reaching out and copping a feel of his backside and him not being able to turn around fast enough to punch whoever did it in the face because he’d probably eat shit instead. Bandit rocks his pumps like a pro while Blitz attempts to move as little as possible. His feet are already killing him.

“I’m gonna throw up any second now”, he informs Bandit as soon as he’s done snogging a stranger and has started drinking the screwdriver. “Why don’t you just pick someone and disappear with them for a bit so I don’t have to watch you reapply your fucking lipstick every other minute?”

“What are you talking about?” Bandit sets his drink down on the counter next to them to whip out his small mirror to check on the state of the garishly red paint on his mouth. “I already fucked three of them. And one dude only let me blow him to get to you, just so you know.”

Okay. Alright. That is it. He’s reached maximum capacity for this evening concerning a lot of things, one of them being all the information Bandit so willingly shares when he’s past drunk – he’s already grating when sober but like this he’s positively insufferable. He’s enjoying the persona his costume enables way too much for Blitz’ taste, has posed for photos, flirts aggressively with literally everyone who doesn’t run away immediately and looked creepily enthusiastic when Jäger wrote the cursed invitation all of them bear on his back. Jäger himself, displaying a similarly short nurse outfit, has been hanging out with other Rainbow ops and is therefore mostly safe from the kind of attention lavished on Blitz – it’s not like he has anyone to hide with, however: Sledge is catching up with old friends and probably wouldn’t appreciate any interference from the porn version of Disney’s Sleeping Beauty, IQ would gloat to an uncomfortable extent and he has the vague feeling Mute would mock him relentlessly.

“I’m leaving”, he announces despite not knowing where he’s going, only knowing he needs to go somewhere else. Somewhere where Bandit isn’t.

“You’re so ungrateful, do you even know that?” This makes him stop in his tracks and frown at his amused friend. “Here I am, valiantly protecting your virtue by redirecting all those perverts’ attention to me, and how am I repaid? With disdain! Oh the humanity.”

Oddly enough, Bandit’s vocabulary increases proportionally to his ego whenever he drinks. “You tried to trade me for a shot of whisky earlier”, he replies drily before turning away for good. He swears he hears Bandit sadly mutter and it almost worked as he walks away.

The size of the party is a problem, however, and Blitz soon finds himself surrounded by people he doesn’t know, some of whom gladly endorse the message on his back whereas others manage to rope him into a conversation under the guise of wanting to be friendly. The illusion is shattered quickly when one of them asks whether he’d be up for a foursome, prompting him to keep drifting through the crowd in mild horror. Bandit has told him before that he looks almost laughably attractive (a fact Bandit still hasn’t forgiven him somehow) but he never really believed it until now. Until he’s suddenly aware of all the looks he’s getting.

“Elias!” He turns around at the mention of his name and comes face to face with a vaguely stunned Rook, probably also drunk and filled to the brim with bad ideas. “I’ve, uh, been searching for you all over. There’s something wrong with Glaz, I need your help.”

Instantly, he sobers up as if he just slept for several hours. “Lead the way.” He barely takes note of Rook’s costume which is comprised of little more than an admittedly adorable dragon onesie and doesn’t even object when the Frenchman grabs his hand tightly and drags him away. He must seem serious enough for no one to drop a remark about his outfit on the way for which he’s eternally grateful, but when Rook suddenly pulls him aside into one of the smaller men’s bathrooms, suspicion befalls him. Especially since the room is otherwise empty. And even more when Rook locks the door behind them with a deep breath.

“Glaz is fine”, he bursts out before Blitz can even say anything, “so don’t worry. But you seemed like someone who needed saving.”

Oh. He supposes Rook isn’t incorrect in that observation though it’s a little embarrassing it was this apparently this obvious. “Yeah. I kinda did.” Here, away from prying eyes and wandering hands, away from the stuffy air and the slightly suffocating presence of the crowd, he can finally breathe freely and feel a little less self-conscious about his clothes. Or the lack thereof, really. “Thank you.”

The heartfelt words are met with a timid smile accompanied by a manic stare Blitz noticed before but accredited to Rook being concerned about Glaz. This… seems to not be the case, though for some reason the young man is attempting to stare a hole into his head. “No problem. I just – I have so much respect for you and everything you do and so seeing you getting groped like that is really upsetting. You’re so much more than just a pretty face, even if it’s an extremely pretty face, but, uh, them reducing you to no more than a body to ogle at is -”, he bites his lip for a second, steadfastly refusing to break the now almost uncomfortable eye contact, “well, I’m not trying to say that it’d be a bad thing in itself if you wanted to be ogled at, but you didn’t seem like you wanted -” He trails off and Blitz realises he hasn’t blinked once since they entered the men’s. Tears are starting to form in Rook’s eyes and if he’s honest, there is some hilarity in this.

“You know, I won’t think less of you if you look, Julien”, he states gently and witnesses all the tension in Rook’s shoulder disappear at once.

“Thank fucking Christ”, he breathes and adds an even quieter holy shit as his gaze swoops to take Blitz’ costume in. Unlike some other expressions Blitz has taken note of throughout the evening, Rook’s speaks of helpless, desperate admiration and is actually quite flattering. Not only because he obviously likes Blitz as a person anyway, but also because he makes no move to touch or even comment.

In fact, his hopeless amazement is so pure that Blitz can’t help but tease him a little. “Dom really went overboard with this. He claimed Monika required us to shave everywhere but I somehow doubt it.”

Watching Rook choke on nothing is oddly satisfying. This time when his eyes travel all over Blitz’ body, it’s almost as if he can feel it like a concentrated ray of sun, kissing all his exposed (and indeed shaved) skin with a tingling warmth which lingers much longer than it should. Somehow, he doesn’t mind it coming from Rook, even welcomes the attention – Rook’s costume definitely plays into it as he looks utterly endearing, but also the strange intimacy of it, the fact they’re alone and Rook isn’t doing it to play along or crack a joke to someone amplifies the pleasant feel. It’s real, that much he knows.

“To be honest, I have no idea what’s supposed to be so sexy about men in skirts”, he continues and is about to add that seeing Bandit in one might have put him off the idea for at least a few decades, yet Rook won’t even let him finish his sentence before he chimes in, cheeks bright red.

“I can tell you: you’re fucking gorgeous already and this – this only makes it better. You might not get it, but fucking hell, I want to unlace your stupid ugly boots with my teeth.”

Oh.

Blitz’ brows rise simultaneously to Rook’s eyes widening in shock and there are a few seconds during which neither of them move a muscle. It’s definitely one of the tamest propositions Blitz has received all evening and yet it’s decidedly more forthright than all (okay, no, probably just most) of them combined because it’s meant so painfully seriously his mind immediately supplies him with the appropriate mental image. He suspected Rook to be interested in him before and this is the unambiguous proof yet where he’d normally not even consider the Frenchman (alright, another lie, he likes Rook and he likes him a lot), right now he’s… thinking about it.

And thinking right now means picturing him on his knees in front of Blitz and surely, it has to have something to do with the blasted outfit which apparently turns men into horny sluts because he literally can’t think of anything more enticing at that moment. No matter the fucking heels or the odd, cool feeling on his legs and in his crotch or his sore ass, all he can think of is giving in to Rook – who just then starts scrambling to explain himself.

“I’m so sorry, I have no idea where that came from, that’s not what I meant to say at all, I, uh, you look fantastic but you always do, but if you don’t feel comfortable wearing this you of course should take it off – I mean, not right now obviously, but you could go home to change and I’d even come along to help – fuck – I don’t mean like that, I mean I could make sure no one molests you on the way kinda like I’m doing oh God -”

And his pitiful speech dies with a high-pitched noise just as Blitz grabs one of the horns on Rook’s hood to pull him in and smash their lips together.

.

It says a lot that Rook doesn’t even seem to consider stopping when the door bursts open. Despite it having been locked, the mechanism was too flimsy to really hold against any type of weight – and some large dude reminding Blitz of Montagne slamming Bandit against it quite clearly counts as weight. “Oh fuck, it’s occupied”, Bandit mumbles against an insistent tongue and everything about the whole situation would turn Blitz off immediately if only Rook wasn’t so bloody good at this. His eyes only slide over to the sudden intrusion once, then they go back to gazing up at Blitz lovingly, longingly and with such devotion he still can’t breathe. The young man looks at him like he might literally faint should he actually be allowed to taste Blitz’ come, and not only that, his cheeks hollow out with every bob of his head, one hand is kneading Blitz’ thigh and the other playing with his (now remarkably hairless) balls and dear Lord how can anyone be this earth-shatteringly good at blow jobs?

So yes, even though Bandit and his fourth Montagne substitute saw him in a princess outfit getting sucked with abandon by an adorable purple dragon, he can’t find the energy to care, not when Rook keeps moaning around his shaft like this. It’s by far the hottest thing he’s ever experienced and not even Bandit can rain on this parade.

Even if he seems intent to do just that. “Hey, congrats, baguette, you finally did it”, he calls while herding his newest victim out of the room again, “and don’t forget – you owe me for this!”

And Blitz suddenly remembers how IQ said she’d decide on their punishment later, remembers how he saw Bandit and her together shortly before she announced her final judgement, and how much Rook seemed to look forward to Halloween despite usually not caring about it – but before he can finish the thought, Rook swallows him whole for the first time and rips a groan from his throat which makes the Frenchman’s eyelashes flutter.

He can think about this later, he decides and pushes a hand under soft fabric to bury it in Rook’s hair.