#Another man who transitioned later in life

[meowmeowmeowmeow4x]

Dark Blue Moon and the Suffering Sun Chapter 32

MASTAPOST

Samson S. Skulker. Wealthy real estate owner, noted trophy hunter.  Been on safaris in Botswana, Indonesia, India, and other countries taking big game. Guy hunted just about everything. Elephants, rhinos, tigers, elk, only to come to Elmerton Bay, just an hour away by boat from Amity Island.

It didn’t take two brain cells to figure out why. The better question was why Phantom tried to point webbed fingers at him as to the whereabouts of Danny Fenton, a move that was transparently (goddammit Dick and your puns) a lie, according to Bruce. Tim Drake slipped into the man’s more private records without even trying.

Of course, getting the data out and parsing what it meant were two very different things. But he wasn’t trained by Batman for nothing. Skulker did make cursory attempts at hiding his electronic paper trail, but cursory was absolutely not enough to keep 13-year-old Tim out, let alone his current self.

Firstly, the man absolutely hunted more exotic, more illegal creatures. That much was clear. Borrowing some of Barbara’s programmes, Tim found the man travelling to much more remote countries. His little vacations coincided with missing persons reports around the same time.

Missing metas, to be exact. Each person with a power set dangerous to themselves and others. Each person having disappeared without a trace and then never to be found again. The picture Tim was building was getting grimmer.

Secondly, the man was buying parts. Robotics parts, to be exact. Engines, weapons systems, hydraulics. Many of them sourced from Vladco, the company founded by Vlad Masters, an old college friend of Jack and Maddie Fenton, who were the parents to the missing teenager of Tim’s current case.

But Danny Fenton did not have the meta-gene, a fact Tim confirmed after yet another concerning breach of privacy. He filed that detail away for later investigating.

Tim pressed a key, letting his programmes run while he got a coffee. Oh sweet delicious coffee. He had once distilled almost pure caffeine into a syrup. It was the most horrible thing he’d tasted in his life, but the buzz kept him up all night, that was until his heart started giving out. That was less enjoyable.

What was also less enjoyable was the revving motorcycle heading into the Batcave. Two motorcycles, in fact. Just as Tim’s afternoon was looking to be peaceful and quiet.

“Don’t fucking give me that, Dickwing!” Jason called out.

“I’m fine, Jay, maybe you need to stop hovering over me like some mama bear.” Dick put down his helmet with maybe a little too much force.

Jason hopped off his own bike. “That’s bullshit and even Timbit knows it.”

Tim shrunk into the Batcomputer’s chair. He so did not want to be a part of this. He just waited for his older brothers to carry their argument out of earshot, like they had been doing regularly now. The men traded strong words with every footstep across the cave.

“Maybe I’m just a little high strung. It’s honestly nothing.”

“You literally cannot fucking say that when I saw you going full-ass Punisher five minutes ago. Like the traffickers yesterday were one thing. Those guys suck. This dude was literally just a mugger. Are you going out of your fucking mind?”

“Jason, I thought you were supposed to be the one who’s all for going full Punisher style?”

Jason groaned loudly, and then transitioned into a frustrated scream. “Do you even hear yourself?!”

The changing room door slammed shut.

That was the second argument in the last two days. If you told Tim that Mr Heads-in-a-Duffle would be lecturing the Golden Child over excessive force, he’d start working on a machine to send you back to the topsy-turvy alternate dimension you’d come from, but apparently his dimension was the topsy-turvy one the whole time. And he hated it.

Turns out Dick inherited more from Bruce than he liked to admit, including his awful coping mechanisms. And to be honest, he was way too tired to even begin to breach this subject.

He should be happy that his literal attempted murderer was going to be out of his hair for a good while, maybe even forever. But even entertaining the thought made him sick enough to avoid the topic in his head for hours, only to think about it again, and get himself sick again.

So back to Skulker it was. Joy.

It turned out his new friend Skulker had made himself a fucking Iron Man rip-off suit, capable of flight, diving, and packed to the gills with fuck-you bazookas, machine guns, and hydroplasm weapons. Hydroplasm guns that he’d sourced from the Fentons themselves, through a long and complicated chain of buyoffs.

And happy day, the man was kind enough to install cameras and microphones, and kept logs from both.

In a surprising twist, it was fiendishly difficult to hack into those logs. Tim was honestly beginning to sweat. He suspected Skulker’s friends at Vladco (namely Vlad Masters, the sleezeball. Tim never liked him at galas and this only cemented his low opinion) had some secrets that they didn’t want out.

No matter, it was only a matter of time. Tim continued typing.

And typing.

And typing.

What the hell was this firewall?! Tim pinched his arm just to make sure this wasn’t a sleep-deprivation hallucination. He could’ve sworn he’d gotten through that layer of security. It was like it was shifting itself to cover up his progress and force him to start over. Almost like it was alive.

Against the thunderous backdrop of his brothers’ clashing voices, Tim set himself on overdrive. If he could just act faster than it could correct itself, then maybe, maybe.

A plain error message informed him of the results long after he’d already seen them. Tim kicked the table for good measure. The only thing he could extract was two frames of video footage. They showed, respectively, a T-shirt and pair of sneakers that matched what one of the missing metas was wearing when they were last seen.

Was it damning evidence? Absolutely. But it also proved to him absolutely nothing that he wasn’t already suspecting, nothing that could point him in a new direction. Still, it made his stomach churn. He hoped those people would get a better second chance beyond the grave.

Maybe the fact that the data was this well-hidden at all proved something.

The locker room door swung open, his brothers in civvies and glaring at each other, trying to appear civil in front of (right behind) Tim, even though they’d literally just been shouting at each other ten minutes ago.

“Timmy!” Dick called out. “How long have you been awake?”

Tim gestured offhanded to his pile of only two used mugs. “Not long enough. I’m still working. Can you take it upstairs please?”

Jason huffed, and stalked off upstairs without a word, probably too disgusted to be in his and Dick’s presence much longer.

Dick clasped his hands. “It’s fine, Tim. Honestly. Jason and I are just having a little, err, disagreement, is all.”

“Hm.” Tim inputted another set of commands. He was starting to see why Bruce liked to say that now. Avoiding painful emotions felt so good. Dick made a pained noise.

“Well, ok. I’m just gonna head back to Bludhaven now. Say hi to Alfred for me! And contact me if you need anything!” And then he sped off.

Tim shook off the awkwardness like old clothes. Thank goodness for some peace and quiet again. Maybe that was why he was working so hard to help Bruce get the demon child back, so he could return to the status quo, and not this. This hell reality where Dick was as emotionally constipated as Bruce and Jason was the one acting as the voice of reason.

The first night when Bruce called home, the entire family was in an uproar. Dick got a pale look on his face, and was halfway about to take the Batplane and go searching for Damian himself, only for Bruce to remind him that they were all still needed in Gotham and Bludhaven, and whatever few leads there were, Bruce would pursue. It was effortlessly logical, but it was clear Dick hated it. He stormed off in a rage that Tim had only seen when Ethiopia was fresh, when he and Bruce were at their lowest.

And Jason? He got this look on his face that he’d never, ever seen before. Tim had laid awake one night just contemplating it for ages.

Actually, no. He had seen it once before. It was Tim caught Jason looking into what Bruce was doing in the months after Ethiopia. Tim had subtly hacked the phone camera, and the look Jason had then was the same as how he looked when Damian was declared missing.

Tim shook his head. It was a gruesome image, what Bruce had sent them. Damian’s clothes ripped to shreds. The ground stained with his blood. No body in sight.

A little brother who may or may not be dead, something he may or may not be glad or sick to his stomach about. Brothers who were acting like completely different people, and a monster of a man who had to be connected somehow.

A ping appeared in the corner of the screen. The government siren hunting branch appearing in Panama?

Sam Manson sat up in her bed, her body finding some way to release the dread and tension. She looked on at her phone in horror and macabre fascination in equal parts.

This had Danny written all over it. She didn’t even need to hear the anchor confirming it to know.

On the one hand, she really wanted to applaud him for fucking them up this bad. The comment section was ripping into the GiW for their actions in Panama, treating the country like it was some vassal state they could romp around in. She personally screenshotted the fucking beautiful mass car crash the GiW had gotten into trying to catch him, and saved it into her favourites folder.

On the other hand, she really wanted to slap him for fucking up this bad. This could’ve easily gone wrong. Danny what were you thinking?! They could’ve got him that time!

And finally, she wanted to yell in frustration, because they had a radio communicator there. Goddammit! If only Tucker had known, they he could’ve hacked in and they could’ve talked to their best friend and actually got an update on what the fuck was going on.

And finally, finally for real, she was so glad, because the GiW would’ve announced it on every news channel if they’d actually managed to catch him. Thank fucking goodness.

Ugh, this headache. She really needed to lie down again.

Knock, knock knock knock knock, knock knock.

Dread pooled in her stomach. “Come in,” she said, resigned to her fate.

Grandma Ida, the person she least wanted to see right now, opened the door. She was the kind of woman who never carried herself very seriously, except for in matters of sorcery, and especially when warning Sam on the dangers of her craft. Dangers that Sam had ignored in order to go all out. Now she marched into Sam’s bedroom like an executioner.

Grandma stood at the foot of Sam’s bed, scanning her closely. “I knew I smelled tinged blood.” She went up to the side, and palmed Sam’s forehead. Her hand was freezing cold to the touch. “You should’ve called me immediately.”

Sam averted her eyes. She should’ve, but she didn’t.

Her parents never failed to get a rise out of her; she rejected their notions of female beauty and social etiquette in every way, their attempts to hook her up with Tim Drake-Wayne, then Damian Wayne, and she hadn’t cowed to them or submitted since she was ten. But with Grandma’s withering disapproval, she couldn’t feel more like a child if she tried.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered.

“I warned you many times of the risks, Sammy. You’re lucky to be here, and not in the hospital or worse.”

“I know.”

Sam moved to lie on her side, facing away from Granny. Granny had questioned her decision to fight alongside Danny, but allowed it under the condition that she did so safely, and turning your body into a popping water balloon, but with blood, was so not the definition of safe.

And Danny’s fate was still in question regardless. He wasn’t able to cross Panama, and who knows what Damian was doing. What if it was all for naught?

A hand was put on her shoulder. “Did you accomplish what you were set out to do?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah.”

“And was it worth it?” Yes. Absolutely yes. Danny bled every day for this god-forsaken town of ingrates. He’d bled for her mistake six months ago.

Granny seemed to understand her feelings. She nodded, and ruffled Sam’s hair, and the tension in Sam’s body drained away.

“Then I trust your judgement. Can you sit up? I’ve brought some more medicine for you.”

Sam pushed herself against the bunched-up pillows at the headboard. Her head spun from the motion, but she was never one to let her body’s limits confine her. “Thank you, Bubbe. I love you.”

Granny passed her a brew of herbal medicine, dozens of dried spices and mushrooms brewed together into a blackened sludge that felt like knives into your tongue, but which never failed to get her feeling better. It was a leg up from what big pharma tried to pedal for ten-fold the price.

Sam lifted up the mug to her face. And, oh yeah. Nothing like bitter liquid pain to help with a migraine. She let the hot tea flow over her taste buds, pathing them in cinnamon, star anise and a million other things.

She finished her tea in one satisfying gulp, running her tongue over her teeth and scratching out the lingering aftertaste. As she put the mug down, it revealed Grandma’s face hovering right in front of her. Sam yelped in shock. “Bubbe! You gave me a heart attack!”

Bubbe smiled devilishly. “So what did you do?”

Sam’s mouth gaped open. Leave it to her Grandma to almost kill her from emotional whiplash.

“Now come on, this is a monumental moment for a budding young sorceress like yourself. Why, when I was twenty-two, I used to run with some heroic types myself. We had all sorts of hijinks together.” Bubbe cackled and clasped her hands, eyes going wispy. “My friends got a heart attack when I pulled off my own hare-brained scheme to topple the evil overlord of the week’s central command. Hah!”

“What?!” Then Sam coughed, and lowered her volume. “What do you mean ‘heroic types.’ You just told me you went to some stuffy academy and eloped.”

Bubbe shrugged. “I did do that. Must have forgotten the extra stuff.”

Sam blinked.

She moved to sit beside Sam on the bed. “We got up to a lot of fun back in the day, and a lot of pain too. I did what I did to protect those I cared for. Did you, bubbeleh?”

She held Sam’s hand with a look that reminded her just how many years Grandma had lived, and how many adventures or stories she had yet to tell, how much heartache she’d had to endure to become the woman she was now. “I projected an illusion all the way off the coast of Panama. It hurt like nothing else in my entire life, but…” She paused. “We got Phantom out. He’s safe now, I think.”

Grandma Ida nodded solemnly, the kind of understanding that Sam craved from her parents every waking moment of her teenage career.

“I don’t want this to be a regular occurrence, ok?”

“Yes, I promise. This was an extreme circumstance.”

“Good. Now, are you well enough for some meditation? It would do well to keep your soul energy flowing.”

Ok, but you have to tell me what you got up to back in the day.”

Granny chuckled, and agreed to it. Sam kicked off her covers, letting her legs get some fresh air. She was probably pushing it, but she needed to recover as quickly as possible. Who knew when she would be needed again?

Maddie Fenton kneeled in the sand. Her hands clamped down on her gun. Her knees shook. Tears prickled in her goggles.

Her baby was right there. He was so close. So fucking close. She could almost touch him, even now.

And he ran away from her. And at first her heart shattered into a million pieces, just like it had when he’d come home after his first disappearance and flinched when she hugged him.

Then she realised. He was protecting her. Some metal menace was shooting at her defenseless son like it was some kind of sick game. The monster of a man had laid fucking landmines on a public beach.

It should’ve been her protecting him.

Bruce Wayne returned to her side, empty handed. They’d scoured this entire beach. Danny couldn’t have gone far, she had thought, only for their search to turn up with nothing.

That left only one option. That her enemy doubled back after fleeing, and snatched Danny up without either her or Bruce noticing. Maddie’s heart sank. She should’ve aimed for the head.

A name pinged in her mind. Phantom had whispered it to her. Skulker.

With nary but nod, she and Bruce mounted their jet skis again.

[coochiequeens]

For a group that shouts how much they hate cops, men in dresses have no hesitancy to call the cops on women who hurt their gender feelz

By Jennifer Sieland March 9, 2024

British broadcaster India Willoughby is claiming that Northumbria Police have logged a “Non Crime Hate Incident” against Harry Potter creator JK Rowling after he reported the beloved author for “misgendering” him.

While Willoughby has long expressed his contempt of Rowling, having made hundreds of tweets about her gender critical statements over the years, the tension came to a head this week after Rowling stated that Willoughby did not “become a woman.”

On March 3, Rowling made a post in support of women’s single-sex spaces, which trans activists quickly clamored under to interrogate.

“Why should trans women be forced to use male spaces? Don’t you understand just how humiliating for us that would be? Or don’t you care?” one user questioned, to which Rowling replied: “Somebody really should have explained to you that your hurt feelings don’t trump other people’s rights, nor are women and girls validation props or comfort blankets.”

Another user, by the name of Socialist Stanley, then confronted Rowling with a gif of British broadcaster and trans activist India Willoughby, writing: “Hi Joanne, so you are saying this lady should use the men’s locker room then?!”

Rowling responded: “India didn’t become a woman. India is cosplaying a misogynistic male fantasy of what a woman is.”

Willoughby, born Jonathan, began claiming to be a woman in 2015 at the age of 50, officially becoming the UK’s first transgender newsreader. He has previously incited criticism for boasting of getting a “designer vagina,” which he said he chose from a catalogue like “going for a haircut.”

See rest of article

By Natasha Biase March 8, 2024

An off-duty bartender has been convicted of a “hate” motivated crime after shoving and misgendering a trans-identified male in the washroom of a bar. On March 6, Cassandra McIntyre was found guilty of second-degree bias crime and harassment charges stemming from a 2022 confrontation with a man who identifies as a “woman.”

According to journalist Andy Ngo, McIntyre had just finished her shift at Jake’s Place, a sports bar in Portland, when she encountered far-left activist Riis Larsen, formerly Ronald A. Larsen, in the women’s washroom. Clearly startled, McIntyre told Larsen to “get out” of the intimate space.

Surveillance footage shows McIntyre lightly pushing Larsen, who identifies as a “queer demi-binary trans woman,” after he shoved another person to cut in line for the washroom. 

See rest of article

[illnessfaker]

tw: murder, transmisogynoir

( article published feb. 24th, 2024 )

COLUMBIA, S.C. — A South Carolina man was found guilty Friday of killing a Black transgender woman in the nation’s first federal trial over a hate crime based on gender identity.

After deliberating for roughly four hours, jurors convicted Daqua Lameek Ritter of a hate crime for the murder of Dime Doe in 2019. Ritter was also found guilty of using a firearm in connection with the fatal shooting and obstructing justice.

A sentencing date has not yet been scheduled. Ritter faces a maximum of life imprisonment without parole.

[...]

The four-day trial over Doe’s killing centered on the secret sexual relationship between her and Ritter, the latter of whom had grown agitated by the exposure of their affair in the small town of Allendale, according to witness testimony and text messages obtained by the FBI. Prosecutors accused Ritter of shooting Doe three times with a .22 caliber handgun to prevent further revelation of their romance.

[...]

Doe’s close friends testified that it was no secret in Allendale that she had begun her social transition as a woman shortly after graduating high school. She started dressing in skirts, getting her nails done and wearing extensions. She and her friends discussed boys they were seeing — including Ritter, whom she met during one of his many summertime visits from New York to stay with family.

But text messages obtained by the FBI suggested that Ritter sought to keep their relationship under wraps as much as possible, prosecutors said. He reminded her to delete their communications from her phone, and hundreds of texts sent in the month before her death were removed.

Shortly before Doe’s death, their exchanges grew tense. In one message from July 29, 2019, she complained that Ritter did not reciprocate her generosity. He replied that he thought they had an understanding that she didn’t need the “extra stuff.”

He also told her that Delasia Green, his main girlfriend at the time, had insulted him with a homophobic slur after learning of the affair. In a July 31 text, Doe said she felt used and Ritter should never have let Green find out about them.

[...]

Green said that when he showed up days later at her cousin’s house in Columbia, he was dirty, smelly and couldn’t stop pacing. Her cousin’s boyfriend gave Ritter a ride to the bus stop. Before he left, Green asked him if he had killed Doe.

“He dropped his head and gave me a little smirk,” Green said.

from the HRC:

Doe’s friends and family remembered her on social media as having a “bright personality” and being someone who “showed love” and who was “the best to be around.” Another friend wrote, “If I knew Friday was my last time seeing you, I would have hugged you even tighter.”

according to NYT's article, she also worked as a hairdresser. she was only 24.

[fernandopiastri28]

sickly sweet ~ lando norris x reader

warnings: drinking, smut, pwp, angst 😬 mdni!

Lando Norris- known manwhore. When he's not in his car going 350 km/h, he chases that thrill in other things in life. Designer items, drinks, parties- women. But there's only one thing that he really wants, he craves her love- his bestfriend.

She felt a pair of sturdy arms wrap around her waist, almost suffocatingly tight. It made it hard to breathe, the paining sensation only increased by the already constricted airflow inside the crowded club. “Lan?” She murmured, her head turning each way in the hopes of catching a glimpse of her best friend. She felt woozy due to the alcohol seeping through her system and she really didn’t need to deal with an over insistent man who believed he had the privilege to her body in her current state.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Lando’s chin rested against her shoulder, his hot breath tickling her neck. Those were his arms around her, holding her body closer to him then anything surrounding the pair. “I’m here,” One of his hands travelled up to her hair, his fingers gliding through her frizzing hair. “Don’t worry,”

Sure, Lando was a naturally affectionate person, often insisting on hugging as a greeting and goodbye, or resting his head on the shoulder of absolutely anyone who was near him. He liked touch, saw it as the easiest way he could express his caring and love for others. But drunk him was another level- hands anywhere he could get them, face buried into their shoulder or neck. 

“Lan, you’re really drunk,” She giggled, pushing her slight anxiety down to her stomach as his lips started moving aimlessly against her neck. He wasn’t quite kissing there, but only because he was moving too quickly to be able to actually press his lips to a single spot. 

He grumbled, dissatisfied with her comment. “So? You are too,” Lando was sounding pissy already which only usually happened later into the night. By this point, he was usually going to go seek off some other girl to spend the night with who would fawn over his every move and beg for more.

Her head tilted back, resting against his chest slightly, “I am,” A grin played across her lips, forcing his grimace to transition into a smirk, his eyes full of pure adrenaline without a single thought behind them. “Not as much as you though,”

A nod of agreeance came from him, his hands idly moving up and down on her waist, settling on her hips for a few seconds as her body continued to aimlessly sway along with the music. “It’s difficult to be more drunk than I am- especially since you’re such a heavy weight,”

It was true, and something that Lando was incredibly envious of. He wanted her ability to pour endless drinks down her mouth, consuming absolutely anything she wanted at once and manage to feel perfectly fine the next morning, while he would find himself with a throbbing headache, next to a girl he couldn’t remember the name of. Maybe he’d never asked her though.

“Or maybe you’ve just drunk more,” She dragged a finger along his cheek. Even if she didn’t show it as much, she was certainly feeling very drunk. For once, she wanted to be like Lando, feel like him. She craved his complete confidence and how he would feel as if he was on top of the world each time a drop of alcohol entered his system.

Maybe tonight she’d finally score a man to bring home, be the one to tell Lando all about her most recent hookup instead of always being on the receiving end of hearing it from him.

But at least for right now, all of his attention was on her. He looked at her like she was one of the girls he’d want for even just a night, instead of the one he left behind each time they’d planned to go out together.

She knew full well that the way Lando treated his one night stands was far from something that she should be dreaming about almost nightly, to be the girl that woke up to the sight of Lando’s peaceful sleepy face, his dark lashes fluttering over his cheeks and his unruly curls- but she knew a different side of him. The one that was loving, that cared. The side of him that would talk in the highest of praise about the girls he did really like, and how he never once spoke ill of someone to her.  

He was different then how he came across, she knew that.

He held a bottle of some blue liquid, the spout of it resting against his bottom lip. She ogled up at him, her eyes wide and pupils huge. “Hello,” He grinned, laughing at her dopey upside down expression as she leaned against him. “You’re smiley tonight,” He teased, his hand wrapping tighter around her stomach to keep her up.

“I am smiley,” A deep sigh left her chest, her cheeks beginning to hurt from how wide her smile was stretching out. “I like your face,” She mumbled out, each syllable oozing into the next. “It’s a good face- a true one at that,” Her body wasn’t used to this much alcohol, and she was feeling any kind of shame melting away and just a desperate need to be completely honest. 

A rosy flush was almost definitely covering her face at this point, given how hot it felt to the touch. “I like your face too,” He smiled, his nose nudging against her forehead. It felt unexplainable, like a thousand bolts of lightning crashing into her all at once. “It’s pretty cute,” His thumb swiped along her chin, nudging it open so he could place the finish of his bottle inside her mouth, the glass heavy on her bottom teeth.

He tilted it up, letting it run over her tongue and pool up inside her mouth. It was near sickening sweet, likely what his mouth tasted like given how much he’d already drunk the majority of it. “Good,” Two of his fingers tapped her chin again, his other fingers clasping the neck of the bottle so it didn’t drop. She shut her mouth, swallowing awkwardly due to the angle her head was at. 

Once her mouth was empty again, her lips parted, her eyes moving up further to where the whites underneath her iris’ were even more visible. “More?’ She mumbled, her back shifting back unconsciously to steady herself against him. He granted her wish, keeping her mouth open as he hooked his two fingers over her bottom teeth as more alcohol spilt into her mouth.

“Fucking hell,” He hissed, his pink tongue darting out between his teeth in concentration. Their eyes refused to move and break contact, tension just building the longer the moment lasted. “You’re so fucking hot doing that,”

Her body got hotter at the praise, her mind short circuiting and essentially spilling out of her ears. “You’re sexy,” Her lips wrapped around the bottle, suckling on it gently as the final few drops spilt onto her tongue. 

He went silent, his eyes darting across her face as a way to memorise each curvature and feature complete. He wanted to engrave this moment into his mind for the rest of time. The bottle slid down her mouth further, her lips pursing and stretching thinner around the thickness. His mouth dropped open ever so slightly, his eyes near bulging out of his head at the erotic sight.

He was hard, undoubtedly. His arousal pressed against her ass where her dress clung tightly around. He grinded against her, desperate for some sense of contact and pressure against his ache. “ Baby ,” He whined into her neck, pulling the bottle away from her mouth to rest it against some table.  

Her heart pounded harder in her chest, feeling like it could explode at any given moment. The mix of the nickname, the desperation in his voice, the way his crotch was rubbing straight against her. “ Lan ,” She moaned, turning around so her chest was pressed against his, the silk fabric of his button up gliding against her exposed skin. “Please,” Her voice cracked with straight need.

“Please what ?” His hand settled into place against her jawline, his palm flush with the front of her neck, the slightest pressure against it. He knew what she wanted, both of their intentions so crystal clear, but he wanted to hear her say it- needed it.

“Kiss me,” Her voice was so fucking weak at that point, her expression completely wanton and eager for him. His eyes went straight to her lips where a glossy whine of the remaining alcohol coated them, making them even more red and wetter. The grip his hand had on her jaw tightened, putting her head into the perfect position for him.

His mouth moved against hers quickly, her bottom lip slotting in between hers in an almost practised manner. Her mouth parted, his tongue slipping inside the warm emptiness within seconds. Moans from her spilt into his mouth, the vibrating sensation going straight to his dick, somehow getting even harder with each movement she made against him.

One of her hands trailed up to his hair, tugging on his curls. They were so delicate in between her fingers, perfect coils wrapping around each digit. Her other hand snuck up under his shirt, the back of her hand brushing against the soft silk while her palm and finger tips explored his hardened abs. 

“More,” She begged, her nose nudging against his as their lips finally broke away. His breathing was heavy, laboured almost. Their bodies were still resting flush against each other as his left hand sat heavily on her ass, squeezing it, while his other remained cupping her face. 

“What do you want, gorgeous?” His voice was lower, breathless from making out for so long. He’d tipped his head down, his mouth close to her ear. There were so many things she wanted- she wanted to kiss more, she wanted to feel his tongue all around her mouth, she wanted to taste him, she really wanted to fix the ache in between her legs.

So with not even half her brain working to put together a proper cohesive sentence, she mumbled out the first thing that came to mind, “ Hotel ,”. Whether it was her hotel or his wasn’t important, all that mattered was for them to have a private room to stay up all night together in private. Because despite how at this point she could probably be convinced to drop down onto her knees and suck his cock right then and there without much effort from the brit- it wouldn’t look too good for an f1 driver to be receiving a blowjob in a random club in Singapore. 

Maybe his one would be nicer on the other hand, a Formula one driver would likely have been supplied a higher star hotel then some girl in law school using her own money to pay.

With one swift move, each of her legs were on either side of his waist, her thighs bracketing his hips to keep herself up. One of his arms snaked around her waist for stability as he navigated his way out of the club, avoiding anyone who was clearly trying to approach him for either a photo or an autograph. 

She buried her face in the collar of his shirt, one of her hands trying to cover her face in a last chance attempt to conceal her identity in case anyone had been filming. It was something she should’ve considered before they started making out, but she couldn’t change the past now.

The humid Singaporean air struck them the second they pushed past the entrance doors. A thin sheen of sweat collected on the back of Lando’s neck, but she was unaffected. Singapore was a consistent visit of hers so she’d become accustomed to the near unbearable heat. 

A taxi rolled up right to where they were standing and before she even had the chance to ask when he managed to book one, Lando’s mouth was on hers again. She didn’t even notice the taxi door being opened until he was arranging her on his lap in the backseat, his eyes going directly down to her breasts. He placed a soft kiss to one where some cleavage was exposed from the dress’s style, while his hand worked at kneading the flesh.

A whimper of satisfaction passed by her lips, earning a shit-eating grin from the man. He continued his ministrations, tugging down some of the fabric over her breast to kiss further down her chest. Her head tipped back, hitting against the headrest of the passenger seat. As she ground her hips harder into his, each bump of the road that the car hit just pushed his boner further against her drenched cunt through her panties, a wet patch forming on his trousers.

“Pretty thing,” He trailed his lips up her neck, her jaw, then suckling on just her bottom lip. “So fucking wet for me,” He growled, pulling her body impossibly closer to him. Part of her wished she’d been sober for this- to be able to enjoy this moment with complete clarity and be sure to remember each and every event the next morning.

The drive seemed excruciatingly long, but had only been a mere few minutes in reality. Her body had essentially moulded into his by the end of it, her legs unable to work to take her to the elevator up to his room. They didn’t need to work though, he was more than excited at the opportunity to carry her as long as he could.

And she sure as hell wouldn’t be able to walk by the end of the evening. 

The second the elevator doors drew to a close, Lando’s hand was tugging her panties to the side, allowing a finger to slide along her clit, “Good?” He nuzzled his head into her neck, kissing the smooth skin there over and over. The touch was met with a string of pleasured moans, all more beautiful than the last.

He got prepared before the doors reopened, grabbing his phone out with his keycard secured in the back of it, ready to open the door the second they arrived so he could be on top of her as quickly as possible. The grazing of his finger stopped long enough for him to unlock the door, and resumed as soon as it clicked shut.

“Lando, fuck, please,” She begged, overstimulated by all the drawn out teasing of the night. “Just finger me already,” She was at her wits end, completely ready to just touch herself if he wouldn’t take it a step further right then.

She didn’t have to do that though as he answered her prayers, sliding a thick finger into her aching cunt. A sigh of relief left her lips, her hole clenched around his finger in reflex. He carried her into the bedroom, settling her down on the bed as he hovered over her, his knees on either side of her hips as he covered her face in chaste open mouthed kisses.

The pleasure turned to a quick flash of dull pain when he removed his finger, pulling her underwear down and tossing them across the room in a drunken hurry. His green eyes widened as he stared directly at her pussy, his pupils shooting wide in lust. “Fuckk,” He sighed, “Can I.. taste?” He wasn’t sure exactly how to word the request but she granted him permission regardless. 

He shuffled down, his massive hands grasping her thighs to position them over his shoulders. She lifted her hips off the mattress so as to allow him to push the bottom of her dress higher up before his head dipped down, his nose nudging at her clit. The sensation sends a rush of slick straight to where his mouth was readily waiting.

Tentatively, the tip of his tongue licked alongside her hole to her clit, emitting a shudder and a groan from the girl. He squeezed down on her thighs, rubbing the right one with his thumb to help her calm down. “What colour?” He murmured, looking up at her from between her legs. 

“Green,” Her head tilted back, hitting against the pillow as she moaned into it. With the go ahead, his tongue repeated the motion, pulling more noises out of her throat. He began to eagerly lap at her wetness, the taste coating over his tongue as he grew more desperate to make her cum.

He had become increasingly more aware of the pain in his trousers, his neglected erection tenting uncomfortable in his too tight boxers. Squeezing one of her thighs tighter to make up for the loss of his hand, he reached his hand down to his crotch and began palming at the spot. He tilted his head down, his tongue fucking her while his nose buried into her bundle of nerves.

She was feeling so much. The way his tongue was buried deep inside her, how his nose was expertly rubbing her clit, his hands stroking the insides of her thighs where goosebumps prickled, and most of all- the way his deep emerald eyes remained staring into her soul. He lapped at her wetness like he’d been deprived of sex for years- in reality it couldn’t have been more than a month. 

He had a one track mind, always did. His only goal in life was win, win, win. And today’s prize was making the beautiful girl laying on his bed, his best friend, cum with his mouth. Determined to make that happen, and make it happen right then, his teeth grazed against her slit gently to overstimulate her. 

Sure enough, the action got her legs shaking and her back arching. “Fuck, Lando,” Her hand yanked on his hair, effectively pulling him away slightly. His eyes went wide in shock, it certainly hadn’t been the reaction he’d expected. 

“I’m sorry,” He kissed the inside of her left thigh, his hand idly tenderly rubbing her knee. “Did it hurt?” She shook her head, having to crane her neck to look down at him. His cheek rubbed against her leg, another kiss to the bend of her knee. That time he suckled the spot, hollowing his cheeks to leave a small red spot when he pulled away.

“No, no- just.. sensitive,” She had to take a few moments to breathe, her chest raising and dropping with forced effort. “You- you can go again,” It’s more of a request than a suggestion, and he took it seriously. 

His mouth returned to her heat, his tongue swiping up in a practised motion, each one met with more noises of delight and pleasure. A hand yanking his hair again signalled her orgasm, spilling into his mouth. He drew to a halt, going slower as she came down from her high so it wouldn’t ache from the abrupt ending.

He scooted up so his face was just mere inches above hers. He couldn’t even try to force back the smile that played on his face upon seeing how absolutely fucked out she was. Her half lidded eyes, bitten lips, sweaty skin- it was truly a sight. He kissed her, over and over, wanting nothing more than to experience the pressure of her mouth on his.

As he kept his lips on hers, he began tugging down the top of her dress to reveal her strapless bra, one of his hands moved underneath her back, his fingers toying with the clasp of her bra before snapping it open. His fingers inched the thick fabric away, the pads of his fingers grazing along her bare chest. “I’m surprised it took you so long to get that off,” She snickered, “Thought you’d wanna see my boobs first thing,” Lando felt a wave of shame rush over him, drowning in embarrassment of her comment. 

He puffed hot air up onto his top lip, a slight snarl twisting his lips. “Is that how I make you feel? Like all I want from you is your body?” His tone was harsh, piercing her skin and leaving a mark. Her expression shifted from her drunken daze to somewhat more alert. The sting behind his tone was solely just a cover for his genuine hurt, unbeknownst to her.

“No, no, Lans..” Her hand cupped his cheek, her voice softening as she said it. “I’m sorry baby, I didn’t mean it like that at all,” She angled for a kiss, receiving one almost immediately as he was an absolute sucker for an apology kiss. “If anything that’s more me, I was the one begging for you earlier,” That soothed his nerves, his mood switching back to aiming for pleasure.

He sat back on his heels as she shuffled her legs closer to her, her knees bending up towards the ceiling while still straightened enough to allow them to keep their eye contact. Lando bit his bottom lip, a cheeky grin sneaking out through it. “Sex?” He finally asked, watching her expression turn to match his. 

She leaned forward, hands tangling up in the fabric of his button up. Within seconds it had joined her panties somewhere flung mindlessly across the floor. Her fingers massaged into the groves of his back muscles, relishing in how each one ripples with each sudden movement he makes.

His fingers clasped around the zip of her dress, pulling it down tantalisingly slowly. With each bit of skin that was further revealed, his lips peppered kisses down her body. Her eyes fluttered shut, lost in the pleasure and an overwhelming feeling of ‘ oh god, finally’. As she felt the last of her dress removed and likely joined the other discarded clothes, Lando let out a short breath of exhilaration.

His nose nudged her neck, lips focused on her collarbones. “Open your eyes,” He grumbled, his thumbs kneading into her waist. “Want you to see this, pretty thing,” Her eyelids were heavier than ever so opening them felt like a chore. 

A flush of wetness streamed straight to her core as she felt him rocking his hips against her cunt. With a flurry of hands and mouths on eachother, she tucked her fingers into his boxer’s waistband and shoved them down, his hardened cock smacking up to hit his stomach.

Her eyes practically turned black as her pupils grew beyond a size Lando deemed possible. “Happy?” A finger slid back inside her like it had been before, moving in and out before realising she’s definitely ready enough for a second one. 

“Horny,” His free hand tightened in place over her hips, lifting up to help his digits reach further into her. He ignored her clit, wanting her to finish for a second time when he was actually inside her.

The head of his cock was reddened and had drops of pre-cum lining all over it. He removed his fingers from inside of her, met with a groan of discomfort, and moved that hand to wrap around his aching shaft. “I needa fuck you right now,” Lando grumbled, his hand stroking his throbbing cock a few times before meeting her eyes, seeing only pure lust and want.

His hands gripped her legs, pulling them apart and locking them to wrap around his waist. One hand returned back to his dick, guiding it into her dripping hole. A gasp was punched from her throat as he got close to bottoming out. She was full, insanely full, as if he was to leave right then she wouldn’t have been a complete woman without him inside her.

Admittedly, there was definitely a fair amount of pain that accompanies the intrusion, but it doesn’t come close to the overwhelming pleasure. “Colour?” His voice was thick as he moved in and out of her with renewed energy.

“Green,” 

Lando went faster and deeper. 

“Greener,” Her expression was dazed and dopey as she looked up at him, her lips lax as she tried to express that she wanted kisses while he ruined her.

He didn’t get the hint, just pushed her legs further up and went quicker.

He finished first and she followed quickly after. He collapsed on top of her in an exhausted pile of a mess, his breathing heavy and manual. “That was so fucking good,” Her eyes trailed up to the ceiling, a sort of emptiness filling the void. She wished he would shut up as he kept rambling on about how pretty she was and how perfect tonight had been. Post sex clarity set in, and hit hard.

Because not only did she just hook up with an f1 driver in a random country, that driver was the man that had been her best friend for years and was a known manwhore. “I love you,” He mumbled, his hand playing with her hair. “Always have, for fucking years I’ve loved you” She didn’t hear him though, his mouth muffled with a blanket in front of it and her ears covered by her pillow.

He fell asleep with his body half on top of her, his arm draped across her chest. Of course he wasn’t the type to practise aftercare. She wiggled out from underneath him, her eyes rimmed with exhaustion and the desperate need for sleep. As soon as her feet hit the plush cushioning of the carpet and the city lights of Singapore nightlife illuminated her face, she realised the grim mistake she’d made.

So with that, she picked her bra and underwear up off the floor, nicking a pair of his smallest shorts and an oversized McLaren hoodie, wrapped herself up in those clothes and headed downstairs to the lobby, calling a taxi to her own account despite how the receptionist said the charge could go to the room she’d stayed in- to Lando.

Even though he had plenty of money to his name and on his card, and how a fifteen dollar taxi would hardly be noticed- she didn’t want to feel an obligation to him to pay him back for this. She needed clarity and space, and feeling like she owed him wouldn’t allow that. 

With a quick text sent to him, ‘ thanks for tonight, don’t think we should do it again,’ she stepped into her taxi and headed to her own hotel, showering his touch off under scalding water.

The next morning when he woke up tangled in a heap of blankets and pillow, he noticed how cold and empty the bed was. “Love?” His voice thick with sleep, his arms aimlessly reaching for her. They hit nothing though, he was alone in his bed. 

He sat up in a panic, every single moment from the night before remembered exactly. Dancing at the club, his drink in her mouth, the look in her eyes. Back at the hotel, his hands undressing her, their mouths attached to each other’s with undoubtable passion. Him buried inside her, how she’d sounded, how gorgeous she’d looked underneath him.

He’d fucking told her he loved her. And now she was gone. 

The now cold bed sheets wound tighter around his body, the false feeling of an embrace not nearly enough to heal the hurt.

~ part 2 ~

[andrastepls]

A/SMR.

synop: reader lost her hearing after an explosion, simon has an idea to help her ‘hear’ him again

warnings: none i think ? canon typical violence & loss of hearing maybe knda spicy

not proofread we die like men

Adjusting to life without sound had been a trial on its own. It was something no-one really prepared for — silly as it seemed, now. Bombs and guns going off right next to a person for any amount of time was bound to cause damage at one point or another. Or, maybe, she just had shit luck.

The blast had come and gone so quickly, she had no time to react. No one did. It missed anything vital, but it had sent her rocketing into a wall; promptly breaking her arm, a few ribs, and rupturing her eardrums all in one fell swoop. If nothing else, recovery went relatively smoothly. As smoothly as it could have, at any rate, what with Soap and Gaz being absolutely glued to the chairs in the infirmary. Even getting kicked out a few times — luckily, Price and the Lt. were a little less chaotic. Be it because the medic on-site had a soft spot, or because Simon had intimidated the poor guy, he had been allowed to spend the first two nights in the infirm with her.

Being tucked away in his arms did wonders for her anxiety, but the cot was a bit small for him alone, let alone the pair of them. Blessedly, she had been given the okay to return to her own quarters after that.

A few months later, and her bones were good and well healed, but her ears were another story. The specialist kind. The off-duty kind. The waitlist was long, and going home, alone, in the quiet, sounded like her own personal hell. So, she stayed on base to wait it out.

The silence was her enemy, deafening in its lack of any and everything. She swore she could forget the music the world made in a moment without it. It was cold, void and lonely. Missing out on jokes, not ever hearing the booming shouts and laughter of the boys. Sounds she never thought she’d miss.

It didn’t go unnoticed. For all his grumbling and brooding, Ghost was terribly good at being good company. She was thankful for him, at least. Perhaps now more than ever. He was . . . oddly tentative of her. Making a point to brush a hand against her when he was near, what was previously a hovering palm near her back was now an open-handed reminder someone was there.

He made learning to sign feel so much easier. Subbing out some signs for military signals. A natural transition, when the other person knew how to speak it — even when he didn’t need to.

It was a kindness done solely for her benefit; a fact in which he would never admit, but she knew it to be true nevertheless.

• • •

She felt out of practice. Clumsy and uncertain of herself when he touched her, nothing like herself, and he noticed. He pulls back from her, hands curving through the space between their chests to say, “You okay?”

She swallows, looking away. Embarrassment flushes her cheeks a shade of maroon, the heat of it crawling up her neck.

“It’s not you.” she signs back after a beat, eyes finding his with nothing short of pleading in her irises, “I miss you. But the sound - ”

Lithe hands flop into her lap. She feels . . . inadequate. Incomplete. Hateful, to herself, knowing that she can’t be who he loved first anymore, “I miss hearing you.” it was a cruel thing for the universe to do to her; give her a man to fall in love with, a voice that lulled her to sleep, filled her heart, tightened her legs — and then take it away from her. Leaving her in this muffled prison.

He makes a face at that - not one of ill intent or anything of the sort - rather, one of confusion. She missed hearing him?

He never thought his voice to be something worth missing; though, he quickly understands when his mind wonders what never hearing her again would be like. His girl is quieter now, to be sure. But he can still hear her - the little noises she makes, when she hums to herself without noticing . . . among other noises . . .

There’s a moment where he stays still, only his eyes moving between the two. She’s about to lift her hands so say something else, but he promptly cuts her off by taking one of her wrists between his fingers. Encouraging her to open her hand and bringing her palm up to rest around his throat.

She pauses, wide eyes blinking between their hands and his face — that frustrating little smirk of his curling his lips upward at the corners. She can’t make sense of what he’s doing at first, canting her head to the side like a confused dog, and then, he hums. The sound vibrating against her fingers. Her jaws drops open slightly in shock, eyes locked between her hand and his mouth, wanting to say ‘again’.

Alas, he was a step ahead of her, and mumbles out her name in a breath. Feeling her name in his throat before reading it on his lips.

Hm.

A/N: i dont know its 1am !!

[catboybiologist]

Hi! I’m CatboyBiologist.

Formerly a femboy, now a trans woman just starting HRT, and a PhD student in molecular biology. I started using this online persona as a fun, shitposty way to explore gender a few years ago. I post selfies (generally sfw, but somewhat sexy, so minors and ppl who don’t like that have been warned), rambles about science, tutorials and advice from the stuff I’ve learned by being a femboy in the past, nature pictures, stuff about the ocean, my adorable grumpy little tortoise, and unsolicited opinions on random nerdy topics. Any pronouns are fine. I don’t plan to socially transition for a while, and still present as a man most of the time, so I’m used to whatever you wanna use for me (for now, I’ll update this if that changes). Please send me pictures of your pets or other cute animals in your life!

As a scientist, I’m also documenting my transition! This google sheet will be updated at least monthly. I also have additional metrics I’m keeping to myself, and pictures that go with this, but I’m not sharing them publicly yet. Keep in mind that this is just one person’s experience with HRT, and may not represent universal trends!

Adding a little something here, bc I think it was an interesting bit a writing: if you want to see me respond to a transphobe about what "biologically female" means, here's a thing I wrote about it. CW for transphobia and discussion, obviously.

Also, if any of my measurements look weird, its entirely possible I fucked up. Let me know if anything looks off!

Here’s some of my favorite pre-HRT pictures:

If you want to see more of my pre-HRT selfies, browse the “femboy” tag on my blog!

And as of this writing, I’m only 2 days after the start of HRT, so here’s a picture with my tortoise that’s technically post-HRT (but with 0 time for actual changes):

If you want to see my future post-HRT selfies, browse the “trans selfie” tag on my blog!

Also here's another really cute picture and fanart of my tortoise by @whalesharkcat:

I have affectionately given my tortoise the title of The Grumpus.

I also wrote a couple of tutorials and general vibes about being a femboy before I started HRT:

Sometimes I make shitposts of myself, I don’t take myself too seriously:

This includes the way I came out on tumblr:

And here’s an overly serious, long ramble about trans thoughts and things that I wrote shortly afterwards:

Later addition: Someone asked how I take selfies, so I wrote a quick and dirty guide with some tips on how I do so in response to their ask:

Oh yeah and apparently I was a 196 microcelebrity? I never to thought I was popular enough for that but apparently some people do 🤷‍♀️. So uh, hi 196 tags, I'm abusing you for my pinned post LOL

As for terminology, I personally do think of myself as a “man who is becoming a woman” as opposed to having always been a woman. If that doesn’t resonate with your experience, I totally get that! But that’s why I freely call pre-HRT me a femboy, while still calling post-HRT me a trans woman. I’m also keeping the blog name as CatboyBiologist for the forseeable future, because at this point, Catboy just seems like a gender neutral term to me.

I’m also trying to put together a script for a podcast regarding how studying biology influenced my perspective on sex and gender- lmk if there’s any interest in that! It’s probably gonna be way too long and indulgent but oh well.

So uh. Yeah. I don’t end these types of things well. Byeeeeee

[drdemonprince]

Your post about "transitioning to escape gender but then there's more gender" has been rotating furiously in my mind since I saw it. When I first realized I was trans at age 15, I identified as agender, but I knew I wanted to go on T and get top surgery so I decided it would be simpler to tell everyone I was a trans man and that just kind of became the truth. Now 10 years later I'm sorta starting to feel like I wanna actually be agender again, but the idea of an identity shift like that at my current age is terrifying and idek who I'd tell, or how I'd do it, and I don't think I wanna stop using he/him exclusively, and I have no idea why I'm telling *you* this other than that I'm scared to talk to anyone I know about it because it feels like somehow admitting that I was wrong about the gender I fought like hell to become, even though i don't really think that's the case I think my sense of self might just be continuously evolving... but I just wanna say you talking about having a gender shift like once every several years is helping me process this rn and feel like I'm not faking anything now AND wasn't faking anything before.

Dog i am right there with you. As a kid I always thought gender was bullshit, the coercive nature of it disgusted and scared me and I rebelled against it the best that I could. I loathed being assigned to any gender category, I never identified as a "girl", but I didn't really identify with any other category either. Puberty terrified me (and of course, it does most young people, but it felt like it would only more deeply entrench the category that I was assigned to in other people's minds, it made it more difficult to escape). I had trans friends as a teen but it did not occur to me to transition because there was really no end goal that I wanted to head toward, I just knew what I wanted to avoid and not experience. I coped mostly by degendering my body with a fairly androgynous style and way of presenting myself to the word and mannerisms, but also by starving myself which was not so great, and not sustainable. I considered transness for myself, even trying on a friend's binder and presenting masculinely at certain queer events, but it seemed to me at the time like just another way in which to obsess over gender, a foolish coercive socially constructed thing that i was trying to avoid.

In my 20s, I learned more about nonbinary people and figured that explained things pretty well. I was enamored with the transition journeys of some other trans people, largely trans women more than trans masculine ones (with some trans-effeminate faggot boy exceptions), but I still didn't want to take on all the expense and uncertainty and hassle of navigating the medical system for myself. I didn't think that the pursuit of being happy merited taking on so many risks or fiddling with myself so much. I saw it as an extravagance I didn't deserve, I guess, and I also couldn't locate a target outcome that seemed desirable enough for me. I was still dealing with an eating disorder and recovering from some trauma and didn't really think about my life in the long term. I guess I still don't, haha, whoops.

Eventually I came out as nonbinary, and nobody really gave a shit. There is a lot of useless, solidarity-breaking discourse that happens online about essentially who is "more" oppressed, binary trans people or nonbinary people, and a lot of that fight amounts to the two groups shouting about the ways in which they annoy one another without there being any cogent analysis of power and where oppression comes from (let alone how much those two categories overlap).

But I will say that being a they/them was far more difficult than being a trans guy socially and institutionally, because your identity is completely illegible to every system around you. "binary" trans people struggle under this too, but i have found there are some immense benefits to having a socially and institutionally legible target gender. nobody would fucking actually they/them me. not anyone. not even other trans people and queer people. there were no public gendered spaces for me. there were no spaces for me. there was no way to move through the medical system, professional life, and other public institutions as a nonbinary person. i was still just a cis woman in everyone's eyes. including the people who claimed to support me. and it was massively frustrating.

and so i think ultimately, i took my frustrations with not being at all able to escape coerced gendering as a nonbinary person and combined that with the affinity i do feel for queer men and the general sense of misery i was still experiencing in my life and decided what the hell, i'll round myself up to being a trans guy. i upped my T dose, i dressed more masculinely, i eventually got a super masculine hair cut that really squared off my jawline and got me gendered correctly, and i started more consciously inhabiting queer men's spaces.

and it was pretty dope. for a while. i felt the rush of having gotten away with something. when people effortlessly gendered as male i felt freed at last from the pressure to be a woman. i was no longer being coerced into being something that i was not. i had escaped the enforced category so much that people couldn't even see the history of that category being pushed onto me. there was relief.

but then. as always happens. people made little comments about my handshake being too weak for a man. the hypermasc dudes at the leather bar rolled their eyes at me and all the other effeminate dudes swanning around the bar. the people who picked me up off the apps or at the sauna would always let it slip, eventually, that they had a lot of experience with trans guys, or had most recently been dating all trans guys, and it would make me feel like a stock character to them, yet another category into which all kinds of assumptions had been projected. a type not a person. a few people said my haircut made me look like i was in the military or described me as actually masculine, which was equally jarring because it was so incorrect. people tried to affirm me by saying i was such a dude, i was such a man, i was such a fag, i was such a gay bro, pawing all over me leaving the mark of all their assumptions and oversimplifications behind. i had tried to run away from gender and there i was just BASTING all the time in everybody's goddamn assumptions about gender. trans people didn't talk about it any less than cis people did, they were just as fucking confining to be around.

it honestly feels really dirty. when people try to affirm your gender constantly and can't stop talking about it, when people look past you and see only your body, your history, or the role they have typecast you in, when people use your body as an outlet for their own gender or sexuality explorations, when they keep trying to measure every single facet of existence up into being masculine or being feminine or being toppy or bottomy or any other gendered type, it's claustrophobic.

as a trans man i tried playing this whole gender game and the second i started winning i began to feel even more disgusted with myself. it wasn't a victory or an escape, it was a capitulation. exploring with my identity and presentation has brought positive things into my life and my health has gotten better as a result, and i've made wonderful friends who, like me, are disaffected by this coercive gendering system. so i don't regret any of that. but trying to make myself legible under the existing gendered system was a fool's fucking errand. i wish i hadnt done it to myself and i wish i hadnt had it pushed onto me. to be clear, it was cissexist, binarist society that forced it onto me; even when other queer people coated me in their gendered assumptions that is obviously a byproduct of societal conditioning, and it's conditioning that ive reinforced in my own behavior and outlook toward others plenty of times too. we all do it, and we are all wronged by the existing coercive gender system.

i dont even care how i fucking identify anymore and i have no intention of changing pronouns again or anything, i'm so bored of it, i just actually want off this fucking thing. im not interested in trying to make others understand what i am anymore or in who i am even being simply categorizable, i dont want to obsess anymore over how i am perceived or to attempt engineer my appearance and mannerisms to broadcast an identity to anyone. i dont even want to fuck anybody right now at all because im so sick of how much that's a gender pantomime for people. i want off this fuckin ride man im so done.

it's kind of freeing, to hit this point of complete gender apathy, and i think it is a pretty common stage of identity development for a lot of queer people who have explored multiple identities and roles over time. there is no category that i actually am, or that anyone is, there are just the frameworks that society has given us to work with to understand ourselves, and the ways in which we flatten who we are to be able to make sense of the world using those frameworks. but who i actually am is so much more contextual and mutable than all that. i am a different person in the classroom than i am on the train platform than i am in the bedroom than i am cuddling on the couch than i am when i'm working out than i am when curled up on the floor crying than i am at a big furry convention. who i am continues to change as new people come in and out of my life and age and change and my body alters and as the weather turns. who fuckin knows man it's nothing and everything. i want to let it just be

[spacelazarwolf]

I apologize you’ve explained this before but why do you think male/female socialization is bullshit? From the way I think about it isn’t it just the fact that certain gender roles are pushed onto afab and amab people by authority figures and thus society in general to dress a certain way, show or not show emotions, forced to cover up, etc? Isn’t this a thing that happens or is there another term for it

I agree that male socialization to justify describing amab people as inherently bad is wrong though. But otherwise isn’t this an actual thing?

i've sort of touched on it in other posts, but i'll use this opportunity to try and collect all my thoughts and expand on some things i've been thinking about lately. i can't promise it'll be all-encompassing, but i'll do my best.

i think when it comes to conversations about "socialization", we're having the wrong conversation. we shouldn't be asking "how did being 'raised male/female' make this person act?", we should be asking "how was this person affected by the gender roles they were taught growing up, and how did it intersect with other parts of their identity?"

to try to illustrate this better than just a wall of text, i'm going to give some examples of "traditional" gender roles that come up a lot in discussions about socialization, and how different people might be affected by them.

"female" gender roles

must be softspoken/speak when spoken to

under white supremacy, black women are painted as aggressive (which is seen as a bad thing) while white women are painted as docile (which is seen as a good thing). how would this gender role affect a black woman differently than a white woman?

jewish women who are raised in jewish culture are generally seen as much more outspoken than the culturally white norm. how would the expectation to be "softspoken" affect them?

how would this affect trans men who are raised with this expectation, but when they transition and are put in the societal role of "man" are expected to be more outspoken? or trans women who have this gender role used against them when they try to speak up?

must focus on being a mother

to society, giving birth is one of the pillars of womanhood. how would this affect a trans man who has given birth or wants to? how would this affect a trans woman who can't?

how would this affect a black woman who deals with racist rhetoric surrounding black people having multiple children? how would it affect a black mother who is afraid of bringing black children into a world that is not safe for them?

how would this affect women who don't want children? how would it affect women who do want children, but still want to maintain their life as an individual person and not just a mother?

must be nurturing and learn how to handle others' emotions

how would this affect women of color who are frequently burdened with managing white people's emotions in conversations about race?

how would this affect all trans people, both those who were raised with this expectation and those who have this expectation put on them later in life, whose safety can be compromised by perceived "outburtsts"?

"male" gender roles

must not express emotions

how would this affect men who are racial and ethnic minorities who are trying to talk about the oppression they face and the grief that comes along with it? especially those for whom showing intense emotions is perceived as aggression?

how would this affect trans men who transitioned later in life who now have to deal with people's negative reactions to them showing the same emotions they've shown their whole life?

how would this affect trans women who were raised with this expectation, and now have difficulty expressing their emotions even though the societal role they're in now "allows" for that?

must be a breadwinner and protector, regardless of personal cost

how would this affect trans men who have different safety needs than most cis men who are now expected to put that safety on the line? (remember malte c.)

how would this affect working class men who are not paid fairly, expected to work more for less, with less benefits and protections, and then don't get to connect with their families and friends the way they might want to?

how would this affect darker skinned men of color who are already at higher risk of police violence who want to protect their loved ones from harm but know if they try the consequences could be deadly?

must not show any femininity

how would this affect jewish and east asian men who are seen as inherently more feminine because of their ethnicity/race?

how would this affect queer men whose expression is more feminine?

how would this affect trans women who are still forced into the societal role of "man"?

how would this affect trans men, who are inherently seen as feminine because of their agab, or if they don't want to present entirely normatively masculine?

particularly when it comes to trans people, depending on when we transition, our agab can have very little affect on any sort of social conditioning we receive. for me, i came out and started medically transitioning when i was 28, almost 29. my life up until that point had been profoundly affected by misogyny and sexism. growing up in a conservative town, i'd been told by the culture that i lived in that my place in the world was to have babies with a nice man, and maybe do some music on the side. i experienced medical sexism that left me disabled, educational sexism that forced me to drop out, and those things are a huge part of why i am who i am today. so it does frustrate me when people say that because i'm a man today i couldn't possibly have experienced or been affected by those things, because those experiences supposedly belong to "women" and by trying to claim them i'm somehow defaulting on my claim to my identity as a man.

i can't change what i experienced or the way it affected me. but just because i experienced one thing doesn't mean that everyone who shares my identity has to have the exact same experience, or that everyone who is the "opposite" identity of me has to have experienced the opposite. the trans boy i know who came out at age 6 is going to have a very different experience. his teachers see him as a boy, he is growing up in a more progressive and accepting community, his parents are fierce advocates for him in social and medical settings, and he is going to have a really amazing life. the kind of life all trans people should be able to have.

my life experiences will be more similar to a trans girl who came out at age 6 and experienced growing up placed in the "girl" role than they will be to the trans boy who came out at age 6 and experienced growing up placed in the "boy" role. and that, to me, is what makes trans experiences so fascinating. the trans girl might not know what it's like to get messaging about having babies being your only role in life because you have a uterus, but those messages about having babies are still going to affect her because having babies is seen as the most womanly thing you can do, and people will use the fact she can't have babies to "prove" she's not a woman. women with uteruses who are infertile often experience similar reactions, people stripping them of their womanhood because they can't carry a child. the trans boy might not know what it's like to have high school teachers speak down to you and put you in the front row so they can look down your shirt in the middle of class, but he'll still know what it's like to have people try to prevent you from transitioning because of your physical capability to have children, and what it's like to live in a world that hates you and wants to punish you for trying to "rise above your station."

every human being experiences some sort of social conditioning, because that's how humans grow and develop. we look to the world around us to try to learn how to interact with others, what society expects from us, etc. there's really no valid argument for the idea that no one experiences any sort of conditioning when they're young, because that's just not how human brains work. it's just that it's not as simple as "male vs female socialization." there are dozens of ways that intersecting experiences like race, ethnicity, ability, neurodivergence, queerness, etc. can affect the way society sees and treats you, the way society expects you to behave, and the way society enforces that behavior. it's not black and white. nothing is.

the only person who can determine how your upbringing may have affected who you are today is you. other people might be able to make observations, but you're the only one who can connect the dots. if there are things you learned growing up that you find were not healthy behaviors or were ineffectual coping mechanisms, you can unlearn them. we are always growing and changing. i've said before, socialization is something that happens to you, not something you are. no one is trapped in their 14 year old self forever.

[yutaholic]

codename: monster (M)

PAIRING: Jeno (NCT) + reader (female)

SUMMARY: your life is nothing short of idyllic. you have a perfect house, a beautiful daughter and a loving husband. there’s just one rule - never ask Jeno what he does for a living...

WARNINGS: mild language; recurring dialogue related to pregnancy and baby making; explicit sexual content

NOTES: 11k words; this is part of my villain series, beast mode

You were not a curious person. After all, curiosity killed the cat.

Growing up in Hel, you knew the best way to survive in the world’s most dangerous city was to keep your head down and never make waves.

It also helped to have a powerful husband.

Living in a penthouse apartment high above, you often watched the sunset from the wall of windows in your living room. Hel, despite its penchant for evil and debauchery, was stunning when transitioning from day into night.

But when night fell, you were not to leave the house. Ever. Though she was at her most beautiful, Hel was deadly in the shroud of darkness.

The baby in your arms cooed. You bounced her a little, turning to her with a smile and kissing her cute nose. The two of you watched the city come alive as you did each night, millions of lights of vast colors filling the skyline. You loved how they sparkled in your daughter’s eyes.

A familiar set of beeps - that of someone entering the access code and disabling the security system - made you turn on your heels. Work had kept him later than usual tonight.

“Who is that?” you asked cutely. Juno was already wriggling in your arms. She knew that sound too.

The front door opened and Jeno walked in, locking up behind him before setting his keys and briefcase on the table. The buttons of his suit were open and his normally perfect tie was gone, no doubt tucked into his pocket because he couldn’t stand the damn thing for another second.

You gasped dramatically and said, “Is that Daddy?”

Your daughter was unglued, making a dizzying array of excited noises and jumping in your arms. It was only a matter of time before she was able to rush over to him on her own two feet. Your baby was growing so fast.

Jeno grinned the moment he laid eyes on his girls and marched over to you, taking Juno in his big hands and covering her face in kisses.

You smiled as he lifted her over his head with ease and brought her down to kiss her chubby cheeks over and over again. She was giggling and squealing all the while.

Jeno gave her another kiss before cradling her to his chest and meeting your eyes. He looped an arm around your waist and pulled you close, greeting, “Hello, beautiful.”

“Hi, handsome,” you said, leaning into your husband as he kissed you.

“How was your day?” Jeno asked, stealing another kiss.

“Perfect. How was yours?”

He grimaced a little. “Hard.”

You weren’t surprised given the late hour he had finally come home. “Oh…,” you hummed softly. Then, a wry smirk played at your lips. “I’ll make it better.”

Jeno chuckled darkly. “I’m sure you will.”

You practically melted when he kissed the corner of your mouth.

Jeno carried the baby into the kitchen and set her carefully into the high chair. You had dinner hot and ready, as you always did. It was the least you could do, considering how hard he worked. Jeno would try to feed Juno whilst eating his own meal, only for you to fuss at him that his food was getting cold because he was so distracted by every little cute thing she did. 

Juno loved when he pretended the spoon was an airplane and Jeno loved spending every spare minute with her. You would find yourself staring at them, wondering how you had been so lucky to find a man that was not only a great husband, but an amazing father.

Since you spent the days with Juno, you were happy to let them have the evenings together. Jeno, despite working all day, had plenty of energy left for his baby girl (and for you after she went to sleep). He cleaned her up after dinner, read her a story or two, and tucked her into bed with one final kiss to her brow, not leaving her side until his daughter was sound asleep.

After tidying up the kitchen, you took a seat on the couch and relaxed until Jeno finally joined you. He sat down and grabbed your legs, draping them over his lap, and said, “Thank you.”

You tilted your head. “For what?”

His eyes were full of stars. “She’s a wonder.”

You smiled from ear to ear, warmth spilling into your chest from your heart. “She’s pretty great, isn’t she?”

“The best.”

You took his hand from your thigh and brought it to your lips to kiss across his knuckles, affectionate. “Thank you for giving her to me,” you told him softly. “And for giving us this life.”

Jeno leaned in to kiss you. “You’re welcome.”

You slipped your arms around his shoulders, tugging him close as you met him the rest of the way, sealing your lips to his. After all these years, he was still the only person you desired in the whole world. The only one who ever made your heart flutter and race.

Jeno could kiss you for hours. His hands kneaded at your hips and roamed around your waist. You were so warm and soft beneath his fingertips, fitting perfectly against him. A tiny groan rumbled in his chest when you darted your tongue into his mouth.

You broke from the kiss, blinking to clear the daze in your eyes, and giggled at the distant look on Jeno’s face like he was just shy of heaven. “I’ve been thinking,” you started.

“About what?”

“She’ll be a year old soon.”

Jeno pinched the bridge of his nose, as if he’d just gotten a sudden headache, and whined, “God, she’s growing so fast.”

You nestled deeper into his lap. “I think maybe it’s time we…,” you trailed, biting your lip. “Gave her a little brother.”

Jeno’s gaze flickered and he arched a brow. “Yeah?”

You nodded.

Fire and lust consumed him in the blink of an eye. You could see the familiar change in his expression and it made your pulse pick up speed. Jeno glanced down at your body in his lap and brushed his fingers over your bare knee.

“You’re ready?”

You nodded again. “I am.”

Jeno tightened his arms around you and brushed his lips over your jaw. “Are you asking me to fuck you raw?”

You sucked in a breath when he kissed over your racing pulse. “Yes.”

His voice dropped to a husky growl. “Are you asking me to come inside you?”

“Yes,” you whimpered, tipping your head back as he nibbled the base of your throat.

Jeno gathered you in his arms and hoisted you up with him, popping your legs around his waist. You clung to his shoulders and trailed impatient kisses up his thick neck, winding your fingers into his hair.

Your heartbeat traveled down between your legs. He made you feel like a creature of need and passion, like it was all you were capable of when you were with him.

Jeno lowered you to the bed and draped himself over you. He kissed you deeply, touching the most intimate parts of you with his rough hands. He parted from your lips just long enough to groan, “Fuck, I can’t wait to see you carrying my baby again.”

You hummed, because your voice wouldn’t work. Your face was hot and your mouth watered. He turned you on to the point of madness. Especially when he took off his shirt and you got to feast your eyes on his perfect form, running your fingers over his chiseled abs and chest.

Jeno kissed his way down your body, over your clothes, and dropped to his knees at the edge of the bed. He hurriedly stripped you out of your pants, kissing and nibbling at your sex over your underwear before finally taking them off and tonguing between your folds.

There was something about such a powerful man getting on his knees for you that made you lose what was left of your goddamn mind.

You moaned and pressed your hands into his bulging biceps, his arms hooked around your thighs. Your breaths came faster and louder as he swept his tongue in circles around your clit, stopping only to pump his tongue into your dripping cunt.

Jeno met your eyes and said, “Get naked,” before burying his face back in your pussy.

You tugged off your shirt, but you hesitated at your bra, ever reminded of your breasts that were big and swollen with milk.

“Bra off,” Jeno commanded, biting the inside of your thigh for effect. He was all too familiar with your hesitation. Your husband had loved watching your body change to grow and nurture his baby, and absolutely despised society for telling you to be insecure about it.

Jeno never told you, but he was surrounded by men that openly bragged about fucking their side pieces after their wives had given them children, and he loathed them for it. He’d been there through every minute of your pregnancy, was at your side for the birth of your beautiful baby girl, and knew he would love no woman but you for as long as he lived.

The disrespect made his blood boil and he converted that rage into fuel where you were concerned. If he had to worship your body every single night until you loved yourself as much as he loved you, then that’s exactly what Jeno was going to do.

You hummed when Jeno took your hands in his, lacing his fingers through yours, and brought them to your breasts. He kissed and sucked at your clit, smirking when you clamped your thighs on his head. You started making more noise, turning your head and trying to keep the sounds at bay.

Jeno flicked his tongue over your bundle of nerves, still gripping your hands and your breasts, anchoring you to him and him to you. He smirked at your body undulating beneath him, hips bucking into his mouth then shying away when the stimulation on your clit became too much.

“Jeno,” you stammered out breathlessly, lifting your head before dropping it back on the mattress. “I don’t wanna come yet. Please, baby.”

“Hm?” Jeno mumbled, lapping at your perfect pussy. He fucking loved the taste of you. His and only his. “You don’t wanna come?”

“Not until you’re inside me,” you told him, squeezing his hands. “I wanna come with you.”

Jeno chuckled against your folds, pressing wet kisses to the inside of your thigh in reward. “That’s my good girl,” he growled, sinking his teeth into your flesh. “Only wants to come on my cock when I put a baby in her.”

You nodded, a whine escaping you when he kept tonguing at your folds. Then, you breathed out in relief when he released your hands and stood up at the edge of the bed between your raised legs.

The relief was short-lived, because Jeno teased his hands over your sensitive breasts before reaching between your thighs, two fingers slipping into your cunt while his other hand focused on your clit.

Your eyes widened and you gaped at him, lips parted.

Jeno cocked his head innocently, pumping his fingers in and out of your pussy and rubbing your clit with his thumb. He had your body down to a science and he was very much an expert. “Tell me when you’re right there, baby,” he crooned.

“Fuck,” you moaned, fisting your hands in the blankets beneath you and arching back into the mattress. He was so good at dragging you to the edge and throwing you into one hard orgasm after another. Your pleasure was his pleasure and Jeno wasn’t satisfied unless you were making the neighbors very familiar with his name.

Of course, with the addition of your baby girl, you’d learned to be quiet. And the neighbors were eternally grateful. Though hearing people have sex was the least of one’s worries when living in a city filled to the brim with villains.

Regardless, Jeno would settle for nothing less than your toes curling and your body shaking with what he could do to you.

You always caught yourself wondering how you had been so lucky to find a man that loved you with every inch of his soul. A man that would move heaven and earth to make sure you and your daughter never went without. When asked about his life by others, Jeno never said, “I.” He always said, “We.” And you would just smile at him.

There was no him without you. You were his everything. And he was yours.

“I love you,” you rasped, moaning his name as Jeno worked you to orgasm with his hands.

“I love you more,” Jeno said, withdrawing his fingers when he recognized you at the edge of climax. He propped himself over you and crashed his lips on yours, and you wrapped your arms and legs around him.

Things were a little different since having the baby. Jeno had to prep you more because you were still nursing. Your husband had known the weeks of recovery without sex were harder for you than him, because you missed the intimacy of being entangled with him. And he rewarded your patience with his tongue between your legs every time.

Since then, he’d been wearing condoms until you decided if you wanted another baby or to go on birth control again. Jeno licked his lips at the thought. This would be the first time he could take you without any barriers between your bodies since you were pregnant with Juno. And the memory, no matter how brief it was, of gently making love to you while you were swollen with his baby made Jeno’s cock twitch.

Was it possible to become more in love with someone? Jeno could never wrap his head around it. He fell in love with you all over again when Juno was born, but there were days he felt his love for you grow even more at the smallest of gestures. Like when you soothed him back to sleep after a nightmare. Or the times you nursed him back to health.

Who was Jeno kidding? There were days the mere sight of you smiling at him with that beautiful baby in your arms made him head over heels again.

“Hands and knees,” Jeno ordered, shoving his pants and boxers down around his ankles before kicking them off the rest of the way. His hard cock twitched again at the glistening of your folds and how badly he wanted to slide inside you, raw for the first time in months.

You rolled over eagerly and propped into position, wiggling your ass from side to side in the hopes of enticing him. With the idea of him putting another baby in you, you could feel your walls tightening on nothing, desperate to be filled again.

Jeno slapped his hand on your perfect ass, sending a loud smack through the room followed by a squeak of surprise from you. Though you weren’t totally surprised given your current position. Your husband smoothed his palm over the sting, then teased his fingers between your slit.

“Jeno, please,” you whined like a bitch in heat. “Fuck me, baby.”

Jeno reeled his hand back and gave your sex a firm slap. “Don’t speak again until spoken to.”

You nodded your compliance, shuddering. His dominance did unspeakable things to you.

Jeno grabbed your hips and raked his big cock between your folds, gathering your juices. You fought back a moan until it was a pitiful whine in the back of your throat. He had all the patience in the world while you had none. Jeno let saliva spill from his lips and land on his length, slicking himself up even more.

You gripped the blanket in your fists and cried out when he finally penetrated you, working himself inside until you opened up for him.

“Mm, fuck. That’s my good girl,” Jeno rasped, sucking in a breath through his teeth. “Goddamn. How does it feel?”

The sound you made was pure pleasure. “I missed this.”

Jeno bent over you, caressing your breasts, and whispered, “You missed that raw dick. Didn’t you, baby?”

You arched into his chest, lilting your hips back to take more of him in. And that was answer enough. Your husband smirked at you so eagerly working yourself on his cock.

Jeno pinched your hips and brought you down to meet his thrusts, stroking into you at a pace that had you reeling. The bed creaked with his motions and Jeno toned it down only a little, mindful of the sleeping baby in the next room.

“Fuck,” you cried out, stammering your husband’s name. He was deep in the pit of your stomach. And the things he said while he pounded into you were absolutely filthy.

“Mm,” Jeno hissed, drawing you up, his chest against your shoulders. He coiled his arms around you and cupped your breasts in his hands, kissing his way up the side of your neck. “I’m not gonna last long in this tight pussy.”

You chuckled smugly. “Then, don’t.” He’d brought you so close to orgasm with his tongue and fingers. It was obvious why.

The wet clap of your bodies meeting echoed in the bedroom. Jeno shoved you back to the mattress, pinning his hand to the nape of your neck and slamming his hips into your ass. His eyes rolled back. You were so warm and wet, your walls fluttering around him snug each time he thrust in like your body couldn't get enough of his big cock stuffing you full.

“I’m coming,” you whimpered, lips parted. A moan followed your every breath. “Jeno, please. Don’t stop.”

Jeno had no intention of stopping or even slowing down. His body was running on instinct and need. You kept your hips raised in the air, taking every last inch of him, begging him to fuck you like only he could.

Only he fit inside you so perfectly. You were made for each other.

Jeno clenched his jaw, holding his climax at bay, and got a solid grip on your hips to throttle his cock inside you. He could feel you tensing and squirming, on the verge. “Come for me," he said, and it was not a request.

Your entire body spasmed and clenched. You opened your mouth, but no sound came out as orgasm ripped violently through you. Through the ringing in your ears, you could hear your husband coaxing you down, praising you as he always did.

It wasn't until you went slack that Jeno stopped, keeping himself deep inside you and smoothing his hands over your waist. Your cunt kneaded his cock, dripping with your release.

You turned your head and met his kisses, whispering, "Please. Come in me." Reaching back, you grabbed your husband's hands and grinded yourself onto his stiff cock. "Make me take all of it."

Jeno steered you onto your back and hooked your legs in his arms, pressing you into the mattress beneath his weight. “Fuck, baby," he hissed through his teeth. Your body was too much. "You get me so fucking hard.”

You moaned. He didn’t let up for a second, snapping his hips into yours, plunging his cock into your swollen cunt.

“You’re gonna make me come,” he warned, voice strained.

Fisting a handful of his hair, you purred, “And you’re gonna give me a baby.”

That got him. Jeno released into you with a mangled groan, body shuddering against yours as he painted your insides with his load.

You smoothed your hands down his chest and across his back, coaxing him through it. Arching your hips a little to milk every last drop and prolong his ecstasy, you bit your lip to fight a grin that you and only you got to see him like this.

Jeno slumped onto you, burying his face in your neck. You owned him.

You were content to just lay there with him on top of you, still inside you, and ran your fingers up and down his back, feeling the stress and tension leave him with every passing second in your arms.

Eventually, the two of you cleaned up and got ready for bed. Jeno tucked his body around yours after stealing a scalding hot kiss. “Did I hurt you?” he asked a little worriedly.

You shook your head, lashes fluttering. You could barely keep your eyes open, because both your body and your heart were satisfied. Your husband flexed his arm around you and pressed one last kiss to your temple before settling down at last and drifting off.

Needless to say, you slept like a baby, as you always did in Jeno’s arms. It was hard to explain, but you felt like a princess in the lap of a fire-breathing dragon. And there was no safer place in the world than in a dragon’s clutches.

The next morning, you woke to the usual routine. You nursed your daughter (ever grateful that she had reached the stage where she slept through the night) and prepared coffee and breakfast for Jeno. Though you offered to make him lunch to take with him, Jeno insisted on eating at work, saying you already had your hands full with the baby.

Cooking homemade meals for your husband was your love language and he always showered you with appreciation and gratitude for it. He had a voracious appetite - in more ways than one - and you loved satisfying them all.

As you balanced Juno on your hip, you fought a smirk at the ache between your thighs still lingering. You wondered how long before your stomach started to swell. The thought of being pregnant again excited you. Both you and Jeno had siblings, and you wanted the same for your daughter.

Juno was a little disheveled from such a good night’s rest and a full belly of milk, and clung to you with her head on your shoulder, which did nothing but melt you on the spot. She watched you make breakfast and you narrated everything you were doing to her in your softest voice.

Jeno walked out of the bedroom, tying his tie and mumbling under his breath the list of things he needed to get done at the office.

You licked your lips. Seeing that man in his tailored suits made you want to jump him then and there. For the sake of the baby on your hip and the big plate of breakfast that would get cold, you did not. “Hi, Daddy,” you greeted playfully.

Jeno shot you a knowing look with a smirk and pressed a kiss to your lips before stealing the baby from your arms. “Good morning, Juno. Did you sleep well?”

Juno, at this stage, could only make her adorable baby sounds. And the occasional Mama or Dada.

Jeno always pretended to understand her perfectly and responded, “That’s good. Are you helping Mama make breakfast?”

You handed Jeno his mug of hot coffee, which he took with a thank you.

“Alright, my girls,” Jeno said after finishing his breakfast, leaving kisses on you and your daughter’s cheeks. “I’m off to work. Behave yourselves.”

You giggled when his hand reached down to give your ass a squeeze.

Jeno turned and met your eyes, speaking for your ears only, “Don’t worry over last night. It will happen when it happens.”

You nodded. He knew you too well. “I’m excited,” you whispered with a smile.

“Me, too. You’re an amazing mom.”

You flushed, rising to your tiptoes to kiss him one more time.

Jeno left and you carried Juno into the bedroom so the two of you could get dressed to go to the store. It was errands day and you liked to get started early in the morning while most of the villains caught up on sleep from a night of chaos.

At the supermarket, you kept your baby girl in a koala carrier tucked closely to your chest. It may have seemed excessive to everyone else, but not to you. She was your whole world.

“Alright, Juno,” you said, pushing the cart in front of you. “What should we make Daddy for dinner tonight?”

She peered up at you curiously, as if she really wanted to help.

“How about stew? You both love that.”

Juno made no sound of agreement, but kept looking around at the endless items on the racks.

You weren’t surprised she didn’t sound off on the suggestion. Though for the past few months she’d been showing more interest in foods, your daughter preferred milk for the most part. Jeno was making a point of letting her taste almost everything he had to eat. Her favorite snack was mashed up bananas thus far.

With that in mind, you stopped and grabbed a few more jars of baby food, wanting her to at least try every flavor. She didn’t like baby food much, with most of it rolling down her chin as she subtly pushed it out of her mouth with her tongue. Still, you were fixated on making sure your daughter got all the nutrition she needed.

Juno cooed loudly and stared up at you with her big beautiful eyes. Her father’s eyes. You leaned your head down to nuzzle her nose with your own, making her squeal with delight. It was unreal how much love you had for this tiny human.

Your trek through the supermarket continued, mundane as ever. Until things kept appearing in your cart that you hadn’t grabbed.

Brows furrowed, you walked around to the side of the cart and grabbed a box of fruit snacks. Weird, you thought, circling a few steps to put them back. There was no way you had thrown those into the cart. Neither you or Jeno liked fruit snacks and Juno couldn’t properly chew them yet.

Down the next aisle, you grabbed a loaf of bread and when you turned around, a box of pastries was in the cart. Okay, you definitely didn’t get those. Returning them to the empty space on the shelf, you glanced around, your arms cradling the baby tucked to your chest.

“That’s enough shopping for today,” you told your daughter.

She simply looked up at you, having no clue as to what was going on.

You paid for your groceries and loaded them into the back of your SUV. Then, you buckled your baby into her carseat and headed home.

For whatever reason, you couldn’t shake the thought from your head that maybe you were imagining things or possibly going crazy. Thanks to your husband, you didn’t exactly get a full night’s sleep, but you weren’t complaining in the least about that.

Maybe you were overtired. Exhaustion was obviously common among parents with babies.

Back in the safety of your penthouse apartment, you went about your day as normal. When you got pregnant with your daughter, Jeno offered to be the sole breadwinner and let you be a stay at home mom for as long as you wanted, and you eagerly took him up on the offer. You loved being a mom and raising your baby.

Though she was still very young, you spent an hour or so every day working with her on the alphabet. You could tell Juno was smart; she already tried to follow along when you or Jeno read to her.

“J-U-N-O,” you spelled aloud, moving the letter blocks in front of her. “That spells Juno.”

Juno made her cute little noises, her chunky hands grabbing at the blocks.

You left her there on the living room floor for just a moment, stepping into the kitchen to turn off the beeping toaster oven. You’d almost forgotten you were making yourself a bagel. She was such a precious distraction.

When you walked back over to your daughter, you dropped your plate and it shattered into pieces on the floor.

Juno was looking aloft and the four blocks that spelled her name were hovering in a perfect crescent in the air. Then, the moment your plate crashed to the floor, your daughter turned abruptly and the blocks fell before her.

You blinked rapidly. Had you really just seen that?

No, no, no. Your heart sank deeper into your chest. Absolutely not. Your daughter couldn’t have powers. Neither you or Jeno had powers and it took at least one parent to pass them on.

Tears gathered in your eyes. Villains would come looking. Even worse, heroes would come knocking, trying to recruit her.

Or wanting to steal her.

You rushed over and scooped up your baby, the tears running down your cheeks. Juno was unnerved to say the least and she started whimpering, face tensing with sadness and fear at your reaction.

“It’s okay, baby,” you told her soothingly, pulling your phone from your pocket. “I’m gonna call Daddy.”

The phone rang twice and your husband answered with a bemused, “Hello?”

You never called him at work. Not unless it was an emergency, and to date, you hadn't had one before. “Jeno, come home.”

“Baby, I’m working,” he told you a little curtly. Probably because he assumed you were in the mood to try and make a baby with him again.

“Now,” you snapped.

Jeno paused. Never had you taken a tone like that with him and he was downright shocked. “I’m on my way,” he said, hanging up.

You sat on the couch with your daughter in your lap, bouncing your legs up and down with anxiety. Juno seemed none the wiser, content to crawl on you like you were her personal playground.

When you heard the front door beeping, you set your daughter down between her blocks and stood over her, eyes on the door.

Jeno came in and marched over briskly. His eyes were full of panic as he searched you and his child for distress. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Your daughter,” you started, pinching your lips together before turning back to the baby sitting at your feet. When she looked up and met your eyes with a little smile, you said, “Juno, baby, show Daddy your trick.”

Your child glanced between you and her father. You could see the gears turning in her head. Then, one by one, she made the blocks hover in the air. This time, she even gave them a little spin.

Jeno watched with no expression on his face as she juggled the blocks with her mind, making them turn in a perfect circle above her head. Growing bored, Juno ultimately commanded the blocks back down to the floor and gave her father an excited giggle, proud of what she had done as if it was the most normal achievement in the world.

You inched toward Jeno, hiding the sheer wrath and terror coursing through your body, and spoke quietly, “She’s a year old and moving blocks without lifting a finger. What will she be controlling at five or ten?”

Jeno said nothing. His eyes were locked to his daughter and she was staring back at him just as fiercely. A silent understanding passed between them. Power recognized power.

You were tearing apart at the seams and the silence only expedited the process. “Jeno…,” you called.

“I heard you.”

“Then, fucking say something,” you hissed at him under your breath. Anger was slowly but surely working its way up your spine.

Jeno said the last thing you expected. “She’s gifted.”

“That’s not a gift. It’s a curse.”

Jeno recoiled like he’d been slapped and rounded on you, stern. “Don’t say that in front of my daughter.”

You braced a hand on his chest and moved him a few feet away with you, making your lowered voices harder to hear for your child. “Do you know what kind of people will target her for this? People will try to take her from us!"

Jeno realized that was what you were worried about and replied levelly, “They would never get past me and you know it.”

You bit your lip. “Jeno,” you started, hesitating. “Are you…”

He visibly tensed before you. “We made a promise. You swore you would never ask me.”

There was only one rule in your relationship with Jeno - never ask what he did for work. Because, as he said, he would tell you. He was honest and couldn’t lie to you. So he chose to lie by omission. If you asked and he told you, you would have dangerous knowledge and in this city, knowledge could get anyone killed.

Shivering with tears, you whimpered, “What am I supposed to do?”

Jeno studied his daughter from the across the room, his chest filling with pride. “Nothing. Life will go on as normal. I will teach her to control it.”

You devolved into tears, hiding your face in your hands. It hurt that you were scared out of your mind and he didn’t seem the least bit bothered. You felt alone and vulnerable, like only you saw and feared the danger.

Jeno softened and gathered you in his arms. “Shh, baby. It’s okay. Come here. It’s alright.”

You choked on a sob. “Don’t let anyone hurt my baby.”

Jeno held you flush against him tightly, kissing your temple and soothing his hands down your back. “I won’t.”

“I don’t care what you are. Just don’t let anyone take her from me.”

That had your husband’s attention. You needed some consolation and reassurance. Jeno took your face in his hands, wiping your tears with his thumbs. “Look at me,” he said firmly. “Look me in the eyes.”

You did.

Jeno’s voice dropped to a low growl. “Whatever monster you can imagine in your head, I am much, much worse. Do you understand?”

You blinked, making more tears cascade down your cheeks, and nodded slowly. A shiver coursed through you. You would remember those words for as long as you lived.

That night, you stood before the mirror in the bathroom and brushed your hair. Having slipped into your favorite oversized tee of Jeno’s to sleep in, you cleaned off your makeup and washed your face.

Jeno was putting Juno to bed, reading her a story no doubt. You wondered what was going through his mind. He stayed home the rest of the afternoon, calling out of work and citing family issues. Juno didn’t exert any of her power again, almost like she sensed the watchful gazes on her.

There was nothing else to be done in this situation. Your daughter had powers, like so many in this city. They went on to become villains or heroes, ever in a duel for control of Hel.

That was a lie. Everyone knew villains were the true masters of the land.

Giving yourself one last scan in the mirror, you weren’t surprised when Jeno came up behind you, smirking like the devil himself, and smoothed his hands around your waist.

“You wanna make a baby?” Jeno asked softly, his breath hot on your neck. He hiked up your shirt, recognizing it as one of his, and palmed your bare skin.

You frowned and turned in his arms to face him. “You could have told me.”

Jeno sighed. “I know.”

“Any baby I give you will have powers. Won’t they?”

Jeno bobbed his head and then shrugged, quipping, “I guess my gene is dominant.”

You smarted, “Just like the rest of you.”

Jeno chuckled.

Damn it, you could never stay mad at him. Leaning back against the counter, hands gripping the edge, you watched him raking his eyes down your body and kneading your hips in his big, powerful hands. No one ever made you feel wanted and loved like Jeno. You would give him your body, your heart and your soul.

At this point, you already had.

Jeno felt your anger dissipating, no matter how warranted it was, and leaned in to trail his lips up your neck. “Tell me what you want,” Jeno whispered, nipping beneath your ear. “I’ll do whatever you want. All you have to do is ask me.”

That sent a shudder through you. You knew he would give you the moon if you asked. Draping your arms across his shoulders, you told him, “I want to have another baby.”

“Alright. I’ll give you one.”

Jeno fucked you there, right over the bathroom sink. He slapped his hips into your ass from behind, keeping a hand around your throat to make sure you never looked away from your reflection in the mirror as he told you again and again how beautiful you were to him. How he would never love anyone but you for as long as he lived.

Release made your knees buckle and Jeno carried you through it, whispering the sweetest nothings in your ear and holding you to him as you shuddered and cried out his name.

There was one last loud slap of your bodies meeting when Jeno stopped and filled you with his seed, his breaths staggering at the way your walls kneaded his cock through orgasm.

Satisfied, your husband slipped his length from your folds, scooped you up into his arms and carried you to the bed. When he set you down on your back, you carded your fingers into his hair and made him look at you.

“You have to promise me,” you whispered, staring up at him with unshed tears in your eyes. “Swear on any gods you or I believe in that you will protect them.”

Jeno spoke like he was committing the most sacred of vows, “The only god I believe in is you and I swear to you, our children will never know fear.”

You blinked. The weight that had been sitting on your shoulders fled at that moment. You could breathe again. “I don’t care what side you are on. Hero or villain, I don’t care. Just as long as you use whatever gift you have to protect my babies.”

“And you.”

You smiled faintly. “And me.”

Jeno propped himself over you and brushed his lips against yours. “Do you trust me?”

“You are the only person I trust in the whole world,” you replied without missing a beat.

“Till the day I die, I belong only to you. I will burn this city to the ground if it ever crosses you.”

You brought him down for a kiss, tightening your legs around his waist.

Jeno took the next day off from work and told you to sleep in. There were bottles of milk in the fridge that you had pumped and knew Juno was in his perfectly capable hands. You stayed in bed until noon, resting your body and your mind in the hopes of conceiving another baby with him.

And for your own sake, you definitely needed that rest.

When you stepped out into the living room, you were surprised to see a person you didn’t recognize sitting on the couch, but your attention flew to Juno.

Jeno glanced up, noticing you come out, and exclaimed, “Mama, are you watching?”

Your heart was about to burst.

Juno was walking. Well, more or less, she was walking with Jeno’s hands gripping her sides to keep her stable. Juno looked to you, her mouth open with the biggest grin she could make.

“We’ve been practicing all morning to show you,” Jeno said, sweeping Juno into his arms and drowning her in kisses all over her face, making your daughter giggle loudly.

You approached them, taking Juno when your husband held her out to you. He knew you would want to hold her the moment you woke up.

“This is Yuta,” he said, motioning to the man sitting on the couch, who had been watching with a smile.

You acknowledged him. “Hi, Yuta.”

“He has experience with… gifted offspring.”

That had your attention. You raised a brow. “Does he?”

Yuta got to his feet and nodded. “Your daughter is very special.”

You looked at Juno in wonder and kissed her cheek. “I know she is.”

Both Yuta and Jeno chortled.

You sombered, turning back to them, and asked, “What do I need to know?”

“Allow her to express her power,” Yuta replied, surprising you. “The more you stifle it, the more it can grow out of her control. But also set boundaries. She needs to know there are consequences for destructive behaviors. For a normal child, the consequences are less serious, but for children like ours, they can be life and death.”

You looked to your baby, who seemed particularly thrilled at being the center of attention if her wide beaming smile was any indication. Jeno was staring at her with nothing short of adoration and reached over to stroke his finger across her cheek.

“Seems so simple and yet so impossible at the same time,” you droned, mostly to yourself.

Yuta continued, “As for the whole hero versus villain argument, let your kid decide for herself which path she wishes to follow. You may find that trying to force her down one road will drive her into the other.”

Those words rang out in your chest and you took them to heart. Your baby deserved freedom to choose and you would make sure of that. Nodding, you gave him a grateful smile and said, “Thank you, Yuta.”

“You’re welcome.”

Jeno walked him out, leaving you with your daughter. You pressed a reassuring kiss to her face and then another, making her coo and grab at you with her hands. Sighing contentedly, you let Juno hold your cheeks between her palms and press a cute kiss to your nose.

Things were a little tense between you and your husband. Understandably so. You could already sense there would be some disagreement. You avoided him a bit, tucking your daughter in for her nap before you decided to talk to him. That way she would be out of earshot.

Jeno came into the nursery, leaning against the doorway as he watched you rub Juno’s back, speaking in that soothing voice of yours, lulling her to sleep.

The moment you closed the door quietly behind you, you asked, “You called in an expert?”

Jeno nodded. “I needed advice and he’s someone I trust completely.”

If Jeno trusted him, then you did too. He never brought people around your daughter except family, which meant Yuta would really have to be held in high regard to be allowed anywhere near your child.

You followed Jeno out to the living room, noting how heavily he dropped onto the couch like the weight of the world sat squarely on his broad shoulders. It was a heavy responsibility, having such a powerful child.

Taking the spot next to him, you molded yourself to his side and brushed his dark hair back with your fingers. “What’s on your mind? Tell me what you’re thinking. Please,” you whispered softly.

Jeno exhaled loudly through his nose. He stared off into the distance. “I’ve tried very hard to hide that part of my life from you.”

“I know and I’m grateful to you for that.”

Jeno ran a hand down his face and said, “Ignorance is bliss. That is what I wanted for you, for our family. I’d hoped and prayed she wouldn’t be like me, but she is.”

You couldn’t resist anymore and so you asked, “You’re a villain. Aren’t you?”

Jeno slowly nodded.

You leaned even more into him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, and comforted when he drew you in and smoothed his hand over your thigh. “Deep down, I always knew.”

“I can’t hide her forever,” Jeno said firmly, finding his resolve. “I have to train her in our ways.”

You blinked in surprise, flinching at the thought. “You want to train her to be a villain?”

“Yes.”

“But… Yuta said to let her choose her own path. She could be a hero,” you reminded him, pulling back a little.

Jeno clenched his jaw and snapped, “My daughter will never be a hero. There is no future for them in this place. They either die as martyrs for a corrupt, abusive system or they die for their selfish sense of justice or savior complex.”

“Jeno…,” you began. This conversation was unnerving you. All your hopes and dreams for a normal life for your daughter - the life you never got to have - were crushed. You imagined a powerful being ruling Hel with an iron fist. Constantly pursued. Endlessly challenged.

So many would want her dead.

Your husband locked his eyes with yours, staring you down. “I won’t allow it. My daughter will never be a pawn in someone else’s games.”

Your lips quivered and your voice shook, because you were on the verge of tears again. “Why can’t she just be a child?”

“She’s too powerful,” Jeno said, then he hung his head. “Like me.”

You clambered out of his lap and turned away, covering your face as tears ran down your cheeks. For a moment, you hated the love of your life, hated him for giving your baby girl his curse and condemning her to a life of villainy and destruction.

It didn’t matter if she became a hero or a villain, she was still your child and you would defend her with your life. Even if she became the most hated enemy of the entire world, the world would have to get through you to reach her.

But your daughter’s childhood was being stolen away right in front of your eyes. She wouldn’t be able to play with other children at risk of hurting them. Would she even be able to go to preschool when the time came or would that be too dangerous?

All that isolation and fear would warp her into something she was never meant to be. Juno was a smiley, happy baby. The day you watched her joy turn to hate would be the day your heart died.

You could never let her become like you.

Jeno reached for you worriedly. He had to remind himself that while he saw his daughter as a perfect, powerful creature, you viewed her as the most fragile glass that could crack at even the slightest touch.

“This won’t happen for many years,” Jeno consoled, wiping your cheeks with his gentle hands. “Of course, she’s a child now. She will have a happy childhood, unlike us, but one day, she will understand what she is capable of and I want her to be strong. I want no one to be able to manipulate her.”

That last part, you could hear a bite in his tone. Something bitter and pained. Sniffling, you asked, “Is that what happened to you?”

Jeno startled. “What?”

“Did someone manipulate you, Jeno?”

Your husband was blank. There was something churning beneath the surface of him, something he had gone to great lengths to hide and keep buried. He stood abruptly, shaken, and said, “I need to go.”

You could hardly believe your eyes, leaping up and watching him stomp for the front door. “Where are you going?” you called after him.

“Out!”

You jolted in place as he slammed the door behind him with enough force it came clean off the hinges and clattered to the floor in pieces.

To say you were furious would be an understatement. Clearly, you had struck a nerve, but you were going to pick that chord until you learned what song it made. The song that could ultimately decide your daughter’s future.

Ignoring the broken door, you went into the nursery and packed Juno’s bag. You gathered your sleeping baby in your arms, apologizing for waking her when she fussed, but the moment she was in the carseat with your SUV cruising smoothly down the streets, she fell right back to sleep.

It was the first time you had ever gone to Jeno’s work. You were under strict instructions never to go there. Nevertheless, Jeno had pointed the building out to you before. Just in case.

The place was rather unassuming, not like the massive skyscrapers that reached the clouds. Whatever type of business was run there, you didn’t know. All you knew was Jeno made substantial money and was a top employee, able to take time off whenever he desired.

You almost laughed. This was the last place you expected to serve as a den for villains. But everywhere you looked in Hel, villains made their mark. Some preferred to work in the dark or where you least expected. Easier to avoid heroes that way perhaps, but most villains didn’t give a damn about fighting it out with heroes. The news was always abuzz with a new battle and the damage that followed.

Ignorance is bliss. You kept hearing those words in your husband’s voice in your head. You weren’t naïve. You had known the safe, luxurious life your husband provided for you and your child came at a cost. But you never questioned it.

You had been through hell. You were willing to overlook things so long as your daughter never had to walk in your shoes.

Today, you would pry. Juno would have what you couldn’t. She would be all that you weren’t. You would make any sacrifice for that without hesitation.

“Mr. Lee, your wife is here,” said the assistant nervously.

Jeno gawked when you walked into his office and exclaimed, “What the hell are you doing here?”

After locking the door behind you, you took off your coat nonchalantly and hung it up on the rack in the corner before answering, “I followed you.”

“Where is Juno?” Jeno asked. One of the few times you had seen him truly afraid.

You marched over to him and said, “She’s with your mother. I’m assuming one or both of your parents have powers to protect her with.”

Jeno nodded, shutting his mouth at that.

You put your hands on your hips and glanced around. The office was dark and minimal. There were no windows to be seen. Jeno was sitting on a brown leather sofa with his legs stretched out. His jacket was thrown carelessly to the floor and he sported only a white tee with his jeans. You could see every bit of the tension in his body.

He was at a breaking point.

You narrowed your eyes in a glare. “God, I’m so angry with you.”

Jeno’s gaze was on your legs. He refused to meet your eyes and that was very telling. “I know.”

“You made me forget who I am.”

Jeno blinked in surprise.

You chewed over your words before finally spitting them out, “Ever since I fell in love with you, I surrendered all of myself to you. It was easier that way. I gave you all the power, because you knew what to do with it.”

“Baby…,” Jeno started, peeking up at you. He couldn’t handle the fury on your beautiful face. It was a searing reminder that he’d failed. He failed at everything he’d set out to do.

To keep you safe. And to keep his baby from turning out like him.

You braced your hands on his shoulders and straddled his lap, earning your husband’s undivided attention. “I don’t have gifts like you or Juno, but I have a strength of my own. I’m a survivor, by any means necessary.”

Jeno forbade himself from getting aroused while this was a very serious and heavy moment, but the weight and warmth of you on his clothed cock was already too much. He figured that was intentional and why you had fucking mounted him the way you had. There was no choice but to submit himself to your mercy.

“You never have to worry about that,” he said roughly, resting his hands on your thighs. “I’ll never let anyone hurt you again.”

You smiled down at him, brushing your fingers over his jaw and lips. “I know. That’s my point. I handed you my reins, but now I’m taking them back.”

Jeno’s brows stitched. “What do you mean?”

You grabbed him by the throat.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Jeno rasped, wrapping his hand around your wrist. He could very easily pry you loose, but he didn’t. He liked how your fingers felt digging into his neck.

“You may rule this city, but I rule you,” you hissed, breath hot on his face.

Jeno groaned lowly in the back of his throat, resonating in his chest. His cock was half hard in his pants now, pressing painfully against the zipper of his jeans. Goddamnit.

You smirked at his pulse racing beneath your thumb and told him roughly, “You may have put her inside me, but I breathed life into her. She’s mine. And you will never raise her to be a villain.”

“It’s for her own safety.”

“No,” you shot back. “It’s for your own trauma and your own need for control.”

Jeno grit his teeth and shifted uncomfortably beneath you. You had figured him out easily.

Maybe because you recognized the same signs within yourself.

You released his throat and carded your fingers into his hair, tugging on the strands and making him meet your eyes. “She’s not us,” you whispered, softening. “She will make her own choices, her own mistakes. It is our job to guide her and protect her, not choose her paths for her.”

Something broke inside Jeno then. He loved you and that little girl so much it made his heart hurt. Tears threatened and he pursed his lips with contempt and emotion. “You don’t understand.”

“Yes, I do. I know there are things in your past that shaped you. Things you can’t even speak of. I have demons like that in my past too. They tried to kill me, but I’m still here.”

Jeno whimpered, “I can’t let her ever go through what I did.”

You smiled at him affectionately, your chest burning at the pain he was in. “Me neither. She will break both of our curses, Jeno. This pain ends with us.”

Jeno’s tears escaped and he wiped at them roughly with his hands.

You pressed a kiss to his lips, feeling Jeno embrace you jarringly fast, like he craved the connection with you to soothe his aching soul. “I love you,” you said, kissing the corner of his mouth.

Jeno said your name. “I love you more than anything in the world,” he breathed, then chuckled. “Except Juno. I’m sorry. She’s the only one that outranks you in my heart.”

You laughed, happy to see his humor breaking through all the tension, and assured him, “The feeling is mutual. And if we do happen to make another baby, they will outrank you as well.”

Jeno smirked, kneading your hips in his hands and looking down at your precarious position in his lap. He could feel the warmth of your folds on his cock despite the clothes in the way and he knew you were undoubtedly aware of the hard dick underneath you.

There was something to be said about the two of you airing out your worries and your pain. Jeno felt lighter, like he didn’t need to be carrying this anvil on his chest everywhere. You had broken it down with a few well-placed jabs. Sure, talking about his trauma and his fear was agonizing, but the pain was a necessary evil to healing.

“I kept thinking,” Jeno spoke up, smile fading. “If I locked you and her away, nothing could ever hurt you both.”

“I know. And I went along with it, because I had the same thought.”

Jeno let his head fall back. Validating his feelings sent a wave of relief crashing through him. He stared up at you in reverence, wondering what he had done to deserve someone that made him whole again. “What happened to you?” he asked gently.

You tilted your head, cradling his face and kissing him deeply. Then, you said, “I’ll never tell you, baby. Just like you’ll never tell me how you got your scars. I don’t want you to ever carry that knowledge.”

“If you tell me who hurt you, I will kill them.”

“I know that, because I would do the same for you.”

Jeno smiled.

You coaxed, “Let’s move on and heal together, Jeno. You and me.”

Your husband relaxed. He could never describe what your words and promises had done for him. Hope filled his chest. The thought that his daughter could go through life without being touched and shaped by evil like he had made more tears prick at his eyes.

Fighting them back so he could focus on you, Jeno said, “I’m sorry I broke the door.”

You snickered. “I forgive you.”

“I called the landlord. He’s fixing it.”

You nodded. At this point, you didn’t care. All you could think about was how badly you wanted him, because you loved him so much it was all-consuming.

Jeno licked his lips and asked coyly, “Should I book us a hotel room for the night?”

“Don’t bother,” you taunted, bracing your hands on his abs. “I’m gonna have you right here.”

Jeno’s eyes flickered, widening. His pupils dilated to bottomless wells of arousal.

You slotted your lips to his and kissed him hard, grinding down on his cock underneath you.

Jeno sucked in a breath between kisses, the warmth and weight of you was too much. He palmed at your hips before grabbing handfuls of your ass, squeezing.

You finally broke from the kiss and met your husband’s eyes, smirking at him with mischief written all over your face. You shivered at how he was looking at you; a mix of enraptured and cocky. The little smile tugging on his lips was like a challenge.

A challenge to replace it with something more... carnal.

You clambered off your husband’s lap and stood between his legs, pulling your shirt up and over your head. Jeno eyed your breasts barely held in the bra and leaned in, running his hands up and down your sides and kissing across your ribs. You were quick to shove him back by the shoulders and drop down to your knees.

Jeno took off his shirt as you started unfastening his pants, growling when you teased your lips and tongue down his happy trail. Your every touch was intoxicating, sending a shudder through his body.

You weren’t satisfied until his pants and boxers were wrapped around his ankles, and you fisted his hard cock in your hand the moment it sprang free. You held his shaft and teased your tongue along the veins, giggling when your husband let out a frustrated groan.

“Fuck,” he hissed, throwing his head back into the couch when you engulfed him in your warmth mouth, hollowing your cheeks and sucking mercilessly on his sensitive tip.

You held him at the base and worked him up with your saliva, peering up at Jeno and feeling your walls clench at the rapture on his face. If you had your way, you would reduce him to nothing in a matter of minutes.

Jeno gathered your hair in his hand, steering you gently up and down his cock. With his other hand, he stroked his fingers over your cheek affectionately and said, “I would die for you.”

You drew back and replied coyly, “I know.” Then, you wrapped your lips around his length again and pressed forward until you’d taken every last inch of him.

Jeno tried to keep eye contact and pinched his lips together in restraint. The gagging, choking sounds leaving your throat each time he sank in were too much and your husband tipped his head back and staggered out a breath.

There was a tightening between your legs and you could feel yourself soaking through your panties. Satisfied that he was extra slick with your saliva, you pulled his cock from your mouth with a pop and clambered to your feet.

Jeno let his hand fall from your hair and reached for your waist, holding onto you whilst you stripped out of your pants and straddled his hips. He watched with bated breath as you steered him into your entrance.

You sank down on him, moaning at the stretch, eyes winched closed. All you could do was rasp his name as your body adjusted around his hard length.

Jeno stared up at you in reverence, a grunt escaping him as he said, “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

You had some idea given how hard he was for you, but you still liked hearing it.

Bracing your hands on his chest, you rolled your hips back and forth. There was a wet squelch every time he bottomed out inside you, your walls clamping down on him with your movements.

“Fuck me,” Jeno groaned, reeling his hands back and slapping them on your ass. “Just like that.”

With him goading you, you picked up the pace, bouncing up and down on his cock, your ass colliding loudly with the tops of his thighs. It was unreal how good he felt and you made yourself bite your lip to keep your cries trapped in your throat, because you knew you undoubtedly had an unsuspecting audience on the other side of the wall.

“God fucking damn,” Jeno groaned, the air whooshing out of his lungs. You were riding him so hard it downright shocked him.

You were taking pleasure from his body, using his cock to get yourself off, and nothing made Jeno want to come more than that. His hands were heavy on your hips, fingers sinking into your flesh to the point of bruising. You were going to milk every last drop out of him at this pace.

And you did.

The moment you tipped over the edge, riding him wildly at the height of your orgasm, Jeno crushed you in his arms and trapped you to him, emptying inside you with a guttural groan that made you shiver and swear even more.

Jeno was shaking like a leaf below you and you carded your fingers into his hair, his breath hot on your neck. You collapsed on top of him, a tiny noise escaping you when his soft length slipped from your folds. Jeno grasped your knee, hooking your thigh across his waist as he settled back into the couch.

“I know I promised never to ask,” you said shyly, making senseless patterns on his chest with your fingertips. “But please allow me one question.”

“You waited until after draining my balls to ask. I see you,” Jeno smarted, chuckling.

You snorted back a laugh. Then, your face turned somber. “Have you ever used your power on me?”

“No.”

You arched a brow. “You promise?”

He nodded. “It takes all of my strength every second you’re in my arms not to use my power on you,” your husband whispered and you absolutely believed him.

“Restraint is the hardest part of being a villain?”

Jeno looked down, marveling just how good your naked body looked on his. He smoothed his hands down your waist and landed on your thigh hooked over his hips. “I could destroy this city with my bare hands, baby,” he whispered darkly.

You shivered a little.

“You know, I used to look at my hands and see only death. Then, when you gave birth to Juno and I held her, everything changed for me.”

You melted into him. Just the thought of the baby you had made together caused your heart to take off and soar inside your chest.

“I couldn’t believe something so beautiful came from someone as evil as me.”

You cupped his cheek in your hand, turning him to face you, your lips brushing his. “I don’t care what you’ve done. I will always love you.”

“You saved my life,” Jeno confessed in a whisper. “You and that baby girl saved me from my demons. And from myself.”

You smiled.

Jeno kissed the corner of your mouth and said, “She may have my power, but she has your heart.”

Copyright 2020-2024 © yutaholic (formerly zenyukhei) All rights reserved do not copy or translate without my permission!

[dragon-ascent]

Why You Mustn’t Resonate with Other Elements: Exhibit A

You resonate with elements other than Geo and Zhongli is…not too happy about that.

★彡Majorly fluff but heavily implied spice at the end

 Zhongli takes pride in the fact that his lover is a traveler. Not just any ordinary traveler, but one who can traverse the many terrains of Teyvat with immense skill and poise. He often enjoys accompanying you on these adventures, and on times he cannot, he eagerly awaits your return, each smile of yours bringing along with it some fabulous treasures that generally cannot be fathomed by regular adventure-seekers.

Above all, though, he holds in high regard the fact that you can seamlessly transition between elements depending on the Statue of the Seven you resonate with, even without a Vision - of course, you’ve been a Geo user ever since marrying Zhongli and settling down with him. At this point, the golden element is practically a part of you, just as your heart and soul is. 

This evening, his heart is filled to the brim with love and anticipation, as today is the day you return from a desert expedition in the far western reaches of Sumeru. Normally a patient man, he finds himself ever so slightly giddy with excitement, chancing a look outside the window every minute as the day creeps toward evening. Finally, he sees you, and without a moment’s hesitation he goes outside to give you an affectionate welcome. Beaming, he holds his arms out to you, ready to embrace you as you inevitably barrel into him as your form of hello, when his smile falters just the tiniest smidge.

The gilded sheen that used to adorn your clothing is now a bright green. 

You’ve resonated with Dendro.

*****

Obviously, Zhongli doesn’t bring it up right when he welcomes you back. No, he waits until later that night, after you’ve finished telling him stories of the trials, friendships and betrayals you’ve faced, coming out unscathed as usual. He is patient, so he only brings it up after dinner, casually, nonchalantly.

“So, you’ve never told me about the drastic change in yourself in your letters to me,” he starts, watching you from where he stands as you sit on the couch cuddling a cushion.

Tilting your head, you answer, “Is it my hair? Has it gotten a little longer? Maybe I should cut it.”

With a sigh only he can hear, he strides forward and takes your chin gently. “I want to know why you have changed your element.”

You blink. “Oh! Well, I had to deal with some ancient Dendro totems that needed rejuvenating, hehe.” You smile up at him, but he’s still frowning slightly.

“That is all well and good, dearest, but when dealing with other elements, you generally like to switch back to Geo when all is done, yes?”

“Well...” You shrug. “I like Dendro. I think I’ll stick to it!” 

A small huff escapes Zhongli’s lips. “Why not Geo?”

You giggle. “Zhongli, are you jealous?”

“I am not.”

“You are!”

“I am most decidedly not.” He turns away from you, the tiniest blush blossoming on his face. 

You snicker, getting off the couch and hugging him from behind. “To think Rex Lapis would be jealous...my, I’m really flattered!”

“Hm.”

“This is the best reaction I’ve ever seen in my life! I knew resonating with Dendro was the right idea! You’re such a cutie, Zhong!”

A pause, followed by another sigh. “So, you got what you wanted. I take it you will change back to Geo now?”

You smile and peck his cheek, dancing over to his front view. “No, I don’t think I will.”

Now that you’re standing in front of him, you get a good view of his gleaming amber eyes, swirling with a kind of tempered desire only Zhongli himself would be able to rein in.

And rein he doesn’t, for the very next moment he’s holding you in his arms, a passionate kiss sealing your lips. Your eyes at first widen with surprise, but then flutter closed as you melt into his addictive touch, wrapping your arms around his neck as he pulls you closer. 

“Zhong-ah!” He bites your lower lip and pushes his tongue into your mouth, ravenously questing for that which he desires. As he does so, he pushes you against the wall, caging you in. Your heart pounds with love and lust, giving yourself to his own burning feelings.

But when he pulls away finally, it is evident he’s nowhere near done. As you catch your breath, he bites your neck, his hand roaming down your side and settling at the curve of your hip, squeezing ever so lightly. “It seems I need to give you a reminder.”

“H-huh?” Your mind is a blur of bliss, every bite and kiss of his pulling you deeper into the haze. It is only when his hand glows a bright gold that you are brought back to the surface, albeit only temporarily as you gauge the look on your lover’s face. 

Zhongli’s eyes, normally a mellow amber, are now carnally golden, a promise - no, a contract - of what’s to come.

“The versatility of Geo lies in its ability to create the most beautiful constructs.” Saying this, he conjures up…a pair of jade handcuffs, glimmering innocuously in the dusk light. You stare at it, dumbstruck. He quirks an eyebrow, amused by your reaction as he kisses you once more. “Allow me to remind you of this, properly and thoroughly.”

[astroismypassion]

Astrology observations 🧡🐱🍊

Credit goes to my Tumblr blog @astroismypassion

🧡 Libra Chiron and Chiron in the 7th house native can often attract a partner with a “man child” behaviour. They might go that far to give nickname to their partner, such as “mamma”, “daddy”, “mamacita” etc.

🍊 Saturn in the 7th house people can divorce around the same age as their parents age were when they got a divorce. This native can disconnect emotionally from their partner around the age their parents divorced.

🐱 Why Sun in the 12th house often comes across as a victim is often, because they change the narrative. They present one story and later they change it or present another aspect of it, which people don’t end up accepting and would often accuse the person of trying to portray themselves as a victim.

🧡 Gemini IC or Gemini over the 4th house native: some of your family members tend to have allergies

🍊Libra Moon men inherently have a knack for what women like in partnerships and how they enjoy being seduced. They just have this natural knowing and instinct. They also think that they seem to prefer big romantic gestures (such as picnic) over gifts.

🐱 Saturn over the 2nd house transit: in the middle of the transit you might realize that money and financial stability doesn’t buy you happiness, emotional stability, confidence, optimistic outlook or status.

🧡 Cancer Venus loves the idea of marrying their first crush. Or someone they have known since teenage years or their whole life.

🍊 Capricorn Jupiter ends up marrying someone older than them. Or a bit younger, but often older. Similar Aquarius Jupiter, either someone a lot older or someone younger. Meanwhile, Libra Jupiter often marries someone with the same age, their peer, because they like an equal partner. Gemini Jupiter ends up marrying someone with whom they have 2-3 years age difference.

🐱 Pisces Venus really enjoys reviewing red carpet looks, fashion choices and outfits. They also really like to discuss fashion and they sometimes idealize it. They share this with Taurus Venus as well.

🧡Aries Moons love dance soo much. Even if they just broke up with someone, failed an exam, broke off an engagement, they are like... at least I can still have dance and have fun. They really express their emotion through dancing.

🍊Celebrities who have Libra MC are often known for their perfume. Such as Gabrielle Coco Chanel and perfume Chanel No. 5, which remains one of the best known perfumes of all time around the world.

🐱Taurus Venus women often face remarks of other people about their body, I would say even more so if the woman also has Taurus, Libra or Aries Moon and Scorpio Rising or Rising at a Scorpio degree. Much like in the case of Ariana Grande, Selena Gomez.

🧡 People who have Gemini Moon or Gemini IC: your parents might often criticize your partner.

🍊Virgo MC often perfects their craft to the last detail. Their clothes are really carefully chosen and curated when younger just to have nurture this image of being flawless. But with age, they tend to dress down, show themselves just as their are. Often they grow to understand that what their identity is and who they are (Pisces IC) is already enough on its own. That they don't need to be perfectly dress or put on a performance without any mistakes. Celebrity examples would be Kim Kardashian, who dresses down with age and likes to present herself in a more "natural" light. Also Justin Bieber, who used to plan out all of his performances with perfect dances and clothing. All was well curated for the audience and the public.

🐱Also, when you have Virgo Midheaven you are more likely to SELL something. Like your own perfumes, bracelets, tarot readings, astrology chart readings, your own music, clothing etc. Even if you are working as a waiter since Virgo is related to service, you are selling drinks and food in the end.

🧡 People with Libra MC or Libra over the 10th house might get accused of having a job or a career only because of their spouse or partner. Like "Kanye made Kim" who has Libra over the 10th house. These people can also end up working for their spouse's business.

🍊Composite Pisces Mars or Mars at a Pisces degree (12, 24) can often cause delays in who one person sees things and when the other learns about them. You might write them a love letter or decide to tell them your feelings months in advance. But they don't really know about your intentions and might hear things for the first time much later than you. Or you might plan a birthday surprise months in advance, but your person might only learn about it much later. Or they mention something they like that you have already bought them or plan to give them.

Credit goes to my Tumblr blog @astroismypassion

[paradox-n-bedrock]

I actually find Donna and Shaun's marriage kind of fascinating and think there's a solid middle ground to be found between the "dead relationship, full of resentment and apathy" and "ideal couple, super in love" camps. I try to give hints of that in the stuff I've been working on (expect gratuitous use of that Shaun Temple is Tired tag), but I really want to explore it a little more deeply.

There are potential consequences from Donna suddenly being a package deal with her best friend and canonical love of her life but neither immediate divorce nor a seamless transition into an alternative relationship structure feel very likely (though there's no shame in using either or dealing with it off-page if it doesn't suit the fic). I just crave some more complex, nuanced takes on them adapting to the changes in or the dissolution of the marriage.

Plus, people are sleeping on the sheer drama of: you fell in love with an amazing but troubled woman and fifteen years later she unlocks memories that fundamentally changed her as a person, including the relationship with someone she wanted to stay with forever. Oh, and the two of them are inseparable again, so you've got a brand new member of the household.

I know we appreciate Shaun's ability to just roll with stuff, but it's a major change regardless of whether you prefer platonic or romantic DoctorDonna. Like Donna being herself in all her glory is gonna make or break that marriage, no matter where their existing relationship is at. And both options have the potential to be interesting. Do they not fit together anymore, no matter how happy for her Shaun might be, or, despite some growing pains, is it as good for their relationship as it is for Donna personally? Does having the memory issue and the financial stress solved allow frustrations in the relationship to heal? Or do they find they're not as securely bound together as they thought? I do think romcom jealousy is boring but suddenly watching someone else irrefutably bring out the happiest, best version of your spouse might bring up some complicated emotions.

As an aside, the parallels between Shaun and Lee also make me a little crazy. She picked another handsome, easy going, virtually silent man who seems to defer to her the vast majority of the time. Their kid has her last name. She sits at the head of the table like a queen holding court. I love it, anything else wouldn't feel right, but I just can't stop hearing, "What does that say about me?" "Everything."

[celluloidbroomcloset]

I have been considering narratives again...

There's an interesting progression in "Wherever You Go," from the scene of Stede at the pub to the scene between Ed and Izzy, as both Ed and Stede become increasingly trapped in stories that have the potential to destroy them, by men who don't understand them.

In the scene at the pub, Stede begins by asking for attention, but almost immediately balks when he receives it, thinking it is going to be used to harm him. He speaks to a man he hasn't spoken to since he was a child, and receives, for a moment, the accolades from other men that he's craved in the past. But almost immediately, he's drawn into telling a story, one that becomes increasingly detached from reality and that ultimately sends him into a spiral.

When Stede responds to a question about Blackbeard with "he's absolutely lovely," the men are disappointed. And Stede, desperate for attention, goes on: "...oh, and of course, a bloodthirsty killer, born of the devil. But I don't really like talking about him..."

Stede doesn't trust what he might say if he talks more about "Blackbeard," but he's already done damage to himself by narrating Ed back into the caricature that Ed so soundly rejected.

The statement is quickly followed by another man asking if he's ever killed anyone, and then doubting that he has. The story breaks. Stede's voice even changes, shifting from a bombastic, over-Anglicized accent to his regular voice, as though he were coming back to himself. And he doesn’t lie or tell a story:

"I've seen death. I've been the cause of death. It changes you. Forever."

Where he began the show wanting to change piracy from a "culture of abuse," the men of his own culture admire him for having been steeped in death. They want to know if Blackbeard is truly a monster, and are disappointed if he's not. They want Stede to be a killer, and mock him if he isn't.

Stede's drunkenness melts into self-loathing. He's been bought drinks for being a killer and for telling a story about Ed's violence, turning Ed, whom he last saw running off to find a boat to begin their new life together, into the monstrous caricature again. He knows the power that stories have over people and he’s now participating in transforming a man that he knows is kind and gentle and loving, who probably gave him his first truly loving kiss, back into an inhuman murderer.

The scene transitions into Izzy's attack on Ed, from Ed attempting to clean up the cabin and chat, to the caricature of Blackbeard, and finally the echoes of the crew, Stede's crew, calling for Edward. Izzy is a more explicit version of the underlying violence in the pub scene - the pressure on Ed to perform as Blackbeard, because "Edward better watch his fucking step."

The Blackbeard caricature itself works in tandem with Stede's description of Ed - from "he's absolutely lovely," a man in a dressing gown, grieving the loss of the man he loves, to "a bloodthirsty killer, born of the devil." Izzy is forcing Ed back into the caricature with threats and psychological abuse; Stede himself has narrated Ed into Blackbeard as he seeks the approval of men he barely knows. He has lied about who Ed is in order to better fit the story others want him to tell.

Both men are pushed into a spiral by vicious remarks that hit at the cores of their fears and insecurities. Both are threatened, or perceive that they're threatened, with physical violence - Izzy by getting into Ed's face, an act which we've seen produces a snap defensiveness, and Stede later when Doug grabs his shoulder.

I've written before how the potential of Stede's "Kraken" version of himself is shown and then shifted away from, when he's able to talk to Mary. But his descent is characterized by the lies he tells about Ed and the visceral memory of what real violence and death is. He’s trapped in the story of an aristocratic man who became a violent pirate, fought Izzy Hands, and knew Blackbeard, the bloodthirsty killer. And he knows that’s not his story at all. What he can tell Mary later is a story about love—a man whose name is Ed. He steps back into the right narrative.

Ed does not have a Mary. His descent only deepens, as he transforms himself into the caricature Izzy shoved in his face, trying (and ultimately failing) to shear away all the soft and gentle parts of himself to better fit the narrative, just as Stede does briefly in the pub and then at the gallery. The one thing he cannot destroy is his love for Stede.

Both Stede and Ed have been entrapped by the narratives around them—the gentleman pirate, the bloodthirsty killer. It’s when Stede gains control of his own story again that he becomes honest and sees himself, and is able to go back to sea to continue his authentic narrative, released from the stories with which others attempted to entrap him.

Ed still has to take over his own narrative. He can no longer see beyond the Kraken that he's been told is the only way he can exist, even as his love and his grief speak against it. The softness of his emotions are incompatible with the story he has to live. Unable to fit himself into that narrative, he decides to die instead, and solidify the story of the bloodthirsty killer. But his death allows him to face himself, and hear the stories he tells himself, and decide which of those stories he wants to manifest. Part of Stede’s role in season 2 is not to free Ed, but to help him free himself, to assure him that he’s loved for all that he is, and is not the story that others, including Stede himself, tell about him.

(gif by @llokilaufeyson)

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for starting shit with a 15 year old??

Alrighty here’s our cast:

I’m OP, I’m 19 years old, I’m FtM trans but not out nor have I started transitioning medically. I’ve graduated but live at home while I attend college

I have a little sister named “Janet”, she’s 16 and a sophomore. She’s popular, friendly, and had a big friend group

Janet has a friend named “Amy” who’s 15. Amy is the kid I think I started beef with

Okay for the story;

Janet is the leader of her group. She’s got the strongest personality and is the most sociable. Almost all the kids in her group are comfortably upper class while Janet and I are sitting very middle class. It’s always very jarring when I drop Janet off at a friend’s house and it’s a literal mansion.

Amy is who introduced Janet to this group, but it became quickly very clear that Amy has never been told “no” in her life. She’s controlling, spoiled, and jealous. Now, I’ve hung out with Amy before (Janet was there too, we were at a get together and Amy tagged along with us) and she’s a sweet girl, but definitely a product of her environment.

Now, over the last few weeks, things have spiraled out of control for that group. Amy got a boyfriend and has been repeatedly picked to spend time with him and made her friends (Janet’s group) feel like shit about it. Her boyfriend was always invited to group things, but Amy refused to let him join. She cited the other girls (who are all either lesbians or dating other boys) as trying to “steal her man”. She’s very insecure about herself and I genuinely feel bad for her

Recently, she’s been left out of group activities because she chose not to attend, but then later would send the group hateful messages on social media or would vague post about them being pieces of shit because they didn’t insist that she attend. Janet’s been under fire the most along with another girl named “Christina”. Amy even went as far as to out Christina as bisexual on Snapchat because Christina pointed out that Amy could have attended their Halloween party at any time as it lasted for seven hours

So Amy’s a mess.

Now, recently (again), Janet started talking to a boy we’ll call “Jeremy”. Jeremy’s a sweet guy, he’s in band, he’s still a dork because he’s a high school sophomore, but he’s still a cool kid. One day, Jeremy sends a bunch of screenshots to Janet from Amy. Amy, who has a boyfriend as mentioned above. Amy was not only flirting with Jeremy, but also talking shit about me and my family. She called my mom fat, said my dad was lying about having cancer (he’s a terminal colon cancer patient), called my twin sister an ugly control freak, and me a “gay whore who acts like a man” (LMAOOOO).

Here’s where I may be the asshole. I got Amy’s number from Janet’s phone and sent her what’s basically an essay calling her out for these insults and also threatening to screw her parents. I told her to never contact Janet again and that I hope she got over her insecurities. I know her insults weren’t directed towards me nor was I supposed to see them, but I can’t stand people talking about my family. I know I shouldn’t have contacted her, especially behind Janet’s back, but I wanted to defend myself and my family

Anyways, if I’m voted the asshole for sticking my nose in high schoolers’ business, I’d completely understand

🧐

^^^ so I can find this again 😭

What are these acronyms?

[0vereasy]

Life’s Creation and Love’s Manifestation (Dr ratio x reader)- Chapter 4: Late Appraisal

Summary: Your promotion as one of the heads of the Security Department at Herta’s Station was full of many headaches, one of the biggest being a visiting scholar from the Intelligentsia Guild, and delegate of the IPC, Dr. Ratio.

When you were forced to team up with him to solve several crises emerging at the Station, how will your tense relationship change? And what exactly is the Doctor hiding?

Taglist: @96jnie @boomie-123 @a2tral @ukiyo-ikigai @poemzcheng @kpopmenace143 @tseleven @rains-mae @comet-kun @thatanimewriter @lowlucifer @snailsposts @earthtooz @delightfuldragoncollection @soobinsgirlfriend @lvfel

COMMENT OR SEND ASK TO BE TAGGED

Masterlist

A/N: You can probably tell I’m pretty tired by the writing + shorter chapter, but I wanted to get something out. The original draft was longer but I wasn’t happy with the later half, so I thought I would just for with a smaller chapter this time and keep working at the later half for a better finished produce. This mainly serves as a transitional chapter anyway, with more action expected in the next one.

You know that stereotype where fanfic authors literally go through the craziest shit when they’re writing? Well the last few weeks I won my first trial as a law student, got a few good resolution for other clients all at once, ans started getting closer with my crush. So… I’ve been pretty busy as you can see lol. I have a term break in a few weeks, which is likely when the next chapter will come out, and where I will try to pre-write another chapter or two. Thank you all for being patient with the delay!

Chapter 4: Late Appraisal (3.8k+ words)

“I just don’t understand how this even happened!” you watched the short white-haired man pace around Herta’s office, his forehead crinkled in concentration and mouth twisted into a worried frown. You felt your head pulse with each of his footsteps, thumping in beat with the heavy taps of his feet on the tile floor, the ache getting worse with each motion he made. Aeons, you wish they never found you napping in the Seclusion Zone. At least then you could’ve dealt with your hangover in peace and quiet, “How could multiple researchers and a Herta puppet all go missing in one afternoon? Especially with our upgraded security! It just makes no sense.”

“If you let me go look at the security system, I could tell you,” you deadpanned, eyes trailing over to the office door briefly, as if contemplating some way to escape, before flickering back to your boss, “I don’t even get why you called me here, aren’t we wasting time with this meeting when we could be trying to fix things?”

“Wasting time?” Arlan rebutted, stopping his pacing and crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes narrowed as he looked at you, giving you little hope of making your escape from the office, “You know what’s a waste of time? Trying to track you down just to find out you were passed out drunk in the Seclusion Zone! Do you know how much time we wasted just trying to find you?”

“It was literally my day off, Arlan,” you huffed in reply, mirroring his stance by crossing your own arms over your chest, “I don’t have to tell you where I am all the time. Not anymore at least.” You let the implication of the words hang in the air, something that didn’t go over well with your usually mellow boss, who seemed to be getting angrier by the minute. But hey, if he was gonna push your buttons, you weren’t just gonna sit there and take it. 

“We’re in an emergency, Y/N!” he practically shouted at you, “It doesn’t matter if it's your day off! What would’ve you done if it was your day off when the Legion attacked? Stayed in your room and brushed it off?” You felt your body stiffen at his words, arms moving from their crossed state to hang loosely at your sides. You hated this; when you argued, when he used his knowledge of you and what would set you off for his own advantage. It was almost downright cruel. 

“Don’t talk about the Legion attack,” your reply was quick, emotionless as if you were trying to avoid thinking of it yourself, “You know that’s different. A lot different.” At this point, you were willing to run out of the Herta’s Office, meeting be damned. The ache in your head paused for a moment replaced by a dull pain in your chest, mind swirling with thoughts you’d rather forget. You were almost afraid of how you appeared to your boss right now. 

You watched Arlan’s eyes for the shift in emotion, hoping, praying that he was able to see where you were coming from. You saw it for a moment, like a flicker of hope burning within his purple orbs, before he blinked, sending the sympathy away from wherever it came from, “Is it though? For all we know, all of those researchers are dead! Adler could be dead!” You clenched your fist at the mention of the boy, the pounding in your head seeming to grow again. 

“I get it!” you exclaimed, throwing your arms in the air in frustration, “Which is why I wanna look at the security system to see how this happened! But instead were here arguing about stupid shit that doesn’t matter right now!” You watched as he began to pace around Herta’s office again, Herta’s holographic image of herself staring at the both of you, along with the other genius society portraits, as if they all were looking down on this conversation too. You couldn’t blame them. 

“You know why were having this conversation,” Arlan was quieter now, but still stern, “We needed you, and you there was no way to contact you!” He let out a shaky sigh before talking again, “We even started to think you were taken too!” You took a deep breath, attempting to let the anger inside of you simmer down at the genuine tone of his voice. 

“I already know that,” you sighed, “ Screwllum told me it all when he came to wake me up,” you raised an eyebrow, “You should’ve asked him sooner, I mean,” you tugged on your button-down shirt, holding back a wince at how the sudden action made your head pound harder, “You already know our relationship. If anyone knew where I was, it would be him” You released the shirt, begrudgingly moving a hand to hold your head now, unable to pretend that you didn’t feel like shit any longer. Arlan looked at you with an expression you couldn’t quite read; disgust? Pity? You’d honestly rather not know. 

“How much did you drink yesterday?” Arlan asked you, pausing his pacing again to change the subject, his expression still holding anger, but voice quiet, as if he was preparing to hear bad news. You thought about putting up a fuss for a moment, but sighed, preparing yourself to relent on this point, as if the alcohol was holding you back from hiding the extent of your poor state. 

“A bottle of wine,” you said simply, crossing your arms across your chest again. You almost looked stupid, standing in the office in your sweatpants and Screwllum’s shirt, confessing your problems, while Arlan stared back at you in proper uniform, leaving the power imbalance between you two evident visually and audibly,  “And a bit of Vodka,” you left the part about the vodka being in your water bottle unspoken, not prepared to deal his rant on that topic that the two of you had gone through hundreds of times before, though the pitying look on his face told you that he already knew.

“You really have to stop this,” Arlan said, voice losing the anger now, holding nothing but pity. Honestly, you preferred him angry. When Arlan became sentimental and looked at you like you were a lost cause or some sort of fuck up, for some reason nothing in the world felt worse. You didn’t know what it was; the way his lips curved into a frown like no other he ever displayed, or how his big eyes became downturned, a flicker of pain etched onto them and the rest of his features, “You can’t keep doing this to yourself…”

“I don’t want to talk about this,” you stared into his pitying eyes, hand from your head moving back to your side as you forced both your features and stance into neutrality as if that would fight off the emotions that threatened to spill from you.

“You don’t have a choice,” he said firmly, though not unkindly, “You know what I think about your drinking… what Asta thinks,” he let that name hang in the air for a moment, sending a shiver down your spine that made you wince, an action that didn’t go unnoticed by your boss. Arlan sighed, the sternness from before fading away into his usual kind demeanour, “You know I can’t control what you do; you’re an adult. But when your drinking gets in the way of your job; when you pass out somewhere where we can’t find you when we need you, thats when it becomes an issue.”

“Arlan,” you spoke his name, whether in warning for him to stop, or in frustration at the change in track of conversation, you couldn’t say.

“You know the Station is vulnerable after the attack… you know it better than anyone,” he said softly, “So we need you to be at 100% all the time… I know I already extended your hours after the whole incident from a few days ago,” you gritted your teeth at the previous punishment you had received due to your actions on the night that the stupid alcaster face bastard arrived, “but I don’t think that’s enough for what we need from you right now.”

“What are you suggesting?” you huffed, tapping a finger against your thigh impatiently. It clearly wasn’t the first time you received punishment and definitely wouldn’t be the last. At least that was something familiar in your life, you mused - at least something in your life could follow a steady routine. 

“... You can’t drink any alcohol for the rest of the month,” he said firmly, quickly speaking again when he saw you open your mouth in protest, “Okay, maybe not the month… but at least until we get the researchers back and solve the confidence issues… I need you sober right now, Y/N.”

“You know its not that easy to just… stop,” you muttered, eyes moving to look at your feet. Even now, early in the morning, probably a bit over 12 hours from your last drink, you felt jittery, like you needed something to quell your nerves. Without the alcohol, and even with the pounding head, things were too… vivid, real. It was overwhelming to experience the sensations in the world how they were meant to be seen without the dull drag of a foggy blanket taking over your mind. How were you supposed to go a few days like this? 

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, catching your glance as you looked back at him, “I don’t have a choice right now… let's talk more later, go, try to figure out why the security system went down last night.”

You opened your mouth, as if to respond, but allowed it to close again, turning your back to the man, “Whatever… talk to you later… Brother Arlan,” you left Herta’s office before he could respond to your use of his common teasing nickname around the station, not being in the mood to deal with another yelling match today. You unceremoniously slam the door behind you before you practically drag your body towards the elevator. Around you, you could hear the panicked gossip of various researchers, a sound that did nothing to calm the pounded headache that continued to make every movement a hassle. Part of you thought about talking to them - telling them that everything was under control. 

The other part of you recognized that you probably looked like a hot mess right now, and didn’t bother. They already didn’t trust you anyway - you weren’t stupid. If anything, approaching them would probably make things worse than it already was. So, you dragged your body down the stairs, onto the main floor of the master control zone and to the elevator, fully intent on not acknowledging anyone’s existence. 

It was only the sniffles of one specific person that made you do a double-take before you could press the button to call the elevator. Wen Shiling was a few feet behind you, trying to hide her sobs in her sleeve, but failing to do so, her small body physically shaking, evident even from your distance away from her. It was times like these when you wondered how children were even allowed to be researchers on this Station in the first place - it made you wonder how they could handle the stress that even you struggled to deal with. You paused, mind flickering between Wen Shiling and the elevator, sighing when you ultimately decided on the former, trudging your quiet body towards hers.

“Wen Shiling?” you spoke softly, bending down to be closer to her height, the action paining your head. Honestly, with your hangover and usual tone of conversation, you really had no idea how to approach comforting her… or anyone really, “What’s wrong sweetie, are you okay?” you hesitated before reaching a hand out, touching her gently on the shoulder. Her eyes seemed to water as she took in your form, a long sob escaping her lips. She looked from your hand to you, as if contemplated whether she wanted to move away, though she kept herself firmly planted in place. 

“No, I’m mad!” she cried, wiping her teary eyes on her sleeve. She offered you know no other words, too focused on stifling her sobs, which were still obnoxiously loud. You resisted the urge to cover your ears to block out the noise despite her cries doing nothing to soothe your headache. You gently rubbed your hand up and down her back, hoping that it offered some form of comfort to the girl. 

Though she wasn’t clear about the source of her anger, it was clear enough to guess, “You don’t have to worry about Adler, we’ll definitely bring him back soon.” Of course you left out the part where you had no idea where the little boy was or if he was even alive… but you really didn’t want to get into discussing the philosophy of life and death with a eight year old. Your mind flickered to Adler’s stupid book you had borrowed, the one you hadn’t cracked open since the night your… enjoyable evening with Screwllum was interrupted by the damned doctor you had been forced to accommodate. What if you never saw him again… what if he never got to talk to you about the book? You internally shook your head, focusing again on Wen Shiling in front of you. Aeons, if only you could have a drink to take the edge off…

“I don’t want him back… he’s stupid!” she sobbed again. You tried not to cringe at the snot covering the sleeves of her dress, forcing yourself to focus on her words, “He doesn’t talk to me and then disappears…! I don’t even want him here!”

“I’m sure he was just busy,” you attempt to soothe the girl, cursing the Aeons for failing to give you skills in soothing children. Deciding your ability to comfort children was lacking, you decided to only logically thing you could do was change your tone to match your usual personality, “You know, once we get him back I’m sure he’ll be sorry for how he treated you. That’ll serve him right, huh?.”

“He’ll be sorry?” she echoed your words, blinking dumbly up at you. You nodded in encouragement, hoping that you finally found some method to calm her crying. You forced yourself to plaster the a smile on your face, as if everything was fine and you weren’t currently feeling like death from a hangover and dealing with the aftermath of another invasion and your alcohol problem all at the same time. 

“Of course! Im sure we can even make him take an afternoon off his stupid ecology research,” you said with smirk, happy to at least let your genuine thoughts shine through for a moment before the inevitable hours of seriousness ahead, “I heard he’s horrible at board games, we could force him to play one beat him to a pulp.”

Wen Shiling smiled a bit, though her frown returned soon after, “Big sis… Can I ask you something? But you have to tell me the truth.”

Feeling like you were getting the farthest using your typical personality, you let your genuine thoughts ring through in your answer “Sure, I’m not a liar,” you shrugged, crossing your arms over your chest, “what’s up?”

“…” she hesitated for a moment before speaking, “Do you really think Adler is okay? … You think we’ll find him?” You stared at her for a moment, taking in her big brown tearful eyes and the snotty sleeves on her dress, an expression mixed with hopefulness and worry plastered all over her features. You forced a confident smirk on your face, placing your hands on your hips in mock confidence.

“I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.” 

It wasn’t your first time lying to a kid, and you were sure it wouldn’t be the last either. 

~~~~

Your head continued to pound as the elevator descended, countless sounds filling your head. Arlan’s yelling… Wen Shiling’s crying… it all fluttered around your brain like snow, casting an endless stream of emotions on your already overwhelmed brain. Your mind drifted to your water bottle which you knew sat on your desk in your room… would Arlan even know if you took a sip from it… He couldn’t right? How would he? There was no way he could actually expect to accurately record your sobriety, you thought to yourself. No, you just had to be sneaky with it - a few sips here and there to quell your thoughts… thats all you would need… just something to take the edge off. Even the thought of the alcohol seemed to quiet your brain, like a blanket may drive off heat on a cold night. If you were in your right mind, maybe you would realize how worrisome your thoughts truly were… but right now you really didn’t care.

“When an elevator arrives at its destination, you are expected to dismount it,” you blinked back into focus at the familiar irritating voice, eyes falling on to the Doctor. Dressed in his usual clothes, though lacking his alabaster head, he stared at you with a raised eyebrow, as if you were some sort of unusual specimen in his lab. In all honesty, you couldn’t blame him. You hadn’t even realized your elevator had arrived at the floor with everyone’s personal quarters, too caught up in your thoughts to notice, which left you standing blankly forward despite the door already having opened. 

“And when someone doesn’t get out, you’re expected to politely address them, not be a snarky asshole,” you shot back, forcing yourself to leave the elevator. Not ready to end the conversation, but not wanting the elevator to go away, the Doctor stepped inside, pressing the door open button.

“Your insults lack creativity when you are hung over,” he deadpanned, sighing - whether in disappointment or disgust, you didn’t know, “I suppose it doesn’t matter. I was looking for you, you need to come with me.”

You rose an eyebrow at the Doctor, “Uh, kinda in the middle of trying to solve a crisis right now,” you deadpanned, “I’m sure you’ve heard about it… ya know, missing researchers, faulty security system. Don’t really have time for whatever bullshit you’re up to right now.”

“You wound me,” he states, though his face shows no sign of any emotion, “Since when do I act without purpose?” He looked at you with disgust, as if he was shocked at the suggestion, “Of course I am aware of the current predicament and I wish to help you.” 

You cock an eyebrow at him, arms crossed in front of your chest, “And why would you do that exactly? What’s in it for you?” skepticism dripped from your tone, a fact that you knew was all too apparent for the Doctor, who met your gaze defiantly, “Literally all you’ve done since getting here is be a pain in the ass and then almost get me killed - your actions don’t really scream helpful.”

“I seem to recall I was helpful enough in procuring wine for you and allowing you to sleep in my presence,” he smirked cockily, brushing a stray strand of hair from his forehead, “Or do actions such as those not qualify as helpful in your dictionary?”

“The only thing that helped with is getting me chewed out by my boss, so thanks for that I guess, what a help you are,” you rolled your eyes, tempted to walk away, but for some reason forcing yourself to stay put, “I don’t know what the hell was in that wine you gave me, but I swear I’m not usually that… clingy.” You thought you should say more, but chose to stay silent deciding you already made enough of a fool of yourself, “Honestly I don’t even remember most of the shit I did last night.”

“Alcohol interferes with one’s ability to form long term memories, such a fact is really not suprising,” he said matter-of-factly, a cocky smirk coating his features. You barley knew this man, but he seemed to always revel in the ability of making people feel dumb, “Luckily for you, I retained my own memory of the evening, if you wish to recall more.”

“I’d rather not learn more things Arlan can yell at me about, thanks,” you huffed, forcing the conversation back to its original topic, “So really, why do you wanna help me? What’s in it for you?”

“Many things really,” he said casually, finger still firmly pressing the open button on the elevator door, “The satisfaction of helping idiots some a simple problem, the joy of reuniting the researchers with their companions… or the pleasure of building a diplomatic relationship between the IPC and the Space Station as I was directed.”

“Should’ve known of course it was about the diplomacy,” you smirked at him, propping an arm next to the elevator door, “You clearly wouldn’t act kindly on your own accord. Got your own boss who you’re afraid will chew you out like mine?”

The Doctor’s face soured at the mention of a boss, “I’d rather not think of my acquaintances at the IPC, they are not the most fond people to be around.” The scowl on his face made you interested in learning more, but the Doctor was quick to change the subject, “I merely offered my assistance to Miss Asta and she accepted. The mere certitude that doing so will satisfy my companions is simply a bonus.”

“Whatever, I don’t care if Asta got you to help, I have my own work to do,” you brushed him off, turning to move away from the elevator. You were startled when a firm hand grasped your arm, preventing you from leaving. The Doctor’s skin was warm, radiating heat through Screwllum’s dress shirt. His touch mass you freeze in your tracks, glancing over your shoulder at the Doctor. 

“I’m not asking you,” he said plainly, as if disgusted that you hadn’t picked up on that sooner, “You prescene has been requested.” You felt mesmerized for a moment by his presence, the scent of his cologne filling your nose due to your close proximity. His golden eyes seemed to bore into you, as if staring into your soul. It was the first time you really took in how… handsome he looked. Of course you had noticed before… you had eyes of course, but something about how he looked at you now seemed to awaken something within you, something you were desperate to push away, while at the same time wanting to cling on to it. 

Snapping into your senses, you yank your hand from his, crossing it over your chest once more, “Requasted by who?”

“Hmmm what was the word you used for it again?” The Doctor’s hand, now free from holding your wrist, went to his chin in contemplation, “Ah yes, that’s it. A situationship. Screwllum requested your prescene.” With his other hand, he let go of open door button, allowing the door to close behind him, “We’ll see you in the Seclusion Zone.”

[phoeebsbuffay]

Imagine you are Hayden Christensen's closest friend from college and you help him going through his divorce. Will friendship be enough for either of you? Based on the request made by @calzone-d ...

Warnings: *long post*, drama, explicit smut, fluffy endings.

Recommendations: "Summertime Sadness", "Ride", by Lana Del Rey; “Scared to be Lonely” by Dua Lipa; “Here with me”, by the Killers; “Always” by Gavin James.

***

How it started...

You were 19 years old when you finally got the chance to study cinema at Y/C's university. An old dream you had, to be able to transmit onscreen all your ideas. Your family encouraged you to pursuit the academy of arts in order to become an actress, but you thought yourself too introspective to act.

Well, here you were when you met him. The one who was destined to remain a principal figure in your life over the years. Taking acting classes--well, you did need to study it anyway--you bumped into Hayden Christensen.

"Excuse me", he said to you, a little out of breath.."Is this the acting class with Miss H/N? I fear I am slightly late..."

You remembered finding his blue eyes the handsomest pair of eyes you ever came across with: they were intense, secretive, but friendly too, somewhat emotional. You were instantly captivated.

"Yes, it is. And you are not in the slightest late, young man, but /very/ late indeed. Come in, take your seat, I'll have you updated..."

He gives you a long gaze, relieved for being saved from a bigger trouble—and you can tell he is a freshman like you.

“My name is Y/N”, you side smirk at him.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N. I am Hayden.”

You both shake hands. Something ignites within, but you think it’s because he has such a good aura…

*

“You are such a great actress!”, he is telling you, so many months later. “Quit with the production, you are better than me in decorating the lines.”

You grimace, which makes him laugh. The sound of his laughter is so comforting, like this call to your home.

“I don’t like this acting thing”, you dismiss his compliments nonchalantly. Today, you are in a cafeteria, celebrating the end of another semester. One more to go and you will be ready to keep up with your lives, though you and Hayden had vowed to each other never to be apart. “I feel more comfortable behind the cameras. By the way, I just had this idea!”

And then you lean to him, ready to shake him by his shoulders. He nearly chokes with his coke—but then laughing as always because your impulsiveness often brings him to laughters.

“For the love of God, woman. Do you want to see me dead before the time?”

You side smirk, silently apologizing with your puppy eyes. Hayden smiles back, before encouraging with what you had to say with only a nod. As you do, he seems to suddenly notice how nice your hair looks this day.

“I just had the greatest idea ever! I could film your audition and send to George Lucas. The Star Wars director is looking for someone of our age to portray young Anakin Skywalker. You know, before he becomes Darth Vader, of course.”

Hayden is taken aback by what you tell him. You can see the mix of sentiments that rises behind his blue eyes: insecurity, suspicious before reasoning to excitement.

“What? Are you for real, Y/N? How come did you hear about it? I mean…”

You tell him how your internship led you to it. This is how the fun begins, how both of you in fact begin your career.

*

You are there in every moment of his life: when Hayden has to conciliate his last semester with the filming of “Episode II: Attack of the Clones”, when he tells you that he and his on-screen romantic pair are having a thing.

He is also present at your graduation, the moment when you begin to transit to adulthood. What about it when you get yourself drunk for the very first time?

He is there too.

“I hate the taste of alcohol”, you grumble, unsure how come you are at his couch. “It aches my stomach, makes me sick.”

Hayden chuckles at how all of a suddenly you turn into these kind of discoveries after spending five years in college doing nothing but well behaving. However, due to such a strong bond you two share, he takes care of you.

“This is the moment where I tell you something you told me once: better to put out than to swallow all in.”

You raise your face, eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Did you just hear yourself?!”

“Wasn’t that what you told me?”

“No!”, you laugh hard at his remark. “Oh my God, H!”

He chuckles after you.

“Well, it did make you laugh, didn’t it?”

***

• The subtle changes…

You are single again. Your ex dumped you. Coincidently, Hayden is single as well. He’s also been going through a difficult phase in his life after all the critics coming from the fans of “Star Wars”. “Episode III” of the franchise didn’t go that well and even though it’s been a year since it’s release, he’s still affected by it.

“We’ve been through so much together”, Hayden tells you one day. “We should definitely do something new for a change.”

“I agree”, you sigh. Currently unemployed, you haven’t been yourself lately either. “Any thoughts?”

“A good journey would do us well. Let us go to Scotland”, so he says, excited. “Come on, Y/N. I’ll let you drive!”

You chuckle at his old tendency to be so reckless. And you do so because you can’t refuse him anything. A bad omen you clearly ignore, of course.

“Very well. When should we do this trip?”

But why’d you bother to ask when you know the answer? Hayden smiles warmly at him.

Oh that damn smile…

“Tomorrow. I’ve already bought the tickets and booked the hotel.”

You scoff at him, offended.

“What? Why? Are you taking me for granted, Christensen? For the love of God…”

Just like that he lifts you up and throws you over his shoulder, smiling as you scream out of surprise. As he puts you down, Hayden messes with your hair, delighted when seeing he’s the reason of your amusement.

And he realizes this is a nice view to contemplate: the sight of your smile, the sound of your laughters, the joy that sparks in your eyes… Seeing you like this makes him genuinely smile in his turn and forget about his bad phase.

But he doesn’t realize that this may mean something else. Or perhaps he doesn’t want to. It’s been years now since you and him became the closest of the friends, so what if all of this is just the result of genuine admiration from one friend to the other?

Regardless, he’s going to take you with him to Scotland. And so you go with him… It is wild to consider how you are usually all straight, not doing nothing that goes out the line all the whilst Hayden is more prompted to take chances and live the present quite intently.

On that fact you blame him being very aries all the whilst you, as taurus lady, prefer to know where you are going. However, he makes life so interesting that even you, as already observed, cannot deny him anything.

So here you are now at Edinburgh.

“I love everything that is medieval”, you tell him excitedly with a spark in your eyes that makes Hayden smile. He does like when you speak passionately about the things you are interested. “I cannot believe I took so long to come here!”

“Yeah, me neither!”

It is a good time to be alive, both of you agree. The landscape is seductive, peaceful, traits much sought after such a bad period you both went through. People too are kind, albeit reserved, but very pleasant.

Those days are being built in your memory as something great to be remembered, but perhaps there is just more that neither seem too attentive…

“Lady, one bedroom with two beds”, asks Hayden, when you got to London eventually because he, of course, is a man who plans very little—much to your distress, the woman who likes everything settled.

But this is not any hotel, but a fanciful one. The said lady looks at him pitifully.

“Mr Christensen, my apologies, but there is only a suite with one bed.”

You two blush, but Hayden somehow doesn’t mind it. This is when you realize you not only don’t mind it but you also want it…badly. Perhaps that’s why you sabotage it.

“You know what? Let’s make it for another day. Come now, Hayden. Thank you”, you blurt out, pushing him outside.

“What the hell was that?”, he frowns at you. “Y/N, what’s wrong with sharing a bed? Do you honestly think anything would happen or what?”

He doesn’t realize his words hurt you, but in truth there is more than his subtle frustration at your refusal allows him to admit. There is an unspoken rising desire between you.

And of course you have to ruin everything.

“I just… please don’t be upset! It’s because I cannot afford it and…” and you tell him the other reason for it, which appeases his anger and is more palpable than you’d care to admit: you are expecting an interview.

Hayden softens, naturally, but you know he’s changed. You hate it because you know why. There are so many things that suddenly rise in your throat but they die choked.

Somehow Hayden knows it too. But he chickens away. He hugs you instead, not willing to lose his best friend.

“I’m sorry for being such an impulsive jackass. But we did have a great time, didn’t we?”

Oh but if only you knew what waits for you back to US…

***

• The marriage

Here you are, dressed in yellow, standing as a maid in honor for the bride and groom. Your heart breaks because you realize a little too late that you are in love with your best friend.

Worse is: had you accepted to share one bed with Hayden in London, everything would be different. Yeah, you may not have gotten that job as a producer of that movie, but Hayden wouldn’t meet Rachel Bilson.

Nonetheless, here you are. Celebrating their vows, wondering if you could be there for a moment, what would be like if you were her.

“Hey, Y/Nickname!”, Hayden exclaims after the ceremony is over. He is wearing his gorgeous smile and dressed in fanciful robes, which all highlights his handsomeness. But you have learned to bury everything deep inside your heart. A secret that you’d take to your grave.

“I can’t believe you are married, Hay!”, you giggle when you greet him with a tight embrace. “I’m so happy for you! Oh my God, look how grown up you are!”

He laughs quietly.

“I know right? Who’d ever thought? The idea of marriage was hardly ever entertained for me”, so he says.

“Oh right! As I told Rachel once, I do have recollections of your drunkenness state and all that came between”, you laugh too, remembering the first time he had a hangover.

“What a time to be alive”, says Hayden in his typical good mood.

As you speak, you do seem to come to terms that if he is happy, so are you. You are at peace with it at long last. Hayden, on his turn, for a time seems to have suspected that you harbored feelings for him. But he always ignored it for the sake of your friendship. Now seeing how genuinely happy you are for him, certainly he believes it was all a thing of his head.

But why does he have a bittersweet taste of it?

“Could you introduce me to that man over there?” You nudge his sides, pointing to a handsome man that is not very far from Rachel herself.

Hayden raises an eyebrow.

“Really, now, Y/N?”

“You don’t expect me to be a nun, do you?”

He chuckles.

“Well I don’t want to see you get hurt, is all…”

Quite unwillingly, though, he leads the way. And maybe the night will not end that bad for you, after all.

***

•The divorce and the consequences…

In fact, looking back now it was really a great job pushing Hayden to introduce the guy to you because he ended up becoming your boyfriend.

This new relationship of yours, however, changed the dynamics of your friendship with Hayden for some time—but maybe it was all because he was living a different life now, becoming a father in the process.

A few years rolled upon, though, when everything started to fall apart—for you and Hayden. You found out that your new relationship was damaged because you and your boyfriend were scared to be lonely. A crisis developed to fights, to exchange of words that only broke hearts.

In the meantime, Hayden realized how long he missed his best friend. His own marriage started to fall apart, but the more it broke down, the more he needed you again.

Was it a selfish wish to have you by his side? Such questionings never reached you out due to his pride, that masked his hurt. Perhaps he was only scared to be lonely too. He could deal with it himself.

Nonetheless, destiny—the same destiny that pushed one from the other—is about to bring you two together again. One call and your night would be different.

You are single now, ready to go out that night with your girlfriends when suddenly a phone call startles you. It’s Hayden. Your heart races: he hasn’t been the one to call, and hasn’t done so for a long while.

“Hey, H. How are you? Haven’t heard of you for some time. Is everything ok?”, you ask, concerned.

There is a pause that accelerates your heart. You know he is not well. Before he answers, you immediately add:

“I’ll be in your home in a few minutes.”

“I’ll give you the new address. I’m not living with Rachel anymore: we got divorced.”

You are stunned upon those words. Now your silence leaves Hayden uncomfortable. He breaks it by saying:

“Y/Nickname? Are you there?”

“Yes, honey, I am. I’m so sorry, Hay. Please stay there… I’ll be on my way.”

He chuckles.

“Where else would I go to?”

In a matter of minutes, after requesting an Uber, you, dressed the way you are, arrive to his new home. Hayden side smirks when seeing you, though how he eyes you up and down makes you blush lightly.

“Wow, Y/N. Looking hot, aren’t you?”, he laughs when seeing the pink painting your cheeks, hugging you tight when receiving you. “Please tell me I didn’t ruin your night.”

You slap his shoulder playfully, eyes rolling at his drama.

“Don’t say bullshit to me, Christensen. I just wish I knew it properly before. I hope you don’t mind me looking like this.”

“You have always been a distraction to my eyes”, he teases you, pleased to see nothing has really changed between the two of you. “We need some wine, it’s not really a warming night, I suppose.”

As you look into his new apartment, he promptly gets the best wine to serve you. Without your knowledge, Hayden’s eyes follow your moves: noticing your y/c hair is now on your shoulders, how vivid your eyes are, remaining as observing and curious as before.

He cannot help admiring you physically too: though this is a cold night and you are dressed accordingly, when you drop your black coat on his coach, he sees your warming blouse shows some skin.

Indeed, Y/N, looking as hot and beautiful as always. Such is his thought.

He never really told you but Rachel was jealous of you. According to her, she could see you harbored feelings for him and part of her feared Hayden would correspond. Nonsense, he’d tell her.

But now, was she really so wrong? Yet, another and more important question he asks himself is: how could have he let go of you? Not only about matters of sentimentalism, but you’ve been an important piece of his life.

Seeing you back hurts his heart because he now sees the stupidity in letting go of you. He wishes he could have asked you to wait for him, to never let go of you. But this is such a state of complex selfishness that he quiets his internal riot and puts a smile on his lips when bringing the two of you the best wine he has, aware you prefer the sweet ones.

“I was admiring your new apartment”, you tell him, smiling in thanks as he passes you a full glass. “Whoa, looks like we are having a full drinking night, aren’t we? Christensen, I am not that young anymore. Not sure I am prepared to have a full hangover again.”

Hayden cracks loud and the sound of his laughters makes your heart skip a beat. Nothing feels different, you think, pleased.

“I’m bringing us something to eat, silly head. Besides I’ve always taken care of you, right?”

“That is true”, you agree. “But what are we having to eat today?”

“Always hungry, eh?”, he teases you.

You shrug playfully before saying:

“What can I do? I am a Taurus, you know it!”

He rolls his eyes, laughing loud again at your remarks—and that sound has always made your heart race, hasn’t it?

“Not with that astrology nonsense again!”

You slap his arm playfully before joining him in chuckles.

“Always with that astrology nonsense, silly.”

It is not until pizza is brought to you that the serious conversation is finally there.

“So what happened, Hayden?”, you ask him softly.

He sighs heavily, avoiding your gaze. He is silent, but you are patient, giving some time, for which he appreciates it.

“How often do we fall for the idea our minds make of the person?”, says he, sounding frustrated. “Not rarely we come to romantic ideas of marriage that break before the crude reality, you know? It’s not just about being different, Y/N, it’s… the commitment, I suppose, in making everything right. Turns out we had very different ideas of making it right.”

“I’m sorry, Hay. I really am”, you speak gently, taking his hand to yours, realizing how broken he is makes your heart sensitive to his pain.

He appreciates it, but when feeling your skin against him, Hayden is remembered the days before he met Rachel. The way he made you smile, the jokes that brought him to laughters. How easily it was to be around you, how you softened him. He, who was never a sentimental man, hugged you more times than he realized.

But Hayden sweeps away such memories.

“I am too. But I am fine now”, he shrugs. “I mean, not entirely recovered, but better than being broken.”

“Take your time, it’s the best you can do. How long has it been going on?”

Hayden hesitates but says:

“Six months.”

Your eyes go wide and your voice comes louder than expected:

“YOU HAVE GONE THROUGH A DIVORCE SIX MONTHS AGO?”

At least he has the decency to blush.

“Hayden! How could you keep me in secret for such a long time?!”

You’d remove his hand but Hayden doesn’t let you to. Pulling you to his side, he says, almost in a tone of desperation:

“I thought I could handle this by myself”, he explains. “I really didn’t want to bother you…”

Perhaps it’s the wine, but your tongue runs loose with words that have long been choked in your throat.

“And what am I to you? A second option, a plan B that didn’t work out? You’ve kicked me out of your life, Hayden. You’ve never called me to ask me if I was doing ok!”

He gives you a painful look that makes you regret instantly of what you said. You’d think he let go of you and a fight would come—this happened once when both of you were drunk, though by then you were both silly and immature.

“I’ve got a war in my mind for a long while”, he exclaims, holding your wrist and he pulls you even closer to him. “I was fucking stupid, I screwed it, I know. But never would I kick you out of my heart, Y/N! And I… I’m sorry I was fucking blinded by my pain. But only because I feared to hurt you.”

You await for his burst to end, very familiar with his intensity—but when his blue eyes search for yours, your soul is denuded.

Oh fuck.

“I stepped away because he was a douchebag”, he proceeds. “You deserved better than such a man, Y/N. I’ve heard of his doings but I couldn’t reach you out when… when I was in the mid of a crisis myself.”

“You’ve always been too shut in yourself to let others in”, you sigh. “But what relation is there with the fact I was in a relationship?”

“You deserved better”, he says with greeted teeth, holding your face with his hands, both of you barely noticing how your bodies have been dancing dangerously close to each other. “You are still slow after all this time?”

You are shocked, perplexed by his words. You freeze. Hayden smiles slowly at your reaction.

“I feel it everywhere, nothing scares me anymore. I won’t let you go. Now now, not ever. Fuck, I married the wrong person. Heaven has always been my favourite place on Earth when I was with you.”

“You have always been the best”, you mumble incoherently.

Just like that your lips clash against his. In between fervent kisses, where he pulls you to his lap, no reason is admitted. Not anymore.

“I’ve missed you, Y/Nickname”, he groans against your lips. “Like the sun misses the moon.”

“Always the romantic”, you chew his bottom lip as your hands run over his hair, pulling it gently. “Don’t want your memories anymore. Fuck, Christensen, you took so long.”

“This is not a game, I swear”, he breaks the kiss to pursuit your skin, his tongue already on your neck as his hands hold your hips, making you feel his rigid pants.

“Oh Lord. My worst sin is to never be able to refuse you anything”, you hate how wine makes you speak your mind.

Raising his head to watch you intently, he messes with your hair before holding your chin, drawing you closer to him.

Oh that intensity that involves one to the other!

“Then make me a sinner too for giving you all that you deserve.”

You crawl over him, you know you do, when your tongue pursuits his, one pairs the other rhythmically, perfectly. And then he lies you there on the couch, hands already working to remove your pants.

His eyes are set on yours like that of a hunter about to capture his prey. He knows you are on fire and that he is the gasoline. You lean partly to remove his shirt, hands all over him. You gasp when feeling his muscles under your touch and you want more, but…

“Patience, Y/Nickname”, his voice is husky and domineering when laying you down again.

“Yes, Master”, you giggle softly, in such a state that makes you both smile to the other.

And just like that his hands find way to your thighs, gently parting before inserting one right there in your feminine parts, not really taking away your panties for such.

“Oh, God!” You moan sensually, enjoying his eyes on you as he works wonderfully on you. “This is better than I thought!”

“Is it?”, he groans softly in your ear. “How long have you been thinking about it, dear one?”

“For a long while! God knows how much…”, another moan breaks you, earning him a smirk. “Hayden…”

“Yeah?”

“I fucked him thinking about you”, you admit.

His eyes dart, his body shakes lightly with desire. Slowly moving on top of you, his moves increase intently, watching you with desire.

“Damned be you for never speaking your thoughts to me”, he lifts your blouse gently but you help him removing it. As he starts to kiss your neck down to your chest, your legs begin to get heavy at his tenderness. “You should have spoken it to me…”

“Never had I the courage to do so”, you moan, enjoying having his hand over your neck lightly as he bites down your bra, slowly removing it with his mouth.

“For you should. It would have spared us some time. I fucked her thinking of you too”, he admits it drunkly before burying his lips to your nipple, much to your delight.

Hayden ruins you and it’s better than you could have thought. You want him to yourself, to make him unspeakable things but it’s difficult to do or say anything when his lips are so occupied with each nipple, twirling his tongue around it, sucking and biting it.

The sounds in his living room go louder each time. You are brought to heaven, and only then you take control of yourself again.

“Hayden…”, you barely speak when he finishes with you.

You both are a puddle of mess when you, nude, sit over his lap. You share a drunk look, one filled with the darkest desires for so long muffled, now brought to light.

“Yes, babe?” He kisses your shoulders, groaning as you rub yourself against his hardness. “Will you forgive me for such a behavior?”

His words are barely heard when his head is thrown back because your skillful hands find way to his pants and remove it so soon.

You glance at his manhood, impressed by how it is when it’s this hard under your touch.

“You don’t deserve forgiveness”, you giggle softly as you start rubbing it, enjoying to feel the drip of it. “You should be punished.”

He holds back a gasp at your words. Now eyeing you, interested in your upcoming moves. And when you slide to your knees…

“Babe…”

“Yeah?”

One glance. Unspoken words fill the air. And you take with his mouth at long last, not stopping until you have it all down your throat.

“For God’s sake!”, he gasps. “I can’t wait any longer to have you with me!”

All gentleness is left aside when he helps you settle on his lips and he slides inside you. To feel him throbbing like this, going so hard in you makes you arch your back.

“This feels so good!”

His hands move down your back as his lips pursuit your skin, licking and taking every bit of you—though he does know how much you enjoy when he takes his time around your nipples, which he does graciously.

But it’s not until his eyes meet yours, sealing your lips as much as you seal your bodies together, that all is at long last truly consumed….

***

• Nowadays

In a sober state, everything is better appreciated. Hayden watches as you gleefully prepare breakfast. There is nothing but genuinely love in his eyes.

What had started as an explosion of sentiments for so long kept in secret has now flown to what should have always been: a genuine relationship. From friends to lovers. From lovers to something better.

He smiles, not now missing the lateness of his realization that you have always been the love of his life. He stands and moves to behind you, holding you close and smelling your scent as you prepare him some eggs.

“What? I’ve been sensing your eyes over me”, you giggle like a little girl. “Don’t get me weak again, Christensen. This is so not you.”

He turns you at him and holds your face between his hands.

“I love you, Y/Nickname.”

Hayden smiles wide when seeing a blush painting your cheeks. And he beams when you tell him the same.

“I love you too, H. Though I fear I love you more.”

“That is not true”, he protests in between laughters.

But before you fall into that old cliche you and him enjoy in secret intimacy, breakfast is ready. As you two enjoy that morning moment, it doesn’t strike as how many years have passed before you two achieved it at long last.

“I have news to tell”, says Hayden with a bright smile on his lips.

You rest your chin over your hands and say:

“Well? Tell me at once.”

He appreciates all the love that comes from you. The way you look at him, how genuinely you listen and help him in every moment, how kind you always are, how sincere you speak your heart out. So many virtues and even your flaws he appreciates.

There is so much love between the lines and out of them too.

“I was asked to play Anakin Skywalker again.”

And how fantastic you are as his soon to be wife when you jump in his arms excited with his news.

“That is awesome, my darling! I’m so happy for you!”

“A better start than I could have thought”, he admits, pulling you to sit on his lap.

“You deserve it all”, you brush your lips against his. “I love you, my heart.”

“I love you, my soul”, he whispers back.

And this is the ending you deserve.

***

•Epilogue…

When you show up dressed in red—from your full lips to your body—Hayden feels something rise in his chest.

“My God, you look gorgeous, Y/N…”, so he says mischievously when you show up after leaving him waiting for 30 minutes. “It was worth the time…”

You giggle, blushing lightly after all this time. Your hair is loose wavily, put on side as you wear the necklace and earrings Hayden gifted you in your birthday.

“Don’t be silly. Have they arrived yet?”

The occasion is to celebrate Hayden and Ewan’s series “Kenobi”. Hayden’s aforementioned friend said he was going to pick them up in a limo so they’d go all together.

“They are about to… which leaves us a few minutes”, he places right behind you, holding your waist tightly.

“Hayden… It took me some time to get properly dressed. Besides, I…” you get lost at your words when he starts kissing your neck and his hands move up and down your back.

“What are you trying to say?”

Hayden smirks, enjoying the effect he has over you. It’s been some good years since you got together, but even now he manages to get you speechless.

“I…”

Your mind goes blank when he turns you to the mirror and see the naughty look that rests in those blue eyes. His hands move to your breasts, playing with your nipples before slowly exposing them.

“Hayden… they are….” You moan softly, struggling to keep your composure.

He turns you now against the wall of your bathroom, mouth dropping to your full chest all the whilst his hands move to your thighs.

“Hmm”, he sings softly, humming against your skin. “Hot as hell, wife.”

You try not to fall from your heels.

“Hayden!” You cry out when his fingers find all the way to you.

“You get your man on knees every single time. Getting me overzealous, uh?”, he smirks when going to his knees. “All wet for me, honey? Let me taste you thus…”

You are almost ruined as he does so, his tongue in you the way you want him to. You forget yourself, forget the reason why this expensive gown you bought three months ago was quite difficult to dress—precisely why you’d want to tell him by the end of the night.

You forget your state, you forget you should be checking time before your friends arrive. There is nothing to remember as he fucks you with his tongue deliciously until you are about to come undone…

Just like that he lifts your thighs and before you complain, he slides his manhood within, fucking you slowly and pleasantly.

“Oh God!” You scream but he has to quiet your sounds, especially because… the bell is rang.

“That was quick”, he manages to say breathlessly as he rushes to keep himself recomposed.

You giggle, suddenly shy as you do the same.

“Indeed…”

Hayden finds you adorable and peppers kisses around your face.

“They can wait a little. I thought you wanted to say something… you know, before…”

You two share a giggle and he smiles when you bury your face in his shoulder.

“I… I am pregnant, H.”

He hugs you closer. What a night, what a life with you is. Hayden Christensen could not have been any happier…