#he's trans now because i said so and ao3 agreed | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gerrystamour · 11 months

Text

here i have found some peace of mind [chapter two]

Rated E | Steddie

[ PREVIOUS ]

Steve gets to know 'Chris' a lot better. CW: This chapter deals a bit with dysphoria and deadnaming. Steve is deadnamed by a colleague in the chapter (which is based on a situation I actually went through and I'm personally working with HR to address). This chapter also delves into grief a little bit, particularly about the loss of a parent. Because apparently I not only wanted to process my Trans Feelings, but also my Grief Feelings. (Though my relationship with my dad before my dad passed was not strained) NOW INCLUDES AMAZING FANART drawn by my lovely lovely lovely friend Simon @sentient-trash !!

[ READ ON AO3 ]

longing for isolation, for starlit skies

Steve sat at his desk typing up an email to one of the event managers’ clients, quietly grumbling to himself about why he had to email them without any real heat. The managers were busy, and sometimes it just made more sense for Steve to email the clients outright. He would do it, he would just bitch about it while he did it.

“Steve.”

Looking up, he met Joyce’s eyes and cringed under her stern expression.

“Yes, Joyce?” he asked, but he already knew what this was about.

“I was looking through the turnovers. Did Nancy give you a group the other day?” she asked, and Steve looked at his computer.

“It’s just a band and film crew. I’ve already made contact with the client,” Steve said, his ears heating up when Joyce sighed.

“I’d like to speak to you in my office, please,” she said and walked away.

Sighing heavily, Steve finished the email he was working on, sent it, and locked his computer. When he got up and turned, Nancy was hovering at her cubicle and chewing her bottom lip.

“Sorry,” she mouthed, and Steve just rolled his eyes and trudged across the room to Joyce’s office and shut the door.

When he sat down heavily, Joyce sighed again.

“I’m not mad at you, Steve, so you can relax,” she soothed, and Steve tried to do just that. “I’m concerned because I don’t want you burning yourself out again.”

“I know. It’s just rooms, and it’s a band so it’s super easy,” Steve replied quickly. “She wanted me to handle it.”

“Then she should have turned it over properly and put it in the notes that she wanted you to handle it,” Joyce said sternly.

“Nancy seems to think that if she turned it over properly and asked for you to assign it to me, you would assign it to one of the other managers,” Steve said with a knowing raise of his eyebrows when Joyce looked away and cleared her throat. “C’mon, she has a point, Joyce.”

“That’s because if I agreed to assign every group she wants given to you, you would be back in the same mess you were last summer,” Joyce said a bit defensively. “Tell me about the group, and I’ll decide if you can keep it.”

“I already made contact with the client!” Steve said.

“And you were not actually assigned this group properly. If I decide I want to take the group from you, that is my decision to make as your manager,” Joyce said, standing her ground.

Steve sat up straighter and narrowed his eyes. “You would undermine your team like that in the eyes of the client?” he asked, and Joyce pursed her lips.

“And Nancy didn’t undermine me by assigning you a group?” she challenged, and Steve sighed heavily.

“It’s a band and film crew, about twenty rooms if I remember correctly. They’re arriving in July, have already sent the rooming list and the riders, and the tour manager has already received the confirmed rooming list,” Steve rattled off and leaned back in the chair to stare up at one of the motivational posters on the wall above his boss, getting ready for Joyce to take the turnover.

“Is there any catering?” she asked.

“Nope,” Steve replied, trying not to sound dejected. He really liked working with bands and film crews, so the two being combined? He was looking forward to it.

“Steve, you know I’m not trying to punish you, right?” Joyce asked imploringly.

“I know, but you’re also refusing to give me work that you know I actually enjoy,” he replied with a sigh as he looked back at her. “I know you’re worried about me burning out, but that means all I’ve gotten for almost a year has been small little meetings and pop-ups. I haven’t had a single tour, or band, or film crew in months and I’m starting to get sick of my work.”

“Why is this the first you’ve mentioned this?” Joyce asked, and Steve cringed at that.

“Because I knew you were just trying to help me, and I figured if I just kept going without complaining you’d stop babying me,” Steve replied honestly, shrugging one shoulder.

“Oh, Steve, I wasn’t trying to baby you or treat you like you were less capable,” Joyce replied with a big sigh. “And you telling me how you’re feeling about your work is not complaining.”

“Yeah, well,” Steve started, but just trailed off with another shrug. “Just… don’t give it to Tammy. She screws up rooms-only blocks like this every time, and I’ll practically be handling the group anyway.”

Joyce huffed a big sigh and shook her head. “You can keep this group. It has been a while, and I don’t want you burning out because you’re bored either,” she said and Steve looked at her, shocked. She still had a stern expression as she added, “I will be speaking to Nancy about going above me like that.”

“Of course,” Steve said quickly, so happy that he was keeping the group to feel bad that Nancy was going to get chewed out.

“And you! If you’re feeling that way about your work, you tell me, got it?” Joyce added firmly, pointing at him.

“Right, of course, absolutely,” Steve agreed, nodding quickly. Just then, there was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” Joyce called and Tammy, one of the event managers, poked her head in.

“Hey guys, sorry to interrupt, but there’s someone calling for Steve?” she said with an apologetic grimace. “He said his name is Chris? I have him on hold right now.”

Steve nodded and turned to Joyce. “Are we good?” he asked, and Joyce smiled and nodded.

“Yep, we’re good,” she replied and waved him off.

When Steve got back to his desk, he heard Tammy speaking to Chris before she transferred the call. Steve picked up on the first ring.

“Good afternoon, Steve speaking?” he said quickly.

“Good afternoon, handsome. How are things going in hotel land?”

Steve chuckled and rolled his eyes a little bit. “Busy, as always. Can’t complain though,” he replied as he tapped his pencil against his notebook. “How can I help you, Chris?”

“What if I just wanted to hear your voice?” Chris teased, and Steve rolled his eyes.

“I’m on the clock. How can I help you?” Steve asked again, but there was a part of him that was still flattered by the attention, interested in the attention even.

And so began the almost-daily calls from Chris. Steve never actually reached out from his end because there was no reason for him to until they got closer to the actual stay. It was always Chris calling him to make requests, to discuss the area a bit more, or sometimes just to chat. As their work relationship progressed, Steve found it easier to fall into more friendly banter, even returning some of the flirting.

Steve still refused to try to find out who the band was or look Chris up, but mostly because he didn’t want to give a face to the man he was talking to on the phone just yet. He knew that if Chris was even half as hot as he sounded, he wouldn’t stand a chance.

As it stood, most days Chris would call, they would discuss matters pertaining to his band’s stay in July for five minutes, then spend the next twenty just talking about other stuff. Usually, it was just Steve talking about his job and complaining light-heartedly.

“The worst way to receive a rooming list is as a PDF,” Steve grumbled into the phone as he painstakingly copied and pasted a rooming list into a spreadsheet. “Please know that if a Group Housing Coordinator receives a rooming list as a PDF? They hate the client just a little bit.”

On the other end of the call, Chris chuckled before stopping abruptly. Steve smirked a bit as he could practically hear the dots connecting in Chris’ head.

“Didn’t we send our rooming list as a PDF?”

Steve snorted. “Maybe,” he replied cheekily, and Chris groaned.

“Is that why you are resisting my charm?” Chris whined and Steve laughed.

“That, and I’m also on the clock,” he reminded Chris teasingly.

“You could always give me your number?”

Steve sighed and thought back to the employee conduct manual. It would be wildly inappropriate to give a client his number. “Not while you’re my client,” he responded, resolving to pull out the conduct manual and read it over again.

“So… after?” Chris pressed and Steve laughed.

“I’m not making any promises, Chris,” Steve sighed, chewing his lip while a grin tugged at the corners of his mouth.

There was some shouting on the other end of the call and Chris sighed. “Alright, Stevie, that’s my cue to go in a bit. I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”

Steve almost said yes, but then remembered he had requested the next day off. “No, unfortunately I won’t be in the office tomorrow. I’m taking a personal day,” he replied.

“Oh, doing anything fun or interesting?” Chris asked, and Steve actually grinned at how interested he sounded.

“I wish. Uh, nah, I have appointments and then visiting a cemetery, so,” Steve trailed off with a shrug before cringing. Chris couldn’t see him shrugging, what the hell?

“Oh shit, sorry. That was really stupid of me to ask,” Chris said, and Steve laughed.

“It’s all good, man. I wouldn’t’ve answered if it bothered me,” he admitted and on the other end of the line, Chris chuckled lightly.

“That makes sense. I’ll talk to you another time then.”

“Or you could relax and not call me again about your stay in July,” Steve insisted as he always did when they were about to hang up.

“Mm, no. I think I’ll continue to micromanage our stay, just to keep you on your toes, Stevie,” Chris replied and then hung up.

Steve sighed with a little grin as he hung his receiver up, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully.

“What the hell was that, Dingus?”

Steve nearly jumped out of his skin and looked up at Robin peering over his cubicle with wide eyes.

“Nothing,” Steve lied, and he could feel his face burning with his blush.

“Stephen, are you flirting with a client?” she hissed as she hurried around the cubicle wall to sit on his desk.

“No,” Steve hissed back, glancing around but thankfully no one was paying attention. “No, he is flirting with me.”

Robin gasped dramatically. “He?” she asked excitedly.

“Did you need something? Because I’m kind of busy,” Steve said, shoving his glasses up to scrub at his face.

“I texted you about food in Dustin’s Office, but you didn’t respond so I came to find you,” she immediately replied, smiling when Steve locked his computer and got up.

“I’m definitely in,” he replied happily.

“We’re talking about everything I overheard tomorrow, you hear me, Harrington?” Robin said as they walked, pointing at him accusingly.

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve sighed, rolling his eyes with a chuckle.

❖

The next morning, Steve woke up with his normal alarm, even though he technically had the day off. It was a bit nice, being able to get up and not rush through his morning routine. He even had time to make a proper breakfast and eat it while listening to an audiobook.

Steve took his time in the shower and then shaving and doing his hair. With a small grimace, he put on gloves and tried to hold his breath as he smeared his testosterone gel on his shoulders. Holding his breath never seemed to work as the sting of the alcohol evaporating always hit his sinuses.

Once he was showered and groomed, Steve went back to his room to get dressed. “Robbie, time to get up!” he called as he passed Robin’s room, pounding on her door without pausing in his steps.

Forty-five minutes later, Steve and Robin were in the car on their way to the first of several errands and appointments. The two of them tried to schedule as many of their things for the same day as they could so Robin wouldn’t have to worry about catching the bus. Plus, it was generally just better to have company for errands and appointments.

“So, what’s up with you and your client?” Robin asked around a yawn, scrubbing her eyes. She had been working a huge dinner party until two in the morning the night before, and hadn’t gotten home until after three.

“Nothing is up, Robs,” Steve muttered, trying to recall the perfectly good explanations he had come up with for what she overheard yesterday but drawing a complete blank. “He just calls a lot, and he just flirts with me. It’s nothing.”

“Okay, but you were definitely flirting back,” Robin said, and Steve shot a quick glare at her. “C’mon, Steve, I can tell when you’re flirting, and you were definitely flirting. I’ve heard you shutting people down before and you were not doing that. Maybe you thought you were, but you weren’t.”

“Fine, maybe I was flirting back. It’s not like it matters, or like anything’ll come of it. He’ll get bored eventually, and he’s only going to be in town for like… three days,” Steve said explosively, running a hand through his hair. “If we hook-up, and that’s a huge if, it’ll be super casual because he’ll be off to the next place, so, whatever.”

There was a long pause, the silence between them deafening.

“Steve,” Robin finally started, and her voice was the gentle one she only brought out when Steve was being especially reckless. “You know how you are with casual…”

Cringing, Steve tried to wrangle up some kind of defense against that. But it was true, it was largely why he struggled so much with dating and a huge factor in why he and Nancy didn’t work out. Steve’s feelings for people seemed to move at the speed of light with zero in-between, whether they were platonic or romantic. The reason he only had one friend was thanks to Robin being very similar, or at least receptive to having someone immediately prepared to die for her after two proper conversations.

“Like I said, he’ll get bored eventually,” Steve said instead of addressing Robin’s point out loud. “It’s not like he even talks about himself much.”

“Maybe you should ask him about himself,” Robin suggested, shrugging when Steve glanced at her questioningly. “If he’s just in it for some casual sex while he’s in town, he’ll probably avoid opening up, right? But if not… just because he’s not in town long doesn’t mean it has to be casual.”

Steve considered Robin’s words for a few moments, rolling them around in his head. “Maybe,” he conceded after a bit, ignoring the smug smile that split Robin’s face.

A few hours later found the two of them at the big cemetery near the posh neighbourhood where Steve grew up in the suburbs. It was one of the errands Steve dreaded, but he did it every year anyway.

Steve didn’t like visiting graves. It felt performative, fake, like it was an act he was putting on. There were better places for him to visit where he felt closer to that person than their grave. But Steve knew that if his mom arrived tomorrow and there were no flowers from Steve on his dad’s grave, she would immediately call him and demand an explanation.

He didn’t hold it against her, not at all. Melissa Harrington was amazing, even if she wasn’t very present in Steve’s life as he was growing up. She was doing what she could to make up for that, and even now that Steve had moved out to the city, they met up regularly for brunch on the weekends.

Steve’s relationship with his dad had been strained just before his unexpected passing. Thomas Harrington had grand ideas about Steve’s future, and he pushed Steve hard to reach that potential. He hadn’t done it cruelly, by any means, just thoughtlessly and without considering Steve’s wishes at the time. When Steve had gotten his first job at a hotel and fallen in love with hospitality, Thomas was not very happy and made his displeasure known.

Ultimately, though, Thomas had been coming around. He’d started showing an interest in Steve’s work and growth at his property. They were fighting less and enjoying each other’s company more often again.

One of the last conversations Steve had with his dad had been an aborted attempt to come out of the closet. Steve never got the actual words— “Dad, I think I’m a boy…”—but there was something in the way Thomas had gripped his shoulder firmly and pulled him into a tight hug that said he knew and that it was okay.

If Steve had known he wouldn’t get another chance to try again…

After a lengthy walk, they finally arrived at Thomas’ grave and Steve immediately began tidying it up. The graveyard was well maintained, so there wasn’t much for him to do, but it felt better fussing over brushing grass off the gravestone than just standing there. Once he was done, Steve laid the flowers on the grave and stood back up.

Robin had joined Steve on his annual visit to his dad’s grave since the first anniversary of his passing. She never questioned why he didn’t say anything when he was there, and she never tried to make him. It was the one reason he always visited the day before the actual anniversary to avoid running into his mom. Melissa would spend hours at Thomas’ grave talking to the gravestone, and she didn’t understand why Steve couldn’t.

It just felt weird to talk to a slab of granite in the middle of a silent field of slabs of granite. The body six feet below them wasn’t his dad anymore; that body stopped being his dad suddenly and quietly—painlessly, the doctors all insisted—in the middle of the night seven years ago.

“Need more time, Dingus?” Robin asked quietly, and Steve took a deep breath. Reaching up to rub his eyes, he found that he’d been crying.

Quickly wiping the tears off his cheeks, Steve shook his head. “No, I’m good,” he said, and he sighed happily when Robin tucked herself under his arm.

“We should get take-out tonight. We earned it after all our running around, yeah?” she said and wrapped her arm around Steve’s waist.

Steve smiled and nodded. “Yeah, take-out sounds perfect,” he hummed, tugging Robin in tightly against his side to kiss the top of her head.

❖

Returning to work the next day was hard, but Steve needed to keep up the momentum. If he took the rest of the week off like his mom always tried to get him to do, Steve would wallow and come back to work in a worse mood.

Unfortunately for him, he had the absolute displeasure to open his emails to find one of the above-property sales managers deadnaming him to not one, not two, but three different clients.

It wasn’t the first time she used his deadname in an email directly with a client. She did that a lot, and Steve was endlessly patient about it because he knew this came with the territory of not legally changing his name yet. The main system where this sales manager would see his name still had his legal one, and Steve reasoned that she oversaw too many properties to remember his preferred name.

It was different this time.

Good afternoon Martha,

Thank you so much for reaching out about your request to add more rooms to your block! I am connecting you with my amazing on-property colleague Carly (Steve) who will follow-up with you if they have availability. She will be delighted to assist you.

It was the first time she added his preferred name in parentheses like that with a double-whammy of using the wrong pronouns. Steve stared at the email, and then the other two and, yup, sure enough she did the same exact thing in every email. The kicker for him was the fact that the sales manager had, at some point, added her pronouns in her signature.

Steve drafted an absolutely scathing email that would absolutely get him fired if he actually hit send. The vent helped a bit, so he deleted it and focused on actioning the requests and replying to the clients. His signature obviously had his proper name and pronouns, so he hoped politely responding would make her look like the moron she was to the clients.

But he was set even further off-kilter by the whole interaction. On top of his grief, he felt like he was drifting outside of his body, above it and slightly to the left so that he could observe himself. Everything felt wrong, things he hadn’t felt dysphoria over in years crawling back up to suffocate him.

He felt nauseous at the way his hands moved on the keyboard or lifted his cup of coffee to his lips, the way he crossed his ankles under his chair or waved to Nancy as she walked past. Steve laughed at a joke Tammy told him, and the sound of it in his ears was like shards of glass and he just barely concealed his grimace long enough for Tammy to turn away. Steve caught himself chewing his nails at some point because they were too long, people could tell.

Steve was proudly out as trans. He managed to get his pronoun and pride pins approved against his property’s dress code and all of his public social media disclosed that he was trans. All anyone had to do was look him up online and they would know.

That didn’t mean he wanted to be seen as trans all the time.

He knew he was fortunate enough that HRT treated him well and he had been able to afford top surgery, so he “passed” pretty well. That meant he could have the safety of people’s assumptions in situations where that person might be hostile if they found out. Passing made his job a lot easier, even if a lot of his work with clients happened over emails and only face-to-face once they came to the hotel.

To be outed from the get-go in those emails? It, quite frankly, sucked.

The giant shit cherry on top of the shit sundae was that Steve had to renew his security badge with the airport that day, too.

All of his paperwork was under his legal name, obviously, but the security agent the year before had let him put his preferred name on his badge. When he made the same request to the agent this year, she argued with him about it in front of the other people in the pass office. The agent only agreed to put his preferred name on the badge when her manager came around to investigate the hold-up and gave her a stern look.

If Steve wasn’t so raw from everything else, he would have been grateful. However, he just felt sick, like he had bullied them into letting him keep a badge that didn’t have his deadname on it.

Like he was getting away with something because he was a big enough dick about it.

By the time he returned to his desk, he had more emails from the bitch from sales and one of the clients responded asking who “Carly” was, and Steve was ready to go home.

Just then, his phone rang, and he couldn’t even muster the energy to check who it was.

“Chicago In-Terminal Hotel Events, this is Steve speaking. How can I assist you?” he rattled off in his best customer-service voice given the circumstances.

“Heya, Stevie! You kinda sound like shit, man.”

Steve laughed humourlessly, even as something loosened in his chest at hearing Chris’ voice. “Thank God someone knows how to use my actual name,” he blurted before he could stop himself.

There was a pause before Chris sternly said, “Of course. What sort of asshole doesn’t use your actual name if they know it?”

“You’d be surprised,” Steve said vaguely, minimizing his emails so he didn’t have to look at them while on the phone with Chris. “What’s up, Chris?”

“Honestly? I’m just kind of bored and I missed chatting with you yesterday,” Chris replied, and his tone was so sincere that Steve felt bad that he was in such a messed up mood. “I know you’re on the clock, but if you have time…?”

Steve tapped his pencil against his notebook as he considered. He was in a rotten mood, but he already felt himself settling back into his skin, feeling a lot less jagged and wrong just after a couple minutes listening to Chris’ voice. That was a bit scary to consider, given the nature of their relationship. This guy shouldn’t have that much power over Steve’s moods, yet he did.

Remembering Robin’s suggestion from the day before, Steve decided to try that.

“Listen, Chris, I’ve had a really shitty day and talking about myself would suck for you,” Steve started slowly, taking a deep breath. “Maybe you could tell me about you? It feels like I do most of the talking…”

There is another long pause. “I dunno, man, there isn’t much to say about myself…”

Steve’s stomach dropped at the deflection. So, did that mean the interest was just casual on Chris’ end? He didn’t want to open up because he was just looking for a quick fuck, nothing more? Steve lied to himself and decided he could live with that, probably.

“Okay, sure. I’ll have to talk to you some other time then,” Steve said, his voice going tight.

“Steve, wait, don’t hang up. I didn’t—there’s just not a lot to talk about that isn’t already all over the internet, y’know?” Chris laughed a bit and added very quietly, “like, I’m surprised we’re even still talking at all at this rate.”

Steve frowned at the last bit, and reconsidered his decision not to sleuth out who the band was. Were there some shady details surrounding Chris Cunningham or the band he was managing the tour for?

“Dude, you—I haven’t even looked up the band you’re managing. I have no idea who you are,” Steve admitted, and the startled laugh he received brought a smile to his face. “Besides, why would I take what the internet says about you when I could get the real details directly from the source? Would you look at my socials and decide you knew me based on that?”

Chris chuckled. “I mean, I have peeked at your socials, Steve,” he confessed, and Steve felt his blush all the way down to his bellybutton. “I didn’t do much digging, I promise! I just—I’m very visual and wanted to put a face to your voice.”

“No, you’re all good, my public socials are, well, public for a reason,” Steve said with a laugh, chewing his lip a bit. “You, uh, like what you saw?”

Chris gave a quiet groan. “You’ve no idea, big boy,” he confessed softly, his voice deep and rumbling through the line, raising goosebumps up the back of Steve’s neck. Then Chris took a deep breath and asked, “okay, Stevie, what do you want to know about me?”

Everything, Steve almost said, and he barely stopped himself. “You mentioned your uncle once. Can you tell me about him?” he said instead, and Chris’ laugh was beautiful.

“My Uncle Wayne, literally one of the best things to ever happen to me, honestly,” Chris sighed.

“Only one of the best things?” Steve questioned curiously.

“I mean, the band actually breaking onto the scene makes that list,” Chris laughed, then added, “getting to talk to you is on there, too.”

“Shut up,” Steve laughed, blushing at how genuine Chris managed to make that absolute line sound. “Okay, tell me about your uncle.”

“Uncle Wayne basically raised me. I lived with my own folks until I was like, thirteen? I think? Then moved in with Wayne. My old man wasn’t a fan of my lifestyle and all that,” Chris explained, his tone flippant, like it didn’t hurt anymore, but Steve had a feeling that wasn’t true.

“It sucks that your parents were like that,” Steve said quietly, hoping Chris heard the sincerity in his voice.

“Yeah, but hey, I wouldn’t’ve met the boys or—yeah, the boys, y’know? Wayne taught me everything I know about guitars and music and shit,” Chris said fondly.

“You play guitar?” Steve pushed, a little embarrassed at how much more attractive Chris was with that little bit of new information.

There was silence over the line for several moments, long enough for Steve to get concerned the call was about to drop when Chris finally said, “Yeah, uh, like a little bit? I don’t play as much as I used to, and obviously not good enough to actually be in the band or anything.”

Chris was laughing at that in a way that didn’t quite sound forced but it didn’t sound real either. “Well, I still think that’s really cool. Always had a thing for musicians,” he teased instead, smirking at the startled laugh that bubbled out of Eddie.

“I’ll keep that in mind, Stevie,” Chris said, his voice low in a way that had Steve shivering.

The next couple of weeks passed with daily phone calls from Chris where he vaguely talked about his life prior to the band taking off, about the band mates and their antics. He mentioned a YouTube channel briefly once, and Steve was tempted to find it but… he liked getting to know Chris without that crutch. Steve liked the mystery of not knowing what Chris looked like.

Steve was really smitten with the way Chris talked about the people in his life, the way his tone would turn so painfully affectionate that Steve could see the smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Did Chris have dimples? He hoped Chris had dimples. Steve was always a sucker for dimples. Steve couldn’t help but wonder if Chris told his friends about their conversations, and if Chris spoke about him with that same tone.

If Steve also became a bit more active and a bit sluttier on his socials knowing Chris was maybe monitoring them, that was his business.

“You seem really close with the band for a tour manager,” Steve commented one day after Chris told him a funny story about the frontman nearly falling off the stage during a recent soundcheck. Apparently, he went to lean on his cane purely out of habit, forgetting he wasn’t using it at that moment, and was barely saved by one of the other band members.

“We’ve all been best friends since, like, middle school,” Chris said quietly, and Steve’s smile was big enough to hurt his face. “The band got serious about the dream in high school and then the five of us just… did what we had to to stay together.”

“That’s amazing. I only have, like, one friend that I’ve had more than a year,” Steve said, and he cringed at how pathetic that sounded.

“C’mon, no way,” Chris laughed, and Steve cringed again.

“I’m serious, man. I was… I used to be an asshole,” Steve confessed lightly, thinking back to the way he was in high school and his only attempt at college.

It was a lot of desperately performing a gender that felt wrong and overcompensating for his feelings of inadequacy. He remembered the way he lashed out and held people at arm’s length, the way he would sling cutting remarks at anyone who seemed to be thriving in their own weirdness. How dare they be weird and happy, when Steve had been trying so hard to be normal and was so miserable for it?

Steve felt bad for Carly when he looked back on those memories. She wasn’t real and, on some level, she knew that, even back then when she had no vocabulary for it. Not being real was scary, confusing, painful, and like a wounded animal she bit and clawed anyone who came near enough to see how hollow she was.

That didn’t mean Steve stood by those actions, that he didn’t feel immensely guilty for them, but he was working on showing compassion to that part of himself. It was something he learned in therapy the handful of times he actually went.

“Hm, well, you don’t seem like an asshole anymore,” Chris said, breaking Steve out of his thoughts.

“I’m trying everyday not to be,” Steve agreed, smiling as he tapped his pencil against his notebook.

Chris paused for a bit, sighing. “Go to dinner with me,” he said abruptly. “We’re at the hotel for three nights, right? Go to dinner with me.”

Steve’s breath left him in a whoosh at the blunt request. It was more of a command and that thought left Steve feeling a bit lightheaded. “You’re my client—” Steve started, and Chris made a bit of a noise.

“The way I see it, I stop actually being your client at five that Friday when you clock-out, right?” Chris said a bit suggestively, and Steve blushed.

Steve had looked up the employee conduct manual and the official rules were that dating clients was allowed as long as it happened off the clock and off-property. Their phone calls were blatantly against those rules, but they discussed enough about the room block each time to justify the conversations a little bit.

“Stevie?” Chris sounded so unsure that Steve instantly felt bad for letting his brain run away with him.

“It definitely has to be when I’m off the clock, and we can’t have dinner on-property,” Steve practically whispered into the phone and Chris made a triumphant little noise that brought a grin to Steve’s face.

“Fuck yeah, Stevie, I can’t wait! I know the perfect place!” Chris gushed and then some shouting in the background caught Chris’ attention. “Yeah! I know—I’ll be there in a—fuck off Garebear, I’ll fucking cut you—Stevie, I gotta go, okay?”

Steve laughed and nodded. Grimacing as he reminded himself that Chris couldn’t see him, Steve said, “yeah, of course. Talk to you later.”

“You know it, gorgeous,” Chris cooed and then dial-tone was droning in Steve’s ear.

It took Steve probably a full minute to actually hang the receiver up and wipe the grin off his face.

[ NEXT ]

[ READ ON AO3 ]

Thank you so much for reading! Please consider reblogging!! Taglist! @scarcrossdlvrs, @sidekick-hero, @afewproblems, @mylilplanet, @starryeyedjanai, @steddieas-shegoes, @estrellami-1, @hellion-child, @princess-eddie, @pluckedstrings, @patchworkgargoyle, @findafight, @spookednsaucy, @inairbinad, @lillemilly, @matchingbatbites, @lets-try-to-be-normal-otakus, @scoops-stevie, @steddierthings, @bylerwillnotwriteitself, @indigohightide, @vecnuthy, @stobinesque If you want to join the taglist, just request it in the tags or reblog comments!!

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve/eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fic #gerry writes #peace of mind

170 notes · View notes

kaizoku-musume · 6 months

Text

Stuck in the Middle

Entry #4 in @xxsycamore’s Visions of Temptation kinktober event. Forget the awful title and card? It that what the photo is called when it's used this way? I don't know, I need to learn how to personalize better lol. Link to this fic on AO3.

Fandom: Bustafellows

Pairing: Teuta x Shu x Crow

Word count: 2.4k

Prompts: Spit-roasting | Double penetration

Other content warnings/tags: trans!Crow, I use a mix of feminine and masculine terms (cunt, pussy, cock)

“I think if I’m fucking him, you should open him up.”

“While you put on the harness, you mean?”

“Um,” Crow muttered.

“Exactly! Not that it takes long, but it’s just time-effective, you know?”

“Mm, good idea.”

“Uh,” Crow tried again.

“Did we want to switch positions after or do you think that’ll be too much for him?”

“I think with this being the first time, he’ll be too overwhelmed by that point. We can keep it in mind for a next time.”

“Are you guys seriously doing this right now?!” Crow burst out. Teuta and Shu paused their conversation to simultaneously look at Crow, who was fidgeting on the bed, nervously tapping his knees while he knelt there. His eyes darted between their naked forms, arms crossed as if to hide his own bare body.

“Oh,” Teuta said in realization, “Sorry, Crow. I thought you’d be more comfortable if you were aware of the plan, but I guess Shu and I should have figured it out first and then told you, huh?”

“Why does there need to be a plan in the first place?” Crow asked, an embarrassed flush on his cheeks, “Can’t you just, you know . . . do it?” Why had they suggested this in the first place? Just the name of the position had Crow wanting to hide his face, and now they wanted to put him through this?

Shu, thankfully sensing Crow’s distress, leaned over and kissed his forehead. “You’re right,” he shared a look with Teuta, “there’s no need to draw things out.”

“Yep!” Teuta agreed, catching whatever meaning Shu had imparted to her, “No need for more discussion!”

“Come on,” Shu gently urged Crow onto all fours, “I’ll take care of you while Teuta gets ready, yeah?” Crow bit his lip and nodded, shuffling awkwardly as Shu settled behind him while Teuta got up to put on her harness. Crow watched as she opened the bottom drawer of their nightstand and picked out the one with the double-sided dildos. She glanced back at her boyfriends while she teasingly ran her hands up her thighs until she was cupping her core. Shu was clearly watching as well, because he mirrored her movements on Crow, fingers dancing along his skin until he palmed Crow’s pussy.

They must have been sharing one of their looks again, because Teuta angled herself in order to face them better as she played along. With a slight flush to her ears, she traced her labia for a solid minute before finally pressing a finger inside herself. Crow wanted to beg her to hurry up as Shu fingered him as slowly as Teuta was preparing herself. Everything she did, Shu did the same to Crow; if she paused, so did Shu. If she started using three fingers, so did Shu. “You guys aren’t being fair,” Crow complained, unable to rock back on Shu’s fingers because of the older man’s grip on his upper thigh.

Shu casually suggested, “If you want fair, maybe you should eat Teuta out next time we do this.” Teuta and Crow whined, but thankfully that seemed to be the kick Teuta needed to finish dragging things out. She bit her lip as she slipped one end of the dildo inside her. Crow whimpered in-jealousy? Sympathy? Anticipation? All three?

Shu pulled his fingers out of Crow’s cunt and tapped his hip as he moved across the bed to kneel in front of Crow. “Got him all ready and eager for you, Teuta,” he said, because he was a jerk who loved to mess with them.

“Shu!” Crow chastised as Teuta hopped up onto the bed behind him. Perhaps unintentionally, she mimicked their earlier move of sweeping her hands along his thighs, appreciating the view or something equally embarrassing.

“Hmm?” Shu cupped Crow’s chin and tilted his head so that Crow was looking up at him. “Shouldn’t you be proud of how wet you get for us?” Shu gave Crow one of his patented smirks, the kind he used on them-and only them-often precisely because it sent Crow and Teuta into a tizzy. His voice dripped honey-sweet as he added, “Don’t you know how good it feels when we can glide right in your tight heat?”

Crow whined high in his throat, his legs spreading even further apart on the sheets without his say-so. God, Teuta had a front row seat to the way his pussy clenched at Shu’s words, the fresh round of slick that dribbled down his thighs, and she made that known with her own desperate sound. Crow’s face must be sunburn red by now.

Shu slid his thumb sensually across Crow’s bottom lip. “Now, are you going to be a good boy and open up for me?” he prompted. Crow whimpered and did just that, jaw dropping open like it was only held up at Shu’s will. Shu briefly pressed his thumb inside, just a tease, before pulling it away and replacing it with his cock. He slowly fed his length into Crow’s equally wet and hot mouth until he was nearly fully sheathed, unmoving for the moment. He motioned to Teuta that it was her turn, dropping his hands onto Crow’s hair and shoulder, scratching lightly to soothe him.

Teuta guided her cock to Crow’s entrance, pressing in gradually, giving Crow time to adjust to the fullness. “You’re doing so good,” she rubbed his back as she pushed further and further into him, feeling a bit sorry for the way he was shuddering from the pressure, “Just a little more and then I’m all the way in and we can take care of you.” Crow managed to murmur in acknowledgement, causing Shu’s hand to clench on his shoulder.

A few more seconds and Teuta was buried to the hilt. Everyone took a moment to breath through their respective sensations. “We’re all good?” Shu asked, voice held tightly under control despite Crow’s small noises vibrating around his dick.

“Mmhmm,” Teuta hummed, eager to move. The dildo inside her, while a perfect length and width to satisfy her, can’t do anything sitting motionless inside her except be a tease. Crow, speared between the two, made his own noise to show his agreement.

With that confirmation, Teuta starts rocking into Crow, pulling out almost halfway before fucking back into him. The motion pushes him forward and back onto Shu’s cock in turn-he could probably brace himself against the momentum but Crow doesn’t trust himself to be able to actually pay attention to maintaining that sort of coordination. Teuta started out gentle because she knew this and didn’t want to make Crow choke and gag. She trusts Shu to keep an eye on what Crow can handle, anyway; if Shu tells her she can speed up, she will.

For now, Shu is admiring the sight of his lovers. Teuta looks like she was born to wear a harness, despite her hesitance in the beginning of their relationship. Her hands were cinched tight on Crow’s waist as her hips rolled to a mesmerizing rhythm, her breasts bouncing with her thrusts. She always got the most focused look on her face whenever she fucked one of them, breaths panting out of her like she couldn’t bother to pay attention to breathing evenly because watching her silicone cock sliding in and out of whoever she was taking was more important.

Crow looked just as delicious, bento over on all fours between them, his pretty, talkative lips wrapped around Shu’s cock. His hands clenched in the sheets as he was caught amidst dual sensations, and he was already whining and whimpering on Shu’s dick, resonating throughout Shu’s body. He occasionally glanced up at Shu, shy looks that accompanied his beet red face, the flush starting to spread to his ears and neck.

Shu fought against the urge to buck forward. Crow could probably handle it-for all his insistence that he was a delicate flower, he could certainly withstand a lot-but the point of this wasn’t to overwhelm him. Not too soon, at least. And he was content with the power of Teuta’s thrusts driving Crow forward and back, forcing Crow to take in about two thirds of his cock. Spit dribbled past the tight seal of Crow’s mouth; Shu swiped at it with his thumb, causing Crow to moan.

“Think I’ve got the best view out of all of us,” Shu couldn’t help but point out. Shit, this might be one of his favourite positions when it came to the three of them being involved at the same time. It was probably only just beaten out by the time Crow rode his cock while Teuta rode his face.

“Wll, I’ve got a pretty nice one too,” Teuta countered. Really, she and Shu had equally good views, she thought-it was just a matter of it being a trade-off. Sure, she couldn’t see Crow blowing Shu, couldn’t see the way his lips must have been moving over his cock, could only see his head bobbing, but she could see how Crow’s cunt swallowed her cock, how his hole clenched around the shaft like it was trying to suck it in further. And she got to see Shu’s face try to maintain composure as Crow gave him head, got to see him look between Crow and her, openly appreciating both of them.

“I bet,” Shu conceded, eying what he could of Teuta’s cock rocking in and out of Crow. “I think he can take more,” he said, combing a hand through Crow’s hair, “He’s been handling this very well.” Crow jerked his hips back onto Teuta’s cock at the praise, knees sliding along the covers.

“Got it,” Teuta patted Crow’s hip, “Crow, I’m going to speed up now.” On her next thrust, she pulled out until only the fat, mushroom head of her cock was still inside him before shoving forward. Crow jolted and moaned, the sound muffled, but he didn’t display any pain or start choking, so Teuta did it twice more in quick succession just to make sure. When Crow seemed to have adjusted, Teuta started fucking him just like that: quick, deep thrusts that rocked his body.

The added speed and strength forced Crow to take in even more of Shu’s cock, the tip of his nose brushing Shu’s pelvis on each thrust forward. Shu groaned and buried his hands in Crow’s hair, fingers tightening in the strands whenever he felt Crow’s throat convulse around him.

It was thanks to Crow’s surprising but earnest dedication to learn how to deepthroat, achieved after months of practice that Shu in particular reaped the benefits of, that he was able to handle this without gagging. Crow knew to relax his throat, keep his jaw loose and open wide, and hold his tongue flat so Shu’s cock could glide across it and ease the way. Crow focused on breathing through his nose as Shu’s cock battered his throat and Teuta’s cock battered his pussy. He could feel himself clench down on both of them, body squirming in pleasure. Crow was so wet his slick was seeping out of him, drenching Teuta’s cock and his thighs. The squelching sounds of Teuta pounding into his soaking pussy filled the room. His mouth was overflowing with saliva too; Crow swallowed every now and then to try to lessen the amount he was drooling, spit coating his chin.

Teuta reached around Crow’s waist to drag her fingers through his folds and press against his hole, feeling where her cock was buried. Crow keened and Shu tipped his head back, hips twitching minutely forward. They were all close, she could tell, and while she may be teasing him right now, it would probably be easier for Crow if he came last. Right now, her goal was to get him to make a lot of noise so Shu could come first.

So Teuta adjusted their positions slightly to strike Crow’s g-spot on every other thrust while she pinched and rubbed his labia, the cock inside her grinding against her own sweet spot. True to expectations, Crow’s keening got louder and more frequent, a near-constant sob that had Shu cursing.

“Fuck, I’m close,” Shu warned. Crow whined and sucked with renewed vigor, hollowing his cheeks with effort, tongue tracing Shu’s shaft. Shu growled and finally chased after Crow’s mouth, bucking forward when Crow pulled back, once, twice, three times before he was coming, spilling down Crow’s throat. Crow immediately swallowed what he could while the rest dribbled past his lips like his spit, coughing slightly for the first time. Shu leaned back, his softening cock slipping out of Crow’s mouth.

Crow panted raggedly, finally allowed to try to catch his breath. He didn’t have long before Teuta brought fingers slick with his own juices to his cock, rolling it between her index finger and thumb as she rapidly fucked into him, chasing her own orgasm now that she didn’t have to worry about Crow choking. Crow yelped and collapsed onto his elbows, the new arch of his body allowing Teuta to angle them so the harness’ cocks struck both their g-spots at the same time. Crow felt Shu run his hand through his hair and scratch behind his ears, heard him purring soothing words even if he couldn’t focus on them as he gasped against the bedspread.

“Oh god, Crow, oh oh oh!” Teuta cried as she rocketed toward her own orgasm, hips colliding with Crow’s. The leather grinded directly against her clit while the dildo nudged against her g-spot, and all of a sudden she was crashing through her orgasm. Teuta shrieked and clung to Crow’s back as she rode it’s waves, jerking her hips into Crow’s in order to draw it out; she had just enough wherewithal to continue stroking Crow’s cock until she heard him shout and felt him shudder through his own orgasm.

They rocked together for a few more moments before collapsing onto the bed, Teuta still on top of Crow, thoroughly exhausted. Shu chuckled and patted them each on the shoulder before gently rolling them apart so Teuta wasn’t crushing Crow. he took care of removing the harness while Teuta splayed out sideways on the bed like a starfish, muttering something indecipherable. Crow stayed laying face first against the sheets, groaning half-heartedly as he recovered.

“Wow,” Teuta said, eyes sparkling despite the lack of energy in the rest of her body.

“Yep,” Shu agreed on his way to the bathroom to get a clean wash rag for them.

They were definitely doing that again.

#My fics #Bustafellows #Kinktober #Visions of Temptation 2023 #Fanfiction #Age appropriate

6 notes · View notes

1pando · 7 months

Text

An actual response to all the skittlechild shit

(cw: suicide, censored gore and nsfw, transphobia/transphobic language, harassment of a minor)

Before all of this I just want to say that I don't personally agree with the stuff that skittlechild did. Even if skittle is 14, I don't appreciate the idea of him sending another minor NSFW images. However, that does not mean that I think he deserves any of what I am about to describe to you.

So I'd like to show just how fucking awful the people behind the skittlechild callout post are. On discord they go by: weirdestal, shitpants, and bendersbigscore (who is also on ao3). On Tumblr, weirdestal goes by @orelpupp, benders has deactivated their account, and I don't know what shitpants' acc goes by. weirdestal and benders are both around skittle's age, and shitpants probably is too.

(They changed their usernames to fuck with him)

To make this even worse, one of them confessed to drawing this in a call:

In case you don't realize like my dumb ass didn't, this is Kim Latchkey in her high school years, which would make her a minor. Nevermind whether this is actually a bad thing to make, attempting to drive someone to suicide over the same kind of art you make is fucking atrocious in its hypocrisy.

And now for the actual worst part: Sending him horrific gore images, sone of which are of mutilated penises.

(VERY DISTURBING CONTENT AHEAD)

This is the name of the group chat that the gore was sent in. Threatening skittle like this was a bit of a repeated occurrence, as can be seen below. The coordinates they send him weren't his house and instead of somewhere called "butthole road" though, so I doubt they'll actually doxx him. It's probably just an intimidation tactic.

Now for the real shit. Milo is benders, and the person with the hello kitty pfp is weirdestal. Brace yourselves.

Also note the transphobic language used above. Skittle is trans, and this is clearly why such things were said. When I confronted weirdestal about this, they called me an "emo fag." While I am not trans per se, I am bisexual so I can be attracted to other men. Still doesn't make it any better either way.

They don't take anything seriously. They don't care about the safety of anyone. They don't care about the morality of what he makes. The only thing they want is for him to either suffer or die for no apparent reason.

Overall, I take back what I said about cutting ties with him because the callout post was made purely with the intent to drive a 14 year old child to ending their life and nothing else. What skittle did was not something I encourage of anyone, regardless of age, but at least he wasn't trying to make people end their lives because he could. A 14 year old boy deserves far better treatment than this, regardless of whatever excuses are given.

Go to their tumblr and discords. Mass report them and maybe even tell them to piss off if you feel like it. People who do what these people do shouldn't be on the internet, regardless of their age. No behavior justifies this, and they need to face consequences for this. Please repost this to spread awareness.

#moral orel #moral orel fanart

5 notes · View notes

theliterarywolf · 1 year

Text

Alright, let's compile some spoiler-related asks under a Read More. There's four here so, uh... Plenty of reading

Anonymous asked: Holy shit, Submission-anon here. I was actually considering mentioning how much Zora's domain bothered me in Totk this time around. Glad to see I'm not the only one, and I hope it's fine I add my thoughts on that to my submission about my observations on Yona's character, since I feel it REALLY plays into WHY the entirety of Zora's domain feels a lot less... fun, emotional and personal, like it did in Botw, or even Aoc. Anonymous asked: Zora's domain was my fave in botw 🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃 sounds like it'll be my least fucking fave this time around fuck Anonymous asked: Dorephan deciding Sidon is straight, so he can have a go at Link. I'm only saying one thing: 20 liters. Anonymous asked: The straights are at it again /J But seriously, not going to be "QUEERPHOBIC!HDHUYDB!" Bullshit argument for loz, but I will point out that when someone says "This chick kinda sucks I think link fits better with this other fem character!" You get shitton of support or at least no real backlash, even if she's "only a friend". But if you say "I don't like Yona." even non shipping related, so many people will throw a tantrum and claim it's because "you wanna make link gay, dudes can be friends"

Anon 1: Feel free, anon.

Anon 2: I mean, you'll probably still have fun. I will say that reassembling the Zora Armor was interesting, at least...

Anon 3: First of all, I can't get over 'deciding' because I want anyone who has played through the Zora's Domain portion of TotK to look me in the eyes and deny that it honestly felt like Dorephan was more excited to see Link than Sidon was.

Like, yeah, after the Water Temple when Sidon went down on one knee to present his vow to Link and all, but still...

...Also, you just had to add that cursed tidbit at the end there, huh?

Anon 4: I feel that we have been seeing a more vocal amount of headcanon brainrot with ToTK as of late. Because, yeah, even though me and another anon were joking about Yona being a beard, they were just that: jokes. Some people out there are legitimately trying to cry homophobia because of her introduction and it's just, like I said, Sidon is a Prince (well, now a King but whatever), he is Dorephan's ONLY HEIR because Mipha DIED, he has to get married in order to keep the bloodline going. This isn't hard to understand.

But, also, I want to take a moment to point out the obnoxious level of 'this character is X and if you don't agree you're a bigot' as well as 'why do the alphabet-soup people ALWAYS have to make characters gay or trans?!'

Because I know where the upsurge in all of this came from: that interview that Aonuma gave where he was talking about 'oh, we always develop games with Link being more nonconforming to gender'.

And, of course, that should be taken as Link is more of a slate for the player to project themselves onto, no matter what gender or sexual-orientation, to create a more immersive experience.

But then we ended up with people going 'So, Link is trans then? It's canon, suck it homophobes!' And then legitimate edgelords going 'Link can't be a tranny, stop projecting onto everything!' And then there's that back and forth while rational people in the middle are just trying to live and vibe with 'In my headcanon, Link is a GNC man and Sidon has two hands and I'm happy and not bothering anyone'

So there's what was mentioned above and that animosity leaches over to conversations about Yona (people on both sides thinking that the only reason she's disliked is shipping)

Anyway, I'm just going to stay in my corner, enjoy this game at my slow-to-medium pace... And brace myself for the 'jealous wife'/'fujoshi wife' fics that will inevitably fill up the SidLink tag on AO3 because people forget that polyamory is a thing.

#Spoilers #so many spoilers #tears of the kingdom

2 notes · View notes

pleasedonthurtcjstar · 2 years

Text

Soup

ao3

Summary: Emilia is just about done with her boyfriend's, Patton, shit. Trans Emile Picani now Emilia.

Characters: Patton Sanders, Dr. Emilie Picani, Roman Sanders (mentioned)

Warnings: Abuse, violence, force feeding

Tags: Unsympathetic Patton sanders, Trans Emile Picani, Not Beta Edited/Read

A/N: I did a roleplay with someone 2 years ago with a person I’ve cut contact with. I told them back then that I’d post it, but I never did. Until now. Patton Sanders x Trans Emile Picani. Nicknames: Millie, Emmy, or Lia.

This is before and after the cut. If you don’t see the other message, F in chat and go read this on ao3.

This is before and after the cut. If you see this, hi.

Emilia was in her's and Patton's room, she hasn't said anything all day, and that seemed to make Patton a bit more calm than usual. So she just stayed silent. She didn't want to anger him.

Patton laid on the bed looking at his phone occasionally laughing at dogs and birds. They were so cute. “Emmy honey bunny” Patton speaks. His voice soft and caring but it was fake. He looked over to the female across the room and waited for her to turn around.

Emilia was scared of what he was gonna do, but she turned around to look at him. "Hmm?" she said, in the sweetest voice she could manage to someone so cruel and vile.

“Are you hungry? Because I’m starving. We should eat something” Patton asked however not giving her anytime to answer. He rolled out of bed and stud up, fixing his cardigan on his shoulders. “Mmm why don’t we have broccoli and cheese soup. I do believe it’s your... favorite?”

Emilia didn't like that, it was actually her least favorite, but she just agreed and nodded her head anyway, she didn't want to piss him off.

They walked down the hallway to the kitchen and Patton made the food. He hummed as he cooked occasionally looking over to make sure Emilia was still in his presence. Once done he poured the soup into their respective bowls and set them on the table. “Eat up, Sugar”

Emilia started eating, blowing on it a bit to make sure it wasn't too hot. She ate it slowly, she hated the taste, but she knew she had to eat it or else he would get mad at her. After a few more minutes, she had finished her food.

"Oh that was fast. you must really be hungry. Would you like some more?" Patton asked standing up grabbing her bowl and went to go pour her some more. "i wouldn't want you to be starving haha"

"Um,no thank you." Emilia said, smiling, fakely. "Th-Thank you, though."

Patton paused his actions in the middle of the second spoonful. He was turned away from her so she couldn't see his face. "Oh? Are you sure?"

Emilia was going to try and stand her ground this time. She knew it probably wasn't going to work, but she could try..."Yeah, I'm sure."

Patton turned smile returned to his face. "Oh but I," he pauses quickly placing the bowl down in front of her. "I worked SO hard on this sweetheart. And is just I'm worried that you're starving yourself. Please eat. I care about you"

Emilia sighed and started eating again, she was really full when she was about half way done with it. "OK, I'm full. Really."

“But you’re not finished?” Patton pushed up his glasses.

"I-I know....I...I can't finish the rest..." Emilia couldn't bring herself to look up at him, she kept her head down.

Patton slammed his fists on the table. The bowl shook, moving a little closer to Emilia. “Eat it or face the consequences”

Tears came to Emmy's eyes, she whimpered, but scowled and clenched her fists, "Whatever! I'm used to all of your shit, anyway! Not like you haven't done it before!" Her tone was spiteful and full of venom.

In quick movements Patton grabs on to Emilia’s hair yanking her out of the chair and onto the floor, throwing her onto her knees. “Alright, let’s play your game” Patton spoke through gritted teeth.

Emilia hissed in pain, "MY GAME? Fucking bullshit, YOU'RE the one that's playing a 'game'."

“Shut the fuck up bitch!” Patton helps loosing his cool, that is if he hadn’t lost it already. He shoved her shoulders attempting to make her fall onto her back. Grabbing the bowl of soup she wouldn’t eat he pours the leftover onto of her. “You’re just trash. You know you are! You’ll always be trash!” He yelled smashing the bowl on the ground beside her leaving white multi sized chunks of Ceramic all over the floor.

Emmy burst into tears, but she didn't care. Nothing mattered to her at this point. She got up to her feet and kicked Patton in the groin and ran to their room, locking the door. She was going to call Roman and tell him about what happened.

Patton had fallen to the ground after Emmy’s little stunt. But soon he was back on his feet. He walked toward the door. “EMILIA, WE’RE GONNA HAVE TO HAVE A TALK ABOUT WHERE YOUR FOOT BELONGS.” Once he reaches the door he found that it was locked.

“Lia honey” he calls through the door knocking on it softly. “Open the door,” he pauses, taking a breath to help ‘calm down’. “Baby? Open the door for me. I’m sorry”

Emilia had an urge to unlock the door...she tried to believe him...she really did...but, she couldn't. Her face immediately brightened as she saw that Roman answered the phone.

“Lia” Patton calls one more time knocking on the door. When he received no answer he left the door, going to go get the necessary tools to get through the door. He could just throw himself at the door but that was nothing like Patton. He came back with a hex tool. Slipping it into to the small hole he turned it counter clockwise until he he heard the little click sound signaling him that the door was now unlocked.

Emmy had known what he was gonna do. So she was now hiding in the bathroom, climbing through to window. She had nowhere to go, but she wasn't going to put up with the abuse anymore. She carefully climbed out of the window and bolted down the street, frantically explaining to Roman what had happened.

Patton opened the door and saw that the door leading to the bathroom was open and that the window was also open. He hopped the window and started to chase her down

Emmy was not going to stop. Her heart was racing and her feet hurt, but she rushed to the police station as fast as she could. Patton wasn't going to catch her...not this time.

Patton was a faster sprinter. He ran after her. He was so close to catching her, but she was also so close to the police station. Also it would be weird if he tackled her in public. It was cause too much attention and raise eyebrows. Everyone has cameras these days, he couldn’t risk it.

Emmy quickly ran into the police station, frantically explaining to the lady at the front desk what happened. She was bawling her eyes out.

Patton watched as she hurried inside the station debating if he should follow her. Maybe he can make the police believe she was crazy. He decided to walk in behind her.

“Emilia ?” Patton called huffing and puffing. “Why’d you run away? You know you need to take your medication. You get all weird and crazy when your off of them” he says attempting to touch Emilia.

Emilia glared at him, "Don't fucking touch me. I have the scars and bruises to prove what you've been doing to me." there were certain reactions and facial expressions to tell when someone was lying, and Emilia had none of those. She was telling the truth.

“I- heh,” Patton was taken back by this sudden defiance in public. Emilia never did that. He looks between the front desk lady and Emmy. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I can’t believe you’d say I’d give you scars and bruises. You know it was from your abusive parents. Darling, please come home and take your pills. You’re not thinking straight.”

Emilia was about to talk, but she was interrupted. "I'll look on her medical record to see if she actually takes medications. And, we'll have an interrogator come and see who's really lying." the lady said, clearly taking Emmy's side. Emilia smiled at her a bit, "Th-Thank you."

“But that wouldn’t be necessary, ma’am” Patton tries. “It would simply be a waste of your time. My girlfriend is just acting out. This can be fixed, trust me”

The lady shook her head. "we take this stuff seriously, sir. And, I might only work at the front desk, but I sure as hell can tell when someone is lying, and you, sir, are lying." her voice was sharp and snippy. She then smiled and turned over to Emilia "Your name, ma'am?" she asked. "E-Emilia Garcia."

Patton face turned red. And in anger he screamed out “BITCH!” Before storming away. He grabbed Emilia’s upper arm, his grasp tightly making it unable for her to escape. He dragged her unwilling body behind him, heading for the front doors.

Emilia was screaming, kicking, and crying, just doing anything to try and get herself free. She then felt relieved when she was picked up by someone else and watched as Patton was arrested. She finally felt safe and free for once..

“No! Let go of me!” Patton yelled struggling to get free from the officers. He was tackled to the ground, pinned with his cheek squished against the tile floor.

“Sir, calm down!” The officers spoke over him.

“Absolutely not. You don’t understand! She’s not mentally ok! She needs me. She won’t make it. She’s- she’s harmful to herself and others!!!” Patton was lifted off the ground hands tightly cuffed behind him as he was escorted, unwillingly to the back. “I FUCKING HATE YOU EMILIA!”

Emilia whimpers and burst into tears, his words hurt her...so much. She then felt someone grab her hand and hug her. Emilia saw it was the front desk lady and she hugged back, sobbing.

#patmile #patton sanders #emile picani #patton x emile #unsympathetic patton #u!patton #trans emile picani #PleaseDontHurtCjstar works #fanfic #sanders sides

2 notes · View notes

hekate1308 · 1 year

Text

Present Blessings, A Drowley Advent Calendar, December 10

Masterpost

Read it on AO3

He stared at the phone and read the message over and over again.

Because this wasn’t possible.

Dean couldn’t have healed Kevin Tran’s lactose intolerance by a handshake. That just wasn’t –

Alright. First he was going to see what Dean was doing in the kitchen, and then he would deal with this.

But of course his guest took one look at him and guessed. “Is everything alright?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Dean shrugged and concentrated back on the eggs. “Just checking.”

Just checking. He didn’t think anyone had ever checked up on him just like that, except for Gavin. But that was not true, was it? Dean wasn’t just checking up on him – he considered him his… well, his charge, or whatever angels would have called it –

“Has Kevin been in contact then?” he asked casually.

Crowley blinked. “How –“

“I wasn’t reading your mind, don’t worry. Just figure something had to have shaken you up a bit.”

He didn’t get shaken up but he wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of arguing. “Yes” he instead admitted because he would figure it out sooner rather than later anyway. “He is apparently no longer lactose intolerant.”

“I am glad to hear it. He seems like a good kid.”

“He’s an excellent employee”. That at least was true.

Dean nodded. “So, do you believe me now?”

The thought that he and Kevin Tran had been working together all along had occurred, but it made absolutely no sense. Apart from the fact that he could have sworn their meeting yesterday had been their first, why would they play such a long con just for… Dean to have access to Crowley? “Fine” he therefore said, “Let’s say that I might consider believing you eventually.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “OF course I get the skeptical one” he muttered so quietly that Crowley wasn’t sure he’d been meant to hear him.

“Well, you can’t just expected me to accept the existence of the supernatural.”

“Why not? All you humans have come up with regarding electricity and something almost reminds me of our powers sometimes.”

He sounded… almost wistful?

“If you say so.”

Dean nodded. “So now that I have proven to you that I am angel, we should speak of your s- “

“I certainly never agreed to anything just because you could hear someone” he said smugly because he had been vey careful not to.

“Oh no peaches, that’s not how it works. How am I supposed to get my wings if you doN’t play along?”

“It seems to me that this hardly my problem.”

Dean turned around and there was something of the power and wisdom millennia of watching humanity would bestow on someone in his gaze. It was almost enough for Crowley to take a step back. Almost. “Listen to me. I am not going to – I just won’t leave. You can’t do this. So get used to it.”

“Or what?” he challenged him.

They stared at one another, then Dean lowered his gaze.

Well then. Point for him.

To his annoyance, though, he suddenly realized that he felt guilty. Guilty because the unhinged man wouldn’t get his imagined wings.

One step at a time. “So you are going to come work for me?”

“That was the plan” Dean who had by now finished cooking, was plating their breakfast. “And you have to admit I’m a great PA.”

“You are adequate for the job yesterday.”

Dean snorted. “Can’t imagine why you go through so many each years when they receive such compliments.”

As a matter of fact, his former Pas had rarely heard a compliment because most of them had been incompetent at best and utterly useless at worst. Rather the opposite of Dean.

Especially because breakfast proved to be as delicious as dinner last night.

He still stood by the fact that he didn’t want his other employees to see them arrive together. It would look terrible, and start rumours he wouldn’t be against per se, but which could possibly undermine his authority when they thought he was dallying with an employee.

Dean acquiesced, and only after the driver had picked Crowley up did he wonder if he would wear something different today.

As it turned out, he was indeed wearing a different suit, but still had the headset and clipboard.

He’d also made it to work before Crowley, which he considered unfair use of his angelic powers since otherwise, he wouldn’t have made it.

“Good morning, sir” he said brightly. “Your coffee’s almost ready.”

“Good morning.” He sat down at his desk as Dean started reading out a list of his appointments for the day, and why they were or weren’t important.

Yes, most definitely a very good PA.

And wasn’t that just another proof that sometimes, life was really unfair.

#my writings #spn #drowley #advent calendar #crowley #dean winchester

0 notes

amberskywrites · 2 years

Text

Loss for Words

Masterpost | AO3 Link

Fandom / Genre: Stardew Valley / Fluff & Light Angst

Pairing: Elliott/Reader

Warnings: Implied/Referenced Transphobia (in the past), lmk if I need to add anything else!

Prompt: Requested by @hartlee-sux :

Elliott x trans!male farmer, set during the 10 heart cut scene. After the confession and the kiss from Elliott the farmer comes out to Elliott about being trans, nervous he won't want him because, well, he's trans. Maybe when Elliott comments the farmer is trembling, that leads into the farmer coming out?

Note: Sorry for this taking a while 😅 lots of exams since I last wrote anything and it was really draining. Hope you like it!

Summary: Or, Elliott's 10 heart cut-scene goes a little differently when the farmer feels like he needs to come out.

You hadn’t been sure what to expect when Elliott invited you to the docks, but you had known that whatever it was would be nice because it meant you could spend time with Elliott. For a long while now, your thoughts would drift to the writer, and ever since the release of his book, it’s been harder and harder to focus.

But it was a nice kind of distraction. The kind that left your heart fluttering and a dopey smile on your face.

Of course you’d agree to whatever Elliott had planned. You could hardly imagine rejecting him.

You ran your fingers over the rowboat he had fixed up, a soft smile on your lips as you pretended to think about his offer of a maiden voyage, as though your mind wasn’t already made up.

“Sure,” you finally said, your smile growing as you looked back at him.

He returned the grin, and before you knew it, you were a little ways away from shore and Elliott was turning to you fully, no longer rowing out to sea. You gently drummed your fingers on your knees as he took a deep breath.

“So my book’s been out for a while now…” he started. “It’s not a best-seller or anything, but it’s been getting some good reviews from the critics.” Elliott’s face flushed slightly, his expression softening and he leaned forward a little, all his attention on you. “And I really couldn’t have done it without your moral support.”

He chuckled slightly, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “Actually… that’s not true. I would have finished it either way. But… I am grateful that you believed in me… in my vision… And, well…” he laughed nervously, diverting his gaze for the first time since he began speaking.

“Ah… how do I say this?” His face turned a darker shade of pink as he looked to you once more. He took a shaky breath before reaching for one of your hands, and you let him take it, giving it an encouraging squeeze and ignoring the thundering of your heart in your ears.

“Well, we’ve been friends for a while now… But I’m… I’m not sure if I feel that way about you anymore.”

Your eyes widened and you jerked back slightly, almost like you’d been burned. “What?”

Elliott flinched and frantically shook his head, squeezing your hand as though to keep you in the boat, like if he let go you’d decide to jump ship instead. “Agh! No, no! Sorry, that’s- that’s not what I meant. I don’t- I don’t want to cut ties with you or anything like that, I swear. Yoba, that was a terrible way to phrase things-” he said in a rush, closing his eyes tightly and taking a steadying breath. “I meant the opposite, actually,” he said after a moment of composing himself.

His cheeks continued to turn darker hues of red as he considered how to phrase things. You took the chance to calm down from your own momentary panic, heart still beating quickly but no longer racing. He laughed after a few more seconds of silence.

“Sorry, I… I’m trying to think of how to phrase this, but… but for once, I’m at a loss for words…”

He idly rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb, grip turning soft. You tilted your head.

“Is there… Is there a way for you to say it without words?” you asked, finally able to find your voice again.

Elliott hummed quietly, his gaze flickering over your face for a moment before nodding. He scooched closer to you, and with his free hand cupped your face. Your eyes widened as he leaned forward but stopped just centimeters away. He stroked your jaw lightly with his thumb.

“May I?”

You swallowed thickly, your face feeling incredibly warm that you suspected you were flushing more than him. It took great effort to nod minutely, so distracted by how close he was and the fact that he was holding you so gently and then-

And then his lips pressed to yours and you just melted.

Suddenly both of Elliott’s hands were on your face, holding you like you were the most precious thing in the world, and it could have been seconds or hours before you pulled a breath away, a realization dawning on you.

You never told him.

Yoba, you haven’t told anyone in the valley you were trans yet, have you?

Lewis knew, since he’d known you since you were a child, but he swore to keep it a secret when you’d asked. As far as anyone else was concerned you were a cis guy.

The thoughts began to race.

What if Elliott didn’t…

What if he had a problem with that?

Logically, you knew that he probably didn’t, but you’d met plenty of people in your life who did. Sometimes the people who appeared the most accepting turned out to be the most bigoted people you had ever encountered.

If Elliott was like that…

Faintly, you heard Elliott say your name as he pulled just a bit further away. His lips were tipped downward in a tiny, concerned frown. “Are you alright? You… you’re trembling…”

Upon him pointing it out, you realized you were indeed trembling. You looked down at your shaking hands and it was getting a little harder to breathe now.

He said your name again, his expression growing more worried as seconds ticked by with you still trembling and silent.

Yoba, you had to tell him, didn’t you?

“I… I’m…” He took both of your hands in his now, giving you his own encouraging squeezes as you fumbled for the words. You swallowed thickly, your mouth suddenly feeling very dry. “I need to tell you something… before this goes any further.”

Elliott nodded slowly. “Al-Alright.” He chewed on his lip, searching your face. “Take your time, okay?” He smiled sweetly, reassuringly, encouragingly.

You exhaled slowly, gripping his hands tightly and closing your eyes.

Oh, please be fine with it, you thought. Please, please, please…

“I’m… trans.”

Silence.

Elliott’s hold on your hands loosened slightly, and after the silence continued to stretch on you chanced a look at his face.

He was still frowning slightly, but it had eased up since you had last looked at him.

You internally winced, took a deep breath, and rushed to get the words out before they failed to be spoken at all.

“I’m a trans man. And- And I probably should have told you before, but I didn’t think it was- I just, I don’t know, didn’t think I needed to, it never seemed necessary, but then I started liking you a lot and then we just kissed and I realized I never told you and I know that lots of people don’t want to be with someone who’s trans and you have a right to know before it got serious and I get it if you don’t want to be with me after this, really, I do, just-” You finally stopped to take a breath, Elliott’s frown having gotten deeper as you had rambled. “Yeah,” you finished lamely, refusing to look him in the eye.

Elliott bit his lip lightly but his hands tightened in yours ever so slightly, and your face burned as you realized just how strong your grip had gotten during your little speech. You made to pull them away but Elliott held them firmly in place.

He said your name softly, almost sadly. He repeated your name when you didn’t look up, and it wasn’t until he said it a third time that you finally met his gaze.

“You being trans doesn’t change how I feel about you,” he whispered, leaning into your space but it wasn’t suffocating, and you found yourself unconsciously leaning closer as well. “I… I’m sorry you felt obligated to tell me, instead of when you wanted to, if ever.”

You exhaled slowly, and there was a stinging in your eyes. “It… really doesn’t change anything? You still… want to be together…?”

He smiled softly, reaching up to brush your cheek. “Yeah. And, if this relationship doesn’t work out - I have no doubt that it will - but if it doesn’t, then know that you being transgender would never be part of the reasoning, okay?” He leaned forward and kissed your cheek, giving the hand still clasped in his a reassuring squeeze.

You sniffled and giggled at the same time, nodding.

You felt lighter now, less like something was constricting your lungs and weighing down on your heart.

Looking at Elliott now, you returned the small smile and moved to give him another soft kiss.

#stardew valley #stardew valley elliott #amberskywrites #sdv elliott #elliott stardew valley #x reader #sdv #transphobia #implied/referenced transphobia #fluff #light angst #farmer sdv #stardew valley farmer #stardew elliott #ambersky #(ask to tag)

79 notes · View notes

greensaplinggrace · 3 years

Note

do you have any darklina fic recs?

I certainly have a few! But first I want to clarify that I don’t really read fic when I’m writing it, and since I have so many fics in the works right now, I haven’t really been reading a lot of fanfiction. So this list probably won’t be as extensive as it could be.

Here are some other great fic recommendation posts, however:

DARKLINA FIC RECS by @vicioux

DARKLINA FIC RECS // part ii by @vicioux

Darklina Ruling the World Together Fic Recs by @clubofthestarlesssaint

Tumblr Ficlets

Aleksander’s First Memory by @kestrafagnor

Fivan Talk About Darklina by @jomiddlemarch

a little light in the great, big dark by @valkyrhys

Alina tells Mal she’s with Aleksander by @lorsanbitch

Darklina week day 5: intimacy & touch by @starlesscne

AO3 Fanfiction

if it ain’t me by larry_hystereks (Incomplete - 10/13 Chapters)

alina’s in her second year at Yale when she meets aleksander at one of his frat parties.

a hookup with the potential for more, only if alina wasn’t still struggling to piece herself together from last year’s breakup.

or: alina, zoya, their trust issues, and the men that fall for them

---

I’m only at about chapter 6 of this fic currently, but so far it’s one of my all time favorite Modern AUs. The characterization for Alina and Aleksander is incredibly well done, and the entire fic itself is so feminist and queer in such a refreshing way. Aleksander and Alina are bisexual as fuck, both with their own separate complex lives, and much of Alina’s own traumas and relationships are explored outside of Aleksander.

There’s some Zoyalina, with Nikolina friendship and endgame Zoyalai. There’s some mystery and some tension, but nothing too extreme, and a lot of the fic is merely an exploration in growth and overcoming one’s history and learning how to move on in healthy ways. I love it.

She Wears a Collar (With My Name) by Ceris_Malfoy (Complete)

She is immortal, and whatever lingering hints of humanity she may have once had have long been bleached from her heart.

I will grant you one wish, boy, if it is in my power to do so. What does a Shadow Smith most want?

"You," he answers.

Written for Darklina Week 2021 - Day 2: Role Reversal

---

This piece is just exquisite. This author’s writing style is one that I particularly enjoy. Their stuff is always so uniquely composed and crafted, and this one especially is a work of art. The way Darklina as a relationship is portrayed in particular is fascinating to me because it’s a role reversal but it’s still so complex. Aleksander’s character is nailed.

the bright sun was extinguish’d by athousandwinds (Complete)

Somewhere, deep in the dark forests of Ravka, a boy grows up on stories of Sankta Alina of the Wastes, the Sun-Scorched Saint.

---

This fic is just straight up magnificent. It’s so engaging and I love love love the way a role reversed Aleksander who joins the army is portrayed. He reminds me so much of Demon in the Woods Aleksander, as if he’s exactly what a grown version of that young boy would be. When I say I adore his characterization in this I’m not lying.

If I wanted any completed fic I’ve read to have a second chapter, it would be this one.

Winter in the Little Palace by redisxwing (Complete)

Written for Yuletide 2020.

Baghra and Alina's wildly different perspectives on the Darkling, and how things could have gone if nobody listened to Baghra.

Warning: Baghra is written as a harsh and arguably abusive parent, and this is darkfic about that relationship, with a side of shipping. Everything is terrible (except the parts that are pretty much okay).

Canon divergence pretty much as soon as Alina gets lessons in summoning.

This fic is likely not compatible with King of Scars (or any subsequent work).

---

As is said in the summary, this one makes Baghra a bit more extreme. If you’re a fan of Baghra, this fic probably isn’t for you. But since I’m not a fan of Baghra, I had no problems with it.

My biggest praise for this fic is in regards to the character interactions and the POVs. There’s a brilliant grasp of unique perspective and how to convey it, and that talent is carried over into the way character interactions are brought to life in the text. Also, there’s a scene where Alina gets kind of protective of the Darkling, which is one of my biggest weaknesses when it comes to Darklina.

Good Ideas by FelixRivers (Complete)

Alina Starkov had a very good idea. Aleksander Morozova would definitely agree. (or: Alina wants to go camping and Aleksander won't complain)

---

This fic is just straight up adorable and hilarious. They’re such a cute couple and Alina’s POV is great. It’s just pure fluff and humor 💕

I’m not a bad girl, but I do bad things with you by SanktaJenya - @sankta-arya (Complete)

Winter had been hard on Old Baghra and Ana Kuya was worried about her, so she decided that Alina should make the trip to her cottage on the other side of the woods to bring her some food and kvas. On her way there, Alina meets a stranger...

Darklina Red Riding Hood/Company of Wolves AU

Darklina Week, Day 4, Fairytales

---

This fic has a splendid grasp of tension and atmosphere. It’s very enchanting and dark and intriguing, and it nails those aspects with absolute precision. I love the style and the way the fairytale is incorporated into the narrative. It’s truly a masterpiece.

The Wretched by @aceofnowhere (Complete)

“We are strangers, but I want to help.” He growls at her, mocking and mistrustful. “I understand,” she said. “You think I am one of them. I certainly look like one of them. But I want to help you. Will you let me?” Prompt: fairytale. Alina saves a dragon.

---

Okay so I’ve mentioned this one before as one of my Top 5 fics of all time and I still stand by that. I can’t even describe why I love this fic so much except that the pacing is amazing and the prose is stunning and the story is beautiful. Aleksander is a dragon and Alina is a witch, and their relationship is just so...interesting and fascinating and lovely. I would literally kill for this fic. There’s such a softness to it as well. Such a tenderness. Idk, I just really love it.

Show Me Who You Are (I Want To Know) by Ceris_Malfoy (Incomplete - 12/?)

Alina takes her future in her own hands and makes her own decisions.

---

This is a great “what if Alina had stuck around after the reveal” rewrite. It doesn’t have Mal bashing and in fact still writes them as close friends, which is something I’m fond of in Darklina fics. Aleksander is allowed to be soft and Alina is allowed to be powerful, and I really enjoyed the take on their dynamics as a power couple wherein Alina is given a lot of control.

There’s something to be said for the way Aleksander is written in the scenes where he must be honest and earnest with Alina. I really enjoy the way they both come to equal ground, and I’m even more fond of the way Alina is allowed to grow darker without losing her light. She also engages a lot with quite a few other characters, developing tons of friendships and alliances on her own that help strengthen her as an individual character.

on this bridge between starshine and clay by @rhea-imagined (Complete)

"His breath narrows for a moment, his fist clenched tight before he forces himself to loosen it. She is his only opportunity for salvation, but vulnerability is not a cape he wears easily. “In those days, there was less prejudice against Shadow Summoners. But everyone fears the dark, in one way or another.” He does not look at her as he waits for the penny to drop, half-hoping it stays suspended in the air."

In which Alexander comes clean to Alina and tells her about his true identity in hopes that this will help convince her to take down the Fold.

A rewrite of the fountain scene in episode four, with a good!Darkling that is trying to make amends.

---

This is my all-time favorite good!Aleksander AU. He’s kept in character despite the major changes made to his motivations, and Alina is given a lot more agency in her own story. It’s the first fic in what might become a series, but it can stand alone beautifully.

I love how Aleksander and Alina’s relationship is allowed to grow tense without breaking, and how it’s a clear sign of change but not abandonment. I love how both characters are able to think for themselves and become self-aware and are given the chance to think critically. I love the character interaction so much because it’s honest and fresh and engaging. Everything from the smallest action to the most off-hand thought is in character and meaningful and incorporated with an amazing style of writing. It’s a very refreshing piece, and the writing only makes it that much better.

Bunnies of a Feather Stitch Together by Ill_Ratte (Complete)

"Just as Alina called to the light, gathering and twisting it into a ball in her hands, the door swung open.

Kirigan blacked out the door frame. His appearance enough would have surprised Alina, but there was something clutched in his arm, something dark and floppy. It almost looked like the stuffed toys that had been passed around to the younger Orphans." - Alina and The Darkling bond over a love of soft things

---

Soft stuffed animal shenanigans. Bits of trans!Aleksander, which I’m very fond of, as well as just a lot of fluff with a bit of something bittersweet and sad in a good way.

Half Lie by Ill_Ratte (Complete)

"Baghra always talked of the demon that had stolen her daughter." Or, Alina learns the hard way that the Darkling isn't the only one who deals in half-truths

---

This one is trans!Aleksander, and it handles it in a very interesting way. It’s quite sad, and deals a lot with Baghra & Aleksander’s relationship through Alina’s POV. I want to give a warning for transphobia, because it does center around that a lot as the premise, but it really is worth the read if that isn’t a trigger for you. This is one of my favorite trans!Aleksander fics, and the way it handles emotion and grief and pain is quite extraordinary.

The CEO and Helioseismologist by mrthology (Complete)

Aleksander Morozova doesn't get sick. He's the CEO of one of the most successful companies in the world, one that he had built from the ground up with blood, sweat, and tears. He exercised daily (usually), maintained a healthy diet, and kept himself fit.

He wasn’t sick.

Too bad no one believed him. And too bad Genya decided to call Ivan to take him home before also calling Alina to take care of him.

Maybe, just maybe, being sick wasn't so bad. Especially not when he has such a wonderful girlfriend.

---

Both of the fics in this series are great, but I love this one in particular because I’m an absolute sucker for hurt/comfort. Anyone who’s been on my blog for a while knows that it��s my all time favorite trope to read, and this fic fits the hurt/comfort trope to a T in the best of ways. It’s very tender and in character, and Aleksander and Alina are so soft with each other. It’s adorable and really makes you feel for Aleksander, and the caretaking is done perfectly.

All the different layers of dark (thousand little suns) by Anuna (Complete)

One month after the Winter Fete, Aleksander returns to the Little Palace, and Alina has been missing him.

Episode five canon divergence in which Alina had never left Os Alta.

---

This one is soft emotional hurt/comfort smut. They’re both so open and vulnerable with each other, and it’s so beautiful to read. I love the writing style and the emotion in this one. It makes my heart ache in the best way.

An Honourable Man by liviy695 (Complete)

A reimagining of the scene after the winter fete. Alina catches a glimpse of a caring Darkling after he returns from integrating the Conductor. Plus, no Baghra interference.

---

This one is what it says on the tin, in that Baghra doesn’t interfere and they’re allowed to talk after the Darkling interrogates the Conductor. But more than that, it’s a great imagining of how a scene where Aleksander reveals Marie’s death would have gone. There’s a sort of quiet to it that I appreciate, with grief and solemnity weighed against care and vulnerability.

I see the real you (even if you don’t, I do) by Anonymous (Incomplete - 8/?)

A series of questionable decisions lead Alina to meet the Black General a bit earlier. Butterfly effect ensues.

---

I’ve only read half so far (I hadn’t realized it had updated!! 👀👀) but I’m already in love with this fic. Alina’s dialogue and perspective is perfect, her relationship with Mal and the other cartographers is great, and I really enjoy how much personality she has. Aleksander is so smitten, but more than that, his characterization is soft but not weak. It feels almost as if he’s swept up by Alina, instead of the other way around, and I quite like that.

Of parenting by Anuna (Complete)

Alina finds out how her husband handled yet another parenting situation.

---

This is pure adorable Darklina parenting fluff and I live for it. Yet it doesn’t lack depth and in fact explored Alina and Aleksander’s relationship with parenting quite well.

i have a longing by LRCee - @ladylyannastark (Complete)

“So, Alina Starkov, risk-taker, how did you end up being editing’s newest wunderkind?”

Alina Starkov is rising in the publishing world. Singlehandedly responsible for editing (see: rewriting) the hottest book of the year, she lands a coveted spot at Morovoz Publishers. It's the position she's always wanted, at the biggest publishing house in the country. Life is perfect. That crush on her boss though, that's gotta go.

---

OKAY! I LOVE THIS ONE SO MUCH!! Let me tell you, as someone who is not too fond of Boss/Employee dynamics, I was very wary going into this fic. But boy did it deliver in a way that was perfect for me.

The relationship that develops between Aleksander and Alina is complex but healthy, and it never feels as if there’s too much of a power imbalance or anything that would make Alina feel forced or unhappy. The tension lies purely in how she fears others will perceive her, and not in how unhealthy her relationship with Aleksander is. For somebody who’s often attracted to unhealthy ships, I have to say that my favorite fics are usually ones that don’t have that type of dynamic between the characters. This fic delivers on that.

Also, Aleksander’s POV surrounding his struggle with his Russian heritage and his feelings for Alina is amazing, and has some of the best writing and characterization I’ve seen.

You receive: an evil demon; I receive: human souls by @aceofnowhere (Complete)

The next morning while she tried to tell herself it was a dream, that of course there wasn’t a fucking demon in her house, she found a note taped to her fridge.

“You might eat this shit,” it had written, “but I would like some fucking souls please.”

Darkling Week Prompt 7: free choice. Alina has a demon in her house.

This is absolute crack, and I have no idea what the fuck is wrong with me.

---

May I just say that this is the most fun I’ve ever had when reading a fic. It’s interesting with a bit of mystery, and Aleksander as a little shit of a demon is hilarious. Alina in this fic is great too. It’s such a unique take on her POV, especially when you reread it after knowing the ending. 10000/10, this fic is brilliant in every way and I love it.

I had been lost to you, Sunlight by BrytteMystere (Complete)

A Girl became a Woman, became a Sankta, became a Goddess.

Or: An Immortal Alina calls upon merzost to reunite with the Prince of Shadows she lost long ago. She may have lost herself in the process.

But then again, maybe time and endless wars did that instead.

---

You really just have to read this one to get it. It is utterly haunting and fascinating in the best of ways. The writing style is strange and novel and fits so well with the story being told. The composition of the fic as a whole is genius.

I Look Inside Myself (And See My Heart Is Black) by Ceris_Malfoy (Complete)

"When is a monster not a monster? Why, when you love it, of course."

Written for Darklina Week 2021 - Day 6: Favorite Quote • King & Queen • Monster

---

Once more, this author comes through with an absolutely breathtaking writing style and story. The imagery is elegant yet brutal, simultaneously horrifying and glorious. There’s a certain way these stories are written, like fairytales, where the beautiful becomes the macabre and becomes ever more stunning because of it. It’s very dark but in a good way - an almost bewitching way.

Afterlife by @aceofnowhere (Complete)

“You are asking me to leave?”

“Not asking, shadow,” she said. “Telling. Time to get unlost, loser.”

Day 3 Darklina Week prompt: Modern AU (I mean, barely)

Alina expels ghosts from purgatory.

---

@aceofnowhere once again bringing the best of the paranormal to the Grishaverse. Literally everything you write is amazing idk why I’m even pointing out individual fics when I could just rec your whole page. But anyways!! This is fun and interesting and Alina is a badass. Aleksander is, of course, compelling and dark and kind of a little shit, and it’s all incorporated seamlessly into an existential paranormal narrative.

Once Upon a Shooting Star by Ceris_Malfoy (Complete)

"But most of all, she was drawn to a vast darkness that reached out above all of them, a void so hungry for companionship that she knew she could fulfill."

---

Let. Alina. Be. Feral!! Anyways, I clearly have a type when it comes to storytelling, and it’s whatever the fuck this person has got going on. Feral!Star!Alina is literally the light of my life. Her interactions with not only other people but the world in general are so well done, but my favorite parts about this fic are the numerous ways her relationship with Aleksander is described and depicted.

I love the dark and light imagery, especially with how it’s portrayed as them filling in the gaps of each other’s lives and supporting each other instead of trying to block each other out. There’s such clear passion and joy and love and devotion between them. The central focus of this fic is on her and Aleksander’s relationship, the interplay between them and their powers and the way her light fills his loneliness, the passing of adoration and trust and reliance between them. It’s very beautiful and I love it.

A Blaze of Light by Keira_63 (Complete)

They discover the Sun Summoner in the burnt-out remains of the Shu laboratory in which she has spent the last seven years of her life.

Or, the Darkling finds himself with a Sun Summoner whose greatest wish is to burn Shu Han to the ground. He is happy to oblige her.

---

👀👀 Badass Alina and Badass Aleksander. The ultimate power couple, and Alina burning a path through Shu Han before they both burn a path through the world together. The darkness and rage in this one are handled very well, and the way that rage turns to coldness and then resolve is done so well. This fic is very cathartic and also very furious, and reading it is certainly a trip down emotion lane.

One more for the Road by Rist (Complete)

He returns to the war room shaken, and finds an Alina that cannot leave without at least having tried.

---

This one hurts so much but its soooo gooood!!! Very smutty but also very tender and very bittersweet. Sad and soft all at once. I just... love the way Alina and Aleksander are written so much, and Alina’s complicated feelings for him are explored in such detail and depth. This one is truly worth the read.

434 notes · View notes

iamwestiec · 3 years

Text

June 24: canon-era trans Lan Wangji 🏳️‍⚧️

featuring smol Twin Jades, supportive ally Lan Xichen, and Good Uncle Lan Qiren

Read on ao3

The first person he ever told was his brother.

They were young then, too small for Lan Zhan to have begun lessons but old enough for Lan Huan to be trusted to see them both safely to what would later become the rabbit meadow on a sunny afternoon Shufu had deemed, "too pretty for children your age to spend indoors like this old man."

(He was not, Lan Wangji would later realize, very old at all in those days, but by the time he understood this, he knew, too, how the weight of a responsibility borne too soon settled on one's shoulders.)

They passed a gate, through which Lan Zhan could see pathways and courtyards and buildings like the ones he knew but that he realized suddenly he had never visited. "Gege," he asked, for there surely wasn't anything his brother did not know, "what's through there?"

"That's the part of Cloud Recesses where the female disciples stay," Lan Huan answered. "When you are older and begin lessons, you will join our shijies and shimeis there."

The wrongness of that statement stopped Lan Zhan in his tracks. "No," he said, looking up at Lan Huan for a sign that he was joking—he always had a special smile when he teased Lan Zhan, so he would know—but finding only confusion. "Gege, why would I live with the girls?"

"Well, because you—" Lan Huan began, then he stopped. As though he were working out a riddle, he asked slowly, "A-Zhan, aren't you a girl?"

That wasn't a good joke OR a good riddle. "No," Lan Zhan said, starting to worry that his brother was more confused even than he was. "Gege is a boy?" he asked, to be certain Lan Huan would understand him.

"Yes," Lan Huan agreed, nodding. Good.

"And Shufu is a boy," Lan Zhan said, then frowned and corrected himself, "Man." Be careful with your words, he thought, especially when his brother was so confused! Lan Huan nodded again. "And A-Niang is a woman, and Lan-ayi and Su-ayi."

"Yes, that's right," Lan Huan agreed.

Lan Zhan nodded too, feeling more sure now that he knew his brother was not completely mixed up. "And I am a boy, like Gege and Shufu," he concluded.

"Oh!" Lan Huan said, as though it was a surprise. "That makes you my didi, then, not my meimei."

The word felt warm to his ears. "Mn," he agreed, glad Lan Huan was no longer confused. "So I will not live there?" he confirmed.

"No, didi, I suppose you won't," Lan Huan agreed with a smile. "'Do not make assumptions about others,'" he quoted, then bowed. "Gege apologizes, A-Zhan; I did not know."

Lan Zhan was glad he had explained before things got so mixed up that he was sent to live in the wrong place! Another thought occurred to him. "Does Shufu not know either?"

"He may not," Lan Huan said, "but if he doesn't, we can tell him together."

True to his word, Lan Huan was there when Lan Zhan explained things to Shufu, nodding and adding that, "Didi was very clear."

(Later, Lan Wangji would appreciate the equanimity with which his uncle accepted two very serious children telling him that the child he knew as his niece was actually his nephew.)

Lan Huan was also there when Lan Zhan told their mother, squeezing his hand as A-Niang swept them up into a hug and called them, "my two sweet boys."

He was there when Lan Zhan became Lan Wangji and received his first guan, and when they attended their first conference together, he nearly strained something making Significant Eyebrows the first time they were called, "the Twin Jades of Lan."

He introduced him to Nie Mingjue, who Lan Wangji was thrilled to discover was like him, with useful practices to share in addition to the gift of a sympathetic ear.

(It would be a few years before he realized exactly how Lan Xichen had come to find out that Nie Mingjue was like him, and Lan Wangji resolved never to tell his brother about his own boyhood crush on a young Nie-gongzi.)

Lan Xichen was there, quietly brimming with mirth, as a certain guest disciple teased and tormented him, and Lan Wangji had never felt so betrayed by his brother as when he brought the two Jiang disciples along to Caiyi because, "You looked as if you wanted Wei-gongzi to come."

The Cloud Recesses burned, and the Cloud Recesses were rebuilt. They fought a bloody war, and Lan Wangji’s heart was broken, and Lan Xichen saw him whipped for crimes he might well have faced death for, then tended to the wounds with his own hands.

He helped him save A-Yuan.

It was when Lan Yuan was old enough to begin his lessons that Lan Wangji discovered something else his brother had quietly done.

"The classes are no longer divided by gender?" Lan Wangji asked, watching the children curiously–and rambunctiously, in one case—greeting one another.

"Not for a few years," answered the instructor. "It was Lan-zongzhu's idea. With fewer teachers these days, it's practical, for one, plus it's easier for any of the little ones who might not be comfortable where the adults assume they should go."

Lan Wangji smiled. "Xiongzhang is wise."

#PrideMonthSnippets Masterpost!

#PrideMonthSnippets #twin jades #trans lan wangji #lan xichen #lan qiren #westie writes #trans pride

329 notes · View notes

anxious-logic · 2 years

Text

Royally Difficult Problems...

...deserve royally stupid solutions.

@tsshipmonth2020

Day 4: Fake Dating

Ship: platonic Dukeceit (Remus & Janus)

Word count: 1,380

Ao3 rating: T

Warnings: canon-typical intrusive thoughts (remus), some discussion of future trans male pregnancy, discussion of arranged marriages

Summary: The Crown Prince Remus comes up with a plan to get the King's advisors off his back. Sir Janus agrees to come along for the ride.

Remus was tired of dealing with everyone’s bullshit.

He knew he was the prince. He knew it was his job to marry and produce heirs and be part of a political match. But all of that was just… gross to him. He didn’t want to date; he had his friends, and he was doing his job by going to his tutoring and shadowing the King when he had to. Why did he have to cross off yet another thing from the checklist that nobody had bothered to tell him about? He was only eighteen, goddammit. Other crown royals had gotten engaged far later than him.

And not only was he supposed to be getting engaged and married, so was this Sir Janus. Apparently, Janus hadn’t found a love match, so plans were being made for him to be part of an advantageous political marriage. Remus was completely against the idea, of course - why treat a person like an object to be traded when there were so many other literal objects which were created for the sole purpose of being traded - but he wasn’t supposed to talk in this meeting, only watch and absorb the proceedings.

Or something.

“…political match my ass, I’m not going to- oh my god, get out of my way!”

Remus’s stewing was interrupted by another person quite literally running into him.

“Sorry, no need to jump down my throat,” Remus said, holding his hands up and swallowing back the addition of although you’re welcome to be digested by my stomach acid if you really want . “I think we were both a little distracted.”

The other person looked up at him and went white as a sheet. “Oh, fuck. I mean- I’m sorry, Your Highness, I was distracted and not watching where I was going, please forgive me.”

Remus stepped back from the other person, giving them space. “No, no, you’re fine.” He looked down the hallway, towards where the other person was coming from. “…ah. You just came from the meeting with Sir Janus about his engagement. Or lack thereof, I suppose.” He took in the other person’s general demeanor - annoyed, certainly, before they had run into each other, and now mostly just embarrassed. “You look younger than I’d expect, to be in that meeting. I’m afraid I haven’t met you. Would you like to walk with me? No consequences if not.” Most of the people in the meeting were ancient - former advisors, retired nobles, and the like: people who had the time to be worrying about the trivial facts of which foreign stranger Janus should marry.

The other person sighed. “ I’m Sir Janus, thank you very much. And if you’re only going to berate me because of my lack of engagement, then no, I would not like to walk with you. I have been scolded about that far too many times today for how early it is.”

Remus’s eyebrows rose. “ You’re Sir Janus?” The other person - Sir Janus, apparently - stiffened, and he rushed to continue. “No, no, I’m sorry, not in a bad way. You’re just more-” exciting, interesting, actually willing to stand up to the idiots in charge “-outspoken than I had been led to believe.” An idea popped into Remus’s head, and he narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. Pros and cons, would he do it? Would it work?

“Well, I’m sorry if that’s not the company you were looking for, Your Highness,” Janus said determinedly. “I’ll be on my way, then.”

“No!” Remus blurted, reaching out to grab Janus’s sleeve before snatching his hand back. Don’t touch, not without consent. “I actually have a proposal- nope, sorry, that’s a bad word choice,” he quickly corrected himself as Janus turned and began to walk away. “A suggestion. A half-baked plan that’s probably dumb as fuck that might work to both of our benefits.”

Janus stopped walking and turned around after a moment. “…I’m listening.”

Remus tilted his head in the direction he’d come - the way Janus had been going before they’d run into each other. “Let’s walk, and we can discuss.”

Janus nodded. “Okay.”

They got to the end of the hallway in silence, and Remus paused. “Where were you going?”

Janus shook his head quickly. “No, Your Highness. I had no plan, and you certainly have somewhere to be; we can go your way and I will find my way back to my rooms myself.”

Remus snorted. “Well, that somewhere was going to be the meeting you stormed out of. You seem much too interesting to just be a pawn to be married off, though, and I’m tired of hearing the same shit said to me, so I’d rather spend time with you.” He turned left, towards the gardens.

“You’re being told to get engaged as well?” Janus said curiously.

“Yes. It’s bullshit; I’m only eighteen, and other heirs haven’t even gotten engaged until twenty-seven. Even from here, some waited until they were almost twenty-five. But apparently the court and the King’s advisors are convinced that if I’m not engaged within the last two months, the whole country is going to shrivel up and die from the lack of a guaranteed future heir.”

Janus scoffed. “That’s almost worse than me. I mean, at least I’m attracted to women on some level, so it wouldn’t be as horrible to…” He waved a hand awkwardly. “Ah. Produce an heir, even though I believe I am primarily attracted to men.”

They turned another corner. That’s a good segue, Remus thought to himself as he sighed. “And there’s the issue. I’m not attracted to any gender - at least, that I’ve been able to tell. So the whole get engaged, get married, have babies, fall in love somewhere along the way thing is about as appealing to me as eating pig shit.” He winced at his crass words, hearing his tutor’s voice echo in his head. Be polite, you’re a royal, you need to control yourself or else-

Janus made a noise of understanding, apparently not caring about Remus’s vulgarity. “I see. Apologies, I assumed you were female-attracted, which would obviously make the… heir thing difficult.”

Remus nodded as they turned yet another corner, it would be so easy for someone to be murdered here and you’d never find the body . “Most assume that, yes. But the King’s advisors just don’t care; they say that if I won’t find a love match then they’ll just ship someone who we need to be allied with, who can also knock me up, ‘round to here, and then it’s the best of both worlds.”

Janus winced sympathetically. “That… I’m sorry.”

“Yeah.” Remus relaxed as he stepped into the outside air, tilting his head back as he absorbed the warm rays of sun. “That’s where my idea comes in.” He looked over to Janus, who appeared to also be enjoying the light after being in the depressingly dark castle.

“Go on,” Janus said.

Remus led Janus to the entrance of the garden maze (less of a maze than the castle itself, honestly). “Okay. So… you need to be engaged to someone. I need to be engaged to someone, preferably who has the ability to make an heir with me. You have that ability, from what I understand.”

Janus frowned at him, taking a step back. “I’m not going to get engaged to you here, Your Highness. I would like to know my partner before marriage.”

Remus shook his head quickly. “No, no, no! That’s not what I’m saying. I’m suggesting we get to know each other better - go on walks, share meals, be in the library together, stuff like that. The nosey old farts see us together, and rumors start spreading that we’re courting. We won’t actually be, and we can stop whenever you’d like, obviously. But… perhaps it could be a way to get people off of both of our backs, for at least a little while.”

A smile slowly spread across Janus’s face. “This is such a stupid plan.” He laughed slightly.

“Yeah, I know.” Remus grinned back. “Are you in?”

“ …Absolutely , Your Highness.”

Remus stopped walking and turned to face Janus, still beaming. “If we’re going to keep this up, you should call me Remus.”

Janus laughed again, louder this time. “Understood. I look forward to seeing you more, Remus.”

~~~

Please consider reblogging if you liked this!

#tsshipmonthNYOT #ts janus #ts remus #dukeceit #sanders sides fanfiction #janus sanders #remus sanders #platonic dukeceit #sanders sides fanfic #i can write sometimes

34 notes · View notes

astralpenguin · 3 years

Text

@transnaturalweek day 4: characters of colour

1.2k, ao3 link

“Are you changing your name?”

“Huh?”

Channing glanced back down at her notebook, which was sitting dead centre of an explosion of paper, textbooks, and writing utensils. “You don’t have to, obviously.”

“I just told you I’m a guy, and that’s your only takeaway?”

She put her pen down and looked up at her friend. “Of course not,” she said. “I just don’t want to get your name wrong. It’d be pretty shitty of me to deadname you immediately after you came out to me.”

Her friend smiled nervously. “I guess,” he said. “It wouldn’t really be deadnaming if you didn’t know an alternative.”

“Dude,” she said, shaking her head, “trust me on this. Hearing my deadname pisses me off so much even when it comes from people who literally don’t know any better, and because they don’t know any better there isn’t even anyone I can direct my anger at. No way do I wanna do that to you.”

His smile looked more genuine now. “Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me,” said Channing, leaning forwards. “Answer the question. What should I be calling you?”

He shrugged. “I do want to change my name, but I don’t know what to yet.”

Channing looked down at her study materials. Her history notes were still incomplete. She’d been halfway through a sentence when her friend had interrupted their study session to come out to her.

She closed her notebook.

“Let’s brainstorm.”

He blinked.

“We’re supposed to be studying though?” He tapped the end of his pen against his open notebook.

Channing shrugged. “We’ve been at it for a couple of hours already, and we’re both gonna ace this class anyway. We can afford to take a little bit of time out from studying to look over some name options for you.” She gently elbowed him in the side. “Besides,” she said, “you helped me with picking out my name. I wanna return the favor.”

He looked at her. Swallowed. His eyes looked suspiciously wet.

He closed his notebook and pushed it to the side.

“Thank you,” he said. “This means a lot.”

Channing dragged her laptop over and pressed a key to wake it up. “Again, don’t thank me for this. It’s bare minimum stuff.”

He put an arm around her middle and pulled her into a hug. “Maybe,” he said, “but I was kinda freaking out about this, and you’re making me feel loads better.”

She hugged him back. “Yeah, I remember the feeling. Even when you know it’s gonna be okay, it’s still scary.”

Keeping one arm around him, and with him keeping one arm around her, Channing opened a browser and brought up three different baby name websites.

Now her friend rolled his eyes. “Seriously?”

“This was my first step too,” she said. “I didn’t get you involved in my name selection process until I had a shortlist ready. Have you got that far?”

He admitted that he had not.

One of the baby name websites got disregarded in its entirety after five minutes of browsing told them that it considered ten different and increasingly baffling spellings of the name Sebastian to be ten distinctly different names.

“I haven’t told Mom yet,” he said as they scrolled through the J names on website number two. “You’re the only one who knows.”

Channing squeezed her arm around him and rested her head on his shoulder. “I’m honoured you came to me first.”

He laughed softly. “Yeah, well. You’re basically my favourite person, so.”

“I thought your mom was your favourite person.”

“Okay, you’re tied.”

“If anything I think that’s the greater honor here.” She grinned. “Like, yeah I’m the first one you’ve told about being a guy, but to consider me to be as important in your life as the great Linda Tran? I don’t think it’s possible for you to say anything nicer about someone than that.”

He sighed, but it sounded fond. “Why am I friends with you again?”

“The answer to that question is lost to time.”

He shook his head and scrolled down.

“I’m going to tell her soon, I think,” he said. “I’m not planning on doing it tomorrow or anything, but...”

He trailed off into silence and stopped scrolling.

Channing waited a few moments, but when it became clear that he wasn’t going to continue talking on his own, she sat up and pulled slightly away from him, taking her arm back. He turned to face her and she looked him in the eye.

“But?”

He picked up a stray pen and clicked it once, twice. “I want her to know the real me,” he said. “I know she won’t have a problem with it. She’s a good person, and she loves you, and she’s told me so many times that she’ll love me no matter what. I’m not worried about any of that. But this is big, you know?”

Channing nodded.

“And things will be different after I tell her. I do want to do it, and I want to do it soon. Just. Not yet.”

“That’s fine,” said Channing. “It’s up to you who you tell and when you tell them.”

“I know.” He looked at the computer screen and sighed. “She’ll probably expect me to have a name already picked out when I do it, though.”

That did sound a lot like Linda. “She just wants you to be the best at everything.”

“Yep,” he said, a bubble of laughter escaping in his voice. “Even at being trans.”

“If anyone can possibly find a way to be the best at being trans, I’m sure that it’ll be you.”

He hummed in thought and smiled at her. “Unless it’s you.”

“Unless it’s me,” she agreed. “But I think this is the one occasion in which I’m willing to concede the crown if it’ll keep Ms Linda Tran happy.”

His face and voice filled with mock disappointment. “But then I won’t have truly earned my victory, and what’s the point in that?”

Channing shook with laughter.

“Hey,” he said. “Pick a name for me.”

Channing stopped laughing.

“What?”

“Pick a name for me,” he said again. “If I don’t like it or don’t think it fits then I won’t keep it, but all these names are blurring together and I can’t tell which ones sound good anymore.”

“You don’t have to make a final decision today. We said we were brainstorming, that’s all this has to be.”

“I know. Pick a name for me.”

She took a deep breath. “Okay,” she said. “If you’re sure.”

She looked at the website.

She scrolled down.

“Matthew?”

“Matthew Tran,” he said aloud. He scrunched his face a little. “No, I’m not a Matthew.”

She scrolled some more. “Neil?”

He shook his head. “I’m definitely not a Neil.”

She scrolled down even further. “Sam?”

He actually laughed at that one. “Absolutely not. It’s way too close to a rhyme.”

“Yeah,” she said, “you’re right. I always think that the parents of kids with rhyming names must’ve hated them, so you really don’t want to do that to yourself. Self respect is important.” She scrolled back up so that she was looking at the upper middle section of the list. “What about Kevin?”

For a few seconds, neither of them said anything.

Then...

“Huh.”

“Huh?”

“Kevin Tran,” he said. “I think I like that.”

“You want me to call you Kevin?”

He nodded. “Just for now,” he said. “I might change my mind about it later, but for now I’m good with using that.”

“Okay then, Kevin,” said Channing. She closed the baby name websites and pushed her laptop away. “I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry. Let’s order food.”

Kevin practically beamed.

#transnaturalweek #spn #supernatural #kevin tran #channing ngo #fanfic #el creates

91 notes · View notes

possibilistfanfiction · 3 years

Note

Okay Elsa is annoying but … any Elsa thoughts on the future?

i also agree that elsa is annoying but u know shes a good mom honestly. also we all know casey is non binary in our hearts so. here's something i guess :) also on ao3

////

the morning gates stay open (i’d be there)

i’m born to be somebody, then somebody comes from me i’ll tell you about the rabbit moon and when to keep walking

— clairo, ‘reaper’

you see izzie — and no one else — waiting for you when you head out of the terminal at lax.

‘hey elsa,’ she says, giving you a hug when you open your arms, even though you’re a little confused. ‘casey’s in the bathroom,’ she rushes to explain, rolling her eyes fondly. ‘they had like six la croixs today, even though i said it was a bad idea, and —‘

you don’t really process much else because then casey is barreling into you, even though ever facetime call has ended abruptly with an adamant refusal to return any sentiment about missing each other. ‘hey mom,’ casey says into your shoulder, and when you back up you have to smile at the sun-kissed freckles and cutoff shorts fraying at the hem, even though it’s february and snowing in connecticut. casey looks happy, and links hands with izzie, who tries to take your suitcase for you before you glare at casey, who sighs and takes it instead.

you’ve visited before; you helped both of them move into their dorms, and then you’d flown out with doug for a weekend in october. casey and izzie came home for thanksgiving and winter break, but you have some miles saved up now and casey hadn’t sounded too annoyed at the idea of you visiting for a few days to get out of the cold. they drop your things off at the hotel you booked near campus, and then izzie levels casey with a look and then says, ‘i have to meet with a group for a midterm presentation, but i’ll see you for dinner.’

you give her a hug and she kisses casey easily, quickly, and says, ‘i love you,’ far too seriously for an afternoon apart. you don’t know what’s going on but you think back to what izzie had said earlier — not about casey drinking too many la croixs; listening to rules has never been a strong suit, after all — but, you think, if you were listening, maybe izzie didn’t say her, which might mean—

‘let’s go to the palisades,’ casey says, then starts to ramble nervously about how they’re closer to the west side than laguna or manhattan but not as crowded as the pier, and who wants to be around that many tourists anyway, and there’s a little cafe if you wanted some snacks. you listen patiently and agree to any plans, because it’s a beautiful day and you don’t, actually, want to drive that much in la traffic or be by so many tourists. eventually casey runs out of things to say and turns on the radio to some music you don’t know but honestly don’t think is half bad. the windows are down and the sun is bright and you’ve been to pflag meetings in new haven for over a year now; you think you’ll knock it out of the park if casey tells you anything.

you do stop by the cafe, which is cute, and pick up a few snacks. casey had packed a big beach blanket, one you’d given as a joint gift to izzie and casey for christmas, which makes you smile. casey’s hands are shaking, a little, though, and so you don’t mention that it was, in fact, a great present that apparently they use all the time, according to izzie, who always politely and enthusiastically returns your texts and calls with all sorts of updates.

you sit down in the warm sand near the water and you know casey; sometimes, you just have to wait it out.

‘so.’

‘hmmm.’

casey fiddles with the edge of the blanket and then with some of the fruit you got at the cafe, before staring straight ahead at the waves. ‘i’m, uh. whew. well.’

you don’t laugh, will your body not to. instead, you squeeze casey’s hand, just once.

‘i’m just your kid, okay?’

you sit with that for a moment, try to process what you think casey is saying, but you don’t want to get anything wrong or jump to conclusions. ‘today, at the airport, izzie said they, when referring to you.’

casey sits for a second, shoulders tense all the way up toward the sky, and then says, ‘oh.’

‘i don’t think she was even thinking about it.’ casey nods. ‘but, is that what you’re talking about?’

casey sighs. ‘yeah. i guess. is that — is that okay?’

‘of course it’s okay,’ you say, because it definitely is okay, and also it’s not the most shocking news you’ve heard. casey hasn’t wanted anything to do with femininity, really, for as long as you can remember; you’ve grown used to, and proud, so often, of having a queer child — and another bonus queer child, too, which is what you consider izzie now, no matter what.

casey sniffles and then leans into your shoulder. ‘i know you’re, like, bursting with questions.’

you laugh, just a little, and feel a small smile against your skin. ‘not if you don’t want to answer them.’

‘depends on the questions.’

‘do you have any term you like, or any concept or something? i’ve been doing a lot of reading, and i’ve met a lot of other parents in pflag who have children who are also gender non-conforming, and—‘

‘whoa, slow your roll,’ casey says, but seems to deflate a little in relief. ‘non binary is fine, i guess. i’m just — not a girl. i’m just casey.’

that makes you smile. ‘your name is still casey, then?’

it produces an eye roll but then a begrudging, ‘it’s a good name. i like my name,’ so you’ll take it as a win.

‘i have great taste.’

‘ugh.’

‘you use they/them pronouns?’

‘yeah,’ casey says. ‘but, like, it’s okay if you don’t always get them right or whatever.’

‘no, it’s not,’ you say gently. ‘i’ll try really hard. i’ll get them right. it’s important.’

that produces a fresh round of tears that they try to dismiss by saying the sun is really bright and they have a hangover, which you know is false because casey had been asleep by 9 last night after an all-nighter and cross country the day before. but you let them have it, eat a few grapes and then toss one their way.

it elicits a reluctant laugh but it works all the same. ‘izzie corrects people all the time so she’ll love you more than she already does.’

‘i’m so glad you brought my favorite child into my life.’

‘wow, thanks elsa,’ casey deadpans, but then digs their hand into the sand and smiles. ‘izzie’s been so awesome, with all of this. i really love her.’

‘i know you do,’ you say with a smile, pat their hand.

‘and i’ll tell sam and dad eventually, but i want to tell them in person because sam won’t care, i’m sure, but dad is… you know.’

‘he loves you,’ you assure them. ‘i won’t say anything, of course.’

they look at you suspiciously.

you hold your hands up. ‘i swear i won’t. i know i love to meddle but i would never out you.’

casey sighs and nods. ‘i believe you,’ they say. ‘but, for the record, meddling is your most toxic trait.’

‘yeah, yeah.’

‘i don’t really want to talk about this anymore,’ they say quietly after a few moments. ‘it stresses me out, sometimes.’

‘okay. any time you want or need, though.’

they nod. ‘love you, mom.’

‘love you, casey.’

they pop up off the blanket, then, which whips sand into your face and all the food, and then take off toward the waves, laughing. you let them have a little space for a moment, watching your brave child chase off into the surf, fearless as always.

you take izzie to lunch the next day; casey has class during that time and you like to spend time with izzie anyway. she sits straight and proper but you see how she’s relaxed a little too, here, maybe getting to have a childhood for the first time ever. her hair is long and perpetually wavy from her runs by the ocean, and her eyes are bright.

‘thank you,’ she says, ‘for being so good with casey yesterday. they told me that you were awesome.’

‘casey, my child, said those words about me?’

izzie laughs, delicately takes a bite of her quinoa bowl, then shrugs. ‘not those words exactly. but they meant it. and they were so happy this morning, like a weight was lifted or something. i told them they didn’t need to be that anxious to tell you or anything but it’s been a process, you know. i think it’s been hard for a while.’

‘they like to let things stew, don’t they?’

izzie huffs. ‘it’s the worst.’

‘welcome to my world.’

‘casey is… quite the person, that’s for sure.’

‘thank you, too, izzie. for loving them so completely.’

izzie blushes, looks down at her hands. ‘impossible not to, i think.’

you think back to all the times casey has driven you up the wall over the years, the tantrums and fights, and then reach out to squeeze izzie’s hand. ‘impossible not to,’ you agree.

casey and izzie come home for spring break, and casey is pacing around and so you order food, send izzie to go get it, who thanks you quietly with a little squeeze to your shoulder.

you sit down on the couch and make sure that sam and doug are actually paying attention and then casey sighs.

‘is this an intervention?’ sam asks when casey doesn’t say anything. ‘i don’t know who it would be for.’

casey sighs again. ‘it’s not an intervention.’

‘okay,’ sam says, ‘good.’

casey tries to still their hands on their thighs and then says, ‘i’m not a girl. or a boy. or anything else, really, i guess. uh, if that makes sense.’

doug looks genuinely baffled but sam just nods.

‘there are many animals that don’t fit into a gender or sex binary. most commonly, it’s referred to as sequential hermaphroditism.’

casey nods contemplatively and your heart warms a little.

‘one of my friends is trans,’ he says, then takes out his notebook. ‘what are your name and pronouns?’

you can tell casey is trying not to cry, but they just clear their throat. ‘uh, casey, and they/them pronouns.’

sam writes something in his notebook and then nods. ‘got it. sibling? is that okay?’

casey is really trying not to cry now. ‘that’s great, sam.’

‘cool,’ he says. ‘is that all?’

‘oh, uh, yeah,’ casey says, ‘thanks, sam.’

‘sure, i’m just glad this wasn’t an intervention,’ he says, then stands and leaves the room without another word.

casey is smiling but then they turn to really look at doug, who has a furrowed brow.

‘i’m sorry, case,’ he says, which might not be the best start, but you’re fully prepared to jump in anytime they need. ‘i don’t — i don’t understand fully.’

he doesn’t sound angry, and he gets up to sit by them on the couch, squeezes their shoulder once.

‘i love you, though, and i guess, uh. you’re my kid. i just want you to be safe and happy. i’ll try to learn, okay?’

casey swallows once, and then again, and then hugs doug tight. ‘please never quote this, and only remember it for your sake and not mine, but mom knows a lot. she can definitely help explain stuff.’

you beam and doug nods. casey rolls their eyes.

’not now, though,’ they say. ‘izzie’s back with the food.’ they flash their phone. ‘she’s just been waiting outside until we were done talking. elsa, i see what you did there.’

‘you’re welcome.’

‘that pizza better not have pineapple or else i’m taking back everything i just said.’

‘extra pineapple, believe it or not.’

casey stomps off, and then makes a little noise of satisfaction from the kitchen when they discover that, in fact, you had actually ordered pepperoni. you hear izzie laugh.

‘so… we don’t have a daughter anymore?’ doug asks, quietly. ‘that’s not what i should call …’

‘them,’ you supply. ‘casey is our child,’ you say firmly, ‘they’re just casey.’

he takes a deep breath and then nods. ‘okay.’

‘we can practice. i’ve been practicing.’

doug looks relieved. ‘okay, good.’ he waits a beat and then laughs, just once. ‘you know, of all the things casey has ever come to us with, even though i don’t understand the details, really, this might be the one that makes the most sense.’

you smile, lace your fingers together. ‘i thought the same thing.’

when casey and izzie come home for a few weeks in the summer before preseason training begins, casey has a few more tattoos and a buzzcut and the biggest smile you’ve ever seen. izzie is in a crop top and long, flowing skirt and they’re both as enamored with each other as always, sweet and considerate and happy. you make peace with it all, because casey is kinder by the day, it seems, even to you.

zahid comes over one night and smiles and says, ‘sick shoes,’ to casey and leaves it at that, even though earlier you had told them that you thought they looked like geriatric shoes — not even in jest, you were worried about arch support or something — and izzie had laughed and casey had spluttered, ‘they’re jordans.’

it’s not hard to realize, as the weeks pass, that casey is better than they’d ever been; you’d read that a lot of trans and non binary teams have a really hard time during puberty, especially, and casey had been going through so much on top of trying to process this part of their identity. you fight the urge to wish you had known more then, even though they’re healthy and thriving now, it seems.

they get everyone to help organize a slip n slide in the backyard made with tarps and soap and water, and it’s genuinely hilarious when they set up an obstacle course. for two division i athletes, casey and izzie do terribly, falling all over each other and getting bubbles everywhere. you’re pretty sure casey is wearing a binder instead of a swimsuit or sports bra, and when they finally finish their ridiculous game, they lie back on the grass with izzie.

they’re both breathing hard and laughing periodically, not really talking. you bring them popsicles and it’s been a while since you’ve seen casey look this young.

things settle.

you miss your kids, of course, but they seem very genuinely happy. but one night in the fall, you’re just sitting down with a glass of nice merlot, ready to watch the newest episode of the bachelor even though casey relentlessly tells you it’s ‘misogynist garbage’ — which you know, obviously, but it’s mindless — when your phone rings.

it’s casey, and casey never really calls you for a good reason, and your heart jumps in your chest. you put down your wine and pause the tv.

‘case?’

you hear them sniffle on the other end of the line.

‘what’s wrong?’

your mind runs through a million different scenarios, each worse than the last.

‘izzie’s hurt,’ they say, finally, and casey has been known to be a little dramatic so you don’t know how hurt, or what you need to do.

‘what happened, honey? what do you need from me?’

’the trainers are taking her to the hospital for an mri right now but they think she tore her achilles in practice today. i don’t — she was running next to me, just intervals, and then i heard a pop and then she was screaming and — can you come? i’m sorry. they think she might need surgery, i guess, and, i just. please? can you come?’

you put down your wine and walk to your laptop. ‘i’ll look up flights right now, case. i’ll be there as soon as i can, okay?’

they let out what you can tell is a very relieved breath. ‘okay.’

‘i found one that can get me there tomorrow morning. i’ll find a hotel and keep you updated.’

‘mom,’ they say, ‘thank you.’

‘i love you, and i love izzie.’ it’s firm, but you mean it like that: there is no question; you will be there. ‘i’ll see you both soon.’

izzie does need surgery, you find out by the next morning when you uber from the airport to the hospital. casey is hunched over in a hoodie, trying to stay awake with a cup of coffee, but izzie smiles sleepily and happily when you come into the room quietly.

‘i’m high,’ she says, giggling a little.

casey rolls their eyes, clearly exhausted, but gets up to hug you tight. izzie squeezes your hand back when you kiss her cheek.

‘you didn’t need to come,’ she says suddenly, a little furrow to her brow.

‘of course i did.’

her lower lip starts to wobble and casey rolls their eyes but huffs a little laugh anyway. it’s an uncharacteristically chilly, rainy day outside and it’s surprisingly easy to convince casey to go back to the dorm to shower and nap for a few hours before they come back in the afternoon. izzie mostly sleeps, but you take careful notes when the surgeon comes to speak to you, because izzie really is out of it and, although they promise to come back and explain things later, you don’t want them to be missing any information. plus, they always process information better when it’s written down anyway.

izzie eventually gets discharged and has to come back a few days later for surgery. you have savings, so you’re lucky enough that you can stay for a bit. izzie is groggy but gets to have an outpatient procedure, and you help casey get her situated back in her dorm afterward. she has a big padded boot on her foot and ankle but you picked up pain medication for her and so she mostly sleeps. casey settles in next to izzie on the small bed and kisses her forehead, then looks at you, eyes big. their hair has grown out so that it falls floppily over their brows; it makes them look young and you have to fight to not want to kiss their forehead or hold their hand.

‘just — thank you, mom.’

you leave after a few days because izzie is doing better, taking just tylenol and very coherently getting around fine on crutches and so therefore casey has relaxed as well, their easy smiles back and their posture relaxed, slouched like normal.

they both come to see you off at the airport, casey doting carefully and izzie swatting away any attempts. you kiss izzie’s forehead and then do the same to casey, even though they fake gag.

within a few weeks, izzie is walking again, tenderly at first but then without any pause. casey actually gives you studious updates about her recovery; from what you can tell, they go to every physical therapy session they can possibly make it to. you know izzie has gone to therapy for years, now, and all of the drama from when she and casey first started dating seems to have faded into the background. but injuries are difficult, you think — scary and painful, especially because of what running has been to izzie. but eventually she sends you a selfie of the two of them by the beach, clearly having just run, with fly away hair and casey’s cheeks flushed red, huge smiles squinting into the sun.

a year passes, full of holidays and casey complaining about finals and izzie sending you pictures of pies she tries to bake in the tiny dorm kitchen. they run; sometimes when you’re pretty sure they’re a little high, casey will facetime you just to say hello. you and doug help them move into a small duplex together at the beginning of junior year, a bright sunny kitchen and the breeze from the ocean floating through the windows.

casey takes you to get coffee when they visit for thanksgiving — so you know something’s up, because they would never voluntarily spend time alone with you unless they really needed to talk — and when you sit down they smile at you, gently and openly, a rare occasion, and say, ‘i’m gonna have top surgery in the spring.’

you’re not surprised, and you’ve done casey’s laundry enough times when they’ve visited that you know they’ve been wearing a binder most days; you know they love being an athlete, and izzie has sent you enough articles about non-binary athletes in women’s leagues that you know casey has a place in sport.

that this surgery is happening, though, is a little different. you feel scared, because casey is your child, but mostly you feel excited for them. relieved for them.

‘that’s so wonderful, casey,’ you say, and they blink just once and then a grin lights up their face.

they tell you about their surgeon, and the type of surgery they’re going to have, how izzie has gone with them but how, they admit, they would love if you facetimed in for their next pre-op appointment in a few months.

‘can you help me explain it to dad? sam and i already talked, to be honest, because he asked me. which is, like, inappropriate from anyone else, but he’s sam, so it was mostly just so he could research statistics and stuff.’

you laugh, squeeze their hand. ‘i’ll help, absolutely.’

you go out to la a few months after casey’s surgery with doug and sam; everything had gone well and casey had cried in joy and relief when they’d seen their chest afterward for the first time, which had set izzie off, which had set you off too. you’re pretty sure doug had even sniffled.

when you’d left, though, they still had bandages and bruising but now it’s almost the beginning of their senior year and when you go to the beach they take their shirt off and then shove sam into the sand with a laugh. sam grumbles but gets up to dust himself off, izzie rolling her eyes as she helps you set out the blanket.

casey races off into the surf, turning back and yelling at all of you to come join them. you always have; you do.

#fic #atypical #cassie x izzie #cazzie

58 notes · View notes

ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff · 3 years

Text

Begrudging Allies (Aaron Hotchner x Trans!Male!Reader)

Summary: Aaron and Y/N's marriage is suitable enough, given that Aaron secretly loves men and Y/N secretly is a man. When the one year anniversary of their amicable nuptials brings forth correspondence from their estranged families, Aaron takes the opportunity to potentially make something more out of their arrangement.

AN: This is one of my entries to the "Enemies 2 Lovers" challenge set by @imagining-in-the-margins on Tumblr!

Reader is trans male and uses he/him pronouns.

WC: 2.4k words

Content Warning: References to era appropriate homophobia/transphobia but nothing actually mentioned. Two dumb fucking gay men trying to flirt.

Photo Credit // Masterlist // AO3

Your name: submit What is this?

Aaron Hotchner and Y/N L/N were served breakfast together every day they were in the house together. They sat not at opposite ends, but the seat left adjacent to them. That way, they did not have to look at each other whilst they ate. Breakfast was the only meal with which they shared each other’s company. Why make it unbearable first thing in the morning? They read the morning paper - and any post - while eating. Only the scrape of their plates and muted chewing was to be heard before the chairs scraped across the floorboards and both men departed.

Today they both received a note from the L/N household back in their old country.

“I assume your letter reads the same as mine,” Y/N dropped his beside his plate before pushing it further away.

Hotchner raised his eye from the headline that had been mildly entertaining him, “It does.”

In cursive flicks, the usual complaints of their emigration had reached his eyes not moments prior. The closing of his family’s letter however broached a new request: a photograph of the happy couple on their first wedding anniversary, specifically a recreation. The ungrateful bunch, the only remaining wedding photographs of the wedding were in their hands.

“I don’t have the dress,” Y/N scoffed and looked aside. Even from this end of the table, Aaron could see that he was trying to mask his tears from the dawn. The wedding day was the culmination of their greatest shames.

At least Aaron had tried to make the best of it, but there was no relief for Y/N until they were in their separate chambers and free from all betrothment attire.

“Suppose we should arrange for a fitting. Though how we’re going to do that without arousing any suspicion here is beyond me.” “Perhaps we can go north, find a seamstress and a wigmaker there.”

Aaron did not patronise Y/N by pretending he understood his plight. He himself had never pictured himself with a wife; worse was that Y/N had never pictured himself to be a wife.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to remain a woman?” He had said after Y/N had confessed during their third arranged rendezvous.

With venom spitting from each syllable, Y/N’s reply was one that he remembered vividly: “I was never a woman to start with.”

They were not friends, they barely spoke, but the enemy of the enemy is a friend. This sentiment made Y/N a begrudging ally.

However it did not make the occasions they had to pretend to be a happily wedded couple any simpler. Y/N did look most becoming in white, but Aaron knew that there was no worse day for Y/N than that day in the church. Any reminder was like a stake through the heart.

“I’ll arrange for the fitting,” Aaron quietly volunteered.

Y/N was quick with a brusque reply, “I can organise my own affairs.”

“Of course, but perhaps it would lighten your load if I took on those responsibilities.” Aaron paused as Y/N pushed aside his breakfast plate, his eggs now making his stomach turn. He used his newspaper as a shield, “And as your husband, I give you permission to dress how you please.”

Y/N blinked then nodded. He did not ever say thank you. That was his problem, Y/N, too proud. Too nervous to admit that he had been graciously allowed to exist like this because of his marriage to Aaron. As if that was ever any part of their agreement, both of them had blackmail worthy material. Y/N just seemed to forget that, or at least he was not the type of individual to dangle Aaron’s secrets before him like a carrot on a stick. Why Y/N thought that Aaron was that type though, he had some idea.

“A member of the bar?” was the response Aaron got from Y/N, disgust thinly veiled, upon their first chaperoned walk through the L/N estate. It must have seemed contradictory later down the line, to be a protector of the laws that criminalised his very own existence. It was not as uncommon as Y/N believed however, and there were much worse laws to break between trials than being attracted to men.

A man of his word, Aaron prepared for a fitting in the comfort of their own home. A friend of theirs was a tailor; accommodations were no economic issue. Of course, this friend did not know either of their secrets, but other than that, he was a companion who would be greeted warmly into their home.

Y/N watched the tailor from the chaise whilst pretending to be interested in a book. His eye would raise itself to see each adjustment made to Aaron’s wedding suit, which he had surprisingly kept – folded in a box at the farthest corner of the house. Then Y/N would go back to the page and reread the top few lines. Every time, Aaron would pretend not to notice. But the jiggle of Y/N’s knee, the absence of progression through the book’s narrative, taught him that Y/N was anticipating this fitting with something more positive than last time.

“All done, thank you, Aaron!” “Y/N, your turn.”

His book snapped shut and Y/N stepped up to the podium. Aaron swapped places with him without acting out the role of an aloof reader. As expected his expression was well disguised as neutral, but Aaron’s practice in law gifted him with a pair of spectacles into the soul. Y/N’s glee of the tape measure taking in his proportions was masked so that only his eyes smiled. Once or twice, the corner of his mouth ticked up, only to iron its creases out when the tailor moved into his eyeline. When asked what colour he would consider, Y/N mulled deliciously his options before selecting a gentle blue. His fingers were cautious but as soon as they touched the royal fabric offered, they fanned out and welcomed it for his new suit.

From the moment they broke apart, his hands were restless. Ticking against his teacup or tapping against his legs were two of their new favourite hobbies. Even when the suit arrived, Y/N could not keep himself still. His beautiful face was scrunched up in the mirror as he attempted for a third time to make the right knot in his cravat. The photographer was waiting for them downstairs.

Aaron sighed and knocked one knuckle to the door, “Allow me.”

Y/N rolled his eyes, “I can do it myself.”

“I know. But this knot will look better.”

Their eyes locked in the mirror, before Y/N turned around and released his tie. His chin pointed parallel to the carpet. His neck was still so as not to drop the breath he was holding. Aaron flicked with the tip of the cravat as his hands slotted it through, his focus on the column of Y/N’s throat, because meeting his gaze now was an impossible feat. They were too close for that. He bent the stalks of his collar into place then stepped back as if to admire his handiwork. But that was not at all what he really regarded.

He cleared his throat, “There.”

As Aaron removed his hands, Y/N spun to face his reflection head on. “Adequate. You’ll have to teach me that one.”

Finally, they greeted their photographer, who had set up his camera in their garden. It was a lovely day, not to be wasted inside. At least that’s what the photographer said as he unceremoniously ushered them into place and posed them to his liking. There was no instruction for how to position their faces so Aaron kept his the same as their original wedding portrait.

His plan for relaxed facial features hit a bump in the road. As the photographer ducked beneath his sheet, Y/N snorted. His hand was quick to follow and it clapped over his mouth. The photographer emerged with concerned curiosity. A strand of his combover was standing on end.

“My apologies, there was a tickle in my throat.” He pressed his lips together and ducked his head, his feet scuffing one inch’s worth of dirt before he regained composure.

The photographer tried again. Aaron could see, in the corner of his eye, that Y/N’s corners of his mouth weighed down to prevent a break but it was unsuccessful.

“Do forgive me,” He said, his voice quivering, “I remembered a jest from last week. It isn’t even worth the laughter it brings.”

Despite his detractions, Y/N kept guffawing to himself as the photographer kept dodging about his cloth and camera. It spilled from between his pressed lips like an overflowing goblet. Aaron had not heard such delight before. He would describe it as infectious if the joy in Y/N’s notes was comparable to a plague. No, this was intoxicating, a mead he would heartily drink until he too was giddy on the stuff. Y/N, clutching Aaron’s arm to stay standing, almost stumbled as Aaron bent over with equally bashful laughter.

“It would possibly suit you better if you sat,” said the photographer through a faux smile. He then ushered over to one of the benches, the one amidst the tulips, before he wrangled with his camera after them.

Seated on the cool marble, Aaron kept a few inches between himself and Y/N. Their hands took that space but waited to hold hands. Y/N was still shaking but his smile was minute now, replaced by mild embarrassment.

“It wasn’t that funny,” He said. But there was a twitch in his voice, a breath that indicated otherwise.

“No, not at all,” whispered Aaron, his head tilted against the invisible line between them.

Y/N turned, his nose pushing their boundary and almost brushing against Aaron’s cheek when he too turned to face him.

“At long last, we agree.”

Y/N’s lips betrayed him again. A bubble of laughter popped between them, letting out the smallest of smiles. Yet it shone through with such luminosity that it almost outdid the flash of the bulb as their photograph was taken. There was delight at the absence of the melancholy pose that a long exposure wedding portrait promised. Oh, the wonders of new technology.

As was with his new suit, Y/N practically waited by the door for the photographs. His hands were beyond ravenous for them by the time they arrived. They snatched at the envelope and tore with as much care as he could muster, his voice catching in the roof of his mouth as he called for Aaron.

On the chaise together, their knees were brought in close to rest the papers upon. Their faces looked as though they were carved into the paper with charcoal, smudged by an artist’s thumb. That radiant smile among it all was the centre of the photograph. Aaron noted the distance between them was mirrored in their past selves as they sifted through their options.

Then Y/N held aloft the ones for their respective families, “Sit with me while I pen the reply.”

Aaron was not usually welcome in Y/N’s study. Yet, as he pulled up a walnut wood chair with red velvet seat beside the bureau, behind Y/N’s matching one, he felt like he was in place. With anticipation, he watched the most passive aggressive comments that had ever been put to paper. All bar one was spun from Y/N’s inspiration. Aaron had but one to add and it took some convincing for Y/N to put it in his family’s correspondence – he was writing since his writing was far neater. Even so, there were a few loops of the ‘l’s that slanted when Y/N was particularly amused by something that Aaron had commented on.

“There,” Y/N said as he closed the second of two envelopes with crimson wax. As he lifted the seal, he spoke quieter, “Just a thought, nothing more, but I almost wish I could see their faces. Only the first second though.” The seal was placed in his drawer and the letters were left in the centre of the desk while one remaining photograph was selected by Y/N, “I want to keep this. In the drawing room.”

Aaron’s eyebrows jumped up his forehead, “You do?”

Y/N nodded once with finality, his broad smile returning, “It’s the first time I was myself in a long time, the best I’ve ever looked! Besides, I am your husband and I say it will stand above the fireplace by the end of the week – once I find a suitable frame.”

He held it up, squinting to imagine what frame might work best with the décor. His chair itching to be closer, Hotch leant over and cupped his hand over Y/N’s so that he could see the photograph too. It stayed there, and perhaps it was his imagination, but Hotchner could have sworn that Y/N’s back slacked and swayed to the right an inch, almost resting against his shoulder beside Aaron’s.

Y/N’s quiet voice was back, “Thank you, Aaron.”

“You do not have to say thank you.”

“When are you going to stop telling me what to do?”

There was no accusation in it; it was asked as simply as one would ask for another napkin. But Aaron did not quite know how to answer.

“I don’t mean to come across as a drill sergeant,” He said softly.

“Aaron,” Y/N lowered their hands but kept them together beside his lap, “You don’t have to worry about me and what I’m going to do, just like I don’t have to worry about you.”

And what Aaron thought about being ignorant of an answer before, that became a lie. Aaron wanted to worry about Y/N, and he did worry. Not for himself or his identity being exposed, but because he did care for his husband. He didn’t want to worry or have Y/N be worried about control in their home. They should exist as equals, not in blackmail but in respect. Maybe one day, in love.

Aaron settled instead for: “My apologies. And I thank you too. It was the first time I was myself as well.”

Y/N blinked, then avoided his stare. It was a revelation therefore when he laced his fingers with Aaron’s for the briefest of squeeze and replied, “No thanks necessary. It was my pleasure.”

Then the bell tinkled for breakfast and the two men were up on their feet. Y/N was in the dining room first. He sat two away from the head of the table this time. With enough care to drag his chair loudly across the floor, Aaron mirrored that seating, dragging his cutlery and crockery into place. As they were served, Y/N swiped the newspaper before his husband could with a smirk hidden behind the pages. Hotchner poured his coffee and smiled into the brew. He was, for once, thoroughly glad that they had breakfast together.

----> ----> ----> ----> ---->

Tagging

Aaron Hotchner fics: @averyhotchner

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds imagine #r: male #r: trans male #wc: 2k+#my writing

36 notes · View notes

robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Note

My prompt is just more trans au. Various people reacting to baobei. Just i love trans au so much thank u for this gift.

Baobai Pt 1 - on tumblr, on ao3

“Oh, hey, you have a kid,” Wei Wuxian said, out of lack of any other conversational topics that weren’t ‘so are you here to kill us all?’. Kids were usually a good, neural topic, especially when they were that small. “Look at her, she’s so tiny! Her parents know you brought her out here?”

“She’s da-ge’s,” Lan Xichen said with a smile and a nod towards Nie Mingjue, who as tall and terrifying as always. He was glowering at the half-grown radish fields as if he was personally offended by them.

“Congratulations, Chifeng-zun,” Wei Wuxian said to him, hoping to stave off any impending violence. The baby was young enough that the mom was probably still in isolation recovering, and maybe hadn’t consented to said baby being brought to the Burial Mounds of all places - certainly Wei Wuxian wouldn’t have agreed to cart a small infant all the way from Qinghe, and he’d thought mothers preferred to remain near their children in the few months after birth - but Wei Wuxian was not really in a position to object.

Certainly not after the quick work Nie Mingjue’s saber made of all of his defensive arrays. That man was scary.

“Thank you,” Nie Mingjue said, and it was awkward for a moment until he added, “Pain in the ass to acquire.”

That made everything better: Wei Wuxian knew how to deal with snark. “Oh yeah? Carried her yourself, did you?”

“Ten fucking months,” Nie Mingjue said, and Wei Wuxian laughed and shot Lan Xichen a wink, figuring that his stupid joke about having given birth to A-Yuan had made the rounds. Funny, he wouldn’t have pegged Lan Wangji to be the sort of person to pass on jokes…

At that point, Nie MIngjue twisted his head around to look at Wen Ning and Wen Qing, who were hovering nearby, trying to hide A-Yuan behind their legs, and said, “She’s your cousin three times removed, if I have my family tree down right, so stop being queasy and let the kid come see her.”

“Fuck,” Wen Qing said, and abruptly sat down. “I’m sorry.”

Wei Wuxian had the distinct feeling he was missing something, especially when Wen Ning’s expression shifted from equally puzzled to outright horrified.

“It’s not exactly your fault, you’re not soldiers,” Nie Mingjue said, and glared at the radish field again. “But in all seriousness: let the kid see her.”

Wen Qing waved a vague hand at A-Yuan, who correctly interpreted it as permission and zoomed over to the baby as fast as his little legs could carry him. He was in that another-kid-how-cool phase that all kids had, and babies were a particular fascination.

“You’re cousins?” Wei Wuxian asked Nie Mingjue, feeling a bit weird about. Three times removed wasn’t close, but still…of all people...“With the Wen sect? You?”

Nie Huaisang made a strangled noise that from anyone else Wei Wuxian would have said sounded a bit like he was going to imminently stab someone.

Nie Mingjue just gave Wei Wuxian a look like he was an idiot.

“No,” he said very slowly. “I’m not.”

Wei Wuxian continued not to get it, right up until he glanced at Wen Ning who mouthed a name at him and – wait, but no, that’s impossible – but he’d have to be – wait, he was from Qinghe –

Wei Wuxian suddenly noticed that he had sat down on the ground as well at some point.

“Pain in the ass,” he said blankly. “Right.”

Nie Huaisang was glaring at him like he really was going to pull out his never-used saber to start chopping Wei Wuxian into bits, and honestly that might be a preferable option to the sheer awkwardness of having just put two and two together like that in front of so many people. Maybe he could use demonic cultivation to open the ground up beneath him? It’d never been done before, but then again, that was most things he did…

“Why are people so weird about babies?” Nie Mingjue complained, picking up the baby in one arm and a giggling and blissfully ignorant A-Yuan in the other, swinging them both around a bit. “They’re like – lumps of little people. We were all babies once. It’s not that weird.”

“You heard him,” Jin Guangyao said to Wei Wuxian with a smile that looked like it had daggers in it. “It’s not weird at all. Right?”

“Right!” Wei Wuxian said hastily.

Apparently scary people flocked together. Though, did that mean there something he was missing about Lan Xichen..?

Lan Xichen smiled at Jin Guangyao, who smiled back. That was really the only good thing about these discussion conferences, he thought – they were long and draining and he had to meet a lot of people he didn’t want to see (Sect Leader Yao ranked highly), but he got to spend a great deal of time with his sworn brothers, which he didn’t often manage. And, really, that made everything worth it.

“How are things going?” he asked in an undertone, scanning Jin Guangyao with his eyes. Madame Jin did not have the reputation for being a kind woman, especially not about her husband’s affairs, and he couldn’t help but worry.

“Manageable,” Jin Guangyao assured him, though it wasn’t really that comforting. “It helps that this conference isn’t at Jinlin Tower – less to arrange, less work to fall on my shoulders. It’s positively easy by comparison. When did you arrive? We’ve been here for a shichen already, setting up.”

“Just now. They’re still moving our things into our rooms –”

“Er-ge! San-ge!” Nie Huaisang’s voice rang out, sharp and clear and murderous; they both turned to look at him at once to try to determine if it was the sort of murderous that meant someone had bought out a painting he’d liked before he got there or if it someone had actually offended him. He had a fixed smile on his face, which boded no one any good. “I was just looking for you. I want to chat.”

“What happened?” Lan Xichen asked, looking around – they were more or less alone, and a quick hand-seal made it so that they wouldn’t be easily overheard. “Did someone do something to Baobei…?”

He couldn’t believe they still hadn’t named her, the poor thing.

(Jin Guangyao had briefly been lobbying for them to name her A-Shi, but then Nie Mingjue told him that if he wanted to have a girl named Nie Shi he ought to man up and sire her himself, and ever since then Jin Guangyao had been proposing different names entirely. Possibly he was concerned Nie Mingjue would take back the offer if he used up the name.)

“Surely not,” Jin Guangyao said. “In the middle of the Lotus Pier…?”

“Not Baobei,” Nie Huaisang said. “But your father just figured out who carried her, and he just – he put his hands – he said he had the right to check on account of da-ge having misled them –”

Lan Xichen observed, a little distantly, that he’d previously thought that the phrase ‘seeing red’ was an exaggeration, rather than a perfectly accurate description.

“Did da-ge rip him to pieces?” Jin Guangyao asked, sounding as if he was very much in favor of that result.

“He did not,” Nie Huaisang said. “You know how he is during these conferences; he’s far too reserved. Slapped his hands away but didn’t do anything else about it.”

“Surely that would put an end to it…?” Lan Xichen suggested, mildly hopeful, but the expression on Jin Guangyao and Nie Huaisang’s face did not fill him with much expectation.

“He’ll try something,” Jin Guangyao said flatly. His voice tremored briefly, full of rage even he couldn’t hide, and he gripped his hands together tightly. “He will try something.”

“Sect Leader Jiang will help us keep them separate for the conference,” Nie Huaisang said. “He still hasn’t figured out the details of Baobei’s parentage, I think he’s convinced himself that men just bear children – in some way that man is as dumb as a rock, same as when we were teenagers, I don’t know how anyone is that gullible – but he’s offended on da-ge’s behalf anyway. But when the conference is over for the evening…”

“It would be unfilial of me to plan my own father’s assassination,” Jin Guangyao said, and his eyes slide towards Lan Xichen, questioning. “But if you wanted to have a theoretical discussion regarding the security system at Jinlin Tower, and the weaknesses thereof…”

“Yes,” Lan Xichen said, putting aside all concerns regarding the morality of assassinations, and found that he didn’t regret the decision one bit. He’d barely tolerated that lecher when he had no choice, when he was Jin Guangyao’s father and a powerful sect leader. But putting his hands on da-ge – thinking of doing more – “Let’s have that...theoretical discussion.”

“I knew I could count on you two,” Nie Huaisang said with satisfaction. “So here’s what I was thinking –”

One of the worst days of Nie Huaisang’s life started quite normally – waking up when his brother lifted him bodily out of bed and slung him over his shoulder.

“Da-ge!” he yelped. “Da-ge, no – it’s too early –”

“If you stayed up late, that’s your own problem,” his brother said with the sort of purposeful cheerful sadism that only a person who actually enjoyed waking up with the sun to go train could employ. “I told you yesterday that we were going to be training this morning.”

“But da-ge –”

“You missed the last three days. You’re not missing today.”

But it’s so fucking early, Nie Huaisang thought despairingly, drooping into dead weight over his brother’s shoulder – not that that helped, of course. His brother was too damn strong.

“Are you sure you’re not taking out your feelings about getting fat on me?” he asked, poking at his brother’s somewhat-rounder-than-usual waist. “That peacetime bulge of yours hasn’t gotten any smaller, you know…”

In all honestly, Nie Huaisang was delighted by the small swell of his brother’s usually flat stomach. His brother wasn’t vain – his body was a tool shaped for purpose – and the idea that his brother had finally let go enough, whether by eating more or resting more, to actually gain some weight…

“Whatever you say, pork bun,” his brother said, and Nie Huaisang yelped and hit him because he was not a pork bun! No matter how pale or chubby he might become!

It was a hot day, which of course made going through the steps of training even more miserable than usual. His brother was patient as always, showing him the steps and then making him repeat them a few times before starting up his own morning training routine; after a while, they both got into a nice rhythm, swings and chops.

Training wasn’t that bad, especially when it meant he could spend more time with his always-busy brother. He still didn’t like it, and obviously he had a reputation to uphold, and yes, it was obnoxious to get up early...but it could be worst.

And then, just as Nie Huaisang was turning to tell his brother a joke he’d heard the day before, he saw his brother abruptly turn pale and fall over.

He even dropped Baxia.

“Da-ge!” Nie Huaisang screamed, a thousand ancient fears rearing their heads at once, and he rushed over at top speed. “Someone get a doctor! Quick!”

Not a qi deviation, not a qi deviation, don’t be a qi deviation, he prayed, dropping to his knees next to his brother, who was already waking up – eyes clear, not red, and looking more confused than anything else. He’s too young, I’m not ready, I can’t lose him, not him, not yet, please –

On Nie Huaisang’s instructions, some of the nearby retainers helped Nie Mingjue back inside, even though he was insisting that he was fine.

“You collapsed,” Nie Huaisang snapped at him. “In morning training. You are going to see a doctor, and that’s final.”

Nie Mingjue held up his hands in surrender, looking amused at Nie Huaisang’s uncharacteristic fierceness. His amusement faded into sympathy when he realized why Nie Huaisang was so tense – their father’s death had hit them both hard – and he pulled Nie Huaisang into his arms for a hug.

“It’s not that,” he said confidently. “Not yet. The doctor will tell you.”

The doctor’s face did something funny, though, when he listened to Nie Mingjue’s pulse. Not the oh-no-it-really-is-a-minor-qi-deviation sort of funny or even a nah-total-fluke-you’re-overreacting sort of funny, more of a what-the-fuck sort of funny.

“What is it?” Nie Huaisang demanded. He knew enough medicine – the entire Nie sect knew enough medicine – to understand most basic diagnoses, as well as what they might mean for future health. “What type of pulse?”

The doctor hesitated.

“Well?” Nie Mingjue said. “Spit it out.”

“…a joy pulse,” the doctor said. “About five months, I’d guess.”

For a moment Nie Huaisang didn’t understand. It wasn’t that he didn’t know what a joy pulse was – he did have female friends, some of whom were now mothers – nor that he didn’t know that his brother was capable of carrying, he’d known that forever.

It was just that his brother was an antisocial misanthrope. He didn’t have any lovers, as far as Nie Huaisang knew, which meant he shouldn’t have a joy pulse.

Besides, five months ago they were still at war! His brother took his duties far too seriously to waste time on a battlefield dallying with someone, anyone, and especially not if there was a major battle around that time. Five months ago there must have been one – which one was it?

Five months…the main force of the army had gone up from Xingtai to Shijiazhuang six months ago, and then there would have been – Yangquan.

Yangquan.

When his brother had been duped by false information into leading an attack on what should have been a mostly abandoned outpost, but which turned out to be in the middle of being reinforced by Wen Ruohan personally – when his brother had been captured – tortured – and even -

“Shit,” his brother said, presumably realizing at that exact moment that Nie Huaisang was capable of math and also dates and possibly even logic. “Doctor, you can go, thank you.”

Nie Huaisang didn’t even hear the doctor leave.

“Huaisang…didi…” His brother was trying to pull him into a hug, but Nie Huaisang didn’t want one, struggling unsuccessfully to get away. He didn’t want to be any closer to – to that – to the creature sitting his brother’s stomach, weighing him down; to what he’d thought was a sign of peace and good times and what was actually nothing more than yet another scar left by the war.

He’d actually been happy about it, and the thought twisted his stomach.

“Can you get rid of it?” he asked, voice strangled. “You can, right? It’s still early…”

“Five months is pretty close to quickening,” his brother said, wincing. “After quickening, the medicines don’t work as well. It might not be that easy.”

“Do you know how dangerous childbirth is?!” Nie Huaisang demanded. His mouth was moving on automatic; he wasn’t even thinking about what he was saying. He wasn’t thinking of anything, anything at all, because if he was thinking he’d have to think – he’d have to – his brother – “What if it kills you? You can’t let them kill you! Not after everything we did to avenge A-die!”

“I’m not going to die,” Nie Mingjue said, holding him tightly, his chin on Nie Huaisang’s head the way they always where when they hugged. “I’m a very good cultivator, Huaisang. My golden core will keep me healthy, even if I start bleeding…it won’t be like your mother. I promise.”

Nie Huaisang started shaking. “Da-ge,” he whimpered, pressing his face into his brother’s shoulder. “Da-ge, tell me…”

“Anything,” his brother promised, and he’d regret that promise in another moment, Nie Huaisang knew, the question would only cause him pain, but he needed to know. The second they were out of this situation his brother would clam up, pretend that nothing had happened and that it was all fine, so if he had questions – and he did – then he needed to answer them now.

“Was it – who was it? Was it him?”

His brother stilled.

“You said you’d tell me,” Nie Huaisang reminded him.

“…I don’t know,” his brother said. “I don’t – it could be. But it might be – someone else.”

There had been more than one, then. Nie Huaisang swallowed back bile, wanting to be sick. His father’s murderer had forced himself on his brother, and he’d let others do the same, and now they had to deal with the fallout.

“I want to kill them,” he whispered. “I want – I want them dead – all of them –”

“If it’s anything, I’ve made a pretty good head start on that already?” his brother offered, and of course his brother was trying to find some levity in a terrible situation. “We broke them, Huaisang. Even if some individuals remain, there’s no Wen sect left. If I do end up keeping it, the child won’t have a paternal family to lay a claim – they’ll be surnamed Nie. Another Nie, like you and me. You’ll be their uncle; you have to forgive them, it wasn’t their fault...you have to spoil them rotten.”

His brother’s thumb wiped away some of Nie Huaisang’s tears.

“You’ll be a good uncle, didi,” he murmured, pressing his lips to Nie Huaisang’s brow. “If the child is surnamed Nie, that’s all that matters.”

“People will know,” Nie Huaisang pointed out. “About you, about…I’m not the only one who can do math. We won’t…it can’t be kept quiet, can it? People will know. About you, about - what happened.”

“Let people know,” his brother, brave as ever, said with an indifferent shrug. “What do I care? In the end, it’s just another way to show that even when they threw everything they had against me, I still won.”

“What a charming child you have,” the young man from the mountain – Xiao Xingchen, he said his name was, and he was already famous despite having only been around for a few months – said, smiling down at her. “She’s beautiful.”

Nie Mingjue was not currently feeling especially kindly disposed towards human reproduction at the moment, being currently heavy with his second – the world needed more Nies, he wanted more Nies, children to keep Nie Huaisang company if that qi deviation he was promised ever actually turned up, and he had a very good list of cultivators with various pros and cons willing to help him introduce some more diversity into the Nie bloodline to try to minimize the chance of future qi deviations for his descendants, but at the same time he hated waddling around like a stuffed hippo with a bunch of people insisting that he not even think of physical exertion – but he nodded his thanks regardless.

At least for once someone wasn’t going to comment about the child’s parentage, he reflected wryly. There was only so much purposeful playing dumb a man could do, and the first year or so of his little baobei’s life – by the time they’d finally gotten around to trying to name her, the nickname had stick so firmly that they’d succumbed to reality and made her given name A-Bao, though of course, it being Qinghe, no one actually called her that – had really strained his tolerance in that specific regard.

It was the quickest way to avoid awkwardness, to pass along the information while avoiding conversations he didn’t want to have, but still…

Nobody brought up on a celestial mountain would know about Wen Ruohan, though. He was pretty sure of that.

“And I see you’re expecting another? Sometime soon..?”

“I am,” Nie Mingjue said. “Soon enough.”

Not soon enough. He wanted to go back to training – why did he keep getting high blood pressure no matter how much medicine he took?

“I see,” Xiao Xingchen said. “You’ll have to let me give you a gift of some sort. Do you have a favorite form of cloth?”

Nie MIngjue blinked at him. “Cloth?”

That was a strange gift. Did Xiao Xingchen think that his sect was so poor that he couldn’t cloth a child?

Xiao Xingchen – who was really quite young – blushed red, the color going all the way to his ears.

“I’m sorry for my presumption,” he said, then hesitated, before saying, very delicately, “Have you finished preparing the nest for the egg, then?”

#mdzs #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #wei wuxian #wen qing #wen ning #jin guangyao #lan xichen #xiao xingchen #my fic #my fics #baby dage #thevasthonk

341 notes · View notes

rodeo-boots · 3 years

Text

Pretty on his Knees

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Javier Escuella x Arthur Morgan

Tags: Trans!Arthur Morgan, Cunnilingus, Face-Fucking

(Please read Notes on AO3 for further warnings)

AO3

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

There were times when even Arthur Morgan himself needed a break. A chance to get out of camp, away from the chores and obligations waiting for him and most importantly from Dutch, who had a new plan to share every other day. Work grew tiring, now more than ever, with their sudden move from Blackwater and their escape over the mountains, the endless travels that had led them right to Horseshoe Overlook. Thankfully, that wasn't where Arthur had chosen to spend the night.

No, if he wanted to be left alone, he had to ride out, leave the confines of camp and venture into public or nature. Tonight, it was civilization he's chosen. But with pleasant company by his side, that wasn't even half bad.

Javier and he had been drinking for the best part of the evening, barely settling down before the first shots of whiskey had already been in their hands. Arthur didn't mind. If anything, he welcomed the distraction, welcomed the emptiness of his head that only increased the more alcohol ran down his throat. A few minutes, or hours, ago, Javier had started talking, and he had yet to stop, revealing more about himself than Arthur ever heard from him in general. It made him happy that the younger man seemed this comfortable around him, even if for the most part, it might be the whiskey that spoke out of him.

"I said– I told 'em no, I ain't ever seen this man in my life." The man erupted into giggles, Arthur not feeling able to pinpoint where exactly his story had started. Which didn't matter, because he laughed along with him anyways, the sound genuine and bright, more so than anything he's been able to give anyone in months.

After the disaster in Blackwater, all of them had been down in the gutter, Arthur feeling glad that Javier had agreed to go out with him at all. Unlike him, he had been there to witness that mess. But he evidently didn't think about asking him about it now.

He had stopped counting his shots by the time his head started to spin, his nose wrinkling as he stared down into the emptied glass before setting it back down on the table. "The whiskey's gone," he slurred, almost sadly, blinking his eyes as he tried to find Javier where he sat. Even if the man hadn't moved an inch, he kept forgetting about his position, flinching when his voice was much closer than he had expected.

"S'gone?" He asked, leaning into Arthur's personal space, much too close, though he didn't think about pushing him away. It was quite nice, actually. Besides, Javier had merely taken a look at the empty glass himself, his hand accidentally settling on Arthur's thigh. And weirdly enough, that was even nicer than just feeling his warmth by his side.

Arthur usually wasn't one to let himself get touched by people, none to allow anyone to march right into his comfort zone, least of all another man. He had enough issues with his body-image, enough insecurities to rightfully hide, to keep himself safe and spared of any sort of ridicule. But he knew Javier wasn't like that.

Their eyes met briefly as Javier seemed to realize where his hand had been all this time, the color of Arthur's cheeks darkening when he watched the other suck his lower lip between his teeth. His face was framed by dark bangs, hair sticking to sweaty temples in the heat of the establishment, his bowler hat still where it always sat. He didn't seem to plan on breaking eye-contact, his hand creeping higher up Arthur's thigh, warm through the fabric of his pants.

"I know somethin' better than whiskey," the man mumbled, his voice husky and low, still smooth like honey. He squeezed Arthur's thigh, boldly reaching for his crotch to palm what he might believe to be an erection. Now Arthur bit down on his lip, keeping his eyes on Javier as he palmed him; or the fabric he had stuffed down the front of his pants. His eyes grew heavy-lidded, releasing a small involuntary groan at the thought of Javier's hands where he actually wanted them. He could feel himself getting slick, lust burning inside him and causing his nub to throb.

Javier mindlessly kneaded what he thought to be Arthur's cock, moving way less discreetly than what might be appropriate in an environment like this. "How 'bout we take this outside?" Arthur asked, the drink keeping him from feeling anxious about what might be to come.

A chuckle was the initial response he got, Javier's hand retreating slowly as he straightened up where he sat. "Y'want me to suck you off so bad?" He smirked knowingly, confidently, Arthur's throat bobbing when he swallowed his nerves to get up, and lead the other man out of the building.

The darkened alley suited them just fine, Arthur immediately finding his back against the wall and lips attached to his throat, gasping at the feeling of eager hands smoothing down his sides. Javier opened his pants with practiced ease, got to his knees without missing a beat. He looks so pretty like this. Arthur knocked the hat off of the crown of his head to entangle his fingers with his dark hair, feeling like he had forgotten about something until it dawned on him at the same time that Javier seemed to hesitate.

Oh, right.

"Either 'm more drunk than I thought, or you got the prettiest cunt I ever seen," Javier mumbled, the tips of Arthur's ears starting to burn at the comment, his confidence from before wavering. He didn't get a chance to be embarrassed, or to apologize for hiding this very important detail until now, Javier leaning in without hesitation, doing just what he'd promised before as his lips sealed around Arthur's clit.

His muscles tensed at the first touch, sparks of electricity running through his veins when his most sensitive parts finally received the attention they needed. "Oh, fuck–" he let his head thud back against the wall, praying that no one would happen upon them, his fingers tightening in Javier's hair to tug at his scalp. The man didn't need any encouragement to continue, humming around his clit and sending vibrations right through his cunt, starting to suck while his fingers dipped in between Arthur's folds to gather and spread his slick.

Never before had he really allowed another man to do this to him, regretful at having missed out all his life, rolling his hips into Javier's mouth to satisfy his needs. He gasped when the man dipped his thumb into his entrance; wet, hot and tight, another groan surfacing from Javier's throat and causing Arthur to shiver even more.

The other pulled away for a second, Arthur's sound of protest a weak one – he had been so close. "Y'taste so good," was all Javier had meant to say to him, kissing his belly before burying his nose in his curls again, his eyelids fluttering shut while his tongue lazily traced his pulsing nub. "Can't get 'nuff of you," he murmured, his hands settling on Arthur's ass to pull him in, to encourage him to face-fuck him, the coil of pleasure tightening in Arthur's loins as he did just that.

Rolling and rocking his hips forward, he twisted his fingers within Javier's strands of hair, directing his motions just like he wanted, hearing the sounds of slick and wetness as the man sucked down on him. It drove him right off the wall, made him buck his hips even more, inching closer and closer to his release.

When he finally came, he could barely hold back a yelp, hips stuttering onto Javier's tongue, his clit tingling for a few blissful moments before Javier's ministrations were getting too much for him to handle. He pulled his head off of him, slick glistening in the hair of Javier's mustache and the small patch of hair beneath his lower lip, running his thumb over the man's lips as he caught his breath for a moment.

It all dawned on him much too quickly, where they were, who they were and what they had just done. Arthur pulled his pants up without another word, stuffing the socks back down his front before pulling up the zipper. He didn't miss the erection in Javier's own pants, feeling unable to repay him for the favor right now. "I– I'll see you at camp," he stuttered instead, leaving Javier on his knees as he turned, barely able to keep himself from running right back to his horse.

#javiarthur #arthur morgan #Javier Escuella #trans arthur morgan #trans!arthur #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption fanfiction #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #nsft #nsft fanfic #My writing #my trash #tw drinking

51 notes · View notes