You stood in front of the mirror, analyzing your every feature - it all felt too masculine. You hated it.

You had started your transitioning process, but dysphoria was inevitable.

Your thought’s got ripped from you as two hands wrapped around your waist, a hot breath on your neck, a face you recognized immediately in the mirror.

“You look beautiful, darlin’,” Graves spoke his truth, before burying his face in your neck, holding you close.