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endusviolence · 2 months

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Rowling isn't denying holocaust. She just pointed out that burning of transgender health books is a lie as that form of cosmetic surgery didn't exist. But of course you knew that already, didn't you?

I was thinking I'd probably see one of you! You're wrong :) Let's review the history a bit, shall we?

In this case, what we're talking about is the Institut für Sexualwissenschaft, or in English, The Institute of Sexology. This Institute was founded and headed by a gay Jewish sexologist named Magnus Hirschfeld. It was founded in July of 1919 as the first sexology research clinic in the world, and was run as a private, non-profit clinic. Hirschfeld and the researchers who worked there would give out consultations, medical advice, and even treatments for free to their poorer clientele, as well as give thousands of lectures and build a unique library full of books on gender, sexuality, and eroticism. Of course, being a gay man, Hirschfeld focused a lot on the gay community and proving that homosexuality was natural and could not be "cured".

Hirschfeld was unique in his time because he believed that nobody's gender was either one or the other. Rather, he contended that everyone is a mixture of both male and female, with every individual having their own unique mix of traits.

This leads into the Institute's work with transgender patients. Hirschfeld was actually the one to coin the term "transsexual" in 1923, though this word didn't become popular phrasing until 30 years later when Harry Benjamin began expanding his research (I'll just be shortening it to trans for this brief overview.) For the Institute, their revolutionary work with gay men eventually began to attract other members of the LGBTA+, including of course trans people.

Contrary to what Anon says, sex reassignment surgery was first tested in 1912. It'd already being used on humans throughout Europe during the 1920's by the time a doctor at the Institute named Ludwig Levy-Lenz began performing it on patients in 1931. Hirschfeld was at first opposed, but he came around quickly because it lowered the rate of suicide among their trans patients. Not only was reassignment performed at the Institute, but both facial feminization and facial masculization surgery were also done.

The Institute employed some of these patients, gave them therapy to help with other issues, even gave some of the mentioned surgeries for free to this who could not afford it! They spoke out on their behalf to the public, even getting Berlin police to help them create "transvestite passes" to allow people to dress however they wanted without the threat of being arrested. They worked together to fight the law, including trying to strike down Paragraph 175, which made it illegal to be homosexual. The picture below is from their holiday party, Magnus Hirschfeld being the gentleman on the right with the fabulous mustache. Many of the other people in this photo are transgender.

[Image ID: A black and white photo of a group of people. Some are smiling at the camera, others have serious expressions. Either way, they all seem to be happy. On the right side, an older gentleman in glasses- Magnus Hirschfeld- is sitting. He has short hair and a bushy mustache. He is resting one hand on the shoulder of the person in front of him. His other hand is being held by a person to his left. Another person to his right is holding his shoulder.]

There was always push back against the Institute, especially from conservatives who saw all of this as a bad thing. But conservatism can't stop progress without destroying it. They weren't willing to go that far for a good while. It all ended in March of 1933, when a new Chancellor was elected. The Nazis did not like homosexuals for several reasons. Chief among them, we break the boundaries of "normal" society. Shortly after the election, on May 6th, the book burnings began. The Jewish, gay, and obviously liberal Magnus Hirschfeld and his library of boundary-breaking literature was one of the very first targets. Thankfully, Hirschfeld was spared by virtue of being in Paris at the time (he would die in 1935, before the Nazis were able to invade France). His library wasn't so lucky.

This famous picture of the book burnings was taken after the Institute of Sexology had been raided. That's their books. Literature on so much about sexuality, eroticism, and gender, yes including their new work on trans people. This is the trans community's Alexandria. We're incredibly lucky that enough of it survived for Harry Benjamin and everyone who came after him was able to build on the Institute's work.

[Image ID: A black and white photo of the May Nazi book burning of the Institute of Sexology's library. A soldier, back facing the camera, is throwing a stack of books into the fire. In the background of the right side, a crowd is watching.]

As the Holocaust went on, the homosexuals of Germany became a targeted group. This did include transgender people, no matter what you say. To deny this reality is Holocaust denial. JK Rowling and everyone else who tries to pretend like this isn't reality is participating in that evil. You're agreeing with the Nazis.

But of course, you knew that already, didn't you?

Edit: Added image IDs. I apologize to those using screen readers for forgetting them. Please reblog this version instead.

#transgender #trans history #transsexual #transphobia #Magnus Hirschfeld #holocaust #holocaust denial #book burning #j.k. rowling #jk rowling #just in case you missed what i mean by all this: go fuck yourself anon :)#trans people have always existed #and we will always exist #if you really wanna pick a fight with me over well-documented history then you better bring in some sources to back your shit #queer history #queer #lgbt+#lgbta+#lgbt #lgbt history #edit: i finally got around to those damn image IDs. i am so very sorry for totally forgetting that's my bimbo moment of the month #also real quick i thought about adding an image of the actual building but the only one i can find has a Nazi parade in front of it #it was taken the day of the book burning raid and honestly if i were to include it then i'd add it to the first few paragraphs #and i think the story's better told when you uphold the hope Magnus Hirschfeld and all the researchers he worked with had #also keeps being brought up: yes Hirschfeld was a eugenicist. it was a popular belief set that was only discredited after WW2 #Hirschfeld died in 1935. he literally didn't live long enough to see science turn against those beliefs and practices #considering how he changed his mind on transitions i like to think he would've changed his mind on eugenics too if he'd lived

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reiderwriter · 10 months

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Margaritas and Mistakes

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Genre: Fluff, suggestive, smut coming in the next part (it's already written it just felt best to post them separately lmao).

Warnings: Suggestive language, dirty talk, some heavy petting and mention of sexual arousal. 18+ MINORS DNI

Summary: On a group night out, you get a little more drunk than you want to, and when Spencer shows up looking like the love of your life and not just your coworker, you realise that the margarita’s are having more of an effect than they should be.

A/N: Welcome back, it's my week off currently so I've been writing a copious amount of smut, so please enjoy this 3.6k word build up to more smut coming soon. Requests are still open, and you can find my masterlist here!

PART TWO!

You truly made all of your worst decisions when under the influence of alcohol. You blamed it on the fact that you really didn’t get the chance to go out all that often now that you were a full time member of the BAU Team. But the job was sometimes rewarding, and considering you’d been working on consultations all week and not a full time case, you were really looking forward to stretching your legs this friday night and getting some much needed relaxation in before you had to stare evil in the eye one more time.

“Girls’ Night Out! No male detectives, partners, Special Supervisory Agents, Unit Chiefs, OR Doctors!” Penelope cheered as you arrived at her apartment that night prior to your eventful outing.

“God I needed this,” Emily sighed, taking a sip of her drink. “I can’t remember the last time I got to kick back with a glass of chardonnay.”

“You sent me a picture of your drink two days ago, and it didn’t exactly look like water,” JJ laughed.

“Ah you see, my dear JJ, that wasn’t kicking back. That was therapy.”

“Honestly, though, it’s going to be good to get out of the house. I swear, the only places I’ve been for the last month have been my apartment and work,” you sigh, downing the last of the drink Penelope had handed you on the way in.

“What happened to that guy you were seeing, Y/N? Was he that bad?”

“Don’t even mention it. He took me back to his place and he didn’t even have a mattress on the floor, wanted us to do it on his couch,” you groan. “The couch that was also housing all of his laundry. And I’m not positive it was even clean laundry.”

You really had been having the absolute worst luck with men recently; other than your aforementioned tinder date, the only men who had shown any interest in you being serial killers who wanted to murder you and married cops looking to fool around with an FBI agent. Not the most auspicious of dating pools.

“Okay, operation get Y/N laid is a go. Ladies, your jobs tonight, should you choose to accept it, is to become the best wing-women this town has ever seen!” Penelope joked, and you found yourself giggling at just the idea, thankful that they were taking the time to try to cheer you up.

“Oh I’m all in. I’m warning you now, Y/N, my wing-woman success rate is pretty high. I’ve helped multiple couples achieve not only orgasm, but also marriage and kids.” Emily boasted.

“Emily, next time you might want to think about the wording of that one,” JJ laughed. “But I’m in too, you could use a little unwinding.”

“Not you too, JJ. You were supposed to be our voice of reason tonight.” You giggle into your cup, feeling the effect of your starter alcohol already.

“Nope. We’re having no responsible adults in our midst tonight. That’s why I’ve already arranged for our favourite Doctor to come and pick us up when the last of us falls tonight. He’s at a screening of some Indie Russian flick until 2am which is probably about perfect for our plans.”

This is the first you’ve heard of Penelope’s plans, but you’re not against it. With a solid escape route, you can let loose as much as you want tonight and know that all of your friends are fully able to have as much fun as possible tonight.

“Well, that’s the plan for us, sweetcheeks. Maybe you’ll get lucky.” Penelope winked at you with a nefariously innocent look on her face. And suddenly you weren’t quite as sure you trusted her…

–X–

After your first margarita at the bar you were still feeling fine. Sure, you were talking a lot louder than you usually did, and if you saw yourself in the mirror you’d probably start giggling instantly at the stupid, semi-permanent grin on your face, but you were feeling so relaxed that it was of no consequence.

You’d moved swiftly from Penelope’s apartment to the nearest downtown bar. It looked pretty seedy to you, and the lighting was so low you could barely make out the faces of your friends in their seats at the same table as you, but you were sure some of that was just the alcohol blurring your vision.

Your hearing though was still in top shape, which was why when Penelope asked her next question, you almost spit the drink out of your mouth, rushing to laugh.

“Okay, fuck, marry, kill, Hotch, Morgan, Reid.” She giggled as she posed the question to her teammates.

“Oh come on now, that’s not fair.” Emily laughed at the question posed.

“You’re right, I don’t know a woman alive that doesn’t want a ride on my chocolate thunder.” Penelope let out a faux dreamy sigh and took another swig of her drink.

“And marrying Reid just seems wrong. He’s like our brother at this point.” JJ points out, just shuddering at the thought.

“So we’re all in agreement? Fuck Morgan, marry Hotch and lovingly bury Reid six foot under?” Emily laughs and the other two nod.

“Nope,” is all you manage to get out before going for another large gulp of your drink.

“Well, well, well, Y/N what would you be doing differently?” Emily snaps her head around to look at you, eager for the juicy details.

“None of you are curious what the doctor is packing?” You reply, almost innocently, unaware of the many plots culminating in the minds of your friends at that very second.

“Not at all. “Nope.” “That’s pretty gross, actually.” They all seem to reply at once, but Penelope pushes another drink into your hand as soon as you’re done and gets ready to launch a counter-attack.

“Are you curious about it?” She leaves it at that, and if you weren’t so drunk, you’d have seen them all lean into you, desperate for your answer and ready to hang off of your every word. "Do you think about you and him… You know?"

“Every night,” you sigh dreamily. And you’re telling the truth. In the recent months, you’d found yourself waking up a little hot and bothered after some rather steamy midnight encounters with the Good Doctor. You’d become close to him over the few months you’d worked with him as a member of the team, but it wasn’t like you’d had a crush on him or anything. It was more like your body had an unconscious appreciation of his body. Or at least for certain parts of his body.

“His fingers are really nice, you know. And they’re big, too. Just makes a girl curious, s’all.” You down the proffered drink, hiding your remaining shame behind the glass.

“No, no, no babycakes, we’re gonna need more details than that if you’re gonna claim that you want to fuck Reid more than Morgan.” Penelope insisted, more forceful now than before.

“And what exactly does every night mean, Y/N? Something you should be telling us?” JJ wiggled her eyebrows at you and you lost it for a few seconds having a giggling fit.

“Okay, okay, it’s just… You’ve seen how he looks, right? And there was that one case three weeks back. He confronted that accomplice, and when he was about to bolt he slammed him against the wall and held him there like he’d barely broken a sweat. And you know how it is, we see Morgan kicking down doors on the daily, so I thought I wouldn’t be that interested in feats of physical strength, but my only thought in that moment was that I’d rather like him to slam…me…against that …wall.” You slowed down your speech at the end, looking up to see what looked to you like the grinning faces of three wolves staring down at their prey.

“And now I need another drink, anyone up for another round?” You squeaked out, changing the topic before any of the others could make their own comments.

–X–

Your second round of margarita’s was probably where things went irreversibly wrong for you. You’d returned to the table with two rounds of shots for all, having queued up four songs on the ancient jukebox you’d seen in the corner, hoping to entice the girls away from conversation, and it had worked.

After you’d bought the first two rounds, JJ had bought you another, and then Emily had splurged on another three, and then Garcia had rounded the hour out with one more shot, this time with sparklers attached.

So by the time you got back to your table and took a much needed swig of a drink that didn’t have to go down all at once, you were feeling well past drunk, to say the least.

But with the free-flowing alcohol came the lack of inhibition, so you really didn’t care. True to their word, the girls had been doing their best to convince you to dance with some of the guys in the bar since you’d gotten up, but truthfully none of them had enticed you.

But now, the night was running out, and the alcohol had you a bit hot and bothered, so when you felt a nice, hard body press up gently against yours, you decided to take advantage of the situation. Without looking back, you wrapped your hand around the one of his that had grazed your hips and held in there, moving your hips back and forth and beginning to grind back into your mystery man.

He was a little bit still at first, but eventually began making some slow movements along with you, and you could see the others cheering for you from a distance, Emily especially whooping from her perch at the bar.

You felt the voice lean down to your ear after a minute or so, and you tilted your neck up to hear the tall man a little better.

“What are you doing, Y/N?” He whispered against your skin, still letting him guide you through the music. Had you been sober, you’d have realised the voice was more than familiar, especially since he’d said your name, but you were not, and so you did not.

“Well, if you’re lucky, tonight I’ll be doing you?” you giggled back, looking up at the man quickly. But with the hazy lights of the bar and the copious amount of alcohol you’ve ingested, you don’t catch a good enough glimpse of the man to realise he’s your coworker.

“I think you’ve had enough to drink,” he says, when you start to pull him towards the bar, his grip on your hips tightening, accidentally pressing you back into what you expect to be his semi-erect cock, straining against your clothing.

“Oh, what, wanna take me home right now? That’s okay with me, mister.” You giggle, grinding back into him more intentionally this time. You grip his hand and try to force it up to touch more of you, utterly carefree about throwing yourself on what you presume to be a stranger in the middle of a bar.

Before you manage to, however, he lets out a frustrated groan and turns you around by your hips, forcing you to look him in the eye for a little bit longer, and all of your senses finally start working once again.

“Yes, Y/N, we’re going now. Penelope called me 15 minutes ago and said you were ready for that ride home and I can see now that she was right,” Reid leant down so you could hear him enough, but your brain was short circuiting.

You’d been grinding on your coworker. The one that had been the cause of so much of your sexual frustration for the past god knows how long. Spencer was right in front of you, and he hadn’t loosened his grip on you that much. Spencer was right in front of you and his erection was poking into you.

Really, your following actions shouldn’t be held against you in the slightest given the situation.

“Are you going to take me home, Doctor? Lay me down in bed and get me nice and comfortable?” you giggled up at the man, now enjoying the way your insinuations were making him blush.

“Y/N, you’re not being fair. We need to get the others and go,” he shot back, irritation dripping from his tone.

“Oh I’m sorry, am I being a bad girl?”

“You’re certainly being very difficult- what are you doing?” He jolted as you moved your hands to his fair, beginning to play with the curls at the nape of his neck.

“It’s softer than I imagined it would be,” you giggled again, pressing yourself forward to press a kiss against his neck.

“Okay, we need to get you home,” he panicked, grabbing both of your hands, pressing them against your sides, spinning you around and walking you back towards the other girls.

“Hello Spencer~” the girls all giggled as you approached. You struggled against his grip a little, but he kept you firmly in place, man-handling you slightly, and you practically melted into his touch.

“Who let Y/N drink this much? Don’t answer that, you’ve all been drinking the same amount, right?” He left out a frustrated breath, and ran one hand through his hair. You attempted to move again, but he’d practically pinned you to the table. Your hips were pressed into the edge of it, his hips pressed against you, forcing you up against the table in a way that should have been uncomfortable. His other hand was resting near your discarded glass, caging you in almost entirely.

“Cars out front, lets go,” he said, his jaw twitching with anger now.

“No need, lover boy, taxis are coming to pick myself, Penelope and JJ up as we speak,” Emily slurred the words, but got the idea across well enough. “You’ll just be needing to take this little kitten home and you’re done for the night.”

They were all giggling now, as you let out a childlike yay, your excitement evident on your face.

“We’ll wait and see you all off together at least, so outside now. She needs some fresh air or something,” he was practically talking to a wall at that point, but after a few repetitions, the women acquiesced and moved outside.

“Ooh, that’s my taxi, gotta go,” Garcia practically runs from you the moment you step outside, and you wave at her whilst wrapped around one of Reid’s arms, stumbling with each step.

“Use protection my sweet babies,” she shouts as she slams the car door just as her car drives away, leaving a spluttering Spencer unable to respond that he’s not touching you tonight while you’re in this state.

The taxis for Emily and JJ arrive swiftly as well, and the two soon depart with similar messages and soon you find yourself alone with Spencer once again.

“So, your place or mine,” you smirk, looking up at him and batting your eyelashes in the sweetest way you can manage.

“You’re drunk, Y/N, you don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Drunk I may be, Doctor, but I absolutely know what I’m saying. I’m saying I want you to shove me against a wall and finger fuck me until I don’t know how to walk anymore.”

“Goddamnit, Y/N, someone’s gonna hear you.”

“Oh you want me to be quiet? If you take my panties off and push them into my mouth maybe you could shut me up for a few minutes.”

“Get in the car, now.” You stick your tongue out at him, but hop into the passenger seat. He slams the door in your face and takes a few deep breaths before moving around and getting in himself.

–X–

Despite having the window open the entire car journey, hoping that the fresh air will do you some good, you’re still on top form when Spencer pulls up to your apartment.

“I didn’t even give you my address,” you pouted, as you tried, unsuccessfully, to remove your seatbelt.

“I memorised your file, now let’s get you into bed,” he unclasps it for you, and you use the close proximity to drop a kiss on his cheek.

“Only if you get into bed with me, hot stuff,” you wink at him and make for the door. “You know, you’re going to remember everything I said in the morning, right?” You asked him.

“Unfortunately, yes,” he muttered under his breath as he caught you just as you were about to teeter into the hedge on the shared green space. You wrapped your arms around his neck for the second time that night and stopped him in his tracks. Looking deep into his eyes, you took one of your hands and traced it gently over the side of his face and down his neck, your eyes following your fingers. He gulped involuntarily when you hit his adams apple, and you snapped your eyes back to him.

“Chances are that I’m probably not going to remember any of this, right?” You smiled up at him.

“Alcohol induced memory blackouts tend to occur in binge-drinkers whose alcohol levels have hit at least 0.16%, and further studies show that 50% of adults will experience some kind of alcohol-related memory loss in their lives, so yes, I’d say you’re probably not going to remember any of this.” He shot back, almost entirely still in anticipation of your next move.

“Good, then I might as well enjoy the moment while it lasts right.” As soon as the words were out of your mouth, your lips crashed into his, and after a beat, his reciprocated, moving over yours just as hungrily. He moved now, walking you back to your door, lips still locked in a ferocious battle for dominance, until he pinched your arm slightly. You gasped a little, ready to pull back and complain about the pain, but suddenly his tongue was in your mouth and you were back at it all over again. He tapped your legs, signalling that he wanted you to jump into his arms, and you did, wrapping your legs around his centre tightly as he finished making his way to your apartment door.

Pulling away for the briefest of moments, he pulled your keys from your back pocket, and made quick work of your door.

“Bedroom, now Spencer, please I need you,” you whimpered in his arms, pressing kisses against his jaw and neck. Unfortunately, he had other ideas.

“No. We are going to the bathroom, where you’re going to wash your makeup off, brush your teeth and change your clothes, and then you are going to get in bed and sleep.” He unceremoniously dropped you at the door of your bathroom, and you slid to the ground.

Pouting up at him, you felt the tears well in your eyes.

“No! I don’t want to go to bed yet,” you sounded like a petulant child and Spencer cursed a little under his breath when he looked down at you.

“Y/N listen to me very clearly, you’re not thinking straight. You’re way past the legal limit, you can’t consent to any of this and I’m not going to sleep with you and then have you forget it in twelve hours.” His tone was harsh, but you listened to him.

Picking yourself up off the floor, you followed his instructions and got yourself ready for bed.

“Okay, I’m all done now, Doctor,” you grumbled once you were done. You half expected him to have left you there, choosing to retreat whilst you cleaned yourself up, knowing that he’d already done what was asked of him by getting you home. But he was still there perched on your bed, and you made one last attempt to get what you wanted.

As he made his way to stand up, you used the last of your strength to push him back down again and climbed into his lap. This time though, you made no attempt to take anything further, just wrapping your arms and legs around him and burrowing into his shoulder. You had to admit, you were getting particularly sleepy now.

You let out a small yawn and burrowed further into his neck just as he opened his mouth.

“Y/N, please, what are you doing?” He sounded tired now, but didn’t attempt to push you off again.

“You said I was probably not going to remember this in the morning. That’s not going to fly with me. So you’re gonna sleep here with me and tell me everything I forgot in the morning.” You informed him.

He scoffed at you, but you could hear the smile in his voice when he replied.

“So you want me to just sleep here next to you? No pushing you against a wall? No panties in your mouth?”

“Nope. Like you said, ‘s getting pretty late and it’s been a long week, so it's probably for the best if we…” You tried to finish but your tongue was so heavy in your mouth that you just couldn’t use it anymore. You felt the warm rumble of his answering laugh of disbelief as he manoeuvred the two of you under the covers, taking the time to kick off his shoes and remove his coat and shirt.

“Sleep well, Y/N, because when you wake up I’m going to make you feel all of the torment you’ve put me through tonight tenfold.”

And he held you there against his chest as both of you fell deeper and deeper into your slumber.

PART TWO

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bluberryfields · 8 months

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"David is very easy to fall in love with." - Michael Sheen

Hi. How are you? Good, I hope. Okay, so can we talk about just how fucking beautiful David Tennant is? And by “we” I mean “I” and by “talk” I mean “babble incoherently into the void”? Great! I’ll attempt to impose a bit of organization on this just to satisfy my pathological need to inflict structure on words (thanks college/job/brain), but I can’t promise much. Also, there will be A LOT of pictures and gifs. (you’re welcome?)

And this isn’t just because I am deep in the bottomless well of Good Omens fandom and that Crowley is basically the most breathtaking creature that has ever existed. Well, not just because of that.

*cue Aziraphale's "good lord" from 1793*

ANYWAY, like a lot of people, I became a fan of (i.e., fell deeply and irrevocably in love with) DT during his run as the 10th Doctor. He was young and bright and full of just about everything – joy, sorrow, wit – making him incredibly watchable. His look was also so charming: big bouncy rooster comb of hair, absurdly cheeky smile, expressive-as-fuck eyes and eyebrows, and a tall, lanky form that seemed to be made of rubber and the kind of granulated sugar that could only be found in candy from the 90s that are now banned in all first- and second-world countries.

So yeah, I was super into him and his Doctor’s adventures. And I continued to watch him in other projects and still swoon (looking at you, slutty Hamlet)

even at characters where that was not the desired reaction (fuck you, Kilgrave, you delicious monster).

I would also always become a bit (a lot) weak in the knees at his voice regardless of which accent he took on, though always preferring him doing any Scottish brogue because of fucking course.

youtube

Roll that tongue, you sexy beast.

But what I want to get into today is just how incredible he looks in the year of 2023.

He’s 52 years old and I am somehow even more attracted to him. Maybe it’s because I am myself older, and my tastes have matured alongside? I certainly do enjoy gray hair way more than I did 10 years ago.

He’s aged incredibly well, probably a combination of good genes and good health, and he’s clearly not clinging to the Hollywood idea of “youth”.

(insert obligatory grumble about the double standards of men being praised for aging and women being demonized…the potentially problematic nature of the term “aging well” in general…acknowledge this with my enlightened brain but ignore this with my slutty heart…fuck the patriarchy, etc. etc.)

He’s still tall and skinny, even gangly at times, all long arms and legs that can move in impossible directions with unfathomable grace.

His face is leaner, that incredible bone structure creating sharper edges that draw the eye. Speaking of the face, he’s got these creases on his forehead and at the corners of his eyes and mouth that are evidence of time spent well: smiling, laughing, living. Makes you want to trace your fingertips along each one.

Oh god that smile? Good lord. It’s weapons grade charm that can also be quite intimidating. Sweet, humble, silly, scary…full spectrum of options here! His shark smile is the definition of “irresistible” in my Dictionary of Delicious Dudes.

I am both proud of and grossed out by my own word choice.

Continuing with that face...the hawkish nose, the dimples you want to drown in, the big eyes, those motherfucking eyebrows...

I could seriously write a whole essay about those eyebrows, but I already give my therapist enough to worry about.

Oh those eyes. “Piercing” is a term usually reserved for blue eyes, but I would argue it applies to DT’s bottomless chocolate pools in that they slice through my heart every damn time.

Honorable mention does go to those Crowley snake eyes because they could have been distracting and diminishing to his overall look, but they absolutely are not.

Such a pretty shade of yellow.

Random tangent to swoon about his hands. For whatever reason, I like checking out a man’s hands, and DT’s got a set that drives me wild. I can’t even really explain why, but I just really like the way he articulates with them. Crowley is a perfect example, what with the miracle snaps, caressing globes, and holding whisky glasses. Yum.

Delicious demon digits

Fresh tangent: How does this fucker look good clean shaven, with stubble, and a goddamn beard? How is that allowed?

He's got a face that makes me wanna take up sculpting

Further, how is his fucking neck so hot? Like, seriously, show me the math. I can’t stop staring at it. And when it’s cloaked in a turtleneck? Please, sir, may I have some more?

Fuuuuuuuck

With no segue whatsoever, I am absolutely obsessed with his hair, across all contexts. Big, bold, blood-red Crowley coifs (especially in Season 2)? Check.

Proper gentleman side part? Check.

Side shave with cartoonishy springy 14th Doctor shock? Check.

Lockdown locks with and without headband? Check!

It’s a goddamn buffet of delicious options.

Oh damn speaking of that 14th Doctor look? Good fucking Christ on a buttery Ritz cracker. The whole DT collection is on display: the hair, the eyes, the bone structure, the smile, the clothes, and even the glasses!

To quote Pam on Archer, “I swear to god, you could drown a toddler in my panties right now! I mean, not that you would.”

Now that you (I) mention the clothes, I never cease to marvel at how he can wear pretty much anything and look amazing. Stripes, patterns, wild colors, etc. He just always looks…not exactly comfortable, but sort of at ease like the clothes were created with him in mind. And this goes across the spectrum of Casual to Costume to Promotional (e.g., interviews and premieres).

They are almost illegally cute together

We all know by now how ridiculously tight those Crowley pants are and how it influenced his signature serpentine swagger (thank you, Costume department, you’re the real heroes). That said, he and those slinky hips still looks so incredibly natural in them like they came from his actual closet.

Stupid sexy snek

And he pulls off the look of more ridiculous stuff like full Shakespearean costumes or that sad gray-hoodie-black-shorts-and-Wellington-boots combo from the first season of Staged. He somehow gives off the air of “whatever, they’re just clothes, man” while also looking like a damn model.

Georgia is a very lucky woman

Final thoughts: I know DT dislikes talking about how people think he’s so attractive because I’m sure it feels a bit icky if you just want to live your life and do your job. But my guy also clearly understands that he’s not some ghoul who has succeeded on incredible personality and acting chops alone. So, that said, maybe he'll forgive me for posting such a long, rambling, ode to him?

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biteofcherry · 2 years

Note

but mafia!steve PLS 🫠🔥🫠🔥😌

Nesting

mafia!Steve Rogers x female reader

warnings: soft!dark Steve Rogers; mafia!Steve Rogers; possessive behavior; forced relationship; unplanned pregnancy;

~ * ~

With a smile on your face, you tucked the envelope inside your handbag. A precious picture you were so scared to see at first, but now it filled you with warmth and love.

Well, your morning sickness definitely didn’t fill you with any positive feelings, but the doctor said they should lessen in a few weeks, once you start your second trimester. It was all still so new, so fragile to consider its development. But you already hoped for the best.

You tossed into the bin the paper towels with which you wiped the ultrasound gel off your belly and put your jacket on. The nurse waiting outside smiled at you, gave you a stack of leaflets and a list of necessary appointments.

She directed you to the main reception, so you could book the next needed one.

Just as you were writing down in your calendar the date of the next ultrasound, the lady behind the desk remembered something and said to you:

“Oh, I almost forgot! Your husband is waiting for you outside.”

You stared at her, confused. She had to mistake you for someone else, clearly.

“Husband? I don’t-”

“Yes.” She beamed. “Handsome fellow, but it seems he’s just as scared of clinics as the rest of men.” She laughed.

“You sure he’s here for me?” You asked hesitantly, an idea of who might it be already forming in your head. Terrifying you.

“I’m sure. He gave all the information on you.” The woman’s face flashed solemn, her tone professional as she assured you of the thorough check. “I admit, even my own mom sometimes forgets what year I was born in.”

“Thank you.” You forced out a smile, but your heart was hammering in fear.

You have no idea how he found you. Even less how he got so much detailed information about you. But then again, you shouldn’t be surprised now that you knew who he was.

Steven Grant Rogers.

The ruthless head of the New York mafia who was more lethal than a viper already sinking its teeth in your ankle.

And who, to you, was just a very hot man you hooked up with a month and half ago.

You met Steve in a fancy club your friends booked a booth at - apparently it was a club so exclusive getting a booth in it was nearly impossible. Now you understood why.

You’re not sure why you caught his attention when there were so many beautiful women in the place that night. But three flutes of Prosecco in and you were bolder than usual. You agreed to accompany him in his VIP booth while your friends went crazy on the dancefloor.

He disarmed you with his focus on you, his eyes never straying to any other woman. A charming gentleman who made you melt with the few moments of movie-like fairytale feeling.

And when he whispered into your ear how he wants to eat you out until you pass out from pleasure, you almost spread your legs for him right there in the club.

Steve took you to his place - an elegant penthouse, in a building you later learned belonged to him. A one night stand turned into whole weekend of him fucking you senseless and spoiling you with fancy food delivered to his apartment.

He also made you do the most depraved things; no one else has ever made you come just from fingering your ass and talking dirty to you.

Like he promised each time he was buried in your cunt, Steve filled you to the brim.

You leaked his cum even as you got home late on a Sunday afternoon - Steve’s driver dropping you off in front of your modest flat.

The result of his filling woke you up a few weeks later, making you vomit your guts out each morning. With your period being unusually late there was only one explanation.

At first, after you confirmed the pregnancy with your doctor, you planned on telling Steve. One night or not, he had a right to know. But you didn’t have his number, nor did you remember the exact address where he lived. So you googled him.

And the articles made your head spin.

You thought it’s a misunderstanding. Just a coincidence, but then one of your friends complained to you about her boyfriend - a cop - being angry that you went to a mob-owned club.

Further prodding revealed that The Shield club belonged to Steven Rogers himself.

You could no longer fool yourself with coincidences and similar names. In an instant you made a decision to never put your foot anywhere near the club and to hide from everyone who exactly was your baby’s co-creator.

So as you kept it to yourself, building a lie (not so far from the truth) about it being a result of a reckless one night stand, you started to forget about the real father. Sometimes you even calmed yourself by repeating he wouldn’t want to have anything to do with it anyway.

But there couldn’t be anyone else claiming to come for you by posing as your husband. And Steve had the influence to learn all the details about you, if he wished.

You cast a glance at the main entrance. He was waiting for you there. To do who knows what to you.

If he didn’t want the baby being born and you refused to get rid of it… a man like him would simply get rid of you to erase the problem.

Perhaps you didn’t stand a chance against the power of someone like Steve Rogers, but you could try saving yourself and postponing the inevitable. For a little while, at least.

Pivoting on your heel, you went in the opposite direction. You didn’t know if there’s a back exit and you feared asking anyone, but the restroom you used earlier had a window facing the park and it was only on the high ground floor, so the risk was minimal.

You smiled at a woman who was washing her hands when you entered and pretended to lock yourself in the stall. When you heard the door closing after her, you left the stall and opened the window.

You dropped your bag first, then sat on the windowsill and swung your legs over it. Carefully, you lowered yourself down, hands clutching onto the edge. You took a deep breath and let go, landing softly on your feet without much trouble.

“Shouldn’t be doing that in your state, sweetheart.”

A smooth voice startled you.

A familiar voice.

You could still recall the praises he moaned in your ear when you trembled beneath him.

You turned around sharply, heart jumping to your throat as you faced him.

Steve stood a few steps away from you, his back resting against the side of the sleek, black car parked on the sidewalk. Dark aviators shaded his blue eyes, but you knew he was watching you like a hawk, ready to react if you fled.

You frowned, surprised to see him here, considering the receptionist told you your husband was waiting at the front.

You looked in the direction where he was supposed to be. Steve’s chuckle drew your attention back to him.

“Fawns like you are predictable.” He said with a smirk.

“Now, come on,” he called your name as he moved to the side, opening the car door, “get inside.”

You didn’t even stir. You simply couldn’t, frozen in place out of fear and shock. A thought of running passed through your mind, but you were never a fast runner and you predicted Steve would be more pissed if he had to chase you.

That he would catch you was undeniable. With his long legs and stamina that drove you into almost passing out a few times.

Steve sighed when you didn’t follow his order.

Unhurriedly, he walked over to where you trembled, plastered against the coarse, concrete siding of the building. He crouched down to pick your bag then slowly straightened.

Fuck, you didn’t remember him being this tall and broad.

Steve slid his aviators down to the tip of his nose, his icy blue eyes piercing through you. He traced the shell of your ear with a single digit, then trailed it along your jaw. He pinched your chin between his thumb and forefinger before saying firmly:

“Get in the fucking car, sweetheart.”

This time you obeyed. He gave you no other choice as he guided you with his hand pressed against the small of your back.

You slid onto the backseat, curling in the corner against the opposite door. Steve got in right behind you. The moment he closed the door on his side the locks clicked in, trapping you inside with him.

The partition between you and the driver was pulled up, though you assumed Steve’s men were loyal to him enough not to react to a woman screaming for help.

“How do you find this clinic?” Steve simply asked, dropping your handbag on the seat on his other side. Even if you wanted to, you wouldn’t be able to reach it without having to pass him.

“What?” You stared up at him, confused.

“I’ve heard it’s good, but I can get you into a top-shelf place.” While you were tense and strung up, Steve sat next to you completely relaxed. He took his sunglasses of, spread his legs wider.

You wrapped your arms protectively around your midsection, tears stung beneath your eyelids as you considered the potential meaning of his words.

“I’m keeping the baby!” you blurted out. Right that instant you knew you were ready to fight till your last breath to save your child.

Steve cocked his head to the side as he looked at you, a twisted warmth filling his eyes and making his smile even more charming.

“As you should.” He praised you.

He reached for you, wrapping an arm around your back and pulling you to his side. With his other hand he swatted your arms away from your belly and spread his fingers over the curve that would soon start swelling.

“You’ll give me more, too.” Steve hummed, his eyes glued to where his hand laid.

You were speechless. Initial fear of being forced to lose the baby turned into a completely new terror.

Steve’s words didn’t cut your life short, but they built a long, gilded-cage waiting for you.

“It’s about time I started nesting.” Steve chuckled, his hand moving to cup your chin and tilt your head back. “I don’t mind doing it with a sweet, little bird like you.”

He pressed his lips against yours gently, almost sweetly, as if he was a tender lover doting on his beloved. Then his tongue teased the seam of your mouth. When you didn’t open right away he bit your bottom lip, making you gasp and forcing his tongue inside.

You told yourself it was fear and adrenaline, but your nipples hardened and your pulse quickened.

“First things first-” Steve pulled away.

He took one of your hands and brought it to his lips, peppering kisses on each of your knuckles.

“We have to get you an engagement ring and order wedding bands as well.”

“Steve, I don’t understand-” your heart pounded so fast it rushed blood to your head and made you dizzy.

He intertwined your fingers and brought your clasped hands to his chest, just as he slipped his other hand to grip the back of your neck firmly.

“You’re mine.” He announced without remorse. “You became mine the moment I took you home. Now you’re going to be mine in every other way.”

#steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #mafia!steve rogers #soft!dark Steve Rogers #mafia au #mob!steve rogers #my writing #nesting

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missmeinyourbones · 2 years

Note

Okay but I need to know what happens when you and suna tell the twins

read part one here / part three

The urgent knocking on your door should be alarming. Should be—but knowing Atsumu and Osamu are guilty of the hammering on the other side of the wood, it’s not all that uncommon of an occurrence in your household.

The pounding refuses to cease as your hand finds the doorknob. The wood swings open and you're instantly greeted by two frowning men barging through your threshold.

“Is the baby okay?” a far too familiar voice spills.

You mentally roll your eyes at his dramatics, “Yes, Atsumu, I literally said that in the text.”

He gawks at you as if you have two heads. “Oh, I stopped reading after the first sentence.”

When Atsumu saw your name pop up on his phone, he expected a handful of things. A question about his upcoming game schedule, a cringe-worthy throwback picture from your embarrassing high school days, an invitation to dinner with you and your husband.

What he didn’t expect the text to read, was the alarmingly ominous message that glared back at him.

Had a doctor’s appointment yesterday, come over when you can. Everything’s fine, just some new info.

Luckily for Atsumu, he was already at Onigiri Miya when he opened the group chat including the four of you. Though not even thoroughly reading the text, he immediately had his brother close down shop and drive the two of them to your and Suna’s home.

Osamu trails behind him, warily scanning the environment before him; his eyes go from where you still hold the door open to the living room where Suna wordlessly sits.

A bit breathless, he proceeds with caution.

“Are you guys alright? I didn’t even get to open the text before ‘Tsumu had me by the collar and behind the wheel.”

“M’nervous, almost threw up three times on the way here,” Atsumu’s voice stumbles over his brother’s question as he catches his breath with a hand on his heaving chest.

Suna waves their dramatics off with a dismissive hand and beckons them to the couch across from him.

“Just sit,” your husband practically yawns, “it’s really not that big of a deal.”

The twins share an uneasy look before slowly making their way over to the idle couch. You finally get to close the door, joining the chaos in the living room. Suna grabs your wrist as you round the chair he occupies, pulling you towards him and securing you in between his legs.

The situation is far too casual for the anxiously rowdy brothers. Atsumu can’t stand the normalcy of it all, can’t help himself from letting the unknown eat him alive.

“Is somethin’ wrong with it!?” he blurts out in a characteristically brash tone.

You bite back a growl at him referring to your unborn child—children—as ‘it’ but you decide to let it slide given the circumstances.

You reassure him with a shake of your head, “Perfectly healthy.”

“You find out the gender?” Osamu shifts in his seat, getting himself excited at the thought of a future niece or nephew.

“Nope,” Suna pops out from behind your frame.

“Are you gonna officially ask us to be uncles?”

Their order of priorities has you chewing your cheek in disbelief.

“We’ve talked about this,” you remind them with a teasingly stern look. “The ‘uncle’ title is a privilege you need to earn, and it can be taken from you at any time. Plus, they’re not even born yet.”

Suna picks up on your particular use of pronouns as he lightly squeezes your thigh. You and your husband share a sneaky glance.

You wait for your choice of words to hit the two brothers, for them to finally begin to put the pieces together with their shared telepathy. Too busy bickering with one another (and simultaneously your husband), the subtle hint goes completely over their heads.

Atsumu nearly bursts at the seams. “So fuckin’ say it already! Before I die of high blood pressure,” he sobs in theatrics.

Wordlessly, you find yourself turning towards Suna, giving him a nod of approval to do the honors.

“Let’s just say,” your husband slumps both of you further back into the armchair, attempting to be blasé with the suspenseful reveal, “the two of you aren’t gonna be the only twins around here, anymore.”

In all of the years you’ve been friends, moments with the twins and Suna were rarely silent, given the contrasting personalities juggling throughout the group—but right now, a dropping pin could be heard in the echoes of your still living room.

Unsurprisingly, Atsumu breaks the silence first.

“Bullshit,” he poetically deadpans.

Osamu doesn't miss a beat when backing up his brother, “Yer bullshitting.”

Searching Suna’s expression for any sign of ill intent, they continue to bounce off of one another’s brewing confusion.

“There’s no way—”

“Don’t tell me yer jokin’, because that’s a really cruel joke to make.”

Like clockwork, they turn to you simultaneously, as if your official confirmation holds more weight than Suna’s word.

“Really?” Osamu’s eyes practically melt with contagious hope.

With a simple nod of your head, the two of them jump up from their seats in excitement. They embrace one another tightly, as if they played any role in the biological creation of your and Suna’s expected children.

“Oh my god! No fuckin’ way!”

Squirming out of his brother’s grasp, Atsumu practically skips his way over to where you and Suna sit. A smile as bright as the sun decorates his face. He gestures to your bump with open palms.

With a tenderness foreign to his usual energy, he carefully breathes. “Permission to touch?”

You slowly stand from Suna’s lap with a knowing grin and nod your head.

Atsumu then turns to where Rintaro now sits alone behind you. “Permission to touch yer wife?” he taunts.

Suna pretends to mull it over before merely shrugging, “I’ll allow it.”

Atsumu’s clammy hands immediately palm your stomach through your sweater. He kneels down to be at eye level with the bump before bringing his face closer to it.

“Hiiiii twins!” he giggles with delight—a specific kind of joy that could only be tailored to someone who understands how special being a twin truly is.

Osamu rolls his eyes before walking over and pulling Suna upwards and out of his chair. He pats his best friend on the back a few times, a wordless congratulations on the blessing that, he too, knows to be twins.

The two men shake their heads at where Atsumu coos into your stomach.

“We wanted you guys to be the first ones to know,” you whisper in contentment.

Suna gently pushes Atsumu’s head from in front of you, watching the blonde topple out of his squat at the sudden shove.

“Figured you’d be the most excited, for obvious reasons,” he elaborates behind a poorly hidden smirk.

“Maybe that’s why the mornin’ sickness has been so bad,” Osamu pipes up, wrapping himself around you in a one armed hug. “Our ma said she had it terrible with us.”

You can’t help but smile at the thought of an extremely pregnant Mama Miya, expecting (what she’d never know to become) two of the biggest menaces you’ll ever have the privilege of knowing.

“I was scared of one Sunarin spawn, now there’s gonna be two?” the blonde teases from the floor with a smile.

The brothers continue to thrive off of one another’s snowballing excitement.

“This is insane.”

“Right? I mean, what are the odds?”

Suna laughs under his breath. One out of thirty-three, he thinks to himself, remembering how the two of you had googled the statistics the night following your appointment.

“Tell me about it,” he quips, arms returning around your waist as he feels the sudden urge to have you closer to him, “thought I had it bad enough with you two.”

“Oh, quit bein’ a scrub already!” Osamu scolds him, though all eyes in the room are void of any real intent as they continue to awe at your bump in fascination.

“You’re gonna be a father of two now, better clean up yer act,” the words fall from his lips without any actual intimidation.

The moment is sweeter than you could’ve imagined, and perfectly fitting for the unique group that is your little hand-picked family. You think you feel tears brimming beneath your lashes—that is, until the moment is tarnished when Atsumu opens his big mouth again.

“So if they’re boys, will you name ‘em after us, too?” he innocently perks up.

Your husband’s response doesn’t miss a beat.

“Absolutely fucking not.”

#suna rintaro #suna x reader #suna rintaro x reader #suna x you #suna rintaro x you #suna fic #suna rintaro fic #suna fluff #suna rintaro fluff #dad!suna #suna haikyuu #suna rintaro haikyuu

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dfortrafalgar · 1 month

Text

I'm Losing You... (But We're Filling the Cracks)

Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem. But sometimes, you just need a little bit of love... and a little bit of science.

Warnings: read chapter 1 for warnings.

Chapter 26

[Prev] [Next]

Your fingers gently knocked against the firm wood of your boss’s closed office door, your opposite hand clutching a closed envelope. It had been an incredibly slow day with very few meetings and a large project having just been finished, so you felt slightly more comfortable approaching her during the work day. After a few minutes, her cheery voice beckoned you to enter. You slowly pushed open the door and stepped inside with a small smile on your face.

Your boss was ridiculously gorgeous. You often wondered why she was busying her time working in a graphic design firm rather than modeling on international runways or selling luxury clothing, but at the same time, you were more than happy to be working under her. She came from a long line of strong, independent women, and made sure to instill the same values in her workplace.

“Ms. Boa, thank you for your time,” you stated politely as you sat down in the plush seat in front of her desk. Directly beside her computer monitor was a framed photo of her and her two younger sisters. The sight made your smile widen.

“It’s never a problem, darling,” she responded, a small grin on her own lips as she finished typing an email, sending it off with a sharp click on her keyboard before turning her full attention to you. “What can I help you with?”

You pulled out the envelope from behind your back, slipping it over the top of her desk. Curiously, she took the parcel and peeled up the flap on the back, dipping her perfectly manicured nails inside the paper and pulling out a small stack of photographs, held together with a wire paperclip. Her eyes widened almost instantly, making your heart skip a few beats as you watched her absorb what she was holding.

“No way,” she uttered under her breath before turning her sharp gaze towards you, her eyes sparkling with glee. Her next sentence came out almost as a squeak. “Twins?!”

You nodded eagerly, fidgeting with your hands in your lap. “I’m about 13 weeks along now.”

Boa Hancock launched herself from her rolling chair, almost sprinting around the desk to envelop you in a hug. She had been one of your biggest under-the-table supporters of your pregnancy struggles, having allowed you generous time off that most companies would strongly turn their noses towards. She almost jumped off of the ground as she pulled you from your seat and wrapped her lean arms around your shoulders.

“I could cry right now, I really could!” She pulled away from you, her hands still gripping your shoulders. “13 weeks… that’s longer than the other two, right?”

“Yup,” you stated curtly. “It’s been really weird coming to terms with it, but I’ve made it this long and everything’s been progressing normally according to my doctor, so I’ve finally started telling more people outside of our immediate friends.”

Hancock smoothed her hand over your cheek, a mothering gesture that made you smile brightly. “You’re already glowing, look at you!”

After a few moments, she finally retreated back to her desk and gazed lovingly at the ultrasound pictures you had handed her. They were from your 12-week scan just a week prior, and you could already see their individual traits. Large, alien-like heads, little nubs for hands and feet, two little bodies curled up tightly in your womb.

“This is probably the best news I’ve heard all year,” she sighed, clipping the pictures back together and handing them back to you in their original envelope. “I take it you used IVF?”

“We did. It was an insanely long process, but clearly,” you held up the envelope with a cheeky grin on your face. “It worked.”

Hancock squealed again, spinning around in her chair. “I’m so, so happy for you and your husband, I mean it!”

Her sentiment made your heart flutter in your chest. Knowing sparing amounts of her history, you knew topics of maternal nature were very important to her, and the fact that one of her best employees was finally succeeding in something she had wanted for so long was an act of pride for the female boss. She collected herself, still maintaining a smile as she folded her hands on her desk and looked at you.

“So what can I do to help you out?” she asked, her dark gray eyes focused.

“Well, I wanted to hopefully discuss maternity leave sooner rather than later,” you offered. “I know I’ve taken far too much time off of work, so even if you wanted me back after four months–”

“Absolutely not,” she stated flatly, cutting you off. “Sweetie, you’re pregnant with twins. The least I would give you is a year and a half!”

You backpedaled, your eyes widening. “That’s too much…!”

She shook her head, affirming her stance. “Darling, think about it like this.” She tapped one of her manicured fingernails on the wooden surface of her desk. “You are easily one of my hardest working employees. You put your all into every single project you’re given, you work amazing with the rest of the team, you’re an all-around irreplaceable person to have. You’re also an amazing woman outside of work. And your husband is a heart surgeon who can barely get time off. Twins are a handful, and even if you have good support at home, you’re going to want those extra months to spend with your babies and to share those moments with your husband when he’s home.”

Hancock’s words rendered you speechless, your jaw essentially hitting the floor. You couldn’t disagree, though, the woman was right.

She seemed to know it, too, as she leaned back in her chair and crossed her long legs. “So?”

You quickly bowed your head. “I wish there was a way to repay your generosity, seriously.”

“You can repay me by giving birth to two healthy, happy babies. And the first step to doing that is taking care of yourself.” The smile she gave you was enough to melt a glacier.

Your eyes began to well with tears. “Can I hug you again?”

Hancock laughed, once again standing from her seat to embrace you. “I’m saying this as more of a friend rather than your supervisor. You are so deserving of all the happiness you can get. I’m so proud of you for staying so strong and pushing through what you’ve gone through, and anything you need from me over the next eight months, just say the word. I know the entire company would be more than happy to back you up.”

You wiped your eyes on the sleeve of your work blouse, your lips forming a smile through their quivering. “Thank you so, so much, Ms. Boa.”

“Have you told the rest of the team yet?” she suddenly asked.

“No, I haven’t. Only Ikkaku knows,” you replied.

Her eyes became sparkly as her lips curled into a cheeky grin. “Wanna go share the news?”

—

“Law, you look like you’re glowing!” Rebecca’s large brown eyes gazed up at her superior from her seat at the nurse’s station as Law passed by with a cup of coffee in his hands.

With a small smile, he stopped to look at her. “Do I?”

“You do!” She stood from her seat, gathering a few papers in her hands before circling around the counter and joining Law in his walk to the break room. “Has something big happened? I mean, you usually don’t radiate positivity this much, but it’s just coming off of you in waves!”

Law gazed forward down the hallway as he walked, the warmth from his styrofoam cup warming his hand. He had to admit, his shoulders had felt significantly lighter, and his chest certainly felt fuzzy in the past few weeks. “Rebecca, if I tell you, you have to promise not to spread it around. I’m trying to keep it under wraps for a little longer, but I think I can trust you.”

Rebecca’s eyes were wide with curiosity as she eagerly waited for whatever news Law was holding on his tongue.

His lips curled into a pleased grin. “My wife is pregnant with twins.”

The pink-haired nurse almost dropped her papers in shock, her feet planting her to the floor as she gasped. It clearly took her a great deal of restraint not to burst out in excitement, so she expelled her quick burst of energy by covering her mouth with her papers and exhaling a long, pronounced sigh. “Law, that’s incredible!”

He simply smiled, continuing to walk. Rebecca regained her composure and scampered after him.

“You guys were trying for a long time, right?” Now it was her turn to glow with happiness. “That’s so exciting, I’m so happy for you both!”

“Thank you, I appreciate it,” the surgeon replied, his own voice airy and light. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this excited to share the details of his personal life with someone. While he had been keeping his surgery team up-to-date with some of the details regarding your procedures, that was mostly due to the fact that his cell phone had become a returning character in the operating theater. Rebecca wasn’t a part of his surgery team, so her interactions with him were mostly from patient rounds. Nevertheless, it was clear that the younger girl was more than excited to be told the incredible news, if her bright, toothy smile was anything to go by.

“How far along?” she asked.

“13 weeks.” He took a deep breath. “It’s been a stressful three months, but so far everything’s been going smoothly.”

Rebecca sighed dreamily. “Wow, that’s seriously incredible… Congratulations, Law!” After a few brief moments, she turned her head to look at her superior. “Hey, if you want any help with picking out baby clothes, I know a really good seamstress downtown! She runs a clothing boutique but also does custom orders. I can put in a name for you and your contact info!”

Law pondered over her offer. Truthfully, neither of you had started planning anything regarding when the babies would actually arrive. The thought suddenly made Law a bit nervous. You were just about starting your second trimester and with everything going well regarding your health and the development of the babies, it seemed like now would be a good time to begin preparing actual baby gear for your apartment.

“That’d be really nice, Rebecca, thank you,” he finally responded with a cordial smile.

Their conversation quickly dissipated as Rebecca needed to depart to go on another shift of rounds, but before she departed she scribbled a name and number onto a piece of paper and slipped it into the pocket of Law’s white laboratory coat. With a small smile remaining on his lips, he entered the break room and finally placed his now-lukewarm cup of coffee on the counter before sitting down and pulling out his phone. He had a few new text messages from you, making his smile grow.

Mama So i might have caved and told all my coworkers today… they want to plan a baby shower now but i told them to take it easy! But dont be surprised if we get a bunch of new baby items in the coming weeks <3

Mama Wait did you change my contact name???

Mama I didnt know my phone could do that LOL it says you changed my contact name

Law chuckled as he tapped on his screen to begin typing.

I changed it a few days ago. I can change it back to Wifey if you want.

After a few moments, another bubble from you popped up.

Mama I think i like being mama <3

Mama Ive been addressing you as ‘daddy’ in that journal you got me so i guess its not much different!!!

Law needed to duck his head to hide his broad smile from the other colleagues on their break. The last thing he wanted was any unnecessary attention drawn to himself thanks to his uncharacteristic grin.

You need to stop making me smile, one of my nurses already told me it looks like I’m glowing.

Mama AWWW BABYYY… YOU ARE GLOWING!!!!

Mama I have to go anyway and take bepo for a walk, i’ll see you later love!

Text me if you want something brought home for dinner.

A little heart bubble appeared next to his response for you. With a long exhale through his nose, he placed his phone back in his pocket and took a long sip from his coffee.

—

Law arrived back to your apartment later that evening, a brown paper bag of take-out sushi in his hands as he closed the door behind him with his foot.

“Babe?” he called. The apartment was eerily quiet, making his heart rate momentarily spike.

“I’m in here!” you yelled back, your voice coming from the living room. “I’m in a bit of a predicament.”

Law was quick to kick off his shoes and round the corner into the main living space of your home, placing the bag with your dinners on the counter. A smile tugged at his lips at the sight of you sprawled out on the floor. Bepo was laying flush against your side with his head resting perfectly on top of your belly.

“He hasn’t moved in, like, fifteen minutes,” you said. “My neck is starting to hurt.”

Your husband walked over to your spot on the floor, sitting next to you opposite the dog and reaching his hand over to card his long fingers through Bepo’s fuzzy head. The animal slow-blinked like a cat in response, the sight making you laugh.

“Do you think he knows I’m pregnant?” you asked. “He’s been a lot more attentive of me lately.”

“Animals have really keen instincts, it wouldn’t surprise me if he senses something different about you,” Law replied, rubbing small circles behind Bepo’s pointy ears. “There have been a lot of reports about animals recognizing symptoms of various illnesses in humans, maybe you smell different to him.”

The thought made you smile. “Whatever it is, he’s already showing off how good of a big brother he’ll be.” You fidgeted slightly on the floor, making Bepo pick his head up enough for you to push yourself up on your hands. Law supported your back with his arm, placing a kiss on your head when you sat up high enough.

“He’s our gentle giant… we’re probably going to need to get a new vacuum cleaner, though,” he offered, holding out his hands to help you to your feet. You eagerly gripped him back, wheezing slightly as he hauled you off the floor.

“Oh, definitely. We’re probably going to need to wrap all of our baby things in mesh to keep his fur out!” You placed a kiss to the tip of Law’s nose before proceeding toward the kitchen. “Hopefully neither of them have allergies.”

Law snorted. “Bepo would find a new home with Shachi and Penguin in that case.”

You excitedly opened the brown paper bag, your mouth watering at the sight of your favorite sushi rolls packed neatly into plastic containers. There were five rolls in total to split between the two of you. “You know me too well, baby,” you moaned out, removing the containers from the bag and fetching two pairs of chopsticks from your utensil drawer.

Law pulled out two chairs for the both of you at the table, helping you place your food down. He waited until you took the first bite before digging in himself.

“So I made an impulse purchase today,” you began, pulling out your phone from your back pocket. A few taps on your screen brought you to an online shopping app which you then showed to Law.

His eyes lit up almost immediately. “Sora pajamas?!” He snatched your phone out of your hands, making you laugh at his excitement. You had ordered a set of footie pajamas for all six of the main Sora characters- Sora and the five officers of Germa 66. “I didn’t even know they made these!”

“Me neither! Sanji told me about them today!” You popped a piece of sushi into your mouth. “Sanji’s always had a weird connection with that comic. Have you noticed how much he resembles Stealth Black?”

Law finally handed your phone back to you. “And his siblings, too. Have you met his older sister?”

You laughed at the thought. “It’s uncanny!”

“Well,” Law began after swallowing another bite. “That makes me feel better. I might have made some purchases of my own while I was on break earlier. I was talking to one of my nurses and she gave me the name of a woman who runs a local boutique downtown, apparently she takes orders for custom apparel. I might have placed a few orders for baby clothes.” He had a cheeky smile on his face as he shared the information with you.

You practically beamed at him. “I’m glad we’re both on the same page!” After a few brief moments of silence passed, you whispered, “Sora pajamas…”

Law beamed back at you. Maybe he really was glowing.

#x reader #reader insert #fem reader #law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #one piece x reader #op x reader #trafalgar d water law x reader #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law #i'm losing you

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marksbear · 1 year

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police consultant reader who constantly flirts w spencer reid? things like "the perp must be taking them out to dinner, which i am also going to do if the nerd doesn't stop being cute" and "the doctor stole my heart, arrest the thief!"

just pure fluff with a charming reader —⚰️

It's short BUT not too short y'know. And I made sure this is all pure fluff my love! ⚰ and thanks for requesting!

SPENCER REID X CHARMING POLICEMAN READER

"When are these guys about to arrive?" Morgan says impatiently crossing his arms and taps his foot growing tired of all the waiting.

"Be patient Morgan. These guys are flying all the way here from Georgia just to help us in this case." Hotch says looking over the case once more trying to figure anything out.

The BAU hasn't made any progress trying to figure out who the unsub is and why they're doing this. So Rossi made a few calls and punched a favor in from Georgia's own BAU unit to come help them out with the case.

"How did you even convince them to come out all the way here?" Reid asks looking up from the folders to Rossi. "Well the team leader over there owes me a big favor from a few years back, so why not use it now." Rossi answers with a smirk.

Before Reid could ask another question the room door opens wide as a group of people walk inside. "Agent Rossi?" An older man's voice rings out looking around the room for his old friend. Rossi stands out his chair and welcomes the older man with a small hug.

"Xavier, hello my friend how are you?"

"Good Dave. Boy how I missed you! Please tell me, what has been going on with you?"

Before Rossi could respond back an unknown and younger voice cuts him off. "Great, theres nothing worse than two old men catching up." Earning a few laughs from the group of agents. Xavier rolls his eyes at the younger male before introducing everyone to his team.

"And this is special agent---" "Y/n L/n. And you are? Let me guess. Agent cutie?" Y/n cuts off his boss again looking at Reid with a smirk. Morgan and Penelope giggle among each other looking at the flustered doctor.

"U-uhm... Doctor Spencer Reid." Spencer says with a stutter making him even more embarrassed than before.

"You know doc, I think I maybe have hurt myself on the plane while getting here. Like my whole head and especially lips hurt, but~ theres nothing a little kiss can't fix, isn't that right doc?" Y/n says with a wink and taps his lips. Y/n stalks up closer to Spencer and leans down by him, so he can get a better look. "I bet---" Before Y/n could flirt with Reid more he was pulled away from one of his workers.

"That's enough L/n. You're acting like a predator with its prey." The worker Anne says pulling her friend away. "If that's true he must be the beautiful rabbit and i'm the---" Anne covers Y/n's mouth with her hand shutting him up.

Xavier laughs out and says "Sorry about that. Thats Y/n just being Y/n. Now lets get down to business shall we?"

Both BAU teams work with each other. They imagine the unsubs profile and picture them having a reason why and how the unsub is doing this. But why all have to figure out where the unsub picking up/ taking the women.

"The perp must be taking them out to dinner, which i am also going to do if the nerd doesn't stop being so damn cute."Y/n flirts giving Spencer a wink as well. Anne groans and rolls her eyes. "What? That wasn't good? Cmon y'all know that was good." Y/n says with a laugh.

"Y/n is right. The unsub must be inviting them to dinner or a bar since every victim dressed like they were going somewhere fancy something with romantic intentions." Reid adds also trying to ignore Y/n's last comment, but fails from the obvious blush on his face.

"The case also lists that the victims were already dating someone. So it's most likely the unsub is going for cheaters or something of that sort." Hotch also adds in. Everyone in the room begins to list theories and possible reasons as to why the unsub is doing this. Y/n whispers into his co-workers ears while eyeing Spencer no doubt giving him signals that he's talking about him.

"Guys... After this case is done I have another case involving me. the doctor stole my heart, arrest the thief! And have him sentenced to life with me~" Y/n says causing both teams to aww and tease Spencer. "Awww~ Spence got himself a boyfriend!~" Derek teases causing Penelope to giggle and join in. "Y/n and Spencer kissing in a tree--" Before Penelope could finish Spencer covers his face in embarrassment causing everyone to laugh and giggle.

"You two just get a room already." Hotch adds in with the jokes causing everyone to pitch in their own joke to make the doctor even more embarrassed. "When is the wedding? And where are my grandchildren?" Rossi says with a laugh.

"I'm already planning to get on one knee." Y/n says causing everyone to laugh and giggle.

"Alright alright. Everyone gets back on track, then we can plan me and Spencer's future together. Like how much kids were having, who's moving in with who. When can I kiss him. And so on and so on. I don't my future husband to die from being so cute~ and from blushing." Y/n says wrapping his arm around Spencer's shoulder.

THE END

#criminal minds x male reader #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x male reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #x male reader #male reader #the bear club #x flirty male reader

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awillowdancingonair · 3 months

Text

“a soul that’s born in cold and rain- knows sunlight, sunlight, sunlight”

Castin x Baroness! (Desmond Asmr)

TW: Scars, cause it’s Castin. A tiny bit suggestive, cause once again, it’s Castin.

Prompt: tracing scars

Summary: When Castin wakes up one morning, he isn’t faced with the empty bed he’s grown accustomed to many times before, due to his wife’s busy schedule. Instead, his wife is there; and awake already. She’s quietly tracing the scars on his chest and arms, ones from all the battles he’s been in. How will Castin react to this morning surprise?

Tags: @themonotonysyndrome thank you so much for all your kind words, discussing Castin and all that has been so much fun!! You’re truly an inspiration.

As Castin’s eyes fluttered open, the first thing he saw was sunlight. The rays of morning light filtered in through the windows of his room, casting a warm glow on all the rooms items. He let out a long sigh, mentally preparing himself for another long day of training. But for a moment, he relished in the quiet ambience of the morning. Birds cooed and chirps outside of his bedroom window, a light breeze rustled trees outside, he could even hear some of his men training already in a field a ways off.

A part of him wished his wife, the Baroness, could be here with him. He desperately wanted more time with her- as he always did. But at the same time, he knew how important the work she was doing would be to the growth of, well, everything.

A lazy smile crossed his face as he pictured his wife. He knew she was probably nose deep in a pile of work at this point. Over the past few months, he’d tried to pop in to check on her once in a while. Often, he was shooed out, with her fussing about needing to work and that he had things he needed to attend to as well. But occasionally, she’d let him stay. When this rare event happened, he would lounge on one of the chairs in her office, mentally grumbling about how uncomfortable it was, and would pick something to focus on. Sometimes it was a book that the Baroness had long finished, other times it was a map that had been marked up. But what the Baroness was unaware of, was that the items Castin would choose were merely things for his hands to fidget with. When he was in her presence in those times, his focus would always be on her. He loved watching the way her dress would sway as she bustled around the room, the way her nimble fingers would race over her paperwork, the way her eyes focused when she read the work. One of the things he loved most was the way he could practically see the wheels in her head turning as she thought long and hard.

As much as he loved these moments, he also missed having more quiet ones. Relaxed ones, with just the two of them.

His eyes opened again as he realized he’d begun to drift off as he thought. He blinked a few times, trying to keep himself awake. Only in doing so, as his senses finally awoke, he realized there was a hand laying on his arm. Not just a hand, fingers too.

His head shot to the side, eyes wide and expectant. His gaze softened as he saw his wife there, bathed in the golden glow of sunshine.

“Sweetheart- what? Shouldn’t you be working right now? You’ve literally never once slept in, do I need to call the doctor, babe?” he asked, his full attention on you. A slight smile tugged at the sides of his lips but there was a look of worry in his eyes as he scanned your face for any answer.

“No, Castin, I didn’t sleep in,” the Baroness replied with a roll of her eyes and a chuckle emitting softly from her throat, “I cleared my schedule for today. I’m going to spend it with my husband,”

Castin just blinked, taking in the calm smile that coated his wife’s face. She was serious.

“You’re joking, right, babe?” he asked.

He paused for a moment, taking in the sight in front of him, trying to comprehend that: yes, his wife really had made the time to spend the day with him. He took a second to take her in. The way the light was shining off her hair, the way the golden glow of the morning looked on her skin, how the sheets of their bed looked pressed against her.

He let out a hearty, happy chuckle.

“Well, if that’s the view I get to see all day then,” he made a whistling sound while he exhaled, eyes raking over your body, “Then by all means,” he leaned closer to you, a mischievous smile planting itself on his face, “Count me in,”

“Castin!” the Baroness laughed lightly and gently pushed Castin away, ignoring his playfulness. “I was enjoying relaxing with you, to be honest.”

Castin looked at his wife with a tender expression. And the two settled into a comfortable silence. The Baroness moved closer to him, and Castin took this as his cue to lift his arm up, allowing the Baroness to move closer, draping an arm across his chest.

The pair laid like this for a while, enjoying the happiness of the morning. Castin was unsure if his wife had fallen back asleep, but a question was persistent in his mind.

“Sweetheart?” he asked. He felt the Baroness’s head lift slightly against the crook of his arm.

“Hmm?” she hummed lazily, a quietness in her voice he hadn’t often heard. Her eyes were still closed, looking as if she was drifting on the brink of sleep. Her eyelashes rested softly on her cheek. She looked beautiful.

“What did you do before I woke up?”

The Baroness propped herself up lightly, looking up at her husband while blinking away her lingering drowsiness.

“This,” she said, as she rested her head on one of her hands, and began tracing a faint scar on Castin’s chest.

Castin looked at her- confused- for a good second before he understood what she was doing with her finger on his chest.

“Oh..,” he said eyes widening, “Why..why are you doing that, babe?”

A nervous laugh accompanied his words. Upon hearing his hesitant tone, her hand retracted.

“I’m sorry, I was-“ she began, feeling confused and a bit embarrassed. She had never been the best at expressing affection, and when she had awoken, and seen the scars that decorated his skin, she had felt a strange urge to trace those lines of his past. But as she spoke, she was cut off abruptly.

“No- no. You’re good. You’re good. I just-,” his hand rose and ruffled his dark hair, his eyes crossed the room as he took a breath, “No one’s done that before. It…it hit pretty close to home.”

His hand gently rose from his side, placing her hand back on his chest softly. His wife’s finger reached for one of the scars, and she looked up at him, waiting patiently for an unspoken permission. Castin looked at his wife tenderly and gave a nod, a love struck smile beginning to creep on his face. Seeing the gentle look in his eyes, and looking down at how the light from the rising sun shone on his chest, her finger landed softly on one of the scars.

“Yeah, go ahead, babe. I’m all yours,” he said with a relaxed breath.

The Baronesses finger started to move along the faint light line on his skin, from what she assumed was a strike of a sword. After she had traced the mark multiple times, her finger quickly found another one. This one was more obvious.

“If you don’t mind my asking, Castin, how did you get this one?” she said quietly. Castin’s head tilted slightly in response to her question, thinking.

“One of my first training days, actually. Yeah, me and the rest of the men got pretty banged up. No sweat though, it’s all good now sweetheart, I’ve got you,” he replied, kissing the top of the Baronesses head lovingly.

The Baroness continued, gently pressing kisses to some of them. Castin laid there, exposed in what felt like more ways than one. Yes, his body was sprawled on the bed, basking in the warmth of the morning; but there was a vulnerability and an intimacy to what the Baroness was doing. One that he hadn’t felt before. Yes, he’d been with women. But none of them had done this. None of them had gazed lovingly at his scarred body, tracing her fingers lightly upon them with a gentleness and comfort that it felt like it could only be a gift from the Goddess herself. None of them had pressed their sweet lips to the marks of his past, tracing the lines as if she could relieve him of all past pain. All while she too was lying on their shared bed, body intertwined with his. He knew his wife was a busy woman. That wasn’t hard to figure out. But in these moments, moments where she too let down her guard and in the process just brought his down more, he felt truly whole. Being without her would be the greatest wound he could ever receive now. Not any battle injury, not any training mistake, nothing. He had seen ugliness in the world, hell, he’d witnessed it first hand. He’d been a part of bloody and dangerous battles, gone on spine-chilling missions, seen people die and his own friends die with them. His mother had been killed by war.

Yet in this moment, despite the cold and rain that had been his life, he could only feel sunshine. A content joy, rays of sunlight filtering through clouds, like the beams that covered him and his wife at that very moment.

“How did you get this one, dear?” his wife asked, shaking him out of his thoughts. He adjusted to turn towards her more, smiling to himself. In the Baronesses eyes, it was one that rivaled the sun itself. He was the sun in her world too.

“Well, it was one of my first battles..,” and Castin continued on, telling her the tale of how he had earned that one. His tales continued all throughout the morning. Laughter and tears would follow, filling the walls of the room with the rest of the light from the sun as it finally finished rising.

In the midst of all the dark of the world, the two had found each other, exposed each other’s scars, and made sunlight out of their lives.

“A soul that’s born in cold and rain- knows sunlight, sunlight, sunlight” -Sunlight by Hozier

#castin hammer #desmond asmr #willow writes #castin #castin x baroness #Baroness

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ladywaffles · 4 months

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From the prompt list: icemav + 6. patting the other’s head?? If it inspires

icemav + patting the other’s head

i do not know the meaning of brevity. send me a pairing and a prompt!

To be a fighter pilot, you have to have ego.

It’s not just a requirement, it’s an immutable law. It’s on the checklist of fighter pilot eligibility. One: candidate must be a United States citizen of sound mind and body. Two: candidate must have a four-year degree from an accredited educational institution. Three: candidate must have ego the size of the Grand Canyon and the guts to back it up.

Fighter pilots are young, good-looking guys who grow into stately, well-tailored men. Elegant. Gentlemanly. Airs of class that have since ebbed away in the general population, but which find a home in the handful of officers who call themselves naval aviators, and they wear them damn well.

Ice has always been particular about his appearance; it’s hard not to be painfully aware of it, with twelve years of detentions earned for uniform infractions at elite private schools and four years of the Naval Academy bearing down on him. He holds it together through the six months of hellish diagnoses it takes for the doctors to figure out what’s making him sick (cancer), where the cancer is (his lungs), and where it metastasized to (his throat). There’s never a hair out of goddamn place through the whole endeavor. But when they finally figure it out and get him on a chemotherapy plan, the pristine picture of the Iceman falls apart.

His tan is the first to go; if he’s being honest, it was already on its way out. It’s been nigh on ten years since he was last in a cockpit, and trading his F-14 for another stripe on his sleeve meant he hardly saw the sun in his cramped offices. Maverick used to tease that he looked like a vampire, losing the California bronze that’s been embedded in his skin since he was old enough to walk. Jokes like that are far and few between now that it’s no longer the job that’s draining his color, but his own body.

In the end, it’s easy to let the tan go. What really gets him, what really hurts, is when his hair starts falling out. Iceman has impeccable hair. The sun rises in the east. The facts of life. He puts off shaving it as long as he can, because yes, it’s just hair, and yes, it should grow back—the doctors assured him it would probably grow back—but dammit, he’s a fighter pilot, and he has his pride.

He sulks about it for weeks: gently combing his hair, putting as little product into it as possible so as to prolong the life of the strands that remain, taking shorter showers to reduce the likelihood of tufts of blonde falling out and running down the drain.

Maverick is solid at his side, his own hair dark as the day they met. In the deepest parts of his heart, he hates Maverick just a little bit for it. The asshole doesn’t even have the decency to be going gray yet, and here Ice is losing it all.

But then Maverick will tell him he passed his driving test and got a proper driver’s license so he could drive Ice back and forth from his appointments so Ice wouldn’t have to ride in a smelly taxi on the way home when he’s already starting to feel nauseous, or he’ll smile at Ice when he gets home and say, “Hey, I called up Wolf and he found that baked potato soup recipe from that place we ate at in ’96,” or he’ll sit at Ice’s side at two in the morning on the bathroom floor when the vertigo has Ice kneeling at the altar of the porcelain throne, even though he has to be at the base at five-thirty to do briefings and pre-flight checks, and Ice can’t remember why he was annoyed about Maverick’s hair at all.

Maverick drives him to his next chemo appointment. He sits in the waiting room, perusing the latest copy of People Magazine. Maverick hates People Magazine, but there’s not much else the hospital waiting room can offer in terms of salient literature, so People Magazine it is.

Ice goes back for his chemo treatment. Phil, his technician, doesn’t say much as he putters around the room, hanging IV drip bags here and flipping switches on medical equipment there. When Ice is all hooked up, they chat about inane things. Phil recounts his daughter’s swim meet. Ice responds with tales of his own swim meets, back at the Naval Academy. Phil says his son signed up for flag football, but God bless him, he’s shit at the sport. Ice promises that he’s not going to get much better at it, if he sucks this much at it now; he’s got his own scars from high school to prove it.

Phil unhooks him from the infernal treatment and books him for an appointment in two weeks. Maverick puts down People Magazine—a different issue than he was reading before, Ice notes—and drives them both home. He helps Ice into the living room and lays him down on the couch with the quilt that Carole made for their sort-of-fifteenth-anniversary. He kisses Ice on the forehead and goes to the kitchen to start dinner, and Ice is out like a light.

When he wakes up again, the sky is a dusky gray. It’s just past sundown. Maverick let him sleep for hours.

“Mav?” he calls out. Ice pushes himself up off the couch, his elbows creaking as he goes. “Maverick?”

“In here!” Maverick replies from the guest bathroom. “I’ll be just a second!”

Ice hums and goes into the kitchen. There’s a pot on the counter, but it’s not one of theirs. He lifts the lid; savory chicken congee, with ginger root and scallions. The Reyes’ must have dropped something off while he was asleep.

“Oh, yeah, Martin came by with some soup,” Maverick says behind him. “He says there’s no better cure than his wife’s arroz caldo, not even your mama’s chicken noodle soup.”

Ice puts the lid back on the pot. He turns to Maverick, ready to bear all of his weight down on his partner, because chemo is a bitch and he feels exhausted just standing here in his own kitchen—

—And flinches.

“What the fuck did you do to your hair?” Ice cries. Maverick cracks a grin, his signature Colgate smile.

“Do ya like it?” he asks.

Like it? Ice reaches out for his head, and Maverick leans in. He runs his hand over Maverick’s scalp, feeling the smoothness of his skin. He passes over the whole landscape once, twice, his fingers tripping over the tips of Maverick’s ears and the nape of his neck, as if he’d find something there like a magician performing a sleight of hand, but there’s nothing there.

“It’s all gone,” Ice laughs, somewhat hysterical. “It’s gone, it’s gone! What did you do? What the fuck did you do!”

Maverick shaved all of his thick, dark hair off. All of it is gone. All of Maverick’s damnable, doesn’t-have-the-decency-to-go-even-a-little-salt-and-pepper hair has disappeared.

Maverick smiles, teary himself. “Yeah, babe, it’s all gone.” He takes Ice’s hands in his and holds them tight. Ice tries to fight his own tears, but they’re doing what they please.

“Mitchell, what the hell?”

Maverick laughs. “C’mon, Kazansky, give me some credit. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you worrying about your hair falling out.” He cups Ice’s chin with one hand, looking straight into his eyes. “I thought you’d be less scared of it if we did it together.”

“Maverick,” Ice starts.

He doesn’t know where to go. It’s a grand gesture, that’s for sure, and if fifteen-odd years of knowing Maverick have taught him anything, it’s that you cannot always listen to what Maverick Mitchell says, you must only listen to what he does.

“Maverick,” he says again.

“Ice,” Maverick replies. “Let’s eat. And when we’re done, we’ll call Slider up and tell him what I did, and you can make as much fun of me as you want—for tonight only!—and we can talk about what you want to do next.”

They end up eating dinner in the bathroom. Maverick takes bites of his congee in between bouts of shaving off Ice’s hair as Ice huddles in the tub, ducking his head keep anything from falling into his own bowl. When they’re finished, they cram next to each other in Ice’s office and call Slider on Skype. His laughter is piercing through the laptop speakers and echoes down the hall.

And when Slider arrives ten days later, to, “Make sure Mitchell isn’t leaving you to fend all for yourself, I mean does he even know how to make a proper chicken noodle soup,” he knocks on Ice and Maverick’s front door sporting a grin and a freshly-shaved head.

Fighter pilots might have egos, but they’re a fiercely loyal bunch, too.

#top gun #tom iceman kazansky #pete maverick mitchell #icemav #lamby.prompt #ask #sluttyhenley #thanks for playing!

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imperiuswrecked · 6 months

Note

I’m so sorry to ask you to do this, but you seem to have a relatively big platform on here. If you’re comfortable doing so, please urge your followers to research the Ben Gurion Canal Project. It is a canal that would connect the Red Sea to the Mediterranean and would be a 3rd longer than the Suez Canal, it’s one of the reasons why the US and the rest of the west is so adamant on eradicating Palestinians.

This is a map of Egypt, Sinai Peninsula, and Palestine. What is happening right now is the mass genocide of the Palestinian people in the Gaza strip and other mass murders in the West Bank. Israel wants to push all the men, women, and children they didn't murder from Gaza into the Sinai Peninsula which is a desert. They want complete control of Gaza, look at how small Gaza is, look at how small. There have been the equivalent of Hiroshima levels of bombs dropped into a place that is barely a few miles long. Palestine is NOT BIG, and Gaza isn't a country it's a part of Palestine, its a city.

I posting these to show the difference, I won't post all the gore and death pictures of the victims, people can look that up for themselves.

Gaza houses millions of Palestinians, many of whom are refuges from the 1948 Nakba, where their homes and lands in the north, south, and center of Palestine were destroyed or stolen by Israeli Settlers. Despite that they have a beautiful city, they built their lives there, through all the wars Israel waged on the Palestinian people they built beauty. This isn't the first time Gaza is being bombed. Gaza has been an open air concentration camp for 16 years, the people inside cannot leave, no one who isn't cleared by the Israeli Military can enter. They have cut off the people of Gaza from the rest of the world for years. No amount of peaceful protest by the people of Palestine asking Israel to take down the wall, to let them have rights, to let them return to their homes, to visit any other part of their country has worked. They murdered the peaceful protestors. This time though they don't want to just make war on Palestine, or drop the annual bombs, they want to eradicate the people of Palestine in Gaza. They are leveling this place to rubble. They have bombed grocery stories, schools, bakeries, universities, churches, mosques, hospitals, cancer centers, more hospitals, they have murdered over 10,000 people in one month, UN workers, Doctors, Journalists, civilians, babies, children, women, men, the elderly, the queers, the Christians, the Muslims, everyone, even the Israeli hostages they keep screaming about, 60 of them have been murdered by Israel themselves. Every form of life they can find they kill. They have cut off all aid. They have cut off all water. They have cut off or destroyed any sources of food. Even before this they have ships in the sea to stop fishermen from fishing too far out. They saw the starving people of Gaza fishing for food in this ongoing massacre, they bombed the boats. This is a genocide. They have been very open about how this is a genocide, there is no confusion here this is the deliberate genocide of the Palestinians. Israel has the support of America. Israel and America will not do a ceasefire. This is very deliberate. Why? The land is so small, they already have almost all of the other land, so why? Besides hating all Palestinians, besides that, why?

Gaza has oil/gas, the resource belongs to the Palestinian people. Israel has already made contracts for companies to come mine the resources. They don't have that right. It belongs to Gaza. Palestine has been slowly suffocating under the Israeli Occupation for 75 years, no human rights, no way for the economy to make money, no self determination, olive trees are burned, farmers land have been stolen, Israel pushes their own products for sale, everything is controlled by Israel. This resource would have brought in money to the Palestinian Economy, it could have lead to more jobs for people. They wouldn't have to rely on trying to get work visas to work in the occupied territories.

But the biggest reason? The Ben Gurion Canal Project.

We all know the Suez Canal, how could anyone on tumblr forget the Ever Given and the Suez Canal?

The Suez Canal brings in over 9 million dollars yearly to Egypt. Egypt controls the canal. Western Powers, America, UK, etc. don't like that. Israel wants to cut Palestine, they want to tear into its earth, they want to rip a scar down Palestine to make Ben Gurion Canal. If they did this, then they would control the canal, and all those millions of dollars would go right back to Israel and America and their allies. All that money made from the blood of innocent people. Built on the destruction of stolen land. Paid for with the lives of Palestinians. This is why Israel is will not stop murdering people. This is why America gave them the green light to murder as much people as they want. This is why they do not care about the history, bombed old historical buildings like the 3rd oldest church in the history of the world. This is why they do not care about a single Palestinian life.

It's not about religion, it's not about "arab terrorism", it's not about any of the lies that they tell. This is about leveling Gaza to dust so they can build their canal and bring more death and more control over neighboring countries and controlling resources in the middle east.

If you want to learn more about Palestine then follow @palipunk who has great resources, there are lots of books, and information out there just ready to teach people about who we are and why we fight so hard to survive. We deserve to live free on our land. Don't just listen to lies the Western and Israeli media tells everyone, do your own research and share if you all can.

Palestine is small. It's a country that wants to be free, from the British, from America, from Israel. Palestine has been fighting for so long to be free, all the people want is to live on their land, to grow their olive trees, to fish in the sea, to create, to love, to be able to visit each other without walls or soldiers controlling us, to pray, to share in humanity, to be respected and seen as humans. Palestine is old and small and beautiful. Palestine is made up of so many beautiful people and religions, we have such a rich culture and history, we love to sing, we love to dance, and write poetry, and tell stories, and cook, we love to learn, did you know we have the highest literacy rate per population? We love each other, we love the world. Palestine is our hearts, they are killing our hearts.

#imp answers #palestine #history #current events #sorry I got carried away but its been very emotional for me these past weeks

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imaginedreamwrite · 1 year

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Brave New World: Part 11

“Grumpy old men.” Natasha leaned toward the camera, her green eyes narrowed in question through the video call that had been missed twice now. “How’s being mated for the second time? Is it everything you hoped for?”

Through the screen, both Steve and Bucky could make out the slightly blurred lines of colourful ink and the shaky sketch of a sun peeking through clouds. The picture itself was kept behind a frame made of dark wood that was hung on the wall, the colourful image was partially shielded by Natasha’s body and head yet they could still make out the rough lines. It was a gift from one of Clint’s kids and had largely represented what they had all wanted: mates, pups and the blissfulness of life at home.

Steve and Bucky had no other chance for pups, they had been told no by countless different doctors and with enough vehemence to make the alphas completely give up on their dreams of kids. They were destined to spend their lives feeling like something was missing from their lives and despite the happiness, they had with each other, there was always a want for more.

With Bucky and Steve’s desires temporarily resolved, they had kept to the constant fights that raged the world, until they found you. Now they had the ability to experience everything they ever desired, to have what they had always craved.

“Better than we thought it could be.” It was a peacefulness that rolled off Bucky’s tongue, a kind of easement that had drawn admiration from their close friend. “Her heat was intense.”

“I know.” Natasha leaned back against her desk chair and crossed her arms over her chest, her red hair pulled out of her face in a simple plait, the messy nature of the bride indicating how relaxed she was.

“Strange, Bruce and I have been working over the samples we took from her when she arrived. She is, as far as we can tell, completely pumped full of super-soldier serum. We talked about it before, and we mentioned that her heat would be intense and it was all designed for omegas to carry healthy pregnancies without issues.” Her eyebrows had furrowed and there was distance reflected in her eyes, a far-off look that led to an intense moment of thought.

Steve and Bucky were watching her through the screen, taking the time given to them while she slept and regained her strength from the debilitating heat. It left you exhausted and drained, even as enhanced as it was, you were tired from the sheer amount of sex you’d had with Steve and Bucky. They had done everything they could too and with you, the three of you joined by heart, mind, body and soul.

“We’ve run simulations and we think the first heat with you could result in pregnancy. It’s…extremely likely that she’ll come out of this first heat expecting. Even if she isn’t pregnant, you should start making a nest sooner rather than later. She will become agitated unless she has a space of her own, separate from your room. She will likely have an anxiety attack when she finds outs she’s pregnant, it’s been drilled into her mind from her previous reality that she was nothing but an incubator.” Natasha addressed them with unreserved honesty, a message that would hit them with both urgency and caution.

Steve and Bucky hadn’t denied or argued with her warning, they had already known that there would be some fallout and reactionary anxiousness. Both Steve and Bucky knew that the damage is done to you by the reality you escaped were not ridden from you, it was still there within your mind. Whether you knew it or not, whether you wanted to acknowledge needing help, you needed someone to talk to.

“She needs therapy.” Bucky verbalized what they were both thinking, the truth able to fall from his tongue without a struggle, it was fuelled by the instinctual need to protect and shield his mate. “She’s been through hell. Physically she’s safe but emotionally and psychologically…”

“I agree, she needs therapy. I know a psychotherapist who can help, she can telecommunicate or you could arrange to have her come to you.” Natasha drew herself away from the screen and stood, signalling the end of the video call. “Get started on a nest, make her feel comfortable. It’s more likely than not-“

“We’ll let you know when we know.” Steve astutely answered before Natasha could finish, attempting to keep himself as levelheaded as possible despite the bubbling excitement that started to boil under his skin.

“I’m happy for you too. Hurt her and I’ll come deal with you personally.” The call ended with three beeps, the black screen reflecting their own image while the two sat still and rigid.

Steve and Bucky remained still as they processed the information they had been given. It hadn’t felt like anything new to them. They knew the super-soldier serum that you’d been given had made your heat more intense, they had been through one, and they knew that what you had been given was meant to result in a pregnancy as soon as possible. They knew that and yet it felt as if this was the first time they were hearing this, it was as if this was the first time they’d been allowed to fully comprehend what was said to them.

They wanted pups so damn badly, it’s what they’d been dreaming of and hoping for. Their deepest and most intense desire for an omega and children was on the cusp of becoming fulfilled, they were finally able to have the kind of white picket fence they’d only dreamed of.

“Y/N,” they called your name, ascending the stairs with something for you to eat and some tea to help you recover from your heat, “can we come in?”

Given all that you had been through and what you survived, something as small and minute as asking permission to come into your space was pivotal. You weren’t given the kind of rights you deserved, your entire life had been controlled for the betterment of people who didn’t deserve you. It was integral that both Steve and Bucky gave you the choice an the freedom to be able to shut them out if you wanted.

“I’m in here.” You answered quietly, following your first statement with a soft ‘yes’, granting them permission to step into the room.

Sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the mirror is where they found you. Clothes scattered around the room were an unassuming mark of chaos from your need to build and rebuild your first-ever nest. Since you’d gone through your first heat and had been marked, mated in full, you had been dealing with the shift in your emotional, mental and physiological being.

Your previous reality stripped omegas of their ability to be marked and mated, to be loved and cared for like they should have been. You had never truly learned or been made aware of the changes that would come upon you after being given their marks, even being taught by them wasn’t enough.

Steve entered behind Bucky, setting the plain wooden tray of food and tea down on the top of the dresser arranging it in a way that it wouldn’t fall off and then he joined Bucky. The two of them had sat close behind you, Bucky to your left and Steve to your right, both your alphas presenting themselves with comfort and warmth.

“We should talk,” Bucky had broken the silence between you, reaching out to rest his hand on your arm, fingers trailing the soft edge of your elbow. “Y/N, sweetheart can we talk-“

You had gripped Steve’s shirt tightly in your hand, your fingers wrapped in the soft cotton as if it was a security blanket. You hadn’t answered Bucky at the moment, rather you had lifted Steve’s shirt to your nose and inhaled his scent, a gentle shiver rushing through you. Only when you were ready had you turned back to look at them, guarding yourself and your abdomen instinctively.

“You have to promise me…” You twisted his shirt in your hands, easing yourself to the point where you could communicate what you had on your mind, regardless of the self-preservation you wished to root yourself in. “I know I’ll end up pregnant sooner than later.”

“Y/N-“ Bucky cupped your arm, his thumb brushing your skin back and forth as you swallowed your words and fidgeted where you sat.

“I know you both want children, I’m not…it’s almost impossible for me not to end up pregnant from this first heat and…” They could see you biting down on the inside of your cheek, they could see the wheels in your head turning, every thought and experience you’d had in your previous reality coming back to haunt you.

“It’s why we were injected with the super-soldier serum, we were the fix for a broken world. We were the solution even against our will, and I know that you’re not-“ you averted your gaze, digging your nails into your bare legs through Steve’s shirt. They could detect every pulse of fear that was being pushed through your scent, they could detect every strike of anxiety and antic, every hit of survivor’s instinct that told you to do whatever it took.

“If you’re not ready…we can take care of it.” Steve moved closer to you, resting his hand on your knee and using the other to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away tears rolling down your cheeks.

“Take care of it?” Your eyebrows had become furrowed and your lips pursed in thought. You reached for both of them, hands grasping onto their forearms, stabilizing yourself while your mind ran wild in different directions. Your screwed your eyes closed and took a deep, slow breath to calm yourself down, fixating yourself on Steve and Bucky as your alphas.

“I know what you mean, I know what you’re talking about.” You leaned forward, further toward them both, and exhaled slowly. “I never thought I would have this chance, to have a choice and to be in a safe enough place that I would want…this.”

“Despite what we want, it’s your choice.” Bucky tipped your chin, catching and holding your wavering gaze. “Regardless of what Steve and I want, it’s ultimately your choice. We want your happiness, we want you to feel safe and comfortable.”

“I want this, I want pups. I always have but I wanted them on my own terms.” You grabbed Bucky’s hands first, resting it upon your stomach, weaving your fingers in with his. “I wanted the right to choose, I wanted the freedom to decide for myself. When I gave myself to you, both of you, I knew that this was my choice to make. The serum it’s…it can only control me so much, but this is all I’ve ever wanted. I just wanted to choose for myself.”

“You have the choice, you have the freedom to decide.” Steve whispered to you, he welcomed you to lean into him and settle yourself into his lap. You wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned against him, hiding your face in his neck while breathing in his comforting scent and revelling in the safety he gave you.

“I want this, with both of you. I want this because I can choose to.” You mumbled against his neck, curling in on him with your legs drawn to your chest. “You have to promise me something.”

“Anything, doll.” Bucky encroached on you and Steve, the two of them creating this barrier that figuratively protected you from the world. “Whatever you need.”

“Promise me that you won’t let anything happen to us.” You craned your neck and looked at Steve through your lashes, vulnerable with him and Bucky in a way you’d never been with anyone else.

“No one,” Bucky drew his hand to you, cupping your jaw in his soft yet strong hand, “will hurt you. No one will ever hurt you like that again, I promise.”

“We both do.”

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friedchickenlover01 · 2 years

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SFW: Yandere Alucard Hellsing x Tomie Reader

Warnings - Yandere themes, tomie, murder, harm, swearing, locking reader up, mention of hooking up and basically one night stand.

Authors note - I wrote this on the opinion that Tomie’s beauty only affects men as that’s how it is portrayed and shown on Junji Ito’s books, gn reader.

- He has been watching you for so long, and yet you still surprise him!

- Alucard stalks his darling and with his power to quickly move through the shadows and along with the ability to change into whatever shape he desires, its as easy as a slice of cake for him. It would be rare for you to realise he’s watching you even if you are not human. So he could easily find out everything about you.

- Honestly, for a sec, before he knew your powers, he would just see you as a really physically attractive person. He would find it something strange about you that he just can’t put his finger on, but other then that, if you were a person who were just walking past him, he wouldn’t care about you that much. He might find your egotistical personality intriguing but thats it.

- Anyways, for him to realise your power, theres three ways for it to happen:

- First is that you straight up told him your powers. Now i imagine that Alucard will be confused and not believe you, he would honestly brush it off. This path needs to happen in his early obsession stages where his love is somewhat normal, when he would allow you to walk around the Hellsing mansion as well as outside at nighttime with him, keeping an eye on you at all times. It could happen where a stranger or a soldier passing by became obsessed and harmed you by whether just cutting you up or shooting you. Now Alucard has extraordinary senses, he can easily hear your heart beat with keeping track of your every breath, the moment you get attacked, he’s right there, cradling you in his arms, the attacker already being filled with bullets in their body. He would be rushing to the nearest hospital, yelling at the doctors to save you, and he’s taken by surprise when you suddenly regenerate, however, not only that, you continue to regenerate into seperate multiple copies of you.

- The second one is that he attacked you himself, this way of happening is really rare as i imagine someone like Tomie will not associate with his profession nor go to the places he goes for his mission. Nevertheless, due to this hc, we will go with the path that he attacked you accidentally. Now what situation and relationship you have that moment is important along with the severity of the injuries. Because if you two were in a relationship or he was already a yandere, Alucard’s reaction in the first choice at the end when you got attacked will be the same. And depending how serious the injuries are, if you “died” from the injuries ( aka your heart basically stopped ) he would either mourn your death and try to make you into a vampire or if you were just a person Alucard killed at a mission, he would literally say “ what a shame, they looked hot as fuck “. Even so, both end with him being surprised and intrigued at your powers.

- Finally, the way is that you got attacked by a vampire he was supposed to kill. This is really similar to the second way of Alucard accidentally killing / harming you. Because it literally is. He would have the same reaction as to the last four lines of the above paragraph. I mean, what can you expect, this dead monster probably killed millions if not billions of people and consumes blood along with killing literally anyone as a type of hobby. One more stranger wouldn’t matter much to him.

- Nonetheless, to the relationship part!

- Since Tomie hates being photographed due to how she ends up looking like, i imagine you too. Now, even so, Alucard doesn’t bother with pictures, he just never had the reason to, also i don’t think he ends up appearing on photos anyways because of the fact he’s a vampire, ( sorry i actually don’t know ). So when he finds that you hate being in photos, he wouldn’t mind it at all, instead, he would help to get out of photographs. Even if that means shoving the camera, moving you out of the range, or covering you with his giant body or clothes.

- With the mention of your appearances, Alucard is not someone who will fall for someone for their looks, he might try to hook up with you but he won’t be a complete yandere or in love due to your appearance as he has cultivated centuries training his powers and gaining strength until he’s literally the strongest. But even though your powers may not work on him completely, it might help in developing his obsession and make it a bit more faster to develop.

- Now due to your powers and the influence of what it has to people around you, Alucard as a lover and a yandere will definitely see this as a reason to lock you up and be more overprotective. He is already possessive and overprotective by nature and being a yandere is just amplifying it more.

- He actually doesn’t have a problem as to what you do other people, heaven knows what worse things he have done in the centuries he lived. The risk of your safety is the problem for him, if you were that desperate to stay youthful, he would only allow the smallest cut on your fingers. You either have to take it or grow old.

- He will also be really curious about this power of yours, he often doesn’t get the chance to meet other supernaturals so he will ask you quite a lot of questions, ranging from who does it affect, why does it happen, etc.

- More on over, unlike a yandere Alucard with a normal darling, he will only allow Sir Integral and Seras to be with you. Along with only maids so no one is affected by your beauty. Even so, he will be strict about maids looking at you, with especially your face. Other than them, he will allow no one to be with you to even Walter is not allowed, this is because of the fact Walter is too much of an asset to be carelessly thrown away, (,although it isnt to say if it cones down to it, walter would swiftly be sent to the underworld ). So Alucard would rather be safe than sorry and not risk too much of not only your safety but Walter’s as well.

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