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vbecker10 · 2 years

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Shadows of the Past

Part 13 (Part 12)

_____________________________________

You sit in the back of the jet where you assembled your field office. Your laptop is open in front of you with two additional screens, one on either side. You have a stack of files to the left, the top one for you subject and the three underneath for the other Hydra agents. You find yourself desperately wishing you had a cup of coffee but all you have on hand is bottled water.

Nat & Loki come out of the holding cell, at least you assume its Loki. He pauses when he sees you starting. Holding out both his arms wide, he tilts his head a bit to the side and asks you how he looks.

“Like a short, balding scientist,” you say flatly. You look back down at your papers but not quick enough to see the slight change in emotion on his face. You weren’t about to tell him how absolutely amazed you were by his ability to take on someone’s appearances so exactly. He was still a jerk.

“Yes, well... that was the goal right,” he says in Viktor Petrov’s voice. He wipes his hands on his pants and then claps them together.

You nod, without looking up at him, “You should probably head out now. You don’t want to be late for work.”

He says something to Nat you can’t hear and then he is gone. She closes the ramp and sits next to you at your desk. “You said you wouldn’t let your emotions get in the way of this,” she says firmly.

You look down at your keyboard, not wanting to make eye contact with her. “I know...” you say in a low voice.

“I know something is going on with the two of you but I need you to keep it together right now. Loki is going to need your help with this next part or he could end up in serious trouble. We need the other members to not even think twice about him not being Petrov. That means you need to be able to feed in all the information he needs exactly when he needs it. You can’t be distracted by whatever is happening in your personal life,” she tells you and you know she is right. “Normally it wouldn’t be such an issue, Loki can take care of himself but he can’t just fight his way out of this. We need to keep his cover intact so we can come back with the others.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry...” you unconsciously rub your arm where your bruise is and that draws her attention to it.

She takes your wrist and holds your arm up so she can see it better, “Did Loki do this?”

You try to take your arm back but she doesn’t let you, “Yea, when we found out Petrov escaped he grabbed my arm.”

She suddenly looks very angry and you find yourself defending his actions, “He was just upset, we all were. I don’t think he remembered how strong he was.”

“That’s no excuse, he never should have done that,” she says.

“I know, he said he was sorry but-” she cuts you off.

“When he gets back here I’m going to-” but this time you stop her.

“No, it’s ok. I-I want to talk to him about it. I think that would be better, if that’s ok?” you didn’t realize you felt that way until you said it.

She thinks for a second, “Ok, fine. But if he ever does that again, you tell me and we’ll let the Hulk slam him around again, ok?”

You smile a bit, you have no idea how many times you wished you could have seen that after Sarah told you about it. “Deal, thanks Nat,” you say with a giggle.

The two of you then wait patiently until Loki is ready for you.

(LOKI POV)

You drive the stolen car back to the bar you had taken Petrov from and switch it with his own. You go inside his apartment quickly, stopping only to grab his ID badge and briefcase before you make your way to the hospital.

"Testing," you say out loud as you sit at a red light.

"Loud and clear," the answer in your ear comes back.

"Visual check," you say as the light turns green.

"Clear," Y/N answers again. Thankfully the subject wore glasses so Y/N was able to get an identical pair made that had two small pin size cameras in them. This would enable her and Nat to not only see what you see but scan images and faces as needed. You drive the rest of the way quietly, the radio on low.

You head straight to 'your' office when you get to the hospital. You lock the door and ask Y/N if she is ready to start scanning. She says yes and you open the locked file cabinet, pulling out the patient files one at a time. Y/N scans each page into her computer as you look at them, she only speaks to tell you if she needs you to slow down or if the file is complete.

It takes a couple of hours but you finally finish scanning the files, time to move onto the computer. "What's the password?" you ask.

There's a pause and you aren't sure if she heard you so you ask again. "I uh- I can't pronounce it... let me put on Nat for a second," she offers.

You smile a little, sometimes you forget not everyone has the Allspeak. "Sure, that will work," you tell her. You enter the password Nat got from the subject and you plug in the small device Y/N gave you. It starts to copy everything from the computer and transfers it immediately to Y/N's laptop.

While the program runs, you put the glasses down on the desk and wander around a bit. The office is small with only one window that faces the parking lot. There are no pictures on the walls except for the few diplomas. The space has no personality at all, what a dull room to spend so much of your time in you think to yourself.

"Done," Y/N says in your ear. You walk back over to the computer and unplug the device. So far so good, you think... probably a little too soon.

There is a knock on the door, you grab the glasses off the desk and put them back on before you open it. One other Hydra agents, Petar Aleksadrov, is standing in the hall, “You haven’t been answering your phone.”

You look at him for a second and then realize you didn’t have Petrov’s phone. You pat your pockets and act like you are looking for it, knowing full well that it is on the jet... with Petrov. “Shit, I must have left it at home,” you lie easy enough.

The other man nods, “You’re starting to sound like Ivanov now. He would forget his head somewhere if it wasn’t attached.”

You both laugh mildly and then he motions for you to follow him. Closing the door behind you, you both head towards the elevator. Daniel Ivanov & Yasen Georgiev, the other two Hydra agents, are waiting for when you get there. Aleksadrov puts a key into a small slot under the button for the basement level, when the button turns red he pushes it. You hoped you would ride in silence but the others begin to complain about various things in their home lives.

Thankfully, Y/N is able to feed you random pieces of information she has dug up on each of them through their social media accounts. Her end of the coms translate the conversation from Bulgarian to English in real time so she doesn’t miss a beat.

You follow the others down a long hallway below the basement level, there are solid metal doors on both sides of the hall. The doors don’t have windows and each one has a keycard reader. This is most likely where they keep the people they are experimenting on. Every once in a while you pass a door and hear a faint scream coming from the room but you do your best not the seem phased by it. At the end of the hall is a slightly different metal door, this one had a keycard reader and a panel which requires a passcode. You make sure you watch Georgiev enter the code so Y/N can record it for later.

When the door opens the four of you enter and take your seats at the large round table in the center of the room. There are already several other people there, you look around the room slowly. Waiting for Y/N to scan each person’s face into the database she has. When everyone is seated, a door on the other side of the room opens and you suddenly realize this base must be much more important to Hydra than you had originally thought.

“Oh shit, is that who I think it it?” Y/N says in your ear and you nod faintly.

@michelleleewise @evansabove1981 @ace-of-gay @butt-ugly-popsicle-stick @poetic-fiasco @lokisprettygirl22 @soubi001 @kats72 @misswimberly @meibruges @juulle987 @asgardianprincess1050 @el-zef @xorpsbane @sweatyroadcowboyjudge @apine7

Let me know if you want to be added! 💚

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checked-windows · 3 years

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IN SERVICE

Aaron Hotchner x trans male reader

Warnings: references to addiction.

Jack had told his dad about his new friend 'Nero' and kept going on about him and his dad who was also 'so cool'. Aaron Hotchner had listened intently nodding when he felt like it was needed.

A few days later Jack was telling him. About how Nero had knocked him over and he'd scraped his knees. Aaron had been worried at the bandage that was wrapped around his sons knee. It had been Nero's dad who had patched him up and scolded the other boy.

Another week past and Aaron was taking Jack to the park for a team day out to enjoy the sun and a rare day off. They were all sat on a blanket watching the kids run about with a ball when a speeding mass of grey collided with Jack and had him pined to the grass. Aaron was on his feet in seconds panic rising in his chest making him feel sick.

"NERO!" a voice called from the side and a man was hauling the mass off of his son by its collar "Do you ever listen? You okay kiddo?"

"I'm fine Mr (l/n) ! Hello Nero!" Jack answered petting the large dog.

"Nero, apologise to Jack" you ordered and the dog licked Aaron's sons face. Jack was giggling and you finally released the dogs collar, smoothing down the fur "Run away again and your going to live on a farm"

Aaron was standing in mild shock when you turned to him with a sheepish smile.

"I'm so sorry about him. He seems to have taken a liken to Jack" the man said rubbing the back of his neck.

"It's OK. I think I got a fright" Aaron responded "Aaron Hotchner, you must be Nero's dad then"

"That's me! (y/n) (l/n)" you answered and Aaron finally took you in fully. What he had originally thought was a strange shirt turned out to skin, littered with tattoos of all sorts, down your arms and across your stomach and chest. A shirt was tucked into the waistband of grey shorts. But it was two faint scars across your chest that drew Aaron's attention. He quickly snapped his eyes back up to meet yours and a small smile.

The dog was sniffing at Aaron's pants and you huffed a laugh.

"Maybe it's just Hotchner's he likes so much" you pointed out. Aaron reached out to let the dog sniff his hand and stroked over his head softly.

"What breed is he?" Aaron found himself asking.

"Tamaskan" you answered "They are bred specifically to look like wolves but honestly he's just a big softy"

Aaron seemed to remember that he was with the team and froze for a second.

"I'm going to get him home. It's hot out and he's gonna need a nap, you should get back to your team. Tell Jessica I say hi"

"Yeah I will do" Aaron said and you beconed the dog to follow, waving to Jack as he led the Nero away. Aaron turned back to the team who were pretty much leering at him at this point. He huffed at them with a glare that had no real heat behind it. Aaron began taking Jack to the park more to even catch a glimpse of you but fate never seemed to be on his side. A large part of him wished he had given you his card or something to contact him on. The agent eventually just excepted that he would most likely never cross paths again.

Emily Prentiss stepped into the tattoo parlour slowly a familiar dog catching her eye as she moved to the front desk. This would be the eighth shop that she had tried, the rest were either booked up or refused to do the work.

"I'm just going to send you straight through. We should be able to sort you out" the receptionist stated shoving things in her bag. Emily followed her gesture into the main part of the shop, the dog nudged her hip and lead her towards the man sitting on a swivel chair. You hair had been dyed an electric blue but when you looked up she knew your face, even only from a brief view. You breifly recognised her.

"How may I be of help?" you asked with a smile, Nero sided up next to you and you buried a hand into thick fur.

"I want to get a tattoo, over a brand" she said and you nodded. This was the 8th time she'd had this conversation and expected you to shut her down.

"Cool. How big of a brand are we talking?" you asked "And depending on the scarring it will most likely have to be greyscale but I can add a pop of colour if you wish"

Emily's eyes widened a bit and her shoulders slumped with relief.

"Are you OK?" you asked going to reach out but changed your mind before making contact.

"I was expecting you to tell me that it wasn't possible. That's what everyone else has said" she said. Nero rested his head on her thigh, she hummed stroking his head.

"I find tattooists in the area are a bit iffy about tattooing over scar tissue. I am too but I'm sure I can work it out for you" you said "How big are we talking roughly? And where is it?"

"I'll just show you" she said shucking off her blazer and unbuttoning her blouse to show the brand on her chest. You winced slightly before scooting closer and tilting your head to get a better look.

"Do you mind if I touch it?" you asked and got a nod in return. You pulled on a black latex glove, and gently touched the brand, poking at the skin "Is this painful at all?"

"No, I can't feel much there anymore. I think the nerves were burned" she answered and you put a bit more pressure on it to see if she flinched away but she sat still and you nodded.

"Oh I'll be able to tattoo over this easily" you said pulling the glove off and throwing it in the trash "What do you think you'd want to cover it with?"

"I was thinking a bird or something" she answered quietly.

"A bird? I can do that gimme like 30 minutes to draw something up for you and you can tell me what you think." you said spinning the chair away from her to grab a notepad and pencil "Also I'll need your full name and some form of ID to photocopy. For our records"

"Are my credentials OK?" she asked and with you nod pulled them out of her pocket.

"Thank you" you said and peeked in the leather holder "Emily Prentiss"

You moved away to copy her details before coming back and handing it to her.

"I strongly recommend going to get something to eat while I'm getting this sorted for you. I wouldn't want to phone Mr Hotchner to say one of his agents has passed out in my studio" you were smiling and Emily followed the order. Going to the cafe around the corner sending a text to the team group chat.

E PRENTISS: I found out where Hotch's eyecandy works.

P GARCEA: ohhhhh! Where!?

A HOTCHNER: Not my eye candy.

E PRENTISS: Lucifers tattoos. He's dyed his hair blue.

D MORGAN: I was thinking about getting a new tattoo.

P GARCEA: very interesting indeed :)

Emily laughed at her phone and realised her 30 minutes were up and headed back to the studio where Nero met her at the door and lead her back to his human who was finishing wrapping the chair. You looked up and laughed.

"Clearly he likes you, Mr chauffeur" you laughed and the dog bounced away to his bed in the corner.

"He's very well trained" she pointed out sitting down when you patted the padded chair.

"Only when he's wearing his vest. When he's not he knows he can misbehave cause he's not working" you said and sat on the swivel chair again holding something that looked an awful lot like a hospital gown out to her. "Nero is a service dog. He helps me with daily tasks like remembering to eat as well as being out in public spaces. He's also very good as noticing the signs of a relapse"

Emily shot you a look while he was flattening the stencil over the brand on her chest trying to keep your hands as gentle as possible.

"How's that for you?" you asked.

"That's perfect, it covers it amazingly" she said and got a grateful smile in return, you spun around and pulled out a fresh pair of black gloves from the box and started the needle.

"You good? Needing anything before we start?" you asked.

"Yeah and no I'm good" she answered. And you started the tattoo, she could see your chest moving when you breathed and moved hair from your forehead with an arm.

"I can hear the cogs turning in your head. Ask the question that's bugging you" you said keeping your head down

"You were an addict?" it left her mouth with far less tact than what she would have wanted.

"Yep. Nothing too hard but enough that I couldn't function as a 'normal' person, I couldn't hold a job this studio saved me" you said and wiped the ink gently "Nero keeps me functioning and safe"

"Well I'm glad your better now" she said and you smiled.

"Cravings come and go but I'll be fine. Oh if you find yourself talking your team don't mention this to them, Nero likes Jack" you said and laughed. The conversation lulled and the sound of the needle filled the room.

"Do you want to take a break?" you asked and got a nod in return "Can I get you a drink?"

"No, no it's OK" she answered. You removed the gloves and throwing them away before stretching out your legs and grabbing a bottle of something green out of a mini fridge. Nero whined loudly and you laughed.

"I'll be back in 5. He needs to pee" you said tapping you thigh so that the dog followed him. Emily noticed the badges pinned to the dogs vest, each clearly outlining the position of service animal and 'do not touch'. You wandered out a door and were away for close to 10 minutes before coming back you looking at the dog with a scowl.

"I cannot believe you did that. Pissing on a car. You're better than that" you huffed before sitting back on your chair and putting a fresh set of gloves on. "Ready?"

"Yeah. I think so" she answered.

"We can stop here and continue another day" you offered leaning back slightly.

"If I don't finish it today, I never will" she responded and you shrugged before putting the needle back to her skin. An hour and a half past before you were putting the needle down and cleaning her skin gently.

"All done" you said "You wanna see it?"

"Please" she breathed and you pulled a hand mirror off the tray next to you holding it so she could see. "It's beautiful thank you"

You smiled and let her keep looking while you tapped a tablet before handed it to her and she looked at the price.

"$200?" she asked eyes widening. You nodded slowly "Surely it's more than that"

"We have a deal on. Half price for cover ups on hateful or hurtful tattoos. I know the brand isn't a tattoo but I'm sure it's definitely hurtful, especially to the wearer" you said before directing her how to pay. Emily tried not to cry as joy filled her heart. She tapped the tip button and typed in $100, paying and handing the tablet back to him. You didn't notice to begin with until you did and smiled softly at her.

"Thank you" you said and put the tablet down "Try not to put a lot of pressure on it and if you need to put a vest on put some tissue over it in order to keep it happy"

She hugged you gently with another 'Thank you' before leaving the studio.

You were suprised when more FBI agents flooded the studio one after another, sometimes weeks apart. You didn't mind in all honesty, they were all lovely people and learning about them was an interesting endeavour , Derek Morgan had a son but loved his job equally, Jennifer Jaraue wasn't too sure of her own sexuality but had two sons to worry about, Penelope Garcia tried to see the good in everyone and everything but had definitely seen too much in her life, David Rossi (hadn't gotten a tattoo) but had spoken to you for a solid two hours about your' life and how you were doing a nice thing for his team and Spencer Reid had come in to get a constellation over scars on the crook of his elbow and told you the story behind them. You had felt something snap in your heart for the doctor once he had told you about Hankel, Spencer had been forced into addiction, you had not, you had chosen it.

More time past before you bumped into Aaron again, and by bumped we meant Nero had threw himself full force at the FBI agent bowling him over. You knew immediately who it was even before the man's shout of indignation reached your ears and raced after the dog screaming his name.

"Nero! I see you pup" Aaron laughed ruffling the dogs fur. You stopped next to them and hauled the dog off panting for air.

"I swear he just loves you and Jack" you huffed and helped the man to his feet. The man laughed and shook his head.

"I wanted to give you this" he said handing a small card over "It's got my number on it"

"Thank you" you said taking the card and smiling at it before shoving in your pocket. You didn't know if calling him was a good idea but it didn't need to happen because you bumped into him first, full on face into his chest.

"Oh my god. I'm so sorry" you rushed before even noticing who he was, it was the laugh that made it through the panic "Oh Agent Hotchner. Hello. I'm sorry"

"It's alright" he steadied you with a half smile. "However while I have you in front of me I was wondering if you might want to go on a date with me?" Aaron asked "Dinner or drinks or I don't know something"

"Can Nero come?" you asked raising an eyebrow. Aaron laughed and nodded. Nero sniffed the bottom of Aaron's pants again and their hands brushed slightly.

"Listen, I'm not suggesting that we-" Aaron started but you were moving close to him grabbing the lapels of his jacket and hauling your bodies together, leaning up to press your lips together.

"I've been wanting to do that for a while" you said a blush rising up your neck. Aaron cupped your jaw and pulled you towards him bringing lips back together, tattooed fingers gripping his suit jacket.

"So was that a yes?" Aaron asked breathless. You laughed stepping back to pick up Nero's leash.

"Yeah. It is" you answered your other hand coming up to brush your lips.

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #bau #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x trans male reader #trans male reader #criminal minds fanfiction

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flowesona · 3 years

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Wicker Man - yandere! jungkook x reader

so my child @babeejk wanted a y! sugar daddy jungkook, and i live for nothing if not to fulfil her jungkook obsession so here we are.

word count: 2.1k

pairing: y! jungkook x gn! reader

Most people (Y/N)’s age would spend their Friday night partying, hanging out with friends, trying new things. But (Y/N) was spending the best days of their life entertaining a young, rich CEO who would no doubt dump them for a new pretty face in a few years.

Jungkook was a sweet gentleman. Always made payments on time, and usually never pushed the boundaries. But there were instances where his hands crept a little too far for (Y/N)’s liking, or his grip on (Y/N)’s arm got a little too tight in the presence of his friends.

He was peaceful enough that Friday night, having ordered takeout for the two of them and put on a movie. Clearly, he needed the company of (Y/N) more than their body as most of their previous sugar daddies had coveted.

With (Y/N) placing their plate down onto the coffee table and relaxing into his arms to watch the movie, it was almost like they were dating. Jungkook didn’t dare push this idea often, happy to stick to the simple domesticity they had as if they were already in love and nothing needed to be said.

He pressed a kiss on the back of (Y/N)’s neck, enjoying the fleeting feeling of his lips on their skin.

“You seem tired, baby. Want to go to bed?” The film was reaching its climax, but (Y/N)’s eyes were barely able to stay open.

“Mmmmm.” They replied, not protesting as he lifted them like a bride and carried them into his room to rest on his king sized bed.

(Y/N) had allowed a gentle smile to settle on their lips, their eyes having drifted closed. Jungkook settled himself beside them, feeling equally as at peace.

“I wish every night could be like this.” He mused allowed. “Would you like that, baby?”

(Y/N) was only his for two nights a week - Fridays and Saturdays, wherein he would often have them stay for the night.

“Mmmmm.” (Y/N) gave an ambiguous grumble as he hooked his arms around their chest to spoon them.

“Really? I can’t wait, baby. I love you, so much.”

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

The morning after, (Y/N) woke up to an empty bed. Unusual, considering that Jungkook loved to wake up beside them and talk in the morning. Brushing that aside they stood up and padded out of the bedroom and into the kitchen.

Jungkook was seated at the counter, glasses perched on his nose and his laptop in front of him next to a steaming cup of hot water (allegedly, it had health benefits but (Y/N) had never understood it).

“Good morning, baby.” Jungkook had a bright smile, beckoning them to join him at the counter. (Y/N) followed his instructions, hopping onto the stool beside him and leaning on his shoulder in a move they knew he adored.

“I’ve been working hard for you this morning, baby. You know, I want to get this done as soon as possible so we can be together.”

“That’s good.” (Y/N) hummed in reply.

“How do you feel about the moving company getting there at two today? That’ll give us time to have lunch on the way.” Jungkook ran his hand down their arm, soothing them as he noticed how they tensed up.

“What?”

“So you can move in, baby. Of course, you don’t have to bring everything here and I’ll be more than happy to buy anything extra you need-”

“Wait, wait, wait a second.” (Y/N) breathed out slowly. “Moving in?”

“We talked about it last night. You agreed, didn’t you?” (Y/N) scrunched up their nose, trying to recall the conversation but drawing a blank.

“No, I never agreed to that. And I never would. It’d break the terms of our contract.”

Jungkook had such a sincere look of hurt in his eyes that it tugged at (Y/N)’s heartstrings.

“We don’t need that contract, baby. We just need each other. You know I’ll give you anything you want, right?”

“And what I want… no, what I need… is for some space. This is just my part time hustle, I still have college and a life outside of this. I want to keep it to two days a week, otherwise it’ll blur the lines between you as a sugar daddy and you as a boyfriend.” (Y/N) tried not to let their irritation show as they spoke.

“Fuck the lines, (Y/N)! We don’t need any of those labels, I just want you to be mine as much as I am yours!” Their companion’s grip on their arm had grown tighter to the point that his nails started to draw blood. Realising this, (Y/N) pried his hand away and stood up.

“I’m sorry if I’d misled you. But I’m not looking for that kind of relationship with you, I’m just looking for strictly business. If this doesn’t work, maybe we should end this.”

Jungkook stared at them incredulously.

“Well…” He bit his lip, deep in thought. “Fine. Life will go on, I guess. I’ll call up the moving company and cancel it. Let’s not end this beautiful thing we have over a silly argument.”

(Y/N) nodded, although they had a horrible feeling in their stomach that it was not the end of the conversation, and Jungkook would stop at nothing to get his way.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

(Y/N) had chosen to make Thursday a ‘me’ day. They cooked themselves breakfast and lunch, did some online shopping and applied a face mask. They had zero intentions of visiting anyone else, when all they wanted to do was de-stress from life.

As they were lighting a candle and listening to some Beethoven, a shrill alarm rang out.

‘Huh. They don’t normally hold the drill today.’ (Y/N) shrugged, waiting for it to cease. However, it didn’t stop.

After a few minutes, (Y/N) grabbed their phone and stepped outside, only to see people hurrying down the stairs.

“Hurry! Fire!” One of her neighbours yelled, jogging past them.

Their eyes widened, but sure enough they could see smoke curling throughout the air and they knew they had no time to lose. Leaving their apartment with only their phone in hand, (Y/N) followed their neighbours down the stairs and out of the building, standing on the pavement as they watched the flames licking at the building and smoke billowing out of the open windows. Soon enough there were fire engines on the scene and ambulances to deal with the people who’d inhaled too much smoke.

(Y/N) found themselves sitting on the pavement, numb with shock. To think everything they owned was going up in the flames was terrifying, even as they saw the firefighters doing everything to minimise the damage.

“(Y/N)! Baby!” Their state of shock was broken by someone yelling their name, and suddenly they were pulled into a tight hug.

“Baby, thank god you’re okay. I don’t know what I would’ve done if something happened to you.”

“Jungkook?” (Y/N) instantly recognised the voice. “What- How-”

“I was in the area when I heard about what happened. I came as quickly as I could.” Jungkook pressed a kiss to (Y/N)’s forehead.

“You need to rest. Come back to my place, okay?”

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

(Y/N) had ended up staying there far longer than intended. Their apartment had been completely wrecked by the fire, since it had started on their floor. Every possession of theirs, gone so quickly, although of course Jungkook insisted on replacing whatever they wanted.

Jungkook seemed to be very much content with their prolonged stay. In fact, he’d been working from home for the first few days to make sure they were settled in and not feeling too lonely. (Y/N) would sit with him in his home office, since they didn’t really have much else to do, and scroll on their phone until he inevitably called them over to cuddle with him.

The young man had become progressively bolder with his skinship, never holding back from pressing kisses to their neck or holding them a bit too tightly to his crotch. They hadn’t done ‘it’ yet, but with how he was acting it was only a matter of time.

They were just sitting together, (Y/N) scrolling through instagram and Jungkook answering some emails when the desk phone rang. Jungkook reached around them to answer it, holding it to his ear for a few seconds before putting it back down.

“Your nintendo switch has just been delivered. I need to go down to the lobby and sign for it. Are you okay waiting here for a few minutes?” Jungkook pouted, as (Y/N) nodded in reply.

He pressed a kiss to their cheek before standing up.

“Don’t miss me too much, baby.” He smiled before leaving.

(Y/N) let out a breath they didn’t realise they’d been holding in whilst he was there. But now, they were bored as ever.

A chime rang out, and (Y/N) found their attention drawn to Jungkook’s phone, sitting there innocently. They reached over and picked it up, only seeing a text from his mother asking about dinner plans next week. But they noted how he’d changed his lockscreen to a picture of them, from a few nights ago when they’d accompanied him to a formal event and he’d asked one of his colleagues to take a picture of them together.

(Y/N) suddenly had something to do. They set about trying to unlock Jungkook’s phone, first trying their fingerprint and face ID but to no avail. Then, realising that he had a numeral password they tried typing in a few dates - his birthday, his parent’s anniversary. Then, out of sheer boredom and with only one attempt they tried their own birthday only for them to be granted access to his lockscreen.

‘Jeez, he needs to get a life if he’s that whipped for me.’ They sighed, as they scrolled through his phone. Nothing was particularly out of the ordinary, until they checked the photo gallery, to be met with tons of pictures of them. Screenshots from social media, snaps from their ‘dates’, selfies with them fast asleep in his arms. It was enough to make (Y/N) shudder with fright.

Another message popped up.

‘I need the other half of the payment, sir, or I will be contacting the police.’

(Y/N) clicked on it, expecting business talk only to be met with something else entirely. Fear settled in their stomach as they scrolled up through the messages.

‘(Y/N) has been evacuated outside, doesn’t seem to have been hurt.’

‘Someone’s called emergency services, but the fire should spread far enough that (Y/N)’s apartment will be damaged.’

‘I’ve started it, it’s spreading quickly.’

It didn’t take a genius to realise what had happened.

(Y/N) dropped Jungkook’s phone on the floor in shock, standing up immediately. They’d walked right into his arms without hesitation, they’d played into his plan perfectly. Jungkook always got what he wanted, no matter the cost.

‘I have to get out of here.’

(Y/N) started for the door, only stopping to tuck their phone into their pocket. They were just by the entrance to the penthouse when they heard talking outside.

They knew they had to hide, but it was too late.

Jungkook burst through the door, accompanied by a stern faced delivery driver carrying a large box. This was subsequently placed by the door and he made a swift exit, avoiding (Y/N)’s existence the entire time.

“Ah, baby I missed you. Here, come and see what I bought for you.” Jungkook beckoned to them, but one look at their face told him he’d read their mood entirely wrong.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He cooed as he approached them. “Tell me, and I’ll fix it for you.”

“Get the hell away from me.” (Y/N) snapped. Jungkook froze. “I know what you did. What the hell is wrong with you? I could’ve died in that fire?”

His face became stern.

“I would never have allowed that to happen. I just wanted to give you a little push to move in with me, that’s all.”

“You’re insane!”

“And you’re too stubborn to progress our relationship!” Jungkook bit back. “Can’t you see how hard I try to make you happy? Is that not enough for you to love me?”

“I never want to see you again.” (Y/N) huffed, trying to show past him only to be caught in his iron grip.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

(Y/N) struggled, but Jungkook’s determination was stronger than their body weight.

“Maybe I am crazy, baby. And you know what that means?” He leant in close, so (Y/N) could feel the warmth of his breath. “You never know what I’m going to do next. So don’t try me unless you want to get burnt.”

#yandere bts #yandere jungkook #yandere kpop #kpop yandere #bts yandere #yandere jungkook x reader #yandere jeon jeongguk #yandere jeongguk x reader #yandere jeon jungkook x reader #yandere x reader #yandere oneshot

472 notes · View notes

plush-rabbit · 3 years

Text

Writing Notes

Request: If you're still accepting requests, id love to see Dabi and Mr. Compress and how they would react to their S/O leaving them cute little notes and stuff just for them? Love your writing dear!!

A/N: I hope you like them!! Note writing is so cute and if I had the patience for it, I would probably take it up but alas, I have no one to write to so y’all are stuck with author’s notes and tags!!

Dabi:

Dabi is emotional, he wears his heart on his sleeve even if he won’t admit it or show it. To have you leave cute notes around his room- stuck between a book, under a half empty bottle of beer, or even placed onto the lid of his cream- he always seems to find them. He won’t ever admit it and he hardly ever brings up your little surprises, but he does appreciate them. They’re sweet. They’re probably the nicest things that anyone has ever done for Dabi in the time that he’s been alive. He’ll hold your note in his hand, the brightly colored piece of paper decorated with your handwriting and he takes a long time to read the note, lingering on each word, smiling when he realizes that you have different ways of writing the letter ‘e’ and how the note is free of wrinkles.

Your choice of pen changes with each day. One day it’s a glitter pen, the other, a fine tip, the next it’s gel, and it’s different everyday. The paper is neat- decorated with flowers in the corner and most of the time, there are small doodles. One day he got a note with a quickly drawn image of him, flowers and stars near him and it was soft, something so sweet and innocent that he stood for a few minutes wondering why you would draw him.

The notes are placed in a tin box, bent from the years and scratched from time, but still sturdy with a secure lock. He keeps all your notes safely tucked in. He can’t bear to fold them, and he’s tried to make origami with them, but the papers vary in size and he can’t bear the thought of folding them let alone to cut them. So, he lays them flat in the tin box that is clean and smells of rubbing alcohol. He doesn’t want anything to sully your notes, one of the few things that he has that is just for him.

He won’t ever reread the notes. He’ll keep them safely tucked away, memories and words of love etched forever in your writing that is kept safe in the dark. There are nights when you aren’t around that he’ll place the box beside him, a calloused finger that runs against the edge of the box and he’ll stare at it. He finds that going back to your words is something of a cheap thing to do. It’s almost selfish for him to do so. He holds guilt heavy in heart but resentment and anger will always win. But, when he stares at your words, when his memory starts to recall the papers written with lily white words, he doesn’t feel so bad about it, to taint the paper that you touched with his hands covered in ash and burning skin. He lies in bed with either you by his side or alone, the weight of your words echoing in his mind until he’s fallen asleep.

Dabi really enjoys the sentiment of you writing notes to him. It’s domestic, something that he’ll never have. He may hate himself, may wish for death and commit to the act, but he isn’t emotionless. He feels so much that it burns him and he is so starved for any type of touch that isn’t fists. His lips are scarred and skin is burnt, staples hold him together but his mind crumbles, and yet, your notes seem to ground him. Simple words written on a paper that leave him breathless and wistful to imagine a life where he can hold your notes in his hand again, where he won’t sully the words that you chose to give to him.

Sako Atsuhiro:

Atsuhiro loves the notes that you write for him. A romantic at heart, he holds them dearly to his chest. He’ll hardly read them in front of you, however, preferring to keep his expression a secret even if he does know that it’s you writing him such sweet things. He's a bit odd in this sense, wanting to keep his reaction so secret when he’s usually so expressive already. Although, he does have a good reasoning for this. He likes to take his time with it, to hold the note in his hand and let his eyes. He’s had relationships in the past, but they were never like this, they were never so vulnerable and filled with bits of something so sweet. It was always passionate, a spur of the moment where something so domestic could be waiting for him. And yet, here you are with a pen in hand and your lips against his cheeks.

He’ll think about the notes constantly, lean against a beaten down seat of the van, let his eyes drift to the opposite side of the wall and think about your notes. His eyes will grow soft, a smile on his lips and he’s thankful for the mask, keeping his emotions hidden from the others. It’s no secret how much you mean to him and how much he means to you, but there are some things that he wants to remain private and your words to him happen to be one of those. He’ll lean and close his eyes, fingers dancing against his legs as he wonders what to do with your notes. The thought of marbling them has come across his mind but he’s scared to lose something so precious for him. For now, they remain tucked neatly into a folder- something for the time being until he finds the perfect place to store them.

During bad days, rereading your notes to him makes him feel better. It’s days where the heat burns against his skin, where sleep calls to him like a siren and he’s reaching towards the folder, pulling out a letter carefully to read your words. Some of them are longer than others. Some tell him to simply have a good day and others remind him to drink water. There are a few- his favorite, really- that call him handsome and speak of his devotion and he holds those close to him. Not everyday is easy and he can’t have you beside him as much as he would like, but he has your notes. He’ll stay up late reading them, sleep dragging his lids down, tears in his eyes when he yawns and he’ll spend the night reading.

He’s tried writing you his own notes, but it always comes out lackluster. He adores you, he simply does, but for some reason, when trying to express his words on paper, they fall flat. Papers are crumpled up, thrown to the trashcan and he’s wondering what he’s doing wrong and why they won’t come out like yours. The pen is halfway used through its ink and your folder of letters sit at the table that he writes and he’ll sigh. He’s not giving up- he won’t admit that, at least- but trying to write like you feels foreign to him. Your love for him is best expressed on paper- it’s simple, something so small but so significant in his life that he’s grown so attached that he can’t bear to lose a single note no matter how “insignificant” it may be. Your notes are words that you don’t get a chance to say out loud, they’re something for him. His love isn’t like that. It’s louder and prouder, it’s him constantly having a hand on your and kissing your temple.

He adores them. They’re his notes, his reminder to take care of himself, his own thing that cannot be taken away from him; they are his love from you to him. He’ll sit beside you, hold your hand in his, and clear his throat. Atsuhiro will pull out the folder, clearing his throat and ask if you would read some of the notes to him. It’s embarrassing enough to know that you know that he keeps the notes but if he has to admit that in order to hear your voice read the notes, he’d do it again and again. His arms will wrap around your midsection, his head between your stomach and chest, and he’ll ignore your teasing laughter, and focus how your fingers twist around his hair and curl it softly. He’ll focus on your voice and murmur how a certain one is his favorite as you read to him. It’s a delicate moment where you’re with something so precious to him. You take delicate care to not let a paper crinkle under your fingertips. His lips will press on your stomach, and he’ll return to listening to you read the letters until he can hear you yawn.

169 notes · View notes

hoe-doroki · 3 years

Note

Hi there! I don't think I've requested anything from you before ( my memory is awful though)

Anyhow I was wondering if I could get some Izuku smut with a female reader.

The scene is youre out with your girls, ( mina, hagakure, Momo) at the club having a good time. You see this green eyed stranger looking at you across the room.

His boys hype him up to ask you to dance and it ends up turning into following him back home ( I LIVE for soft dom! Deku!)

Thanks for taking the time to read and answer this!

Ugh, sorry this took so long, nonnie! You sent this in just as I was being eaten alive by a fic that’s wayyyyy longer than it needs to be. But I’m here now and you said the magic words: soft dom. Yesssss. I went college!AU for this and I hate clubs (drinking, dancing, flirting, no thanks) so I projected that on the reader a bit. Oopsie! It was hard to keep Izuku in character for this, but I did my best. Anyway, hope you like!

minors do not interact

warnings: 18+, Kaminari and M*neta leering, spanking, slight exhibitionism, alcohol (not drunk sex, though), dirty talk

rating: explicit, 18+

wc: 5k

edit: I no longer write x reader but here’s my old masterlist - mobile | desktop

Sometimes people looked at you, Mina, Momo, and Tooru and wondered how you were friends. People who had only known each of you as you were in college could never put it together. But the answer was simple: you’d been friends since high school. You were rapidly becoming different people, but those three were still your girls through and through.

That was how you, Mina, Tooru, and Momo ended up in the club that day. Two friends who really wanted to go—Mina and Tooru—and two friends who really didn’t—you and Momo. These things happen when you become friends years before you could be allowed in any club. Your college friends never would have invited you on an excursion like this—hell, none of them would ever be seen at a club either. But when Mina and Tooru showed up at your door begging you to go out and experience your twenties, you couldn’t say no. Now you were spilling out of the car Mina had called and walking on high heeled booties to a club you’d heard of but never been to.

“Obviously you actually wanted to go, Momo, otherwise you wouldn’t be wearing a top like that.”

Tooru wasn’t hiding the fact that she was ogling Momo’s very prominently displayed chest, all but bursting out of the deep v-neck she had paired with a short skirt.

“It’s only sensible for me to wear a top like this,” Momo said, her voice firm despite awkward fidgets to put her breasts a little more away. “Places like these are so hot that a shirt with a higher neckline would be soaked with cleavage sweat in a minute.”

“Mhmm, right,” Tooru said, flouncing away in her own crop top and shorts, eager to enter the club.

You’d gone simple, just tossing on a bodycon dress that you’d ordinarily pair with a sweater and tights, but that Mina had convinced you to wear on its own tonight. You crossed your arms, the chill of the evening seeping past the thin fabric even just in the short time it took to get from the heated car to the sweaty bar.

Tooru had run to the door and was nearly bouncing, waiting for the rest of you to catch up. Mina jogged over to her, looking the coolest of all of you in her black mesh crop top with nothing but a bra underneath and shorts that had the lacy scalloped hem of her underwear peaking out the top of. You hurried after them, just eager to get out of the cold. Tooru whipped the door open and the three of you piled in all at once, flashed your IDs, and then you were in.

The sound of the bass had thrummed loudly even outside, but once inside, your senses were overloaded. The music was deafening, the smell of alcohol bitter and heady, and the heat of sweaty bodies oppressive as Mina grabbed your wrist and dragged you through the crowd.

Even with Mina clearing the way, you had to elbow your way to the bar. This was the easiest part of the night—a task, something to do aside from trying and failing to work up the nerve to dance. Over the music, you yelled, “Whiskey ginger, well is fine,” to the bartender and turned to your girlfriends.

Mina and Tooru were already swinging their hips as they waited for their drinks, shimmying against each other to the beat. You and Momo were a little stiffer, not quite having the nerve or confidence to let your bodies be taken by the music.

“Girl’s night!” Mina cheered once everyone had a drink in hand. Glasses clinked and Tooru took a healthy gulp of her drink

“Can’t dance if you’re worried about spilling your drink,” Tooru said.

“Not with that attitude!” Mina said. She thrust her beer bottle in the air and then grabbed Tooru’s hand and the two of them stumbled into the mass of writhing bodies.

“You gonna follow them?” Momo asked, chewing on the straw of her drink.

“Not yet.” You had to shuffle away from the bar to make room for other patrons, moving to lean against one of the walls. “Maybe a bit of liquid courage.”

“It probably would have been wiser to do shots.”

You looked around, noticing how many people were already sending glances Momo’s way. You could draw direct lines all around the room between men’s leering eyes and Momo’s partially exposed chest, already beginning to glisten with sweat. You pursed your lips. It was nice to have Momo around as a fellow shy dancer, but it was discouraging to always be the one next to the prettiest girl in the room. People were looking right through you.

“You’ll probably get some sent your way soon enough,” you muttered.

“What?” Momo asked, her voice loud over the music.

“Nothing!” you replied. You squeezed the lime wedge into your drink and swirled it, drinking thirstily.

You hoped for one of two things. For the night to pass by quickly or for, unlikely though it was, something exciting to happen. Bars and clubs were predictable. Just once, you wanted to be surprised.

“Woah, look at her.”

Midoriya tried and failed to follow his friend’s gaze into one of the dark corners of the bar. Mineta was a good foot shorter than Midoriya, so it was hard to tell exactly where his line of sight was taking him. Kaminari seemed to hone in right away, though, pointing eagerly at the wall near the bar.

“Good find, Mineta,” Kaminari said. “Damn she’s hot.”

Midoriya followed Kaminari’s finger and noticed two girls huddled close together, sipping their drinks and observing the crowd, occasionally leaning over to talk to each other. One was dressed in a top and skirt and the other in a tight dress. The second girl’s hips were moving to the beat just slightly, as though she might not even know herself that she was doing it. She laughed at something her friend said, smile opening wide and fearlessly.

“Wow,” Midoriya said, eyes locked on her.

“What, did Mineta finally find a girl to meet your ridiculously high standards?” Kaminari asked, clapping Midoriya on the back.

“Maybe,” Midoriya murmured, watching as she waved to some other girls in the crowd.

“About time,” Mineta said. “I’ve never seen more perfect tits in my life.”

That snapped Midoriya out of his focus and he looked down at his friend, whose eyes were unblinking, scarily locked straight ahead. “What?”

“That plunging neckline perfectly showing what it would look like if I had my hands on either side of them,” he continued, his voice distant. Luckily, Kaminari smacked him upside the head.

“If you’re saying it loud enough to be heard over the music, you’re saying it too loud,” Kaminari chastised. “Besides, if Midoriya finally found a girl he likes, you should give him first dibs.”

“What?” Mineta asked, turning towards Kaminari, outraged.

“Wait, wait, I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” Midoriya said, waving his hands in front of him before his friends could have it out. “The girl I was looking at isn’t wearing a plunging neckline. Look there.”

Midoriya pointed in your direction as subtly as he could, smiling as he caught another glimpse of your beautiful laugh.

“Oh, her friend,” Mineta said.

“Yeah, that tracks,” Kaminari added, looking between Midoriya and you. “Well, you should go for it, man! Try your luck!”

Midoriya looked at Kaminari, brows furrowed. “Did you guys invite me just to get me laid or something?”

“Of course not,” Mineta said. “Your innocent face makes us look less like two fuckboys and the girls will trust us more. You’re our cover.”

“Purely selfish reasons then, okay,” Midoriya muttered. “Okay, yeah, I’ll go talk to her.”

“Do it!” Kaminari said, giving you a thumbs up. He kicked the back of Midoriya’s calf and sent him tumbling into the crowd. Amidst a song of sorrys, Midoriya made his uncertain way toward you.

Three men had already tried their luck with Momo in as many songs. She’d kindly refused each advance—no level of drunkenness had ever led Momo to so much as a sloppy makeout and you weren’t sure how many times hell would have to freeze over for that to change. You joked about each of the guys and their sad pick-up attempts, but, still, it had you feeling low. None of the guys even pretended to be interested in you. They went straight for Momo, trying their darndest to keep their eyes on hers and not drift south.

“Hello, uh, miss…”

You nearly rolled your eyes as you looked up from your drink, half gone already, to find another sucker that Momo would have to reject. As soon as your eyes landed on him, you were struck by how different this one was from the others. He didn’t look like the usual meathead dude-bro who swung by. He had a round face and freckles smattered under the roundest green eyes you’d ever seen. He looked sheepish already, anticipating the rejection he’d get from talking to a girl so far out of his league.

You felt the jolt of an elbow in your ribs and looked at Momo who was giving you intense eyes, eyebrows raised. She looked at you and then at the boy with the green hair, tilting her head, and suddenly you realized that you were “miss.”

“Oh, hello,” you said, unable to hide the confusion on your face.

“I’m Izuku,” the man said, smiling softly at you. “Would you, um, care to dance?”

You smiled. It sounded like this boy was expecting a waltz instead of the hips that were grinding against each other in the middle of this dance floor.

“I’m… not sure,” you said, so unfamiliar with the procedure here that you were floundering. “You see, I don’t really dance.”

The boy breathed out what looked to be a sigh of relief and you suddenly noticed the muscles bulging under his t-shirt. His cute, innocent face was hiding a man who was seriously stacked. “The truth is, I don’t usually dance either. I was pressured into coming here by some friends.”

You looked over at Momo. “We know the feeling.”

“Ah, I’m so sorry, I didn’t get your names,” Izuku said, suddenly looking between the two of you.

Momo looked at you for a second then said, “I’m Momo and this is Y/N. It’s nice to meet you, Izuku.”

“You as well,” Izuku said to Momo before turning back to you. “You know, the thing about dancing is that if you just start and let go of everything, it can actually be kind of fun.”

This boy sounded just like Mina, the same argument she made every time she dragged you and Momo to one of these things. Sometimes you managed to let your guard down enough to enjoy it, sometimes not.

“It’s also more fun with someone else.”

Izuku was looking at you hopefully, and that just made his eyes even wider, such a dark forest green in the dim light of the club. You could feel yourself being pulled to him, like a string between you growing taut when Momo put a hand on your arm. “I’ll hold your drink and just come back when you want it, okay?”

Momo was giving you an intent gaze and you knew she was offering you an out. Try dancing with the boy and, if it wasn’t turning out well, say that you needed to go back to your friend. Easy.

“Okay,” you said, taking one more sip before handing your drink off to her. Then you extended you hand toward Izuku, who took it with his broadest smile yet, and led you into the mosh pit.

There was no sign of Mina or Tooru anywhere, haven fallen invisible in the throng of people. So it was just you and Izuku and a hundred strangers, all feeling the music sync with their heartbeats and then their hips, sending them moving.

You started facing each other, your hips moving from side to side, the rhythm slowly moving up so that your shoulders were shimmying, head bobbing. Izuku grinned, bopping along excitedly. He wasn’t a smooth dancer, not cool or rhythmic, but he didn’t seem to care. He put his hands lightly on your hips, encouraging you to move a little more. Asking you to let go.

You let your hips follow his touch and laughed when he rocked you from side to side, totally out of line with anything that might be sensual or suggestive. It was silly and you realized that maybe you’d been putting too much pressure to look a certain way, to be a certain kind of person. Music was for everyone, dancing was for everyone. Izuku seemed to know that already.

You wrapped your arms around his waist, giving yourself into the joy as the two of you rocked, free of expectation or anyone else’s experience. Before you knew it, the music had changed, the next song slightly slower, and your motions smoothed out to match. Izuku slid one of his hands back into yours and raised it over your head, initiating a turn. You went along and the next thing you knew, your back was pressed against his muscular chest, hips moving in tandem.

“Is this okay?” he asked.

“Mhmm.”

You could feel all corners of him pressed against you and you couldn’t help but push back into him. His chest was broader than it seemed, and you could feel the crease of his pecs, of his abs. His hands were on your hips, strong arms brushing your sides. You brought one hand up to touch his bare bicep, feeling how hard it was even unflexed.

Suddenly, you could feel Izuku’s breath on your jaw, the flutter of his lips brushing against the sensitive skin. You tilted your head, exposing the long column of your neck to him. He took that as invitation enough and pressed a kiss to it. He kissed up to your jawline and just behind your ear. He gave the lightest of sucks before you pulled away and offered him your mouth.

He took it eagerly, your lips moving at the same pace as your gyrating hips. You lost yourself in the feeling, the anonymity of kissing, hidden in a crowd of people. The rhythmic dance of your hips lulling you into a kind of easy complacency as you felt Izuku’s hand on the back of your neck, keeping your lips against his. The other one crept forward on your thigh, awfully close to your center, to the hem of your too-short skirt. He never breached either line, though. Just kept his hand there, suggesting where it could go.

“Come home with me,” you whispered when you separated for breath.

“What?” Izuku asked, face flushed, voice just carrying over the music.

You twisted back around so that you were face to face so that you could press your lips right up against his ear. “Come home with me, Izuku.”

You called for a car and sent Momo a text saying that you were going home. You hoped that Momo, Mina, and Tooru wouldn’t want to come back to your shared home anytime soon—Momo was smart enough to figure that out herself.

Twenty minutes later and you were home, you were horny, and you had someone willing and able to solve that.

“You’re not drunk, are you?” Izuku asked while you unlocked the door and ushered him in, kicking off your shoes as quickly as you could.

“Half a drink,” you said quickly. “You?”

“None.”

“Perfect,” you said, and you wrapped your arms around him once again, pulling him in for a kiss.

Izuku did you one better, grabbing hold of your thighs and picking you up like you weighed nothing. Your dress rose up over your hips and your center fell right against his crotch, grinding into it.

You were ready to give directions to your room, but Izuku didn’t carry you further than the living room before slamming your back against a wall and pressing his hips into yours. You gasped at the impact, but it was nothing painful—just surprising. Izuku dug his fingers into your thighs and said, “You seemed awfully eager for this. Desperate enough to handle a little roughness, princess? Or did you think this was gonna be easy?”

The epithet of princess send your heart plunging to your core, heat spreading throughout you. His voice was low, much lower than it had been at the club and your thighs clenched around him. “I thought…maybe…”

He’d been so sweet at the club, shy almost. You tasted his tongue on yours and he hadn’t been lying—no alcohol. The only taste passing between the two of you was the tang from your whiskey ginger. But now his grip on you and the low growl in his voice was telling you another story.

“Do you wanna be rough or do you wanna be a little princess? Or maybe both?”

“Both,” you keened desperately, breathlessly.

“I shoulda known, you grinding down on my cock like that,” he said, nibbling your exposed neck. “Can’t wait for me to fuck you, can you?”

He pulled back so you slid an inch down the wall, but his grip was tight enough to keep you from falling any further. Then his hips slammed back into yours, as though you were fucking already.

“Shit,” you whispered as he bit down on your collarbone.

“If you’re good, I’ll give you what you want,” he said. “If you’re not, it’s going to be a very long night.”

That half threat was almost enough to trigger your backtalk, see exactly what he had in mind to turn this night into a long one. But, by the same coin, you wanted to see what he had planned already.

“I’m good,” you whimpered.

“You are?” Izuku asked. “Prove it.”

He pressed his chest into yours, and you felt your breasts flatten against his pecs, your ribs trapped from a deep breath by his thick forearms.

“Strip and suck my cock.”

You unwrapped your legs from his waist and he released you to the ground. Your dress was stretchy and off in an instant, thrown to the floor, panties soon to follow. Then you were on your knees undoing his dark jeans and pulling out his long, plump cock.

“That’s a good girl,” he said, stroking your hair.

Preening at the praise, you wrapped your lips around your teeth, and swallowed him as far as you could go in one go. You wanted to be a good girl, after all.

“Shit,” Izuku said, keeping a light grip on the back of your head, but letting you do what you want, setting your own pace. You wasted no time with playful licks and kisses, immediately bobbing your head up and down and stroking the rest with your hand.

The noises that Izuku made, little huffs and whines, were cute, showing glimpses of the shy boy who had approached you at the club. He took off his shirt and you could see his abs in all their glory, even better than you’d imagined. As you sucked him off, you brought a hand up to the ridges of his lower abs and rubbed lightly, enjoying the hard muscle. After a trip down to his balls, sucking one into his mouth and you kept up your firm strokes, Izuku pulled you off, breathing heavily.

“That’s good. You’ve proven that you’re a good girl, princess.”

“I did?” you asked shyly, giving his cock a long lick just to make sure.

“Yes,” Izuku shuddered. “Stand against the wall.”

“Here?” you asked.

There were windows all over your living room, giving a clear view to the street and, more importantly, from the street into your apartment. More than that, there was no telling when your housemates would get home and, even if they knew you’d brought a boy home, they’d hardly expect him to be fucking you in the living room.

“Was I unclear, princess?”

“No,” you said, and you went to stand facing the wall. Izuku came up behind you and knocked your legs further apart, and then reached in front of you, rubbing two fingers from your slit up to your clit in a couple firm strokes. You gasped, your head falling forward, but before you could get used to the rough touch, he was gone.

“Where do you keep your condoms?” he asked casually.

“In my nightstand,” you said, moving to stand straight. He pushed your hands back against the wall, warning you not to move.

“Which room is yours?”

“The far one on the left,” you said, only turning your head to look over your shoulder.

“Good,” he said. “Don’t move.”

Then he was gone, leaving you naked, legs spread in your living room. You could feel how drenched you were—Izuku had taken a whole globule of your wetness and spread it all over your pussy. Now, standing spread, you could feel the cold air from the room on you when all you wanted was heat.

Izuku took his time in coming back, slow footfalls making their way back to the living room. You saw a box of condoms drop on the couch next to you and heard the telltale sound of one of the packages being ripped open. The next thing you knew, Izuku’s hands were on your hips, just like at the club, only now his cock was free, sliding in the slick of your pussy.

You gasped, pushing harder against the wall and thrusting your ass back toward Izuku. “Please,” you whimpered.

“Oh, you don’t have to ask,” Izuku said casually. “I know exactly what your slutty pussy wants. I can feel it dripping all over my cock. And you’ve been very good, princess, but that doesn’t mean that you’re in charge. Understand?”

“Yes, Izuku.”

You were pushed forward by the sudden force of a slap against your ass, then Izuku’s chest pressing firmly back into yours, his teeth by your ear. “Yes, who?”

“Yes, sir,” you whispered.

“That’s better.”

He went back to thrusting, one of his hands snaking around your front, through your curls to spread your lips. Your puffy clit was exposed to the air and Izuku’s fingers spreading the skin provided just the slightest bit of pressure, but not nearly enough. You whined, bending more into him, aching for more contact than the occasional brush of his cock skating across your clit. But you wanted to be a good girl too.

“Okay, sweetheart,” Izuku said, his thrusts coming to a stop as the head of his cock butterflied your opening. “You’ve been very patient. Are you ready for your reward?”

“Yes, sir,” you breathed.

You groaned in relief as he split you open, sinking into you just as he pulled his fingers in a hard, slow stroke up your clit.

“You like that, princess?” Izuku asked, making his thrusts slow and deep, his finger’s strokes on your clit languid and intentional.

“Yes,” you moaned, rocking your weight back onto your heels as you met Izuku’s every plunge.

“You feel so good,” Izuku said, his voice becoming softer and more breathy as he got lost in the feel of you. His right hand began spinning circles on your clit, the left wrapped around your middle, fingertips rubbing almost tenderly along your side.

You could only pant, leaning your head back on his shoulder as Izuku’s thrusts sped up, your climax rising within you. “Fuck,” you murmured as his left hand fell to your hip, changing the angle so that he was now pounding your g-spot with every go. He continued like that for a minute, each hit bringing you higher and higher until he suddenly stopped.

“What?” you asked, and the next thing you knew, you were being pushed to the arm of your couch, a hand to the small of your back pressing your spine parallel to the floor, and—before you knew what was happening—he was back in you, going full speed.

You gasped, your head falling down, nipples rubbing against the fabric of the couch as your tits were sent swinging. That sensation caught you, sending fresh sparks through you.

“Are you close, Princess?” Izuku breathed, his quick thrusts breaking his voice.

“Yes, sir.”

“Touch yourself, then.”

You followed his instruction immediately, snaking your hand down to your clit and rubbing it with your practiced touch. The feeling of your cold fingers against your scorching clit, Izuku’s hot cock railing in and out of you, and the occasional spark of your nipples rubbing against the couch had you on the edge of your peak in no time.

“You gonna cum, baby? You gonna cum on my cock?”

“Yes,” you whispered, the heat in your stomach burning, almost unbearable as you reached your cusp.

“I’m close too, Y/N,” Izuku whispered. “God, you’re so perfect.”

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss onto your shoulder just as you shattered around him, keening as you rubbed yourself through your orgasm.

“Fuck,” he said, and you felt his thrusts become jagged, barely leaving you every time before plunging balls deep back into you. He shuddered and, before long, he finished too, taking slow, easy thrusts in and out of you before falling fully on your back, wrapping his arms around your middle.

He stayed there for just a moment before pulling out, taking off his condom and knotting it. You’d collapsed onto the arm of your sofa, face falling down the side as you tried to get your breath back under you, the feeling back into your legs.

“Was that too much?” Izuku asked, his voice soft and gentle again as he came in front of you, gently putting his fingers under your chin to bring your face back to him.

“No, that was amazing,” you said.

Izuku smiled and brought your lips to his for a quick kiss. “I’m glad. Where do you keep your water glasses?”

“Cabinet above the sink.”

“Great.”

Izuku gave you another kiss, this time on the cheek, and then he was gone. You stayed still for a few more moments, your breath back in both hands, the heat seeping from your face slowly but steadily. You pressed yourself up, curling your spine like a cat to fight against the deep sway you’d had against the couch and the wall and gave a little shimmy to work out the kinks. You took a quick trip to the bathroom, then you went around and scooped up all the pieces of clothing that had been thrown hither and yon and carted them back to your room. You’d just flipped on the light switch and dropped them in a pile on the floor when Izuku came back with a glass of water and a wash cloth.

“You got up,” he said.

“I just didn’t want my roommates to get home to find me fucked out against the couch,” you said with a smile, taking the glass he handed to you. “We have house rules.”

“That’s fair,” Izuku said as you took a glug of water. “Lie back on the bed.”

His voice was far less demanding than before, but you went along anyway. You set the water glass on the nightstand and then lay down, allowing Izuku to spread your legs. Some of the old heat returned to your face and you looked away from him as he took the washcloth to your center.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed,” he said.

“It’s just different,” you squeaked. “After we’re done…In the full light and you’re just down there looking at me.”

“It’s only for a moment longer,” Izuku said as he cleaned you. True to his word, he took the washcloth away after a moment, pressed a kiss to the inside of your thigh, and said, “You’re beautiful.”

The washcloth was added to the stack of clothes on the floor, and then Izuku was back in front of you, running his fingers lightly along the outside of your thigh.

“Thanks for tonight,” he said softly.

You sat up, putting a hand on his arm. “Stay.”

“Can I?”

His eyes were wide and innocent, like he hadn’t just fucked you raw in plain sight of the neighbors. Like he hadn’t spanked you and called you princess.

“Of course,” you said.

“I’m glad.” He smiled. “Cuddling is kind of my favorite part.”

“Is it, now?”

“I’ll prove it,” Izuku said, flipping off the light and climbing into bed behind you as you settled in. Then he had you wrapped tight in his arms, pulled flush against his chest. He let out a deep, satisfied sigh into your neck and said, “It’s just the best.”

“It kind of is,” you said, snuggling back against him.

There were a few more murmurs shared between you two but, slowly, the words fell loose, eyes falling closed. Your breathing evened out, and then there was nothing but Izuku’s arms and breath around yours.

“There’s a box of condoms on the couch!” you heard Mina screech a couple hours later, jolting you out of your deep sleep. You felt Izuku’s arms tighten protectively around you as he too let out a sharp intake of breath. “Our girl fucked!”

“Ooh, what a surprise!” Tooru cheered.

“Out here?” you heard Momo groan, her voice much more tired than Mina’s or Tooru’s.

“Dammit,” you whispered, and Izuku giggled behind you.

“That was my fault, I’m sorry.”

“Shh, just go back to sleep,” you said. “If we wake up early, we can sneak you out before any of them are up.”

“So long as I get to see you again,” Izuku murmured, nuzzling back into your shoulder.

Your chest warmed and you pulled Izuku’s arms closer against you, gripping them tightly before your hold fell lax in sleep. Tooru was right—you’d gotten the surprise you’d wanted.

“Definitely.”

#ask ana #deku smut #izuku midoriya smut #not/sfw #mha smut #bnha smut

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yandere-daydreams · 4 years

Note

May I request Bakugo with a Darling who somehow managed to escape? Tanks

This might not be exactly what you asked for, but… every victory should count, right? Just be thankful Katsuki is a nice enough guy to let you keep anything you can get your hands on.

TW: Abusive Relationships and Learned Helplessness.

You saw him as soon as it was too late to get away.

No sane person would be on the train at this hour, long before most people would begin to wake up, let alone start their commute. There were only a handful of other passengers in your chosen compartment, most asleep or staring blankly at the passing scenery or not exactly the type that would be willing to help a stranger. Katsuki was among them, tucked into a corner on the closest row of seats, but the doors were closing behind you by the time you noticed his presence. Still, those red eyes wasted no time racking over you, taking in what they could before an acute, defined scowl took its place on his lips. Silently, he tapped the seat next to him, and you only hesitated for a moment before obeying.

How long had it been? Three weeks? Four? It felt like four. Keeping track of time was difficult, now, the days always passing too quickly and the nights moving painfully, tortuously slowly. You lingered on the thought, as you took your place next to him, your movements stiff and every part of you itching to run. You didn’t know the date when you escaped, but you were sure you’d spent a night on the streets before dragging yourself to your friend’s apartment. Had it been two? It could’ve been two.

“This how you get around, now?” His voice was distant, muffled by the jacket pulled up and positioned to cover the bottom of his face. He had gloves, too, and layers upon layers of clothes that stood out like coal on a snowbank against his usual attire, but his attempts at hiding his identity were useless. He was Katsuki, for fuck’s sake. Anyone who’d ever heard his name could feel him from across the room, whether they wanted to or not. “I don’t see how this is better than my valets, but... it makes sense. That job of yours must be paying you shit, if you can’t afford a better ride.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, sinking into the plastic chair. Briefly, you wondered how loudly you’d have to scream before someone thought to help. “That’s not my fault,” You countered, half-heartedly. “I can’t use my real name on applications, not without having to deal with that missing-person’s report you put out. You took my ID, too, and my phone, and everything I need to get a decent job. A corner store was the only place that’d still hire me.”

At that, Katsuki let out a low, breathy chuckle, leaning away from the guard-rail and slinging an arm sloppily over your shoulders, not seeming to notice how far he dragged you down. He was warm, too warm, but that didn’t stop him from leaning closer, turning the humid air stifling. You were struggling to breathe, by the time he settled into your side. “And you’re gonna blame that on me, (Y/n)?” He asked, his volume dipping as he spoke. As if he was suddenly scared of someone hearing him. “I didn’t tell you to run away. I didn’t tell you to make things hard for yourself. If you’re struggling, it’s only because of-” There was a squeeze to your forearm on the side that wasn’t pressed into him. You did your best not to squirm. “-you. And whichever idiot is letting you crash on their couch.”

“Whichever idiot was letting me crash on their couch,” You corrected, under your breath. It was more for yourself than for him, but Katsuki didn’t cut in, pursing his lips when you glanced towards him. You didn’t bother stopping yourself as you hunched forwards, propping your elbows on your knees and resting your face in your hands, attempting to rub away the exhaustion. You’d been so tired, recently. You were always so drained. “You should’ve seen it. I thought she would believe me, I really thought she would. But, when I tried to tell her what you were like, what you did to me, she laughed. She laughed, Bakugo.” You paused, letting out a heavy sigh. “You don’t even pretend to be nice! You’re an asshole! Why won’t people believe that awful to me, too?”

“I’m not.” He paused, kissing the top of your head. He didn’t bother to pull away before going on. “I took care of you--”

“You controlled me.” You couldn’t help but snap at him, but your passion was muted, heavy and worn down and dull. It might’ve been sharper, a few days ago, a few hours ago, but any blade you had would struggle to cut through softened butter, at the moment. “You controlled me, and you lied to me and you isolated me. You said I wasn’t allowed to leave the house without you, and you changed the locks whenever I tried. You bolted the windows shut, the goddamn windows. And that’s not even touching on the collars I found in our bedroom.” Another sigh, this one accompanied by a blow to your resolve, making it a little easier to crumple into yourself. A little less shameful. “I used to save money. I had enough for a month’s worth of groceries, rent for the next year, but I didn’t think I’d need it, once we got together. I didn’t even care when I realized you’d gotten rid of it.”

You barely heard Katsuki click his tongue, his hold on you tightening as the train arrived at its next station. You didn’t try to get off, though, hardly moving as a few of the faceless strangers exited, no one coming in to take their places. With the reduced audience, Katsuki no longer felt the need to hold himself back, strong arms wrapping around your midriff and dragging you into his lap, letting your legs straighten and lay across the newly-emptied bench. You didn’t need further instruction, burying your face in the crook of his neck willingly. He was uncomfortable, too hard in too many places and angled so harshly, but you did your best to mold yourself to his shape. It wasn’t like you’d never made sacrifices before, for Katsuki.

You were unhappy with him, you were miserable with him. He was a monster, a maniac, an abusive psycho, but you couldn’t say you were better off without him. Your back hurt from the countless motel mattresses you’d slept on over the past month, your feet constantly sore from too many hours of use and so little rest. You’d had a life before Katsuki, a good, productive life, but he’d stripped that from you, taken it away and destroyed it. You had to start over, now, and everything was so hard.

Harder than it needed to be. Harder than you wanted it to be.

Katsuki seemed to sense your distress, hushing you despite the thick silence. He let you latch on to his coat, his fingers starting to draw gentle, slow circles into your back. Comforting. He was trying to be comforting. “Some people aren’t meant to handle these things on their own,” He whispered, his voice almost too quiet for you to hear. As if a tone too firm would break you. It might’ve, at this point. “I’m not mad. You weren’t thinking clearly, and you didn’t see what you were getting into. You gotta get these things out of your system, sometimes.” Another kiss. He waited a little longer before continuing, this time. “Then, you come back to your big, strong Hero, and you let him handle the real world. Because you know you can’t, anymore.”

He was the reason you couldn’t, he was the only reason you couldn’t. You’d be fine, if it wasn’t for him. You’d be living your own life, the life you’d earned, and he'd be treating someone else like a glorified pet.

But, he wasn’t. And you were so, so tired.

“I… I can’t,” You admitted, letting yourself fall into him. He only nodded, holding you a little closer as you went still.

“Take me home, please.”

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imagines4thefandoms · 3 years

Text

The Man the World Forgot

Part 1

summery: Chris was living the life. He was a famous movie star with all of his films a blockbuster hit. Millions of people around the world knew his name; Chris was the most famous person in the world. But that all changed in a matter of seconds. When Chris wakes up one morning and the world has no idea who he is. Not even his family and close friends. Chris Evans no longer exist, or more exactly he never did. No one remembered him, no one except Scarlet. Scarlet McLaughlin was just a normal college student just trying to make it to graduation. She discovers that she is the one who remembers who Chris Evans is. Together they try and work out why the world doesn’t remember the movie star. Will they be able to fix the movie stars life or will he just stay forgotten in the minds of his loved ones?

word count: 2.2K

Chis Evans’ Saturday night was just a regular Saturday night while away for work: he called Scott to talk to Dodger, went for a quick run before eating in the hotel restaurant. He watched the couple sitting next to him celebrate something and grew a bit jealous. All he wanted in life to find the right person, settle down, and have kids. Chris just never met the right person.

After finishing his meal, the lonely star went back to his room to get ready for his busy day of shooting in the morning. Normally he would at least explore the city a little but he wasn’t in the mood to explore the beautiful Big Easy tonight. Before the elevator doors closed a pair of newly weds game in and were giggling in the corner. Evans tired to hid as to not draw attention to himself but the couple were too entranced with each other to notice that there was someone else in the elevator.

When the now suffocating metal box reached his floor, Chris exited and walked to his room wondering when he would ever have what they had. He kicked his shoes off as soon as his hotel door closed behind him and got ready for bed. Once he got in bed, he decided against watch tv and just let the noise of the city ease him into slumber. But before he could close his eyes, he saw a light streak across the night sky. ‘A shooting star’ he thought. Chris closed his eyes and made a wish.

“I wish I could be normal and find the love of my life,” he whispered before finally going to sleep.

At midnight the sky exploded with light. The entire city of New Orleans went quite for just a second then roared back to life as if being rebooted. Little did the actor know that his innocent wish full of love and hope had come true but has also brought a twist.

Chris woke up to his alarm blaring at six in the morning for his call time at seven thirty. He has awoken with a new cheery disposition than when he went to bed. Chris had a feeling that today was going to be a great day. He was about to call Scott to talk to Dodge and his brother but decided to take a shower first cause he knew he would be on that call for a while.

After his shower, Chris put on simple jeans and a t-shirt then grabbed his wallet and phone to head to set. The bipolar southern weather had subsided and left a nice cool day, causing the actor to decide to walk the few blocks to set. While on his walk Chris noticed that he was actually relaxed. There was no people with cameras following him nor fans stopping him for a picture. He chalked it up to people still being hung over from their night on Bourbon Street. Chris then remembered that he still has to call Scott. He took out his phone and pressed on his brother’s name in his contacts and waited for him to pick up.

“Hello,” Scott answered in a confused tone.

“Hey man, I just called to say good morning to Dodge. Did I wake you,” Chris asked hoping that he didn’t. He sometime forgot that not everyone is on his sleep schedule.

“Who is this,” Scott replied.

Chis laughed thinking that this was one of his brothers pranks or that he had woken his brother up and he was so fresh from sleep that he was confused. “Scott its me. Are you hung over?” Chris asked as he stopped at a cross walk.

“Hi me but I still don’t know who this is. How did you get this number? You can’t just call me to talk to my dog,” Scott said in a slightly irritated tone.

Chris really thought that his brother was milking this prank. Which was fine. “Scott already very funny its Chris. Your brother. Now can I talk to MY dog before I head on set.”

“Look I don’t know who this is but I don’t have a brother. Don’t call here again,” Scott said before hanging up.

Chis looked at his phone after his brother hung up just to make sure he called the right person. He decided against calling him again just to check up on him partly because he wanted to wait til he had a lunch break in hopes that Scott would give up on this prank and partly because he was at his filming location.

He walked up to the security guard and gave him a smile as he walked by, but the guard stopped him. “Name,” the guard asked.

Evans wasn’t use to not being recognized but he chalked it to being protocol. He gave the guard his name and id and waited til he check is clipboard of approved people on set. “Your not on the list,” the guard replied handing back the id.

“There has got to be some mistake,” Chris said slightly annoyed, “Im the lead role.”

“You are not on the list, which means you don’t get in.”

Chris was now more annoyed so he took out his phone and called his agent Charlie to straighten this whole mess out. Once Charlie picked up the phone Chris skipped the pleasantries and just tole him how he’s not being let on set and that he’s about to be late.

“Who is this,” Charlie asked after Chris went on his little rant.

“Charlie, its Chris. Chris Evans.”

“Um i’m not in the office today but if you make an appointment with my assistant we can look into maybe representing you. I don’t know how you got this number but i’m going to give you my assistant’s and you just make an appointment,” Charlie replied in a professional manor.

“Charlie. Im already your client. Did Scott put you up to this,” Chris laughed at the extent of his brother’s prank.

“I know all of my clients and a Chris Evans is not one of them. Im sorry I think you have the wrong number. Have a great weekend,” Charlie replied hanging up the phone.

Chris was starting to really not like this prank. He had to be on set in five minutes, but his anxiety of the whole situation was getting really out of hand so he went for a walk around the city. Then he will be late to set and Charlie will call him back to apologize making the whole prank thing to rest.

Even though the city isn’t at its bullies at seven thirty in the morning Chris couldn’t deny the cozy and exciting atmosphere of it. Once again on his walk Chris was not bothered by fans nor photographers and for a quick second he wondered how extensive was the plank his brother was pulling. He pasted a Café Du Monde and realized that he had planned on eating breakfast on set. This place was on a list of places Anthony had told Chris to visit while he was in New Orleans. These beignets were supposedly the best things ever so Chris took his friends advice and decided to have an order for breakfast.

He sat down at a table outside so he could still enjoy the scenery of the old beautiful city and waited for a waitress to come over. Chris was entranced by some street players when his waitress came over and greeted him a good morning. He looked over and saw a young girl about seventeen in white button-up shirt with black pants, black bowtie, and a long green apron. The actor braced himself for the questions and her starstruck demeanor.

“Are you,” she started to say as she grabbed her notebook out of the apron.

“Chris Evans yes, how are you,” he said expecting her question of a picture and autograph. But it never came instead introduced herself and told him she was asking if he was ready to order.

This took Chris by surprise. Usually you women this this waitress would be hounding him for pictures and autographs and question but she did. He wanted to chalk it up to her being professional but there was a tiny voice inside his head the told him it was something else.

“Sorry um ill take an order of beignets and a café au Lait,” Chris ordered thankful for the pressure from Anthony for him to pronounce every thing he is going to eat in New Orleans correctly so he doesn’t look stupid. The Waitress gave him a nod and a smile before to put in his order.

The waitress came back three minutes later with the coffee and a plate with three beignets. She placed the items on the table and gave him the line of ‘hope you enjoy’ then went back to work. After he took one bite, he realized that Anthony was right about how delicious these things were. Chris was about to text his friend about how much he enjoyed the fried doughy treat but decided against because he knew Mackie was in the west coast for his film and its six am in Hollywood, also he didn’t want to take the chance that Scott had gotten him in on the prank as well.

For the first time in forever Chris Evans wanted to be attacked by paparazzi and to be swarmed by fans getting too close for comfort. So he did the only think he could think of. Once he finish his breakfast he paid and left a generous tip to the young highs cool student and walked to the place where he knew there would be people at eight in the morning: the Flea Market down the road.

Once he arrived to the Flea Market, he was overwhelmed over the amount of people there. Given that it was eight in the morning on a Saturday it wasn’t weird for this many people to be there, but the sight gave Chris a little bit of anxiety. He was starting to second guess being around so many people in this publish setting just to get recognized.

But once again while he was looking at all the different booths, no one stopped him, no one took his picture, and no one whispered about him behind his back. Chris decided to get Scott something from the flea market in hopes that it would make him fell bad for this prank; Chris had also gotten some souvenirs for the rest of his family while at the flea market as well. Once he was finished with his shopping, the actor headed back to his hotel room. He wanted to get some rest and just wake up from this horrible day.

On his walk back to the hotel, Chris thought that he should enjoy this albeit terrible anonymity he seems to have. He walked a little slower and just took in the sights of the historical buildings he was passing. And while he has heard Anthony complain about the streets being awful in the city he admired the imperfection of the cracks and the potholes, something that natives never have like.

He stoped at Jackson square and enjoyed one street performer groups’ show and looked around at the art work hanging on the fence. Some where simple and others where very detailed but all captured the story of the city that had persevered though many hardships. And after gazing upon what is St. Louis Cathedral, Evans really headed back to his hotel room.

This time the buildings were not the things that caught his attention, but the families that were out exploring the city as he was. One that stuck out in particular was a family with a small girl about the age of five who kept asking her father if they could take a horse ride. She was pointing to the white horse who was standing at the corner to the street waiting for the next people he was going to give a ride too. The father and mother exchanged looked and then agreed which caused the little girl to jump up and down with joy.

The sight made Chris’s heart swell. In that moment he didn’t see that family, he saw the family he hope to have in the future. He saw his littler girl jumping for joy over a horse while him and his wive looked upon her with such adoration. The family disappeared into the horse drawn carriage and Chris’s mind was back on his bed.

Chris was almost at his hotel room when he felt like he was being watched, which on a normal day wasn’t weird but on a day like today it was. He stopped and looked around him to see where this feeling was coming from. That when he noticed someone on the phone across the street staring straight at him. Chris knew that look on her face. Its the face fans get when they see him. This girl knows who he is. She is the only person who does. He knew he had to ask her why.

Part 2

#chris evans #chris evans imagine #the man the world forgot

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theunconcernedembalmer · 3 years

Note

what’s the issue with elisop? is it just bc you hc aesop as ace? im so concerned by seeing ppl adamantly opposed to mlm/wlw ships but im also genuinely curious about why you dislike it and other lgbt ships so much lol

hmm. that is a strong accusation, n i find it just a bit odd. are you new here? or perhaps you are taking personal offense at my dislike towards a favourite ship of yours and using the lgbt argument as moral high ground?

whatever the case may be, i thank you for asking. if u r truly looking for an answer, its below the cut n it is very very long. mind u these are all my personal opinions n i am in no way policing how others enjoy ships. just in case this wasnt clear; i dont wish to start discourse on this blog, especially since my takes are probably... unpopular.

firstly i would like to address the “disliking lgbt ships” bit, because this has very strong implications in itself. i have nothing against lgbt ships. i enjoy them, even. if the two characters have chemistry between each other, i ship it. however, the moment characterization is broken for the sake of romance, i lose interest. this is generally my stance on ships in general, n this applies for both straight n lgbt ships.

the ships themselves are fine. however, i do have issues with the ship dynamics, so ill let u in on that.

i want to touch on mlm ships in particular; i believe u are familiar with the top/bottom dynamic that is rampant in these kinds of ships? (i wont deny that this dynamic can be found in other types of ships, but for arguments sake i will be focusing on gay ships because i feel that this occurs more commonly here) its such a popular dynamic that is prone to stripping the personality from one if not both characters, only for them to be reduced to being dominant/submissive. for a character to be pigeonholed into a stereotypical category based on... preferred sexual positions? its just downright insulting, never mind the larger more problematic implications of it. top/bottom is not indicative of someones personality, by the way. flattening multi dimensional characters into these stereotypes is so so so insulting.

unfortunately this is The Most Popular portrayal of just about any gay ship around. ive seen it being used everywhere in so many fandoms n it just about becomes apparent to me that ppl come to stories looking for a Ship. not the stories, nor the characters, just a ship. while id like to say theres nothing wrong with that, keep in mind not everyone is just looking for 2 characters that look pretty next to each other. if i ship something, i see interesting n meaningful interactions between 2 characters, which is so often not the case once u bring in the top/bottom dynamic. why is it so popular? because somehow this is what ppl like from a gay ship n hence it sells. ppl want the drama, characterizations be damned. ppl want to see the big kiss that happens in the end, n maybe the sexy parts that come after. characterizations be damned.

so u can say im a little wary of gay ships when they cross my feed. hell, as a joseph aesop shipper i see this trope everywhere n im pretty disappointed as well. small tangent but i feel like this is the reason why zh0ngli n ch1lde is so popular in g3nshin. i try to see the appeal, i really do, but after a long while of analyzing their respective characters i dont think they have as much chemistry as ppl think they do. dont even get me started on how incredibly ooc they make either of these very interesting n unique characters in ship portrayals. all because of the top/bottom dynamic that ppl want to see. i say this for that particular ship, but this is pretty much the case for a lot of ships out there, n the latter part is painfully true even when the 2 characters do have potential between each other. ill say it again im disgusted by the blatant disrespect to the characterizations if all ppl ever want is 2 pretty puppets to mush lips together. cos thats what theyre essentially reduced to this way.

n its so obvious to see when an artist subscribes to this rhetoric, because u can so clearly see it in the way they draw their characters. the “top” generally has sharper features to go with their “dominating personality”, while the “bottom” has disturbingly softer, feminine, dare i say sometimes child like features “to submit”. n thats where the uwu soft gay trope comes from, i believe. which, in case u still dont know, i hate with a burning passion.

so again for ppl with impaired reading comprehension, im fine with ships, including lgbt ones, but the moment u break characterization for the sake of the ship, im not that okay with it. u want to do it for a short crack comic? fine. but if thats the only way ur portraying the 2 characters then im immediately wary of ur content. ill still look at it cos usually the art is really good, but im very very wary. so im not “adamantly opposed”, just very critical of how the ships are being portrayed. if other ppl want to enjoy their ships like that, sure. just dont expect me to join in on something i dont agree on.

now id like to address not shipping “because i hc aesop as ace”. for ppl who are new to the blog (hello there), im an ace in a romantic relationship, so thats definitely not the reason i dont ship elisop. its more of being in a relationship has largely shaped my views towards romance as a whole. even before i met my boyfriend, i hated the romance genre in stories n media. most of it comes off as incredibly forced, especially those love triangles they seem to love putting into teen novels. thats one reason why i stopped reading when i was younger, but i digress.

did i partake in shipping when i was younger? i did. for a gay ship too (if anyone really wants to know, its kurotsukki from haikyuu. at least this was one that i can remember, i was mostly working on my 20 odd ocs for the longest time). i also used to write little short romance ficlets that i never posted anywhere cos i hated (n still do hate) my writing. but writing romance when u dont have experience was really just a way of projecting n probably a way of coping for myself, not that i knew at that time. but after i actually started a relationship with my boyfriend (whom i love n cherish a lot thank u very much), i began to see how much all these have skewed my views towards romance n have actually done some harm to our relationship. the bullshit that the general media feeds u constantly doesnt help in the slightest either.

quick topic shift to elisop in particular (about time, right?). i already stated that i only ship characters if i sense chemistry between the two personalities, n if u have seen the part where i dont ship elisop then u must have seen how agonized i am over not being able to have a concrete personality for eli. that is the main problem i have with elisop: eli does not feel like a solid character to me. n that is a huge problem, because if he doesnt have any defining characteristics besides being mild n nice, then he can be whoever i want him to be. (i have done this in my exorcist comics, i will admit this. n the fact that i can just do that... it really does not sit well with me personally.)

n that is dangerous.

back to young me doing lil ship things. i think its also pretty safe to say when u really do ship 2 characters, chances are u kinda really relate very very hard to at least one of them. that very quickly can turn into projecting, n shipping therefore is not “exploring the relationship between 2 characters” n it becomes “my preferred dating simulator 101″. of course this isnt always the case, but at least it was for me, n subconsciously it might be for lots of ppl too. n since this is ur mental playground, u call the shots, n there is no consequences if u slightly (or even entirely) alter one or both personalities to fit ur desired narrative. n u wouldnt even notice or know, cos ur blind to ur own biasness.

we bring our perceived notions into real life, im sure u know that. so when ur partner does not become that perfect knight in shining armour, or when they get upset at things that u do (which is a very normal thing by the way), n u think (very subconsciously), That isnt what my otp would do, something is wrong here (nothing is wrong, actually its just ur skewed perception of a stable romantic relationship). why wouldnt ur otp do this? because u are both halves of ur otps, there is no hidden secrets between them (apart from the pining part but thats irrelevant), n again they have been altered to fit ur preferred narrative.

a real relationship requires a lot of communication between parties, because newsflash, liking someone doesnt mean that u have to like every single thing they do, they will make mistakes n it will hurt u, n guess what, the reverse is also true. if u do go with absoutely anything that they would do with 0 objections whatsoever, ur not crushing on someone, ur idolizing them, n that power imbalance is detrimental to a relationship. these things are not obvious to ppl, especially when the whole climate is hell bent on getting into romantic relationships by a certain age or some bullshit. communication is key n is pretty much the only way to solve relationship issues, because the other person has a lot that u r not seeing n vice versa. as similar as 2 ppl can be, i doubt u can have 100% the same thoughts on all things. i dont make the rules.

so in ur mental playground u focus on the fluffy parts, maybe there is communication, but rarely is there any meaningful conflict. thats unrealistic, n if u bring that mindset to an actual relationship, thats not going to end well. i say meaningful conflict, because yes, generally u shouldnt have conflicts with ur significant other. but inevitably when ur with each other for long enough, u will realize that there are habits that u must change in order to be with the other person. habits that are harmful to the other person directly, or harmful habits towards yourself that indirectly harm the other person. these are meaningful in a sense that if left alone, it will manifest into larger problems that will harm u, the other person n the relationship as a whole. its meaningful to the relationship.

all these is made even worse if ur neurodivergent. maladaptive coping practices, self sabotaging behaviours, inherent disabilities. all these must be adjusted n addressed. im so incredibly thankful for my boyfriend for being incredibly patient with me when working all these out, n it has not been easy for me to work on myself n all my problems, n im still not done working on them. this aspect is often not explored in romance in general (or properly), n there is a very good chance i would have still been stuck in the unhealthy mindset of “this isnt like my otp, maybe we’re not meant to be”. because loving someone is a choice. no one is made for each other, it is a conscious choice made between 2 ppl to make things work. this is how arranged marriages work, i am told, n i do see the appeal, not that it actually does appeal to me culturally.

special mention to the kurotsukki ship, cos from there i found a very, very good fic that explored their relationship before n after getting together, n it actually showed aspects of this problem in the incredibly slow burn of (at that time) 20+ chapters. it was just one fic (n a very good one at that, i believe it was called Leviticus), but it had a lesson i never thought i needed to learn, n learn it i did, with a lot of help from my dear.

this is also probably the reason why i dont really want to delve too much into romance now. i know its a lot of work, n everything (mostly) that the media feeds u is really false advertising, but ppl eat that shit up n so it remains one of the most popular genres to date. im just very wary that if i do start on a romantic story, i want to be able to show it in a way like that fic did, the truths of relationships, because i dont want to make something that sells, i want to make something that meaningful to me, if a little indulgent. n that also includes being very careful in how the respective characterizations will change in a relationship. almost too careful now that i think about it, but its not something that i mind. i was never one for romance from the start, n now im very careful about shipping because of what happened to me persoanlly.

okay enough about me, lets talk about aesop. in any au u put the character in, the essence of the character must remain despite the change in environment. so lets say we have ur typical modern au. dead mom, check. shitty mentor doing illegal stuff? also check. autistic boy with social anxiety? we’re good to go. all these have implications on aesop as a character, n while ppl are aware of this, again the way they go about portraying it can go, in my personal opinion, very wrong. ppl who immediately woobify aesop completely because he has autism annoy me. ppl who reduce him to uwu soft boi cos he has social anxiety do not know how the disorder really works n as someone who has that i hate it to the core. ppl who do all these for the sake of ship have lost my respect. its insulting.

remember the top/bottom dynamic? not that elisop is completely free from that (even if i dont know much about eli, to put him in either one of those stereotypes feels very insulting to his character. i wont even say anything about doing it to aesop its so upsetting), but its not entirely made up of either. but now i want to introduce another trope i am very wary of, which is “i can fix him”. im sure u guys have seen the meme going around poking fun at this trope (for those who havent, its along the lines of “u can fix him? well i can be his worst nightmare”) n no doubt yall would have seen it n gotten sick of it in some forced hetero romantic bullshit. we have one damsel in distress with a saviour that solves all their problems just by existing n being romo with each other.

remember “my preferred dating simulator 101″? this is not mutually exclusive n from my point of view this is dangerously close to this trope. lets be real, if it was actually a thing that all ur deep rooted trauma magically disappears if someone were to waltz into ur life, we would want it. definitely. no painfully dissecting ur own problems n constantly facing them head on. real life states that this is not the case, but it will not stop us from dreaming. n so this trope is born n lives n will go on.

(finally) pulling aesop n eli into this, at least in my mind, u have one severely traumatized boy with lots of issues n u have this. nice mild guy who can be anything u want him to be. i hope u can see where im going with this, n thats the direction i see some elisop heading towards (i dont read a lot of elisop to be fair). if u came from my eli character talk, i mentioned that it is incredibly one sided. this is exactly what im talking about.

putting it all together in case u havent already, aesop is the damsel in distress, whose problems magically disappear because of elis godly kindness n little to no work on improving himself, n they lived happily n gayly ever after.

can u tell how much that does not appeal to me.

never mind the butchering of character that inevitably happens somewhere somehow, the unrealistically perfect themes n implications of this trope makes me so viscerally uncomfortable. this is, of course, due to personal reasons, n i definitely see the appeal of this dynamic because i would probably have been interested in this once upon a time as well. but as i am now, with everything i have explained up there n everything i have been through, i would politely rather not.

n its difficult to think of another dynamic, because of how little i know about eli apart from him being this saint, which easily makes him a candidate for being aesops trauma panacea. never mind aesop rarely, if ever, does anything for eli as a character in return, n its so damaging to buy into this rhetoric, where a person like this who would solve all ur issues no strings attached exists somewhere in the world. they really dont. a relationship has to be mutually benefitting, or it will be draining n disastrous. maybe u say, Oh its nice to imagine it once in a while. n yeah, i agree, except once in a while is a little difficult to keep track of n that is sort of what happened to me. id rather stay as far away as possible from this kind of unrealistic fantasy, i just got this shit sorted out with myself n my boyfriend.

i have some other reasons, but theyre more personally problematic, so i wont go into them here. but this is mostly n generally why i do not ship elisop romantically. if u do, u do u, and have fun, but again dont expect me to join u. thank u for coming to my ted talk, this took a lot longer than expected.

#mun rambles #its me the mun #unconcerned ramblings #posting this now cos this is a question ive been getting #although this has been worded in the most unnecessarily passive aggressive way possible that i do not appreciate #im wary about all u so called social justice warriors championing this n that liberal idea when all u want to do is stir shit #thankfully i dont have much experience with this but just passively seeing all these ppl run their mouths is getting very annoying #but just know that i will not tolerate any of that bullshit here. because if u really do care about ppl as much as u say u do #then why r u attacking ppl period #ur really just hiding behind a righteous excuse to harm people. thats disgusting. i dont want u here

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mollymauk-teafleak · 3 years

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“don’t do that. don’t shut me out.” + Jupeter

I wrote this for @spiky-lesbian because she’s had a rough week so here’s some angst babe, go figure

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“I’m getting too old for this.”

Juno was pretty sure PIs were supposed to think that sort of thing when they were doing something cool and dangerous, like leaping the gap between the cars of a moving train or ducking behind crates at a harbour to avoid laser fire.

Rather than crawling on their stomachs to get their pet sewer rabbit’s favourite ball out from behind the sofa. But hey, it was his day off.

Then again, Small Fry did look delighted when he straightened back up with a loud groan and the cracking of some vertebrae, whiffling her nose and hopping excitedly, shaking the floorboards of their little apartment. Smiling fondly, Juno threw the ball off down the hallway so she could chase it, squeaking happily.

“Next time that happens I’m not getting it out for you! You can go make goo goo eyes at your daddy for a change,” he called after her, brushing dust from his curls and his shirt. But the smile didn’t fade from his face, even after she had rounded the corner to go and cause mischief somewhere else. Anyone who said keeping a massive sewer rabbit in a modest Hyperion apartment was a bad idea was just too afraid of cleaning up the occasional broken lamp or gnaw marks on the walls.

He was about to straighten back up and go back to the book he’d been reading, he got so little time to do things like that these days but his husband was still at work, the boys were asleep and Bianca was happily playing in her room, giving him a rare hour or two to himself that he didn’t want to waste. He was mildly tempted to crack the lock on the drawer where Nureyev stowed away any case files he brought home so he couldn’t continue working himself ragged outside of his own office but, contrary to the size of the lock and the dedication with which his husband hid the key, he really was getting better at giving himself time off.

After all, it had been a hell of a long time since work was the only thing he had to keep him going.

He was about to do that when something else behind the sofa caught his eye, something that wasn’t just a toy of Bee Bee’s that she’d forgotten or one of Small Fry’s hordes of left socks that she liked to build nests out of. He was about to sigh and mutter something about the wonders of having three kids being that you’d find trash in the weirdest places but something wary ran its way down his spine. Something that was maybe instinct, maybe his detective brain putting pieces together and proving yet again that the years spent theoretically on the other side of law and order hadn’t dampened his skills.

Whatever it was, it made him reach out, once again feeling the twinge in the base of his spine, using his hip to nudge the couch further out so he could snag it and bring it out.

It was a small bag, something designed to be inconspicuously held at the waist or over the shoulder, dark in colour so it wouldn’t catch the eye. Juno frowned, the wariness growing stronger as he sat on the couch and opened it up.

He recognised the precision and fastidiousness immediately, like it was rolling off it in waves like too much perfume. It was in the way everything was crammed in so tight there wasn’t a spare inch of space, everything chosen for its shape and size so it would go in seamlessly like a game of tetris. It was in the items themselves, every possible scenario accounted for; dried rations, iodine pills to purify water, vouchers for shuttle tickets that would take you anywhere in the galaxy, tightly rolled stacks of genuine honest to god Earth currency to take you even further than that, no questions asked, clothes folded so tightly they looked like napkins at first. And, in an even more closely concealed pocket on the inside seam, fake documents, fake IDs, fake cards loaded up with fake creds.

And a knife. If Juno had been entertaining any doubts, any lingering threads of uncertainty, then seeing his tired reflection in that razor edge snipped them neatly away.

He sighed, long and low, filing through the emotions rising in his chest, sending away any that he knew weren’t helpful or were just offshoots of his anxiety, counting backwards from ten like Buddy had shown him until all the messiness sorted itself out.

He didn’t pick his book back up. He watched the clock and waited for his husband to come home.

Nureyev really enjoyed working at the salon. He kept waiting, expecting to get bored or frustrated with it all, but it hadn’t happened yet. He just laughed at the conversations with his colleagues more and more, got more familiar with the smell of hairspray on his clothes and felt a small spark of pride at the ache in his ankles at the end of a long day.

It was enough to make him feel something approaching hope.

He slid off his shoes, not wanting to track any dust from outside into the apartment. Living on Mars had meant needing to get used to the fine red silt clinging to his soles every day and turning up in the most inconvenient places, no matter how careful he tried to be. Juno, the Aurinkos and Rita barely even seemed to notice it. Nureyev assumed that came from growing up with the stuff.

The apartment was surprisingly quiet, enough that he was already getting ideas before he walked into the living room and saw his wife sitting on the sofa.

“What exactly have you done with our children, my love?” he grinned, “Bought us some alone time?”

Juno started a little at his voice, even though he should have heard him come in, the door closing, his keys rattling into the bowl. And when his eye lifted and met Nureyev’s, it was immediately clear that his ideas had been far off the mark.

“Yeah, Rita has them,” Juno’s voice was even, not full of scowls and snarls as usual, not in any way a ‘we’re in serious trouble’ voice but Nureyev’s veins still flooded with adrenaline as he rooted to the spot, a discordant clashing in his ears, “I did want to have some time with just you and me.”

“And yet you’re still dressed?” Nureyev was a little impressed with himself, how his tone came out still perfectly light and joking, like he wasn’t completely gripped by panic and his brain wasn’t scribbling blue prints behind his eyes.

It would seem hairdressing hadn’t lost him all of his skills.

“Babe, listen,” Juno sat forward, eye gentle, “Just come and sit with me, okay? Nothing’s wrong, nothing bad has happened or anything like that. I just want to talk.”

Nureyev frowned. Maybe he had lost his skills a little. Or maybe they’d just never worked on Juno.

But he did sit, stiffly, still braced for something awful in spite of his wife’s reassurance. And when Juno wordlessly produced one of his getaway bags and set it on the coffee table between them, he was ready to run.

But Juno didn’t let the moment build, he didn’t keep him hanging. He simply sighed and reached across the gap between them to take his hand.

“Peter, I’m sorry.”

“What?” Nureyev looked up, certain he must have misheard.

But Juno’s expression was firmly set in penance, mouth turned down, brow fallen across his eye which was soft and sad, “I never once asked you if you were struggling to adjust to the way our lives are now. I never thought to check in with you. I let you down in that and I’m sorry.”

“I...what?” Nureyev was well aware he was falling short of his usual articulation but no more words were coming in to fill the blank gap in his mind, “You’re not...you’re not upset with me?”

Juno frowned a little, shaking his head, “No. No, why would I be?”

“Because…” Laughter, of all things, raw edged and disbelieving bubbled up in his chest, “Because the only thing to take from this is that I’m insane or I was going to leave you?”

“Are either of those things why you’ve got these bags?” Juno asked evenly.

Nureyev winced, “You found the others?”

“No but I know you enough to assume.”

Nureyev took a shaky breath, “I’m not leaving you. And...and I don’t know whether I’m insane or not, honestly.”

The sadness in Juno's eye deepened and he squeezed his husband’s hand, “I don’t think you are but we need to talk about this. What exactly were you trying to prepare for with these?”

“I...I don’t know…” Nureyev didn’t like this one bit, this reversal of their usual roles, Juno being so calm and collected and even while he sat here struggling to leash his emotions, “Nothing! I...I wasn’t…”

Juno exhaled, something cracking through his calm, “Don’t do that. Nureyev, please, don’t shut me out. That’s the one thing I need you not to do right now.”

Nureyev felt his throat close and he couldn’t have said anything if his life depended on it. He didn’t want to shut his wife out, he really didn’t, but it was so hard to unlearn something that had been your first line of defence since childhood.

But if there was anyone who understood that, it was Juno.

“Listen, Nureyev, there’s no answer you can give me that will make me angry with you or upset me. I just want you to feel safe here with me and with the kids and...finding this, it’s just made me worry that you don’t?”

Nureyev forced his lungs to pull in air and turn it into words, determined to not be the man who had shut Juno out for years, the man who had packed those bags.

“I do feel safe here, I am happy here,” he promised, feeling the truth of it and drawing strength from that, “It’s just been so long since I stayed in one place, since...since I could feel safe. And sometimes it feels like another cover I’m wearing for a little while, like something’s going to change and I’ll have to run again. And I guess I just wanted to prepare for that, even if it isn’t what I want. Even if I’m praying it never happens, I just can’t let myself be unprepared. It’s not how I was raised. And having those bags...I can breathe a little easier. I can settle into this more because even if the absolute worst thing happens, I’ll survive.”

Juno nodded slowly, eye never leaving his husband’s face, “Nureyev, we both knew this was going to be a change. And change is hard, even if it’s for the better. And if this helps you settle down, I’m fine with that.”

“But I’m not,” Nureyev croaked, wanting to wipe his eyes so the tears there didn’t fall but also not wanting to let go of Juno’s hand, “I don’t want to live my life like it’s not mine. This isn’t a cover, it’s my family and my home and I want to feel like that.”

Juno squeezed his fingers, “This is yours, Nureyev. I’m your wife and they’re our kids and this is our home. No one is taking any of this from us, I promise. And if you need me to remind you of that, I will, every single damn day for the rest of our lives if that's what you need. And it fucking sucks that everything you’ve lived up until now is telling you different.”

“Yeah,” Nureyev mumbled, the tears falling and dripping off his nose now but they hit Juno’s hands before his own and he didn’t flinch, “It does.”

“Come here…” Juno murmured, pulling him close, wrapping his arms around him as their bodies fit themselves together, “You can cry, it’s okay.”

Nureyev did. Because he believed Juno when he told him it was.

They spent the rest of their rare evening alone pulling out all of the getaway bags Nureyev had stowed over the first week of their retirement from the Carte Blanche, all of the stockpiles of food as well, everything he’d hidden underneath their new life with Mag’s voice and the voice of a hungry child guiding his hands. They didn’t get rid of it, he wasn’t ready for that yet, but it went into a box under their bed instead.

And Juno still told him he was proud of him.

Nureyev thought there was always going to be that part of him that had Mag’s rules in it’s mind and a constant hunger in its belly. All he could ever do was fold it up as small as he could make it and find space for it in the back of his brain.

But with Juno’s arm around him and red dust on the soles of his shoes, that felt easier than it ever had before.

#jupeter #tpp #the penumbra podcast #post canon #angst #hurt/comfort #angst prompts #juno steel #peter nureyev

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badfey · 4 years

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is there anything u wish u had known pre-top surgery? I’m trying to schedule mine next yr and I’m worried I rushed into picking my surgeon even tho I looked at a Lot. I’ve got a list of questions to ask but curious if there’s anything you can think of! Thanks, if u get a chance to reply 🥺

firstly congrats and good luck with your top surgery, i hope the wait goes quickly!!

There were a lot of things i wasn’t expecting about top surgery - not necessarily that i wish i’d known in advance, just that i didn’t anticipate. I wrote a document of them not long after surgery which ill post soon and link back to here :) right now ill go through the main stuff i wish i had known, and any questions i had (under a cut because it got long)

Stuff I Wish I’d Known

Some of this depends on how your surgeon does things. I had 6 days before my post-op appointment w chest reveal.

That first week is tough. Ymmv, but for me it was really hard. I knew that post-op depression was a thing, i didn’t realise what it would feel like. For me it was a lot of being tired and not being able to sleep because of not being able to get comfortable (having to sleep elevated for a few days & pain), so getting more tired and bored but too fatigued to do anything in that classic frustrating cycle. Once i slept decently for the first time i felt human again (nytol is a lifesaver). It’s also tough bc ur sweaty n uncomfortable and u haven’t showered or taken off the post-op binder for a week, and with the dressings and swelling it doesn’t feel like its really happened yet? After chest reveal thats a lot easier

Sometimes moving around you’ll feel something like pull or pop and you get so so paranoid about pulling a stitch i seriously thought id pulled a stitch but its usually like the dressings adhesion or something, you don’t need to freak out. My best friend here was this uk trans fb group because i could search and find years of posts with ppl having the same problems, or ask and ppl would give advice and calm me down, so it’s good to join a community like that ready for if you inevitably get stressed about something (also good for post-op boredom)

You cant use your arms to move. Sounds obvious but like i never realised how much i reflexively rely on using arms to move sitting positions on a bed, and how you need to pay attention to override that impulse.

Peeing after anesthetic is weirdly hard. It really helps if you practise consciously releasing the specific muscles to pee beforehand

I was so hungry. I got fed sure (great food too) but i wish i had taken snacks.

Questions to ask

Im gonna list some stuff that you may already know/have on your list but it might help fill any gaps :)

When are your post-ops? Are they included in the surgery price? Mine were at 6 days (chest reveal) and 8 weeks (normally 6 weeks but my surgeon was on holiday lol) and both included in the price of surgery (which is standard for here i think). Its good to have rough timeframes in advance so you can plan around it.

Ask about revisions - are they included in the price, what is the timeframe you can get revisions for, how you would start the revision process if you need it? Hopefully you won’t need it but its important to know just in case & so you don’t need to worry about it. I think my surgeon got a bit touchy when I brought up revisions but i was just clear that if I’m getting this surgery and paying a lot of money for it i need to know this stuff in advance which as a professional he should be fine with.

Can you have a say in scar shape and/or nipple size? Usually you can, and this is often at the pre-op when they draw all over your chest before surgery. Don’t feel like you can't weigh in - this is your chest. Also even at consultation they might be able to give you an idea of what your scar/s will look like.

If you’re getting nipple grafts, ask about their graft success rate!! I was super stressed about my nipples falling off, but my surgeon said that even though stats say about 10% of nipple grafts r unsuccessful, in practise he sees a much smaller percentage than that, and even ones that do reject often grow back (lmk if u wanna know more what i mean) or can just be easily touched up with tattooing. Also if theres anything they recommend for graft success.

Does your surgeon recommend using arnica? Arnica is a homeopathic remedy for bruising, swelling, and wound healing. There’s differing views on whether it actually works, but in my case i took arnica tablets 1 week before and 2 weeks post-op and i think it really helped. They also tasted nice. Some people use arnica gel to aid healing once you can start massaging.

Where will you be for overnight recovery? Will you be on a ward or in a room? Do you have access to a TV? Do you have access to a plug socket or charging point? Do you get wifi? Chances are you’ll be bored at some point over the time you’re in there, especially if you struggle sleeping. It’s good to know whats available in advance so you can come with things to keep you entertained.

Does your surgeon use drains? You probably already know/have an idea of this bc its something a lot of ppl consider when choosing surgeons, buts its good to know if you don’t. Also, it can change - I chose my surgeon partially because he only uses overnight drains so you don’t have to deal with them in recovery. When i was there i found out he has stopped using drains altogether for smaller guys so i never actually had them (pleasant surprise).

Does your surgeon want you to wear a post-op binder? Do they supply the binder? Post-op binders r a good idea they stop swelling soo much, so even if your surgeon doesn’t recommend it i’d definitely ask if it’d be safe for you to wear one. You can't wear regular binders. If you’re sourcing your own, again trans groups r great bc they can give local recs and lots of people sell/pass on their old ones. I am happy to give anyone recs, but they’re all uk based.

How will you communicate with nurses post-op? Most people don’t live too near their top surgeon, so you’ll probably check-up remotely. I just sent nurses emails of my nips and incisions and anything i was worried about the healing of and they’d let me know if it looked okay.

If you have any conditions/disabilities/illnesses, ask if they’ve ever operated on someone with them/similar before. I have fibro + hypermobility and tbh it was reassuring to hear him talk about experiences other patients with chronic pain had had before and how they coped.

Okay sorry that was really long, but its pretty much everything i could think of question wise! I hope it helps! Let me know if there’s any other questions you have at all :)

#asks #anon #trans stuff #top surgery #top surgery advice #DI top surgery #double incision #transition advice #ok to rb #Anonymous

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thephantomofthe-internet · 4 years

Text

Read Into Me Chapter Two: The Importance of Being Earnest

Steve Harrington x Reader

Catch up on the series HERE

Word Count: 2,030

Warnings: Swearing, death illusion

Author’s Note: This chapter is a bit shorter than I’d like, but I promise that the next one is longer! Also, some of the tags aren’t working for some users, so I’m so sorry if you aren’t getting notifications for this series! If you know how to fix this lemme know!

Tags: @divinity-deos @thecaptainsgingersnap @wolfish-willow @scoopsohboi @herre-gud-nej @clockworkballerina @maddie1504 @i-am-trash-so-much-its-scary @banjino-in-the-whole @buckysarge @wildcvltre @stanleyyelnatsiii @t0rment0 @10blurredsmoke10 @unussuallchild10 @n3wtscaseofniffler5 @alwaysstressedout @peterparxour @linkispink1995 @asharpknife @a-big-ball-of-idk @used-avocado @mochminnie @sledgy14 @lilmissperfectlyimperfect

Steve was so very fucked. He’d been sat at his desk since he got home from school and could not think of a single fucking thing to write. He’d had his notebook open, his typewriter loaded with paper, pen uncapped and waiting to be used, and the most work he’d done was chew on its blue cap. He just couldn’t think.

Writing was not his thing. Reading was not his thing. School was not his thing. He had lines of trophies on his nearly empty shelf-swim meet, track and field, basketball, and baseball for one summer in fifth grade. He could understand how to play a sport. That was competitive, improvisational, and had a core outcome-you won, lost, or tied. The same three outcomes with a million ways to do it, a million variables to get in the way. Math and science were the same, he could swing Cs and Bs in those classes, but English was the opposite. There were too many opinions. Too many options. When he managed to read one of the assigned books for class and not merely the Cliff’s Notes, he found he had nothing to say about it. Everything the author said felt true, even when his teachers were telling him to look for specific things in the narrative. Sure, if someone told him that the conch shell in Lord of the Flies meant something, but if you asked him what he wouldn’t know. And he would believe you if you said that the conch shell didn’t mean anything. His essays were all crap.

He thought about calling Nancy. Nancy would know exactly how to help him, she always did. But Nancy was with Jonathan now and he wasn’t confident that they were still friends at all. If they were ever friends. He didn’t think that they were. They weren’t really friends before they dated. Still, his hand hovered over the egg shell white rotary phone on his desk, a gift from his eleventh birthday. He lifted the phone off its hook, dialling the number off by heart. It took three rings for someone to pick up.

“Eleven?” Mike Wheeler’s frantic voice came through the other end. Steve couldn’t help but roll his eyes, the boy was far too attached to that girl, it was honestly concerning.

“Nah dude it’s Steve, your sister around?” he asked, leaning back in his chair.

“She’s out with Jonathan.” Mike’s voice dropped into one of boredom. “You know, her boyfriend?” he was such a little shit sometimes.

“Yeah, I know dipshit, you wanna tell her I called when she gets back?” Steve huffed back.

“If I remember.” With that, the call went dead. Steve groaned, rolling his eyes as he slammed the receiver back onto the hook. What a fucking waste of time. He’d never hear back now, that kid didn’t like him from the start and would do whatever he could to keep them from being friends.

What was to be done now? He didn’t have anything to say about his spring break! Mr. Lawrence was a bastard for even asking him to write about it. Nothing happened! His parents went to Miami Beach to rekindle their marriage for the hundredth time and left Steve at home alone. He tried to throw a party but almost got busted by the cops with a fake ID at the Pick n’ Save and Tommy’s brother wouldn’t give them any weed to supplement what would’ve been a pretty dry party. He cancelled the party after that and sat at home alone. Nothing much to tell about and definitely wouldn’t fill a page, even if he used the longest words he knew.

Steve stood from his desk, looking through his shelf till he found the heavy yellow pages he’d put on the bottom of his shelf to weigh the sucker down so it wouldn’t fall over as fast. He flipped it open, searching through the numbers till he found what he was looking for, lifting the receiver off its hook again.

Across the street, you were sprawled out on your rose printed bedspread, your head in your hands with Samantha sat on your desk chair, laughing at your pain. “You know it’s not that bad, right? You could’ve gotten stuck with someone way worse.” She said, mindlessly digging through the black jewellery box sat dusty in the corner of your desk. Your mother had sent it from Spain and had filled it with different things she found across Europe. You didn’t care much for the stuff yourself but you kept it on your desk to show that you used it, not that she was ever home to seemed to notice.

Your bedroom was clean and stark white. It used to be pink, to match the rest of your white iron rod and pink padded furniture. You didn’t like the pink that much, and you didn’t adore the white, but you could hide it behind the art you tacked to the wall. Every portrait, still life, and landscape painting you’d been proud of hung proudly in your home gallery. You’d done recreations of your favourite album covers, and splatter art with balloons, and a few charcoal drawings of your grandparents and your father. You’d painted clouds and stars on your ceiling when you were in middle school, and while they had a lot of room for improvement, you left them above your head as a comfort to you. Your father had helped you scrape the popcorn ceiling down flat and helped paint the ceiling sky blue. It was your last project together.

“Oh yeah totally…” you said through your hands, refusing to look at her, focusing instead on the yellow sun spots floating under your eyelids.

“I mean, you could’ve gotten stuck with Tracy Lords again, she’s in that class.” Samantha replied easily, pulling out a green sea glass bangle from the top drawer, running her fingers over the red velvet interior of the box. Tracy Lords was a menace to productivity, at least she was according to Samantha. They had issues, which meant that you did too by association, but she’d done nothing to you except glare and pop her gum at you.

“At least she does her work!” you sat up, letting your feet dangle over your bed. “I don’t think he’s ever done his work on time, he’s always late with stuff!”

“That’s not your problem; as long as you do your work then Lawrence won’t care.” She flashed the bangle in front of your face “You should wear this more it’s nice.”

You shrugged “You can have it if you want.” You didn’t really care about what your mother sent you, it didn’t change the fact that she didn’t care enough about you to be home for more than a month out of the year. Besides, where on earth were you supposed to wear any of it? Your mother loved to spend your father’s riches on random, useless crap and you hated the idea of showing off the money your father died for. It wasn’t anything to brag about.

“Nah, not my style, it won’t match any of my stuff.” She put the bracelet back, closing the box with a metallic thump. “But anyway, you’ll be fine. Steve’s completely harmless.” You weren’t exactly sure if you believed her.

The phone on your desk blared loudly. You begrudgingly jumped off the bed, pulling it off the hook. Your grandmother was still at the hair salon and if you didn’t answer, one of her little friends from the old folk’s home might think that she died again.

“Hello?” you asked, motioning for Samantha to move over a bit, closing your white curtains closed again, your eyes scanning the streets with a bored expression.

“Hey is this Y/N?” Steve asked cautiously. He couldn’t quite remember your voice but he had double checked your last name in the year book and the phone book.

“Yeah, who is this?” dread filled your stomach the second he spoke, you were hoping against hope that it wasn’t Steve. You could see him pacing his window from across the street.

“Hey it’s Steve from English?” Fucking hell. You wanted to slam the damn receiver onto its hook. But if you did that, Samantha would think that you were crazy and you didn’t want to seem like such a baby.

“Oh hey what’s up?” you asked cautiously. Samantha was pulling at your sleeve, mouthing ‘Who is it?’ at you. You pulled your arm away, pushing her chair away from you with your foot.

“Oh nothing much, I was just wondering how your paper’s going?” Steve didn’t really know why he called you, he wasn’t certain that you’d even help him if he asked. He hardly knew you, he couldn’t name two things about you. But you seemed smart, you could be of some help if he had the balls to ask for it.

“Oh um…it’s fine. How’s yours going?” your hand came to the back of your neck, rubbing it awkwardly. You wanted to run away, to utterly disappear into another dimension. You didn’t like strangers, especially the whole small talk part. You didn’t feel like you had anything interesting to say about yourself and you hated silence. Your mind just didn’t come up with questions to ask.

Steve’s face burned. He couldn’t admit that he was stupid now; he was hoping that he wasn’t the only idiot in the class. “Oh um it��s good! I’m almost done.” He said, mentally cursing himself for saying that he was anywhere near finished.

“Oh cool. Do-do you want to switch them off tomorrow?” Now you had no idea what this phone call was even about. In the back of your mind, you assumed that he just had a question about the essay, but now you had nothing to grab onto.

“Yeah sure, that works for me.” He said, looking to his empty paper. He was so totally screwed now. He couldn’t admit that he was an idiot to you, not when you already had everything so clearly understood. You spoke so confidently, it made him feel small and pointless.

“Okay…I’ll see you in class then.” You said. Steve bid an awkward goodbye and you both hung up unsure what the hell had just happened.

Samantha was on her feet, jumping on your mattress “Did Steve Harrington just call you?!?” she cried, following it was it a giddy scream. You hushed her, rolling your eyes.

“It’s nothing to freak out about, you weirdo!” you countered, turning to face her fully with a sullen expression. Your heart was still pounding hard in your chest, adrenalin pumping through your veins.

Samantha landed on her knees, looking up at you incredulously “What? He’s cool! That’s cool! Boys never call you!”

“Way to rub that one in.” you scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest. Talking to people wasn’t your strong suit, and while for the most part you were okay with not having many friends, you lack of experience with relationships made you very insecure. “You crushed one of your spikes on my ceiling.”

Samantha reached up and touched each individual black spike with the tips of her finger, finding the dented one at the top of her head. “It’s true! God, I’ve got more guys calling me and I’m a lesbian.” She lowered her voice at the mention of her sexuality. You both knew that your grandparents wouldn’t be kind to her if they knew, their homophobia a mark of their small mindedness.

“Yeah, well, the guys at this school are all idiots.” You looked back to your paper, pulling your red pen out from behind your ear and crossing out a word on your essay.

“You didn’t think Jonathan Byers was an idiot.” Samantha replied. You cheeks flashed cherry red. It wasn’t fair of her to even mention him. He was a dickhead and Samantha knew it.

“Yeah, well now I know that he’s just as big of an idiot as everyone else is.” You muttered, pulling your desk chair over and taking a seat once again. You didn’t have the time for stupid boys, anyways. You had work to do.

196 notes · View notes

440mxs-wife · 4 years

Text

Test Results, Part 3

Pairing: Castiel x Reader

You awoke to find a pair of ocean blue eyes gazing in your direction. You smiled in return at the handsome face of Castiel, your boyfriend of five years. It had been almost a year since his grace was stolen from him, turning him into a human. Even though he lost his grace, it did nothing to diminish your feelings for Castiel. You were more than happy to share your heart and your bed with the one you love, whether he was an angel or a human.

"Good morning, Honeybee," he said in his husky morning voice.

"Good morning, my angel," you returned. You reached up with your left hand to caress his cheek. Castiel closed his eyes as he leaned into your touch then he kissed your palm. He rose up on his left elbow, while the back of his right hand gently grazed your face.

"So beautiful...." he whispered, just before he swiftly captured your lips with his in a fiery, passionate kiss. You felt the depth of his love behind it, along with a hunger you had not known before from Cas. Your fingers threaded their way through his raven black hair, massaging with your fingertips, earning a groan of appreciation from Cas.

You tilted your head back to expose your graceful neck to him. Cas dropped a trail of soft kisses across your neck, while he took nips at the skin here and there. One of those nibbles turned into more of a love bite at that sweet spot where your neck meets your collarbone. You gasped at the sensation, knowing he'd left a mark for all to see.

"Marking your territory, my love?" you teased.

"I merely want the world to know that you are mine, sweetheart," he grinned. "I love you."

"And I am yours, Castiel. Now and forever, yours and only yours," you replied. "I love you, too. Shall we wander into the kitchen to make some breakfast?" you asked.

"Hmm. I think I'd rather stay right here," Cas said huskily. "I can't wait for breakfast to be made, I'm too hungry now," he growled playfully and pulled the covers over both of you. Then he took you down the path of sweet discovery, giving and taking pleasure in each other.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A couple of months later, you were in the laundry room and had just finished moving clothes from the washing machine to the dryer. Suddenly, you felt the urge to run to the bathroom, where you proceeded to lose your breakfast. Castiel heard you getting sick, and once he found you, he rubbed your back and held your hair out of the way.

"Are you all right, Honeybee? Can I get you anything?" he asked in a worried tone.

"I'm fine, Cas. I think it was just something I ate. Let me get cleaned up, wash my face and brush my teeth. Then we can maybe watch a movie?" you suggested.

Cas drew you into his arms and kissed your forehead. "As you wish, sweetheart. I'll get you a washcloth to clean up, then I'll meet you in the living room," he promised. You nodded and gave him a lingering kiss on the cheek, which brought out his megawatt smile.

As you were patting your face dry, you started to wonder what could have caused you to get sick like that. It wasn't flu season, and you didn't think it was food poisoning. Wait a minute...., you thought as you did the math in your head. Oh no. You gripped the edges of the sink and checked your reflection in the mirror. What am I going to do? you wondered.

You slowly walked out to the living room area to where Castiel was sitting on the couch. He watched as you carefully sat next to him and leaned your head on his shoulder. He put an arm around you, drawing you close and kissed your forehead. "Is everything okay? You seem like you are still not feeling well," Cas remarked.

"Just a little tired I guess," you replied. As the movie played on, you found yourself less and less interested. Your thoughts kept drifting back to earlier when you were washing your face.

Cas noticed that your full attention wasn't on the movie. He paused it, which caused you to look up at his intense blue eyes. "I may not be able to read your mind anymore, but I have a feeling that there is something occupying your thoughts," he remarked.

You hesitated before answering. "Do you ever think about children? Having them, I mean?" you asked timidly.

This time it was Castiel's turn to hesitate. "Not really. I mean, I love children, they're a gift from my Father. But as an angel, if I were to have a child with a human, for example, it wouldn't be well-received. A nephilim has great power, and there are those who would not treat it kindly or want to kill it. I couldn't take that chance with the child or its mother. Why do you ask?" he finished.

"Only curious, Cas. Don't get me wrong, I love being together with you, just the two of us. But, I also have thoughts about being a mother as well," you added.

"Honeybee, you would make a wonderful mother, if and when that time comes," Cas assured you. He pulled you onto his lap so you were straddling him. Your arms went around his neck, to pull him closer to you. Your lips crashed together in a series of hot, fervent kisses, trying to leave no territory untouched.

Cas rested his head on the back of the couch, granting you access to his neck. You worked your way across to his collarbone, taking playful nibbles at his skin along the way. When you reached his sweet spot, you turned the nibble into a love bite, leaving your mark. You pulled back a little to see his lust-blown pupils, which fueled your desire.

Suddenly, Cas flipped you around so you were on your back on the couch. He inched up on the hem of your T-shirt, little by little, dropping sweet kisses on your lower torso. Your hands tangled in his hair, lost in the feel of his lips on your exposed skin. "Sweetheart," he murmured against your stomach. "Come fly with me," he whispered. You nodded and followed him to your room, where you continued what had begun in the living room. Good thing you remembered to lock the door.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A week had passed, and your bouts of nausea had not improved. You quietly made a doctor's appointment so that you would know once and for all if you were pregnant or not. You slipped out of bed early in the morning without waking Cas. You left a love note for him to see when he first woke up.

At the doctor's office, they drew a sample of your blood and sent it to the lab for testing. About an hour later, the results were confirmed. Pregnant. You thanked the doctor, then sort of stumbled your way out of his office and out to your car. As you sat behind the wheel, contemplating your next move, your phone rang. Caller ID said it was Sam, so you picked up.

Sam asked where you were, and he told you that you needed to get back to the bunker right away. He said that it had to do with Cas, so you said you'd be there as soon as you could. You hung up your phone and quickly headed for the highway to home. When you got there, you demanded to know where Cas was.

"He's gone," Dean replied.

"Gone?!? What do you mean gone??" you cried.

"His grace was found and an angel returned it to him, so he's back to being an angel now," Sam explained.

"The 'courier' angel said that Cas was urgently needed in Heaven to help settle the civil war going on up there. They didn't know how long he'd be gone, either. Cas tried desperately to get the angel to wait until he could say goodbye to you, but they wouldn't," Dean said. "Where were you, anyway?" he asked.

"I-I was at the doctor's office. My nausea wasn't getting any better, so I made an appointment. At least I know what's causing it, though," you answered.

"Well, what is it?" Sam asked.

"I'm pregnant," you whispered. "And Castiel is the father." You looked from Sam to Dean and back again, then burst into tears. Both men rushed to your side and engulfed you in a hug. They each whispered soothing words in your ear, telling you everything would be fine. They promised to be with you every step of the way.

Although you appreciated their kindness, the one you wanted by your side through all of this was currently unavailable. You didn't get to say goodbye to him before he went back to Heaven. He didn't even know that he was going to be a father.

You broke out of their hug a bit to face them. "You guys can't tell Cas. He's got too much going on up there, and he needs to focus. I don't want to give him anything more to worry about or have as a distraction. Please?"

Sam and Dean looked at each other in silent communication. "You have to tell him. At some point anyway," Sam gently pleaded.

"Yeah, pretty soon, you're not going to be able to hide that, no matter how big of a hoodie you wear," Dean chimed in. You shot him a dirty look, which effectively silenced any further comment from him about your body.

"Well, I won't be hunting anymore, that's for sure. I'll hang back here and do the research for you guys, which should keep me out of trouble," you reasoned.

"What should we do if we need to call Cas for help, and he asks where you are?" Sam wondered.

"You'll just have to tell him....I don't know, something. Say that I'm not feeling well, or I went to visit a sick friend, something like that. Unless you think I should go to Donna's or Jody's until the baby is born?" you asked.

"We'll just have to play it by ear for now. In the meantime, can we get you anything? Pickles and ice cream?" Dean teased.

"How about some egg rolls from my favorite place in town?" you asked hopefully.

"You got it, sweetheart. I'll go and get that, then some more beer too. For me and Sam, though. Be back in a little while," Dean said as he kissed your forehead.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A month or so later, you had your first sonogram. Sam went with you, and thus he got to hear the baby's heartbeat for the first time. You both had tears in your eyes at hearing the heartbeat from this miracle of life, growing and developing inside you. When the lab tech left the room so you could get changed back into your regular clothes, Sam turned to you.

"Thank you so much. It was a privilege to be here for that. Even though I know you'd rather have had Cas here, I'm honored that you chose to share that with me," Sam declared.

"You're welcome, Sam. You're right, I do wish he was here, but I had one of my best friends by my side. Thank you for agreeing to do this with me," you replied.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The next month wasn't quite so easy. Sam and Dean were on multiple hunts, sometimes back-to-back, so you had to go to your next doctor's appointment alone. You were kept busy with the research the boys needed, so that made time pass quickly.

Dean said that they had to call Cas in on a couple of cases, both for the extra manpower and for his healing capabilities. He said that Cas asked about you, and was genuinely disappointed that you hadn't come with them.

The civil war in Heaven was still going on, but Cas felt confident that it would be wrapped up soon. Cas asked the boys to tell you that he still loves you and can't wait to be with you again. Sam and Dean passed along the message and reminded you that you were going to have to tell Cas soon that he is going to be a father.

A couple of weeks later, you were in your chair, reading a book you had chosen from the library. Suddenly, you heard a whoosh of wings, and your beloved Castiel appeared. He wandered through the bunker, scanning for you. When his eyes locked onto yours, he ran towards you, reaching your position in three long strides. He cupped your face in both hands and drew you in for a long passion-filled kiss.

"Oh, Honeybee, how I have missed you. I couldn't stand to be away from you for one more minute. I love you so much," he gushed. "Is someone else here with you? I am detecting two heartbeats," he questioned. He looked down and saw that something about you had changed while he was gone. "Are you....is that....a baby?" he managed to ask.

You nodded, unable to speak at the moment. "I'm almost five months along now, Castiel. I'm so sorry that I wasn't here to say goodbye when you went back--" he cut you off.

"Whose baby is that?" he demanded.

"What?? Whose do you think it is?? Do you seriously not trust me to stay faithful to you, after everything we've been through?" you exclaimed.

He took a step closer to you, anger showing in his face. "Who is the father? Sam? Dean? Someone else?" he growled.

You looked him straight in the eye and said, "YOU are. This is your child. I got pregnant before you got your grace back, so this is a human baby not a nephilim. I can't believe this," you sobbed as you ran to your room.

Sam and Dean came down the spiral staircase in time to see you run off to your room in tears. They saw Cas sitting on the couch, his head in his hands. "Why didn't she tell me?" he wondered.

"Cas, buddy, she didn't find out for sure until the day you left to go back to Heaven," Dean explained. "She was at the doctor's office that day, getting a blood test for confirmation," he said.

"So, you and Sam have known? All this time? And didn't think to tell me?" Cas asked.

"I asked them not to," you replied. You walked over to the couch and sat down, but decided to keep your distance for the time being. "Cas, you were involved in a civil war up in Heaven. I knew you had a duty to fulfill. If I had told you that I was expecting your child, you wouldn't have been able to concentrate. You would have been too worried about me, which could have caused you to be distracted, then you could have been killed! I couldn't live with myself if that happened."

"You still should have found a way to tell me," Cas muttered. He swiftly rose from the couch. "I-I need to go somewhere and figure out what I'm going to do about all of this," he remarked.

"Cas, please don't go, you just got here! We can work this out together, just like we always have! I love you," you pleaded.

"I'm sorry," he replied and with a fluttering of wings, he was gone.

You sank onto the couch, too stunned to speak at first. Tears silently streamed down your cheeks as you realized that you may have just lost the love of your life, forever. In that moment, your heart broke a little more with the knowledge that your child may not get a chance to know its father. "Oh, Cas. I'm so sorry that I didn't tell you. I don't want to raise our child alone. I love you so much. Please come home," you whispered.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Another month went by, and still no word from Castiel. You prayed to him every night, begging him to come home, but he never appeared. Finally, one night, you made one of the hardest decisions of your life. You stopped praying to Cas, because you had decided to let him go. You would raise your child without him, and hope that wherever he is, he's happy.

Castiel was wandering around the hallways in Heaven. To the other angels, he looked like a shadow of his former self. He had a near-full beard, his clothes needed washing and he could benefit from a long, hot shower. The other angels steered clear of Cas, rather than risk his wrath at the slightest mistake.

Gabriel knew that Cas wasn't himself, and it was because he was heartbroken over you. The light was gone from Cas' eyes, and Gabriel knew only you could put it back. He asked Cas what had happened with the two of you. Cas explained about your last meeting and finding out about the baby. He assured Gabriel that it was conceived during the time he was human, so no nephilim to worry about.

"So, why aren't you down there with her right now, taking care of her?" Gabe asked.

"She withheld important information from me! She knew about the baby on the day I got back here to Heaven, and by the time I found out, she was almost five months along. Sam and Dean knew the whole time but didn't tell me, because she told them not to," he retorted.

"And why do you think she did that?" Gabriel wondered.

"She said....it was because I was up here, trying to stop the civil war. She thought that knowing about the baby would be a distraction, that I would worry too much," Cas replied.

"Would she have been right? If so, then she made her decision to withhold the information out of her love for you. She couldn't bear to have something happen to you if you were too worried about her and the baby on Earth," Gabriel explained. "Question is, do you still love her?" he asked.

A dawn of understanding came over Castiel and a smile crept across his face. "Of course I do! I love her with all of my heart. She's carrying my child, and I want to be there for the both of them," Cas declared.

"Good answer! I hereby discharge you from your heavenly duties to be with your true love and your child," Gabriel replied. Just then, they both felt a rumbling, and lights flickered for a few moments.

"What happened?" Cas asked.

"Uh oh. You'd better get cleaned up fast, my brother. That rumbling you felt? That's what happens when your soulmate lets you go," he explained sadly.

Cas hung his head. "She's been praying to me ever since I left, but I was too busy being hurt, that I didn't go to her," he remarked. "Time for that is over now. I have things to do," Cas said with a determined look on his face.

"Go get her, Castiel. Go get your soulmate back," Gabriel said softly.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Okay, I think I've got everything. I'll only be gone at Ruthie's for a few days, for the baby shower and hanging out with her. If you guys need anything, though, just call me and I'll come back," you said.

"Will you get going?" Dean chuckled. "This is your first real vacation since who knows when. You deserve this, so go have fun. Hope you get lots of cool baby stuff at the shower. Don't worry, Sam and I will be fine, we can do our own research," Dean assured you.

Sam put your bags in the trunk of your 1968 Chevy Nova. You climbed into the driver's seat as best you could, given your current condition. "I'll call you when I get there. See you in a few days," you promised. Sam and Dean each leaned in through the window and kissed your forehead, then waved as you drove away.

When Sam and Dean returned from the garage, they saw Castiel standing by the map table. They exchanged glances between them and kept walking to the kitchen, not saying a word to Cas.

"Where is she? I need to see her," Cas pleaded.

Sam and Dean both ignored Cas for the moment, too focused on fixing themselves a snack and getting something to drink. "I know you both can hear me. Please, I need to know where she is. We have unfinished business between us," Cas remarked.

Dean was the first to speak. "You should've taken care of that a month ago," he seethed. "Do you know what it's been like for her ever since you left? She prayed to you every night, Cas, crying and begging you to come back. Every night. But you never came."

Dean continued. "Sam and I nearly had to force her to eat, so that she kept her strength up for herself and the baby. We went to her doctor's appointments with her. All stuff you should have been doing, had you been here. So, excuse us if we don't feel like telling you right now where she is. You've hurt her enough," Dean retorted.

"I realize that I didn't handle the situation very well when I first found out. And you're right, I should have worked this out with her long ago. I'm here now, though, and I need your help. One thing I have to know, though," he gulped. "Does she still love me?" Cas asked in a small voice.

Sam and Dean looked at each other in silent communication. "Of course she does, Cas. You know she's not one to hold a grudge. But, you have to know, she's been hurt pretty deep. It's going to take something huge on your part to win back her heart," Sam explained.

Cas reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, black velvet box. "I found this at a place that sells vintage jewelry. Do you think she will like it?" Cas asked.

The boys examined the contents. They both gave a low whistle in appreciation. "Cas, that's beautiful. Does this mean what I think it means?" Dean asked.

Cas grinned and nodded his head. "Will you help me? Please. I need her back in my life. I'm lost without her, and I want my child to know who his father is," he pleaded.

After a few agonizing seconds of exchanged glances, Sam and Dean nodded to signal that they were on board. "Okay, here's what we do," Dean grinned and rubbed his hands together conspiratorially.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Boys? I'm home! Can someone give me a hand with my bags?" you shouted but were greeted with silence. "You know, they can help me take them out to the car, but bringing them back in? Must be too much to ask," you grumbled aloud. "Guys? Where are you and why aren't the lights on?" you asked.

At that moment, the main part of the bunker was awash in twinkling fairy lights. Rose petals were strewn about on every flat surface. You heard soft music playing in the background as you slowly descended the stairs, leaving your bags for later.

You picked up a few rose petals and brought them to your nose to inhale their scent. As you put them down, the voice that you had been longing to hear for the past month broke the silence.

"Hello, Honeybee," Castiel said softly.

"Cas?" you whispered. "Is it really you? Where have you been?" you asked, your voice thick with emotion.

"It really is me, and I've been....hiding up in Heaven, I guess you'd say. I had some things to sort out in my head, things about us, and the baby. But by the time I finished doing that, I thought I'd been gone too long to come back. That maybe you wouldn't want me anymore."

Cas continued. "Sweetheart, I am so sorry for all the hurt I caused you by not coming home to you sooner. I hope you can find it in your heart to someday forgive me. I want us to be together, a family with you, me and the baby. I am lost without you, and I want our son to know his father. I love you with all of my heart," Cas finished.

As Castiel was giving his speech, he was slowly walking towards you, until he was standing directly in front of you. He could see the tracks of your tears, which he wiped away with his thumb. You closed your eyes and leaned into his touch, having missed it for so long.

"Cas....I've missed you so much. I prayed to you every night, but you never came. I thought that you didn't love me anymore, so I thought my only option was to let you go. I did that so that you would have a chance at happiness, even if it was with someone else," you explained.

"Honeybee, the only woman who has and will ever make me happy is you. In fact," he knelt down on one knee and withdrew the velvet box from his trench coat. "I have loved you from the moment I met you. You are kind, generous, funny and smart. Your outer beauty is only surpassed by your inner beauty. I can only hope to make you as happy as you have made me by being in my life. Will you marry me?" Cas asked.

He opened the box to reveal a simple yet gorgeous vintage engagement ring. Overcome by emotion and unable to speak for a few moments, you nodded your acceptance. "Yes! Yes, of course I will marry you! I love you, Castiel," you replied.

Cas took you in his arms and embraced you as carefully as he could, given the stage of your pregnancy. "Oh!" you felt a flutter in your belly that can only be described as your baby kicking. You placed Cas' hand on your stomach, just in time for the baby to kick again. A soft look of wonder crossed his face as a tear slipped down. "He knows who his daddy is, Cas," you explained.

He leaned down and kissed your belly. "Hello, little one. I'm your daddy. And even though we haven't met yet, I already know that I love you and would do anything for you." He turned to you with love shining in his eyes. "Thank you. You are my everything and I love you so much," he finished.

"I love you too, Castiel. Welcome home, my angel," you replied softly.

#castiel #castiel x reader #spn imagines #spn fluff

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jewish-privilege · 5 years

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...This was the last day of the year for the class of 2018 at Glenelg High School. There was going to be an awards ceremony, a picnic, that end-of-a-journey feeling that always made [principal David Burton] so proud of his job. But as he was on his way to work at 6:25 a.m., the assistant principal had called, agitated and yelling about graffiti...

...Beneath his dress shoes, there were more swastikas. Spray painted around them were crude drawings of penises.

Then Burton saw the letters “KKK.” He saw the word “Fuck” again and again next to the words “Jews,” “Fags,” “Nigs” and “Burton.”

He kept walking, following the graffiti around the building’s perimeter. It was on the sidewalks, the trash cans, the loading dock, the stadium around back. There were more than 100 markings in total, though he didn’t bother to count.

He turned a corner and saw something written in large capital letters on the sidewalk: “BURTON IS A NIGGER.”

...A quarter of all hate crimes reported to the FBI, more than any other category, are similar to the attack discovered at Glenelg on May 24, 2018. Vandalism and destruction of property, a physical marking of an age-old threat: You don’t belong here.

...In one of those homes, 72-year-old Susan Sands-Joseph was watching. She knew Glenelg well. She was one of the first black students to attend the school after desegregation. Suddenly, all the memories that she tried not to dwell on were dredged up again: the words she was called, the tomatoes thrown at her head, the looks her parents gave her when she came home saying scalding hot soup had been pushed into her lap again. “It’s okay,” she had promised them. “I’m fine.”

...Panicked, [Seth Taylor, one of the vandals,] started Googling:

“How long do you go to jail for vandalism?”

And then: “Can you get a hate crime for painting swastikas?”

...He had already begun to separate what he’d done from who he believed himself to be. He hadn’t intended to hurt anyone, he said. He would always maintain he wasn’t an anti-Semite, a homophobe or a racist.

...At 11:35 p.m. on May 23, the students’ IDs began auto-connecting to the WiFi. It took only a few clicks to find out exactly who was beneath those T-shirt masks.

“You have the right to remain silent,” an officer said to Seth before long. “Anything you say or do . . . ”

They told him to remove his graduation cap and gown. They cuffed his arms behind his back.

Seth realized they were about to march him outside, past the windows of the cafeteria. By now it would be filled with students eating lunch.

“Can you cover my face so that the kids don’t videotape me?” he asked.

“No,” an officer replied. “You deserve this.”

...Most are unaware of the history that came before Columbia [a planned community founded on the principles of integration and inclusion in Howard County]. ... An estimated 2,800 people were enslaved in the county at the beginning of the Civil War. A century later, when the Supreme Court ruled in Brown v. Board of Education in 1954 that schools must be desegregated, Howard County was so resistant that it took more than a decade for the black-only school, Harriet Tubman, to close its doors. The opposition to black students learning alongside white ones was so fierce, a cross was burned. It happened outside a school dance at Glenelg High School.

...Among black families like [Tyler Hebron’s], there were doubts that the white teens would face the kind of punishment black teens receive for similar crimes. Two years earlier, a group of students had painted swastikas on a historic black schoolhouse in Northern Virginia. A Loudoun County judge sentenced them not to jail time or community service, but to reading: along with visiting the Holocaust museum, each had to choose a single book about Nazi Germany or the Jim Crow era and write a report on it.

...Two of [the vandals] had tried to have the hate-crime charges dismissed. Their attorneys claimed that their First Amendment rights were being violated. They could be punished for the vandalism, the argument went, but not for what they wrote.

It didn’t work.

Now, it was [Judge William V. Tucker’s] job to answer a question the community had been debating for nearly a year: What consequences did these young men, now 19, deserve?

...Seth said he just wanted all of them to understand: He is not a racist.

Later, he would explain himself this way: “I never really understood the symbol of the swastika. I knew it was wrong to plaster it somewhere. I didn’t learn exactly what [the Nazis] were doing to the Jews until I went to the Holocaust Museum. I never learned that they were mutilated. I knew that they were, like, burned. But I never learned that they had experiments done on them, were injected with diseases. The school didn’t include that. They just included the burning and the train cars.”

His understanding of the KKK was limited, too, he said. “Some people think it’s just a word, or a symbol or three letters put together. . . . But they were lynching people, hurting people for no good reason.”

...“I spray paint one racist thing and, suddenly, I become a racist? Just because I did it doesn’t mean I hate Jews, gay people or black people.”

He was standing before the judge, pleading guilty to a hate crime, but he would not admit that he harbored any hate.

...Behind her, Principal Burton was listening. He’d heard Joshua Shaffer’s attorney give a similar speech. When Matthew Lipp was sentenced, he would hear it then too. Tyler Curtiss had written it in a Facebook apology the day after the crime...

They all believed it was possible to do what they did without really meaning it.

Burton wanted to look them in the eye and say: “You did something very racist. How you don’t think you’re a racist, I don’t know.”

...He believed what possessed them to draw those words and symbols that night wasn’t a lack of knowledge, but something deeper, something ugly, something taught to them, consciously or unconsciously, along the way. If they couldn’t admit that now, maybe they never would. But it wasn’t his responsibility to educate them any more.

When it was Burton’s turn to speak at Seth’s sentencing, he didn’t say the word “racism.” He talked about all the people the crime had affected — the teachers crying in his office, the parents who pulled their kids out of his school, his daughter in tears, and for just a few moments, himself: “I know I give up my time, my effort, I give up my life for my students,” he said. “I think the only thing I am asking in return is just a little bit of respect.”

...[Burton] had to focus [this year] on his 1,200 current students: the LGBTQ kids who still felt isolated. The Jewish girl who told the local paper she still wishes she could transfer. Whoever was still scrawling swastikas on the bathroom stalls.

In the past year, he’d created a task force of diverse students to work on the school’s climate. Soon every freshman would go through an empathy workshop. And nearly 40 of his employees had spent the year meeting to discuss the book “Waking Up White,” a memoir of a white woman who comes to understand that racism is a system that she had been shaped by and contributed to her entire life without even realizing it. Maybe, he thought, that lesson would get passed on to Glenelg’s students...

[Read Jessica Contrera’s full piece at The Washington Post]

#anti black racism #antisemitism #homophobia #uncensored slurs #n word #white supremacy

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chidoroki · 4 years

Text

TPN ch180

(spoilers! i'm so broken)

I didn't want to be right. I didn't want to actually believe that Emma was lying. If anything, I thought she was just lying about staying with her family when they crossed over to the human world, knowing she would be separated, but this.. oh my god. This girl knew ever since ch143 that she was going to lose her memories of her family and straight up lied to them about it. Granted, only a few days passed from when she returned from The 7 Walls up until they all crossed over to the human world, but still, I.. don't know how to feel. I knew since the prison break she had great acting skills so I'm impressed that she managed to pull off yet another wonderful performance, but wow.. I really hoped she wouldn't! To keep such an important and life changing secret from her family, who are all so important to her, I can't imagine how hard it must have been for her knowing this while dealing with the entire capital attack and GF plantation raid. Fighting so hard and succeeding in achieving a bright, happier future for everyone but herself.. ow, my heart.

Some people are fine with the memory loss, others aren't. If anything, at least she's the only one who forgot? I think it would've been worse if everyone else forgot about Emma instead, so having the promise only hurt her is fine.. well, it's not, clearly, but you get what I mean.

And if demon god wasn't on my nerves enough already, the little prat decides to basically photoshop every family member out of the photos Emma kept this entire time. I'm touched she still had the photos in her possession, but now this upsets me so much. Upon seeing the first set of raws and learning Emma lost her memories, I hoped that she could possibly remember them by looking back at these photos if she still had them. But no. Demon god doesn't want me to be happy or get my hopes up. It would've been such a cool idea though. We know Ray originally requested the camera because he needed to strobe for the taser, but he continued to take pictures, not only to keep up the act to prevent Isabella from getting suspicious, but to give said photos to Emma because he knew how important their family is to her. I would've loved it if something so important from the first couple arcs came back at the very end to help Emma regain her memories.

Not only that, but demon god also got rid of her id number? Like.. really? I don't know why that bothers me so much but it does. I know the id brands just proved that the kids were meant to be nothing but food. Of course I know that they're all so much more than that and I should be happy Emma lost hers, because it truly means she's free, but the number was a part of her you know? It would've been fine if every cattle child lost their identifier, but since it was only her it makes me think demon god wanted it to be that much harder for Emma to remember her past and family. That's what bothers me. That even now, after they all crossed over and don't have to deal with demons anymore, demon god still has the audacity ability to make Emma suffer. If she still had her number, I'm sure she would've questioned it, much like Ray did when he was younger (my mind thinks back to ch28, that one memory of him looking at his neck in a mirror). Maybe she would've realized that the people in her dreams also have the same neck numbers, if only faintly. (it must be so weird for Demizu to draw Emma now and not include her number after all this time)

That leads me to wonder if Emma has questioned the rest of her appearance yet. I would assume she's still missing her left ear, since her hair is still covering that side, so does she ever wonder about why it's missing? What about the scars on her body? We personally haven't seen them, but you can't tell me her back and abdomen looks perfect and clean after getting stabbed by Lewis. Yes I know, scars heal with time, but the scar on Lucas' face was still recognizable after 13 years. Same with Zack and his many unfading scars. So does Emma question where hers came from?

Moving on, a month passes and still no memories, however Musica's necklace seems to be the cause of Emma's vivid dreams, like it somehow brings life to her feelings. We see the necklace constantly, not only because Emma wears it, but on volume covers and other color pages as well. It's always been shown off as this important item and yet it hasn't really served a purpose yet. Emma recieved the necklace back in ch51 and the only thing its done so far was show her that one old vision at Cuvitidala in ch101. It'll be a real easy way to solve everything by having the necklace just conveniently bring back her memories, so I get why some people might not like the idea, but at this point I'd be fine with it.

Figures she would end up in the human world with someone who can sympathize with her pain. Old dude lost his family due to war but at least he can remember them. He asks if Emma would want to see her family, if they're alive, and she remains unsure and lost. She doesn't know who these dream people are to her, why they call out "Emma" or why it makes her feel better.

This panel.. this one right here is what breaks me. Our girl is so upset and she can't even understand why. We know why you're crying hun, it's because you miss your family. Your memories may have faded but your feelings for them still live on with you! I have no doubt that love you just as much too! My poor girl, someone send me her location so I can go and hug her!

Emma might have given up trying to remember who she was and live a new life, but if she did encounter her family again, I hope she would be excited to meet them as new people. Maybe they could all start over. Over time they could gently remind her of her past, and if Emma truly can't remember, I hope they'll accept her regardless.

And a name change? I'm.. mmm frustrated. Yeah it makes sense since she couldn't remember hers and would need a new one anyway, but aahh, really? No id identifier, no memories, no name; it's like she's a new character. I was never a fan of the amnesia trope, like she's such a great character and gets built up wonderfully, and now it's like you reset her to zero. Yeah I know, deep down she's still the happy go lucky girl we all know and love, who's strong and capable to still smile even now, but.. man, idk anymore. This whole chapter hurts me.

There's a dim light at the end of the tunnel because we get a glimpse of Ray, Gilda and.. at first I thought it was Don but that person is way too short, so Phil? Regardless, I gotta give them some credit. It may have been a couple months, (remember, old dude said he could't call for help until spring and there's flowers in the ground now) but they've already managed to find where she might be in this new, large world. Please, turn around though! She's so close to you guys, she's right there! Notice her antenna or something, I beg you!

Demon god said that even if Emma met her family, she wouldn't remember them, but I still have small hopes. Emma claim's she stopped having the dreams and given up trying to remember her past, but maybe that short amount of time believing in them was enough. Aside from the necklace which connected her feelings to her unconscious mind, the five sense can also recall memories. Perhaps if she heard her name now, outside of a dream, something in her mind will click. Maybe she would get that warm feeling again she once longed for. Sense of smell and taste are usually most effective in bringing back memories so maybe just being near them or having them cook for her could also help. I know the sense of touch usually works for when you personally touch something, but if it's possible to also recall memories by being touched, then please, for the love of god, let Ray pat Emma's head again! He's done it countless time over the years.. can you imagine if upon meeting and learning that she has no memories, Ray is just like "no worries, you're still the same Emma to us," and while he pats her head, she's like wait hold up, major deja vu, I feel like I felt something like that happened before. I'm probably only getting my hopes up real high with that idea (since old dude just patted her head and nothing) but bro.. I would honestly cry if something so simple and nostalgic as a head pat helps Emma remember her family even the tiniest bit.

And yes, I'm worried Norman isn't around. Please don't let me be right again by having him stay behind due to his health issues. Just let him be in another search group somewhere else okay? I'll accept that. It's odd he wouldn't be working alongside Ray but whatever, split your best minds up to create equally powerful teams, that's fine. It only worries me because now we might not get one last full-score trio hug like I originally hoped! I swear having a hug like that as the very last panel of the series would've been perfectly fine with me after everything that just happened. But now.. aahhh, we'll see.

I can't believe the series ends next week. There's still so much I want to see and know. I pray there's a happy ending for everyone. I want Emma with her family. I want her to remember them. I want one last full-score trio hug. Shirai, don't let us down! You played with my feelings so much within the past year, so please make all the stress and tears worth it! Give me an ending that will satisfy me so much that TPN replaces Black Lagoon as my favorite series! Go ahead, I dare you! Ya see that beautiful panel? Give that to us and not have it be a fantasy! (pretty please??)

#the promised neverland #tpn emma #tpn manga #emma #chidoroki used chatter

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