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transmascissues · 7 months

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some thoughts about top surgery recovery, as of 3 days post-op:

when they say using your chest muscles sucks afterward, i never realized exactly how much was going to be be limited. coughing, sneezing, hiccuping, laughing — all of it is terrifying right now. even talking for too long starts to put that kind of stress on my chest, and my voice isn’t as strong as it usually is. it takes me forever to fully empty my bladder when i’m on the toilet because i’m totally relying on gravity to do all the work (and shitting was effectively impossible without a stool softener even though i haven’t taken the pain meds they said i would need them for)…and don’t even get me started on figuring out how to wipe (hint: back to front while sitting, using my dominant hand to push my non-dominant hand far back enough). using the computer is also harder — i was planning on playing lots of baldur’s gate after, but for the first couple days i could only really go for a few minutes before using my arms that way got too tiring. having a mastectomy pillow has been an absolute godsend when i’m using my phone because i can prop my arms up on it and not really have to use any muscles at all to hold them up.

the biggest piece of not being able to use my chest muscles right now, which i’m writing separately because it’s been such a huge thing for me, is that i cannot sit up or back by myself at fucking all. like, if i sit on the couch and lean back a bit to sit against the cushion, it hurts to pull myself back up to fully straight — and if i’m leaning back any more than that, i just can’t do it at all and i’m stuck there unless my boyfriend puts their hands behind me and pushes my dead weight back up. i totally get why some people sleep in a recliner now because i’m completely at the mercy of having someone there to help move me around once i’m at any sort of angle. sitting back is mostly the same as far as what i can do, and arguably hurts worse to attempt at all, but my ability to do it seems to be coming back faster than my ability to sit up. if you’ve never had your mobility limited to that extent before, prepare yourself: the first time you’re stuck somewhere and the person who normally helps you doesn’t answer immediately can be really fucking scary (i learned that the hard way).

the anesthesiologist warned me that i might have a sore throat after surgery from being intubated, but i was not prepared for what “sore throat” ended up meaning for me. you know that feeling of swallowing something that’s too big and you can still feel it in your throat even after it’s down? it’s like that times 20, and further down in my throat. the worst pain i’ve felt in the last three days wasn’t from the surgery itself, it was from trying to swallow pancakes when my throat was at it’s worst. today is the first day it’s even started to fade, and even now, it hurts just to swallow my own spit. i don’t know about you, but that’s not what comes to mind when someone tells me “you might have a sore throat”.

on that note, the incisions themselves have really been the least painful part in general, probably because the nerves there aren’t reconnected yet. the vast majority of my pain and discomfort at this point has been from the drains and bandages — the drain sites getting sore or just randomly starting to sting, waking up feeling suffocated by the ace bandages, etc. it’s not because anything is wrong with them — the drains weren’t placed wrong and the bandages aren’t too tight, they’re just a huge pain in the ass to deal with 24/7. i can’t express how much i’m looking forward to getting the drains out and being able to take binder breaks because it’ll make things so much more comfortable.

my incisions are connected in the middle because my chest tissue was all really close together, and the part where the incisions connect is really the only part where i’ve felt any pain so far. i suspect it’s because the swelling on either side is making that part of the incision push together and press against itself, and then the binder pushes on it even more. it’s not a severe pain at all, but i do sometimes lift the center of the bandage off my chest for a second to give that spot a bit of a break.

i’ve already started getting some of the weird sensations associated with nerves reconnecting, and it definitely is wild. so far, it’s been mostly tingly feelings, sometimes like chills and sometimes more like a limb falling asleep. (weird observation: taking a shit makes my ribs tingle? i’ve got no good explanation for that one.) i’ve gotten a zap on one side and some buzzing feelings too. it’s pretty mild right now, probably because it’s so early on.

i’ve also gotten what i would describe as phantom boob feelings, especially on the first night. specifically, when i close my eyes, sometimes i’ll feel like someone is touching or jiggling the boobs i don’t have anymore. definitely not a super pleasant experience, but i think being out of it from the anesthesia still really helped me not be too upset by the worst of it. i’ve gotten a couple little phantom nipple touches too, but those were just split second blips of sensation that were far less bothersome in comparison.

i never realized that the classic post-op hunch is caused more by the binder than by the body itself, but we had to take all of my bandages off the night after my surgery to send pictures of something to my surgeon, and i was shocked by how much straighter i could sit with everything off. i was definitely still hunched, but it was more like a natural slouch and less like i looked like i was using an invisible walker. with the binder on, it’s super uncomfortable for me to try to stand straight at all because it feels like the ace bandage doesn’t come with my body and just drags everything down, and i’m always holding my mastectomy pillow or my hands to my chest while i walk around to stop it from feeling like gravity is going make the bandage tear my chest open.

every so often, when things are getting especially painful or uncomfortable or just generally difficult, i do start to wonder if i made the right choice. not because i regret getting rid of those things — not by a long shot — but because it’s a fucking hard process to go through. this is probably the hardest thing for me to admit, but the rational part of my mind knows it’s natural to feel that way once in a while. all of this is temporary and the relief from dysphoria will be permanent, but right now? this is my entire world and it doesn’t feel particularly temporary and i do have moments of “why do i have to go through all this when other people get to just have the right body from the start? why couldn’t i just live with what i had? why can’t i just be living my normal life right now?” no matter how sure you are of your choice, no matter how proud you are of being trans, this shit is hard and it’s okay to feel that.

i’m going to put the pictures of my chest one day post-op under the cut, because i think it’s pretty rare to see pictures from that soon after the surgery. they’re not gorey at all — the actual incisions are totally covered by steri strips and everything around them is clean — but still, if you don’t want to see relatively fresh surgery results, don’t look under the cut.

for all the discomfort and pain and limitations and other weirdness of recovery, every time i look at these pictures it reminds me of exactly why i’m doing all of this, and i’m so glad i kept fighting for this for so long. some people might never understand why someone would choose to go through this whole process, but i know it’ll be worth it in the end.

here’s my chest one day post-op! i think it looks super good and my surgeon said it looks like it’s healing perfectly (as much as it can be healing at one day). for reference, my chest was a DDD/F before surgery. i know this isn’t how my chest will look in the end, but i’m already thrilled with how things are turning out! i’ve truly never been more confident in my choice of surgeon — like, come on! look at that! she did so good!

#top surgery adventures #<- gonna start putting all the posts about my top surgery in that tag #top surgery #trans man #transmasc

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bigfatbimbo · 13 days

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this sounds kinda fucked but like how would vox be toxic in a relationship?? who do you think would be like the worst character to be with in hazbin?

this sounds like a bummer of a request but i ask because you talk about how much you like character analysis posts, and you have a clear love for terrible people (same!)

AHHHHHH I GET TO TALK ABOUT EVIL PEOPLE!!

So let me just say that I feel like, of late, I haven’t given that much attention to how terrible of a person Vox is… But the thing is, no one wants to hear about how they would be mistreated in a relationship. I mean, I fear a lot of my posts seem delusion-ally out of character for this, but also it’s tumblr and as long as I continue have a firm grasp on what that character is actually like, mischaracterization can be excused for the sake of joy and whimsy. (However I can justify ANYTHING that I was written and tell you why they would **to an extent** do that. Actually that sounds really fun someone test me on that—)

Vox definitely gets the worst of ‘mischaracterization for the sake of joy and whimsy’ so here’s a small reality check! Don’t enjoy <3 **NOT PROOFREAD**

Constant surveillance of your every move. This meaning every question you google, all the television you watch, every stranger you smile at, he would keep track of it all.

Anything you do wrong, under his creepy surveillance, would be used against you during arguments.

No, even if you two are official, he does not stop fucking Val, and no, if asked, he will not stop.

He will lie to you if he feels he needs to, and will absolutely never feel bad about it no matter how big of a lie it is.

The worst of this definitely comes when you two are fighting and you call him out for something he 100% did.

He’s great at painting himself out in a good light, and when you’re fighting he does this by lying, and if that doesn’t work, hypnosis.

Yeah, he does that a lot too. If you’re not in the mood to fuck, now you are. If you’re hanging out with your friends tonight instead of him, no you’re not. I hope you all have blue light glasses!

Also, if all of his manipulation tactics fail to work on you, he just gets mad and really personal in all of his insults. It’s easy for him to do so when he’s studied you on his screen for so long.

Hope you’re not overly insecure too, he’ll take advantage of that to get what he wants from you.

Speaking of taking advantage of, if you’re famous or special or interesting in any particular way, he will 100% use you for press.

Also, he’s from the 1950s, no matter how modern he tries to be, a part of this mindset will always stay with him.

Meaning that he will obnoxiously try to be the manly one in the relationship, no matter your gender.

You will be feminized in his mind, at least for a good start of the relationship.

This also stems from his fragile ego, and seeing as he is the personification of toxic masculinity!

This is a dom reader blog, obviously, but even after fucking this kind of mindset out of him, these tendencies would stop, BUT be replaced by equally as terrible ones.

For example, especially if he’s the sub, he would just expect you to do things for him, to stick your neck out, to take care and dote on him.

If you’re not giving him enough attention as well, your internet will go out, your lights will flicker, and no electronics in your house will work.

This will stay the case until you are forced to ask him for help.

But you wanted to be in charge anyways, so why should this behavior be reciprocated?

I’ve talked about this in past posts, I can’t find it at this very moment but I go into detail more, but what does love look like for Vox?

He would probably either be shockingly indifferent towards you, until he falls in ‘love.’

Then, he will be terribly obsessed with you. Because the closest thing he can feel to actually love is devoted obsession.

Yes, it can last as long as love, but it isn’t.

Because, and let me say this loudly, a healthy relationship with Vox, or any of the Vees, is not possible. You can be close, but it is not and never will be possible!

Okay, so your second question, “who do you think would be like the worst character to be with in hazbin?”

Top three and in this order:

Any of the Vees

2. Alastor

3. Adam or Lute

I’m probably forgetting someone, but it’s alright. Top three remains the same.

And you know, you will never catch me defending any of those people. Because I feel like in this fandom there is some crazy internalized theme of being ‘morally correct’ when liking a character.

You can find a character entertaining or interesting, no matter how awful they are. It’s television, characters are supposed to be interesting. Liking their screen time, or finding them attractive, has virtually NOTHING to do with your moral compass.

SORRY FOR THE RANT AT THE END— This is going to flop so hard. ☝️😁

Lucifer content and Adam content coming out soon, BY THE WAY!! Just trying to answer the more question-y asks before putting out actual content. Also i’m bored with no real motivation so

#hazbin hotel x reader #vox x reader #dom reader #bimbo rambling #hazbin hotel vox

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moamidzyism · 5 months

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awkward (c.yj)

summary. you let your best friend see your body, and now it's awkward

wc. 5251

genre. angst

tags. minors DNI!! yeonjun x fem!reader, college!au, best friends to lovers to ???, mentions of sex and alcohol, suggestive,

a/n. repost; if you're from my other account, you would know this is just a compilation of all three parts of awkward, though i edited it again.

more of my work

of all the friends you have at college, you’ve known yeonjun the longest. your mothers grew up together and were those best friends that dreamed of raising their kids together. you saw each other through snotty noses and scraped knees in elementary school and through first heartbreaks and senior prom dates. he was even the one who convinced your parents to let you move from your small suburban town to the big city for college.

tonight, you’re sitting on the couch in one of his friend’s apartment, nursing another red solo cup, watching him suck the face off of some random girl.

you feel a pit in your stomach.

anyone would think that because you had known each other for so long, seen each other at your absolute worst, there would be no way your relationship would ever cross that platonic-romantic line. but as you watched yeonjun become the confident man that he was today, the image of that bratty little kid who always tried to get you into trouble faded away, and you just couldn’t help but develop these weird feelings about your best friend.

there have been many times where you have actually brought up the idea of you guys getting together. jokingly, of course. because lord knows that you would never seriously tell him how much you wanted his soft lips against yours. especially not after he laughs whenever you bring it up.

so now, you just watch him, as he leaves you in a corner at the house parties he drags you along to, flight with other people.

you chug the remainder of the drink in your hand, wincing at the warm taste. you hate the taste of beer but it’s the only thing they have at these stupid parties. you get up a little too fast, and the wind almost knocks you back down. you didn't think you were that drunk, but then again this was your third drink in the last hour.

you walk over to the kitchen and tap the black haired boy on the shoulder. he moans against her lips, not even acknowledging the fact that you were right next to him. you feel the blood rush up to your cheeks as you tap him again. this time, the girl pulls away from him. “can i help you?” she asks.

you don’t even look at her, just at your best friend, who looked annoyed at the fact that you just interrupted him. his arm was still wrapped around her waist.

“jun, i want to go home.” he looked between the two of you, hesitant in his response.

“right now?”

“yeah, i’m kind of tired.” you looked at the rest of the party. “i don’t really want to be here right now.”

“do you want me to call you a car?” he ran his fingers through his hair. are you really trying to cockblock him right now?

“i think i’m going to throw up.” you lied.

“fuck,” he mumbled, “seriously?” you slowly nodded in response. “okay, shit,” he turned to the girl, his arm still around her waist. “i’ve gotta go.”

“you’re seriously leaving me right now?”

“i need to take her home.” his voice sounded sad. “but, uh… i’ll see you around?” it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself that he would ever speak to this girl again. she pushed him away from her and walked out of the kitchen.

his arm supports your back as he walks you to your apartment. his friend’s place was already small, but the fact that it was packed like a can of sardines made you feel a little claustrophobic. the night air definitely sobered you up. but you still feel a little woozy as you make your way into your apartment. yeonjun carefully walks you over to your room and lays you on the bed.

“do you want to stay the night?” you ask him in a small voice.

“no,” he is already halfway to the bedroom door now. “i have to work in the morning.”

“i’m sorry.”

“for what?” he walks back to your bed.

“for making you leave early.”

“it’s all good. you should go to bed though.”

“can you please stay?” you ask again, a little more desperately this time.

“i’ll see you later, y/n.” he bends down to kiss your forehead. “good night.”

it was the last day of finals and you and yeonjun were celebrating together in his apartment. “i can’t believe we’re finally done. this semester was rough.” he was double majoring in music business and dance and he had a lot of final projects to complete in those last few weeks of school and this was the first time you had seen each other since last month. “how should we celebrate?” he asks you with a smile on his face. you missed him.

“i think,” you begin, an evil grin appearing on your face. “we should play truth or truth.”

“that’s not a real game.” he interjects.

“yes, it is. and we are going to play it, but every time you do a truth, you have to take a shot of this.” you pull out a bottle of fireball from your bag.

“that sounds like a recipe for disaster.”

“true.” you shrug. “but c’mon. it will be fun.”

and he agrees.

you are both three rounds into the game now and your throat is already starting to burn. the questions started out easy and light but now your head is starting to feel a little fuzzy and the air is starting to get a little tense. you sit cross-legged on the couch opposite yeonjun, the bottle of fireball between your two bodies. maybe it was the way he was looking at you or the fact that you had been drinking knowing that the last meal you ate was a nutella sandwich before your last exam five hours ago. whatever it was, it was making your stomach do flips.

“it’s your turn now.” you giggle.

“ok… when was the last time you made out with anyone?” he asks you.

fuck. why did he have to ask you that? you were a little embarrassed that it had been a minute since you had been remotely intimate with anyone. “i don’t know…” your voice trails off sheepishly, you try to hide your face with one of the cushions on the couch.

“what do you mean “you don’t know?”” he is surprised. he always had friends asking him to set them up with you. “what about that guy from that party we went to?”

“what guy at what party?”

“the one guy who you were talking to all night. i thought you guys hooked up.”

“well, we didn’t.” you pour your shot and immediately drink it. “can we move on? please?”

“well, would you make out with me?”

“it’s my turn to ask the question, yeonjun.” you feel the blood rush up to your face.

“okay, but would you?” he moves the bottle to the coffee table, and inches closer to you. he was right; this game was a recipe for disaster.

“i can’t believe you had sex with yeonjun.”

“yell it out for the whole world to know.” it is a week later and you are having lunch with one of your friends. you told her what happened with yeonjun and she cheered, gleefully, saying that she was happy it finally happened. it seemed like all your other friends had an ongoing bet about your relationship with your best friend, and she just made twenty dollars.

“so are you guys finally together now?” she leans forward, her palms supporting her chin, invested in your love life.

“god, no.” you sigh. “i haven’t talked to him since then. i actually left when he went to the bathroom and he’s been texting me but i don’t know what to say.”

“you left when he was in the bathroom?” she exclaims, causing you to groan.

“i made things so awkward now. i don’t even know what to do.”

“so you’re ghosting him? and i thought he was the fuckboy.”

“i’m not ghosting him. i just don’t know what to say to him.”

“so you’re ignoring his text. y/n, that is literally the textbook definition of ghosting.”

“what do you want me to say to him? “i’m sorry i’ve been ignoring you after i snuck out of your place after we fucked?” and through text? i sound like such a fucking asshole.” a woman passing with her child glares at you. you groan again.

“you kind of are an asshole, y/n.” her phone vibrates on the table and she looks at it, a smile forming on her face. “looks like you don’t have to say that through text?”

“what?”

“yeonjun is throwing a party to mark the end of the school year. his friend just invited me and you’re my plus one.”

“he didn’t tell me about that.”

“well, how do you expect him to tell you that when you’re ghosting him?”

“i’m not ghosting him!” you try to defend yourself. “and i don’t think i’m going to go. what if he doesn’t want to see me?”

“if he didn’t want to see you, i would not have been invited. and besides, i don’t want to go by myself.”

with one final groan, you put your head against the cold diner table.

you and your friend arrive at the party and thank goodness, you hadn’t seen yeonjun yet. she promised that she would stay by your side all night and you’re very grateful that so far she has kept her promise. the two of you walk into the kitchen.

you’re making small talk with some mutual friends when someone comes in and asks if you know where yeonjun is. right then, he comes into the kitchen laughing with his friend. his smile drops when he sees you. you wave at him, with a small smile. he turns the other way to answer the person who asked if he wants to play beer pong.

“well, that was embarrassing.” you say to your friend, trying to push your tears back.

“y/n we can leave if you want to.” she tells you, rubbing my arm.

“no it’s fine. i’m fine. besides, we just got here and you promised me we would have fun.”

“okay, but if you want to leave, let me know.”

you couldn’t even try to have fun that evening because you spent the entire party trying to avoid yeonjun. when he was in the living room, you were in the kitchen. when he was in the kitchen, you were on the balcony. when you were sure he was on the balcony, you escaped to the bathroom.

this is so ridiculous. you think, staring at your face in the mirror. you sit on the toilet scrolling through your phone until you hear faint voices outside the door.

“did you know y/n was going to be here?” you could recognize that voice anywhere.

“no, but she’s always at these things. aren’t you guys best friends?”

“uh… yeah, i mean.” you can hear him groan. “something happened and she ghosted me and now she’s at my fucking party.”

why does everyone think i ghosted him?

“what is “something”?”

“if i tell you this, you have to promise not to tell anyone.”

“damn, did you guys fuck or something?” there is a pregnant pause on the other end of this conversation. “fuck!”

“and she fucking ghosts me. complete fucking radio silence for a whole fucking week and then she shows up at my place again.”

“maybe she’s just scared. i mean, your relationship changed overnight.”

“then send an emoji or something. don’t just ghost your best friend.” he stops for a second, sighing. “and, our relationship wasn’t supposed to change. we know each other. we don’t judge each other.”

“do you regret it?”

“regret having sex with y/n? no. i just wish we were still friends now.”

me too.

you clear your throat and take a look in the mirror. he’s still outside the door but it is starting to dawn on you that camping out in his bathroom all night is neither sustainable nor serious. also, why are you trying to avoid him? it’s better to talk it out once and for all than have him hate you forever. you walk out of the bathroom and see him standing there with his friend. when they hear the door click, they both turn to look at you and his friend makes a face at him. yeonjun grimaces back and they begin walking back to the living room to join the rest of the party.

fuck, okay maybe that’s why you were avoiding him?

your heart is racing now and something in the back of your mind is telling you to just walk back into the bathroom and save yourself from further embarrassment that evening. but then you remember that this is your best friend. he couldn’t really be that mad at you, could he?

“hey, yeonjun.” you call after him and he turns around with a groan. “can we talk, please?” his friend pats his back in encouragement and yeonjun walks towards you.

“now you want to talk to me?” he spits at you.

you feel a chill down your spine at his tone. only he could make you feel so small with such a simple comment. “i was never ignoring you.” you reply. your voice is quieter and more strained than you wanted it to be. you clear your throat and repeat yourself.

he laughs at your attempt to gain confidence. “really, because i was this close to sending a carrier pigeon to your house to get you to talk to me.”

“i’ve just been busy.”

“busy?” he raises his eyebrows in disbelief, his voice dripping in sarcasm.

“yeah, i was busy. i have a life, you know?” you cringe internally at how defensive you sounded. why are you getting so riled up?

“you don’t have to try and convince me. i believe you.” you are standing against the bathroom door and he is still at the end of the hallway. silence fills the gap between the two of you, until he clears his throat and begins to speak again. “so, what did you want to talk about?”

“seriously?” you scoff. “there’s a massive elephant in the room, jun.”

“i mean, what exactly do you want to say y/n?” he looks behind him to the rest of the party. you feel like you were wasting his time.

“i wanted to say i’m sorry for leaving, but–” you begin but you couldn’t get far because he chuckles. “is something funny?” you ask.

“you know when people apologize, like give a sincere apology, there are usually no buts.”

you run your hands through your hair in frustration. you’re trying to clear the air and he’s interrupting you. seriously? “i am apologizing, but–”

“you’re doing it again.” he smirk. he always did enjoy getting you flustered.

“it was awkward.” you blurt out, not giving him a chance to interrupt you again.

“not to me,” he says under his breath, quiet enough for you to almost miss it. but you don’t.

“c’mon jun, we’re friends.” you reply, plainly.

“you and i both know that we aren’t just friends.” he moves closer to you and your breath hitches in your throat.

“yes, we are,” your voice cracks. “ you’re my best friend.” you’re lying through your teeth, trying harder to convince yourself that your feelings for him were made up and he most definitely did not reciprocate them.

“so, why did you leave?” he asks, arms crossed, completely unmoved by the fact that you were about to burst into tears.

“because,” you push back your tears. “because, we’re friends and friends don’t fuck. but we did and i felt so awkward. i made it awkward.” you’d humiliated yourself in front of him too many times in the past week and you were determined to not cry in front of him and have him pity you.

“now what?” he asks, his arms folded in front of his chest.

“what?” you look up at his face, really examining his eyes. the eyes that looked at you fondly and made your stomach do flips were gone.

“you left my house right after we had sex and then you ignored me for a week. you show up to my party uninvited with your “apology” so what now? what do you want from me?” he never raises his voice at you, but he can still manage to make you feel stupid and small.

“i want us to go back to normal.”

“you want us to go back to normal?” he chuckles, not so much in a mean way but more in a confused way. like you just told him that the sky is actually green and grass is blue.

“is that so much to ask for?”

“y/n, you left.”

“but i’m here now.” your voice cracks again.

“and that’s supposed to mean something.”

“yes, yeonjun. it means that i’m here and i’m trying. i want us to be friends again, okay?” you plead. “i’m sorry for leaving and i’m sorry for ghosting you after but i’m here now. i’m trying.”

he sighs and massages his forehead before looking at you. he’s never had a great poker face, but right now his face is blank and you can’t read him at all. “i don’t think we can be friends anymore. not the way we used to.”

“we can try, please.”

“no, we can’t. you were right. it’s awkward now. you made it awkward now.” he starts leaving but turns around. “you shouldn’t have come.” and with that he disappears back into the party.

you sit on the floor for a minute before you feel your phone vibrate in your back pocket.

where did you go????

you look at the time. it had been almost thirty minutes since you told your friend that you needed to go to the bathroom.

im by the bathroom can we leave now

you took a week to mourn the end of your longest friendship and then you spent the rest of the summer pretending that you had accepted it and distracted yourself with work. you didn’t see a lot of people over break because many of your friends were actually yeonjun’s friends and he got them in the quasi custody battle. now you weren’t getting invites to all the parties you once did, you had to find a distraction in being a straight-a student.

you’re working on a homework assignment when your parents call, asking what your plans for the holidays are.

“i’ve just been really busy, mom.” you tell her when she asks why they haven’t seen you in months. the truth is, you knew yeonjun was going home for summer break and as much as you tried to convince yourself that you were completely over everything that happened between the two of you, you really weren’t. and the last thing you wanted to do was see him everyday for two months.

“you always say that honey.” you roll your eyes at your mom’s passive aggressive comment. “but we will see you in a few weeks, right?”

“you will?” you rack your brain to see if you forgot whether or not you invited your parents to come visit you at your university or something.

“it’s winter break honey.” you had been stuck in a routine of going to work, going to class, and doing your homework in your room. you had completely forgotten that the semester was coming to an end and you couldn’t avoid going home anymore.

“oh, right.” you reply before your mom proceeds to drone on about the annual dinner your family has with your neighbors, which you absentmindedly listen to. “i don’t think i will be able to make that.”

“what? why not? we do it every year!”

she gives you half a second to come up with an excuse. you couldn’t just outright tell her that you didn’t want to see yeonjun and that’s why you haven’t come home since last winter and why you did not want to come home. because that would just be absurd. “i probably have to work on christmas eve. i’m not sure i can make it back home.” not very effective but you’re internally praying to the universe that she believes you and doesn’t push it any further.

but, alas, the universe has not been on your side lately.

“it’s the holidays! i’m sure you can call out.”

“mom, i still have a lot of work to do for school so i still might not make it even if i can get out of work.”

“honey, you know we have this christmas eve dinner every year. and your dad and i have already started planning this year. you can’t say you just can’t make it.”

you sigh. she’s so annoying when she’s trying to persuade you. “i know mom but it’s just that i hate being the youngest person at these things. it’s so boring for me.”

“that won’t be a problem this year. you won’t be the youngest because a new family moved in over the summer, i think in june. they have kids around your age.” she perks up. “and yeonjun is going to be there too.”

“oh, right.” as if you could forget about that.

“we were wondering why you didn’t come home because he was home for a month over the summer.” your mom broke you away from your train of thought.

“i had to work mom.” you respond, dryly. since you told her that you weren’t coming home at the end of last summer. she’s been bringing it up everytime she talks to you. “and i still have to work so i’ll let you know if i can come home for the dinner.”

“oh, you’re coming home.”

“i’ll see, mom.” you’re trying to quickly get off the phone. “i have a lot of homework to catch up on so i’ll call you later. love you! bye!” you hang up.

you know she’s right and you are going to go home.

from being your mother’s daughter you have learnt two fundamental truths: the salad fork goes on the outside of a plate setting and you need to learn how to lie. you have been at your childhood home since nine in the morning, trailing behind your mom as she prepares for the annual dinner. she made you stay with her the entire day, save for the two hours she allowed you to get ready before the guests arrived. even afterwards, she stayed by your side, forcing you to mingle with guests.

right now, you are in the kitchen with your mom as she gives you a quick rundown on what had been going on in the neighborhood since the last time you were there. other than your family and yeonjun’s, there was a new family at this dinner. according to your mom, they had moved in over the summer and they had a daughter your age who was going to the local university in your town. “it would be nice to have another friend in the neighborhood.” she says, prompting you to talk to her.

rolling your eyes at your mom, you move over to where the girl was with her little brother in the living room. before you could get to her, the front door opens and yeonjun and his mother step into the house. your mom rushes to greet her old friend, as if they didn’t see each other just the other day. you greet her too before escaping to the bathroom under the guise of freshening up before dinner actually begins. you had made plans to avoid yeonjun by any means necessary.

by the time you return downstairs and dinner actually starts, you realize once again that fate (or your mom) had other plans for you. when you get to the table, you see that the only empty seat at the table was between yeonjun and the girl your mother so desperately wanted you to be friends with.

this is just perfect.

you try not to make eye contact with him as you engage in small talk with the girl beside you. you find out that she’s a freshman at the local university and she’s majoring in english literature. you tell her about your major and your classes.

“what about you?” she speaks over you, to ask yeonjun. “do you also go to the same school?”

you turn to face him for the first time that evening. “yeah, i do.” he answers, coolly.

“are the two of you studying the same thing?”

“no.” you answer quickly, trying to keep him out of this conversation.

“i can speak for myself.” his tone shifts when he talks to you. “i’m doing a double major in music business and dance,” he replies to her.

“whatever,” you scoff.

“is there a problem, y/n?” he asks you, snarkily. the girl beside you turned away to play with the food on her plate. it seemed to her that she might have pulled a little too hard on a sensitive trigger.

“oh, you’re talking to me now?” you parrot the words he said to you that night outside his bathroom. the last time you saw him.

“i never said that i wasn’t taking you.”

“then what exactly did you say?” even though the two of you are not having the loudest conversation at the table, you are sure that the other people at the table can feel the tension rising.

“i said that i didn’t know if we could be friends the same as before.”

“so stop trying to act like everything is fine.” you say a little too loudly. the other conversations at the table stop.

“i’m not–” yeonjun begins but someone clears their throat and you both look up to see your mothers glaring at the two of you.

“maybe you two should have this conversation on your own time?” his mother suggests. you feel him shrink in his seat beside you, quietly apologizing.

after dinner, your mom drags you into your childhood bedroom. your room was adorned with discount furniture, an old bookcase you took from your grandparent’s house in high school, and lots of fairy lights.

“i don’t know what’s going on with you but your behavior tonight is completely unacceptable.” your mother scolds you. you are sitting on the edge of the bed and she is standing across from you with her hands on her hips.

“my behavior?” you respond.

“you’re being rude to your friend and the rest of my guests, arguing at the dinner table, embarrassing yourself. what is wrong with you?”

“i wasn’t arguing with anyone.” you mutter, rolling your eyes.

“so what exactly was going on then?”

“god, mom! this is like the last thing i want to talk about right now.”

“suit yourself.” she gives you one more look. “but i need you to calm down before you come back out there.” and with that she walks out of the room. you flop on the bed and groan.

how did everything turn to shit? you are so engrossed in your thoughts that you didn’t even notice that yeonjun walked into the room until he spoke. “can we talk?”

you quickly sit up on the bed, adjusting your dress, and looking at him before scoffing. “you want to talk now?”

“why are you being weird?” he is leaning against the door frame, not knowing whether or not he was welcome to walk in.

“i’m not being weird.”

“why didn’t you come home this summer?”

you look him in the eyes for what felt like five minutes. “why are you pretending like nothing happened between us?”

he takes your response as an invitation to enter your room. he moves to sit on the bed next to you. “i know that i was really mean to you the last time we saw each other but i don’t hate you and i don’t want you to hate me.” you scoff. “what?”

“i don’t think i could hate you even if i tried.” you reply, quietly. the two of you fall into a silence. you took in your room and the man sitting beside you. you two had spent many nights in this room, but tonight you both felt out of place. the fairy lights that surrounded your bed and windows highlight how aged he looks. the once comfortable silence between you two was now a gap, a liminal space. not quite what it used to be before, but not quite awkward.

“i’m–”

“i think–”

you both begin talking at the same time but stop. “you can go first,” you concede.

“i’m sorry for that night at my party.” he begins, not making eye contact with you while you are eyeing him intently. “i think i was more embarrassed than angry and i shouldn’t have talked to you like that.”

“i’m sorry too. for showing up unannounced.”

“what were you going to say?” he quickly changes the subject, feeling that the silence was threatening to return.

“i was saying, i think you were right.”

“right about what?”

“about us not being able to be friends again.”

“i didn’t say that exactly.” he reminds you.

“yeah, whatever, i know.” you roll your eyes. “but i’ve been thinking about it a lot – our friendship. and i don’t think we were ever really friends.”

“what do you mean?”

“i mean our moms are friends and they kind of shoved us together. i feel like we never got to know each other outside of growing up together.” you feel blood rush to your face when you notice how attentively he is listening to you, taking in all your words. you look down at your hands, like a child being scolded by their parents. “i guess i don’t want to go back to what our friendship was. i want to get to know you as you are now. i also had a massive crush on you.”

“wait, had? like past tense?” he jokes.

“yeah, past tense.” you lightly punch his shoulder. “i think when we moved for college, i was really insecure about our friendship, because we had no true bond, you know? i think i convinced myself that i had a crush on you, when in reality, i just knew you were slipping away from me.”

“or maybe you were swept away by my good looks and charming personality?”

“actually, i think it was the former.”

“i mean it’s just a possibility.”

“now i’m definitely sure it was the former.” you smile, thinking about how you were falling back into your old banter.

“okay, ouch.” the silence came again, but this time it was comfortable – something you hadn’t felt in a long time. “i wish you told me sooner.” he says after a while.

“why does it matter?”

“i would have never let us get to this point if i knew how you felt before. i felt us drifting apart and after you left i was really embarrassed. it was easier to blame you and push you away. i really miss you and i want us to be friends.” you look into his eyes and you can tell that he was being genuine; not just saying what you wanted to hear. “truly friends; not just childhood friends.”

"i want that too."

taglist: @boba-beom @atinyniki @dearlyjun

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#fay's works #yeonjun angst #yeonjun #yeonjun x reader #choi yeonjun #txt angst #txt x reader #tomorrow x together

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adnauseum11 · 4 months

Text

Point of Contact (John Price x Reader)

John reaches out to Kate for a favour.

850 words

CW: swearing

feedback welcome!

It is the absolute crack of dawn when Kate gets the call she’s been expecting for the last few hours. She’s up, mainlining coffee and checking her emails relentlessly when her cell vibrates across the desk.

“John?”

“Kate.”

Kate’s initial impression is that John sounds tired. Immediately she wonders if she’ll get the full story from him or have to rely on Gaz’ version.

“Gaz said you were going to have a name for me to run? What’s happened?” Her concern is unmistakable down the line.

Of course, Kyle told her what happened, but she wants to hear it from John himself. Their past squabble is sidelined immediately without discussion. John sighs and Kate can picture her friend pacing and pushing his hand through his hair in frustration.

“Her place got broken in to yesterday. Guy didn’t touch obvious jewellery, or cash, seemed to be looking for information. Not sure what type of information or to what end just yet. Dislocated his shoulder before the police picked him up so he’ll be with medical for a little bit. Could be something, could be nothing. I’m hoping we can use their detour through medical to do a little information gathering of our own.”

“You’re sure this isn’t just a B&E gone bad, John?” Kate tries to keep the skepticism out of her voice.

“Worst B&E I’ve ever seen if that’s the case. Man was empty handed after a sizable head start. Odd time of day too, right when people are getting home from work.”

“You think he meant to do more than rob her?”

“Don’t know. Scared the hell out of her at the least. But he wasn’t doing any talking and I’m no good to her arrested so I didn’t force the issue. He’s booked on B&E but he didn’t technically steal anything. He’ll get a slap on the wrist at best. Never hated being a fucking civilian more in my life.”

Kate can hear the frustration in his voice. For a man like John, used to making things happen and getting answers by any means necessary, being beholden to the laws and skills of the local police force was particularly infuriating.

“What’s the name?”

John gives her the name from the police report, spelling it out for her.

“I’ll owe you if we can get this put to rest sooner than later. I’m hoping it’s nothing and just some tweaker, her place isn’t in the best part of town but something’s just not sitting right for me. Maybe I’m seeing ghosts where there’s nothing, but I want to be sure.”

“You really should move her out of there John, either way.” Kate can’t help but prod him about it, finding it out of character for John to be lax about security.

“You think I’m unaware? I thought I was going to have to drag her out of there last night. I’m going to have to pick my moment with that topic.” John’s cranky, making Kate smile to herself.

“At least it sounds like you know what you’re up against.”

John’s huff of amusement is weak, even over the staticky line.

“This favour, would it have limitations?”

Kate switches topics easily, only half teasing. She isn’t above making her own life easier down the road, even if it temporarily complicates John’s. That give and take has been a natural part of their friendship for years.

“Cross that bridge when we get to it.” John defers, and Laswell decides to take pity on the man and let him get away with it for the moment.

“Gaz said she seemed nice. When do I get an introduction?” Kate tacitly accepts the terms of his offer, moving on to personal interest.

“After I get some answers. We’ll have dinner, my treat.” John sweetens the deal further, a peace offering for their last interaction.

“Alright, I’m going to hold you to that. It’s not every day I get the chance to meet someone who can order a Captain around in his own home.”

Kate can’t help taking a swipe at the man, Gaz’ report including just as much detail on the state of John and his woman as anything else to Kate’s delight.

“Unbelievable, fucking Gaz, listen she was not having a good time of it yesterday–“

John’s trying to explain but Kate cuts him off before he can get very far.

“Knowing you, I’m sure not. I’m also sure that after you were asked to keep it down so she could sleep, you did, you big softie. Certainly, you two left an impression on Kyle.”

Kate’s smile bleeds through the line and the corner of John’s mouth quirks up finally at her gentle teasing despite his concern over how yesterday shook out.

“Bloody hell. Don’t make me regret agreeing to dinner, Kate.” He sighs, pushing his fingers through his hair.

“I’ll update you after I do some digging John, keep your phone handy.”

"Thanks, Laswell."

John's gratitude is palpable. The knot of tension in his chest relaxes infinitesimally, and he disconnects the call and leaves the kitchen to rejoin you, still sleeping soundly in his bed.

Next Chapter

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#call of duty #fanfic #captain john price #john price x reader #john price cod #friends to lovers #john price #captain price #john price x f!reader #john price x you #john price x female reader #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic

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skirter01 · 2 years

Text

DP x DC Pilot/Engineer Danny AU

I saw this idea somewhere, but I cannot for the life of me find out who came up with it, so apologies, but if someone knows, do what you need to. But basically, it was Danny working in the aerospace department for Wayne enterprises, getting close with the Waynes etc. I dunno. But I thought about it today and *throws this at you*. It’s got my own spin to it, but yeah.

---

Tim hadn’t slept in days, Bruce could tell and the sight was unnerving. So instead of scolding his second youngest, as he normally would, he decided on a... less hypocritical approach. It was probably the safest option, because Tim looked just about ready to throw himself at a wall, or the next available person.

“What are–"

Tim startled, and shot from his desk chair in a flurry of paper and limbs. Bruce heard the shink of metal as Tim drew the batarang from some hidden place on his person, and his sons careless, sleep deprived throw was the only reason Bruce still had his right eye.

The clipped thunk of the weapon sinking into the wall behind him had Bruce arching a brow at his son. Tim was a damn good shot, not the best in the family (Jason held that title, unfortunately), but he was skilled enough not to miss a target as big as himself. That spoke volumes of how exhausted his son had to be.

“B?” Tim questioned, stumbling backwards to lean against the desk as he rubbed at his blood shot eyes. “Don’t do that Jesus.” He groaned. “I was in the middle of something.”

“My apologies”, Bruce frowned at his son. “Clearly it had all your attention.”

“It did.” Tim grumbled snippily, reaching down to pick up some of the papers he’d disturbed. “What was it you wanted again?”

“Just checking in. Alfred was concerned. You missed dinner last night, and I didn’t see you for breakfast this morning.” Bruce hastily took note of the multitude of empty coffee cups that littered the room, stained brown by the liquid residue.

“I ate.” Tim stated, then, as if on que, his stomach let out a loud keening groan. His son flushed, and wrapped his arms defensively around the offending body part. “Er...okay maybe I missed one meal.” It rumbled again, this time even more convincingly. Tim snarled at it, clearly angered by the betrayal. “Maybe two then.”

“I can see that.” Bruce chuckled, “What are you working on? Need a fresh set of eyes?”

“No.”

Bruce glanced first at the pile of papers on the desk, and then the multitude of tabs open on Tim’s browser.

His son made a face like he’d just eaten a lemon. “You’ve got better things to do.”

Bruce smiled inwardly. Like most of the manors inhabitants, (himself included), Tim hated asking for help. It was a trait that Bruce shared with all his children, as unfortunate as it was, but Tim was by far the worst. Especially, when it came down to a case.

The boy was independent incarnate. Hell, he’d singlehandedly discovered Bruce’s alter ego with nothing but a camera and a brain. It made even more sense when you considered just who he had as elder siblings. A detective and a crime lord. As much as Bruce hated it, he knew that Tim tried his absolute hardest to match up with Dick and Jason.

But Bruce liked the way Tim worked, his brain was interesting.

“I assure you, I don’t.” He replied, moving over the desk to take a peek at what exactly his elusive son was working on.

Daniel Fenton: Employee Profile, NASA

Monthly Progress Report: Daniel Fenton

FENTON, Daniel: Casper High, Report Card

Birth Certificate: Daniel James Fenton

“What, exactly are you doing?” Bruce frowned, “Tim, I thought I warned you about accessing peoples private information without a plausible reason.”

Tim sighed and drooped into his chair, “I know how this looks, but I promise I do actually have a good reason.”

“Mhmm. Get explaining.”

His son leant over the table to pick up a headshot of one Daniel Fenton. “This is Wayne Enterprises newest employee, Daniel Fenton, or Danny as he introduced himself.”

Tim cleared his throat, “About six months ago, I sent out a letter to NASA on your behalf – after we lost Jeremiah, the head engineer from the aerospace division – enquiring if they had any employee’s they would be able to loan out to us until I could organise a replacement. This is the guy they sent. I’ve got a problem with him.”

Bruce grabbed at the page, stealing it from his sons grip (It was quickly replaced by a cold cup of coffee from the dresser).

The man pictured was young, probably around Jason’s age (early twenties at the most) with shaggy raven hair, styled into a neat undercut, and bright blue eyes. A sly, lopsided grin was spread out across his face – a typical troublemaker smile if he’d ever seen one – that reminded him eerily of Dick, and a black NASA lanyard was drooped around his neck, hiding under the collar of his navy dress shirt.

He looked up at Tim, and then back down at the photo and then back at Tim. “Is your problem that you’ve got a crush on the guy?”

Tim choked on his coffee, spluttering on the dark liquid and whacking his chest to relieve the pain. The coughing fit didn’t last long, but Tim’s face had gone completely red (with embarrassment or pain was debatable) and he was heaving in heavy gulps of air.

“What?” He wheezed in disbelief, face scrunched up. “You did not just say that.”

Bruce crossed his arms, offended. “It was an honest question. He’s a well-presented young man, and you are...single, are you not?”

Tim just stared at him, uncharacteristically lost for words for once before he slapped a hand aggressively into his forehead. “No! God no, B, that’s not how bisexuality works.” He rushed, slowly getting his breath back, “Actually, well it sorts of is- wait, no, my point is that I do not have a crush on him. Fuck, ok. Yikes.”

“My apologies then.” Bruce admonished, trying and failing to hide the smile at his sons flustered words. “I didn’t mean to assume.”

Tim glowered at him. “Stop that. I’m interested in someone else, you know this.”

“Just get on with it.” Bruce smirked, gesturing to the cluttered desk. “What’s your problem with him?”

Tim huffed, “I don’t actually know, there’s so many problems, I really can’t narrow it down but he’s suspicious, I dunno...” He mumbled, picking up the progress reports Bruce had spotted earlier and running an eye over them, “He’s a model employee and I mean that seriously. The guys a genius as an engineer, knows his stuff better than most, and the guys working in the department practically worship him as a supervisor. I can see why NASA only loaned him, because seriously, there were conditions they gave. He’s a serious asset.”

“I still don’t see your point Tim.”

“I’m getting there!” His son hissed, pinching his nose as if to quell an oncoming headache. “Sorry, coffee hasn’t kicked in yet.” He apologised, “Anyway, point is, he’s too good. At, like, everything. He’s an engineer, and a pilot, and he’s been involved in practically every community project we’ve done and-and... ugh. I can’t figure it out, but there’s something about him. The way he does things, the way he acts, it’s all just...wrong.”

He gestured aggressively to the desk where he’d been working, “I’ve been trying to dig up some stuff on him, anything really, to try and figure out what it is, but so far I’ve found nothing. The dudes a total ghost! There’s nothing on him. It’s frustrating as all hell.” Tim slumped down into the chair, arms crossed and glaring at the papers. Defeated.

Bruce took a moment to process the information. Originally, he’d laughed it off, thinking Tim was generally attracted to the guy – that he could understand. But seeing how worked up his son was about it... there had to truly be something wrong.

Sure, Tim was a known workaholic, it was just how he operated, but he didn’t just obsess over random people and cases without reason.

“What do you mean by wrong?” He inquired, leaning up against the desk.

Tim waved his hands in frustration, “I don’t know! Everything! His presence, the way he does things, his stellar record. It just– I’ve had this feeling, ever since I first met him in the office that day. It’s not a good feeling but I can’t figure out what it is. I feel like there’s something I’m missing, something I’ve overlooked. It’s just strange, there’s something off about him.”

Bruce took a good look at Tim’s face then, noting the worry lines starting to crease into his forehead and the bruises beneath his eyes. This was obviously something he needed help with, and although he may not have asked for it explicitly...well, Tim’s problem with this Daniel Fenton, also just become Bruce’s problem, or alternatively Batman’s, if it came to that.

The teenager planted his face into his hands, and Bruce put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I get it.” He started, “I know the feeling, I’ve had it – still get it actually. Some people rub you the wrong way. You aren’t wrong to trust your instincts, it’s the first thing I taught you, right?”

Tim nodded into his hands, rubbing them down his face and pulling the skin unattractively downwards, showcasing the extent of his eye-bags as they contrasted against his pale skin. He really needed Tim to go outdoors for a little.

“You’re working tomorrow, right? In the office?” He questioned his sleep deprived son.

“Yeah. What about it?”

Bruce squeezed his shoulder. “Well, I was thinking I’d drop by. I heard the aerospace division was due for an inspection.”

Tim side eyed him from where he was cradling his head in his hands. “It was inspected last month.” He stated dully.

Bruce rolled his eyes at his sons bad humour, “Then I suppose it’s about time for another.”

Tim groaned and shrugged his hand off, “They’re going to hate me. So, so much.”

“Maybe.” Bruce chuckled, making his way to the door, “But that comes with the territory. See you at 10:00am.”

“Yeah. Whatever”

“Oh, and Tim,” He stopped himself just before he left the room. “Get some sleep, please. Alfred’s lost enough hair already.” He swung the door closed, although, not without hearing Tim’s last comment.

“Yeah! Raising you!”

What lovely, considerate children he had.

#dp x dc fanfic #dp x dc crossover #dc x dc #tim drake #bruce wayne #batman #Danny Phantom #danny fenton is a little shit #tim is tired and confused #bruce just wants to connect #let tim sleep

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apollyonsdarksecrets · 9 months

Text

You can call me, Sir.

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven

Summery: She’s reserved, emotionally cut off, and spiraling down a dark path; one she can’t get out of on her own. Aaron Hotchner may be her only help, but at what cost? When he shows up to her hotel room, contact in hand, she realizes it may be more than what she bargained for.

Warning: 18+ Only MDNI SMUT. Language, BDSM, Dom Aaron, emotionally detached reader, typical CM violence, childhood trauma, abusive father figure, age gap (reader 25 Aaron 40) doesn’t line up with a specific time line, use of Y/n because story is set in 3rd person for the first half then switches POV, last name for reader is Smith,

Specific chapter warnings : Failed CPS case, implied abuse with belt, clothes shopping (I tried my best to be as body neutral as possible), sugar daddy Arron, sales lady is rude towards reader, Things are getting spicy, first rules, use of pet names, reader is described as having hair long enough to sweep over one shoulder, trying on clothes, Let me know if I need to add anything!

A/N: The amount of love that has been shown for this story so far has absolutely filled my heart! I’m sorry this chapter took a minute to come out, I got married last week sooooo 😍 that slowed the process down a little. Haha 💜

*~*~*~*~*~*

9 years ago

The worst part was the way her nose stung, like a million tiny needles stabbing her all at once. But she had to breath through it, because only selfish, weak, incompetent people cried. So she forced her thoughts solely on the older woman who sat across from her, her grey hair loose around her shoulders, and the bright pink blazer she wore with matching skirt. ‘I think name is Deloris?’

Not what you would have thought when you heard the term ‘CPS worker’. She smiles at the young teen as if she was Y/n’s best friend and there isn’t a care in the world as her fountain pen taps against her yellow notepad. “You’re mother must have been a lovely woman.”

A muscle in Y/n’s jaw twitches, but she manages to return Deloris’ smile briefly. “She was.”

“So is that really the reason you have been skipping school?” Her green eyes were full of mock sympathy, and Y/n can only assume how many of these ‘troubled teen cases’ she has had to work.

“Yes ma’am.” It was the 8th anniversary of Y/n’s mother’s death. Today. She can hear her father in the other room, moving about the kitchen, pretending to not be listening through the thin walls. Y/n squeezes the pillow in her lap tighter to her churning stomach, already anticipating how the rest of the night will go.

“I’m sorry, dear. I know losing a loved one can be hard, but that doesn’t mean we can go about making things hard for the ones we still have.” Deloris tilts her head, her lips in a slightly pout as she regards Y/n, who only bites her cheek to keep quiet. She drops her chin to her chest, fanning shame with a small nod, placating the woman. “Good. I’m going to go talk with your father now, I hope you understand the severity of the situation you’ve almost caused. I expect to hear you are in school tomorrow.”

Deloris doesn’t take long in the kitchen with Y/n’s father, her pitchy laughter grating on Y/n’s ears. Her father escorts the worker to the door, his hair is combed, beard neat and he’s dressed still in his work clothes. A fitted grey collard shirt and jeans. His usual Forman outfit. At one point in Y/n’s life she can remember thinking her dad had been very handsome, but that had all been before the drinking.

“Have a good evening Miss. Deloris.” Her fathers southern accent is always laid on heavy whenever he is trying to impress someone, or to get his way. And for most of his life it worked well. Y/n wonders sometimes if that is how he had charmed her mother.

As the pine door shut, Y/n closed her eyes, taking a steadying breath before the storm. When she opens her eyes again, she’s staring at the brown tweed couch across from her, out of the corner of her eye she can see her father’s still form in the archway of the living room.

The sound of leather hissing through his denim belt loops makes her stomach drop, her breath quicken in her already tight chest. “Gone an got me in trouble huh?” He folds the worn leather over in his hands, snapping it together watching as she jumps in her seat. Her gaze remains focused on the spot Miss. Deloris had occupied, the old springs and cushioning holding her shape. “You ain’t learned trouble girl.”

Present Day

It’s almost unbearable how cold it is outside, the dark clouds over head threatened to snow on the busy sidewalk as you shove your hands as far into your jacket as they will go. Aaron is pressed against your side, his arm wrapped around your back, directing you through the crowd and to the front of a large store.

Chic’s End

Your nose scrunches slightly at the different mannequins in the brightly lit windows who’s clothing is on the higher end of fashion. Pieces you’d never find in your own wardrobe. Aaron guides you towards the door but you stop abruptly shaking your head. “Hotch, aren’t there places a little less… fancy?” Your tone gives away your discomfort as you scan the nearly empty store.

Aaron sighs, stepping around you so he can look you in the eye. “Rule number one: call me Aaron when it’s just the two of us, Hotch is too formal. Now I’m sure there are, but you deserve to be a little spoiled…” He pauses, his phone vibrating in his pocket making him frown. “Now go inside, let me check this and I’ll be right in.” As he fishes for his phone he pulls open the door for you, letting you walk in with a small head rush.

‘Our first rule?’

You take the moment you have some to look around the store front, a few customers are mingling about the rows of clothing, associates putting away inventory or helping their guests. A brunette is standing at the register, her hair sprayed and pinned into a tight bun atop her head. She glances at you, her nose turned up at your simple outfit, without a word of welcome she goes back to her work.

The door is opening a moment later, a small bell going off as Aaron steps in, the icy breeze trying to follow. “Sorry, David was checking in.” His voice reaches the woman at the counter, grabbing her attention. She watches as he shrugs out of his winter jacket, her gaze fixing on the flash of jewelry on his wrist with a smile.

“Is he okay?” You ask, handing Aaron your own jacket as he hangs them on a coatrack.

“Oh yes, he’s-.”

“Good afternoon, is there anything I can help you with?” You turn, the same woman from before now standing in front of you. She’s wearing a form fitting black dress, the apparent dress code for the establishment, a silver name tag pinned to her collar reading ‘Denise.’ Gone is her dismissive attitudes from before, her blue eyes staring intently at Aaron with a sly smile.

You feel something in your chest squirm, making you take a step in front of Aaron as you pull your best smile into place. “Oh thank you, but we are just-.”

A warm hands is suddenly on your shoulder, pulling you into Aaron’s side. “We’re looking for some work attire; blouses, pants, skirts and such. Along with more casual wear.” He squeezes your shoulder as you slide him a disgruntled look.

Denise regards you with a tight lipped smile, nodding her head slightly. “Of course. Right this way.” She turns on her heel, an extra sway in her her step that makes you roll your eyes as you pull out of Aaron’s grip following her. He follows behind a few paces, regarding you with masked amusement.

She takes you to the back of the store, pointing out the sections of racks you’ll need and where on the walls you can find work appropriate pants and skirts. Denise turns to Aaron once again, stepping to close for comfort as she stares openly at his suit. “You know, we have the latest in Brioni’s suit jackets that I think would complement you rather well, Mr…” She brushes her hand against his arm and your eyes widen.

“No thank you. I’ll let you know if we need any further assistance.” Aaron comes to stand beside you, his expression hard to read as he places a hand on your lower back. Denise’s eyes narrow slightly, her smile faltering before she pulls her emotions back.

“Please do.” She saunters of, throwing one last look over her shoulder.

You laugh unbelievably, “Jesus… she was a bit forward.” You turn toward the rack beside you, picking up the first shirt your eyes land on. It’s a simple white blouse with navy blue pinstripes, the neckline is a little low for your taste but otherwise it’s very pretty. You pick up the tag and instantly drop it, your mouth falling open.

“What?” Aaron asks, sliding the clothes along the pole, looking through the selection.

“This! These clothes are way to over priced.” You turn the tag towards him, and he squints at the small numbers. ‘75.56’. He frowns slightly and you think he’s about to agree with you, call this whole ridiculous thing off until he shrugs.

“That’s not so bad.” He grins at the incredulous look you level him, showing perfect teeth. “Darling you’ll come to realize the value that comes with certain things. Soon enough you’ll see the value in yourself as well.” He chucks you under the chin softly and you think that’s it.

You’re going to explode.

Everything it too much.

“Hotch, I can’t just let you waste that kind of money on me. You don’t know what you will need it for later, bills, or -.”

Aaron steps into your space again, bending down until he’s eye level with you and you clam up. His eyes are dark, burning with an intensity that has your shoulders slumping slightly. When he speaks his voice is quiet but direct, leaving no room for misunderstanding. “What did I say our first rule was?”

You stammer, your grip tightening on the fabric still in your hands. “You said… to call you Aaron.”

“Correct. So that’s one. Now, when I say I am doing something for you, buying you something, getting you something; do not doubt me. If I couldn’t, I wouldn’t. Do I make myself clear?”

All you can do is nod, your throat dry and tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth. “Good girl. Now if you really find calling me Aaron to difficult, you can always call me sir.” You suddenly look like a fire had been lit underneath you, your face flushing a new shade of red he’d yet to see before. You turn away from him, trying to hide your emotions and aggressively shuffle through the clothes before you.

Aaron straightens with a satisfied smile.

*~*~*~*~*~*

An hour in and there is a mount pile of clothing in the cart in front of you. Everything you’ve selected draped over one side and everything Aaron selected on the other. You had found a discount rack, the red tags a twisted mess by now, but the 15% off sign did little to quell the guilt eating you.

“Okay… this is more clothes than I think Garcia even owns. I think we should-.” You’re talking absently, glancing up only to find Aaron is walking in the opposite direction of the checkout. “Oh for the love of all things holy.” You quickly follow, pulling the cart behind you as the hangers rattle together. He stops in front of a display of eloquent evening gowns and you follow his stare to the forefront of the display. A deep emerald green satin dress takes your breath away, with a sweetheart neckline and a slit that goes half way up the mannequins thigh. You peak around the back in awe, it plunges well down to the lower back, a sheer material with beautiful rhinestones occupying the negative space.

Aaron watches as you pick up the bottom of the dress, rubbing the buttery material between your fingers. “I would love to see you in it.”

You shake your head, though your focus remains on the dress. “There’s no reason to, when would I ever wear this? Besides we’ve been here for nearly an hour, if we don’t leave soon I’m sure Denise is going to jump your bones.”

Aaron chuckles at that with a shrug. “You might not be wrong, she’s been lurking around the corner ever since I took my jacket off and she caught sight of my watch.” You glance down at his wrist as he shows you a golden Rolex. You hum in understanding, putting the two together. A handsome, stylish man, with a nice suit and a watch that coasts a couple of grand. She sees dollar signs. “Go ask her for a fitting room.”

Glancing around you notice she’s no more than ten feet away, pretending to be busy with an already neatly arranged display of sweaters. You walk over, hands clasped behind your back. “Excuse me?”

She doesn’t bother to look up, her head tilted as if in contemplation as she stares at the stack in front of her. “Yes?”

Your jaw clenches slightly, but you smile regardless. “I’d like to try that green dress on, where are your dressing rooms?” That finally catches her attention, she looks around you to the dress your talking about and then to the cart beside Aaron, the red tags turned her way. With a bemused smile she finally looks you in the eye.

“Sorry, that dress isn’t on sale, dear. Maybe come back some other time.” Her high voice carries farther than she thinks, reaching Aaron who’s eyebrows raised in surprise before furrowing as anger bubbles in his chest.

Before you can say anything he is by your side, startling you both. “She didn’t ask you if it was on sale. She asked if you had a fitting room.” Denise pales, his voice is harsh and edged making her shift on her feet as she begins to stammer

“Well I… it was just-.”

“Just what? It’s a simple question, this is a clothing store so you must have fitting rooms. She would like one opened.” Denise can no longer keep eye contact, her gaze flickering from his face and away again. “Now.” The command in his voice makes her move, her mouth agape and she’s pointing indirectly over her shoulder. She turns, quickly walking away and you’re left to stunned to react. Aaron’s hand finds your back again, pushing you forward, his other hand on the end of the cart.

The dressing area is three beiges booths with deep red curtains for doors. A large mirror takes up one wall that is lit up like Time Square during Christmas, and there are mirrors in the booths as well. “You said the green dress?” You nod, giving her your size and she’s running off again, her head down and face red. Aaron takes a seat in one of the mahogany chairs, folding his arms across his chest. He’s watching Denise leave with that same look he gives every unsub as they are being hauled off to their final destination.

“Um… thank you, for… for that.” You speak up, breaking the silence waiting on Denise to return.

He doesn’t look at you as he speaks, his black shoe tapping the polished floor. “You don’t typically show when you’re upset or irritated, I had to step in. I also couldn’t stand by and let you be berated like that.”

This time it’s you who crosses their arms, glowering at him. “I wasn’t showing I was upset, so what she was being rude? It didn’t affect me.”

His lips pull into a sarcastic smile, head shaking. “Sweetheart, I’ve been working with you for three years, nearly four. When you get upset over something, even if it is trivial, you dig your nails into your palms. Most likely because you would rather focus on that then what’s stewing in your mind and your chest.” You blink at him, awareness washing over you as you shake out your hands, crescent indents marking your flesh.

Before you can snip at him Denise is back, placing the dress in one of the rooms and leaving without a word. Aaron raises an eyebrow and you huff, turning and walking into the booth before snatching the curtain closed. You take a moment to breath, your annoyance merging on anger as you begin to undress.

You have to force yourself to remember this is all apart of the contract, this is all small steps to whatever greater end goal he has. You can’t fully trust he’s doing this out of the kindness of his heart, no one is like that. Working a career where you catch murderers and kidnappers and rapists has shown you such. The thought lingers at the back of your mind that maybe he’s pushing you to break and go to therapy where they will force your leave. It wouldn’t happen, you’ve come to far to let anyone treat you that way.

You step out of your pants, bending down to pick them up when you notice movement in the mirror. You look up, making eye contact with Aaron from where he sits and you go still. The only thing that moves is your heart as it suddenly jumps into double time.

Aaron’s eyes slowly rake over your body, the hunger in his eyes evident even from where you stand and you can feel your body respond. Heat rushes through your veins, leaving you lightheaded. He shifts in his seat, your eyes dropping to where he tugs at his pants legs, a noticeable bulge in his lap that makes your guts clench. From anxiety? Want? Curiosity? You aren’t sure. You quickly look away, his smile turning wolfish as you straighten and spin around, giving him a full peak at the matching black bra and panties your wearing before yanking the curtain fully closed.

All you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears, your fingers suddenly tingling and your lungs working for air. Shakily, checking the curtain again and again you strip out of your bra, and pull the dress over your head. The satin is soft and cool, the green leaving your skin glowing in the light. It hugs your body in ways you wouldn’t of imagined and you… like it. It screams seduction, fun, and someone you’re not but someone you once might have wanted to be…

The only issue is you can’t zip it yourself. You struggle for a few minutes, contouring your body this way or that, but you can’t get the zipper more than half way up your back.

Reluctantly you pull the curtain aside just enough to peak your head out, your eyes instantly finding Aaron’s. He raises an eyebrow, his hands clasped together in his lap and you are more than aware of why. “I need her help.” Your voice is floaty and you clear your throat. “I can’t zip it up.”

“I’ll help you.” He stands, crossing the small distance in three long strides, quicker than you can reject his help.

“Wait- no, I’m-.” But he is pulling the curtain away from the other side and you curse the interior designer with a flourish of silent profanities. In the small space he seems larger than life, all broad chest and long limbs. He steps closer and you back up, an all to familiar dance you two have rehearsed before.

He holds his hand out, a gesture of reassurance but he is still looking at you like a starved man. “Spin around, pretty girl.” Your legs feel suddenly numb, like you’d never used them before in your life as you continue to stare. “It’s okay.” He whispers, taking another half step forward.

“It’s fine, it fits well enough without it zipped I’m sure it’ll fit great when it is.” You fight to keep your body lose and face expressionless, trying to mask the feelings bubbling in your guts. Aaron doesn’t say anything, only continues to stare you down, gaze never wavering. “Really.”

“Turn around.” You don’t want to listen, but the timber of his voice makes your body ache in a way that catches you more by surprise than anything else has these past 24 hours. Cautiously you lay your hand in his, letting his pull you in before spinning you around so you’re facing the mirror. He sweeps your hair over your shoulder, his fingers grazing across the naked skin pulling gooseflesh to the surface.

You stand as still as possible, hardly breathing as he gently slides the zipper up. His palms spread across your ribs, warm through the thin fabric. “What do you think?”

“It’s a beautiful dress.” You whisper quietly, trying not to back down from his stare.

“You make it beautiful.”

“You’re only saying that.” He pulls you closer, your back hitting his chest, your body molding to his. A gasp disappears on your lips, his hips pressing into you lower back his erection prominent making you shiver.

“I can promise you I’m not.” His hand slips to your stomach, splaying across your abdomen, and a small noise hitches in your throat. He tilts his head down, pressing a tinder kiss to the crown of your head and all you can focus on is where he’s touching you and where he isn’t, but where you want him to. Your panties are suddenly slick feeling as you shift against him, his erection digging further into your ass.

“Aaron…” You try to warn, and he watches the way your eyes flutter, the shields you’ve so desperately and carefully constructed cracking under the weight of his stare. Some logical part of your brain, buried beneath the mush of your thoughts, is screaming and begging to run away. But how long had it been since you’d felt that fire in the pit of your stomach, curling your toes and making your thighs pinch together?

You’re about to open your mouth, say something, anything at all, when he is suddenly pulling away. “Come out here so I can get a better look at you.” Aaron steps behind the curtain leaving you to your spiraling thoughts and an ache you’d never imagine. Your face is flushed, eyes wide and pupils blown out over the color of your irises. It’s hard to keep the air in your lungs from rushing out in soft pants.

All you can think is that if this is how you react to a few simple words and actions, you’re screwed.

*~*~*~*~*~*

The next half hour is spent paying for your clothing, a bill Aaron wouldn’t allow you to see, then moving the bags from the car to your hotel room. You stare at them now, laid out on your bed with furrowed eyebrows and your thumbnail caught between your teeth. How would you get these in your bag and on the plane with as little notice as possible?

“Maybe we can go get you another duffle bag tomorrow.” Aaron answers as if he could read your thoughts, and if you didn’t know better you would say he did.

“It’s okay.. Thank you for the clothing.” You manage, giving him a tight smile as you glance to where he is standing at the foot of the bed.

The entire car ride was filled with tension, his presence alone setting you on edge, all while he remained calm driving down the busy streets and helping you to your room.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” He smiles at you, possibly more so from your compliance, his eyes like coffee. “Would you like to join me for lunch?”

You bite your nail harder, looking back to the bags. “I’d like to just order my food to my room, I need to get this organized and finish my reports.” You expect him to argue but he only nods, coming around the bed and kissing the top of your head before he walks towards the door.

“I’ll check on you in a little while.” With that he leaves, and as the automatic lock slides into place you crumple. You sit heavily on the bed, running a hand through your hair like it might comb your thoughts back into place.

What are you doing?

What is he doing?

You groan in frustration, the feeling of not having control over what happens next beating on your bones and muscles. You haven’t relaxed since this began and you have a feeling you won’t for a long time to come.

*~*~*~*~*~*

If you would like to be tagged in the next parts please comment below and I will gladly add you! Thank you all for your support!

@kneelforloki @hmett20 @axionn @ncis0mrs0gibbs

#smut #apollyonsdarksecrets #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch smut #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch fanfiction #criminal minds aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch fic #criminal minds smut #criminal minds

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jupitervega · 1 year

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fleein the south part II

hi, i'm ri & i'm an autistic nonbinary trans guy-lite-ish person. 4 years ago i moved out to denver from mississippi (where i was born & raised) & immediately had a massive improvement in my quality of life. i was able to access medical & psychiatric care, my career stabilized, people were addressin me with correct terms for the most part, & i was startin to feel like life had finally begun

unfortunately when the lease ran out on our house end of summer last year my roommates decided not to renew, & then the people who were gonna be my new roommates backed out last minute. in a panic i looked for other options but with time runnin short & top surgery approachin i decided to recover at a friend's house & move back to mississippi once my surgeon cleared me to travel cross country so i could regroup somewhere i figured would be less expensive & at least somewhat familiar

that, friends, was a very costly & painful mistake! every single problem that made me wanna move away in the first place has only exacerbated!

i'm comin up on 8 months post top surgery, i have a beard, & i'm still gettin called ma'am/she/her. trump flags & signs still adorn many yards/porches here. hatred & bigotry run rampant in local politics. the other day i didn't even enter one of the convenience stores in the town where i live when i stopped by because they had posted a very thinly veiled racist sign on the door

when i arrived back here i was not even a full month outta surgery & i had a minor complication, so i went to the emergency room cause what else was i sposed to do? applied for charity as i had around $100 to my name at that point, which i THINK? got approved? also applied for mississippi medicaid the same day, which got denied almost outright as i have no children. so i've been uninsured since november & rationin the 3 month supply of my psych/migraine meds i received before leavin colorado for goin on 7 months. never mind bein able to access hrt!

job prospects here are Not Great! i've had to collect unemployment for a while as i cannot for the life of me find a full time job with a livin wage. otherwise i literally cannot make ends meet as the jobs i've held so far down here are payin average 50% or less of what i was makin in denver. even with the part time gigs i've had i have yet to crack 30hr/wk on any kind of regular basis

housin is an absolute shitshow. my lease is up 1 july (got a month extension) & i've been searchin everywhere for an affordable place of my own or at least a good roommate. the more affordable studio/1bd apartments go for around $700 & up, but most have income requirements of 2.5-3x the monthly rent which, considerin previous point abt wages, is near impossible. roommate listins are available but the majority are questionable at best & seekin a live-in bangmaid at worst

with all these considerations i spent the past few weeks feelin worse & worse lookin for somewhere close to the job i currently have. the leases are like 6mo-1y so i was picturin another year down here & how i was gonna survive, let alone thrive. my thoughts got darker & darker. i'd wake up in the mornin & be sad/disappointed i'd survived the night

this is no way to live

i snapped a few days ago. said to myself "if i'm destined to struggle wherever i go, i'd rather do it somewhere i actually Wanted to be in the first place" & started applyin for housin in denver. waitin to hear back from my first option & have secured a backup with a friend with a spare room for 6mo in case that falls through

right now i need help gettin the hell out! i've got first month's rent already put back, i can continue to collect unemployment until i land a good job in denver, & i'm already reachin out to find somewhere to work. i just don't have anywhere to go for another month or two to save the money i'll need to travel almost 1200mi (~1900km) back to colorado. i'll need at least $500 to make gas/food happen durin the time it will take me to get there, & i need it by the first of july (38 days from day of postin)

please help me escape!!!

ca: $jupitervega

vmo: jupitervega

ppal

please please please donate whatever you're able! pls boost!

thank u so much for readin, pls have an item from my emergency happy photo folder for yr enjoyment

#emergency #pls help #pls boost #emergency move #emergency transport #fundraising #help #mutual aid #mutual fund #direct action #direct aid #help pls #emergency assistance #time sensitive

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fryingpan1234567 · 10 months

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so I know… most if not all of the ships in the HTP au (@aquaquadrant and @lunarcrown) are inherently toxic and Bad™️. unhealthy.

they’re rooted in players that are literally coded to be Like That, so the best it gets is kind of like… never wanting to kill each other. that’s the bar I feel like

but I can’t stop THINKING about them because I always pictured it like— a Hels’ partner is the one person they’re sane for. the one person they’re not absolutely feral for (or maybe they are but in a good way). the one person they’re better for.

FOR EXAMPLE.

Pathbubs is arguably one of the worst ones. they’re very sweet and fluffy with each other, but Patho is constantly aware that he’s going to have to leave fairly soon, and Dbubs is either blissfully unaware or refuses to admit that he’s thinking about it. Patho will return after Dbubs’ broken heart heals, when there will be no anger, no grief, just happiness to see him again.

which is… hella toxic.

but like, picture— Patho, on his many adventures out in the world, discovers a cupcake. it’s like a normal cake, but small and travel-sized. what.

so he brings one back for Dbubs next time he visits, who is ECSTATIC and demands to know how to craft one. he declares that he hates it and then devours half of it in one bite, which Patho finds highly amusing.

or like, Dbubs wakes Patho up at the ASS CRACK OF DAWN to drag him out the front door, explaining at a mile a minute that they’re going to go vANQUISH a GREAT BEAST and— and Patho BETTER be PREPARED because this is a BIG HUGE EPIC FIGHT—

and then the vines pull them through the trees so they can see over the top of them, and there’s the sunrise. Dbubs goes quiet as Patho blinks in surprise, pink and gold light turning his hair a pleasant orange color. the red vines growing from Dbubs reach towards the sun, waving cheerfully. Patho doesn’t quite know what to say, but Dbubs snuggles into his side with a contented sigh, and he figures maybe he can stay an extra day this time around. maybe. if the itch to leave isn’t too bad.

example two: Bravo and Timmy.

(technically Bravo isn’t a Hels but bear with me here) they seem like they have the most potential to be normalish— an Overworld player and a sweet but anxious bird boy. and I think they have their normal moments, but most of the time they’re just not like that. again: it’s in their code.

but you get moments like… Timmy forgets to eat for a while, which was just a habit from living near spawn for so many years, but now that they’ve moved away, Bravo’s been pushing him to eat a healthy amount. not because he’s concerned, or anything. just. constant death messages cluttering his screen are irritating. yeah. so Timmy forgets to eat, and Bravo notices how bad his hands are shaking when he hands him the thing he asked for. Bravo sighs in (totally real and not affectionate) annoyance and tosses him some of the food out of his own inventory. they take their lunch break together.

alternatively, Bravo’s been working for hours and hours! and Timmy actually had to remind HIM to eat once or twice! and that’s not good, right? so Timmy drags him away from his work for a much-needed walk, and they have a real conversation that didn’t involve insults or excessive swearing. strange.

last one last one okay

bX and Alisker?? ship name help TvT

anyways. we don’t know a whole lot about the two of them individually or like, their backstories, but bX used to fight in the arena until Alisker freed him (some way or another). maybe he was like “hey that guy can fight maybe I should get him on my side so people are more scared of me.” but some part of me is hoping, because HelsKnight is the champion and therefore the best fighter in there (OVER bX), he still chose bX because there was something special about him. some kind of connection. it wasn’t just business. it wasn’t NOT personal!!

now there are those little canon details that are so. just. Alisker trusts bX the most out of literally anybody who works for him, enough to have him run all the errands including the high-risk ones. he keeps water nearby at all times because bX is a guardian hybrid and he wants to keep him healthy/ happy.

and then… there’s another part of me that is very concerned. the unbridled pda— Atlas literally said that was showing off a very prominent weak spot. but what if. it wasn’t. like what if Alisker isn’t worried about that, because it’s not a weak spot? if someone (probably Bravo or smth let’s be honest) had bX pinned, threatening to kill him if Alisker didn’t do whatever whatever, Alisker would be like. “eh. I don’t care. go ahead.” BECAUSE HE’S SO POWER-HUNGRY HE CAN’T COMPUTE THAT SOMETHING, SOMEONE, COULD POSSIBLY BE MORE IMPORTANT.

and maybe bX knows this. and maybe they’re cool with it. maybe it’s just the way they roll.

I just… I love the way Aqua writes characters. it’s so nice to read and conveys both personality and like goal/ ambition so flawlessly, even if they don’t get much read time. IT’S AMAZING

#anyways.#hermitcraft #htp #hels to pay #htp au #hels to pay au #pathoslair #dboubleI011 #bXminer #Alisker0 #animositygaming #bravobiz #Pathbubs #SOMEONE HELP ME OUT WITH THE OTHER SHIP NAMES

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mostlymaudlin · 1 year

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i made a joke on twitter that someone should write a crack fic that opens with Andrew riding the horse in TKM and he’s like “bet you’re wondering how i ended up here.”

and well. then this happened:

You’re probably wondering how I ended up here.

A horseback ride in the Blue Ridge mountains sounds idyllic, if you’re the kind of person that takes vacations straight out of the free tourist brochures at gas stations. I am not that person.

In fact, I had never been on any vacation before this week. If I were to take a vacation of my choosing, I would absolutely not be doing an activity that requires me to activate my core while breathing air that smells like animal shit.

Yet here I am. Sitting on a horse double my height, following a group of people I don’t even particularly like down a stinky, too-green path through the woods.

You might ask, why did you put yourself in this situation? It’s a good question, and I fear I have the worst answer of all:

There’s this guy.

I know, I know, how cliche. If it helps, I am not prone to them: I’m an orphan but not a Chosen One. I’m a college athlete who couldn’t care less about winning. I’m a twin but I’m nothing like my brother.

The boy problems, though? I’ve got ‘em. And oh, do I know how to pick ‘em.

Neil’s horse ambles down the wide path next to mine. The man himself is slumped forward in his saddle, reins held loosely in his bandaged hands. Neil has the misfortune of being very murder-able, so the bandages are a more common part of his whole look than one would hope.

This most recent bout of “almost getting killed” was particularly… vexing. (We don’t need to go into detail. All you need to know is that I didn’t handle it well.) Neil is moving on, though. He’s taking in the scenery, and his expression befits a tourist brochure even if the rest of him screams, “I should probably still be in a hospital.” When he catches me looking his lips curve into a small smile, and Reader, it is imperative that you understand how passionately I hate him.

“This is cool,” Neil says.

“Well, as long as you’re enjoying it,” my cousin grumbles from behind us. Nicky enjoys nature about as much as I do. I shoot him a look, and he mimes zipping his mouth shut.

Neil only shrugs, leaning further against the neck of his horse. I’m not sure how he’s awake. In the last four nights, he’s slept in a hospital, on a cot in an FBI conference room, on a dorm room floor, and then finally one night in a real bed in the luxurious “cabin” our teammates are renting. Minus the hospital, I’ve dealt with the same sleeping arrangements (yes, including the giant fluffy bed, no, we will not make a big deal of it). Even without the copious injuries, I do not have why don’t we go horseback riding? energy. But somehow Neil, with his half-melted face and arms, has giddied up to come smile at me and the sky and the trees.

This brings me to my point: I’m in deep. I’m so fucked. This morning, I would have told you that you’d never catch me in touching range of a horse. But for twelve hours, I thought Neil Josten might be dead; if he’s going to stand in front of me, saying he wants to go horseback riding, then yeah, every person on this goddamn team is going to get on a goddamn horse unless they want me to gut them.

My thighs are so sore and itchy. I’m on a horse that smells worse than my gear bag, swatting away flies and dodging low branches. I genuinely hate the present moment. It’s my fault, I know: these are the perils of letting ourselves fall for stupid ass men. These are the perils of getting attached to anyone at all.

But put yourself in my shoes. Really visualize it — they are cowboy boots with honest to god spurs, and I was forced to pay money to rent them.

Now ask yourself: Did I really have any other choice?

now on ao3!

#this is crack BUT #watch out for the feelings #I was unable to escape this scenes proximity to baltimore lol #THE WOUNDS ARE QUITE LITERALLY VERY FRESH #aftg #aftg fic #my writing

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shortpplfedup · 9 months

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Only Friends Character Rankings Episode 7

Listen, I didn't know how badly I wanted Mew/Ray until there was a legit chance of Mew/Ray and now IT'S ALL I CAN THINK ABOUT. Another killer episode as all the shit gets laid bare, Nick and Sand cement their bond over being pathetic simps for men who do not love them, Top sits in the loser feeling and DOES NOT LIKE IT and...OH YEAH MEW AND RAY ARE DATING NOW I GUESS. Last week Top ran away with the audience poll as I learned the valuable lesson that y'all actually pay attention to the poll question and I should probably think about it a bit more...lol. Here's my rankings for this week

🔹1. Ray (1)

It’s never too late, Mew. I love you no matter what. It’s all up to you whether you want to open your heart to me.

I almost gave it to Mew because FUCKING EPIC but Ray actually got everything he ever wanted by the end of this episode: Mew has decided to give him a chance, even if it's as a rebound. And y'all, I am INTO IT. They're never gonna have sex, obvi, because Mew high key isn't interested and Ray is #1 simp so dumb obsessed he'll never push it, but I'm still enjoying the flavour. Besides, when Ray gets horny or needs actual affection, he'll just call Sand anyway...OOP. So yeah, Ray wins the week.

🔺2. Mew (3)

I stopped being a good guy. I got no shit from that. To deal with nasty people, I must be as nasty as them.

Wasn't it fascinating that when it was time to break bad Mew a) looked to Ray for style inspo, b) decided to let Ray sniff it one time and c) is leaning into the Ray Life? I wanna dissect Mew like a lab specimen. He's like 'I'm gonna be shitty too' and then just...becomes Ray. Then he Boston-style mansplains manipulates manwhores his way into possessing Boston's sex tape. And THEN in what has to be a 100% Mew move (because neither Ray nor Boston would EVER) threatens to out Boston to his dad, but then Uno reverses it like OF COURSE I WOULD NEVER DO THAT BECAUSE I'M BETTER THAN YOU. And he looked like he REALLY fucking enjoyed that vantage point from the moral high ground. He really looks down on those friends of his huh. And his destiny for always having to 'win' his friendships and relationships is being betrayed and cheated on...don't @ me it's canon. I WANT TO STUDY MEW SO BAD, because from one angle he looks righteous and from another he looks like the living fucking worst. Amy Elliot-Dunne, here's looking at you kid.

🔺3. Boston (6)

Okay. I’m here to get yelled at. Yell at me all you want. Get it over with. Come on. I don’t expect it to be over. I just want you to vent. Fine. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. It was unintentional. It was so nice of me to introduce Mew to something new. I just borrowed him for a bit. What’s a big deal? Let’s be honest here. Without my help, there was no way Mew got his hands on a top-tier like that.

Boston sashaying into the hostel totally unrepentant is a top 5 Only Friends MOMENT and I LIVED for it. He decided the 'brazen' part of 'brazen slut' was the part to lean into and honestly, as one of the few people this ep actually owning their shit I respected the hell out of that. YEAH I FUCKED HIM, I FUCKED HIM BEFORE YOU DID, AND I FUCKED HIM AGAIN AND SO WHAT? In Boston's mind, everybody wins here: Ray wins, because Mew is single again, Mew wins because he knows Top's an untrustworthy cheater, and he wins because he wanted to fuck Top and he fucked Top. Everybody wins, let's just move on. I love the simplicity of Boston's worldview, and how internally consistent and oddly pure it is. He has the morals of an alley cat, but he never LIES. He'll manipulate, but he never actually deceives. In some ways you can trust him absolutely, he's unwavering. Fascinating.

🔹4. Nick (4)

I love him. He doesn’t have to care about me. I don’t have to be his number one. But he must not hate me. Do you get it?

Man, Nick and Sand were almost tied because equally pathetic this week, but at least Nick got a teensy bit of a kick in by telling Mew about the sex tape. Also interesting how he didn't rat Sand out to Boston despite Sand clearly not thinking or really caring about how sharing the audio clip would blow back on Nick. Nick's a creep, but he has a little bit of a code. Do I feel sorry for him, no I don't, but maybe a teeny tiny bit.

🔻5. Sand (2)

I’m your emergency staff anyway. I’ve always been since the first day we met.

I cannot believe that in episode 7 of Only Friends we got a scene where Sand and Nick hug each other and cry together over how pathetically they simp for shitty men who will never love them. WHOMST is doing it like Jojo n'em, I ask you? THAT MAN CALLED YOU A WHORE IN FRONT OF PEOPLE and then did it again while flinging you to the ground and in return you rescued him from a car crash, fed, bathed and shaved him. Sand has a degradation kink, that's the only thing that makes sense here I swear, because how can one human be down THIS atrocious? I wanna see how low he can go, and I also wanna see if we're getting that baseball bat and WHOM FOR. All the things I wished for Nick before the show aired, I now wish for Sand. Boil that bunny baby.

🔺6. Top (7)

I will make you fall in love with me again.

Top really stunned that he's lost. Look, I know my read on Top isn't the consensus read on Top, and yeah maybe I'm wrong, but to me this is only incidentally about Mew, because for Top Mew is a means of self-actualization. Getting Mew to be his boyfriend was awesome, because it means TOP is awesome. Losing Mew over a rookie fucking mistake is a tragedy because it means Top is a loser. Getting Mew back would reaffirm Top's awesomeness to himself. TOP LOVES THE IDEA OF MEW, NOT MEW. I wish I could show you guys the parade of Tops that my peeps and I have met in life so you could understand why I cannot stand this man and want to see him in ruins. But yeah, he's on the rise, because Mew is totally gonna take him back after his disaster run with Ray.

🔺7. Gap (8)

That look you gave. Was it intended to lure me to come after you?

Drake is back yet again, my favourite guest star. They totally cheated by not letting Gap and Mew actually touch lips, although that's probably character accurate. But Mew gets somebody else to look down on and feel morally superior to, and that's his version of an orgasm so Gap totally got SPIRITUALLY laid.

🔻8. Cheum (5)

I was rooting for Top. I thought he was a good guy.

At least she's keeping the group project afloat so they don't fail this damn class, but literally NOBODY ELSE thought Top was a good guy, NOT EVEN MEW. Jesus fix it girl.

#only friends the series #bless this mess #only friends weekly character rankings #i support gay wrongs #only friends #only friends series #bl meta series

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amhrosina · 2 years

Text

Matt Reacting to Your Parents Being Mean to You (Matt Murdock x gn!Reader) Headcanons

MASTERLIST // TAG LIST REQUEST FORM

A/N: This is the second part of a requested headcanon by nonnie! I'll link Frank's to this one. I hope you enjoy!

My request are open, but please be patient! I have gotten an overwhelming amount of requests recently, so I'm working through them as fast as I can without burning myself out. I'm also in the middle of planning a long, full length Frank x Vigilante!Reader fic!

Frank Castle's Headcanon

Summary: Matt comforts you after he overhears your parents being cruel to you.

(Warnings: sexist comments from your parents, ableism towards matt, soft!matt, mentions of matt letting the devil out (so like, mentions of violence i guess?), matt being an absolute doll, reader is matt's world, you know the drill)

You have Matt, and subsequently the Devil, wrapped around your little finger.

Any time he’s ever stumbled upon you crying, he’s always demanded to know who hurt you so he could do his absolute worst to them.

Matt was always comforting and gentle, wrapping you in his arms and kissing your hair.

Once night overtook the city, though, the Devil would come untethered, unleashing his rage on whoever thought they could get away with hurting you.

This was difficult, however, when your parents were the ones bringing tears to your pretty face.

Matt would never let the Devil fulfill his revenge fantasy, though some nights he wishes he could, like tonight.

He stands in the doorway of the apartment you share, cane clenched between white knuckles.

He could hear you sobbing in the bedroom – overheard it from three blocks away and rushed home, vowing to make whoever caused you this pain pay with their blood.

He stops short when he overhears your parents on the phone.

Your parents had always been old-fashioned, so when you moved in with Matt before marriage, you knew they would see it as catastrophic.

“I can’t believe you would do this. This goes against everything we raised you to be. Where is your obedience? Your decorum? Do you have no respect for yourself? Are you nothing more than a common whore?”

Matt feels the metal of his cane bending beyond its capabilities, finally snapping between his hands. Shards of metal embed themselves in his hands, but his focus is elsewhere. He could feel the Devil clawing its way through his chest, begging to be released.

“Dad, please. Matt’s a good man. He helps people every day. He’s a-”

“I can’t see how a blind man could be capable of helping anyone, let alone you.”

“Stop. You can insult me all you want, but don’t insult him. He’s a good man.”

Your phone hitting the wall and shattering is what breaks Matt out of his stupor.

He hastens to the bedroom, knocking softly on the door before opening it.

Your hunched, sobbing form sitting on the edge of the bed knocks the wind out of him. His heart breaks as the salt from your tears hits his tongue.

“Please tell me you didn’t hear that.”

“Petal...are you okay? I’m so sorry. You deserve so much better than that.”

Matt kneels in front of you, removing his glasses.

You fall into his arms. To his credit, he seems to be expecting this. His breathing doesn’t even change when your body collides with his.

Matt runs his hands up and down your back in a soothing motion, letting you cry into his chest for as long as you need to.

“They’re so mean. They wouldn’t last one day in your shoes, yet they constantly belittle you for a disability that you can’t help. They act like it’s a weakness, and like you’re not worthy of love because of it.”

“If I got upset every time someone tried to make my blindness a weakness, I’d be eternally angry. It doesn’t bother me, I promise. What bothers me is the way they talk to you. You deserve the world, petal. I’m so sorry they can’t see that.”

Matt carries you to your bed, crawling into the sheets next to you.

He leaves gentle, caressing kisses all over your face, making you giggle.

“Ah, there it is.”

Matt’s content sigh has your heart aching with love for him. He accepts you, shitty parents and all, and you spend the night enveloped in his arms, cherishing his warmth and love.

End Note: I hope you liked it! I don't think y'all understand just how much I love Matt Murdock. I would do ANYTHING for this man. Thank you for requesting, nonnie!

Tag List:

@alexxavicry @hallecarey1 @km-ffluv @xleiaorgana @mukbee @soft-emo-enby @purple-amaranthe @kokoterainonago666 @blackwidownat2814 @minervadashwood @emiemiemiii @h4rrys

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yandereheathen · 8 months

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Hellooooooo i just wanted to say i really love Korm so far, its so so gooooooood <3 I would love to see what it looks like when they just go absolutely feral, like if they’re pissed off im curious see what the worst looks like 😈 thank you for listening luv u!!

AHHH MY FIRST ASK <3 I Legit fan girl so hard. I am so happy you like my cutie Korm. I didn't think people would like him this much <3 Here is a little dribble of angory Korm! You were found out: [18+ Yandere Korm OC Fic]

WARNINGS: NSFW (MDI) Knife play, violence, cussing, non-con, dark themes

Your hands shook as you looked up at the message on the phone Korm was holding up to you. It was a plan with your friend. To get you away from this house. You had been so careful. There was no change in your rituals, and you had submitted yourself to all of Korms…new care needs.

I needed to be more careful.

"K-korm, please, I don't know who that is or those messages. I love you, I would never." You tried lying, taking his arm.

He was smiling. You hated it when he did that. It always meant some form of pain would follow for you. You almost laugh thinking about how that smile used to warm your heart now, and it just makes you sick.

"Are you happy, Y/N?"

He lowers the phone, taking your face.

"i-i…am.."

You waver, unable to bring yourself to say what he made you say every night while he raped you while he fucked with not only your body but your whole being. You were so close to breaking that you could feel it.

"No. NO, I AM NOT HAPPY. I HATE YOU. I hate what you make me do. I hate that you lied to me. I hate that your mother and no one else will help me. You are a disgusting, sick, twisted little man. I hope you rot in hell."

You scream at him, the feeling of the last few weeks pouring out of your pain and frustration, and maybe the most prominent piece was his betrayal. It hurt so bad. In a tiny little part of your mind, you did love Korm.

Before he can speak back, you spit in his face.

Then, it was quiet as he blinked down at you. You immediately regret it. "Y/n" He sits up at full height; after this turn, you truly appreciate how big he was when he wasn't pretending. He wipes the spit off with one finger and slowly licks it off, savoring your taste for a moment before he closes his hands around your neck.

"Awww sweet Y/N Cute Y/N Someone just be grumpy from lack of sleep. Thats it. You have been taking such good care of me every night. However, we can't allow little sluts to talk like that to their future husbands, right? Humm?"

You shake your head frantically, crawling his hands around your neck. You try to rasp out pleas to let you go, but his grip is too firm. He moves close to your ear. "Let me get through your thick skull that I might be on the path to rot. However, you will be there with me. My wonderful Caretaker."

He pushes you down on the floor, standing over you, one arm painfully under his boot, the other pressing down on your head.

"You will never leave me Y/N. You were made for me. It is so pathetic watching you try to leave me. So cute. So Weak."

He grinds down on your head painfully. Your ears start ringing as you try vainly to get him off you. "P-please, please, Korm. I am sorry. I am so sorry. It hurts you are hurting me!" You manage to whimper, but as you have learned, this only excites him. How did your sweet, soft best friend turn into this sadistic monster? You didn't realize it was him all along. "Love is Pain Y/N. We will do this until you learn your lesson." He gives your head more pressure just enough to start to see stars before crouching and lifting you by your hair.

"Open" You do so now, crying, your face bruised and red from his boot. He smiles, running his finger around your mouth before playing with your tongue. "So warm. So soft. It's just everything about you, Y/n, so. I n t o x ic i ca ti ng. He whimpers; you see the bulge in his pants, creating a spot of precum from his excitement. Then he spits directly on your tongue, giggling to himself. "Swallow" you do so, almost gagging at the taste of him coating your mouth. "That is a good little one. I taste good, don't I? Savor it, Y/N."

You cry harder now. How could you think about leaving? You know he would find you. It hurt you and anyone who wanted to help you.

He moans at your sobs, kissing them as he pulls you into his lap on the floor. Cooing at you, you knew it was coming before you felt the knife on your back. You sobbed harder as it followed the still-healing scars on your lower back. He lifted you just enough to cut away nothing keeping him from being inside of you before focusing himself in with little to no preparation on your part. You scream out as he ruts inside you, panting as the knife with some sleight of the hand still barely nicks you, and he bounces you on his lap. "F-fuck, that's it. Cry harder, Y/N. Show me how much you love me. You feel so perfect around me now. Dont. I?"

He thrusts in at those last two words. You hide your face in his shoulder, a sniveling mess, and he breeds into you the knife, sending little pangs of pain with unwelcome pleasure.

That's when you realized.

You were already rotting in hell. With him By your side.

"I love you forever. My little Caretaker."

#yandere smut #yandere thoughts #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere #yandere writing #tw non con #tw: yandere #yandere boy #ask #this made my day #OC: Korm

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iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia · 1 year

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How do you think the M6 would react to a lying MC? Whether it’s to them or some one else is up to you or how extreme the lie is. Thank you, Arcana Headcannon Jesus <3

The Arcana HCs: M6 and the lies MC tries to tell them

~ oh boy, i did not expect being called Arcana Headcannon Jesus to hit my religious trauma like that, that was a vibe check lol

considering how in the stories MC tends to omit the truth at worst and be painfully blunt at best, i'm going to write them as a terrible liar just as a personal design choice. and also because it makes me laugh. thanks for the prompt, anon, i hope it makes you smile! - brainrot ~

Julian

You can totally read his handwriting

You love it when he writes you love letters, they warm your heart, but truthfully you can only make out maybe a quarter of the words on the page

But you can't tell him that because you don't want him to feel like all that beautiful poetry went to waste

At least you think it was poetry

You're running some errands, does he need anything?

Ah, a list of obscure medical devices. Which may or may not be available. And he wrote it down for you, how sweet!

You're so busy trying to decipher the ink blotches that you don't notice his smirk

He totally believes you can read his writing, and all the words on the paper are totally not made up medical jargon

He never says anything because he lives for the moment he can bend over your shoulder and murmur the words he wrote into your quickly reddening ear

Asra

You don't mind the questionable objects they bring into the shop without warning at all

Nope, not the bidet-shaped flamethrower

Or the screeching rattle he replaced the shop's front door bell with that makes every incoming customer jump

Or their favorite painting containing colors that the human eye was not intended to see, prominently hung on your kitchen wall

Or the jar of kool-aid pickled garlic, which he still can't open even though it's been slowly emitting a toxic stench for the last month, and which he refuses to part with because he hasn't been able to try it yet

They love you, but they love pranking you too, and seeing your reactions makes them giggle

He would never cause you any harm though

Which is why their collection of poison spitting cacti stays in a pocket realm, next to the void that wouldn't stop teaching the stove salamander explosive curse words

Nadia

You know royal etiquette like it's second nature

You know all the titles there are, you never get things like pontifex and praetor and procurator mixed up

The table place settings make total sense, who wouldn't use a slightly different type of fork to eat every kind of dish?

And nothing entertains you more than petty politics, nothing at all

In fact, you don't even find Nadia's highly accomplished family remotely intimidating

They're perfectly normal people, just like you, and you are just like them, every move is graceful and your clothes are always pristine

Nadia adores your spirited approach and will happily move purposefully slowly at the dinner table so you know which fork to grab and how to eat the complicated dishes that get served

According to her, you know what you're doing better than anyone else does

Muriel

You can reach and lift anything he can, no problem

You just need a little more time, but you'll get it

You can get the fallen tree split up for firewood and carted into storage, no biggie

Okay so the sun is setting now and you started before lunch and it never takes him longer than half an hour, but you took a lot of breaks okay

But if he wants to spend time with you that badly, he can help a little

Now you just need to lift those bowls down to eat, you've got this, you're a good climber

You never develop any suspicions around why daily necessities always end up on the top shelves, or why Muriel is so open to you helping with outside chores

He likes being needed

The face you make when you're frustrated is adorable

And he loves that you will never admit it

Portia

Please, you can absolutely keep up with her energy levels

Walking to the palace to get a shopping list

And trekking down into the city and through the floating market, the center marketplace, and the south end market to get everything

All to climb back up countless stairs with all your purchases

And walk through all the hallways to give everything to the multitude of requesters

And then back to the cottage for the evening

So you can cook the big evening meal and sweep and mop the floors and spend a few hours weeding the garden

And then all the way back out to the Rowdy Raven for a night of drinking and dancing

And then all the way back home so you can go to bed

She never pressures you to join her, but she always invites you

Hey, she likes spending time with you and you're cute when you're flushed

Lucio

You believe all his tall tales, they're so realistic

Dove to the depths of the ocean and defeated a giant minnow? Totally

Took out a thousand trained killers with one swipe of his mighty gauntlet? Mmmhm

Climbed to the top of the highest mountain to pluck some stars from the sky, which is how he got these diamonds? Of course

He can go days without eating or drinking and never crave sustenance? That tracks, he doesn't have a gluttonous bone in his body

He knows he can be narcissistic sometimes, but he's not *that* delusional

But he likes seeing your little smile as you indulge his fantasies, because you do it out of love and not mockery

And maybe he likes pretending just for a minute that what he's saying is true

#ask arcana brainrot #the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc #the arcana #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #muriel the arcana #portia the arcana #lucio the arcana #the arcana shitpost #the arcana game #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #muriel of the kokhuri #portia devorak #lucio morgasson

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anonymouslydisabled · 11 months

Text

Things disabled people wish you knew about mobility aids!

I am more mobile with my mobility aid than without.

Stop asking me when I'll get better.

When I don't have a mobility aid and am using a shopping cart, do not take it, I am leaning on it so I can be on my feet longer.

Stop asking me why I need a mobility aid when we're strangers.

I decorate my cane, it feels like a part of me, please give me space to feel sad when I have to replace it.

People will walk into me or gotten very close, please don't stare at your phone while you walk.

Mobility aids are not depressing.

Mobility aids help us to live fuller and more independent lives with less symptoms.

I love my mobility aids! I don't want the focus of my treatment to be getting rid of them, I want it to be improving my symptoms.

Mobility aids don't have to be boring and plain. A mobility aid being decorated doesn't mean I don't need it!

I don't need help unless I ask for it.

Disability isn't taboo, let your kids be curious and ask questions.

Stop moving my mobility aid(s) without asking me. My mobility aid(s) are an extension of my body.

I don't just use my mobility aid for shits and giggles, I need it. It is not for show it is not for attention and implying it is is incredibly ableist.

People use mobility aids differently, some people use their mobility aids all the time and some people don't. I don't need my mobility aid 24/7.

I switch sides with my cane and constantly have to worry about being fake claimed when in reality I just need it for both of my legs.

I'm still disabled even though I'm fat and have invisible disabilities.

I'm still disabled and in pain even when I'm not using any mobility aids.

I'm not a baby, I'm not just fat, I'm not just weak. I am disabled and I like to think I'm stronger than most non-disabled people.

It's really weird to make comments or gestures when I'm in my wheelchair. If you wouldn't say it to someone who doesn't have a wheelchair don't say it to me.

Don't bend down to talk to me it's hella weird. Just talk to me like you would talk to anybody shorter than you.

Just because I'm not using my mobility aid doesn't mean I'm suddenly better!

I'm just as disabled when I'm not using my mobility aid.

Going a few days without my mobility aid doesn't mean I'm no longer disabled.

Just because I don't always need my mobility aid does not make it a toy.

Mobility aids can be incredibly helpful and we shouldn't have to be embarrassed to use them.

If I'm in my electric wheelchair and I'm in front of an aisle you need to get to just let me know, don't reach over my lap like I'm not a person.

If you don't step out of my way as a wheelchair user I am going to hit you, that's not a threat, it just will happen. You have a lot more maneuverability than I do.

If I'm using my mobility aid, you can be respectful and accomodate me without making it a thing. I know my limits and capabilities. Using a cane does not make me weak or helpless.

It's really funny seeing you guys jump to get out of the way when I use my cane, the space is appreciated, but it's still really funny to see the look on your face.

Please stop praying for my "recovery" there is none!

My rollator gives me freedom! I can go more places without having to worry about a lack of seating. I can actually walk faster with it than without it.

My mobility aid shouldn't be a horrifying last resort, it helps me so much, even when I'm not at my absolute worst!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thank you so much to everybody who participated! Happy disability pride month everyone!

#mobility aids #cane user #rollators #wheelchair #disability #chronic illness #spoonie #chronic pain #chronic fatigue #crutches #psychical disablity #disability pride #disability awareness #actually disabled #mobility assistance #physically disabled #anti ableism

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fluentmoviequoter · 10 months

Note

I just watched the new insidious can I request dalton where the reader is elise's granddaughter the reader knew their family and the things that happened because when elise was alive reader is always with her, reader is just like elise a psychic like paranormal ability kinda but after Elise died she never used it anymore and kinda angry with the lamber family (esp with josh lmao) then she met dalton again in the school reader is avoiding him but when things got worst for dalton, reader decided to help him:)))) reader gave them a chance(☆▽☆)

Thank you so much for this request! Apologies for the wait! I really enjoyed writing this and would love to write a part 2 with more background/flashbacks if anyone is interested!! I hope this is what you wanted and let me know what you think! :)

Warnings: angst, the beginnings of fluff, descriptions of the Further, spoilers for The Red Door. 2.1k+ words

A Second Chance

Nine Years Ago

“It’s too dangerous now,” Elise said. “I’ll be back sometime tonight, maybe in the morning.”

“What if Dalton needs my help again?” you asked.

“We can go see Dalton tomorrow and make sure everything is alright, but the entity in that house has grown too powerful for you to be around it.”

“Will I get strong enough, like you, one day?”

“Absolutely. Remember how?”

“Keep a steady stride,” you said together, hugging your grandmother before watching her climb into the van with Specs and Tucker.

Specs and Tucker knocked on the door, and you immediately felt their sadness and nervousness. You knew before you actually saw them, but the look in their eyes confirmed your biggest fear. Your grandmother, one of the only people who knew about your abilities, was gone. Last night, she told you that entity was too strong for you, but nothing should have been strong enough to overpower her in the Further, let alone this realm. Falling to your knees, you began to cry as Specs knelt beside you and hugged you tightly.

“How did it happen?” you asked after a few moments.

“Something possessed Josh,” Tucker begins.

“Josh Lambert? He’s dealt with this before, why couldn’t he get free or send a signal?”

Specs shook his head and began to speak, but you cut him off.

“What about Dalton? What did Dalton do to help?”

“Dalton wasn’t there,” Specs answered carefully. “And whatever thing did this is still in Josh’s body. Maybe he can send a signal now, or Elise can help him from the other side, but…”

“I’m not helping him, if that’s what you’re about to ask.”

“But you’re the only one with the knowledge, the power,” Tucker pointed out.

You stand and wipe your tears as you argue, “And he killed my grandmother.”

From that moment, you vowed never to use your abilities again, to leave your knowledge in the past, and never let anything in the Further affect you again.

Present Day

Graduating high school and starting college are two of the worst days of your life because you miss Elise so much on big occasions. Moving into your dorm and adjusting was surprisingly easy though. In fact, everything seems too easy until your roommate asks you to accompany her to a frat house.

“Why?”

“I left my favorite jacket there at the party last night, and I don’t want to go alone. Please?” she begs.

“Fine. But if anything gross or weird happens, I will leave you there and claim your side of the dorm.”

She crosses her heart, vowing everything will be fine, before leading the way to the frat house. The front lawn is littered with empty cups, bottles, and what looks to be diapers. You wait beside her as she knocks on the front door.

“Hey, can I help you?” a girl asks when she opens the door.

“Hi. I was here last night and think I left my jacket; can I look around for it?”

“Of course.”

Your roommate leads the way inside and then asks you to look upstairs.

“I am not going upstairs alone.”

“You’ll be fine. Thanks so much! It’s a light blue denim jacket with black buttons.”

She disappears into the house, so you walk up the stairs, looking around as you climb. You hear a guy reading something in a room to your right, so you decide to go left first, nearly running into someone. Hands on your shoulders keep you upright as an oddly familiar voice apologizes.

You look up and cough out of surprise. “Dalton?”

Dalton’s eyes widen, and he pulls you slightly closer. “Are you alright?”

“Dalton?” you repeat.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s been a long time. What are you doing here?”

“I go here – to the school I mean, not the frat. Wait, are you?”

“In a frat? No.”

A girl down the hall says Dalton’s name and then opens a door. “This one’s dark.”

Your eyes quickly lift to Dalton’s. “Please tell me you’re not messing with the Further again.”

“It’s messing with me,” Dalton attempts to joke.

You shake his hands off your arms and turn around, spotting a jacket matching your roommate’s description draped on a doorknob. Picking it up, you head for the stairs.

“Can I see you again?” Dalton asks.

“Probably not,” you snap, then sigh. Stopping and looking up at Dalton, you whisper, “This is dangerous, Dalton. Make sure you know what you’re messing with.”

When you reach the bottom of the stairs, your roommate rushes forward and grabs the jacket, thanks you for finding it so quickly, then drags you out of the house. Your mind drifts to Dalton, and you force your mind to remember why you don’t affiliate with the Lamberts. Because one of them killed Elise as far as you're concerned.

Assuming that Dalton attends the art school, based on all the pictures he drew when he was younger, you ensure you do not go near those buildings when walking on campus. You know it isn’t Dalton’s fault that Elise is gone, or even Josh’s, but it is much easier to have a person to blame. A person to direct all your buried hate at.

As you enter your dorm building, all of the lights go out, but this is a darkness you recognize. This is a darkness that you vowed to never return to.

“Dalton,” you gasp before dropping your bag and running up the stairs. You look out at every landing, hoping to see Dalton on one of them.

Before you can find him, the darkness begins to fade. You hear the distant sound of a piano playing and realize that Dalton is messing around in the most dangerous realm you’ve ever heard of. Allowing your anger toward the Lamberts to grow, you return to the main floor, retrieve your backpack, and leave. There’s only one group you can call for answers regarding why you got sucked into Dalton’s play-date in the Further.

“You don’t understand, I didn’t do anything, I was wide awake. Someone else went into the Further and I ended up in it too,” you explain.

“How do you know someone else traveled?” Specs asks through the phone.

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you tell him the truth. “Dalton Lambert is here and he told me he’s been messing around with it, or vice versa.”

“He said the Further is messing with him?” Tucker clarifies.

“Yeah.”

“Carl wiped their memory,” Specs says to Tucker, but you make out the words.

“Carl wiped whose memory?”

“Dalton and Josh,” Specs answers. “Nine years ago.”

“So, if he’s saying the Further is messing with him,” you trail off.

“He’s telling the truth,” Tucker finishes.

“And he’s in danger,” you say with Specs.

Hanging up the phone, you pace as you try to think of where Dalton would be or how to contact him. You take a chance and begin walking around campus, looking into all the shadows and hoping that Dalton is alright. You may not like his family, but that doesn’t mean you want him to get hurt.

As you get to the administrative buildings, you prepare to admit defeat and return to your room. Then Dalton enters your sight, leaning against a pillar outside the student health center. You watch from a distance as he stops a girl as she walks out. They talk for a moment, then she walks away.

“Dalton?” you call, walking toward him.

He turns and says your name, meeting you in the middle.

“What happened?”

“They attacked my friend, Chris.”

“In this realm?”

Dalton nods, and you bite your lip, thinking as you look down. “You need help.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Me helping doesn’t change anything. Do you understand that? When this is over, I’m going to walk away and pretend like this never happened.”

Dalton’s eyes drop for a moment. “Yeah, whatever you need to do.”

You nod, then begin to walk with him.

“I should call my brother and see if he remembers the red door, or the hammer,” Dalton says quietly.

You grab his forearm, stopping him. “Red door? The one in the Further?”

“You know what it is?”

“Yeah. No chance you remember the lipstick demon yet?”

“The what demon?”

“Carl did a good job,” you say under your breath. “The red door is home to one of the most dangerous demons in the Further.”

“And the hammer?”

“You don’t remember?”

“My parents said I was in a coma, that’s what I remember.”

“You were awake when your dad tried to kill you.” You can’t keep the bitterness from your voice when you mention Josh.

That comment sparks something in Dalton, and he grabs your hand before running to his dorm, pulling you along with him. When he enters his dorm, you silently watch as he adds a face, Josh Lambert’s, to his painting. It is not nearly as satisfying as it should be to see Josh in the likeness of a monster.

“I sent a picture to Foster. I don’t know what to do now,” Dalton confesses as he stands and faces you.

Dalton closes his eyes, so you say his name. You groan, which grows into a yell, before closing your eyes and forcing yourself into the Further.

“Dalton, what are you doing?” you ask when you catch up with him.

“I didn’t mean to.”

You look around and realize with detached fear where you are.

“We need to go,” you insist, grabbing his arm. “Now!”

A chain appears around Dalton’s ankle, and chairs begin to build a dome in the midst of the lipstick demon’s arrangement of Dalton’s memories. Dalton is pulled to the floor, and you kneel before him, focusing your energy on holding the chairs off.

“I have to go. I’ll be right back.”

Dalton’s hand thrashes out and grabs your wrist as he looks up at you.

“That’s what you said last time.”

“You remember?”

“I’m starting to. I remember you leaving and never coming back.”

“Just like I remember Elise leaving and never coming back,” you counter quietly. “I promise, Dalton, but I have to fight in the real world now. I’ll come back for you. Stay with me, yeah?”

Dalton nods, and you run toward the light, willing yourself to wake up. The chairs crash down around Dalton as you enter your body, prepared to fend off the lipstick demon until Dalton can regain control of his mind. As you attempt to psychically defeat the lipstick demon, you see a sudden change as Dalton’s eyes return to normal. Immediately after, Dalton goes rigid and falls to the floor.

Returning to the Further, you hear Josh telling Dalton to go. You take another step and see Josh holding the red door closed, sacrificing his life to keep everyone from getting hurt. Following Dalton to ensure his safe return, you gasp as your body hits the floor just as you reenter your body. Dalton helps you up and then begins spreading black paint over the image of the red door and possessed Josh. As soon as he’s finished, his phone rings. He ensures his dad is back and then hangs up, turning his attention to you.

“You’re okay? Back to yourself?” You ask, holding your hands behind your back.

“I’m me. Are you alright?”

You shake your head and take a step backward. “Glad you made it out. I saw your dad helped, so maybe you guys can make up after... you know.”

“You saw my dad? You came back?”

“I promised I would.” You take another step back, and Dalton makes up for it by stepping toward you.

“I’m sorry about what happened that night. If I had been there, maybe I could have gone in and gotten my dad out or helped.”

You shrug. “You weren’t. It’s over, nothing we can change now.”

“I really am sorry. If I had known, I would’ve, I don’t know, called or come to see you. Made sure you were okay.”

“Dalton, don’t worry about it.”

“I just miss you. Even when I didn’t remember you, I always felt like something was missing.”

“There wasn’t anything you could do.”

“I could have been a friend.”

You nod, looking toward the door. “Maybe I’ll see you around?”

“Wait. Thank you. For helping me, coming back. I can never repay you for that.”

“You could try.”

“What?” Dalton furrows his brows as you take another step toward him this time.

“I could use a friend now. I haven’t had one in a while.”

Dalton’s phone rings, and he raises it to show his mom’s contact. You smile at him and open the door, turning at the last second to say, “And maybe we could be more than friends this time. If you want a second chance, which I know I do, call me.”

“A second chance,” Dalton repeats, spotting the piece of paper with a phone number beside his open sketchbook. “I’d like one too.”

#dalton lambert x reader #dalton lambert imagine #dalton lambert fic #dalton lambert #insidious #dalton lambert fluff #insidious the red door #requests

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