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xiaq · 3 years

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Hi, I have a question re:sex and Christianity. Small background: I still go to church, and I still live with my parents even though I'm not much younger than you, because housing is very very expensive where I live (pretty common here, I would say about 2/3 of my friends live with their parents and we are decently privileged kids)

Anyway. How does one get over purity culture? To be clear, I've never been told in church not to have sex, I've never gotten the gendered lessons that you got. But I am terrified of having sex. My first real, multi-year relationship just ended and while there was hand stuff etc, there was never any p in v sex (lol I feel 12). But I still had insane anxiety about being pregnant despite being on bc. And I think its because I know my parents would be so disappointed if I had sex. And if I was pregnant I could imagine all the gossip. And honestly I think im from a pretty open church, b/c one of our previous ministers kids recently got married at 8 months pregnant and lots of church people were at the wedding and supportive and her parents were there and everything.

I dont even think I particularly like sex, i might be on the ace spectrum, but how do I remove it from all the anxiety that's tied to it so I can even give myself the chance to find out???

(Asking because it seems like you've been pretty open about purity culture/removing yourself from it)

CW for sex talk (again)

How does one get over purity culture?

Oh man. That really is the million-dollar question, huh? Obviously, I can only answer re my personal experiences, and this is something you should talk to a therapist about, but I can tell you how I’ve tackled it with my therapist at least.

Purity culture is, at its core, an ideology that is perpetuated by shame. If you’re indoctrinated into purity culture when you’re a kid, the concepts become baked into the way you construct your identity, your perception of self, and your perception of your sexuality. It’s practically intrinsic, by the time you’re an adult, to feel shame any time you’re reminded you have a body, much less a sexuality.

According to the chapels I sat through every week as a kid, a girl's body could be 3 things: an intentional stumbling block for men, an accidental stumbling block for men, or unnoticeable. Women were to strive for the third option so as to keep their (and their male friends/authority figures) purity intact. After all, if a boy, or even your male teacher, had impure thoughts about you, it was your fault for tempting them (which, holy shit. I still can’t believe that was a thing I bought into for so long. If my 45 yr old grown-ass teacher had impure thoughts because he could see my 12 yr old collarbone, that sure as hell wasn’t my fault. But I digress.) The Only time a woman’s body can be something else, is when she gives it to her husband, at which point she must suddenly flip the switch in her brain that she is now allowed to be a Sexual Being and she must perform Sexual Duties despite living in outright fear of her own body and sexuality for years (decades?) up until this point. Jesus take the wheel.

Purity culture isn’t a thing you can just decide to walk away from if you’ve grown up in it. Because its ideology is insidious and internalized. So first you need to submit to the fact that you��re going to be fucked up about sex. It sounds like you’re there. Second, you need to interrogate what you believe. If you’re leaving religion behind entirely, you’ll approach removing yourself from purity culture differently than if you still identify as a Christian. It sounds like you might be the latter, which meant, for me, separating what’s actually biblical and what’s shitty, contrived, doctrine that I was told is biblical but is actually more political than spiritual. This helps you address the shame issue.

You need to throw away I Kissed Dating Goodbye and Lady in Waiting and all those ridiculous books you read and reread in the hopes of somehow obtaining impossible marriage perfection and look into actual scripture interpreted within its historical context. I could write a book on this, but the TL;DR is that the text of the Bible was written, translated, curated, and changed multiple times over thousands of years by human beings with human biases and, often, personal and/or political agendas. It contradicts itself! Reading it as it is—a flawed historical document—rather than some sort of God-breathed perfect document—is incredibly freeing. When you do, you’ll probably realize that purity culture is bullshit on a spiritual level. Which is a good start, if that matters to you. Because any time you start to feel shame or guilt you can ask yourself: does God actually care if I wear a bikini or touch a dick I’m not married to? Probably not. Wear the bikini. Touch the dick.

The most important therapy session for me was when my therapist asked what I would do if I got to heaven and God was actually the God I’d been raised to fear. What would I do if he condemned me for being bisexual and having premarital sex and becoming educated, for arguing with men, and failing to isolate while menstruating, and wearing mixed fabrics? If Montero had come out at the point, I probably would have said I’d pole dance down to hell. Instead, I said I would spit on heaven’s gates. If a god that cruel and that pointlessly demeaning really exists—a god who would create in me condemned desire—I won't worship him. The good news is, I’m 99% sure he doesn’t exist. At the very least, he isn’t supported by scripture.

Okay. The final thing you need to do is figure out what you actually want, sexually speaking. This bit is probably the hardest. I’m still in the early stages of this myself. You say: “I dont even think I particularly like sex, i might be on the ace spectrum, but how do I remove it from all the anxiety that's tied to it so I can even give myself the chance to find out???” Bro, I wish I had an easy answer for you. For me, whenever I’m feeling anxious about Sex Things, I tell myself: 1. My God does not equate my worth to my sexual habits. 2. My partner does not equate my worth to my sexual habits. 3. I do not equate my worth to my sexual habits. It seems silly, but reminding myself of those three things is massively helpful. If, after I’ve sorted through those, I’m still anxious or uncomfortable, I stop doing the thing. I evaluate. Am I overwhelmed and I need to try again some other time? Do I just not like the thing? Sometimes it’s hard to tell. Sometimes you change your mind. Sometimes you just don’t know. That’s why having a partner who you trust and who’s willing to patiently explore your interests (and respect your disinterests) is so important. Half the battle, for me, was having a partner who told me they’d be ok with no sex at all. Because that took the pressure off me. If the bare minimum they need is nothing, then anything more than that is a bonus! Hooray! This is maybe TMI, but let me tell you. I thought I was asexual* right up until I was able to have moderately non-anxious sex. Never in my life did I think I would initiate a sexual situation but… I do now. It’s a fun thing to do with a person I love and, holy shit. I am furious that I nearly missed out on it.

Finally, re birth control: I don’t know how you can approach that fear in a way that works for you. If you don’t want to ever have penetrative sex, that’s fine! If that’s a point of anxiety you can’t get rid of, then don't push yourself to do it. If you find out you like other sex things, do the other sex things! If you don't like doing any sex things, don't do any sex things! Also, have you considered sleeping with people who can’t get you pregnant? Always an option if it’s an option you want to consider. ;)

Okay. I hope this was even a little bit helpful. Sorry if it’s a little convoluted, I typed it up in bursts during my work breaks.

*This is not at all to say that asexuality can be “fixed." Rather, it’s to say that things like purity culture can drastically confuse your sexuality in general. If you’re asexual, then this process is still important to discover what you like/dislike. Then you can be explicit about those necesities and find a partner who’s a good fit (if you want a partner at all, that is).

#purity culture #sex talk #christianity #sex and relationships #sex and religion #mylife #answered asks #aspec #cw sex

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cherienymphe · 4 years

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Cruel Intentions (Steve Rogers x Reader)

WARNINGS: NON-CON, manipulation, mentions of abuse, therapist!Steve, silverfox!Steve, drugging

! DNI IF THIS OFFENDS YOU !

➥ Image by @angrybirdcr

➥ dividers by @firefly-graphics

This is for the “For the Fic” challenge whose winner for my fic was @darkficsyouneveraskedfor

The entire plot was her request and I hope that you like it!

summary: after escaping an abusive ex, you find solace in a therapist recommended to you by a friend.

“...I know I shouldn’t...but sometimes I blame myself. In Harry, I know that I was looking for what I never had in my family. I think it made me quick to rush into things...to ignore what I should have seen.”

Your eyes remained on the dark carpet, the man before you humming as the scribbling sound of his pen reached your ears. You fought hard not to fidget, a horrible habit you’d picked up in the last 3 years. You finally lifted your head again when the room was bathed in silence, eyes meeting familiar blue ones as he studied you.

You were used to these short moments of silence by now.

You’d been recommended to Dr. Steve Rogers by a friend, a friend who’d helped you escape your violent ex in the dead of night while he’d been away on business. She had grown worried when it became obvious that the effects of your tumultuous relationship would be lasting if you didn’t do something about it. Oddly enough, you’d been receptive. For 2 whole years, you’d wanted to tell someone, have anyone to turn to and talk to, but fear, a very valid fear, had stopped you.

Not only had you been worried for your life, something that was threatened on a constant basis, but you’d also been afraid of judgement. You worried what your friends would say, if they’d blame you for finding yourself in such a predicament, if they’d look down on you for no longer fighting back. It was only by a stroke of luck that Nakia had seen Harry slap you right across the face when he thought she’d left. You were grateful that she’d waited for him to leave before rushing towards your trembling frame, pulling you into her arms as she shushed you.

She had demanded to know how long this had been going on. She had been horrified and confused and angry. It didn’t take her long to come up with a plan, and within 2 weeks, after waiting for Harry to leave the city for 2 days, she’d gotten you out and into her place across town. You didn’t stay for long, maybe a few weeks, wanting nothing but to put it all behind you, and although she was sad to see you go, she understood.

It was how you found yourself in upstate New York, in a secluded tiny thing of a house. You hadn’t even realized that you’d become something of a recluse until Nakia had pointed it out during one of your weekly calls. It had never hit you that you went to work and to home and that was it. You barely ate anymore, so grocery shopping was never a frequent affair. That was when she’d told you about a well known therapist in the area, Steven G. Rogers. You had been shocked by how much you weren’t opposed to the idea as she went on listing all of his credentials.

It was only moments after she hung up that you found yourself researching him yourself. You remembered noting how handsome the man was, even more so in person. His bright blue eyes and silver tresses complimented his strong features nicely, pink lips pulled up into a polite smile. You didn’t find yourself put off by the stranger, thinking to yourself that talking to someone you didn’t know, an objective listener who was paid not to judge you, might be for the best.

You soon found out that was easier said than done.

The first visit had been rocky, barely mumbling a thing and constantly fidgeting. You had hardly been able to meet his eye, and the session had abruptly ended when you’d left early, stumbling over your words as you gave some half assed excuse for your sudden departure. He was far more understanding than you deserved during your second visit. Wracked with guilt and anxiety, you’d written some things down that you wanted to talk about, and thankfully, the man hadn’t laughed at you. In fact, you remembered how fondly he looked at you as you unfolded it.

As it turned out, you didn’t need the slip of paper at all. Notes forgotten, you had rambled on for an hour. It was like once you started, you just couldn’t stop, and Steve simply listened the entire time. The next time he spoke to you was only to tell you that your time was up, and both embarrassment and disappointment had flooded through you. It must have been obvious, plain as day on your features, because Steve reassured you that it was normal to ramble.

You had been reluctant to leave. After years of biting your tongue and living in fear of even making the wrong sound, you finally found someone to listen. Even if it was only a stranger getting paid for it, it was still something. There was someone to express your fears to, and although it had taken some time, terrified that you’d say the wrong thing and upset him, eventually, you started to express your anger too.

“...and then I get angry all over again,” you continued when he said nothing. “...because I’m smart, because red flags in others’ relationships have always been so obvious to me. I’ve always been the mom friend, the one who can spot trouble before it even starts. I’ve helped friends get out of situations before they even had the chance to turn sour…”

You shook your head.

“...and yet...it took a slap to the face to realize just how deep I was in? Not the jealousy, not the anger issues nor the way he’d isolated me from just about everyone in my life...but a slap? It should’ve never gotten to that.”

“You can’t blame yourself for the actions of others.”

It wasn’t the first time you’d heard that. Hell, it wasn’t even the first time he’d told you that, and yet here you were again.

“We can go in circles analyzing your own behavior and the things you did and the things you said, but the truth is that you could play it out in your head a million times. You could do every single thing differently, and it still wouldn’t change a thing.”

The corner of his lips lifted into a crooked smile, a familiar sight.

“Some people are simply cruel, and it has nothing at all to do with you.”

You sharply inhaled, unsure of why such a simple statement resonated with you so deeply. You stared at Steve, blinking a few times, opening your mouth to respond when he glanced at the clock. It was a tell tale sign, and your shoulders sagged. You would think that after seeing him for 7 months now, you’d be used to leaving after only an hour, but it never got easier.

“That’s all the time we have for today,” he said, standing. “You’re progressing nicely, Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes, and he chuckled, eyes crinkling.

“You are. Progress and healing isn’t linear. Sometimes you’re going to take 2 steps back before you can take 10 more forward. It’s all part of the process,” he assured you.

You sighed.

“Well… I guess that does make me feel a bit better,” you replied.

He sent you a small smile as he guided you towards the door.

“I’ll see you next week?”

You returned his smile with a nod and didn’t let your face fall until the door was shut behind you. The good thing about therapy was that you could recognize your own toxic behaviors now, and it was clear that you were becoming reliant on your sessions with Steve. You had never liked being alone, but you had come all the way out here to learn to do just that. For your sake, you needed to learn to love being alone. It was how you had gotten into this mess to begin with.

Your phone vibrated with a call from an unknown number, and figuring it was a scam call, you silenced it.

Your house was practically in the middle of nowhere, so when the tv wasn’t blasting or you didn’t have Spotify playing some light tune, the house could get scarily quiet. But that was what you wanted...right? Harry had always been so explosive. The smallest of things could set him off and then the sound of yelling and shattering glass would rain down on you. Silence and solitude was what you wanted, needed.

Your phone buzzed again as you settled into your car, and you huffed when you noticed it was the same number. Again, you weren’t unfamiliar with scam callers so you ignored it. You noted that you needed to go grocery shopping, but you weren’t on the precipice of starvation just yet, so it could hold off for another day. By the time you got inside, your phone had started to buzz again, and with a frown, you decided to answer it.

“Hello?”

You were met with silence as you unlocked your door, and you repeated yourself, but there was no response. With a sigh, you hung up the phone. You both loved and hated coming home. It was quiet and safe and everything you had craved for years now, but the unfamiliarity of it all unnerved you. Sometimes you were just waiting for Harry to come flying through the door, screaming and breaking things. You had to remind yourself that this silence, this security, is how it’s supposed to be.

You went about making a quick meal, hopping into the shower while leaving the stove on low. When you got out, in the process of moisturizing your arms, you noticed your phone buzzing with another call. From that same number. Unease filled you as you neared it, and you hesitantly reached for it before answering.

Again, you were met with silence, and frustrated and annoyed, you simply blocked the number. A quick look through your phone revealed that you’d missed several calls from the same number while in the bathroom. Blinking with a deepening frown, you set your phone down and made your way to your kitchen. Dinner, like always these days, was quiet. You curled up on the couch with your plate while you watched some old sitcom.

The rest of the night passed as blandly as it always did. Sleep was much easier to find these days, so you had no trouble as soon as your head hit the pillow. However, just as you were on the verge, your phone buzzed with another call. This number didn’t match the previous one, but it was unknown nonetheless. With a groan, you put your phone on silent and rolled over, sleep claiming you.

“I know it’s you,” you sneered into the phone.

Unsurprisingly, you were met with the faint sound of breathing, and you clenched your jaw. You slammed the car door behind you before stomping across the parking lot.

“I know it’s you,” you quietly repeated. “Stay away from me.”

You hung up before blocking the number, the 10th number you had blocked in the past week. Every few hours or so a day, like clockwork, you got calls from an unknown number. You’d always end up blocking the number after the first few calls, but they always called again from a different one. At first, they’d say nothing, and you’d listen to silence for a few seconds before hanging up. Now, they’d taken to breathing in your ear like a creep. It wasn’t even until you blocked the 3rd number did it finally hit you.

Harry.

Harry freaking Osborn.

You felt like such an idiot for not putting it together sooner. Of course, it was Harry. Was this not the same man who threatened to hunt you down and drag you back like some animal if you ever left him? You had always equated woman beaters to cowards so you never thought he’d have the nerve to actually do it. Putting the pieces together didn’t bring you any comfort. Your filthy rich abusive ex had managed to track you down. What comfort was there to find in that?

Since that day, you hadn’t had a proper night of sleep. Your mind was constantly at war with itself on what to do. Having been down this road before, you knew the police would be no help. You’d gone to them once before, at the very beginning after the first time he’d hit you. It was your first harsh lesson that money ruled over everything. If you thought hard enough, you could still recall his hands around your throat, eyes alight with anger at what you’d tried to pull.

Still, you considered at least trying to get a restraining order but at the end of the day, that was a mere piece of paper. If Harry came to your door, it wasn’t going to stop him from hurting you, and that’s even if the whole process went through. They don’t just give restraining orders out willy nilly. You tried not to dwell on that hypothetical situation, but if he’d found your number, it would only be a matter of time before he found your address.

“Oh!”

You’d only just entered the grocery store, barely stepping into an aisle when you bumped into someone. The chips and bread in his hands went flying to the floor, and apologies tumbled from your lips. It was only after you helped him pick up what you made him drop did you realize who you’d run into.

“Dr. Rogers...hi,” you breathed.

The corner of his lips pulled into a crooked smile, head tilting to the side as his gaze fell onto you.

“We’ve discussed this before, Y/N. You’re more than welcome to call me Steve,” he told you.

You gave a nervous chuckle, nodding.

“Yeah...uh… I normally do, it just...it just slipped my mind,” you replied.

He blinked at you, eyes narrowing just a bit as he studied you. His brows furrowed in that concerned way you were used to, a silver strand of hair kissing his forehead.

“Everything okay…?”

You folded your arms over your chest, nodding with a strained smile.

“Everything’s fine,” you lied. “It’s just… It’s been a weird week. Our next session cannot come fast enough.”

You forced a light laugh, and he joined you. He placed a hand on his hip, eyes boring into your own.

“There’s a coffee shop just over there,” he gestured. “Did you want to sit and have a chat?”

You frantically shook your head.

“Oh, no. I couldn’t,” you told him. “I-.”

“I know I’m your therapist, but I want you to think of me as a confidant outside of the office too. You’re more than welcome to talk to me anytime. In fact, I encourage it,” he interrupted.

You nervously eyed him with a frown.

“Are...are you sure?”

His smile was comforting.

“This may be my job, but it’s one I chose because it’s one I enjoy. I don’t want you to feel like you’re only allowed to talk to me during our sessions,” he quietly said.

You bit your lip, and Steve continued.

“I’d hate to think that you’re bottling things up for days on end, suffering in silence because you’re just waiting to talk to me,” he confessed.

Your shoulders sagged, and you hesitantly nodded.

“...okay. I just need to get a few things for the house.”

“Okay,” he said with a smile. “You know where to find me.”

You parted ways, and a sigh escaped you. You really didn’t want to become reliant on Steve. Wasn’t the whole point of therapy to learn how to process your feelings and cope with them better? Running to your therapist every time you have a problem just seemed counterproductive. And yet, once your car was loaded up with the few items you bought, you found yourself making your way to the coffee shop.

After ordering a small drink, you easily spotted Steve at a table in the back. You noted that even outside of your sessions, he still dressed nicely. The dark button down he wore contrasted with his light hair, dark slacks making him appear taller. You felt simultaneously nervous and comforted as you settled across from him. There was a brief silence, one in which you sipped on your drink while he eyed you before finally speaking.

“So what’s on your mind?”

What a loaded question. You struggled over whether or not to tell him the truth. Your abusive ex had found you somehow and was currently harassing you. That’s not something you could just casually drop into the conversation. Besides, Steve was your therapist, not your friend. You didn’t think it fair to rope him into the drama with your ex. That wasn’t part of his job description. Right?

“Just sleepless nights,” you said.

It wasn’t a complete lie. Steve eyed you like he was waiting for you to continue, blue eyes soft.

“I’m also worried that...my past might not remain in the past.”

Once again, this wasn’t a complete lie.

“How so?” Steve hummed.

“I can’t help but wonder about what will happen if Harry finds me. He always threatened that he would if I ever left, and while I never believed him before, I just keep wondering… What if he does?”

Steve tilted his head at you, and you leaned back in your seat with a sigh.

“I’ve moved all the way out here to get away from him. I’ve isolated myself because I thought it was for the best, but it would have the opposite effect if he ever found me. I’ve never been particularly close with my family as you well know, and I’ve left all of my friends. I’m all alone here, and it’s the worst thing to be if he ever did track me down.”

Like always, you had started to ramble, and you snapped your mouth closed, embarrassment flooding through you.

“What brought all of this on?”

Steve’s eyes were sincere as he ran them over you, handsome face twisted in concern, and you glanced away.

“Just thinking,” you lamely replied, eyes on your drink now. “It’s something I’ve always thought about, sure, but it’s been more pressing as of late.”

“Well...that’s what I’m here for. You shouldn’t have to deal with these thoughts alone,” he eventually said.

“I know,” you sighed, rubbing your temples. “...but I shouldn’t become so reliant on you. The whole point of therapy is to learn to deal with these things on my own, is it not?”

Steve exhaled, leaning back in his seat as he gazed at you.

“Not necessarily. Not always,” he answered. “...but even then, until you can get to that point, it’s best to lean into your support. After all, you’ve gotta crawl before you can walk, right?”

You nodded, taking in his words.

“...and even when you’re walking, you usually need someone there in the beginning to hold your hand in case you fall. I encourage you to talk to your friends more, maybe even branch out and find some friends here, but I’m here as well. Don’t halt any of your progress because you feel like you need to be dealing with this alone. Outside help does more for your progress than you’d think.”

“I guess that does make sense. I don’t know… I just- I’d feel so bad about showing up at your office throughout all hours of the day or calling your receptionist-.”

You cut yourself off when he took out a pen and a slip of paper.

“Here,” he said, scribbling a number on it before handing it to you. “This is my personal number.”

Your eyes widened.

“Oh, I can’t-.”

“It’s fine, trust me.”

You hesitantly returned his smile, taking the piece of paper.

“Don’t hesitate to call me anytime you want to,” he told you, standing.

You joined him, fingering the note before sliding it into your pocket.

“Thank you…Steve. I don’t know if I’ll ever actually call you, but just knowing that I have the option makes me feel so much better,” you whispered.

You heard his pager go off, and you watched as he glanced at it. He let out a sigh, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say he sounded disappointed.

“I’ve got to go, but I hope you’ll use that number if you need to.”

Thanking him again, you said your goodbyes, and you watched as he exited the shop. The slip of paper felt heavy in your pocket, so you solved that by putting his number into your phone. Just as you were about to put it back into your purse, it buzzed with a call from an unknown number. Fear settled into your gut, and with a grimace, you silenced the call and blocked the number.

You were late. You were so late it was laughable to even show up at this point. Your shoes tapped against the tile as the numbers on the elevator lit up as it passed each floor. You slipped through the doors as soon as they parted, and with no mind to check in, the receptionist calling your name, you raced towards Steve’s office. You reached his door just as he opened it to step out, and the papers that he was holding scattered to the floor as you collided with him. You hadn’t even realized how fast you’d been running until you were knocked on your ass.

You could hear the heels of the receptionist as she ran over, apologizing to Steve for letting you slip past her, but he waved her off. She reluctantly returned to her desk, and you scrambled to sit up, reaching for everything that had fallen.

“I was beginning to think you’d never show,” Steve joked.

You gave a shaky laugh.

“I uh...I got caught up,” you replied through trembling lips, fingers shaking as you struggled to stack all of his paperwork.

You could feel Steve’s eyes on you, but you avoided his gaze.

“I know I’m late. Our hour is practically over, but I- I just… Um, crap.”

You had dropped the papers all over again, and you both reached for them at the same time. At least, that was what you thought. Steve’s hands covered yours, and you only just realized how badly they were shaking.

“Y/N.”

His voice was soft, exactly what you needed right now, but you couldn’t look him in the eye.

“Y/N, is everything alright?”

Your chest was tight, and you wanted to will your lips to form a yes. You wanted to tell him that everything was fine, but you couldn’t even get the words out. He called your name again, and you suddenly stood, taking the papers with you. You handed them to him as he followed your lead, still avoiding his eye.

“I’m sorry for being late, and I know that you probably have another session-.”

“I don’t,” he interrupted. “Come in.”

You glanced up from beneath your lashes as he opened the door, ushering you inside. You wrapped your arms around yourself as he shut the door behind you.

“Is everything okay?”

You turned your face away from him, unable to keep it from crumbling as you held in a sob.

“Y/N.”

The way he called your name had you freezing in place, a shiver running through you at his firm tone, authority in the one simple word. In a way, it reminded you of Harry, and you looked to him with wide eyes. Seeming to understand what he’d done, Steve sighed before sitting down, making himself appear smaller to show that he wasn’t a threat to you.

“I’m sorry,” he genuinely apologized. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. Please...sit.”

You hesitantly did so and reached out to take the tissue he offered you. You hadn’t even realized that you’d started crying.

“Now… I’m going to ask you again, and I’m begging you to please be honest with me. I’m here to help you in any way I can,” he whispered.

You wiped your face, sinking your teeth into your lip.

“It’s...Harry.”

Steve’s face was pinched with concern.

“What is it? Are you having nightmares again-?”

“No, you don’t understand. He’s calling me,” you confessed.

Steve froze, blinking a few times before his eyes widened, your words finally registering. You sniffed, fighting to hold in a sob.

“It started weeks ago, before we ran into each other that night…”

You didn’t miss the disappointment that flitted over his features, lips pressed together.

“...and I know I should’ve said something then-.”

“You should’ve called me.”

“I know! I know, but… I don’t know. I just wanted to handle this on my own,” you quietly said.

He didn’t respond, and you turned your eyes towards the window.

“Last time...I wasn’t able to get away on my own. I wanted it to be different this time. At first, I simply blocked him but he kept calling and calling from different numbers. Then I got a new phone...and eventually another, but it’s still the same. He keeps finding me,” you tearfully told him. “...and today…”

Your eyes met his, and you were comforted by the concern you saw there.

“Today I was at the police station. That’s why I was late.”

Steve straightened up at this.

“I thought that maybe I could get a restraining order or maybe they could trace the calls to show that it’s him, but the whole visit was useless. They boiled it down to petty relationship drama, and since there’s no record of his violent behavior because I never reported anything…”

You shrugged, scoffing.

“There’s basically nothing they can do. The whole visit was a waste,” you spat.

Steve heaved a sigh, and he slowly reached out towards you, leaning forward.

“I didn’t ask before, but… Is it alright if I hold your hand?”

You nodded. That was what you liked about Steve. He was always asking for your consent with just about everything, even the simplest of things, and it was such a nice contrast to Harry who used to feel like he was entitled to your body. Steve took your hand, throwing you a comforting smile as he eyed you, worried.

“I wish that you had called me,” he said.

You looked down, guilt filling you.

“I could have helped you before it ever got to this point. I have friends on the force, friends in high places who could lock this creep up if you wanted.”

“I feel like an idiot.”

Of course Steve, Dr. Steven Rogers, knew people who could help you. Of course he did! Your stubbornness had gotten you far deeper into this than necessary.

“What have I said about self deprecating language?”

“Sorry,” you murmured.

“You’re not an idiot. Don’t talk about yourself like that. You’re just a woman trying to find her strength again.”

You hesitantly nodded, and he brushed his thumb over the back of your hand.

“I want you to get rid of your phone,” he suggested.

You frowned, and he continued before you could question him.

“I’ll work on getting a new one for you. A secure one under my name.”

You frowned, not liking the idea of being so indebted to him.

“Steve, I don’t know-.”

“It’ll only be temporary. You can use it until I talk to some people and have him properly dealt with.”

Even though you weren’t keen on the idea, you reluctantly agreed.

“...and you have to promise me one thing…”

You eyed him, holding his gaze as you waited for him to continue.

“Promise me that you’ll call me the second he bothers you again,” he proposed.

Accepting the fact that your stubbornness was doing you more harm than good, you nodded. Steve seemed pleased with that, and with one last pat on your hand, he let you go. As he guided you out of your office, your phone in his hand, you felt more hopeful than you had in over a month. You felt so silly for not seeking out his help sooner, and you couldn’t deny the weight that had been lifted from your shoulders as you settled into your car.

True to his word, at your next session, Steve presented you with a new phone. It had all of your important contacts with Steve being at the top of the list. Embarrassment had flooded you as you thanked him with tears in your eyes. The week without your phone had been the most peace you’d had in a while, and you finally got some much needed rest.

“You haven’t heard anything from him, have you?” he’d asked you.

“No,” you answered, shaking your head. “Not a peep.”

He threw you that same smile that always brought you comfort.

“Good. Even if you never do, you’re always free to call me,” he’d reminded you.

Finally deciding to let your stubbornness go, you did. Talking to Steve outside of your sessions was easier than you thought it’d be. It was like talking to a friend. Sometimes you’d meet up at that same coffee shop not too far from his office, and other times you’d be putting a quick meal together while he was on the other line, listening to you ramble. You soon realized that it wasn’t just his profession that made him that way, but Steve truly was an unbiased listener. He never judged you for any steps back in your progress nor for any of your more self deprecating thoughts.

Best of all, you hadn’t heard anything more from Harry.

Not until he knocked on your door one night.

It was late when you’d heard the pounding on the wood, and having been watching tv in your room, you wondered if you imagined it. It was only moments later that you’d heard it again. Your eyes had widened, sitting up in alarm. No one knew you lived here. Not even your mailman. All of your mail collected at a Post Office box before you eventually went to pick it up. You stood, standing in your room, trembling in fear before a knock on your bedroom window had you screaming.

You didn’t hesitate to call the police, and it took longer than you liked for them to arrive. All the while, you dealt with knocking and pounding on your window and door. Back and forth, it alternated with minutes in between before stopping altogether when the sound of sirens could be heard. Unsurprisingly, and frustratingly, the police didn’t find anyone.

“Look, we’ll get this report down to the station,” the brunette had told you, not looking concerned in the least.

Frustration filled you, and you shuffled on your feet.

“Can’t you...idk, have someone stay here? Not even the whole night but just a few hours in case they come back?”

The tall man sighed, and you glanced at his badge. Officer Barnes, you noted.

“With all due respect mam, we can’t just have one of our officers sitting in your yard because someone knocked on your door-.”

“I told you-!”

“I know, I know. The windows too,” he said, sounding exasperated, and your frown deepened. “The best we can do is get this down to the station. You’re more than welcome to call us again should anyone come back.”

You crossed your arms over your chest as they left, finding no relief. You swallowed as you thought about Steve. You didn’t want to, but Harry had found you, tormenting you by knocking on your house in the dead of night. This was exactly the reason Steve had given you his number. Swallowing down your stubbornness, and with a deep breath, you called him.

He didn’t sound like he was asleep, and for that you were grateful. You would’ve kicked yourself if you had woken him up. Finally getting out why you’d called him was an awkward affair, stumbling over your words, and you felt even worse as he agreed to come over. There was no hesitation, and you couldn’t help but feel as if you were taking advantage of Steve’s generosity.

You mumbled out your address, surprised to realize how relieved you were. You couldn’t remember the last time you had trusted a man this much. Harry had made you so paranoid, but you supposed that was what therapy was for. This was why you had all those sessions with Steve. To learn to heal and to trust again.

You opened the door with a small smile when he finally pulled into your yard. He was dressed comfortably, and you felt much better about your own ratty t-shirt and leggings, but his casual attire made him no less striking.

“Thank you,” you breathed as he stepped inside.

“I was up going over paperwork when you called. I’m glad you did,” he told you.

You leaned against the door as you closed it, rubbing your arms.

“I didn’t know if I should. It’s just… He was here, Steve. Knocking on my door and window like something out of a horror movie, and the police treated it like it was nothing,” you complained.

Steve tilted his head at you with a sad smile.

“First thing in the morning, I’m going to make some more calls. Since he’s in town, it should be easy to have him put away. At the very least, a restraining order.”

Relief and hope filled you as you brushed past him.

“I really can’t thank you enough for coming over. I promise I won’t keep you long, just until I feel I can be ok being alone,” you said over your shoulder.

He followed you into the kitchen.

“Can I get you anything to drink? Eat? It’s the least I can do.”

“Some wine might be nice. You might want to pour yourself a glass too,” he suggested.

You chuckled, and he joined you, but you agreed with him nonetheless. You poured a glass for both of you, and you leaned against the counter with a sigh.

“I just don’t understand why he can’t leave me alone. Hasn’t he put me through enough?”

Steve hummed.

“From what you’ve told me, he strikes me as a narcissist. I’d bet that he doesn’t want you to move on,” he mused.

“Maybe,” you distractedly replied as you heard your phone ring. “I’ll be right back. Let me grab that super quick, it might be Nakia.”

Your phone was in your room, but by the time you reached it, it had stopped ringing. Sure enough, it was a missed call from your best friend, and you brought your phone with you to the kitchen, determined to call her back. Steve’s eyes were fond when you returned, and you shrugged.

“I need to call her back. I’ll only be a moment,” you said, swiping your glass.

“Take all the time you need.”

You made your way to the living room, taking your place on the couch as you called her back. She answered almost immediately.

“Hey, what’s up?”

She greeted you with a soft exhale.

“Uh… Harry’s...dead.”

You froze at her words, pulling the glass away from your lips. You blinked a few times, trying to come to terms with what she’d said.

“...what?”

“I just found out. I honestly didn’t know how you’d take the news, but I thought you should know.”

She was right. You yourself didn’t even know how you felt about this news. You had loved this man at one point...but he was also your abuser. This was good news...right?

“How?” you finally asked her.

She sighed.

“Apparently, he’d been missing for months-.”

“Months?”

“Yeah,” she quietly replied. “They found and identified his body today. I just saw it on the news.”

Your stomach twisted as the truth, and the meaning behind it, sank in. Just because Harry had been missing for months, it didn’t mean that he’d been dead for months. It very well could have been him harassing you like you believed. But...if they’d found and identified his body today, then there was no way it was him at your house tonight.

“Thank you,” you eventually said. “Um… I’m glad you told me.”

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’ll be okay,” you honestly replied. “I’m just a little unsure of how I feel about all of this, but I’ll call you tomorrow when I’ve slept on it.”

“Alright. Be safe.”

You said your goodbyes and returned to the kitchen with an empty glass.

“Everything okay?” Steve questioned.

Your face must have been an open book.

“Harry’s dead,” you scoffed, blinking as you still fought to process this.

Steve didn’t respond, and just like one of your sessions, he seemed to be waiting for you to continue.

“Apparently he’d been missing for months and they just identified his body today. There’s no way it could have been him knocking on my door tonight, and now...now I’m even more scared than I was before,” you confessed. “God, I can’t even fully come to terms with my feelings on this because I’m realizing that Harry might not have been the only thing I should’ve been afraid of.”

“Hey,” Steve soothingly said, nearing you. “Are you sure it wasn’t someone who got lost? Maybe they had the wrong house?”

You thought about it before shaking your head.

“No, it definitely didn’t seem like that. Oh my God,” you cried, letting your head fall into your hands.

Steve pulled you into his arms, startling you, but you eventually relaxed, the wine settling into your system nicely.

“It’s going to be alright-.”

“What if it isn’t? Because I’m the idiot who thought that Harry was the only possible danger out there, I’ve attracted another without even realizing it.”

“Hey, hey,” he soothed. “Maybe it was nothing, and maybe it was more. Either way, I’m only a phone call away. Say the word, and I’ll have an officer living in your yard if need be.”

You chuckled at that, and nodded.

“Thank you,” you said, looking at him. “I-.”

You swallowed your words when his lips met yours, soft and demanding as they moved against your own. You were stunned, and it took you a moment to realize just what was happening before you pulled away. You stared at Steve with wide eyes, hesitantly reaching up to touch your lips as you took a step back.

“Steve…”

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he breathed.

Your lips parted, a soft gasp escaping you at both his words and the fire in his gaze. It was so sudden and great that it froze you.

“Steve, I think… I think you should go,” you whispered, almost in disbelief.

He frowned at you, tilting his head just a tad as he folded his arms over his chest.

“Go? Why would I do that when you’re not feeling well?”

You opened your mouth to repeat yourself, even demand to know what he meant, but a sudden wave of nausea hit you, head feeling fuzzy. Steve caught you just as you stumbled, and you frowned, fighting to get out of his arms.

“What…?”

“You seemed really tense. I thought you could use something to take the edge off…”

You stared at him in disbelief, attempting to blink away the stars in your vision. Your legs felt like they were made of Jell-O as Steve guided you towards the living room. He deposited you on the couch, and you could hardly do anything as he laid you down, sitting beside you. His blue eyes, normally so soft and comforting, were dark with a longing you had never seen before.

“You were like a wounded little lamb when you first came to me,” he murmured, brushing his thumb over your lip. “So lost...broken… It’s because of me that you’re even halfway back together again.”

His hands moved to slowly undress you, taking his time, and your hands might as well had been air as you tried to stop him. You shuddered as the cool air in the house hit you, nipples pebbling, even more so when Steve brushed his fingers over them.

“I wanted to wrap you in my arms during that first session. Drag you back as you tried to leave, show you how a woman should be touched by a man.”

You were in a state of shock, disbelief coursing through you as you watched Steve undress. Even at his age, the man was a wall of muscle, thick bands making you swallow in fear as you hopelessly tried to tell yourself that this was a dream.

“Steve,” you whispered.

“I had to be patient. I didn’t want to scare you off, push you into the arms of another dangerous man. I had to help you heal before showing the kind of man I can be for you,” he told you, fingers on your face as he neared you again.

Your whole body felt weighed down, and you couldn’t stop your tears even if you wanted to. Your touch was light as you pressed your hands to his chest, feeling like you were going to be sick as he settled over you.

“Harry is gone. He can’t hurt you anymore, and I’m going to make sure no one ever hurts you again.”

The irony was not lost on you, but the way he said that struck something in you, and your mind traveled to the unthinkable. You didn’t get the chance to think about it some more before Steve was forcing himself inside of you. A choking noise escaped you as he filled you to the hilt, your legs spread wide to accommodate his frame. Steve released a shuddering breath, breathing through his nose, body trembling as he delighted in the feel of you wrapped around him.

It was amazing that while all of your senses felt dulled, you could feel his pulsing member inside of you so well. He surrounded you, bulky frame caging you in, and you felt like you would pass out from suffocation. Steve sighed just before his lips met yours, and your stomach clenched as he moved within you. A broken moan slipped out against your will, and Steve groaned at the sound.

“I’ll show you pleasure that you’ve never known, touch you in ways you never felt. I know how to make you happy,” he purred, his pace languid as he thrust in and out of you.

You turned your head away, the furniture of your living room blurring together from whatever he’d slipped into your drink.

“I know your deepest desires and your deepest fears. I know you better than anyone else out there…”

You hated that in a way, Steve was right. You’d bared yourself to him under the guise of trust and healing. He really did know all there was to know about you, and you hated yourself for it. You hated him for hiding his intentions so well, for taking advantage of your vulnerability and trauma. He tutted as you started to squirm beneath him.

“After all I’ve done for you...in all the ways I’ve helped you, the least you could do is give yourself to me. I deserve to reap the benefits of my efforts-.”

You gasped beneath him, legs kicking around him, but he only pressed himself more firmly against you.

“...I’ve gone out of my way to make sure you were safe, to protect you so that no more threats remained to you nor our relationship.”

“You’re crazy-.”

You cut yourself off with a yelp as he nipped at your neck, jerking in his hold as he continued to snap his hips into yours. His hands were gentle on you, a contrast to how he fucked you, his pace increasing with every passing minute. Despite the fact that you could hardly move, he wrapped his arms around you, holding you in place as the sound of your coupling filled the room, your core now wet and slick from his ministrations.

Steve seemed intoxicated, blissfully immersed in the feel of you and how you clung to him. His low groans and moans filled your ear, and you could do nothing as he covered your lips again, tongue tasting you, moaning at the taste of wine that still remained.

“My touch will never cause you harm, bringing you nothing but pleasure for the rest of our lives.”

tags: @xoxabs88xox @harryspet @readermia @opheliadawnwalker3 @nickyl316h @captainchrisstan @sebabestianstan101 @villanellevi @lokislastlove @notyourtypicalrose @coconutqueen21 @hurricanerin @hyoyeoniie @sherrybaby14 @cocoamoonmalfoy @mandiiblanche @gotnofucks @oneoftheprettynerds @doozywoozy @sapphirescrolls @threeminutesoflife @searchforanotherway @mcudarklibrary @buckybarnesplumwhore @widowsmaximoff @nerdygirl8203 @supernaturalwintersoldier @charmed-asylum @harrysthiccthighss @patzammit

#dark steve rogers #dark steve x reader #Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader

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musicfeedsmysoul12 · 3 years

Note

fic title: the girl with flowers in her bones

Izumi learns she has a Quirk age six when the weird bump on her shoulder is inspected by a doctor who cuts it open to reveal a pretty flower.

Said flower quickly changed and becomes deadly, nearly killing a nurse before it’s destroyed.

No one knows how it got there but now people know about it. At first Izumi is happy. She has a Quirk.

Then she isn’t.

“It’s a useless Quirk!” Kacchan taunts her. “Perfect for a useless girl like you! Flowers under the skin! Pathetic!”

Kacchan burns her shoulder and she goes home crying.

Later a flower develops where she’s been burned and after some quiet conversation with Inko about how her husband had left because of Izumi’s Quirkless status and Izumi had heard it, they figured it out.

The flowers bloom when someone hurts her. They bloom and the doctors do a scan revealing many more flowers all over her- some were small and no one could see them. Little hurts the doctors theorized.

They still had to be removed. Izumi has been getting slower, becoming more exhausted each day. It’s the flowers.

Izumi numbly lets it happen.

But it happens again. And again.

Flowers bloom because people keep hurting her. They turn deadly when exposed to the air.

“Freak, monster, liar-“ it’s all shouted at her by her class. Kacchan leads the charge.

His flowers are always an orange lily. Hatred.

Izumi wonders if it means him or her who hates the other. When it becomes a sweet pea, she has a feeling she knows why she is receiving a goodbye.

She stops growing flowers for him. Because she knows she will only get pain from him, because he is no longer one she believes to be a friend.

“The flowers are signs of betrayal,” she changes the classification. “I can only be hurt by those I do not think would hurt me, those I trust. Once I stop trusting or believing they will not hurt me the flowers stop.”

Her mother sobs upon hearing it. Inko then goes and terrifies the Bakugou family, promising that unless Kacchan leaves her alone Inko would go after them.

Kacchan doesn’t listen.

So Inko slaps them with a lawsuit she wins. It’s enough for Izumi to go to a new school where she sits quietly and doesn’t talk.

There people whisper still but it’s sad whispers.

“Her Quirk hurts her.”

“No, it’s people hurting her which sets off her Quirk.”

“She’s so quiet.”

Izumi just works. The only one she trusts is her mother. Inko who tries so hard not to hurt her, who is honest and open. Who gives her books on flowers and smiles.

When Inko hurts Izumi she leaves violets and lavender. And they’re always small, so small. Small hurts, being too honest with her daughter.

Izumi loves her mother for it.

Izumi grows and soon she finds herself applying for UA. She wants to be a hero and her mother frets and admits she isn’t sure if Izumi can do but the two have researched and researched and well, they think they can figure a way out. Sports festival- she just needs to beat all the other students.

She thinks she can. The money they won from the lawsuit had helped Izumi not only get into a new school but also got her into a martial arts studio. Her mother insisted.

Probably was upset with how many flowers Izumi grew from cuts and burns and bruises. Those were the bigger ones, when they were left on purpose. They pushed against the skin, looked strange.

Funny, Izumi noticed that she didn’t gain flowers sparring.

“It’s probably based on intention. When you gain flowers from bruises or cuts and they’re from people doing it to hurt you and betray you, they come as flowers. But when it’s done as a fight or a spar it’s on purpose still but it’s not a betrayal of yourself.” Her Quirk therapist theorizes.

It makes sense.

Izumi goes to UA after failing the entrance exam and ends up in 1C where she finds herself meeting a boy who is like her. Sharp and broken and hurt.

Shinsou is a friend and she finds herself chuckling at his comments.

Their friendship only blooms truly though when she meets Kacchan again. He sees her and attacks, screaming. She fights back. Shinsou speaks and stops Kacchan and Izumi looks at him, seeing something similar back.

The situation ends with Izumi in the principal’s office telling her story. She looks him in the eyes tiredly.

Kacchan is removed from UA- apparently, the lawsuit hadn’t been included in his application.

“It was when he was ten!” His mother tries.

“It still happened and you lied,” Nezu tells her. Izumi isn’t supposed to be there but she went to the office to pick up some papers.

She thinks her homeroom teacher arranged it.

“The papers are supposed to show us if we need to watch out students for anything. You lied on the application.”

Izumi doesn’t know what to think as she slides away. She hasn’t seen Kacchan in years. Hasn’t spoken to him.

Yet he still tried to attack her. He hasn’t learned anything.

Izumi has left him behind. The pain he caused ended any relationship between them.

He is a child. He can learn, if he wishes.

She feels as if she is choking when she runs into someone.

“Ah,” the person says and she blinks at a girl with red and white hair. It’s long and in a braid as she stares at Izumi. There’s a burn scar on her face and as Izumi looks into her eyes she sees the same sort of pain Izumi has.

The girl nods and leaves and Izumi stares after her in confusion.

Then she has to head to class and Shinsou and it’s a mess.

A flower blooms under her cheek as she speaks and she wonders if it’s from the shock someone attacked her at UA or it’s because she always hoped Kacchan would change the longer she left him.

“It’s not the same.” She tells Shinsou. “I was in hell until I was ten and then just isolated after.”

“It’s close,” Shinsou tells her. He touches her cheek and she closes her eyes. “It’s growing?”

“Yeah. It used to be orange lilies. It might be the same now.”

It is. It’s removed by Recovery Girl and Izumi breathes and doesn’t try to think.

She doesn’t know what to think about anything.

She thinks in a way that expelling him was to much. She understands that they lied, that they removed the evidence of the trial. But did they truly know that it counted?

Kacchan is a child and needs to learn things.

At the same time, he tried to attack her.

Her mind feels muddled and confused and Shinsou tries to help but it’s different for him. His bullies were cruel and never stopped and yet he never expected it either to stop.

You can only be betrayed by a friend.

He tries but they fight and eventually he yells that she’s worthless if she wishes to let a boy who hurts her back into UA.

She flinches and he does too.

Shinsou reaches for her but she leaves, feeling sick.

Izumi wanders UA campus after that- a week after the Kacchan incident- a week after the USJ got invaded. With Kacchan in the office the class hadn’t gone to USJ, something all of them expresses relief about.

Izumi wanders and then runs into the red and white girl again. She’s training in the gym that all students are allowed to Izumi wandered to it out of habit. Usually she and Shinsou train- Shinsou finally accepting that he needs to train his body.

He’s not with her though, and she feels her shoulder ache.

Shinsou didn’t mean it, he was angry and didn’t understand. Izumi gets it.

But it still was a hurt.

“... are you okay?” The girl asks and Izumi blinks, realizing she’s been standing in the gym staring off into space.

“I’m fine.” She says. “I got into a fight with my friend.” The girl looks at her and Izumi sighs.

“My Quirk lets me know when I’ve been hurt,” Izumi explains. “The hurts become flowers under my skin. Ever hurt, physical, emotional, mental, minor or major.” Izumi sighs.

“... you were the one Bakugou attacked, the reason we did not go to the USJ.,” The girl says calmly.

“We were friends once. He hurt me badly, and we stopped. He tried again, my mom sued him and his family and they didn’t put the trial in his transcripts. So he’s been expelled and I just… I feel bad for him. He’s hurt me but I cared for him once and is it fair that he was a child when this happened and he’s still himself a child?” Izumi sighs. “Sorry. I-“

“I have similar feelings to my brother and mother.” The girl offers. Her face is slightly blank. She looks at Izumi, cocking her head slightly. “My father is not a nice man and he’s only stopped hurting us due to blackmail my eldest brother has given. I’m under the custody of my second eldest brother. My other siblings were deemed unsuited and my mother is in a mental health institute.”

“Oh!” Izumi blinks. “You didn’t-“

“You told me.” The girl shrugs. “I’m Todoroki Shouto.”

“Midoriya Izumi.”

It’s the start of something.

From the hurt Shinsou dealt jasmine is dug from Izumi’s skin and he apologizes over and over again. She tells him it’s not okay but she understands he didn’t truly mean it.

It makes her sad still.

She and Todoroki meet from time to time in the gym, speaking. Sometimes Shinsou joins them, sometimes not. He wishes to keep his Quirk private, wishing to get into the hero course like Izumi wishes.

Todoroki is kind, Izumi finds. She’s standoffish and blunt but she’s kind.

Her story is a sad one, told over gym meetings. Her father is Endeavour and he wished to overcome All Might. He had children to force it, and the abuse he placed his family through broke her mother.

Todoroki loves her mother. She loves her dearly but cannot face her.

“I used to blame myself, thinking it might be my fault she burned me. Natsuo, my brother, he got me into therapy and I’ve learned it wasn’t. I was a child, it was not on me. And yet my mother is ill.” Todoroki explains. “I care deeply for her but… I can’t face her right now. Because I have learned it is not my fault what she did and I have to adjust.”

Her brother, her eldest brother Touya, is a different story.

“He blamed me for the abuse. Said it was all my fault, hated the fact I was a girl too. Kept going on I was a screw-up, that I was disgusting. He’s in therapy to now but… I don’t talk to him. Ever if I can help it. Natsuo says he’s getting better but he won’t make me do anything. My sister keeps trying to get us to forgive our dad. We don’t want to.” Todoroki tells her. “It’s a mess.”

Todoroki doesn’t know what to do herself. Her brother was young when he became angry, and her mother ill. Neither were fully at fault, and yet she struggles.

It’s nice to talk to someone who understands.

Their friendship grows and Izumi wonders why it feels different then from her and Shinsou.

Yet as she watches Todoroki smile, she thinks she knows.

At the sports festival, Izumi and Shinsou manage to get to the tournament. They manage to claw their way to the semi-finals, determining who will go on to compete for first.

Shinsou insults her, curses her. And then he confesses.

Izumi keeps her mouth shut and shoved him out, even as she feels the flowers begin to bloom.

She does tell him she doesn’t feel the same.

“I know,” Shinsou tells her. “It’s Todoroki. You two smile all the time around each other, you laugh and have fun.” He shrugs sadly. “I just wanted to be honest.

Izumi accepts it, and later she finds the flowers to be yellow tulips.

One-sided love.

Yet first comes the finals, where Izumi screams at Todoroki to use her fire, even as the girl refuses to use it.

“I won’t use his power!” She yells.

“It’s not his! It’s yours!” Izumi cries back.

It’s chaos and destruction and in the end, Izumi has a silver medal.

And she has a smile she treasures.

It’s not love, not yet. But it has a chance to be.

A chance they cultivate, a chance they find becoming stronger and stronger as time goes on. As she and Shinsou enter the hero course, as she fights to protect a boy she barely knows on the streets of Hosu, protecting her hero mentor as well.

It’s a chance she takes, kissing Todoroki after the final exams. Todoroki accidentally burns her in shock and feels horrible.

Izumi treasures the fact a red rose blooms under her skin.

#bnha #bnha au #fic title ask game #lesbian izuku #they're lesbians #tododeku #anti bakugou

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sailors-diary-for-elise · 3 years

Text

Reaching Out

SEE! SOMETHING OTHER THAN SMUT. Also this one is old and a bit dusty, sooooo warnings are gonna be to the best of my ability. ALSO. THIS IS ANGST AND HAS TRIGGERING THEMES. PLEASE SCROLL PAST IF THE WARNINGS ARE DISTRESSING TO YOU. I wrote this during a really difficult day and was just word vomiting tbh. I am also gonna state that this is a work of fiction and I am in no way a therapist or anything, so if something here bothers you I’m sorry this is just something I wrote mostly for myself.

Warnings: god this is painful but here we go. Reader is depressed and has anxiety, mentions of self-inflicted injuries (she punches a mirror...repeatedly-), blood, panic attacks, it takes a few of the members to restrain the reader so if you’re uncomfortable with that please don’t read this, this is honestly just a hard read imo so please read with care. Also, the reader hates herself and just doesn’t really think highly of herself at all sooooo yeah-

It was the fourth time this month. The fourth argument that could’ve and should’ve ended differently.

You’d come out of your room to find San off at practice or on some work related schedule, spend the entire day outside trying to break a horrible cycle in your mind, just to disappear again once he returned home. It was frustrating you both and causing a serious strain in your relationship.

On San’s side, he couldn’t understand why it was that you would fight against him trying to get you to come out of your room when you spent the entire day alone. Then there was his frustration when you would complain about never seeing him and yet would disappear and avoid him when he was available. To San, it didn’t make any sense. All he wanted to do was spend time with you and support you, but it seemed as though you were determined to shut him out. He watches you storm off to your bedroom, running a hand through his hair as he tries to recall the last time he’d come back from a schedule and had a nice quiet evening that didn’t end in you both screaming at each other. When he can’t, San grabs his jacket and walks out of the apartment with his phone and keys, planning on spending the night at the dorms so that you can have some space to cool off. Once he gets in his car, he quickly dials Hongjoong’s number, pulling out of the parking garage of your complex and letting out all of his frustrations and concerns.

As he drove, San had no way of knowing how much you hated yourself for what was happening between you both.

What San didn’t know was that your depression and anxiety had been spiraling lately due to the pressure that had been placed on your shoulders from not only your work but from being the girlfriend of an idol that had become so famous. He didn’t know that every day you were terrified that, now that his future was so bright and secure, he’d no longer want you. That he’d leave you just like so many before had done, and that he’d realize you were no longer something of use to him. And finally, how you criticize every minute of your life, finding ways that you are failing even when you’ve done nothing but your best. It came to the point that waking up from dreams was physically painful, because you could control a dream and guarantee the people you love never turned their backs on you. San didn’t, or rather, couldn’t know this. Because to know this would mean you would have to tell him. And no one should have to bear this burden but you, and there was always that small part of you that was terrified of having your feelings invalidated.

Your whole life people have toyed with you, accepting your depression only when it was convenient to them and berating you once the curtains fall. Some even went as far as to weaponize your emotions, tearing you down in an argument with something that was the equivalent to the beating heart in your chest. Yes they would apologize and you would eventually forgive them because people make mistakes. But the thing about words is that once they leave someone’s mouth, the damage is already done and there’s no amount of remorse or forgiveness that can repair it. That’s where you are now.

You slam the door shut, leaving all the lights in your room turned off, your head pounding after the screaming match you and San had just finished (rather, you ran out on and barricaded the door so he wouldn’t see you cry) and your face stained with tears. Not a sound left you as you curled up on the bed, biting your fist as a punishment for your body's betrayal of emotions. All it would take was one minute of silence and the entire apartment would be able to hear how you were feeling. In all honesty, you didn’t want San to see you cry. Because in your mind, you didn’t deserve to cry. You were the one who picked a fight. You're the one who made unfair accusations, using his career and passions as weapons against him. You were the one that hurt him in the same ways that had been done to you, falsely claiming that it was to “beat him to it and strike first.”

The front door slams shut, and you work quickly. You unbarricade the door and peek out, making sure no one is there. Dashing across the living space, you reach the spare bedroom and lock the door, not seeing the need for such extreme measures as earlier. You then sit with your back to the door, listening for the sign of San’s safe return from the store. Your butt has just about gone numb when this occurs, the front door shutting softly alerting you instantly. You rise from your position, albeit a little slowly due to your cramped muscles, and shuffle to the bed. A knock sounds, and a decision has to be made.

“Y/N? I know you’re awake. Can you come to bed? You and I both know that neither of us can sleep alone anymore.” San mumbles through the door. You hear shuffling, and you hold your breath thinking he might unlock the door. You’re not sure though, whether you’re holding your breath in hope or fear. But all you hear is a thud, indicating San sitting down. “Look, we don’t have to talk. You don’t even need to look at me, it just feels better for both of us if I’m holding you through the night, because at the end of the day, we still love each other, right?”

San’s cheeks are marked with tear streaks, eyes red and puffy as he waits for any sign of confirmation from you. He loves you more than anything else, so much so that he’d give up everything for you, and needed to hear that you still loved him as well. He holds his breath, hands covering his face while he waits for you to show him a sign that you’re even listening. That you’re even there.

You tip-toe over to the door, gently crouching down in front of it and rest your fingertips lightly on the wood, near where his shoulder is supposed to be. It’s cold and unyielding, but this is the bravest you’ll ever be. You hear a sigh on the other side, almost as if he can sense your presence.

“You know, you don’t have to keep it all in. From the first moment I saw you, I knew that there was so much going on in your life that it’d take time to get you to trust me. And I still want that. I want to know what’s going on in your life again. I want to hold you as you're crying again. And I want to repay you for all the times you’ve helped me.” San whispers, his voice showing how much of a toll this has taken on him. “I know a lot has changed, I travel a lot, and it’s harder for us to go anywhere without me being recognized. But I promise you that my feelings for you, the amount of love I feel for you, it’s all still there. If anything, I love you even more now than before. I don’t want to lose you Y/N. I want to keep fighting for us and I just need you to reach out to me, show me you want this too. Open the door, even if it’s just a crack, and let me help heal those open wounds. Yes there will be scars and yes it will take time, but I’m willing to wait.”

At this point you have tears streaming down your face as you withdraw your hand. You don’t move though, despite your broken mind willing you to do so, you stay rooted in your spot. Sniffles break through the other side, showing how much San is hurting. You feel as though there’s a war going on inside of you, your heart begging you to open the door and stop this madness, but your mind resolute on keeping this wall up.

“I. Can’t.” you croak out, bringing your trembling hand to your lips and nibbling your thumbnail as you rise slowly. “They were right, I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve you.”

“What? Who told you that?” San questions, confusion swirling in his head as he struggles to better understand where this was coming from. Standing, San presses his hands to the door, trying to open it only to find it locked. “Love, talk to me.”

“All I’ve been doing is hurting you, and I’m sorry. ” You whimper, your mind screaming at you to shut-up and not give away anything while your heart, your very being, is begging to be set free and allow him back in. “I, I love you, San.” And with that you rise, walking towards the bathroom attached to the room. You close the door, locking it and turning to the mirror to see your disheveled state. Tears stain your cheeks, your eyes have bags under them, and your hair is greasy and a mess from the lack of effort on your part to take care of yourself.

Thoughts swirl and distort your reflection, harsh words clouding your mind. Some of the words surface from your past, some are from deep within you stemming from your lack of forgiveness for yourself. You don’t deserve forgiveness or a second chance. You don’t deserve him caring for you. You’re toxic. You do nothing but hurt him. Toxic. Toxic.

You start screaming, starting in your gut and ripping out through your mouth, scaring the shit out of San who begins pounding on the door. You hear him calling out to you, but it’s muffled in your head as you continue to sob and scream at your reflection, running your hands through your hair before tugging on it out of frustration. The longer you look at yourself, the worse the feeling in your gut gets as the harsh words continue to tear you apart, worsening with each passing moment. With one last scream you pull your arm back and punch the mirror, desperate to feel something other than the all consuming self-hatred. And it works.

There’s a crack on the mirror with droplets of blood in the center. You bring your trembling hand into view, noticing your knuckles slightly bloodied and cut. The pain replaces all of the noise in your head, if only for a moment, and you become entranced by it. Raising your fist again, you punch the mirror once, twice, three more times before stopping to look at your handy work. The crack has grown and your hand is bleeding steadily, a couple of pieces of glass stuck in your knuckles. You’re ashamed of what and who you’ve become and raise your fist again when the door breaks down.

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!” San shouts, restraining your flailing and screaming form as tears stream down your face. Four pairs of hands are pulling you out of the bathroom, with San’s arms wrapped tightly around your waist as he pulls you on the bed. He immediately starts shushing you, whispering into your hair as he wraps his legs around you as well, restricting you so the others can clean you up and call an ambulance if need be. At this point though, he doesn’t need to as you’ve gone completely limp, sobbing into his neck loudly as the emotions you’ve kept hidden flood out in a wave that swallows you whole. “Shh baby, it’s okay. We’re here now and we’re not leaving you. I’ve got you, we’ve got you. It’s okay, it’s okay.” His voice is trembling, absolutely terrified by what he’s just experienced. It’s lucky that Hongjoong, Yunho, and Seonghwa arrived when they did or he might have been too late, having planned on coming to help San piece back together your relationship. It took Yunho and Seonghwa to break down the doors, and all four of them carried you out of the bathroom so you wouldn’t hurt yourself or them.

Soon, you run out of energy and are left whimpering and quivering in San’s hold, slowly coming to your senses as you hear running water, hushed murmurs, and the cabinet mirror (or what’s left of it) being opened in search of something. When the realization sets in that San, Hongjoong, Seonghwa, and Yunho have seen you at your worst, your chest tightens and your breathing becomes irregular which are the first signs of a panic attack. Something San was familiar with but hadn’t seen happen in some time.

“No no no no.” San repeats, noticing the changes in your behavior and looking towards the bathroom. “Hongjoong! It’s getting worse!”

Immediately, footsteps can be heard heading in your direction, and a gentle face appears in the corner of your eye. Hongjoong slowly reaches forward, grasping the hand that had begun curling in on itself to the point of almost drawing blood and pulling it away from your chest.

“Sweetie, grab my hand and squeeze that instead. You won’t hurt me, I swear.” Hongjoong whispers, slowly working his nimble fingers between your clenched ones. It comes as a surprise to him when, instead of resisting, your hand flies open into a rigid position. “Shh… it’s okay sweet-heart. How about this. Follow this.”

Your hand is placed on a firm and warm chest, a slight bump hitting your palm and drawing your attention to the pattern. It’s his heartbeat. Hongjoong’s pulse creates a rhythm in your head, distracting you from your fears and disdain towards yourself momentarily while Seonghwa and Yunho both return to the room, one holding medical supplies and the other holding a bowl with warm water and a towel. Crouching in front of you, Seonghwa notices the hand on Hongjoong’s chest is the one that’s injured, glancing at San who is fighting back tears as he strokes your hair.

“Y/n-ah. We have to clean your hand. Put your hand on San’s chest, follow his heartbeat.” Seonghwa says in a firm yet kind tone. At this point, you’ve lost almost all self-awareness, too exhausted to fight anyone as you nod partially, removing your hand from Hongjoong’s chest to place on San’s. “No sweetie. The other hand.” Seonghwa instructs, a heartbroken smile crossing his face at the sight of you behaving like a toddler who skipped their nap. You look confused, bringing your hand to your face to inspect it, finding the streaks of blood and bits of glass as a few tears trickle down your face.

You’re not sure how long it takes for Seonghwa to properly clean your hands, or when you got changed into one of San’s shirts that fits like a dress, but as you’re lied down on the bed with San, who’s watching you intently to make sure any slight changes on your face are caught immediately, you find yourself in an almost numbed mind-frame. Too exhausted and confused to comprehend anything around you.

Your eyes slowly close, the occasional tear slipping out only to be swiped gently away by San. San, the last thing you see before you fall into a dreamless sleep. And you are blissfully unaware of what’s to come in the morning.

As you snore softly in San’s grasp, your chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, Yunho leaves the room to clean up the mess that has been left behind with Seonghwa following closely behind, most likely to comfort the younger boy. Hongjoong reaches forward to brush hair out your eyes and slowly strokes your cheek. Who knew such a small body could take this much pain? he wonders to himself, not even beginning to understand what caused you to struggle so much and break down so devastatingly. And that’s the only way to describe your attack. Devastating.

Like a tsunami, you receded from social outings and even your true love San, and once they realized what was happening and why you’d “changed” the wave had already hit. But his main question was voiced by San.

“Hyung.” San rasps out, looking up at Hongjoong with tears streaming down his face. “Why-or how did this happen? What caused this? What are we-what am I supposed to do?”

San’s breathing becomes labored, almost as if the weight of the situation has sat fully on his chest. He chokes on a sob, looking at you in your angelic state while pressing a gentle and wet kiss to the top of your head while crying. He clutches you to his chest, rocking slightly and burying his face in your head. Hongjoong panics, thinking he’ll wake you but settles once realizing how exhausted you must be. “Why would she keep this from me?”

“San-ah, I honestly don’t have the answer to that.” Hongjoong mumbles, holding his own tears back with a few deep breaths before looking at the pair of you. He honestly considered Ateez his family, and you became his little sister that he felt he needed to protect from the world. If only he’d realized sooner how much damage the world had already done to you. “But I do know one thing. Now more than ever, she needs us.”

San looks at his hyung and leader, absolutely wrecked from the storm of emotions that flowed between you two. “How?” he croaks out.

“I’m not sure. But what I do know is that the storm hasn’t gone and that this is only the beginning of our journey.” Hongjoong places a hand on your cheek and his other on San’s hand, squeezing slightly in hopes of reassuring the younger boy. “I see how much you need her San. And how much she needs you. She’s scared San. More so than any of us right now. Which is why we have to stay with her no matter what. No matter what she might say or do to scare us off, we have to fight through it all and show her we are here for her. Because if we don’t.” Hongjoong’s voice cracks, revealing his true emotions and the toll this whole ordeal has taken on him. “We might lose her forever.”

San sits quietly, shaking slightly from the silent tears that are being shed and pulling you closer to his chest if that was even possible, crying himself into a slumber much like you did moments prior. Hongjoong rises, tucking both of you in like he would an upset child, and walking into the bathroom. The scene that awaits him is what finally breaks his own dam of tears, collapsing next to Seonghwa and Yunho who are both crouched down. They’ve hunched over, scrubbing the white tiles of your blood and throwing glass shards away in a paper bag. Upon noticing Hongjoong, Yunho drops what’s in his hands, embracing his leader and best friend. His tears fall as well, the sight of someone as strong as Hongjoong breaking down terrifying him.

Seonghwa wipes the few stray tears before rising, quickly finishing the task of cleaning before ushering the two broken boys out of the room. He sits Hongjoon and Yunho down, pulling out a paper and pen and titling it “Y/n’s Healing.”

“We’ll make a plan, and take this journey one step at a time. Until Y/n’s finally healed.” Seonghwa states, immediately writing steps and plans he’s already come up with in his head. And so the journey begins.

#ateez angst #san angst #choi san angst #san x reader #hongjoong angst #kim hongjoong angst #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa angst #park seonghwa angst #seonghwa x reader #yunho angst #jeong yunho angst #yunho x reader #ateez x reader #tw: depression #tw: self harm

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emeraldiis · 3 years

Text

Enough Trust for Us Both

I’ve written a new fic, this time it’s Bucky x Reader! Read it on AO3 here.

Word Count: 3.8k

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Contains: fluff and smut, phone sex

You’re going crazy. You are going absolutely insane, and it’s all Bucky’s fault. Stupid, sexy, oblivious Bucky. Sure, you two have the perfect relationship in all other regards. He’s open with you, trusting you to hold him through the night to calm any nightmares, and he keeps you safe. Four months of him hovering behind you like an overprotective parent may have been annoying to some, but you love it. It makes you feel cared for. And you know he loves you, because he says it about forty times a day.

There’s just one tiny, itsy bitsy problem. Bucky won’t touch you. Well, that’s not true. He cuddles you, holds your hand, gives you chaste kisses whenever you do something to make him smile. But he won’t touch you. The kisses never go beyond pecks on the lips, and his hands never wander below your waist. And god dammit, you don't understand why. You’re horny, for fuck’s sake.

You know that you’ve been touchy with him lately, but you can’t help it. The sexual frustration increases tenfold when he grabs your hands with his strong ones, or wraps his fingers around your hips to pull you in for a kiss. You swear your panties are constantly damp around him, and more than a few times you’d had to excuse yourself to go change.

But you haven’t made any moves, scared of being too bold. He’s come so far with you, opened up so much, and you’re afraid that being too forward will scare him off. Still, a girl has needs, and you’re not above dropping a few...hints.

Bucky walks into your apartment with heavy footsteps, nearly slamming the door behind him. You jump, whipping around on the couch to face him, and watch as he winces. “I’m sorry, doll. Sometimes I forget how strong this stupid thing is.” He flexes his metal hand, frowning at the silver digits.

You tsk and shake your head, trying hard to ignore the arousal blooming in your stomach. Every part of him is attractive, you just can’t help but stare. From his shaggy hair, to those absolutely sinful thighs that you want to ride into the sunset. “It’s okay, babe,” you sigh wistfully, then look at him with pleading eyes. “I missed you today, can we go cuddle?” If you can’t get any action, then maybe just some good old fashioned affection would calm your nerves. Doubt it.

With a chuckle, Bucky strides over to the back of the couch with those long legs and leans over to kiss your cheek. “Of course, doll. Just let me go shower first, and I’ll meet you in the bedroom.”

Nearing falling over yourself in your enthusiasm, you give Bucky a winning smile and race to the bedroom, eager to get under the covers and get warm. As you slide into bed, you hear the shower turn on across the hall, and let your mind wander. Bucky’s muscled body fills your head. Tight abs flexing under streams of water, those metal fingers brushing across his skin, soap running down his chest all the way down to his cock. You’ve seen it before, but only once. Bucky had come home run ragged from an intense mission, and had been too tired to argue when you insisted on bathing him yourself. Even with just one glance while he was soft, you could tell Bucky was huge. He was thick, and imagining that inside of you nearly makes you moan out loud.

You’re so caught up in your fantasies that you fail to hear the water stop running, and end up startling again when Bucky enters the room. “Doll, you’re jumpy today,” Bucky says, blue eyes filled with concern. “Is everything okay?”

“I’m great!” You answer a little too quickly, trying to ignore the uncomfortable wetness seeping into your panties. You’re not wearing any pants--you usually don’t, when Bucky’s gone--and you know that Bucky would be able to feel how turned on you are if his hands go anywhere near there. ‘Which they won’t,’ you think to yourself in disappointment.

Bucky eyes you skeptically, thick eyebrows furrowed, while you try not to drool over his still-dripping form. He’s shirtless, wearing only a pair of red and black checkered pajama pants that are just one size too small. If you squint, you can just barely see the outline of his cock pressing against the fabric, and your eyes nearly roll and you realize that he’s probably not wearing underwear. Before you can work yourself up again, Bucky shakes his head at you, accepting your white lie, and gestures for you to slide over. You eagerly oblige, ready for some quality time with your boyfriend.

Despite your innocent act, you have a devious plan in the works. It had come to you the second he walked out of the shower looking irresistible. You’d decided that two could play at that game, and maybe he just needs you to seduce him. It’s bolder than anything you’d typically try, but maybe Bucky just hasn’t realized how badly you want him yet. Well, you were going to make it obvious for him.

When Bucky eases under the covers next to you, you purr happily and guide him onto his back, head resting comfortably in the pillows. You lie on your stomach and swing one leg over his hips, then throw your arm around his shoulder, effectively splaying yourself out on top of him. Bucky huffs out an amused laugh and wraps his human arm around your back. “Miss me that much, huh?” He says, voice soft and low. The weight of his arm feels nice draped across you like that, but you crave more.

You can’t help the shiver that forces its way down your spine at his deep voice speaking so closely to your ear. “Mhm,” you mumble. “Need to feel you.”

Cold, vibranium fingers card through your hair, and you don’t even try to suppress the moan that bubbles up. If you were going to properly seduce Bucky, you couldn’t hold anything back. “Well, I’m here, doll, feel me all you want.” His human hand grips your shoulder possessively, and the message is clear. ‘You’re mine, and I’ll keep you safe.’

At that, your hips rock involuntarily, and you freeze when you realize that the wet spot on your panties has managed to make contact with the bare skin of Bucky’s stomach. That was a little further than you had intended to take this scheme, and you shift away, praying that Bucky hadn’t noticed.

To your dismay, Bucky rockets up from the bed like a cannon, immediately scrambling to the other side of the room like you had burned him. You start to turn away in embarrassment, then notice the wild look in his wide eyes. Bucky’s terrified. But why?

Seeing the bewildered look on your face, Bucky pauses in his frantic movements, then slowly slides down the wall and comes to a rest seated on the floor. His breathing pattern stutters until it settles into the slow and deliberate one his therapist taught him to stifle panic attacks. Regret sinks into your chest like a thick cloud. Christ, you had really messed up this time. “Baby,” you say softly, voice dripping with worry.

Your boyfriend looks up from the carpet, and tries to give you a reassuring smile. “I-I’m, I’m sorry,” he manages. His normally strong voice cracks, and your heart splits. “It’s not you, I just…” He fumbles for the words, and you keep quiet, pulse high while you await his explanation. “Doll, it’s hard enough for me to control myself when you’re all up on me like that, but I’m just a man, and when you-” Bucky shakes his head frantically, eyes dropping back to the floor. “You just can’t be tempting me like, okay, babe?” His head falls into his hands.

Wait, what? Somehow, you’re even more confused. “Bucky, what are you talking about? You don’t have to ‘control yourself,’ I’m your girlfriend. Hell, I’d be upset if you weren’t sexually attracted to me!” Your voice is rising in volume, but you can’t help it. All these months spent taking cold showers, and he wanted to fuck you the whole time? “Jesus, Buck. I was all over you today because I wanted you to lose control. This entire time we’ve been together I just thought, I dunno, that I wasn’t attractive enough for you?” You can’t mask the hurt in your voice.

At that, Bucky’s eyes widen and he raises his head to look back up at you. “Baby doll, no, you’re the sexiest damn thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. I just...I don’t want to hurt you. If I lose control like that and let myself go, who knows what could happen? I could relapse, I could seriously hurt you. You saw when I came inside today! I almost broke your door without meaning to, I can’t put you at risk just for my own pleasure.”

Anger swells up inside of you again, and you rise from the bed to stalk towards Bucky. When you reach his place on the floor, you sink to your knees and stare daggers at him. “Your own pleasure? What about mine? Bucky, this isn’t just about you. I have needs, too.” Bucky looks away in shame, and the guilty expression in his eyes manages to cool your temper. You gently take his face in your hands and pull him to look at you. Now that you’ve come back to yourself, you feel guilty for being selfish. You chew on your lips anxiously. “Hey, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have gotten mad like that, I know this isn’t easy for you. But Bucky, if you want me, then I’m yours. I know you won’t hurt me, I trust you.”

Bucky pulls away from you, lips screwed up in a pained frown. “No, I’m sorry. It’s just too dangerous.”

You fall back onto your butt, sighing, and try to think. “Okay, well what if we worked up to it?”

That earns you an intrigued look. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” you start, mind racing as a plan hatches. “What if we started off with something low risk, like phone sex. You could stay at the Avengers tower, I could stay here. How can you hurt me if we’re on different sides of the city?”

“Phone sex?”

Oh, right. Different era. “It’s where we call each other on the phone and get off together. If you really don’t want to try, you can say no, but you deserve pleasure. We’ve both been stressed lately, this can be a good thing.” You try to keep your tone casual, giving Bucky the chance to relax from the brief argument. You can see the wheels turning in his mind, and though he’d never admit it, his cheeks flush just the slightest bit red.

“Okay,” he whispers, brushing back a piece of stray hair from his face and taking a steadying breath.

Your eyes follow the movement of his hand as what he said sinks in. “Really, you’re okay with it?”

“Yeah,” Bucky replies, making an attempt to smile at you. “Just...can we do this slow? It’s been a long time.” He still looks nervous, and you almost want to back off. To tell him to forget it, that you were just being selfish. But it’s not just you that he’s denying pleasure to. Bucky’s suffering, too, and you know that intimacy would be a huge step forward, so you push on.

You grin brightly at him, then stand, offering your hand to help him up, too. After hesitating for a brief moment, Bucky takes your hand and lets you pull him to his feet. He stands, towering over you, and you realize that you’re so tiny compared to him. His worries absolutely held merit; he could crush you so easily, especially with those rippling muscles that you’re always staring at. But you’re not scared of him, you never have been. Bucky has never been anything but gentle towards you, and you know that even The Winter Soldier would not lay a hand on you. Bucky would never allow that to happen, you trust him.

You just wish he could trust himself that much, too.

It’s been weeks since you and Bucky’s conversation, and you’re beginning to think he’s forgotten about it. That, or he’s just pretending that he doesn’t remember in order to avoid a stressful situation. The latter was probably more likely, and you decide not to push it. Maybe you’d been asking for too much. So you put a lid on your desires, and acted like everything was fine for Bucky’s sake, even as disappointment dampened your moods. And when he left for yet another mission, you began to accept that maybe he just wasn’t ready. You can live with that.

Your phone rings, and you hoist yourself off the couch, pausing the movie you’d been watching to trudge over to your phone. When Bucky was away on missions, calls were never anything good. He’d usually send texts to reassure you that things were going well, but he always saved bad news for phone calls. It was a nice gesture, but it just made you associate them with misery.

Steeling yourself, you click ‘answer,’ and force out a cheerful greeting despite the anxiety twisting your stomach.

“Hey, doll.” Bucky’s voice is gruff, and he sounds exhausted. Your hands twitch, wanting to reach for him.

“Hi,” you reply. “Everything going okay?”

A groan floats through the speaker, and you sigh, knowing that your instincts were correct. “I wish, it looks like I’ll have to stay another night in this stupid safe house. We think our cover might’ve been blown and Stark wants to lay low before trying to extract me.” You can hear the apology in Bucky’s tone; he doesn’t need to say it.

You want to scream and throw your phone. Another night away from your lover, spent lying awake worrying that this time he wouldn’t make it home safe. Another night of counting the seconds until he’s back in your arms, and you can kiss away the stress of his mission. You knew what you were signing up for, dating an Avenger, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t hard sometimes. Still, you need to keep it together. For Bucky. “It’s okay, just stay safe, alright? I need you to come back to me in one piece.”

Bucky mumbles his assent, and you hear shuffling on the other end, presumably him getting more comfortable. You do the same, and make your way back to the couch so you can sit down and talk to him. “At least it’s just me here,” Bucky says. “This would be a hell of a lot more irritating if I had to put up with Sam’s chatter for another day.”

With a snort, you flop onto the couch and lean back. “Don’t be too hard on him, he means well.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky grumbles. He pauses, and you hear a shaky inhale before he speaks again. “What’re you wearing?”

Your eyebrows shoot up. Well, this was unexpected. “One of your shirts, why?”

“No pants?”

“You know me, pants are kind of against my moral code.”

Bucky chuckles on the other line while you wonder where this is going. “Yeah, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.” Another pause. “Which panties do you have on?”

Oh. Oh. Your heart speeds up in excitement as you start to realize what’s going on. “Buck, are you wanting to…?” You don’t finish your sentence, letting your silence speak for itself.

“Um, I think so. If you don’t mind?” Bucky says, voice rising a bit in pitch as it tends to do when he gets nervous.

You’re quick to reassure him, not wanting to screw this up when you’ve been dreaming about it for months. “Yes, yeah!” You blurt out. “I just wanted to make sure we were both on the same page here.” You tug at your bottom lip with your teeth while you think about how you want this to go. “Hold on, lemme move to the bedroom.”

“Okay.” Bucky’s voice has gotten raspier, and it sends a gush of arousal into your panties. You rush to the bedroom, legs more than a little shaky from excitement. You hop onto the bed and settle back into the pillows, putting your phone on speaker and setting it beside you on the sheets. “You still haven’t told me which panties you’ve got on,” Bucky prompts, sounding a little unsure.

“The black ones,” you answer. “They’re the ones that have the lacing around my ass.”

Bucky growls his appreciation at your response. “Those are my favorite.” You beam. Now that he’s finally expressing his attraction to you, you feel like the sexiest woman in the world.

“Your turn to tell me what you’re wearing.” Your fingers tug at the hem of your underwear, itching to dive inside and start touching yourself. But you wait patiently, wanting to take things slow like Bucky had asked.

“Just my briefs. The dark blue ones that you said look nice,” Bucky says. He goes quiet, and you remember that phone sex was a foreign concept to him just a few weeks ago. You can picture his uncertain expression. His eyes always narrowed in a cute little squint, and his lips would purse in a way that made you want to kiss him breathless.

Taking the lead, you shimmy your panties down your legs until they’re completely off. “I’m taking my underwear off now. Do you want to touch yourself?”

Bucky inhales sharply. “Yeah.”

“Do it. I will, too.” You bring your fingers down to your dripping pussy, absently wondering if you should’ve laid down a towel before starting. It’s too late now, though. You slide one finger across your folds, humming softly at the pleasure.

There’s rustling on the other end, and you close your eyes to imagine Bucky pulling down his briefs, thick cock springing free. You think about running your tongue up the leaking head, and your core cramps involuntarily.

“Doll…” Bucky breathes. You hear a slick sound--did he always bring lube with him on missions?-- and then a steady rhythm of slow strokes.

“Does it feel good?” You ask, and bring your thumb up to rub at your clit. A small whimper escapes your throat. There’s no reason to try to stay quiet; this is for Bucky, and you want him to hear that you’re enjoying yourself.

“Y-yeah,” he grits out. “Tell me what you’re doing.”

“I’m touching my clit, wishing it was your fingers on me. I wanna touch you so bad.” There’s a whine to your voice, and your fingers speed up.

“I wish I was there,” Bucky says. “Fuck, I bet you look so good right now. I don’t even know how many times I’ve gotten off to the thought of licking that pretty pussy.”

A gasp tears its way from your throat. You never knew Bucky had such a mouth on him, and you briefly think about how many girls he’d talked out of their skirts before the war. You turn your head to the side, burying your nose in Bucky’s shirt and inhale deeply. His scent makes you dizzy with need, and you abandon your clit to dip two fingers into yourself. There’s no need for preparation—you’re soaked—and you easily slide the digits past your opening to reach the most sensitive spots. “I’ve got two fingers inside me now,” you moan. “Wishing they were yours.”

The strokes on the other end speed up, and Bucky curses. “Shit, doll. You’re driving me crazy, here.”

Bucky’s moans are the hottest thing you’ve heard in your entire life. Nights spent fantasizing about how he’d sound in bed didn’t even come close to the real thing. His ragged pants on the other end of the line have you edging closer and closer to your orgasm, and you begin to ramble mindlessly. “Bucky, baby, I need to feel you. I want you here with me, I wanna watch you cum.”

“You know we can’t--”

“I don’t care,” you whine. “I’ll use Stark’s handcuffs to keep you restrained, you can’t hurt me if you’re all tied up. Please, baby, I just need you.” You know that you’re rambling, but you don’t care, it feels too good. Your fingers move faster and faster, chasing your high.

A startled moan echoes through your speaker. “Oh, fuck, stop talking. Please, I can’t--” Bucky’s voice is tight, strangled, but it only encourages you to push him further.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Being tied up while I ride you?”

That’s the last straw for Bucky. The rhythm of his strokes stutters, then comes to an abrupt halt as he chokes out a high pitched whine of your name. Hearing his orgasm pushes you into your own, and you claw at the sheets with your free hand. Bucky’s name tumbling from your lips while your hips arch up into your hand, everything clenching and then releasing into bliss.

You lie in silence for a few minutes, your breathing mixing in with Bucky’s as you both come down. Finally, you break the silence, feeling a bit embarrassed now that pleasure’s no longer clouding your judgement. “I-I’m sorry. I got a little carried away.”

“What?” Bucky replies. “No, that was, that was really good. Were you serious about wanting to try restraining me?”

You swallow tightly. To be honest, it was kind of a spur of the moment fantasy, born from reckless pleasure. “Uh, only if you want. I definitely should’ve cleared it with you before bringing it up.”

Bucky is quick to reassure you. “No, doll. At the moment, I only really saw it as a hot fantasy, but now that I’m thinking about it...it could actually work.”

You sit up in bed, not able to believe your ears. God, you aren’t even sure if you’d be able to handle that kind of control over Bucky. You might just melt the second you lay eyes on him. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Bucky says. “We’d have to use something that could hold me, but I’d feel better about not hurting you if I was handcuffed.”

A dizzying rush of excitement washes over you. “Fuck, okay. Let’s talk about it more when you get back, yeah? You need to focus on getting home safe.”

“You’re right. Thank you for being patient with me, I know you could easily find some guy you didn’t have to jump through all these hoops for.” Bucky’s laugh is self deprecating, and you shush him.

“Shut up, you’re perfect. I’d jump through as many hoops as it takes to call you mine for the rest of my life.” And you really would. You’re head over heels for this man, and it isn’t just the post-nut bliss talking. “Just come back home to me and I’ll show you just how much I’m willing to do you.” You pause. “For you. Do for you.”

This time, the chuckle that Bucky lets out is genuine, and your heart swells. “Okay, doll. I’ll be home in a day or two and you can do me all you’d like.”

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky imagine #fluff and smut #marvel #mcugifs #tfatws #the winter soldier #fanfiction

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kaimelia · 3 years

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enough for you (ch 4)

a/n: a bit. of a transition chapter so not particularly exciting but the type of conversation I love and also maggie and amelia <33333

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Her phone felt heavy in her hands, and she was sitting outside on the porch swing. The air was cold, far colder than she would've expected for late April, so she wrapped her cardigan around her body tightly.

She left a voicemail to Addison, informing her about what happened but was unwilling to return any calls. She had only responded to a text from Charlotte asking if she was sober, to which she only responded 'yes.'

Her phone buzzed with an email, and she frowned at it. She and Violet were never particularly close, so seeing the older woman's name on the screen was completely unfamiliar at this point. Amelia clicked on the notification.

Hey, I know we never stay in touch, but Addison mentioned how things have been rough, and I thought I would send this along. We're all here for you, Amelia.

Attached was a list of names, which Amelia soon realized was a list of therapists. More specifically, ones who specialized in addiction nearby. She took a deep breath.

It had been four days since Link proposed, since the wedding, since she felt her entire world collapse around her, and she still hadn't spoken to him. He hadn't made any attempt to see Scout, which was probably the most upsetting part about it.

A quick google search allowed her to narrow down the list of therapists, too old, too young, too aggressively masculine, too many sunset photos on Facebook. Until there was one name left, and she was dialing the number, and before she knew it, she had a virtual session the next day.

A car pulled into the driveway, and Amelia glanced up to see Maggie jumping out of the car and running towards her. "Amelia," she muttered, throwing her arms around her sister's neck. "Why didn't you tell me? I wouldn't have gone; I should've been here for you." Amelia simply shrugged.

"It was the happiest day of your life, Maggie; I didn't want to ruin that. Mer's been here for me."

"Have you talked to him?"

"Where's Winston?"

"Amelia, are you okay? I mean, this isn't just something you can ignore; these past few months have been hell for you, Amelia; why didn't you tell me that things weren't fine with Link?" Amelia sat back down on the bench, placing her phone on the armrest.

"I don't even know, I don't know what I'm feeling or what's happening. I haven't talked to Link since it happened, and I'm terrified that I'm going to lose him because of this, and I'm too scared to do anything besides taking care of Scout because that's the only thing I can focus on right now," Amelia muttered. Maggie felt a sense of relief at hearing her sister's infamous rambling. She took a seat beside Amelia. "Maggie, I don't even know how it happened, he just started slipping away from me more and more, and I didn't realize how far apart we had moved until he proposed, and I wanted to scream at him, but I just couldn't." She took a moment, breathing heavily. "I'm not quite sure what to do. My friend Violet, from L.A., sent me a list of therapists, and I made an appointment with one because I don't know what's wrong, Maggie, my thinking is just so dark, and I don't want to talk to Link until I know what's going on inside of my own brain."

"Do you want to go to a meeting?" The neurosurgeon shook her head slowly.

"No, I've been to plenty in the past few days. I just feel like I'm starting to talk myself in circles, you know? I mean, I don't know what Link is thinking or how he's feeling. I don't know what I want."

"You don't have to know. And don't feel like it has to include Link because you don't want to be with someone who's not going to respect what you need, Amelia." Amelia smiled softly and laughed quietly.

"Richard told me almost the exact same thing a few months ago," she brushed back a strand of her hair. "And the funny thing was, even though he wasn't telling me to, the first thing my mind jumped to was leaving Link. And I hate that my first thought was that because I want it to work with him. And Link is just, always so perfect, and I don't understand why I can't make it work."

"He's not always perfect, Amelia. I've seen him make plenty of mistakes, and I think you need to realize that he can be so incredibly wonderful and also be wrong about some things."

"I think I'll ruin him," she whispered, glancing down into her lap where she had subconsciously started pulling at her fingers. Link used to stop her from doing that whenever he noticed. He would lift up her hand and kiss it before intertwining their fingers to distract her. "He deserves someone who wants to get married and have a bunch of kids, and I just can't do that."

"Love and relationships aren't always a very straightforward thing. And, I'm not saying that you have to change your mind, but you'll find a way to compromise and make it work if you want. But, you don't have to." Maggie grabbed Amelia's hand. "I think it's really good that you're finding a therapist. I'm certainly not qualified to give you advice, so I'm glad you're looking for someone who can."

"I'm sorry that I ruined your honeymoon," Amelia said guiltily, wiping her hand under her eyes quickly.

"You would do the same for me, Amelia. I'm your sister, and I'm always going to be here for you, no matter what. You're more important to me than the corny tourist destinations I'm supposed to be at right now. Although, Winston is a little convinced that you're faking this and that I just used you as an excuse to come back and operate, so I might need you to cry in front of him." Amelia laughed through teary eyes, holding Maggie's hand tighter. "But, whatever I can do. If you want me to send Winston to beat Link up, I'm sure he will. If you want us to take Scout so you can disappear for a little while, we will." Amelia smiled sadly and leaned her head on Maggie's shoulder.

"Thank you, Maggie."

"It's what sisters are for."

#amelink #amelia shepherd #atticus lincoln #amelia x link #amelink fanfiction #grey's anatomy #amelink fanfic #greys abc #greys fanfic #maggie pierce #my fics

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theflannelwizard · 4 years

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Miss Simian teaches the Special Accommodations class

First off, I would like to say that I am neurodivergent, and most of these headcanons are based off my own experiences. If I do accidentally phrase something in a way that offends you, please let me know so I can fix it! Thanks to @onceuponymous to chatting with me about this before I posted it! I will also say that TAWOG is my current hyper fixation, so this might end up being a rather long post! I’ll try to use bold and italics so my fellow neurodivergent fans have an easier time reading it if they want to :)

I think Miss Simian’s class is full of the neurodivergent kids in Elmore Jr. High. This would explain why Darwin and Gumball are in the same class, despite being two years apart in age, and why they are so blind to the rest of the school. They have their routine and their class, and they are purposefully on a separate schedule than the other students. This would also explain why Gumball and Darwin are so frequently sent to the guidance counselor for their outbursts instead of to the principal.

Almost all if not all of the students in her class exhibit common symptoms of neurodivergence, including (but not limited to) having trouble communicating, hyper fixating or having special interests, masking or feeling like the world won't like, understand, or accept them if they don’t put on a persona, fidgeting or stimming, having trouble with focus, expressing emotion intensely or in unique ways, and either adhering to a strict schedule or behaving impulsively.

Let’s start with trouble communicating. This is an obvious and easy one- almost none of Gumball’s classmates communicate in a neurotypical fashion. Juke and William have extreme trouble communicating verbally, and although Juke realizes this, he keeps trying but is unable to “switch” himself to an easily understood language. William doesn’t even realize he is unheard until Gumball declares he is silent. Banana Joe, Bobert, Sussie, and Jamie all speak in special dialects or patterns that are understandable but set them apart from what would be considered “normal.” Jamie’s is the least obvious, but I would argue that her reliance on threats, often delivered using the same formula, is a unique speech pattern that could have developed in part due to her parentage/home life and in part due to trouble communicating. Gumball has no problem with speaking in an understandable way, but he does have trouble expressing his emotions- he either locks them down or goes over the top with grand declarations and gestures. Likewise, Darwin is able to express himself rather clearly, but he canonically has trouble “learning facial expressions” and is often blind to sarcasm and manipulation, as are many of his classmates. Some students are on the end of the spectrum where they may not have trouble speaking, but they do have trouble reading social cues. For example, Molly is eager to talk to her friends, but can’t always tell whether they are engaged with her stories and doesn’t know when to stop talking. Sarah doesn’t have a clear understanding of boundaries, and neither do Tobias, Sussie, Banana Joe, Teri, Tina, Clayton, Ocho, Gumball, or Alan (despite having good intentions, he often fails to set boundaries for himself, and that’s just as important to notice as those who intrude or don’t understand boundaries for others). In fact, I would argue the entire class has, at some point, shown that they have trouble setting or anticipating healthy boundaries. Once boundaries have been clearly set, they usually are able and willing to respect them, but they can’t always tell on their own what another person is okay with.

Now for hyper fixations and special interests. I would say Teri is one of the most obvious here, with her extensive knowledge of germs and cleanliness. She’s more than just a germaphobe, she has studied hygiene and is obsessive to a point of rarely talking about anything else. Alan could likely be fixated on activism or the general concept of goodness, working overtime to make himself into the most helpful and positive person he can be. Sarah’s fangirl persona goes hand in hand with a fixation on comics, anime, and/or manga. I would even say Carrie’s intense dedication to goth/emo culture could be considered a special interest, and Leslie has a similar relationship to fashion, beauty, and the (heavily coded) LGBT community. Tobias’ obsession with video games has canonically gotten so intense that he neglected basic needs such as sleep- a classic example of hyper fixation.

As far as masking and persona goes, many of the points I’m about to make could be seen as simple stereotyping to make the characters distinct. I choose to interpret it differently. Gumball, Penny, Tobias, Carrie, Masami, Tina, Clayton, and Ocho have all had arcs or significant moments where they were either revealed to have interests or personality traits that were in direct contrast with their outward persona or revealed to think people wouldn’t like “the real them” as much as the act they put on. For example, Penny was terrified to come out of her shell, Tina doesn’t intend to be a bully but comes off as one due to her menacing mask (for self protection, perhaps, so she doesn’t get bullied herself?), and Ocho admits he has trust issues due to being used for his uncles and not respected unless he puts on an intense and aggressive front. Other students build their identities around a single aspect of themself, either something that they find important or something that they expect will be liked or respected. Tobias, Leslie, Carrie, Alan, Jamie, Tina, Idaho, Sarah, Bobert, Banana Joe, and Masami fall easily into stereotypes and seem to be glad to do so. Clayton goes so far as to commit identity theft simply so no one will see his true self and dislike him. Clayton’s compulsive lying is also a symptom of ADHD.

I’m not going to write a whole paragraph on fidgeting/stimming and focus, because I don’t think there’s too much to analyze or dissect there, but if you go back and watch any episode, you’ll likely notice that many of the characters are easily distracted and/or have unique body movements, postures, or phrases that they tend to repeat. I also think impulsivity and routine is so important to the plot that it doesn’t need to be discussed, but was worth a brief mention.

Let’s talk about emotions! Gumball has the classic neurodivergent experience of either bottling up his emotions with no idea how to express them or going over the top with grand declarations and gestures. He feels things very intensely, as shown by his often dramatic reactions, but isn’t always sure how to process or express them. Darwin is always on one extreme of that scale, with no filter as to how he expresses and feels things. He is unafraid to cry in public, declare that something makes him feel good or bad, or say very bluntly what needs to be done to make him feel better (eg declaring he responds well to positive reinforcement- that sounds like therapist or guidance counselor language to me! Good job, Darwin! I wish I was as clear as you!). Likewise, Penny is prone to meltdowns after she breaks out of her shell, and she is so intensely emotional that she messes up her (likely well-rehearsed) cheer tryout due to being rejected by Gumball, and her physical form changes based on emotion. Banana Joe, Carrie, Masami, Sarah, arguably Anton, Carmen, Teri, Tina, Hector, and Sussie also express their intense emotions in big and obvious ways. Some examples include Masami’s meltdown in The Storm, Teri’s tendency to faint or cry, Carmen’s outburst (possibly a meltdown or breakdown) at her old school, and Tina’s tendency to use violence and anger as a first response when upset, even in “small” ways. (Note- I put small in quotes because something like being told it’s a waste of time to get piano lessons might not feel small to her, and could indeed warrant chasing and attacking Gumball.) On the other side of the scale, we have characters like Alan, Idaho, Bobert, Molly, Leslie, and Hector (again, as he behaves differently with or without his music box), who are capable of being dramatic or expressing emotion, but won’t acknowledge their feelings directly and might even be perceived as not having (many) emotions. For instance, Bobert is often referred to as not having emotions or not being a real person, a harmful stereotype against autistic folks, which is increased by the fact that he is a robot, which autistic folks are sometimes unfairly compared to. Alan is seemingly incapable of feeling negative emotions, to the point where his loss of hope wrecks Elmore, implying that he has a mental or emotional block from feeling and expressing these emotions. Molly references her “special dark place,” implying that she does get emotionally or sensorially overwhelmed, but has no way to express her needs (or lacks the confidence to do so) and would rather remove herself from a situation. Leslie is the most dramatic of the characters with emotional blocks or low emotional expression, but I would argue that since he never openly owns or discusses his emotions, (verbally or otherwise,) and instead turns to petty drama or denial, he also belongs in this category.

TL;DR: Most if not all of Miss Simian’s students exhibit classic symptoms of neurodivergence, be it autism, adhd, or both. Hopefully the many (x character) has (x diagnosis) posts I’ve seen floating around can supplement this theory! And of course, if you don’t buy this interpretation or just don’t like it, you don’t have to agree with me! But I think the idea of TAWOG having a majority neurodivergent cast is comforting, fun, and canon-compliant. :)

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uncurlinglikeflowers · 3 years

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Queer Trauma, Coming Out, & the Long Road to Self-Love and Healing

As I’ve reflected on my past, I’ve discovered that my adolescence may be one of, if not THE most traumatic time of my life thus far as a queer person. The last few months with my incredible therapist have made me realize that the years of anxiety, panic, fear, self-loathing, confusion, and depression have scarred me deeper than I had previously thought. She also made me realize that this is at least partially because I have never really talked about it openly and in depth in a healthy and productive way before, which is what inspired me to start this blog to share my experiences with others that are currently struggling with their identity, or to allow those that are also currently healing from the trauma of their previously closeted life feel a little more seen.

I knew from a VERY young age that I was different, but didn’t know how or what it meant. I was a lonely kid for a lot of my childhood without many friends. I didn’t want to play football with the boys during recess. I sought companionship at lunch with a table full of girls more often than not, which in itself also made me feel incredibly self conscious at the time as well.

I asked, (with incredible shame) for the “girl’s toy” from the backseat in the McDonald’s drive-thru because I loved to play with the mini-Barbies and craft entire storylines for them. They were easier to hide in my room than regular sized Barbies. I spent most summers off school alone playing video games and reading book and book after book. I didn’t really click with the boys down the street. I was obsessed with Britney Spears and the color purple. I was lonely without really knowing what it meant.

I feel as though that fear I felt in my childhood and adolescence held me back from SO much. Middle school in particular was absolute hell. I hated it. I always felt constantly insecure and uncomfortable. I had absolutely zero confidence or self love. I hated my body and how I looked.

While other kids experienced their first relationships and first feelings of romantic love, I was convinced that it was just not a possibility for me. On top of being deeply closeted, scared, confused, lonely, and in deep denial, girls didn’t go for me anyway. I was the awkward chunky guy struggling with his identity feeling like he had to make up for it by working extra hard to get perfect grades and give himself 100% to other people. I tried not to think about it too much, but hearing about relationships, seeing people kiss in the hallways between classes, and girls talking about what they liked in boys which was the complete opposite of me... it was hell.

To make my self consciousness worse, I felt supremely uncomfortable in gym class and the boys’ locker room in particular. I was ashamed of my body and also self conscious for wanting to look at the other boys; terrified that they would catch on and beat me senseless. Hearing them consistently call each other f*g in a very VERY negative context drove me deep into the closet as the identity I already felt shame for was directly correlated with being a ridiculed outcast, and something that was inherently, disgustingly wrong and unacceptable. The worst insult teenage boys could deliver to each other in the safety of an unchaperoned locker room in a hick town often not kind to queer people or those that were different. I SO desperately wanted to fit in with the other boys instead of being any version of who I actually was.

Part of that façade of blending in with my hetero peers involved having a girlfriend for two months in 8th grade. We didn’t even kiss, let alone approach any sexual situations. I’m sure she had her suspicions. I was utterly obsessed with the concept of blending in by having a girlfriend like the other boys and just having someone special in my life, even if we really didn’t even do any couple things.

Upon reflection, I don’t think the concept of ever being sexual with her ever crossed my mind in the slightest. Even the idea of kissing her scared the hell out of me, and not just from first kiss nerves. Deep down I knew it wasn’t right for me. Don’t EVER tell a kid they’re too young to know. Fast forward to modern times, my first kiss with a girl was with a close friend YEARS after I came out. Go figure.

The idea of caring about and loving myself was non-existent at that time. It’s a very VERY new and ongoing journey for me. I didn’t really care about myself at all. I hadn’t learned how to. Mom was in and out of cancer treatments, and would later pass during my senior year of college and kick off my coming out process, but that’s a whole other post for another day. Spending pretty much my entire childhood watching mom deal with being sick, I didn’t want to cause my family any more discomfort. I was full of self loathing, fear, and confusion, but it seemed irrelevant and unimportant because I didn’t want to be a hindrance.

Instead, I tried so desperately to be the perfect kid and son by befriending my teachers, being a model student, and joining band and a bunch of organizations to stay as busy as possible to stay distracted and impress everyone else.I didn’t love myself because I didn’t think I was allowed to or deserved to in my own head. While I did finally make more meaningful friends in high school, I continued to go through the motions to make my family proud to make up for the scared closeted kid who thought he had to make up for his queerness as though it were a shameful weakness, and it seemed to be the only thing that could possibly matter at the time.

Non-surprisingly, I never really knew any openly queer boys in grade school. It probably legitimately wasn’t all that safe to come out in that environment. I’ll never forget the two boys I saw holding hands in a Wal-Mart that absolutely shook up my entirely reality, because I had never seen romantic same-sex affection in person before.

There was a lesbian couple at my school, but people said awful, degrading things about them behind their backs constantly and acted like they were the biggest freaks. Another boy in my grade in high school hadn’t come out yet officially but was very flamboyant, and thus was treated just as awful as the lesbian couple, if not worse. Other kids just regularly said despicable things about him without even knowing him at all. I even heard parents make blatantly homophobic jokes about him.

His life had to have been hell, and as a fully out queer adult, I still regret not being able to stand up for him more. That definitely forced me deeper into the closet. He wasn’t even out but got talked about like he was some disgusting abomination. How could I ever assume that I could ever come out, let alone kiss, date, and love another boy? I HATED the idea of any attention being placed on me, so I just wanted to survive school at that point.

I had multiple people throughout high school ask me if I were gay just as though it were the most casual question rather than a triggering inquiry that sent me into a mental frenzy every damn time it was presented. Having one of the jock boys ask me such a deeply personal question in passing on the way to my seat in Algebra class was traumatizing. I of course always said no, as at the time I was still convinced it was a passing phase and that I couldn’t actually be gay.

At home, in the days of Myspace, I got anonymous messages telling me they were pretty sure I was gay. The anonymity was arguably worse in some ways.

At a young age, I became hyper aware of how I carried myself, talked, and acted. I loathed hearing my voice or seeing myself in pictures, for fear of sounding too feminine or standing or emoting too gay. I obsessed over the concept that boys and girls carried their books a certain way, or the boys would be labelled as queer. I was paranoid about where I shopped for clothes, the colors I wore, and the length and fit of my shorts.

In middle school, I got a lilac colored trapper keeper for school that I ultimately had my parents take back to the store for a different one because I felt so self conscious about it all day. At home I played with my little Barbies, but didn’t dare tell the kids at school for fear of rejection and isolation. Overall, I felt grossly incompetent, irrelevant, and unimportant in my own mind. Unworthy of love and of course, deeply ashamed for my attraction to the other boys.

I never had anyone whatsoever to help guide me through the coming out process, because I didn’t know a single queer person who could. I’ve now dedicated a good amount of my energy trying to be that person I desperately could have used then for anyone else that needs that role to be filled, and for someone to tell them that someone is incredibly proud of them. An obscene amount of queer people don’t ever hear “I’m so proud of you!” when they really need it the most.

I also didn’t have any good queer representation on TV or in movies, so I really did feel completely alone at times. Most queer characters in media existedly solely to be made fun of and mocked, ratcher than celebrated, properly represented, or God forbid, given a legitimate love story, and the public’s reaction was so frequently one of such repugnance and disapproval.

This was also probably about the time that a close family member told me that he had punched a gay guy for hitting on him when he was younger, a story he again felt the need to share with a now ex-boyfriend and I when we were dating, as though that’s not a horrifying thing for an already scared and closeted queer to hear from their own family.

I think during middle school in particular is when my anxiety and depression issues started, but I assumed either that I was being a baby and that my feelings were invalid, or that it was just teenage angst. The idea that boys and men should mask their emotions and feelings and feel shame rather than expressing them was, (and seemingly appears to continue to be) a very real thing in small towns and society in general.

It didn’t occur to me at the time that I was experiencing varying levels of almost daily trauma that would fuck me up well into adulthood. If you take anything at all from this post, let it be that the conversation around mental health, (and men in particular in this instance) NEEDS to change.

Another particularly noteworthy event in my queer adolescence was when two of my friends, (both girls, shocker) discovered gay porn on my computer. While they pestered me about if it were mine while they laughed, I of course lied. I felt a deep shame and utter humiliation. On reflection, fucking IMAGINE if they had been able to be gentle and understanding with me and told me they loved me and still would even if I were gay. From then on I was terrified that they would bring that day up to our other friends as a joke. Perhaps they did a time or two, I don’t recall. These same friends made jokes about the queer kid I mentioned earlier, and both parents of one of the girls regularly gossiped and made homophobic jokes about him when I was at their house

By the time school dances rolled around, I knew I would never be able to go with anyone but friends. Even if I weren’t still deeply closeted, I’m pretty sure my school still had pretty strict rules against bringing same-sex dates to Prom. While I definitely had fun with my friends at the dances we went to, I so desperately longed for a world where I could dance with a boy who loved me like everyone else was able to.

The loneliness and isolation I felt at the end of those nights could be unbearable because it didn’t seem possible for me, even as I looked into the future. I was fully convinced I would live a very lonely life without anyone to love me the way I craved. I didn’t belong in that world, and wouldn’t ever be set up for that kind of happiness, joy, and feeling of content. I would live for everyone else but myself because that’s just the way the world worked for us queers.

I wish I had had just one single person then who gave me full permission to be my authentic queer self on any level. Someone who could hug me and tell me life after high school and college could and would be vastly different. Someone to tell me I wasn’t an unlovable disgusting freak, but rather a kind-hearted boy who deserved a deep love someday because I was a valid and gentle soul who deserved the world. I certainly deserved more than the shame and pain that constantly haunted me.

Maybe then I wouldn’t have thought about death before 30 so much and obsessed over it well into my college career. I might have realized that I needed to learn to be gentle with myself and take care of and prioritize me and my own happiness. So many people let me down and convinced me that I was a filthy sinner and an over-emotional kid with invalid perspectives and feelings. As most of my closest friends, (that I cannot stress enough have been the ones to save my life and encourage the authenticity that I present so proudly today) came into my life after I had already come out fully, they weren’t around during those dark early struggles.

Sometimes as an adult I still wonder what it would have felt like and how profoundly different my life could be if someone had held me close and sincerely told me they’re proud of me for what I survived and overcame, and told me that they can’t wait to see my eyes light up with the love I’ve always dreamed of in a boy, and that I still continue to seek.

Young, baby gay Travis would be in absolute awe if he knew what life had in store for him back then. To see a future version of himself painting his nails, wearing whatever he wanted, dancing with strangers at pride festivals, having the time of his life at drag shows with his queer family and falling in love with boys? Proudly holding a boyfriend’s hand walking downtown in a busy city? Openly telling his dad about the cute boy he’s going on a date with? Going Facebook official with a boy? Being a super vocal advocate and inspiration and mentor to not only queer family, but to people he hardly talks to but manages to influence and inspire just by unashamedly being himself? Genuinely looking forward to kissing his new husband in front of family and friends on his wedding day, knowing it’ll be one of the happiest days of his entire life?

Holy. Actual. Fuck.

Travis of six or seven years ago wouldn’t have even dared to dream this big, let alone baby gay Travis. He probably would have been utterly mortified but SO comforted to see that future life when he didn’t believe it to be any level of possible.

I’m so fucking proud of myself for this journey, and no one will ever take that away from me or water down my trauma or the grueling work I’ve put in. Genuinely, this is the one thing in my life that makes me absolutely burst with pride.

I think I want to learn how to keep baby Travis in mind with this pride without having to revisit the trauma in the process. Look back at him with open arms, excited to see him learn and blossom into his actual self someday. Even if he could have desperately used someone like the me I am today, he survived then, and continues to persevere today.

He’s queer as fuck, and proud to shout it from the rooftops. He’s a voice and an advocate for the voiceless. A shining light and beacon of hope for those still navigating their terrifying escape from their closeted life. He’s going to meet a man someday and love him so deeply in the way baby Travis always dreamed of. Above all, he’s going to continue to make that little guy so incredibly proud because he knows now the importance of loving himself in the process.

I’m so proud of that scared little boy. I just wish he could have known then how proud he would make himself one day.

As you talk with the queer people in your life, please keep in mind that just about all of us have incredible trauma directly tied to our identities. Talk to them with love, compassion, and understanding. Tell them how proud of them you are for pursuing their own happiness in the face of oppression and rejection.

Demand better from elected officials. Advocate for us. Shut down homophobic ideals, even if you think it’ll make your family and friends uncomfortable to hear. Support queer content, artists and creators. Be a proud ally, but don’t ever allow yourself to take the spotlight away from actual queer people or our queer spaces. Mourn, love, and celebrate with us.

Understand why pride is SO fucking important to us, and why you never have to worry about needing your own pride events. Listen to us and love us for exactly who we are, and were always meant to be. Love is the most incredible, beautiful, and often rare human experience we’re able to experience during our short time on this planet, and it should always be celebrated.

Happy Pride!

#pride #gay #lgbt #journaling #love #queer #coming out #coming out stories #queer trauma #adolescent trauma #self love #healing #trauma

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canvas-the-florist · 4 years

Text

Learning to Listen

Ships: Past Romantic Prinxiety, Romantic Intruality,

Warnings: Messy breakup, swearing, unintentional bigotry, mentions of sex, brief (VERY brief) making out

Summary: Virgil, Roman, Patton, and Remus move into a house together as housing during college. It works out great until Virgil and Roman breakup and Remus discovers some things that could complicate his own romantic relationship with Patton (none of the characters are unsympathetic they’re just stupid.)

Word Count: 1.8K

“I’m just an over glorified fuck buddy to you, aren’t I?!” Virgil yelled through the thin walls and Remus flinched at the noise. Roman and Virgil decided to have an apparently much needed fight. He was glad that Patton wasn’t home to witness what he assumed was a breakup. Remus didn’t know whether or not he was going to have to comfort Virgil or Roman.

“No! I just- Virgil you aren’t listening to me! Like you ever do!” Remus turned up the music in his headphones, despite it already at max volume. His eardrums were probably going to explode, with blood and whatever cartilage did when it couldn’t handle the stress of hearing.

“Are you breaking up with me?!”

“Yeah, VIRGIL, I think I am!” Remus was impressed that they had gotten to that part after two hours. But hey, they got there in the end, right? He heard the door of the room open and slam shut. He paused his music and looked up to see Roman looking deflated. Roman walked over and sat next to Remus silently. Remus didn’t say anything, not wanting to fuck up his brother’s day anymore, even though that sounded like fun. Roman screamed into a pillow and fell the back of his head onto Remus’s lap, slapping his phone to the ground. “Did you manage not to hear any of that?”

“Oh I’m pretty sure your voice could’ve broken the windows if you tried harder.” Remus supplied. “I don’t know exactly what the fight was about though, you guys were talking like normal people at the point.”

“What would you know about normal people?” Roman responded snarkily, before shaking his head softly and corrected himself. “Sorry. That fight was a lot, I’m not sure the adrenaline of it has burned out yet… Remus, is it weird that I thought we were doing really well? I didn’t even notice Virgil wasn’t happy with it. I really fucked up.”

Remus thought briefly to his own dating life. He realized he related more than he wanted to. “Yeah, you really boinged that one, dude. But, I’m sure it’ll be okay. If it doesn’t work out I can decapitate Virge for you. He’s my best friend but you’re my brother.”

Roman laughed lightly, and tears rolled down his face unto Remus’s legs. His laughter quickly turned to sobbing into Remus’s shirt until Patton came home from work 30 minutes later. He opened the door humming to himself until he saw the twins on the couch, Roman’s makeup running and generally looking like a mess.

“Is… everything okay?” Remus shook his head and Patton nodded to himself. “Where’s Virgil?” That simple question got Roman to crumble down horizontally on the couch again. Patton thought to himself with furrowed brows about that response. Remus pointed to Virgil’s room and Patton followed, knocking on the door. He went in after a few seconds to see Virgil curled up in a ball, shaking and clearly not alright.

He couldn’t even choke a word out. Patton closed the door and sat on the ground in front of him. Without questioning anything he opened up his arms in case Virgil wanted a hug. He did. “Okay kiddo, breathe in for four seconds for me. Now hold it for seven-”

This went on until his breathing was stable. Virgil’s fist was closed around a piece of Patton’s shirt. “I shouldn’t have yelled at him.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Patton asked, tightening his grip. He had begun to suspect what might’ve happened and almost wanted to cry about it himself, but it wasn’t about him right now. “Not that you have to but if you need to, I’m here.”

“No, my therapist has told me to communicate better. Which, ironically, what I was trying to do with Roman…” Virgil trailed off, loosening his grip of Patton’s shirt and looking up to his ceiling. He doesn’t really seem to want me other than to have sex and after mentioning that it eventually turned into a screaming match. And then he… then he broke up with me. I should’ve listened to him before but I didn’t. Patton I don’t know what to do.”

Patton bit his lip for a second. Only sex, huh? He thought back to himself and Remus. They sort of had the opposite issue… This wasn’t about that though. Virgil still wanted a response. “I wasn’t there, Virgil, and this isn’t my relationship we’re talking about. I- do you want suggestions or do you just want me to listen without giving any opinions?”

“Suggestions would be cool.”

“Alright,” with that permission Patton tried to think of his best friendly advice. ‘Communication’ was usually always the answer but it was some sort of subsection of that Patton wasn’t sure how to explain. Listen to Roman? Be clear about your wants in a romantic relationship? It was hard for Patton to follow those in his OWN dating life. He realized more and more issues to bring up to Remus after this resolved somehow. “Well, it would probably be helpful to listen to what Roman wants in the relationship and have him listen to what you would want. And then… based on that, work on how to do that together or if that’s not compatible… Break off the romantic relationship because it would probably be healthier that way.”

Virgil whistled lowly. “Dang, Pat. I was sort of expecting a follow your heart thing. But, thank you. I guess that would mean confronting the issues, which is quite honestly terrifying. I should probably do that now or something…” He stood up, holding his head from doing it too fast and made his way to the door. Patton remained on the floor a moment longer before following.

Remus was back to listening to music while Roman was scrolling on his phone as Remus played with his hair idly. Virgil grabbed the fabric of his jacket before walking to the loveseat. He heard Patton close his door and almost jumped out of his skin. He took a deep breath. “Roman? Maybe we should try again with that discussion… I don’t want this to be screaming. I like you, a lot. What do you say?”

He made brief eye contact with Roman, seeing the dried tears and puffy eyes, but he nodded and sat up. Remus gave Virgil a raised eyebrow but said nothing. “Okay.” Roman croaked. Patton walked to the kitchen almost immediately to give both of them glasses of water to fight back against what the yelling and tears did to their throats. “You can start.”

“Should we leave?” Remus asked, as Patton handed the glass to Virgil and then Roman. Patton sat down at the one chair in the room, but didn’t get comfortable just in case. “I mean it’s your conversation.”

“You can stay. I don’t want to yell again. A mediator would be good.” Like it helped before, Remus thought to himself, but stayed put. Virgil cleared his throat with a small cough and took a sip of water. “I’m starting? Okay. I feel like I'm not getting a lot of romantic affection lately in our relationship that I would really appreciate. We don’t really kiss or anything and I would like to know if that’s because of me or not. You can go now.”

Roman blinked and used a tissue from the side table to clean up his face as he spoke. “Thank you for telling me that, Virgil… I didn’t realize that you wanted affectionate stuff that badly. I feel like I don’t need that in my relationships and I’ve been questioning my sexuality and romantic orientations for a while. And I probably should’ve brought this up earlier but… I think I’m…” He looked down at the ground. “I think I’m aromantic.” He sounded like he was about to cry again. Remus looked at Patton with wide eyes.

Patton returned the look as Virgil talked next. “Oh. Roman, I’m so sorry about the fuckbuddy comment, shit. I didn’t realize… but I’m proud of you for finding that out about yourself. Maybe it would be healthier if we broke up, huh?”

Roman laughed, new tears falling down his face. The two embraced each other, laughing while crying. “Yeah, I guess we are breaking up then!”

It would hurt for a while, and the change was definitely huge but it was better. But after witnessing that Patton and Remus knew that they had to talk. The only question was who would be the first to bring it up?

Remus and Patton were on Patton’s bed, making out. Which was fine, neither of their roommates were home and it was fun. The issues came up when Patton’s hand went under Remus’s shirt. “Is this okay?” He asked. It all came crashing down when Remus shook his head no. They stopped immediately and fell onto the bed looking up at the ceiling next to each other. “We should talk about this. Not that you didn’t want to, just that we need to define better boundaries for our relationship.”

“You’re right. We should talk about this.” Remus gulped. Apparently it was already happening. After two weeks but it still didn’t feel like enough time. “Patt, I love you… But I don’t know about fucking.”

“Crass, but I get it. Are you… asexual?” He looked over at his boyfriend, who shrugged. “Well, that’s fine too. So no sexual stuff. Got it. Anything else that would cross the line that we should talk about?”

Remus was tempted just to shrug again but didn’t. “I don’t know yet. After Roman finding out he’s aromantic I’ve been thinking. I still want to be with you, but can I give you everything you want in a relationship? I don’t think I… I don’t think I NEED or WANT sex at all, but I haven’t decided yet. I’m so fucking confused.”

“I may want it, Remus but I don’t think it’s a need in our relationship.” Patton reassured. And he wasn’t lying either. He believed what he was saying, glad that his conversations with Janus had also gotten him to check his own wants and needs in general. “I think I’m alright like this, but it’s important for me to know for sure.”

He reached out for Remus’s hand, and he took it. They looked up at the ceiling, with a feeling of clarity that helped them relax. It wasn’t really a change at all, but it gave reason to actions and made sure they wouldn’t make the other uncomfortable. And that was worth it.

Taglist: @vpow @loveroffandoms @yourfellowsmolgay @moth-bugs @vsem-5

#remus sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #prinxiety #intruality #past prinxiety #romantic intruality #asexual remus #aromantic roman #sander sides #sander sides fanfiction #writing #emile writes #fake shitpost

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aimasup · 5 years

Text

So I saw a bunch of Human AU Sanders Sides and thought I could make my own version

Backstories under the cut for anyone who’s interested

(Tw warnings such as mentions of abuse, homophobia and car accidents but it’s angst with a happy ending don’t worry)

-Long post-

-Patton:

Toddler to child: Parents love me and I love them! Lots of friends in kindergarten! Met Logan one day! He’s so smart!

Grade school: More friends! Logan’s opening up! Everything’s perfect!

Highschool: My parents are arguing more and I’m tired Meeting Roman and Remus! Roman’s so cool! Meeting Virgil! Virgil needs a hug! I feel sad and stressed sometimes and I don’t think I want to worry anyone with it.- Virgil’s with us now yay!

College: My best buds are here! I got into an accident halfway through my studies Virgil please don’t feel responsible. It’s not your fault. I’m so sorry Logan I should have understood your situation better. Roman please get mad I deserve your anger and I feel awful and empty but I shouldn’t show it because some people have it worse than I do I know it why do I feel this way? I’m fine honestly this is fine everything’s fine I’m just the problem -

Adulthood: So. I’m not the problem. I just need to work on my attitude and my flaws. I love my friends and family so much because they let me know that expressing my feelings is ok! My parents are fine now! I’m getting professional help! I work in an animal care center with Virgil! Roman is successful and pursuing his dreams! Met this guy named Dean and he works with Logan in the bookstore next to our center! He’s fun but he might need to stop lying so much, but other than that I’m happy with where I am now!

-Virgil:

Toddler to child: Parents love me and I love them. Bullies can go suck it. I feel bad that my parents always spend their time comforting me but they’re my whole world and I feel safe with them.

Grade school: Bullies are getting worse. Dad’s dead. Mom is stressed and busy so I don’t want to trouble her further. She still spends time with me for some reason. I don’t think I deserve friends. MCR is great. I met Dean and Remus. They’re. Interesting. I hate Roman.

High school: Oh my god everything is stressful and oppressive and everyone is scared of me. That’s good. Maybe. Met Patton, Logan and Roman. They’re only somewhat scared? Hm. Dean and Remus are getting into even more trouble than usual and pulling me into them. Maybe they aren’t good for me with how they’ve been acting lately. I’ll go be with Patton. - Maybe they don’t really accept me they’re just waiting to kick me out like everyone else why would they even like me-

College: Mom I love you so much I swear I’ll get a good job and make this college money worth it you’ll see. And things are surprisingly less stressful? I really like my friends? Patton why the hell did you save me from that car. Logan you have some explaining to do. Roman you shut the fuck up. - Everything is my fault I should have never said anything why am I always like this everyone was right about me-

Adulthood: Mom!! You can now retire!! Roommates with Patton, Logan and Roman now and I love being with them so much. And. Dean and Remus are still around. Well then. Whatever. I work a nice job at an animal care center with Patton and I have my friends and I’m learning to be more open and things are going well for now. Not bad for a life.

-Logan:

Toddler to child: Parents go to work most of the time and I see them every other weekend. Who cares about everyone else in kindergarten I have my books and Crofters. Oh hello Patton.

Grade school: I’m smarter than everyone else and I know it. Patton is a wonderful companion. I’m doing well for my age.

High school: Virgil and Roman are interesting. Remus needs to chill. Virgil no let me lay some facts down for you because you are valid you hear me. Oh! Oh my gosh! I met this amazing student and he makes me feel special and happy! I think I love him! - It hurts but that’s fine-

College: I’m coming for those degrees! Patton needs to stop asking me to leave my boyfriend. He doesn’t understand how important this man is to me! I can stand a little pain! Wait what happened to Patton. Virgil? Roman? Ok. Wait. Shit. I’m an idiot. I can’t believe it took me this long to figure out - I’m such an idiot it doesn’t matter how knowledgeable I am I’m still a gullible moron when it comes to relationships and everything my ex has ever done and said to me is all my fault because I fell for his manipulations-

Adulthood: Ok. I trust my therapist and my friends when they say it’s not my fault and that it’s alright. What I felt with my ex wasn’t love and I’m not a moron for falling for him. I can always start over. Like with the bookstore I now own with my receptionist Dean. Apparently he knows Virgil huh. They frequently bicker whenever Dean goes to their animal care center to buy snake feed so that’s interesting. My parents have retired and are now trying to make up for lost time with me? I appreciate it I suppose. Now I live with my companions and contact my family and things are alright.

-Roman:

Toddler to child: Parents love me and I love them! They buy me anything I want! They support my dreams! But Remus keeps bullying me and I’m not sure how to feel about him. He’s still my brother

Grade school: I have so many friends! Extra-curricular activities because I’m really talented! Remus has new friends to cause trouble with oh boy. More people to bully me the better for him ugh. Virgil especially creeps me out. I’m getting a little concerned as to how my parents are treating Remus but I’m sure he’s fine

High school: Ok. So. Apparently telling my parents that I like guys is a bad idea. - That’s going to scar on my back for sure- They treat me completely differently from when I was a kid? And I met Patton and Logan and I think I might be a tad spoiled by my family. Also Virgil’s here but he’s getting more and more ok. I’ll hang out with him now. - I’m ungrateful and a disgrace and I’m not as creative as I ever thought I was-

College: Welp. I’m moving out. I wish Remus the best of luck because I think he’s coming too. My parents officially suck as much as Logan’s current boyfriend. He needs to dump him. Wait I’m a YouTuber now! Yay! - I’m getting more and more stressed and overwhelmed from debt and I fear rejection from my fans and friends the moment I say something out of line and the moment I run out of good ideas for them- Oh shit Patton what happened!! Logan what did you do!! Virgil you shut the fuck up!! Remus you’re not helping!! - I could have prevented this why didn’t I realize this earlier am I that self absorbed-

Adulthood: Yes I’m a full time YouTuber and actor and singer now!! Patton, Logan and Virgil live with me now and they even work close together! Remus is now a comic book artist and novel author, hope he doesn’t traumatize people too much. Logan’s receptionist Dean sure is a character. I still fear rejection- but I know things will be good for now!

-Deceit:

Toddler to child: Where are my parents. Why is the orphanage so small and why do people look at me weird when I talk. I’m never getting adopted.

Grade school: Well, I’m adopted now I guess. No way in hell am I telling them everything that happens daily in my life. Why do my new parents think my bedroom door needs to be removed. They took my little garden snake because it wasn’t a ‘normal’ pet? Hm. Why hello there Virgil and Remus. Hello Roman.

High school: That’s it. I’m getting piercings, I’m getting a huge tattoo, I’m kissing snakes. Screw my parents. I don’t need to let anyone know anything about me. My opinion doesn’t matter anyways and everything about me is going to be bad no matter what so why bother So they fear us, Virgil? Good. Wait. Where are you going?

College: I’m moving out officially. Remus is in a different college. -Don’t miss him at all. I shall play along to society’s whims for now and get a degree and never use it. Got rid of the tracker under my car. I don’t think I’ll ever contact my parents again.

Adulthood: I think I’m doing rather well as a citizen. Remus is my new apartment mate oh god. But he is now a comic book artist and novel author so at least he has a job. Perks of working in a bookstore with Logan. That nerd’s one of Virgil’s new friends? And emo boy now works in the animal care center next to us? Whatever. I’ll leave them be unless I need some new snake feed. Things are peaceful now for me at least.

-Remus:

Toddler to child: I want my parents to look me in the eye and tell them they care more than just throwing fancy stuff into my arms dangit. Whatever I’ll just take it out on Roman and the kids in the playground.

Grade school: -If you can’t say anything nice don’t open your ugly mouth ever at all- So I’m disturbed? So my thoughts aren’t normal? Fine! Not like I can control what comes into my head! Let me bully Roman some more with my new buds Virgil and Dean! - freaking star child has everything I hate him so much what will it take for my parents to have their attention on me I’ve caused so much trouble in school why won’t they care-

High school: Roman what the hell happened?? I was planning your murder but now I’m not sure how to feel?? Damn you?? Uh?? We’ll move out?? And where the hell is Virgil going again?? Dean?? He’s leaving us? Alright. That’s it. That’s it - my grades and reputation are shit and my parents always assume the worst of me anyways so I’ll just sleep around with a bunch of guys every other week for quick cash and drag my family’s name through the mud and have fun because I don’t hate myself completely but my ideas are bad and I’m bad and-

College: Fuck you mom and dad! Roman and I are moving out!! I’m gonna become a comic artist and write terrifying stories that’ll make Satan cry!! - Ugh Dean’s in another college dammit I miss him- Roman what is it this time someone get run over or something? What happened with that nerd Logan? Is Virgil alright- What the fuck happened? - the star child is crying why are you crying why am I crying why do I feel like this I don’t care I shouldn’t care I hate you I hate me-

Adulthood: My ideas are selling! I’m a comic book artist and a novel author! Dean is my new apartment buddy! My brother is still some fancy theater geek but who cares! And the store Dean works at sells my books! And Virgil’s in the animal care center next door! I met his new friends officially and they’re boring lol. I really like where my life’s heading!

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walkerwords · 4 years

Text

“The Savior Sessions” Part 1 of 33 - Negan x GN!Reader

IMAGE CREDIT: Gene Page/AMC

SERIES MASTERLIST

Summary: This will be a collection of conversations set before the events of season 9 in which the reader speaks with Negan while in his cell as they recount events and memories from their time in the Apocalypse as well as stories of his own.

Word Count: 2417

Warning: None

Song I Wrote To: “Open Season” by Josef Salvat

Note: These are going to be smaller stories that I will be updating randomly. Each fic will be a conversation/situation about Negan in his cell in Alexandria. Some maybe very short, others not. I am still working on the other stories, but I wanted to post this as I work on those as well. Thank you for your kind words about my family, I really appreciate it.

------

“I just don’t know why you’re asking me to do this, Michonne.”

You stood across from Alexandria’s head of security in her kitchen. Michonne meticulously cleaned her Katana as you spoke, remaining calm the entire time. When she had asked you to meet her today, you never imagined this would be the reason.

“Gabriel is worried about his state of mind,” Michonne said, “He thinks somebody should be speaking with him on a regular basis.”

“Isn’t that already Gabriel’s job?” you asked. “He’s always the one who’s down there.” Michonne sighed, sliding the blade back into its sheath.

“He believes that he can no longer get through to him and that they’ve become too familiar with each other,” Michonne said, placing her sword down and bracing her hands against the kitchen counter, “I also think we can benefit from it and I suppose he can as well.” You frowned.

“You’re asking me to become Negan’s therapist,” you pointed out. “How is any of that beneficial?”

“Whether we like it or not, Negan did run an entire community unchallenged. He may have insight into this world that we don’t and I have started to think that perhaps keeping him so isolated isn’t doing anyone any good,” Michonne explained. “I am asking you because you don’t have a relationship with him. The two of you never interacted during the war and you made sure to stay out of his line of sight for most of it. You’re not a total stranger, but he doesn’t know you like he knows Gabriel, me, or even Aaron.”

“So, basically, you want someone he can’t push around by pushing their buttons,” you concluded and Michonne grimaced.

“You were also a teacher, (Y/N),” said Michonne, “that is something you two have in common. Maybe that will get him to open up or at least… God, I don’t know what I want the outcome to be, but Rick wanted Negan to be a symbol for how we can grow as a society. I don’t know if he can ever be redeemed, but if he can even a small amount, then it may start with you.”

“You pulled out your Rick card,” you said with a sigh, “not fair.” Michonne smiled with a shrug.

“I knew it would come in handy someday,” she said and you finally gave in.

“Okay, I will be the big bad wolf’s confidant, but if he tries anything or pisses me off to a degree that makes me want to commit murder, that’s on Gabriel,” you said with a wink and Michonne visibly relaxed.

“Thank you, (Y/N),” she said, relieved. “I’m going to let you run it the way you want to, but try not to piss him off if you can.” You smiled at her brightly.

“Oh, you know me, Michonne, something like that is inevitable.”

-----

When you arrived at the cell an hour later, you dismissed the guard who stood out front.

If you were going to be talking to Negan to gain insight and trust, you didn’t see the need for a chaperone. As the guard left, you pushed open the heavy door and sealed it behind you.

“Gabe, if you’re here to give me another life lesson, you can save it. I’m not in the mood,” Negan said in the darkness of his cell. You had never been this close to the man before. You had fought against the Saviors of course, but always at an outpost or in a larger fight. Rick had also used your talents with the sniper rifle and kept you up high most of the time. This whole situation was alien to you and while it was unnerving to be so near to a killer, you didn’t let that stop you from stepping out of the shadows.

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not Father Gabriel,” you said, dragging a chair from the wall and centering it before the jail cell. Negan, who had been laying on his bed with his back to the door, slowly sat up and turned towards you.

In the cool light of the room, you could see him clearly now. His hair was shorter than the last time you had seen him which was when Rick had dragged him into this cell about five years before. He still had the stubble on his face, but the cocky grin that you had gotten used to seeing through your scope was nowhere to be seen.

“Have we met?” he asked, tilting his head in curiosity. You shifted slightly in your seat, trying to get comfortable.

“Not officially,” you told him. “I’m (Y/N).” Recognition dawned on his face then.

“Yes,” he said, sitting forward on the edge of his cot, “Little Miss Grimes has mentioned you before.” It wasn’t news to you that he spoke to Judith. Most people knew that she visited Negan often. The only person who probably didn’t know was Michonne. Judith had confided in you that she wasn’t scared of the man and that all she wanted was for him to know he wasn’t some kind of wild animal. You now started to realize that her reasoning was exactly why you were here. “So what can I do for you, (Y/N)?”

“I’ve been sent by the overlords of Alexandria to be your new best friend,” you explained, crossing one leg over the other.

“Is that right?” he asked, leaning forward. “Gabe get too bored with little ole me?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t ask,” you told him, “but I am here as a favor for Michonne so how about we just accept the new normal?” Negan bowed his head slightly.

“Well then, what exactly do the big shots upstairs want us to do? Compare breakup stories? Organize a block party?”

“I see you haven’t lost your wit,” you pointed out, leaning back in your chair.

“We all have our things, (Y/N),” he said, “I am curious, though,” he went on, “where were you when your people were trying to kill all of mine?”

“Usually on a rooftop,” you explained, “Grimes always had me up high with the guns.” Negan seemed genuinely thrilled by the thought of that.

“And you never got me in your cross-hairs and took a shot? Damn, that is incredibly terrifying.”

“I was never ordered to,” you told him. “I was more surveillance than an assassin.”

“Either way, my men never saw you watchin’ me,” he said and it sounded like a compliment. The way Negan was looking at you reminded you of kids staring at a lion in a zoo. Ironic seeing how he was the one in the cage and not you. Every glance was out of curiosity and you thought you noticed a bit of gratitude in his eyes. Perhaps Michonne and Gabriel were right after all. The man just needed someone to talk to.

“Okay, how about this?” you said, after a moment of silence. He waited for you to continue. “You and I are just gonna talk. You can ask me anything you want and I’ll answer and hopefully, you will return the favor when I want to .” Negan raised a single brow.

“It’s that simple?” he asked.

“Do you want it to be difficult?” you asked. “I think I could add some really brash and annoying terms to the arrangement if you want."

"You are a very strange person," Negan said.

"I'm going to take that as a compliment."

"As you should," Negan said with a cheeky grin. "However, I am curious about one thing. Don't you hate me?" You mulled over his words for a few seconds before shaking your head.

"Hate, it has caused a lot of problems in this world, but has not solved one yet," you quoted easily. Negan's eyes lit up.

"Morrison?"

"Angelou," you corrected.

"Ah," he said. "Wise woman. So what you're saying is that hating me isn't going to solve anything, am I right?"

"Pretty much," you agreed, crossing your arms.

"But I killed your people," he reminded you. Negan was clearly trying to put you off, but you had expected this.

"And I killed your people," you said. "Do you hate me?" Negan scoffed, leaning back on his hands as he watched you through the bars.

"You're good," he complimented.

"You didn't answer my question," you said. Negan licked his lips before shaking his head.

"No, I don't hate you. Although, I don't even know you so that could change." This time you let out a quick laugh that was pure instinct at this point.

"Fair enough," you conceded.

"Alright, (Y/N), if you are so inclined to answer questions, answer me this: how did you end up with this merry bunch of survivors?"

"Simple," you said, "I saved Carl Grimes from a Walker." Negan's face dropped at the mention of the late teenager. You knew about the soft spot Negan had for Carl. It wasn't a mystery, hell, Carl wouldn't have lived long after he attacked the Sanctuary if Negan didn't like him.

"You saved him?" Negan asked, pulling you from your memories.

"Yeah, I met Carl and his mom, Lori, shortly after everything happened," you began, "They, alongside other survivors, were camped at a quarry outside of Atlanta. I was on my own, trying to make it to the coast when I came across their campsite. I was wary of people, of course, but I knew I wouldn't make it far on my own. I stayed around the edge of camp for a while, just gettin' a feel for the people when Carl ran off when Lori wasn't looking. He was running around with another kid from the group." You paused, unsure if you should divulge much more, but Negan was staying entirely focused on your story.

"Carl was with Sophia...Carol's late daughter." Slight surprise entered Negan's eyes, but he remained quiet. You went on, "The two of them got turned around and then Carl being Carl, decided to run off alone without Sophia. He was near me when the Walker came out of the trees and grabbed him. I didn't really think at that moment. I just ran for the kid. I shot the Walker in the head and the next thing I know, I had a crossbow pointed at my back."

"Let me guess, Daryl?" Negan figured.

"Damn right. Son of a bitch thought I was shooting at the kid, but luckily Carl spoke up and explained. They took me back to their camp and Lori insisted I stay so that's what I did."

"And here you are," Negan said, impressed.

"Here I am."

"That kid was pretty damn special," Negan said fondly. "This world really does take the good ones, don't it?"

"I always think that it would have been easier if a person had killed him instead of a Walker, you know? At least then we would have an enemy."

"What, you don't think the Walkers are the enemy?"

"They're just a part of the new world," you explained. "Can't really call them an enemy if they didn't intend to be here in the first place."

Negan was quiet again as your words sank in. In fact, you were surprised that he hadn't spoken over you whenever he got the chance. According to the rest of your friends and family, the man loved to hear himself talk. You stored that new observation away for later.

"In your opinion," Negan said slowly, "what kind of person classifies as an enemy, or rather, just evil?"

"I've seen darkness, Negan," you told him. "We all have and it was before we even heard your name. If you're trying to ask me if I think you’re evil, the answer is no, I don't. Most of us here like myself, Daryl, Michonne, we've all seen what happens when someone has lost all trace of humanity. Seen what they do to other human beings and trust me, those are the evil people of this screwed-up world. You haven't lost your humanity, Negan, and I pray you never will."

Negan leaned his forearms onto his knees, rubbing a calloused hand over his bearded face. Something had clicked inside his head, that much was apparent, but you weren't sure what.

Yet.

"Sounds like you've been through hell," Negan whispered.

"And back," you finished. "Multiple times."

"You gonna tell me that story? About the loss of humanity?" His question wasn't overly eager, instead, it was all curiosity and you were starting to think that was the main characteristic of the man who once called himself the "big bad wolf".

"One day," you nodded. "If you'll let me come back again."

"I get to decide?" he asked, intrigued.

"Yeah, no point in coming down here if you won't talk to me. That would be wasting both of our time."

"Then by all means, (Y/N), feel free to drop by," Negan said, spreading his arms wide in a welcome gesture. You rolled your eyes but nodded.

"If it means anything," you said as you stood from your seat and turned towards the door, "Carl once told me that you were the only person he always trusted to tell him the truth, and coming from him, that's a lot."

Negan looked at you for a long moment before bowing his head. "Thanks for that," he said softly. You gave him a small smile, one more out of understanding than anything. Whether people hated him or not, nobody could deny that he cared about Carl Grimes and that the teen's death had affected him as well.

"I'll see you tomorrow," you told him as you pushed open the heavy door and stepped into the sunlight. Negan didn't call you back as you climbed the steps and began walking home.

You watched as Alexandria spun on, unaware of the emotions that ran deep through you at the moment. Gabriel and Michonne had been right, after all, Negan needed to talk to another human being, but perhaps that was exactly what you needed as well and you had a feeling this was just the beginning of an odd relationship.

TAGS: @thanossexual

#the walking dead #twd imagines #twd imagine #negan imagine #negan #negan x reader #reader insert #daryl dixon x reader #y/n #negan x y/n #the walking dead imagine #TWD fanfiction #the walking dead fanfiction #walkerwords

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oboevallis · 4 years

Note

In “hungry” Links parents haven’t met scout yet. So I’m here to ask if you could maybe write about that. Tysm

hungry pt 2

lol idk what this is my apologies, i hope everyone is doing well and staying safe :)

“Hey.” Link whispered slightly shaking his girlfriend to wake her up. “I’m going to the airport I’ll be back soon.”

“What? Why?” Amelia groggily asked.

“I’m picking up my parents.”

“Ugh.”

“I thought you were excited for them to come?” Link chuckled at his exhausted girlfriend.

“Scout was up all night. I’ve barely had any sleep and the house is a mess.”

“They’re not gonna care about the house being a mess. They’re staying in a hotel anyway.” He moved her hair behind her ear so it wasn’t obstructing her vision.

“Well I care.”

“You don’t need to.”

“Is the baby awake yet?”

“Nope, out like a light. He must be exhausted after last night.”

“I’m exhausted after last night.” She emphasized turning her face into her pillow.

________________________________________

“I can’t believe my baby’s had a baby. It’s so good to see you Link.” Maureen smiled as she hugged her son tightly.

“You too.” He reciprocated the hug, he was grateful they were starting to repair their relationship. “Let me get your bags.”

“I’ve got them.” Eric affirmed as he put the bags into his sons car.

“So how’s the baby been?” Maureen asked once everyone was settled in the car.

“He’s good. Won’t let us sleep though.”

“I remember getting so worried because I thought you were sleeping too much.”His mother reminisced. “Scout must get that from Amelia, you were always out like a light”

“Yeah, that’s what her mom said. Amelia was a difficult baby, her siblings were always good sleepers apparently.” Link chuckled recalling the conversation they had with her mother.

“How many siblings does she have?” Eric asked curiously, they didn’t know much about the woman as they had only met her once for about a half hour. And Link was pretty private about his life.

“She has three sisters and a brother.”

“Wow that’s a big family.” Maureen stated surprised, their family had always been tiny with just the three of them and then they broke up making it smaller. “Does she want to have a family like that?”

“We haven’t really talked about it. We’re just focused on Scout right now.”

“You two don’t seem to be planners anyway.” Eric chuckled.

“That’s factual.” Link chuckled as he pulled up to the hotel. “So I’ll be back in about an hour? Is that alright?”

“That’ll be just fine.” Maureen kissed her sons cheek and got out of the car with her husband.

_______________________________________

When Link got back to the apartment he realized his girlfriend was still asleep. He smirked at the sight, glad she was getting sleep. She always insisted on being the one to check on him while he was crying, he assumed it was because she was always on high alert worried she’d lose another baby. She’d recently agreed to see a therapist and they were working through her anxieties. He walked into his sons room to see him still fast asleep.

“Ah, your a good boy. You let your mommy get some sleep.” The boys father grazed his hand across the baby’s face to wake him up. The boy whined a bit, irritated to be woken up.

Link carefully picked his son up and completed his morning routine, getting him ready to spend time with his parents. He checked on his girlfriend one last time to see her still fast asleep, the sight making him smile. He walked towards the door and threw the diaper bag over his shoulder while he held his son with his other arm.

“I feel like we’re forgetting something. Are we forgetting something?” He asked the baby who was happily babbling reaching out for his fathers chin. “I’m taking that as a no. We’re not forgetting anything.”

He situated his son in his car seat, and made his way over to the hotel. Looking through the rear view mirror he saw his son reaching for his feet, his sons innocence and curiosity always brought a smile to his face. He pulled up to the hotel where his parents were already outside waiting.

“This must be Scout.” Maureen cooed as she sat in the backseat so she could be next to her grandson. “He’s adorable Link.”

“Where’s Amelia?” Eric asked as he got into the passenger seat beside his son.

“When I got home she was out like a light. I thought it’d be best to let her get some sleep, she hasn’t slept like this in a long time.”

“Do you guys take shifts taking care of the baby?” Maureen asked as she played with the baby’s feet, which caused him to shriek with laughter.

“We try, doesn’t always end up working though. Anytime the baby wakes up she wakes up, and even if it’s my shift she ends up following me. And whenever it’s her shift I come to make sure she’s okay.”

“What’d you do to make her not trust you with the baby?” Eric chuckled, he imagined his son did something immature to make his girlfriend mad at him.

“Oh, no it’s not that. She’s just worried somethings gonna happen to him. Her anxieties are dying down a bit though.”

“When your a parent you’ll never stop being worried.” Maureen informed her son. “I still worry over you. And your all grown up and have a baby of your own.”

“Yeah starting to realize that never really goes away.” The ortho surgeon nervously said as he parked the car.

_______________________________________

“This little guy seems to love sports.” Eric laughed looking at the baby who was mesmerized by a softball game going on in the park.

“Much to Amelia’s dismay.” Link laughed thinking about all the times she told him she didn’t want their son participating in any sport that could cause brain damage. “The poor kid will probably be walking to school with a helmet on.”

“I don’t blame her. I remember how enraged I was at your father for signing you up for baseball.” Maureen said whilst looking at her husband.

“What?” Eric asked holding his hands up defensively. “The kid loved baseball. Still does actually.”

“Yeah, I’m so excited to take this guy to his first baseball game.” Link smiled at his son who was being cuddled by his grandmother.

“You were about five when we took you to your first game. You were so excited you nearly passed out before we got into the stadium.” Eric laughed at the fond memory. Link could vividly remember that game, the Mariners had won. The fussy baby taking everyone out of their thoughts.

“I’ll take him.” Link held out his hands for his mother to pass him the baby. As he held the baby he was digging through the diaper bag looking for a bottle, it was his usual feeding time. “Crap, crap, crap.”

“What’s the matter?” Eric asked surprised in the change of his sons demeanor.

“I forgot his bottle. I knew I was forgetting something before we left.” Link and his parents stood up collecting their stuff to take to the car.

_______________________________________

“Did you forget something?” Amelia asked holding up a baby bottle that he assumed she had just pumped.

“Yes.” Link admitted with embarrassment as he walked into their apartment with their crying baby.

“Eric and Maureen, it’s very nice to see you again.” Amelia greeted politely, as she took the baby from her boyfriend.

“You as well.” Maureen smiled as her son lead them to the couch. “You guys have a gorgeous home.”

“Link over here, decorated it all himself. Also a bunch of DIY projects.” Amelia chuckled raising her eyebrows at him, she’d never let him forget the time he made her walk around Home Goods and Lowe’s for hours while she was heavily pregnant.

“Yeah sorry about that.” Link knew what she was implying. “I made her walk around a bunch of different stores while she was heavily pregnant. She was not interested to say the least.”

“I could’ve cared less of what you did with the apartment, you were so insistent that I’d vouch an opinion though.”

“And you were no help at all! You just kept saying ‘I don’t care whatever you want’ it was very irritating.”

“Well I had to give you a hard time considering you want let me get another soft pretzel.” The older couple smiled at one another, it warmed their heart to see the couple bicker with one another as though they were an old married couple. Link simply shook his head in disbelief and sat down on the couch wrapping his arm around his girlfriends shoulder as she fed their son.

“How are you guys doing?” Amelia asked suddenly embarrassed for not asking sooner and forgetting they were there for a minute while she was engrossed in conversation with her boyfriend.

“We’ve been good, we’ve been so excited to meet Scout. He’s absolutely adorable.” Maureen answered. “Has your mom met him yet?”

“Not yet, she lives in New York.” Amelia answered, she suddenly felt like she was in an interrogation.

“We’re planning on going to New York to spend Christmas with her family.” Link smiled, he was quite excited to meet her family properly. Amelia was the opposite, she still had a few months to convince him that they shouldn’t go.

“New York is quite the trip away from Seattle, how’d you end up here?” Eric asked curiously he wanted to know more about his sons girlfriend as Link usually kept it generic.

“My brother offered me a job here, but I was in LA prior.”

“So was Link, I’m surprised you two never bumped into each other.” Maureen added surprised to hear.

“Well Mom, she was working at a medial practice, I was working at a bike shop.”

“Oh right.” Maureen nodded sadly, that was one of the darkest places she’s ever seen her son. “I’m sure all Link does in his free time is play his guitar, do you play any instruments Amelia?”

“I don’t actually, I love listening to Link play though. I think it’d be nice if Scout played an instrument, I wouldn’t want to force him or anything. I just think it’d be much better than a sport.”

“I feel that, when Link started to play baseball I was terrified, especially after his cancer I just wanted to wrap him up in bubble wrap.” The couples kept with the small talk and started to learn more about one another. Amelia eventually went to put the baby to bed, while Link drove his parents to the hotel.

“I’ll meet you upstairs Maureen.” His wife nodded and wished her son good night before heading into the hotel. He dug into his pocket before passing a ring box to his son.

“Is this grandma’s ring?” Link asked as he opened up the box.

“It is. After seeing you and Amelia today I realized you really love her. This isn’t you staying out of obligation, I’ve never seen you like this over a girl.”

“Cause I haven’t been. Amelia, she drives me crazy but I can’t imagine my life without her. It’s crazy how much I love her and our son.” Link told his father as he looked at the ring. “Are you sure? I mean this was your moms ring.”

“I’m sure. Doesn’t have to be now, but eventually. She’s the one.”

“Thank you dad.” Link brought his father into an awkward hug over the cars console.

#amelia shepherd #amelink #atticus lincoln #baby amelink #greys anatomy #greysanatomy #greys fanfic #eric lincoln #marueen lincoln

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