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generallybrontidefeelings · 3 years

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Stressed

Rating: NC-17

A/N: Brought to you by this post. I'm tired and sleepy and don't want to make any decisions. The degree is an actual MS you can get from American University in DC. U of Tennessee’s anthropology dept. hosts what’s called a body farm. It's a lab for forensic pathology students. Do NOT I repeat DO NOT look up pictures.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x reader, Marcus Pike x you

Summary: Marcus Pike is an associate faculty member at your forensics college. You ask him to be your second reader for your thesis, even though you have a huge crush on him. Nothing is better than something, right? By the time you pass your exam, you're so pent up you could scream.

Warnings: cadaver talk, pining, age difference, some power dynamics?, annoying college talk, sex, dirty talk, a God awful metaphor curtesy of Blanche Devereaux, 39

“Take a deep breath.”

You huff in a small shallow breath. Then let it out, and take in a longer, fuller one.

“Now let it out.” You let your cheeks puff up as cool air streams past your lips. “You’ve made huge improvements, and you’ve studied hard. The paper exam will be easy, and the oral will be a cinch.”

You gulp. “I know. It’s just...pre-show jitters, you know?”

He gives you a full smile, and flips the document shut. You hand him the binder clip, accidentally brushing his fingers when you do.

"Anything else I can do for you?"

You swallow, fiddling with your paper edge. God you feel like a twelve year old. You're fucking twenty-seven and about to apply for the FBI, why are you such a sap? He’s not available. Not even remotely. He will be gone in a year, back to the Bureau. There is no reason to nurse a crush. And you curse yourself for asking a man you’re attracted to - you, idiot, idiot! - to spend more time with you. Even if it is reading your dull chapter.

"No, I have everything I need, thanks."

"Then scoot. I have to read like...thirty pages of Tanner's chapter before he gets here."

You pull your bag to your shoulder. "you're not going to get that far," you scoff. The tensing in your shoulders relaxes a little when you stand to leave.

"We'll see," he says. He opens the door of his office for you. You glance back once more, and he's still in the doorway watching you go. "See you tomorrow."

"See you." Your mind swirls back and forth between thoughts of Mr. Pike, your thesis, Pike, your oral defence, your paper exam in two days, Marcus crossing his ankles in his reading chair. And you walk. Straight ahead, not looking back. But when you get to the door handle you turn around. And he's still there. Watching.

You've never been so stressed in your life.

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You met Marcus Pike on a muggy afternoon in August deep in the heart of Tennessee. The air warped off the pavement as you drove together to the School of Anthropology to visit your cadaver lying relaxed and prostrate in the middle of a fenced field. The air is already warm, then lightning flashes in the clouds to your right, and plopping rain drops scatter across the lawn, and dampens A-0017’s second hand suit. His raisinette hands lie against the grass almost like he’s communing with the earth. You watched the water hit his face, and permanently closed eyelids, and shaved head.

You had no business being so fidgety while kneeling next to a cadaver. Agent Marcus Pike and the facility director chat a couple feet away, leaving you to your business with A-0017. Pike had never been to the school’s mysterious forensics lab, even though he had plenty of time to when he was earning his own masters. That’s what he said in his email to you three weeks earlier. He’d heard a first-year student was running a fibrous material experiment and asked to tag along. And you said yes. Why not? He was faculty. It wasn’t unheard of. His email was so polite too, letting you know if you weren’t comfortable he understood. Pike. The name rattled a memory somewhere. So you emailed him back, and the next morning he sent you his itinerary: he would meet you in Tennessee. He’d even pay for the rental car.

You sent your advisor a quick text to ask if he was ‘crazy.’ She’d sent back the laughing emoji. No, she said, Marcus Pike isn’t a crazy. You’ll like him.

You did like him. He was waiting for you at the Hertz desk, and heat licked up your skin when you realized - he was striking. He was the type of man you’d make eyes at in a bar without any hope of even getting a number. His brown hair was neatly trimmed, and he had a softness brought on by a light scruff that didn’t hide his dimples. You barely registered that he was apologizing for not getting to introduce himself before flying out, but promised he was who he said he was. Even pulled out his credentials.

“Bureau?” you said to his badge. “I thought you were an associate professor?” You want to smack yourself.

Oh, “I am,” he replied. He dug in his wallet and pulled out a campus ID that matched yours. “I’m taking an interim year. I thought teaching would be a nice way to ease into DC life.”

Now he was here, sweating under the storm clouds while watching you unbutton A-0017’s shirt, and half listening to the director tell him all about how they kept the lawn looking green despite, ahem, fluids. You sternly told A-0017 to be on their best behavior while you pulled their shirt back to examine some fiber swatches stapled to his rubbery chest.

On the flight back Pike asked you all about your thesis plans. You stuttered as you began. He waited, patient. You were writing on how the FBI could contribute to cultural repatriation efforts internationally by returning art pieces. Do you know what it could do to boost scholarly opportunities? The doors it could open! Why put it in cold storage when it could revitalize movements? Art breathes, after all. You were exhausted by the time the plane landed. Both from answering questions, and from keeping a steadily building tension under wraps. You hoped he didn’t notice how you crossed your legs.

“I’d love to read it.” He handed your backpack down from the overhead bin.

“Maybe you should be my second reader.” You got serious when his face perked up. “I still need one.”

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That was nine months ago.

Your exams are in a week, and instead of thinking about preparing, all you can think of is that once everything is turned in, you probably won’t see Marcus again. He’s been your anchor these last months, and you’ve gotten used to his solid presence and encouraging platitudes. You cup your hot cheeks because it’s a dirty thought.

He lets you work in his office for a couple hours a week every week. The crammed little space is tight quarters, but he makes room for your laptop anyway. Sometimes you worked together heads bent for full time. Sometimes he read pages from your thesis, and you help him grade some papers from his first-year art history course. And sometimes you drink three pm coffee together and don’t work at all. It’s your favorite time of the week. The glow his praise gives you is embarrassing. And he’s an easy companion - nope, colleague. Your heart beats and your mouth waters every time you’re fifteen feet from his office door. The cold door knob jolts you took. You harbor a secret. Keep it warm in your belly. It swirls hungrily deep in you.

But now it’s a problem. You’re so distracted. Every time you leave his office, you’re tense from want. Your body is already over-caffeinated and achy from sitting in hard library chairs so long. But you keep going. Every time an anxious heat lights up the alarms in your head your instinct is to ask him what to do. You have to rest your hands in your head and remind yourself: he isn’t your babysitter, he’s a grown man who doesn’t have boundless time to tell you what to do. You have to figure it out yourself. Even if you really just want him to tell you what this or that section needs, is the title here misleading, is it lunch time, do you think the tone here is condescending?

What do you think? What do you want it to look like?

You think you want to grab his dumb button down collars and bite his lip. You want it to look flushed and tousled and desperate. You want to ride him in his reading chair with the door locked. It just isn’t fair.

The night before your first exam you take z-quil, drink lavender tea, and read a chapter of your favorite book to relax. Your phone buzzes at nine. It’s Marcus: good luck! You’re going to do great! Well. Better take some more Z-quill now that your heart is palpitating.

You pass both tests in excellent standing - MS in International Relations: complete. Pike attends the oral exam. Your skin goes hot when he smiles at you when the committee declares you exceed expectations. He invites you for a celebratory drink in the next couple days, which means you have two days to sternly wrangle your crush back into the dirty corner she came from.

You fail miserably.

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“Look,” he says, setting his beer down on the glass bar counter. “I know it’s not my business, but you still look stressed out. Are your grades bothering you?”

The rim of your gin and tonic is wet with condensation from where your finger circles it. “No, they’re great.”

He bumps your shoulder with his. “Then what’s the damage? You’re jumpier than a…” he trails off thinking a good metaphor. He squints at you a little.

“A virgin at a prison rodeo?” you supply. He inhales sharply, eyes wide. “You can laugh.”

“I didn’t know you watched ‘The Golden Girls,” he says. His tone is admiring. “I was going to say jumpier than a graduate student giving their defense.” You purse your lips when he raises his eyebrows at you. “Can I help at all?”

You watch his Adam’s apple bob when he takes another sip of his beer. The soft orange lights in the bar spill around his jaw and throat, they flicker in his irises. His face in three quarter profile is august. You’re utterly exhausted from the polite ‘student mentor’ dance you’ve had to do for months while keeping your desire at bay. And more than that, you didn’t want to answer. You wanted to show him and let him decide. The sultry washboard and piano music give you that last boost.

You make sure he’s watching you, then you slowly reach out and wrap your fingers around his wrist.

Then you wait.

Marcus pauses from lifting his beer bottle, eyes glued to your hand on his wrist. It’s petite against him. He stares at your baby blue fingernails pairing beautifully with his Stirling watch - and he feels himself harden.

All the skin on your body stands at attention when he meets your eyes. Everything in them tells you he wants you just as bad. There’s a hesitant curve above his eyebrow though. You get it. You were his student - he’s such a sweet man he wouldn’t even dream of using a power dynamic like that to get laid. Your breath comes in short heaves.

“The semester ended thirty-six minutes ago,” you say over the music. He takes a deep breath. You aren’t his student anymore. Not according to the school, anyway.

You want him to decide. If he doesn’t, you’ll go home and fall apart under your fingertips thinking about how hot it would have been to lift your dress and sit on his cock while wearing your thigh highs.

“Do you want to leave?” You nod, resisting the urge to bite your lip.

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Marcus’s apartment is homey. Streetlights flood the floor of the living room through the street facing windows. You turn this way and that to inspect the dark areas that look like bookshelves while he hangs up your coat. You squeeze your hands at your sides, because this is happening. You’re in his house. The hardwood floor is cold under your stocking feet.

You jump when he puts his hands on your shoulders from behind you, holding you a mere inch from his body. You bite your lip when his nose bumps into the back of your head.

“Are you sure about this?”

“You already asked me that,” you reply, letting your head fall back on his shoulder. You want so badly to tell him to tell you what to do. That you don’t want to make any decisions. Brain is worn out. That you want to please him, and not think. Oh, to be a freshmen simply sponging up information.

“I know,” he slides his hands to your biceps and turns you around. “I can check in again, can’t I? He cups your face when you nod. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes, please,” you have to stop yourself from saying something incriminating, like mister Pike, or sir, or professor.

You clutch the front of his button down to anchor yourself when his lips brush yours. His mouth is soft. It coaxes you to open so he can dive into you, his tongue swipes your bottom lip, and you respond by pressing into him. You stay pliant under him, letting him lead. Your legs feel on the verge of collapse when you break away. You can’t stand it anymore.

“I want to suck your cock.”

Both of you freeze. For a second you wonder if you’ve given him a heart attack. But you watched his thighs on the car ride back and couldn’t stop thinking about kneeling between them. Your mouth waters. Marcus can’t breathe. He’s straining against his zipper. After your declaration he wants it too.

“Okay, honey,” he breathes. He brushes your ear with his thumb. “If that’s what you want, we’ll do that.”

He tries to draw you backward toward his room where he can turn on a lamp and properly pay tribute to your body, but you pull him back. You tug him to his mid-century armchair - he has the twin to it in his office. His mouth goes dry. You have to know. He looks into your face, and from the way you’ve averted your eyes, you know.

“Please?” you say. It sounds like a sob.

From this close you can smell the vanilla and bergamot of his soap. He sits, waiting for you. When you don’t move he holds his hand out for you to take.

“Come here, honey,” he draws you close. The top of your dress swings a little and he groans when he sees the break of your dress to what he thought were tights. Marcus studies your face in the second hand street light - your mouth parted, your eyes blown wide. Your hand in his is hot. “Hey, if this is overwhelming, or not what you want-”

“It is,” you correct him.

“Tell me what’s wrong then,” he requests. You feel pained. If you don’t say it now you never will.

“Tell me what to do.” Your head aches from the stress of carrying it for so long. “I’ve had to make my own decisions for months, and I don’t want to anymore. Just - for five minutes-” you bring your hands to your cheeks and press them against your hot skin. You watch as he realizes what you want. He nods in slow motion.

“Okay,” he says. “Kneel for me.” He gets even harder when you sink to your knees. Your hands rest in your lap. Waiting. He can’t believe this is happening. Thank goodness he’s going back to the Bureau in three months. He couldn’t face the other faculty - fuck, your advisor - after this. Leaning forward he cups your chin and kisses you. You squeeze your thighs together. He kisses your ear and says lowly, “take my cock out, honey. I want you to suck me off.”

When you take him in your mouth as far as you can, you look into his face. His mouth has fallen open. His ears have turned red from flushing. It’s indescribable. It makes your mouth water further around his hard length. It’s heavy on your tongue. You move up and down his shaft leisurely, trying to savor it. Letting saliva run down onto his skin as your tongue works the spongy head. You reach up to work the base with your hand when he tells you ‘no’.

“Just your mouth.” Fuck. You moan around him as a ripple pulls from deep in your core. The vibrations of you moaning make him jolt and heave. For a few moments he apologies while you breathe deeply, then resume. You take a mouthful of him. It’s feasting. It’s mindless.

His fingers brush the side of your face, and tenderly cups the back of your head. You want to make him understand this is what you want. So you slide down as far as you can comfortably, and wait. Swallowing thickly around his length

“Fuck, honey,” he groans. He gets it, taking both hands and moving your head the pace he wants. You can tell he hasn’t been asked for this often. Maybe ever. You close your eyes and just feel. His cock filling your mouth. Aches forming around your jaw. Tears leaking out of your eyes from your concentration. Your pussy wetting through your underwear. Marcus pulling your hair. You swallow hard, then he stops. And pushes you off.

You whine in protest.

“I hear you, honey,” he says softly. His voice is hoarse. “Another time. I want you to unwind right now.” Your pussy clenches.

He takes you back to his bedroom and helps you undress. He lifts your dress over your head, and kneels to help you out of your thigh highs. One day, if you’ll let him, he’ll fuck you with them on, but he likes to see all of a woman the first time he does anything to her. He kisses the bit of skin above the waistband of your panties before standing to kiss your lips. Your help him push them down your hips until they fall to your ankles. The soft gasp he lets out at the sight of your underwear and bare body is nothing short of gluttonous.

“Lay down.”

He strips while you watch. He does it without taking his eyes off of you. There’s hunger in them. This man has an appetite, you know it. The fabric rustles pleasantly between the sound of both of you breathing. Far away, ambulance sirens blare in another neighborhood, but here in his apartment the wet sound of cars passing in the rainy street are the closest accompaniment.

“I want to touch you here,” he tells you, palming your sex and making you squeak. It’s so forward.

“Do it,” you breathe, and part your legs further for him. He leans in and kisses your temple, murmuring ‘good girl’ and you swear you could black out.

You’re already so wet when his fingers part your folds to greet the new territory. “Did sucking my cock get you wet?” He sounds amazed. He tastes one fingertip before putting it back to tease your folds. “I wonder how wet you would be just holding it in your mouth while you read.”

“Oh-” a ripple works down your spine. He smirks. The tip of his finger brushes just inside your lips to tease your entrance.

“I’m going to put my fingers in you. You,” he pauses to kiss your cheek, “relax. You earned it.” He rubs his nose up and down yours, and you nudge him back just as he slips one long finger into you. You’re glad he’s being sweet like this. It’s the perfect blend of firmness and care. You want him to dominate you one someday, maybe, but right here and now, the combination of his low voice and steady fingers is ideal. Marcus kisses your cheek and mouth as he works his finger in and out of you. It’s thick and reaches further than you ever could. You spread your legs even further to tell him, more.

Without removing his hand he moves down your body to lick your clit. He sucks and flicks it as he coaxes more wetness out of your leaking cunt. Carefully he pulls the finger out and presses his wet hand to the inside of your thigh to keep you open. He laps into you, covering the muscles with lubricant because you’re going to need it. You see his face just as he decides you’re ready; it’s contemplative, like he’s concentrating. Then he slides two fingers deep into you.

“Oh, fuck, that’s so fucking good,” your voice crescendos. You reach for his shoulder as he comes up to lie beside you. His skin is warm under your palm. You buck your hips looking for something else, seeking, wanting-

“Stay still.” You still immediately. “Just feel it, baby. I want you to be ready for me.” You know what he means. His cock is thick and smearing against your hip. He was big in your mouth, he’s going to be big while pushing into you. His fingers keep moving while he kisses the tips of your nipples. When he takes one between his teeth and tugs you break. Your mouth opens, and your legs clamp reflexively around his wrist. Your pussy gushes around his fingers - you can feel it. You can feel how his movements change from a drag as a slide. He keeps pumping. He doesn’t give up until he’s sure you’ve felt every aftershock. He’d love to take his time and work a third in one day - if he can - but tonight, he wants to move on. After you swallowed his cock in his sitting room chair he’s been thinking of rewarding you.

You feel him slip his fingers out, and roll away to the nightstand. He looks back at you, and his eyes soften a little before he asks, “do you want me to use a condom?”

“No,” you say and reach for his bicep to pull him back toward you. He comes willingly. “I have an IUD. And I’m clean.” He smiles, flinging the packet over his shoulder. It makes you giggle, but it sounds hysterical to your ears. You watch him reach down and pump his cock with the hand that was just inside you. You close your eyes and take a deep breath.

“Look at me,” he orders. Your eyes snap open. Marcus crashes his lips on yours. The hand not dripping from your cunt cups the back of your head. “I want to see your eyes while I fuck you.”

His blunt head breaks into you, you lose all thought. He sinks further in, until you’re squirming on his length because he’s stretching you. You suck air in and will your body will stay still like he suggested for his fingers. You look into Marcus’s eyes the whole time, trying to tell him how good he feels. You can’t make the words leave your throat. He pulls your head to him, kisses your mouth until you compose yourself and lie still. Then he gets to work. The breadth of him stills you anew. For the first time in months you fully relax, hardly making a sound as he thrusts steadily. You stare into Marcus’s eyes while your mouth falls open as he slides into you, and listen to the wet sounds of your pussy and the bed frame creaking.

Then he starts talking.

“Do you know how good you look in those blue trousers? I want to grab your ass every time you wear them,” he rumbles. His pace picks up a hair, and he feels harder in you somehow. He drops to his forearm. “I love watching it when you walk out of my office.” You knew it. “And that damn cardigan you never wear a shirt under? Those buttons slip right open, don’t they?” He punctuates it with a deep thrust that makes you squeak. “Answer me.”

“Yes.”

“Wear it over for dinner. I’ll bite your tits through it.”

He fucks into you harder, sending shivers up your spine with every thrust. It moves you up the bed until you have to reach a hand up and press back against the headboard. You clutch him with the other, looping around his shoulder to feel the muscles in his arms pull and tug as he moves in you, working you up to another release Soon enough, the coil in your belly tightens and he reaches to worry your clit with deft fingers. His eyes never leave you. You think this man could make the hardest fuck feel like making love.

“I need more,” you tell him. You’re too embarrassed to ask for what you want. A tear leaks out of your eye because his thickness is so good, but you want something else too. You always underestimate him. He grins because he knows - he’s a detective. He figured it out. He leans down to rest his forehead on your temple.

“You’re doing so well,” he says. You arch up into him, your breasts brush his chest. “Your wet pussy is so sweet. It’s taking me so well. Are you gonna be respectful? Gonna listen?” You have to hold your breath as your hips tense. “Be good and come on my cock.” Oh fuck. “Say it.”

Your voice is wet with joy. “Yes, sir.”

“Such a good girl.”

Sparks lick up your back and through your cunt, forcing Marcus deeper into when you lift your lips. He slows to let you enjoy all your release. He kisses your neck, your jaw, your lips. Then when he hears your content sigh, he buries his face in your neck and chases his own release. He comes with an accompanying rumble from deep in his chest. You moan in return and lift your lips to catch him as he slumps, barely holding his weight off of you.

Water runs in the washroom as you tug the sheets back. The light clicks off, and Marcus appears with a washcloth. His dimple appears when you lean back and let him clean your tender flesh. He sits on the edge of the bed next to your hips, running his knuckles on the soft side of your breast.

“Stay the night,” says. “I’ll cook you breakfast.”

“Hm,” you say, mock contemplative. You run your fingers down his chest. He preens under the affection. “I will. I feel really good.” Your cheeks tingle at the admission. He smiles wide and bright.

He comes back from putting the cloth in the hamper. You roll so he can run his hands the length of your side

“Thank you,” you murmur. He lifts his face from where he’s been peppering your waist with kisses. His brow is furrowed in amused confusion. “For being good to me. For caring about what happened to me.” You’ll tell him the horror stories your friends have from their college another time.

He sighs and cups your cheek. “I like doing it. You’re bright. Supporting you is a privilege. Especially when I know that brain is going to put us all to shame one day.” You could cry.

“I’ve liked you since the body farm,” you admit. He wrinkles his nose. “I know. Not very romantic.”

“I liked you since you thought my campus ID was more official than my FBI badge.”

“I didn’t think that!”

“Get some sleep,” he says. A wicked glint comes to his eye. “I am going to wear you out before lunch.” You wiggle to get comfortable in the sheets and he curls over your back to hold you to his chest.

Orange light peeks through the gap in his blackout drapes. You eye him over your shoulder then settle into the pillow. All the tension in your shoulders is gone.

part 2

#marcus pike #marcus pike fanfiction #the mentalist #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x you #reader insert #fanfiction #writing #the mentalist fanfiction #I took some liberties with UT's school of anthros forensics lab #it does exist #DO NOT LOOK UP PICTURES #IF YOU ARE SQUEAMISH #DON'T DO IT #I AM NOT SQUEAMISH AND DO RESEARCH WITH CADAVERS #BUT IF YOU ARE SQUEAMISH #DONT #DO #IT

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xxfanficnationxx · 4 years

Text

Lacuna// Teen wolf Rewrite

Wolf Moon Part 2

Part 1

Masterlist

Pairing: Stiles x Reader (Eventually)

Warnings: none really

A/N: I really love to put visuals, its my favorite part of writing. But if it gets too annoying then ill stop. I’m trying to make the reader as bad-ass as possible. I really wanted her to be extroverted and forward, basically the opposite of me. Hope you enjoy!

You awoke early, 30 mins before your alarm. The events from last night still fresh in your mind. It’s time for school, so you began to get ready. Lucky for you, you had been planning your first day outfit for a while, it was laid on your dresser ready. Before you got ready, you went to check your bandage on your leg. It was almost soaked but dry with blood, it looked like it was even turning black. But then… you removed it, and the bite was gone. Completely gone. ‘Did I imagine it all?’

You heard keys clinking and steps coming up the stairs. “Knock knock, sleepy head” your aunt began to open the door. You quickly grabbed the bandage and tucked it under the sheets. Thank god it was dried blood. “Oh!” She exclaimed “You’re awake. That’s surprising. You excited to go to school! Make some friends?” She started to dance to you, sitting next to you and poking your sides. Even though she worked a full night shift. She still had so much energy.

“Ughhh” you groan, falling back into your bed and pulling your pillow up to your face to block her out. “No! No new friends. Just get through the rest of high school.” She stands and starts to walk out. Chuckling to herself lightly.

“Okay, okay. Well. Get ready! And let me know when we need to go.” She walks out and shuts your door.

You grabbed the outfit and made your way to the bathroom to do your makeup and hair. You put on your outfit and stare in the mirror.

You actually look good, taking into consideration how you feel.

Your aunt dropped you off a little later than the other kids because the principal wanted to meet with you beforehand. You walked onto the walkway leading to the front doors of the school, you saw a girl digging through her bag on the phone with someone. Then a man came walking towards the both of you.

“Sorry to keep you two girls waiting” she looks up at him then to you. “Allison, this is Y/n.Y/n this is Allison.” She holds out her hand.

“Nice to meet you.” A gorgeous smile graced upon her lips.

“Nice to meet you too!” You reply, a bright smile as well.

“So y/n you from Seattle?” The man states as he walks towards the door.

“Yes I am, but I lived here before. Years and years ago.” You smile

“Oh yes, and Allison San Francisco isn’t where you grew up?” He asks as he opens the door.

“No, but we lived there for more than a year, which is unusual in my family.” She replies. Already peaking your interest

“Well hopefully beacon hills will be your last stop for a while. Both of you.” He turns his head and looks at you. You smile, nodding your head. He opens a door leading you both in. “Class these are your new students, Allison Argent and Y/n Y/l/n. Please do your best to make them feel welcome.” He exits the room. And you see a seat open by the window. Allison lowers her head and walks to another seat, a boy turning and giving her a pen. She gives him a puzzled look before smiling and saying “Thanks.”

You sit down setting your stuff down and preparing to highlight the hell of the syllabus. “Well begin with Kafka’s Metamorphosis on page 133.” The teacher says.

You feel a tap on your shoulder so you turn slightly. “Hi, you said your name was Y/n” you nod feeling slightly uncomfortable. “Did you live here before? My names Stiles.” You lightly gasp as you start to recognize his features.

“Yes, yes I did live here, umm hi Stiles. I don’t know if you remember me. I mean hell I barely remember you.” You smile.

“Ms. Y/l/n, please turn around.” You slowly turn to pay attention. Slightly red in the cheeks for already getting called out.

You feel the boy behind you start to sit up and whispers “I remember the name.” You smile. Still looking forward. Happy he remembers. Even if it’s only slightly.

The bell rings, finally school ended and you see Allison up at her locker. You decide that it might be easier to be new girls together then apart. “Hi!” She jumps a little you start to say sorry but she stops you.

“Y/n! I’m sorry for being so jumpy! Just a little bit overwhelmed.” She opens her locker pacing her binder in it.

“Tell me about it” you laugh a little. “So I was thinking you know, it’s probably better being new girls together rather than a-“ some redhead walks up and interrupts you.

“That jacket is absolutely killer. Where’d you get it” you can tell Allison is a bit uncomfortable. She gives you soft look and looks back at the girl.

“My mom was a buyer for a boutique back in San Francisco.” She nods slightly

The redhead looks at you. “And that outfit, I can tell I have some competition this year” She laughs. Points at both Allison and you and says “and you two are my new best friends.”

At this point some boy comes up the her and starts sucking her face. You didn’t even know this girls name, at least you can tell your aunt you already made friends. You jerk your head a bit when you hear a girls voice loud and clear in your ear “can somebody tell me how new girls are here all of five minuets, and they’re already hanging out with Lydia’s clique?” You look away, trying not to make it obvious you can hear their conversation clearly. How strange.

Another voice comes through. You recognize it as Stiles from earlier. “Because they’re hot. Beautiful people herd together.” You blush a little bit. “Scott you see that one girl. Yeah I think that’s y/n from when we were you-“ your focus is cut off from their conversation as Lydia starts to talk about a party this weekend.

“Yeah Friday night, you should come.” Jackson says looking at you and Allison like we would be insane if we didn’t go. Allison begins making excuses of not going. But honestly to you, it seems fun.

“Yeah sure totally I’ll go.” Lydia, as you now know because of that one girl from earlier, looks up at you and smiles

“Everyone’s going after the scrimmage” Jackson says.

“You mean football?” Allison asks.

“Footballs a joke in beacon.” Jackson laughs “the sport here is lacrosse” interesting. Seattle was all about football. “We’ve won state championship for the past three years.”

Lydia goes on about how amazing Jackson is but you couldn’t stop thinking about how you could hear the other’s conversation a while ago. Was it just a Fluke. “Perfect. You’re coming” she grabs both Allison and your hands leading you to the field. You sit in between Allison and Lydia, really not excited about being there. You throw a quick text to your aunt about staying after school and that you’d just walk home, she was sleeping, but you liked to make sure she knew what was going on.

You see stiles walk into the field with the same boy from first period. He didn’t see you, but you couldn’t help but stare. “Who is that” you hear Allison say.

“Him?” Lydia replies. “I’m not sure who he is.”

“Isn’t that Scott? Scott Mcall. Always hanging around Stiles?” You say. Making the connection. “We all used to be really good friends when we were young.“ you look away slightly red in the face.

“He’s in our English class” she says. Then the refs whistle goes off. Scaring you a bit. It was loud. But you look to the field and notice Scott cowering and grabbing his ears just like you, only his seemed worse. You wondered for just a bit if he was experiencing the same thing you have been.

Scott gets hit in the face and you flinch. That must have hurt. You see stiles in the corner of your eye shake his head. Just like that Scott started to catch balls perfectly. You hear stiles chirp with happiness. Making you smile, he really was goofy.

“He seems like he’s pretty good!” Allison says.

“Very good” Lydia replies.

You start to zone out at this point. Staring at Stiles. He was jumping around like a maniac. He’s actually super cute, isn’t he.

After practice, you make the trek home. Smiling to yourself about how well today actually went. Then you realized something. The bite, it’s healed. So is your wrist. Could the hearing and sense of smell be some kind of response your brain is making to the bite! Is it rabies. Oh dear, I hope it’s not rabies.

Your scrambled thoughts are interrupted by a car passing by. It’s a bright blue Jeep. It stops abruptly maybe 20 feet or so in front of you. You walk up, slightly worried you’re about to be kidnapped. As you get closer you can hear who's in there.

“Let’s just pick her up. She walking all by herself. That’s not okay!” You recognized the voice of Scott.

“Okay, but if she turns out to be some kind of serial killer, coming for revenge of all her childhood friends. I’m leaving you in the dust” Stiles says. You laugh a bit and walked the last 10 feet up to the window.

“I promise I won’t kill you” You say in an ominous tone.

“Ahh!” Stiles jumps and turns around. “Jesus, you heard that? How’d you hear that? You were like 20 feet away.” Scott look at you, head cocked a bit and squinted eyes.

“You speak louder than you think.” You say with a chuckle. “So… a ride?”

If you have any requests or just want someone to talk to, i’m here!

#teenwolf #teenwolfrewrite #teenwolf rewite #teen wolf #teenwolf masterlist #series rewrite #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinkski imagine

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ts-adventure · 5 years

Text

6/4/2019: showtime!

(Cw for medical stuff throughout.)

On Monday, June 3, me and my parents drove up to Madison and settled into a hotel. I was given very specific instructions on how to shower that night and the next morning, with a special antiseptic soap. I barely slept that night, I was so excited.

June 4, we woke up at 4:30 in the morning. Our appointment was at 6:15, and we wanted to be totally sure we would make it on time. We did--we were the very first people in that day and they had to unlock the doors for us. I was starving, but I couldn't eat or drink because anaesthesia.

Once we checked in and were called, my parents got a number to "track" me with as the surgery progressed. We went to a hospital room with an attached bathroom. I was given a gown and nonslip socks to change into. The nurse took my clothes and glasses and arranged to send them to the room I would recover in. I also had to give a urine sample for a pregnancy test. Then me and my parents sat in the room and waited. Dr. King, a few nurses, one of the anesthesiologists, and another surgeon all trickled in and out of the room, introducing themselves and making sure we were doing okay. This is about when I really started getting nervous.

They hooked me up to an IV, in the back of my hand, not my inner elbow, and had me take some meds--painkillers, anti-inflammatory, and lower blood pressure, I think. They also stuck an anti-nausea patch behind my ear. Then my parents filed out and the nurses added the first bit of anesthesia meds to my IV and wheeled my bed into the surgical room. I started zoning out pretty quick--they put an oxygen mask on me to speed it along, I think.

Then I woke up in the post-op recovery room. I felt fine, though I didn't want to move. There was a very thick, stretchy binder over my chest, pulled very tight with cotton and dressings packed underneath, and I had a catheter in. A nurse was there and he talked me through how the rest of the day would go. Then they wheeled me to a different hospital room, and my parents came in.

We hung out there all day, with me dozing off every few minutes as the anesthesia wore off. Our nurse (an incredibly friendly, funny woman) kept an eye on us, taught us how to empty the drains, all that good stuff. We ordered dinner from the hospital cafeteria once I felt up to eating. Terrible food, but not inedible. The nausea patch worked--I felt woozy and a little dizzy, but I could eat. My parents decided that my dad would stay the night with me, and my mom would spend the night at the hotel working out logistics.

We were the only overnight patients. Once everyone else cleared out, we were moved to another room with an attached bathroom. My drains were barely filling, which everyone said was a good sign--the nurses checked every few hours for full drains or firmness under the skin. Me and my dad slept super cramped, and the nurse came in at 4:00 AM on Wednesday to take out my catheter and IV. This was nowhere near as unpleasant as I was expecting--honestly, the tape that had been holding the pipes to my skin was far more painful.

My mom brought the car up, and my dad and I went to meet her at about 5 AM. My pain meds were wearing off, and the ride back to the hotel kind of sucked. They set me up first in the chair and then in bed, and I took more pain meds and started feeling better. My mom got me breakfast.

We stayed in the hotel room all morning, with me zoning in and out and falling asleep and waking up. I checked my drains and they still weren't full enough to bother emptying. My mom got us all lunch, and then we headed to our first post-op appointment at 1:45.

Dr. King looked me over, and had me lie down. He undid the binder, which was held on with velcro, and pulled out the massive hunk of cotton. He checked the drains and incisions, and felt my chest to see if there was fluid buildup--my pain meds were wearing off again, and my chest felt very bruised. He laid a soft absorbent sheet of dressing over the incision sites and wrapped me back up in the binder, not as tightly this time. Then we headed home.

Right now I'm chilling at the kitchen table before going back to my room to start resting again. They had me breathing through a tube durning surgery, and even though I don't at all remember having it in, it left me with a seriously sore throat that I'm drinking honey tea to deal with. I feel sleepy and out of it, and my chest is kind of sore, but I'm closer to functional than I really expected to be.

Second post-op appointment is next Monday, and that's when the drains will come out. Meanwhile, I'm just gonna rest.

#nonbinary #transgender #transition #transmasculine #top surgery

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brawlers-comet · 3 years

Text

Banking On It (part two)

Plop. A hand came over her schoolwork. "Do you want to hang out today?"

Valerie looked up at her friend, who had sat down in the chair across from her. "I'm sorry. I can't. I have work after school."

Her friend, Reba, had a frown on her face. She had looked all around for her in this free period, and had found her here in the library just barely. All for that answer!

"Lame. Just call in! It's been too long since we've hung out." She urged.

Valerie smiled. "Just sit here with me. Do we really have to hang out in public to be friends?"

"No," Reba sighed, "But it's like... you've changed? Or... I don't know. You're not mad at me, are you?"

"Why would I be mad at you?" Valerie answered, casually leaning her head on her hand. Her eyes lowered to her paper again.

"So you are mad?" Reba asked.

"I'm past that." Valerie admitted. She glanced at the open textbook next to her. "But it is why I'm planning to take things more seriously."

"So I'm not serious in your life?" Reba asked dramatically, clutching her heart and emitting fake sobs.

"Shh..!" Valerie laughed, "You're going to get me in trouble with Mrs. Whitlow."

Reba opened an eye from her theatrics. "Ugh, you know her name? Nerd!"

"She's a good librarian." Valerie shook her head and shrugged lightly. "Now, are you gonna stay? Because I am not going to get in trouble."

"Fine, fine. I'll stay quiet for now. I do need to study anyway..." Reba brought her binder up, and unzipped it. "Just know that I'm not gonna accept this new 'chic geek' thing from you every time. Tell me when your next day off is, Valerie!"

The brunette smiled. "I'll... check the schedule today, and I'll text you after work." She promised.

"I'm holding you to that," Reba grinned. She tucked a short lock of auburn hair behind her ear. It stayed there for a few seconds before it slipped back to frame her face.

Wild, rebellious. Sometimes she wished she could have held onto her anger, and acted out in more of an outburst like Reba would no doubt done. But no. It was calm and sensible, mild-mannered Valerie, as usual. Always-taking-the long-route Valerie. "I know." She said.

"Good." Reba remarked, before peering down at Valerie's work. "So what is that? Can I copy?"

"No, but I'll help you with it." Valerie said. Maybe... she could stand to readjust her plan for Reba however. In this, she's done no wrong.

Work that day was busy. It was a Friday night, so it was to be expected. Tirelessly, Valerie went back and forth and waited the tables in her area diligently.

She took her breaks down to every second. The restaurant she worked at had good food! Though Valerie looked over her selection every night. Since she would be paying with her tips she wanted to make sure she'd get the best option...

She's been working here for months, and her garnered reputation was mostly on the positive side. She was the youngest waitress there, but the cooks and other workers were fond of her already.

"Such a smart and frugal young woman," the manager would chuckle. "Gonna be a business owner when you're older?"

"That's the plan." Valerie answered, nibbling on the grilled chicken and lettuce on her fork. "I decided to make everything I do count towards college."

"What made you decide so early?" He wondered. It wasn't every day he hired a high schooler who actually took things more seriously than some of the people who worked here.

Valerie shrugged dismissively. "It's just more efficient."

"I see. Well since you're planning long-term, what do you say to keeping this place in your plans?"

Valerie mused over this. "Well, it depends. At the amount I'm being paid now...."

The manager chuckled. "If you stay that long, you'll get raises of course. But not as a waitress,. I'm suggesting that starting now, I train you to be a manager one day."

"A manager?" Valerie was surprised. "You think I can?" She paused. No doubt, really. It would just be more work. Her time management would be even better too, considering she could pick and choose college hours. The work experience would be valuable! The important question was, "How much would I get paid?"

This time, the manager just howled with laughter. "Such a go-getter. We'll discuss that if you're still here in a year or two."

Valerie nodded. "Okay. ...I'll be up for it!"

"Hey, sir?" A worker poked his head into the break room, the manager made a face but turned anyway.

"What?"

"We need you up front sir."

The manager sighed. As always, never a true break. "Of course," he said as he stood.

The manager walked out of sigh, but the cook still hovered around the doorway. Valerie was too focused on her meal to notice at first.

"Hey, Valerie?" He called.

"Hm?" The brunette turned to him. Oh, it was Cal.

"Can you stay late tonight?" He asked.

"Sure I can. It's Friday."

"Great," he smiled, before slipping away.

After work, she was extremely tired. It was nearly midnight, so no surprise there.

She bid her coworkers a good night and unlocked her bike from the rack located at the back of the restaurant.

"Drive safe!" Her manager told her.

"Always," she waved. With that, she pedaled away down the dark streets.

"I swear." The manager muttered with a shake of his head. "How do her parents feel about her taking on so much? Staying out this late?"

"Who knows," one of the waitresses leaned heavily on her car door. "They might have an app tracker or something?"

"Hmm," the manager wasn't sure. But, ah well, he shrugged and bid farewell to the rest of his workers.

It was about 15 or 20 minutes later when she neared the house. She hopped off her bike about a block away, and walked the rest of the way. It wasn't super necessary, but Valerie enjoyed the slower moments of the night, before she entered the house and prepared for bed.

It was cool and breezy. As she stepped her bike over the curb with a soft smile, she put up her bike in the garage. Then, she stepped back to the side of the house where the window to her bedroom was hidden behind a bush.

Valerie exhaled softly, a faint smile at her lips. Before she entered and washed up and let fatigue catch up to her until she slept, she decided to sit idly on the grass for a few more minutes.

She looked up to the moon. Light calmly stooped down, grazing the fences and streets in the surrounding area. Times like these just felt her with some inner peace.

Oh, and that somehow reminded her of Reba. Valerie shifted and picked her phone out of her pocket. She unlocked her phone and scrolled through her contacts for her friend.

Hey. Are you still awake?

Valerie gazed up at the moon whilst she waited for an answer.

A few minutes later, she received it.

Yeah. About time! Did you seriously just get off?

Valerie paused. Yes.. why?

I should be asking you that!

Valerie smiled and sent a "💸" as her answer before she stood up to head inside through her window.

Once she got through and closed the window, she sat on her bed and checked her phone.

🙄 Crazy ass.

Okay. I'll remember that when you ask me for money.

No Vallie pls okay you aren't that much of a crazy ass

Valerie laughed, and took her shoes off.

So, Reba sent another message, are you up for anything, uh, tomorrow then? Saturday.

Oh, sure. What did you have in mind? Would it be fine if it’s in the afternoon?

Valerie stood up and left her phone on her bed. She exited her room and tiptoed to the hallway bathroom. She washed her face, brushed her teeth and dried off. Then, she returned to her room.

The brunette took off her work uniform and changed into oversized comfortable clothing to sleep in, throwing her dirty clothes in the basket.

Finally, she lay down in her bed, climbed under her covers and pawed around for her phone. Sure enough, Reba had long since texted her. It was a long block.

That's perfect actually. I've been wanting to go to that amusement park everybody's talking about.

Valerie made a face here. Expensive, she was already thinking about a rough price estimate for everything. Entry, rides, food. Maybe if there was some package deal, and we split the cost...

Her thoughts trailed as she continued reading.

It's free to get in, but I'm guessing everything inside is marked up. But I say it's worth a look see. At worst, it'll be a walk and lunch there. So is that fine? I'm looking forward to it.

Valerie mulled over it, thoughts of sleepiness beginning to distract her. It wouldn't hurt to try. Free entry sounded great. No doubt it's how they encouraged people to visit.

The brunette yawned, and tapped out her response.

That sounds perfect. I'm looking forward to it too. See you tomorrow. Bye. Good night.

She had just given three departing terms in a row, but she was hardly aware of it. Valerie was exhausted, and she fell asleep nearly as soon as she pressed send.

....

Oh, thought you fell asleep already. The place is called Starr Park, btw. We'll talk through the details tomorrow. Good night, Vallie!

#bs. ocs #valerie 🐇💸#backstory 🔖#Reba 💔

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jaredkleinmanisanerd · 7 years

Text

ROAD TRIP AU (made with the help of @nonbinaryevanhansen, @thisiswhatmylifeamountsto, @dr-evn-hnsn, and other bros from the DEH discord chat)

The Gang™ decides to have a road trip--one last big hurrah--before they go their separate ways to their respective jobs/graduate programs.

Alana is in charge of planning because she doesn’t mind phone calls, can be trusted to not spend more than they’ve budgeted, and is generally more responsible than the rest. She has a spreadsheet with every aspect of the trip planned--right down to what rest stops they can stop at for people to stretch their legs or use the restroom. She has a color coded binder containing the menus of the restaurants they’re going to eat at, the brochures for the tourist destinations they’re stopping at, and the receipts for all of their reservations; she also has a copy of the itinerary for everyone. Two copies for Jared because...he’s Jared.

Zoe is the deejay. While she’s procrastinating from studying for finals, because Zoe has senioritis even though she’s not even technically in her last year of college yet, she makes dozens of playlists that are specific for every different road trip mood. One is named “For When Connor Starts Being an Asshole and We Need to Drown Him Out” and another is aptly titled “Weird Tree Noises to Calm Evan Down.” She’s the only one allowed to use the aux chord and she has to keep a close eye on it because Jared’s constantly looking for an opportunity to rick roll the caravan.

Connor is the driver. Not because he’s a particularly good driver, but because he’s pulled enough all nighters in his day that he doesn’t mind driving through the night as Alana requires for some parts of the trip. Even when he gets sleepy, he just has to put on Zoe’s “Please Don’t Fall Asleep at the Wheel and Kill Us All” mix and he’s good to go for another six hours. When Jared tries to call shotgun, Connor tells him “if I have to sit beside you all day, I’m going to drive us off a bridge.”

Evan gets shotgun. He spends most of the time playing eye spy with Connor-- “I spy with my little eye something green” “Evan could you please pick something that isn’t a tree for the love of God”--or reading wikipedia articles on the various trees they come across. He doles out the caprisuns and individual bags of doritos and lays potato chips that they stock up on whenever they find a Wal-Mart that’s reasonably close to the interstate. When they make stops, he’s the one wearing the fanny pack with the tiny fan, travel-sized sunscreen, bug spray wipes, and extra bandaids in it.

Jared is...well, Jared. He’s relegated to the back seat with Alana and Zoe and he’s bored as hell. Alana spends their car time going over the itinerary and reading guide books and Zoe alternates between staring out the window while listening to music on her phone and playing Candy Crush on her phone. Jared tries to help her out by telling her what to do, but she mostly ignores him, much to his distress. At one point, he swipes her phone because “Zoe you’ve been at it for an hour this is getting embarrassing” and nearly gets mauled by Zoe in her attempts to get her phone back. Alana is the only thing between him and certain death at that point. He also smuggles a lot of contraband snacks on board in his backpack and suitcase and refuses to share despite having more chips and soda than any single person could/should consume.

They end up using Jared’s minivan because it’s the only vehicle they have among them that’ll fit them all. Evan spends the week before the trip helping his friend wash the caked on dirt off the outside of the vehicle and clear out the many discarded fast food wrappers littering the car floor. Connor tags along and does nothing besides throw trash at Jared and write “wash me pls god” on the back of the window before Jared can hose it down.

In all honesty, Jared has a lot riding on this trip. All of his friends are going off to do new and better things and all he’s got on the horizon is some boring IT job in the hell that is corporate America. Plus, he knows that if someone’s going to be left out of the friend group, it’s him. Connor and Evan have been a thing since their senior year of high school and they dropped the on-again, off-again bullshit back in sophomore year of college. Zoe and Alana are definitely a thing, he thinks, even if he hasn’t seen them kiss or hold hands. If they aren’t together yet, it’s only a matter of time. And Zoe and Connor are siblings, so they’re stuck with each other. Jared’s the odd man out. Like always. So this is the last time he’s going to be an integral part of the friend group, and there’s no way he’s going to waste it.

At their first hotel stop, Jared spots a sign behind the front desk when he’s checking in with Alana (because Connor and Zoe kicked him out of the car while they went to find a parking spot with Evan) that says that the maximum occupancy for each room is four people. Alana makes them sneak up in groups--her and Zoe first, then Connor and Evan, and finally Jared bringing up the rear, all by his lonesome. He asks Alana what her plan is if someone comes to check on them and kick someone out because “they have security cameras, you know.” Alana informs him that they’ll just hide him under the bed and, when he asks why it has to be him, Zoe pipes in with “because if we were going to make someone sleep in the car, Jared, it would be you.” So Jared just sleeps under one of the beds, acting like he’s taking the joke too far, but in reality, he’d rather be stuck under the bed Connor and Evan are sharing than be in the car all night by himself.

At one of the gas stations, Connor, being the dick that Connor is, has everyone load up and leave without Jared. Alana and Zoe don’t realize he’s gone until they’ve been driving for thirty minutes. Evan had been napping since before they stopped at the gas station. They return to find Jared surrounded by empty and unopened chip bags and cans of Mountain Dew. He flips off Connor when he starts laughing, yelling “joke’s on you, asshole, I used your credit card!” Connor says having Jared out of his hair for an hour was the best eighty dollars he’s ever spent.

Alana forces them to stay at a campground for one of their stops because the nearby hotels were too expensive and they have a big tent and a small, one-person tent. Jared is (obviously) sent to sleep in the one-person tent by himself. He drags it as close as he can get it to the big tent, periodically scratching on the outside of the big tent throughout the night to freak them out, which ends in Evan not being able to sleep and Connor yelling at him. Not exactly the outcome he was hoping for. The next night, he slips into the big tent when everyone’s asleep, burrowing himself into the warm space between Connor and Evan.

Connor wakes up to find half of Jared on him and half of Jared on Evan. Feeling pissed that a) Jared climbed on Evan without asking Evan’s permission despite knowing how Evan gets when people touch him a lot and b) Jared’s snoring woke him up from some of the best sleep he’s gotten on the trip so far, Connor carries Jared out of the tent and dumps him on the other side of the camp fire before returning to the tent to cuddle with his boyfriend.

That’s the last straw for Jared. It’s obvious that none of his so-called friends want him there, and he’s not the type of guy to stick around when he’s clearly not wanted, so he gets the idea to walk back to civilization and catch a bus back home. Alana, Zoe, and Evan are freaking out when they wake up to find Jared missing--Alana’s two seconds away from dialing 911 and Evan’s about to have a panic attack--so Connor promises to find Jared and ends up driving slowly beside him on the interstate, trying to convince Jared to come back to camp with him.

Jared eventually agrees to come back to camp and they all have to have a serious discussion about what’s been going on. Jared acts like an asshole for a while, saying that he knows when he’s not welcome and it’s not like he wants to be stuck with any of them either, but eventually admits that he feels unappreciated and like everyone’s going to abandon him once the trip is over. Everyone assures them that that’s not the case--even Connor, although that takes more than a few bony elbows thrown his way by Evan and Zoe.

The trip continues on with everyone being a bit nicer to Jared. Well, everyone except Connor, but Connor is even a dick to Evan, so Jared didn’t expect much from him. Connor threatens to throw him off a cliff at the Grand Canyon and nearly drowns him in one of the pools at the hotel’s they’re staying at. The fact that Jared doesn’t actually come to any bodily harm is probably Connor’s attempt at appreciating Jared more.

At one of the hotels that has a whole freakin’ water park in it, Zoe and Evan go in the lazy river together, floating beside each other in their inner tubes, holding onto each other’s handles so they don’t get split up. Alana is swimming laps in one of the pools while Connor and Jared fight over who gets to go down a water slide first, terrifying the nearby children and annoying the hell out of the aforementioned children’s parents. Jared slips and ends up taking Connor down the slide with him and, of course at that exact moment Evan and Zoe are coming around the bend of the lazy river and see the boys sliding down together. Zoe cups her hands around her mouth and yells “GAY” while Evan laughs so hard he nearly capsizes.

That hotel decides to actually enforce the rule about there being only four people to each room, so Jared is stuck sleeping in the car. Evan shows up right before Jared’s about to fall asleep, a few towels and extra sheets in hand. They put down the backseat and make up a little bed, using the towels as pillows and the sheets as, well, sheets and share a package of cookies Jared swiped from one of Zoe’s bags before she went inside. They’re watching the Bee Movie on Evan’s phone when Connor shows up, scaring the hell out of them when he knocks on the window, face obscured by his hoodie.

Jared’s about to give up his backseat nest with Evan to the two lovebirds when Connor shoves Jared over so he’s squished between the two of them, claiming the rest of the cookies and offering nothing but sarcastic commentary in return. Jared’s a little confused about the whole thing, but he’s not about to pass up a redo of what he’d attempted back when they were camping, especially when Connor and Evan are two (conscious) willing cuddle buddies.

They have a Serious Talk in the morning and things just kind of go from there. Jared wasn’t expecting to get one (1) boyfriend on this trip, let alone two. He’s a little afraid that things are going to be awkward at first, but that fear goes right away when Evan and Connor join Alana and Zoe in ganging up on him the next day, attacking him with pool noodles until a manager or someone comes out and tells them they have to stop because they’re disrupting the other guests.

It’s not long after that when Alana sends the three of them off to an arcade at one of their stops, thrusting a twenty dollar bill at them and telling them to stay away for at least four hours. Jared and Connor are out the door before she can even finish her sentence, but Evan stays behind knowing what’s coming.

“It’s going to go great, ’Lana. Don’t worry.”

“I know.”

“Mmhm. Well, good luck.”

Meaningful shoulder touch. “Thanks, Evan.”

Evan continues to send his encouragement as Alana leads Zoe to a tiny hole-in-the-wall restaurant that she exhaustively researched many months prior, claiming them the best table that she reserved back in January. The restaurant doesn’t even take reservations, but Alana managed to sweet talk them into make an exception for this momentous occasion.

She asks Zoe to be her girlfriend between performances by amateur artists because it’s open mic night, and Alana couldn’t have planned that extra perfect touch that gives the night if she tried.

Zoe says yes, of course. Was Alana even worried?

Alana shows her (new!) girlfriend the plethora of texts Evan’s been sending her, telling her that everything’s going to be a-okay, that Zoe’s going to say yes, that they’re going to make an adorable couple. There’s also a few “pls hurry up and save me from these two, they’re competing over a claw game now” and a picture of the unicorn stuffie Jared won him, which make them laugh.

As much as they love Evan, they take their sweet time finishing dinner.

The road trip continues as plan without a hitch. Well, much of a hitch. Evan has a panic attack at one of the stops and locks himself in the bathroom. While Jared, Connor, and Zoe try to coax him out, Alana goes to get the manager and has him open the door with his key, rescuing Evan from the bathroom and helping him back to the minivan, telling him that he’s okay, everything’s okay, and offering him water. Evan apologizes for making them fall behind, but Alana tell him it’s fine, the schedule can wait.

The schedule only waits for Evan and Zoe though, so Alana makes up for lost time by forcing Jared to forego peeing at a rest stop and yelling at Connor to run red lights and go off road when they’re stuck in traffic. She even pesters a museum tour guide to hurry up to try to make up a few minutes.

Everyone’s exhausted when they get back. Jared, Connor, and Evan all pile into Evan’s bed, barely saying hi to Heidi and handing over the bag of souvenirs Evan’s been accumulating for her before they’re down for the count. Alana and Zoe don’t even make it to Zoe’s bed--Connor finds them passed out on the couch of Connor and Zoe’s shared apartment the next morning.

While the gang doesn’t split up--not in the next year, not in the next five years, not ever--the trip was one of the last times all of them were able to spend an extended amount of time together. Even Connor smiles when they flip through the scrapbook Alana and Evan made, filled with ticket stubs and awkward pictures from the trip, including one of Jared when Zoe and Connor drew dicks all over his face in Sharpie. Whether he smiles because the trip was one of the best times of his life or because it was one of the few times he’s gotten to draw dicks on his boyfriend’s face is unknown, but Jared and Evan prefer to believe its the former. It is the trip that (finally) got them together after all.

But Connor is a dick, so it’s probably the latter.

#deh #sincerely three #galaxy gals #evan hansen #connor murphy #jared kleinman #alana beck #zoe murphy #road trip au

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chloes-pirate-booty · 7 years

Note

whats been your experience with top surgery? did you like your doc and all

Yeah! Top surgery went well for me! I mean, I would have liked a friendlier doctor - the guy I went to was pretty dull and quiet and was all business so at times I felt kind of uncomfortable with him. But he knew what he was doing. He seemed shady when I asked him to show me pictures of past patients’ results, but I realized that the reason he was hesitant was because almost all of the photo comparisons he had were of patients who had far more complicated chests than mine so it wouldn’t have been an accurate reference for me anyway. A couple of them had previous damage from improper binding so their results didn’t look too good but it was not the doctor’s fault, it was their fault for binding with tape.

So here’s the story of the actual surgery: My surgery was done at around 7:30 AM on October 3rd 2016. I was honestly pretty relaxed going in there. It wasn’t too busy or noisy at the little surgical center I went to (which was connected to a larger hospital) so I didn’t have to lay there on the cot waiting and waiting and waiting to go in. I went in the little curtained room thing, answered some questions, they had me change, the doc marked up my chest, they hooked me up with an IV, sat for a couple minutes, and then they pumped that happy drug in and rolled me through the doors. I remember getting into the surgical room. I was too high off that relaxant at that point to even be bothered by the fact that they’d already started strapping my arms down like Jesus on the cross. I remember looking around and seeing like 20 people which was not what I expected at all. Then I was out like a light. The surgery took about 2 hours, and I woke up high as a kite in the same curtained room. There were two nurses. I remember being so fucking happy looking down at my chest and seeing it bandaged up. I lifted up the lip of the bandages and honestly couldn’t see anything underneath because it was so tight but I knew my chest was flat as a board. Nothing hurt (yet). I didn’t even notice the drains. I was just chilling there all loopy and I kept waving at people when they passed by the open curtains. Pretty sure I asked the same nurse how the surgery went like 10 times. Then my doctor came in and said everything went well and that he did need to put drains in (he told me to plan for them but it was never a promise that I’d need them.)At that point, I was awake enough that they moved me over to a big chair, switched me from the johnny to my flannel shirt + sweatpants, and gave me some water. I wasn’t nauseous, thank god. And I wasn’t loopy anymore either. I could feel the drains now that the hospital-strength pain meds were wearing off.Then I was literally ECSTATIC when I saw my Mom, Dad and (surprise) Grandma coming towards me. (Yes, Grandma was a surprise. I did not know she would be visiting. I guess my Mom and Dad went to hang out with her at her house nearby until I was done, and so she figured she’d come visit.) I was so excited and showing them how flat my chest was even with the bandages on and showing them how weird the drains looked. I’m really chill with my family. They were nervous about me getting the surgery, obviously, but there was definitely a good vibe in the room now that I had made it past the ‘big’ part. My Grandma impulsively bought my family the biggest party tray of cookies I’ve ever seen. After my Grandma left, the nurse showed my parents and I how to empty the drains and measure the drainage. They gave the little drainage chart and a little study guide about how the drains worked. Every 12 hours I would have to empty the fluids from the drains into a little measuring cup [PHOTO - blood warning] Then my parents helped me get my sneakers on and the nurse wheeled me out to the car. I was given my cell phone back at this point, of course, so I spent the whole ride home messaging my friends that I survived, lol. One unusual thing that happened though is that my seatbelt was too tight on the external portion of my right drain. About 5 minutes away from home, my right side started feeling very warm. And then I didn’t note anything of it until we were parked in the driveway and I unbuckled my seatbelt to find a gigantic patch of blood on the bandages. I went into panic mode thinking I broke the drain (I didn’t think something was wrong with my chest because there was no obvious pain). But after figuring out that nothing was actually wrong and that the blood was just unable to travel downwards through the drain (therefore traveling back into the drain port and leaking out from there), I was fine and just mildly pissed off that my ace bandages had a blood stain. [PHOTO] Thankfully, my Mom had foot surgery 3 months before and she had extra ace wraps that I just used instead. Be careful with seatbelts, guys.

So once I was in the house, I basically stayed there for the next 5 days. I was upstairs 24/7 pretty much. The only time I went outside during that time was when my rat Ozzy died 3 days after my surgery and I went with my Dad to bury him in the yard. That fucking sucked. But aside from the dead pet, those 5 recovery days were aesthetic as fuck. Since it was October, I made sure to decorate the shit out of my room while I could still lift my arms. I had Halloween lights up every where [PHOTO], and I had a bunch of Halloween candy to pig out on [PHOTO]. I ate like a fat ass when I was hungry, but I wasn’t very hungry due to to percocet (oxy) that I was prescribed for pain. I actually ended up losing 5 pounds in 5 days due to not eating big meals (plus my high metabolism) even though I certainly ate a lot of cookies, candies, and Frostys (my aunt kept calling me and insisting she come visit and bring me Wendy’s, lol. She’s an occupational therapist and so she was very intrigued by how I was recovering and visited almost every night to talk with me). I’d also bought a new TV a few days before the surgery too. So I had my TV and PS4 set up right in front of my bed so I wasn’t ever lacking entertainment. I watched Breaking Bad during the day and then Bob Ross before going to sleep. The pain meds made me so sleepy so I usually would just pass out watching Bob Ross, haha. I made a habit of it too. 10/10 would recommend passing out while watching Bob Ross. Usually the end credit music would wake me up and remind me to turn the TV off, haha. Also, @xrdpan gave me this very cute little guy as a gift - [PHOTO]And yeah, this is getting a little off topic. But I definitely had a memorable week of recovery. Sometimes I wish I could do it again for another day or two. Cause despite how uncomfortable the drains were and how much weight my scrawny ass lost, I was so relaxed and got to watch a LOT of TV.

So back to post-op care - I was not given a binder after surgery. I had to use the ace bandages while I still had the drains in, and then I was given a prescription for a compression tank top (that i literally had to go to this lingerie store to get) once the drains were out. That was kind of annoying. I had hoped for a decent surgical vest like what most people get, but yeah.

My drains were in for 10 days. They were uncomfortable, but I didn’t have any bleeding complications or any complications at all so they definitely did their job. It didn’t hurt when they came out either. It felt awesome once they were out and I could really get a good look at my chest. The drains caused snake-like lumps all throughout my chest and it looked weird. Drains in - [PHOTO]Drains out - [PHOTO]

And as for sensation, my chest was very numb for about 1 month including the nipples, and then was half-numb for another couple months. But after the 3 month point (which was around the time I didnt have to wear anymore compression), the sensation was coming back on it’s own very well. I’m 7 months post-op now and have all sensation back except for my right nipple which isn’t 100% numb but doesn’t really react to touch. I have a couple small fleshy spots, mainly on the left side, where they almost have too much feeling and are tender if pressed down on. It feels like a muscle thing.

Uhhh so that’s an essay if I ever saw one! Hope you got something useful from it! I’m always down to talk about my experience and make everything more clear and possibly less scary for everyone who’s interested in top surgery. I had a good experience overall! No complications!

Here’s some recent pics if you’re interested!

2 months - [PHOTO]4 months - [PHOTO]6 months - [PHOTO]

#top surgery #ftm #female to male #peri-aereolar #mastectomy #Anonymous

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