#I would get so overheated physically and mentally from things not fitting me

[kagedbird]

Allora: *drawing outfits from home while the group rests at camp, trying to stop wistfully sighing for just some god damn pants*

Taliesin: You're awfully noisy today. What's got you down, little cherub? *sits down next to her*

Allora: Oh- sorry. I'm, uh... just a little homesick. Mostly for the clothes. *sheepishly shows him her sketches*

Taliesin "Fashionista" Talisein: *gently takes the book and hums, going through each outfit carefully* These certainly look thicker than your current outfit. I don't understand how in Oblivion you can constantly wear those dresses. Especially that white one.

Allora: *sighs, curling up in her fur cloak a bit more* Not like I have much of a choice... but yeah. I miss pants. And every time I try to go to the stores to get some, the seller always looks at me funny.

Taliesin: Nords have always had a strange sense for fashion. No matter! I know the perfect thing to help you. *snaps book shut but keeps it and stands*

Allora: Wh- hey-

Taliesin: We're going shopping!

Allora: *feels dread growing in her stomach* Why do I feel like I'm suddenly at Target with my mother-

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Silver, Idia: Believe in the Me that Believes in You

I’m not a huge fan of Silver, but his Broomquet Groovy is one of my favorites ^^ I really love the color of the sky and how the birdies have come to fly with him!

Silver talks about training with Lilia in this interview; I kept thinking of Mulan's training montage during it. He also mentions that Lilia pat his head for the first time in a while and told him he's grown into a fine young man so of course I had to make jokes about how "it'll be the final time" and "Lilia's finally booting Silver out of the house now that he's 18 so papa can fuck off to retirement"—

A Boy in Bloom, and his Flowering Future.

"How do you spend your days off?"

Idia looked up from his clipboard. H-Huh?! Do I really have to ask this?! I-Isn't it obvious what Silver-shi's answer will be? Obviously, an air-headed macho man like him's going to say...

“When possible, I work on my equestrian skills and horse handling technique. Otherwise, I train.”

“O-Oh… right…” Idia failed to curb his lack of enthusiasm.

See?! I totally predicted that!! He’s got zero brain cells upstairs, all the brain cells were beaten out of existence by his muscles! Now all that's left is a space-case!

Silver took one look at Idia’s bug-eyed stare, and a realization (the wrong realization) set in. “Are you curious about my regimen? I’m sorry, I will elaborate.

"As one of the young master's knights, it is my responsibility to protect him. This requires maintaining peak physical performance. To begin with, my regular warm-up involves stretching, then 100 sit ups, 100 push-ups, 100 squats, and a 10 kilometer run."

"B-B-BWEH?!" Idia practically choked on his own saliva. "D-Did you really just say all of THAT for a warm-up?! And you do that willingly? For FUN?!“

"Yes, that's right. It's very light and helps to wake my body up. After that is when the 'real' training begins. I do cardio and focus on different parts of the body depending on the day of the week."

"Wh-When do you find the time to take breaks?! J-Just listening to you describe your daily exercise is making my muscles cry..."

"Ah, you're wondering how I'm able to keep up with my routine."

Huh?! It's like this guy just button mashed his way past NPC dialogue and only got the gist of what I just said!! I didn't think it was possible to meet someone that runs on autopilot IRL!!

"From a young age, my father instilled in me the importance of staying active and fit." Silver smiled fondly at the thought, ignorant to Idia's woes. “He set up obstacles courses and would give me chores that built up my strength. I’d also play tag with the animals when I wasn’t chopping wood or fetching pails of water for us.

“Sometimes Sebek would join me. We’d have a lot of fun together braving spiked pits, climbing cliffs, and surviving in the wild with only the clothes on our backs. We came out of it stronger in body, mind, and heart—they were very valuable experiences for us.”

Serenity never parted from Silver’s face the entire time he described his hellish childhood. Meanwhile, his interviewer had progressively grown paler and paler. Now he was the exact hue of a fresh corpse.

“Hmm? You don’t look too good, Idia-senpai,” Silver noted. Worry suddenly marred his gentle beauty.

He jumped. “N-Nope! I-I'm fine, my health is at max!!"

A lie—the entire interview had been mentally draining for the introvert.

"Are you sure?" Silver stepped closer, his expression turning deadly serious. “If you’re feeling unwell…”

Idia gulped. He wasn’t certain if he was overheating from the scorching May day or if it was his nerves getting the better of him.

“… You should work out with me and Sebek. I’m sure he won’t mind the extra company.”

A freight train slammed into Idia’s gut. He staggered back, mouth hanging open at the audacity of Silver’s suggestion, the one million and one things wrong with it.

"A-Are you crazy or what?! Th-There's no way I'd survive!! The only exercise I do is waving light sticks around for idol concerts, I can't handle anything more than that! P-Plus, a shut-in otaku like me can't deal with being shouted at just for existing, I’ll instantly fold!!"

“I understand, Idia-senpai.”

For a moment, his hopes welled. “A-Alright, GG. We’re done with the interview then. You can get going on the birthday road now…”

But much to Idia’s horror, the birthday boy continued.

“I also told myself, ‘I can’t do this’ and, ‘I want to give up’ when I first started my fitness journey—but throughout all my doubts, my father was there to support me, and Sebek was my friend and rival, motivating me to improve.

“At NRC too… I’ve met people who support me. I can ride a horse as well as I can because Riddle instructed me. I won an arm wrestling contest because my classmates cheered me on. There are many things I was able to do only because others were there for me in my time of need.”

“Where… are you going with this shounen anime protag speech?” Idia asked warily.

“It’s hard to do it alone, but you’re not alone at all, senpai. I will be there to cheer you on, and we can work together to help you accomplish wellness goals.” Silver stated matter-of-factly. “I believe in you, so please believe in yourself!”

“E-Eh…? Seriously, what’s with you… Is everything I’m saying going in one ear and out the other?”

H-How can one person be a literal beacon of light and goodness in the world?! Is Silver-shi really the kind of person who tries to empathize with even the characters fandoms unanimously hate? Would he walk up to a broom and try to shake its hand?

A firm pat on the shoulder snapped Idia out of his spiraling thoughts. He found Silver staring him down, an encouraging smile on his lips.

"I need to head off on the birthday road now, but I want you to know that you're always welcome to my workout sessions, and I'll always be in your corner."

"W-Wait," Idia stammered meekly, "I never agreed to take you up on your offer... P-Please tell me you won’t show up unannounced in my dorm to drag me outside…!!”

WHOOSH!

The Ignihyde dorm leader was silenced by a powerful kickback of magic to the face. The fire of his hair flew around him—and when the flames cleared out of his sight, he saw that Silver was already a dot in the distance.

Petals danced upon the breeze, as white as the clouds stretched across the brilliantly cerulean sky. Night Raven College was drenched in golden sunlight, and spring come out in full force. The day was as picturesque as an image straight out of a storybook.

Thrilled song filled the sky as a procession of birds joined him in flight. Pink, green, blue—a flurry of colored feathers as they hurried to Silver’s side.

One planted a light peck on his cheek, another nibbled on the ribbon trailing from his bouquet. The third paved his way, trumpeting the arrival of a prince, pure of heart, with his beloved animal companions.

It was as though Mother Nature's messengers had come out to wish Silver a happy birthday.

Idia was almost mesmerized by the sight.

Almost.

“Silver-shi really does belong in a whole new world… far, far away from me!!”

[vaulted-ceiling-painted-sky]

I'm making a major life change. I'm detransitioning (for medical reasons, so please don't cancel me).

I don't talk about this sort of thing much on my blog because I prefer to live a relatively private life separate from social media. However, I still wanted to disclose some things to my followers. I was on testosterone for over 5 years. I got the prescription after 8 months of counseling for gender dysphoria, followed by a consultation with a psychiatrist and an endocrinologist. This all started back in 2016 and I began taking T in 2017.

The symptoms that were considered part of my gender dysphoria diagnosis were mostly related to body dysmorphia. Since puberty, I felt like my body shape was completely wrong and that certain parts didn't belong to me (no real explanation, just physical discomfort). I had an eating disorder for many years that I never fully recovered from until the T improved my metabolism enough and I could start eating intuitively again. My other symptoms were... pretty much just being a weird girl and a social misfit. I had learned to mask it ok but social expectations just felt overwhelming and exhausting.

T was amazing for the first few years. My period stopped after a month, I lost fat and put on muscle, I could eat a full meal again, my body felt right in a way it never had before. I even got a new job where I felt like a fit in way better as a guy. I was extremely well informed on what changes to expect and when, and I was always careful with my health, getting regular blood tests and checking in with my doctors.

The side effects started to accumulate and worsen however. My body temperature ran high and I got overheated quite easily, which affected my sleep among other things. After about a year I started to get intense abdominal cramps with increasing frequency. Several years of this and I eventually had to get a hysterectomy (I kept my ovaries) and the cramping finally stopped. I had already had top surgery at this point. That was an entire ordeal on its own. I needed to have an emergency revision a week after the original surgery when I got a hematoma in the left side of my chest. I had to drive myself to the emergency room (my boyfriend was at work) where they opened the stitches and tried to manually drain it. Blood was gushing out of my side. I had to be rushed into the OR to have it fixed. After about 4 years on T, I began to have constant pain in certain organs due to atrophy. Medication only stopped it from getting worse, but the pain was still there and sex was out of the question. This can take a toll on one's mental health and relationship. The side effect that really scared me though was the heart problems. After nearly 5 years on T, I started having episodes of fast, pounding, irregular heartbeats. They were uncorrelated with anxiety, and heartburn medication did nothing. I stopped T for a few weeks and the episodes decreased. I started T again and had the worst one yet, where I was actually afraid for my life. I stopped again and my heart issues resolved in a month or two. My last dose was in October 2022.

Since then my body has been reverting to its natural appearance. I just look more feminine and read as female in spite of a flat chest and deep voice. It happened quickly for me. I decided to file paperwork for a court order name and gender change last week. I think I'll be back to publicly presenting as a woman in a few months. This has been a lot for me to process but I'm cautiously optimistic. And I'm so, so grateful that I have a loving, open-minded boyfriend and a supportive family. I don't know what I would do without them.

Why did I post this? Well, I thought sharing my experience might be useful for some of you. If you're on T or getting gender-related surgeries, or if someone you care about is, it's helpful to know about some of the things that can happen. My experiences differed significantly in some ways from the standard information you get on this stuff. Side effects can be quite manageable for some people, but very serious for others. I thought I was at very low risk of anything bad happening yet treatment still proved unsustainable for me. It can be difficult to find accurate information in a medical field that's been unfairly politicized. I just want what's best for everyone though.

[howgalling]

 okay so worldbuilding for my humanformers AU - set in a cyberpunk 2077 setting (though nothing to do with the game in terms of plot, merely using the incredible worldbuilding this game/its other content has for fun :D)

OKAY. first of all my Reasoning. simply put: the cyberpunk setting has the perfect situational dynamics to create the personalities the transformers characters have. massive class disparity, lack of rights for workers, incredible technlogy in contrast with destitution, addiction, and a looming authority (the senate vs megacorporations. same vibes. but instead of You Were Created For One Purpose And You Must Stick To It it’s work until you fall apart and then get better cyberware WE designed with your own money so you can keep working for us :) cyberpunk is a dystopian world, filled with crime, corruption and poverty. Ruled completely by power-hungry corporations and brutal governments. (SENATE) outside of city hubs, climate crisis has made living off the land essentially impossible, droughts and desertification is a massive problem.

i will be quoting various lore sources to save time but if you are someone who has indepth knowledge of the lore DO NOT call me out on inaccuracies this is for people who do not want to engage with the source content. thank you. ideally these characters live in night city because its the place i have the most information to bounce off of and create ideas for! and i cba to create a new city. ew. night city is independent from federal law, instead being completely controlled by corporate influence. the cyberpunk 2077 game is set in a world where mega corporations have essentially completely taken over, workers rights are a thing of the past. (i will be using this as a plot point often)  by this point in the narrative, the first three corporate wars strengthened the position of the megacorporations, giving them more authority than most governments. affiliations between politicians and corporations ceased to be regarded as conflicst of interest. megacorporations essentially have their own private armies they use to attack other corporations, in particular weapons manufacturer giants destroyed cities and obliterated infrastructure during their battles, all with the intent of taking out the competition. after the wars (numerous wars) it took a few decades for infrastructure and cities to be rebuilt and during this time corporations used the opportunity to get even MORE control of the population. 

ALSO the old internet has been destroyed by new generations of devestating viral programs and AI, though theres more to that situation. global servers and databanks were destroyed during this time. an incredible amount of data and human history was obliterated, but some people still venture into the old net to try and harvest data (this is where i like to try and get characters like soundwave and cosmos or jazz/blaster entwined into these narrative roles) there is a virtual barrier between human and ai controlled regions of the net, because coming in contact with AI while accessing the net is extremely dangerous (essentially), but in order to access information that was lost you have to go into unregulated areas filled with danger. this is very difficult and takes lots of specialised equipment/modifications that are not cheap or safe. it is very easy to die while attempting this (although it is not a physical death, rather your body overheating and blood boiling while you are plugged into the net. well actually it is very physical in that case but its not an ai coming out of the screen to beat you to death) 

each character i like to try and think carefully about where they would fit into the world without twisting their original morals, purpose and personalities. if u are wondering why i think about this so much: this is what i daydream about when i mentally clock out on my day job. you understand.

very much like today, but to an absolute extreme, the corporate-backed mass media are feeding society with bland, easy to digest processed news, brainwashing programs and commercials, enforcing the ever popular trend of “buy more and think less” while actively surpressing education and funnelling people into the prison system for profit. they do this because it’s easier to control people who are ignorant than those who are educated.  let me know if you’d like me to go into more detail!!

[softykooky]

sanctuary: six

summary: leaving your father was easy. leaving them? well...that’s a different kind of strength. 7.9k words.

genre: mafia au, fluff, major angst

pairing: ot7 x reader

warnings:  toxic and dysfunctional familial relationships, mentions of domestic abuse (physical and verbal), swearing, ptsd & trauma, poor mental health, mentions of anxiety & panic attacks, reader goes to therapy, hurt, argument/yelling, the boys are mean...

author’s note: i made you guys wait long enough hehe :) hope you like it, please let me know what you think! and please take notice of the warnings!! they are there for a reason <3

♡ series masterpost ♡

Your nightmares have gotten better...somewhat. Better in the sense that you don’t let them carry over as much to the next day. Better in the sense that now, there are seven smiling faces that greet you every morning to help the fear dissolve. But they still relent as strong as ever, and make you toss and turn every single night with no pity. 

They’ve gotten more frequent since that meeting with your father. More vivid. Some nights, your nightmares are so bad that you just end up migrating over to Taehyung’s room right next to you and sleeping on the edge of the bed (though you just end up wrapped around each other in the morning). Taehyung never bats an eye. Only opens the side of his thick duvet for you to crawl into and flicks on a lamp because he knows you don’t like the dark after a nightmare. 

Tonight is no different. From the other side of the wall, Taehyung can hear your pained whimpers and mumbles that he can barely make out. Your sheets rustle as your body protests the vivid dream, and he can’t help but to bolt out of his comfortable position to check up on you. You’re still deep in restless sleep when he opens the door and approaches your bed. 

“Y/N, sweetheart, please wake up”, he soothes, caressing the side of your face with one hand. “It’s just a dream.”

The yellowing bruise on your cheek has begun to fade, but it still makes their blood boil every time they catch sight of it. Seeing it right now makes Taehyung want to burn the entire city down and your father along with it. But he is here for you. And Taehyung (and the other six) cannot be anything but soft towards you. 

“Baby, wake up”, he says again, louder this time and it makes you begin to stir out of sleep. You quiet at the contact of his skin but your eyes remain closed and that fitful frown is still on your face. Taehyung doesn’t know that his mere presence brings you comfort. Even when you’re not conscious. 

He takes the authority to nestle under the covers next to you and it’s as if your body just naturally gravitates to his, tucking yourself into his arms like a linking puzzle piece. It’s a selfish reason, and Taehyung doesn’t want to tell anyone, though he has a feeling the guys already know and also share his belief. But he secretly treasures the moments that he gets with you, even if it is for a heartbreaking reason such as nightmares. 

He loves the feeling of your body next to his, and the blankets that get just a little too overheated because the both of you are human furnaces. He loves the gentle thud of your heartbeat on those nights that he holds you closer than normal, when you shake like a leaf through your dreams and he is your tether to the ground. 

And to think, just a while ago he was yelling at you from the other side of the wall, complaining about your loud crying. He wants to go back in time and kick himself. Taehyung’s scared. He’s never really cared for someone like this before. 

You are already safely stowed away in his wide chest when a shadow walks by the room. Taehyung is not surprised when Yoongi creaks the bedroom door open, and not surprised when he sees Jimin in tow. 

“We heard her all the way from upstairs.” Yoongi mutters through a yawn. Jimin just sighs and looks at your sleeping figure with concern and longing. The two men shuffle into the room and as Jimin lifts up the blanket to flank your other side, Yoongi sets himself at the foot of the bed. Not that any of them lacked space, of course. The boys made sure your room was properly equipped with a large California king. 

“It’s been getting worse. I don’t know what to do. I want to help her, but I-” 

Taehyung finds himself getting choked up through his words. They all feel the same way. It’s just that there’s been too many nights where he’s had to hold your broken pieces together while you scream out the ghosts of what has happened to you. If it’s too much to bear for the seven of them, looking from the outside, they can’t imagine how it must feel for you. 

Jimin reaches over, your body nestled between the two of them, and inserts his hand inside Taehyung’s, caressing the thumb back and forth of his skin. 

“I guess all we can do is be here on the nights that are difficult.” Yoongi tilts his head so that he’s looking at you, still drifting off in your dream with a pained expression on your face.

“She’ll get through this. She’s strong.” 

The words that Yoongi whispers into the night air of your bedroom are hopeful. Uncharacteristic for a man like him, but when it comes to you, optimism is the only choice. He’ll allow himself to have hope if it’s for you. 

The four of you fall back into shallow sleep, and time passes by differently when it’s night time and your bones cry for rest. They fall in and out of consciousness for a minute or a couple hours, none of them are sure. All they can focus on is their worry, and you continue to battle through your war of bad dreams. Jimin and Taehyung awaken again when you begin to stir.

You quiver like you’re cold, even when you’re sandwiched in between two warm bodies and they both snuggle in to hold you even closer. But you remain lost to your nightmare and begin to cry tears that drip down and dampen the fabric of Taehyung’s pajama shirt. He knows you’ll apologize profusely for that in the morning, but he couldn’t give less of a damn about his shirt. The feeling of you crying in his arms makes him feel like an utter failure. 

Jimin wipes away the wet trail that the tear left behind on your skin, and wants to cry himself. He doesn’t know how to take your pain away, and wants to scream because sleep is the only time where you can truly rest and the universe deprives you of even that. 

“I’m so sorry, princess. We’re here.” He whispers to your unhearing ears. “We’ll be here.”

When your cries begin to get loud and your muttering becomes pained, the door is softly opened again. This time, it reveals a wide-awake Jungkook and a not so awake Hoseok. Yoongi rolls his eyes but can’t help the fond smile that paints his lips. 

“Jungkook, I told you to stop staying up so late playing video games.” he whisper-scolds, and Jungkook looks sheepish in the lowlight of your bedroom. They’re not surprised by his late night antics by any means, and they’re also not surprised that he abandoned them to check up on you. They all know Jungkook has an unreasonably tender spot for you. 

“Is it her dreams again?”, Hoseok says, pure worry leaking out of every word and staring at your impossibly small self in Taehyung’s hold. There’s no annoyedness in his tone. They’re all just deathly concerned about you. 

Pushing Hoseok inside the room and quietly closing the door behind him, Jungkook situates himself on the loveseat next to the bed, while Hoseok just plops on the plush rug, snatching a throw pillow and tucking it under his head. Jimin sweeps a stray hair away that had fallen into your face. 

Though they’re all trying to close their eyes and sleep, they all know that tonight will be a restless one. If you are not peacefully sleeping, they won’t be able to either. And it seems that that statement applies to all of them, when not even 10 minutes pass until Namjoon and Seokjin make their way to your bedroom, for the same reason as the other five. They wordlessly set out pillows and blankets on the floor beside your bed, nestling into each other for warmth and hoping that you can feel their sincerity even in sleep. And if anyone could see them now: big, bad mafia bosses cuddling together to help you through a night of bad dreams, Bangtan would force them to sign non-disclosure agreements. For you though, they could do this for hundreds of nights. 

When all seven are there, you miraculously slumber peacefully through the night. For the first time since Taehyung crept into your room, you are resting comfortably, quiet and undisturbed. And when you start snoring, Taehyung wants to cry with sheer relief. It was as if your subconscious vied for the presence of all the boys, and now that you have it, they finally allow themselves to drift off as well. 

The last thing you expected when you woke up this morning was to be dripping in sweat and much too aware of the extra three bodies on the bed with you. Ones you don’t remember going to sleep with last night. You have no recollection, just remembered that you went to sleep alone and now the seven men you’ve grown far too fond of were in the room with you, still snoozing the day away. 

At the foot of your bed, Yoongi stretches his limbs and groans when the sunlight peaks through the curtains into his eyes. He squints away the sleep and smiles dopily at you from under a blanket. Hopefully he doesn’t notice the way you practically melt at just his gaze. 

“Morning, sweetheart.” His throaty morning voice makes you blush two shades of red. 

“Good morning”, you whisper back, not wanting to wake any of them up. They just look so adorable and so completely exhausted. Yoongi bets that all of them would rather forfeit their positions as mafia bosses before telling you it’s because they stayed up all night worrying about you. “Um…”, you murmur, eyes darting around the room, “why are you all in here?” 

Yoongi doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t want to admit how whipped they actually are for you. 

“You were...having bad nightmares. So we wanted to come make sure you were okay.” 

Your eyes widen at Yoongi’s confession, and it reminds you of when Namjoon had done the same for you all those nights ago. It makes your heart ache and bloom at the same time because well..no one’s really cared enough to do something like this for you. Something so simple yet significant. You blink away the mistiness in your eyes, looking around the room once again. 

Three of them are on your bed. The rest are distributed across the floor and Jungkook’s slung uncomfortably on a chair. When you look back at Yoongi, it seems like he already knows all the thoughts running through your head. He already knows the words you want to say, but don’t know how to articulate. 

“We’ll do this every night if we have to, Y/N. For as long as it takes.” 

You leap from your spot under the blankets to wrap Yoongi in a bear hug, burying your face in his shoulder as he buries his in your hair. Though you are overheated from the cuddling and still dazed from sleep, you hold him with as much sincerity as you can muster. You have a feeling he can tell when he holds you back just as warmly. 

The movement makes Jimin and Taehyung wake in unison and as they rub the fatigue from their eyes and land on the sight of you perfectly swathed in Yoongi’s arms, the two of them think it’s a sight they could get used to waking up to. They wonder if you feel the same way. 

“Thank you.” Your words are airy and light in his ear, but Yoongi knows their true weight. He doesn’t say anything. Just plants a soft kiss on the side of your temple and relishes in the scent of your shampoo. 

When he stares past your shoulders, he meets the gaze of Jimin and Taehyung, who are fondly peering at the two of you. Years of being with each other, they’ve learned to communicate certain things without having to say anything. And right now, in the gentle morning light, the realization is beginning to seep in. 

Perhaps the way they care about you is more what they had expected. 

Living with the seven of them is an adjustment. Getting accustomed to a rhythm and routine in a house that’s the headquarters of an underground powerhouse is easier said than done. You were constantly surrounded with uncertainty and tiptoeing danger but you had never felt unsafe. They were there. And as long as you had them, this house was sanctuary. 

You’re not in any immediate danger. Your father had basically agreed to leave you alone for the foreseeable future and the media had begun to calm down. However, when the tides have settled, the boys are able to see you up close and personal and at all the ugly scares you’ve tried to hide from everyone. They’re able to see what those years of trauma has done to you. 

Whenever someone’s voice booms too loudly across the mansion, yelling orders at subordinates or for any other reason, you start to quiver like a leaf in the wind. When one of them reaches towards you too quickly, for simple things like a wave or to hold your hand, you can’t help but to flinch in anticipation. And you try to hide it, but it’s impossible not to notice. 

They notice everything. 

They always do, when it comes to you. 

With every mannerism and survival instinct that has been involuntarily drilled into your subconscious, they all grow angrier that you’ve been subjected to this pain. Hoseok has had to talk Namjoon down from sending their entire fleet to dismantle the ambassador a couple too many times as they continue to learn how deep the trauma with your father truly runs.

“Y/N…”, Jin hesitantly mutters, fiddling with the food on his plate nervously, “have you ever thought about...going to therapy?” 

You freeze in between a chew and swallow, eyes staring into his with an innocent deer-in-the-headlights expression. You look like you might have a panic attack, and Jin is quick to cut the tension. 

“N-not that we’re forcing you to do it, my love. It’s only a suggestion. It’s just that..maybe it would be good for you. To talk about things and get professional help.” By the way he says it, and the way the other boys are staring at you expectantly, you realize this is something they’ve probably been discussing for a while now. And though it’s heartwarming to know that they care about your health, the idea of going to therapy is deathly daunting. 

“I don’t know, guys…” You twist your hands in your lap, a nervous habit to show your discomfort and they all instantly regret bringing this up at all. You keep your gaze glued downwards. You’re afraid that if you look up, you’ll just see disappointment from the ones that you’ve grown to care about so much. You don’t think you could handle it. 

“Could you look at us, Y/N?” Namjoon’s voice is soothing and there is no single trace of anger or frustration. You slowly tilt your head upwards and meet his eyes. 

“At the end of the day, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. If you don’t want therapy, then fuck therapy, princess.” 

Namjoon feels gratification when his statement makes you smile, and his heart suspiciously flutters in his chest. 

“But we just want the best for you. We all want you to heal because…”, Namjoon looks around and makes eye contact with the rest of the boys, whom he knows share his same feelings. 

“You’re so important to us.” 

You’ve known this. You know that they care about you even when your mind forces you to doubt that anyone does. But when you hear it like this, so raw and unfiltered with sincerity leaking in every letter, it ignites something that you haven’t felt in a long time. 

Hope. 

You take a glance next to you at Jungkook, whose warm smile makes your lungs feel like molten honey. At Yoongi, who looks back at you with gentle eyes. At Hoseok, who is impossibly soft with you. At them all. It makes you realize something:

You don’t want to go to therapy. It’s scary and you’re not really sure if you want to talk about your father or your family or anything that happened before you met Bangtan. But you have people who care about you now. And if you didn’t want to do this for yourself, then, well... you would do it for them. 

“You don’t have to decide now, but-”

“I’ll do it.” Your voice slices through Taehyung’s words. “I’ll go to therapy.”

“Are you sure, Y/N?”, Hoseok questions. Though he wants you to very badly, he wants you to do it on your own terms. And though your statement is strong, he can see the doubt and uncertainty swimming in your irises. 

“No, not really.” you whisper, and they practically deflate so you are quick to remedy their dejection. 

“But...I know that I want to get better. I know it’s going to be hard, but I want to get better.” You take a deep breath.

“For you. All of you.” 

The room falls silent, and the noise of clinking cutlery against porcelain plates stills. They could only look at you and wonder what country they have saved in their past lifetime to deserve to stumble upon someone like you. Someone so wonderful, and so damaged but so determined to heal. For them. For all of them. 

Jungkook scoops your hand in his, and when you look in his eyes, you are stunned to see that there are unshed tears pooling at his waterline. He looks at you and there’s something in his gaze that you can’t place. Something lovely that makes you feel like all this hurt has been worth it. Jungkook looks at you like there is something worth looking at. 

“We love…” From your other side, Jimin starts speaking, but cuts himself off halfway through and suspiciously glances around the table, meeting the gaze of the six other boys who already know how he wants to finish that sentence. But he doesn’t. 

“W-We love that you want to do that for us”, he coughs, and you return it with a smile. 

Did a part of you want him to say something different? Something deeper? You’re not sure, but the tinge of disappointment in your stomach that follows his words is a sign. 

Could you allow yourself to think that someone could actually genuinely like you past platonicity? Much less seven powerful men? After years of your father telling you the complete opposite, accompanying each scathing word with a bruise, it’s difficult to believe anything different. 

Therapy was, in a word, completely exhausting. It was tiring dancing around the subject of your father’s abuse, your mother’s neglect, Soyeon’s blatant denial and just the complete package of being the eldest daughter to Ambassador Yoo. When they all had scheduled you for 4 sessions a week, you immediately wanted to decline and opt for one. But their eyes had all looked so hopeful. So excited for you to get professional help, and there was no possible way you could have turned them down. 

Progress is frustratingly slow, though. Some days you just want to quit.

 You plop unceremoniously on the large plush sofa, grabbing the nearest throw pillow and cradling it to your chest. The boys are all in the other room, but are now fully aware of your presence after you slammed the front door and huffed your way to the comforting couch. They can practically feel the rays of stress emanating from you. 

“Y/N? Baby? What’s wrong?” Jimin is the one that first approaches, and the rest stare on with concern leaking out of every pore. And when you reply with a sniffle and hiccup, their hearts all collectively break. 

You feel a dip in the couch and crane your neck to lock your teary eyes with Jimin’s, whose brows are deeply furrowed. You involuntarily launch into his arms, tucking your face into his neck, and inhaling his cologne that always manages to calm you down. You hear them all shuffle around you. 

“It’s just..”, your voice pitifully cracks, “hard.” From your position, they are thankful you cannot see the heartbreak in their expression. It’s so hard for them to see you as anything but happy. 

“I don’t know if I can do it”, you breathe out, feeling a new wave of tears begin to rise. You want to cry even more at the thought that they would be more disappointed in you. .

But there is a warmth from your other side, and you don’t know who it belongs to as it sits next to you. 

“I’m so proud of you, Y/N”, Namjoon whispers oh-so-softly. They are such simple words. Arguably mundane and ordinary. Then why does it knock the wind right out of your chest? Why does it light up your dark tunnel? He’s proud of you. They all are. Even when you are an emotional mess with low mental energy, Namjoon is sitting next to you and telling you that he’s proud. 

You erupt into heart wrenching sobs that won’t seem to stop no matter what you do. It’s the kind of cry that feels like a weight has been lifted off your chest. A cry that comes straight from your core and it sounds painful but truthfully, it’s just relieving. You know that all of them are worried out of their minds. You can feel it in the way Jimin shakily holds you as tight as he can, as if you are delicate chipped porcelain in his arms. 

But this is how you rebuild. With the seven of them by your side. You tell Namjoon to cancel your future therapy sessions the next day. Your psychologist was far short of revolutionary, and when they all asked you why, you admit that it’s not the therapy that’s helping you get better. 

It was just them. Being around them. Talking to them. 

It was Seokjin carding his hands through your hair and rubbing out the tension that always inevitably develops in your temples. It was Namjoon letting you lounge quietly in his office as he goes through paperwork, enjoying your presence as much as you enjoy his. It was Yoongi and Hoseok rambling to you about their adventures on the field (leaving out the gory details, of course. They wanted to keep you innocent and soft). It was Taehyung sneakily replacing your pink peonies as soon as the first petal began to wilt, even after the infinite amount of times you told him it was unnecessary. It was Jungkook and Jimin making excuses to spend the afternoon snuggled up on your bed when you all knew it was simply because they wanted to hold you. 

It was all of them tiptoeing around affection, craftily sneaking in spare kisses and touches on the skin. Holding you a little longer than necessary, a little more tenderly. Intertwining your hands under the dinner table, or when their subordinates weren’t looking. 

You notice the way they blush more often, if you let your touch linger for too long, or if you brush past them and make skin contact. You notice how pet names are easier to spill from their lips; ones like: my love, honey, sweetheart, baby...and you can’t help but to completely indulge in the way it is addressed only for you.  Little ways to subliminally tell you that perhaps you meant more to them than they were ready to admit. And you would be lying if you said your feelings for the seven of them were completely platonic. You would be lying if you said love wasn’t on the brain. 

Perhaps you are the missing piece to a puzzle they hadn’t realized was unfinished. 

“Hyung...I think I love her.” Jungkook is unsurprisingly the first one to voice it. The six others don’t even bat an eye. 

“No, Jungkook. I know you love her”, Hoseok whispers back in the tense silence of their meeting room. You are fast asleep on the floor above, but their hearts call out to you through the short distance. 

“I am too. We all are.” It is a truth they’ve known for a while. Sooner than they’re proud to admit. 

“I guess now all we have to do is figure out how to tell her.” 

They did want to. Tell you, that is. They wanted to shout it from the rooftops and make it known to the world that you are the angel that has snatched their hearts without even realizing it herself. If it hadn’t been for the disaster that suddenly struck their mafia, the boys would have already bared their souls to you. But timing was never kind. 

Bangtan were not known to be gullible. Not known to be easily fooled. So when Taehyung ran into their meeting room, red-faced and clenching his fists so hard they turned white, the Judas in their gang had come as a scathing surprise. 

One of their inner circle. Someone they had poured their trust and faith into, who had learned the system of their syndicate, had been a mole the entire time. Of course, they had disposed of him quickly, but the damage had already been done to their business. Allies and affiliates were backing away from collaboration in fear that Bangtan had been breached by law enforcement. Shipments were going missing more frequently, and even the lower hierarchies of their gang were beginning to become doubtful. To say the least, the seven of them were under debilitating stress and frustration. 

Nowadays, things were different than before. You were mostly kept in the dark about their business but you knew that something had happened. Something to make them so wound up, and it worried you to no end. It’s impossible not to notice how tense the house had become. 

Taehyung no longer stops by your room late at night, and in the early hours of the morning, you can still hear the frustrated clacking of his keyboard from next door. Not that you needed him to help you through your nightmares, but...you’ve gotten used to his comforting presence next to you.

Jungkook doesn’t seek you out for random conversations, and Namjoon just completely disappears in his office most days, not sparing you a single glance when he does manage to show his face outside. He locks the door now. You take it as a strong message that you are no longer welcome, and it upsets you, but you understand they are going through a rough patch. Your job is to be the least bothersome person you could possibly be. 

But Yoongi just flat out ignores you now, and you know Hoseok pretends to care about whatever topic of conversation you bring up. You can see right through his empty affirmations and nods. The kitchen is completely void of Jin, and there are no more clanging pots and pans when you try to cook for yourself. And Jimin is just like the rest of them: absent and indifferent to your presence. 

You know that it’s not you. The problem on their plate is bigger than you, but it still feels like you are a walking, breathing burden. You know that it’s not you, but your mind tells you they don’t want you here anymore. They’re sick of you. 

Two weeks pass by, and they’re still so cold even after all your attempts at trying to be calming comfort in their chaotic lives.  They still talk to you, but it’s strictly refrained to small talk that feels obligatory and like they have better things to do than spend time with you. They’re so busy that you often find yourself hanging out alone in the garden or making light conversation with the maids, or gang rookies that hang around the mansion. 

And it hurts to admit, but they don’t notice when you begin to regress to your old behavior. They don’t notice when you begin to flinch at anything that moves too quickly again, or the way you begin spacing out more than usual when you delve too far into your thoughts. They don’t notice when your nightmares start worsening again, too busy in their pooling stress to hear you toss and turn late at night and emerge from your bedroom with red, sunken eyes in the morning. You are relapsing into the learned behavior from your father, and you are terrified to admit it to yourself. But after a particularly bad day of anxiety and panic attacks, you put your fear aside to talk to the boys again about going back to therapy. It was virtually pointless, but you won’t let the seven of them take the brunt of your mental health when they had so much going on already. 

You timidly make your way down to the lower level of the mansion, slow footsteps leading you to their meeting room, where they’re all engrossed in their work and you can feel the tension choking the air. None of them notice your presence at first, until you cough to get their attention. They all snap their heads up and stare.

“Hey, could I um..talk to you guys for a couple minutes?”

 You feel like a specimen under a microscope. You used to be so comfortable talking to them. Now it just feels unnatural. 

“Can it wait, Y/N? We’ve just lost another shipment, and it’s a big one”, Yoongi grumbles from his seat, rifling through a tall stack of papers with a permanent crease in his brows. 

“Okay, then when can we-” 

“We’re just really busy right now.” 

Jungkook doesn’t mean for his voice to be so loud. He probably didn’t even pay attention to it, but it makes you flinch and stumble backwards. Makes you melt more into the girl you used to be. The one who stayed quiet out of survival, diminishing under the authority of a loud voice with cruel intentions. You know he doesn’t mean to do it. But you can’t help but see the face of your father again, and those long-healed scars seem to re-flicker with pain. 

Still, these were your boys. So you push on. 

A deep breath. “I was just thinking that maybe I could go back to-”

“Y/N, please. We don’t even have enough time to breathe. I’m sure whatever you need can be addressed later.”

The room falls into silence. Their message is loud and clear. And though it's painful to hear, it’s your own fault for exaggerating your place in their lives. He was right, it could be addressed later...you were just being a bother. 

“Right. Sorry.” Your halfhearted mutter falls deaf on their ears. They haven’t spared you a single ounce of attention, eyes still glued onto their work. You swallow down the heavy feeling in your throat and force the tears away. Why does your chest feel like someone’s twisted up your heart? 

You’re always so sensitive, Y/N. Such a crybaby. You can’t even take care of yourself. 

The tread upstairs back to your bedroom feels like an arduous journey as you try to hold yourself together and pretend like their actions hadn’t hurt you. But they weren’t responsible for your trauma. Your problems. You couldn’t blame them for not making it a priority, when their empire was threatened. 

They don’t hear you that night when you hold a goose-feather pillow to your chest and sob out the fear of being unwanted again. They don’t show up at your bedroom door when you wake yourself up from crying through a nightmare. 

You’ll figure it out yourself, with or without a therapist and with or without depending on them. From now on, you decide to make yourself invisible, focusing all your energy on dragging yourself out of the dark place you’re stuck in once again. So if you have to suffer in silence for their sake, so that they don’t have another insignificant loose end to worry about, you’ll do it. It’s the least you can do.

But you’d come to learn that those words are easier said than done. 

“Miss Y/N?” There is a light knock at your door, and the soft voice of the maid barely penetrates through the thick wood. You remember her name was Jun. The noise goes through in one ear and out of the other, and you can’t even find it in yourself to reply. 

“You haven’t left your room in two days. I was just...making sure you’re okay.”

Her statement shocks you out of your dazed stupor, and you hadn’t even realized the amount of time you spent staring into space, limp on your mattress.

 It was getting harder. To just function and drag yourself out of your bedroom so you didn’t, and two days unknowingly passed. But to you, they only felt like hours. Time passes by differently when you’re blindly navigating through trauma. 

It’s hard to sit up and slowly tread to the door, and your bones ache after not moving for so long. When you open it, guilt pools in your stomach to see her worried expression. Though you can guess why she looks so concerned. You’re a complete disaster. 

“Oh, honey…”, she sighs, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “here. Let’s get you into some fresh clothes.” 

You mindlessly let her help you out of your days old T-shirt and sweats, mindlessly let her guide you into the shower and turn on the water, mindlessly let her rub shampoo into your scalp. You don’t even have the energy to open your mouth and tell her the water’s too cold. You’re still stuck inside your own thoughts, and you can only hear your father’s voice in your ear as he repeatedly affirms how worthless you are. Useless Y/N, that’s what he would say. Good-for-nothing Y/N. 

You’ve somehow gotten it into your head that the reason why they’ve been so absent with you is because they don’t know to tell you they want you to leave. After all, staying in the Bangtan mansion was only supposed to be a temporary solution. Maybe this is how they kick you out. 

When Jun wraps you in a fluffy towel and drags you out from underneath the showerhead, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Your cheeks are sunken, and the dark circles under your eyes look almost painful. And somewhere along with that reflection is the image of your father. His angry face, glaring at you and screaming why you let yourself get like this. 

“Jun, have they…are they still busy?” Her eyes widen at the first words she’s heard from you, but there is sad sympathy on her face in a split second and you’ve already gotten your answer before she can say anything. 

“Yes, dear. The bosses are very occupied. But they can always make time for you, hm? They care about you a lot, you know.” Jun’s statement makes you frown, but you don’t retort. Maybe you used to think that they cared, but now it just felt like their kindness was out of obligation. They felt guilty for sending you back to your father. Or perhaps they used to care for you. But now...you weren’t so sure. 

When she manages to get you downstairs, in the kitchen, and set you in front of a bowl of soup, the boys are nowhere to be found. Jun tells you they’re out doing business and you tell yourself you’re not hurt that they hadn’t even noticed your absence for the past two days. 

They’re just roped up in other things, that’s all. 

After your shower and meal, Jun insisted that you take a stroll around the garden, and specifically instructed you to check out the new peony bush she had just planted. She mentioned it was per request of the seven bosses, but you had a hard time believing any of them would be concerned with something like that during this time. They hadn’t even made the time to talk to you. 

You hadn’t realized how much you needed to be outside and breathe in fresh air until you stepped out into the grassy space. Even though the solitude was getting to be too much, you were experiencing a newfound peace that you wanted to keep for as long as possible. Jun was right, and the peony bush was absolutely gorgeous. You actually feel like an alive and functioning human being. It was surprising that you were so dependent on the boys that without them, falling apart was inevitable. But now you were coherent and not so drowned in your toxic mentality (you’ll have to thank Jun profusely later), and you feel determined to talk to them again.  About going back to therapy, no matter how useless it felt back then, and try to get on your own two feet. Now that you had seen and felt how serious it was, you wouldn’t be so complicit if they tried to silence you. 

From over the tall hedges, the sounds of wheels rolling on gravel could be heard before the tense slams of car doors. The sound of Jungkook and Namjoon’s low muttering falls on your ears and though it sparks excitement inside you, you’re also fearful of what they might say. You don’t think you can handle another swift rejection like last time. Their indecipherable conversation ceases when you hear the entrance doors close, and seal them inside while you are still out here in your own world. 

The white peony that’s cupped in your hand feels so fragile and soft that you don’t want to touch it anymore. It makes you think of them. Of how delicate it feels recently and how you’re so deathly afraid of them changing their minds one day and kicking you out with nowhere to go. Maybe you’ll just wander around again. There’s a distant cousin in the states also, but you’d have to figure out how to get out of the country without alerting your father. You shake yourself out of your intrusive thoughts. 

No way your boys would do that to you.

Right?

The way back from the garden to the house is brief, but your anxiety about talking to them lengthens the trips and the feet feel like miles. You are wrapped up in your thoughts the entire way, and when you make your way into the house, you almost don’t notice the angry voices that are bouncing off the walls. It sounds like Taehyung is yelling, and the sound curdles your stomach. You hate it when people yell. It just reminds you of your father. 

You follow the commotion to the kitchen, extra cautious and apprehensive. The sheer volume of their reprimanding seems to shake the house and your hands begin to quiver as you get closer. Peeking out from behind a wall, their backs are to you but you can see the face of a sheepish boy who hangs his head, gaze glued to the floor as the seven men continue to berate him. You recognize him as one of the newer members that was initiated a couple weeks ago; you’ve talked to him a couple times and he was never anything but courteous. He looks like he’s about to cry and it makes your heart ache.

Your attention pans back to the seven out of shock. The only time you’ve seen them this angry was at the meeting with your father, so you can only imagine what that young boy has done to land himself in this position. 

“I told you a fucking million times too many, Lee. I told you to check in with the shipments as soon as they arrived in Myeongdong. So imagine my fucking surprise when I get a call notifying me that they’re all missing. Stolen.” Namjoon’s voice cuts straight through the room. His fists are clenched and even from the back, you can tell the expression on his face is one of scalding fury. 

A shipment? They’re this infuriated over a shipment?

“I-I’m sorry, Boss. Please, I...please forgive me. I know it’s no excuse but I’m new here, a-and I swear this will not happen again.” He shrinks into himself and you quietly whimper in sympathy. 

Yoongi humorlessly chuckles. “You swear? The only valuable thing you have to swear on is your life. And even that’s not worth much.” 

It’s moments like these that you forget how cruel and ruthless they can be. They’ve always been so soft and gentle with you before, you forget they are mafia bosses overseeing an entire empire. That they’ve gotten here for a reason. You forget that people fear them. But you remember now. 

Lee stays silent and still refuses to look up, but you can see the way his knees shake uncontrollably. He is one person standing up against 7 huffing bulls, so angry they can’t see straight so if you - tiny and meek you - has to be the one to come to his defense, so be it. 

Because you’ve been that person going head to head with a bull. You see yourself, terrified and regretful, in Lee. And you’ll be damned if you have to watch and not do anything about it. Your heart beats thunderously in your chest but you push past the fear. 

Their heads all snap up in surprise when you march into the kitchen and stand in between them and the boy, who looks even more painfully young up close and sporting that deer-in-the-headlights expression. You lock gazes with each of them, swallowing your nerves before speaking. 

“Is it really that big of a deal to yell at him like this? Look at him”, you gesture to the cowering person behind you, “don’t you think he’s had enough?” Your voice is still soft, and such a contrast to their angry ones. But it seems like your gentle tone just makes them even angrier, and snaps them out of their initial shock.  

“A big deal? He cost us thousands in shipments! I’d say that’s a pretty big fucking deal to me, Y/N.” Jungkook bursts out, exasperatedly running his hands through his hair and looking at you with an angry frown. You flinch at his volume. The stress on their shoulders is more apparent than ever.  

“Why are you defending him, Y/N? You don’t even know who he is”, Jimin spits, growing even more irritated. There’s a hint of jealousy in his words and it’s so subtle that you don’t even notice it. 

“I know that he doesn’t deserve to be yelled at like this for a little mistake. One that I’m sure he is regretful of making.” It suddenly feels daunting when you realize that you’re going up against all of them, and now, they’re all staring at you with the same anger that was meant for the one that messed up their shipments. 

“And what if that mistake is a sign that he’s traitorous? Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised. Seems like that’s a trend going around here.” From behind you, Lee is quick to open his mouth and begin to protest, but you interrupt and speak strongly. It seems this disciplining session has morphed into a full blown argument between you and them. 

“It was one person. I get that it’s shitty, and I’m sorry it happened. I understand that you have to be on watch now and extra cautious. I do.” You sigh, a pleading look in your eyes but they remain stone cold.

“But one person did that. Are you going to treat everyone like they betrayed you? Are you going to treat me like I betrayed you?”

“I don’t know Y/N, you were so quick to defend him. Maybe you did. I wouldn't put it past you.” 

Taehyung’s words run through you like a hot knife to butter. You almost stagger back at the shock. You’re no stranger to hurtful words but when they are coming out of his mouth, it hurts tenfold. How could they think you would betray them? 

They promised to trust you, didn’t they? They promise they’d believe you after they failed to the first time. Now it just feels like you’re that spoiled little rich girl again in their eyes, standing in front of them and pleading your innocence. 

“W-what? No, I-”

“You know nothing about our world, Y/N. You can’t possibly understand.” Jin’s silver voice is colder than you’re ever heard it. 

“I know that, but could you just please-”

“As a matter of fact, this is a mafia business matter”, Yoongi shoots, poisoned words designed to hurt. 

“I’m not sure why you’re here at all, Y/N. Just leave.” 

Gone is the strong persona that you had put up to protect this young boy. Gone is the confident woman who thought she had the will to stand up for herself, much less someone else. You can only keep your eyes glued to Yoongi, and hope that he doesn’t see your heart crumbling right in front of him. How had he aimed mindlessly at your insecurities, and shot a bullseye into the biggest one?

Maybe you did, Y/N. I wouldn’t put it past you.

Blame it on the blurriness through your tears or the sheer shock running through your veins, but you can’t find one smidgen of regret or guilt in his expression. On any of their faces. Just anger and annoyance, aimed directly at you. And suddenly the spacious mansion feels all too suffocating. 

You know nothing about our world Y/N.

The words you plan to say die on the tip of your tongue, as quickly as they came. There is nothing that comes out and in the aching silence of it all, the way you maintain eye contact with each of them speaks volumes. Yet they are blind to the way you are ripping at the seams, and oblivious to the turmoil they are putting you through. The coldness of their gaze and words shoot through your core, like a blade of ice piercing through your heart. 

I’m not sure why you’re here at all. 

Just leave. 

In short, right at this moment, they look like strangers. Strangers who know what scares you, what foods you don’t like, your favorite flowers, your favorite color. Strangers who have seen your heart, welcomed it, and who were now crushing it in front of you. 

What a fool you were to think that they could reciprocate your feelings. 

What a fool you were to think that they wanted you as much as you wanted them. 

Your pained chuckle is a discordant sound in the tense quiet. Their stares burn on your skin and though you are trying so hard to now show how utterly broken you feel, you wonder if they even notice. when you look back into the eyes of the boy directly in front of you, he is still so angry and red you find it hard to believe anything but your alleged cold, hard truth:

The seven boys you have fallen in love with utterly despise you. Perhaps they always have. 

“Yeah”, you whisper brokenly. “Maybe I will.” 

taglist: @pinkyhim​, @deolly​, @loveyoongles​, @drunkzseok​, @hope122598​, @uwunamjoon​, @nomimits7​, @bubblebunnylia​, @aquaalanah​, @juliie-ocha, @daydreambrliever​, @btsbabby​, @blank-et-noir, @myheartstaysinkorea, @rosiethefairy​, @tiredjedi, @lovemyself-persona​, @jeoncookie-bts​, @annoyingpessimist​, @beach-bitch-bitch-beach​, @fangirling-all-the-way-tbh, @btstxtgenre​, @taesugaar​, @hxsxxk-180294​, @bubbletae7​, @uglyratlmao​, @hopetookmysoul​, @supertweetycherry​, @missseoulite​, @barbikatherine​, @jamesfrickingbuchananbarnes​, @sunsetsnsirens-blog​, @vanilla-smash​, @lmaosani​, @onionhaseyeo​, @i-dumb-bitch​, @euphxriajoon​, @justpeachyjoon​, @dabbingangels​, @h5naaa​, @parkmaeri, @softescapism​, @bena-baby​, @myjiminmychimchim , @moments-of-melancholy​, @krystle1990​, @chatsgotmytongue​, @vi-hoshi​, @unlikelylittlemiss​, @rosey-roseau, @thestrugglesofateenagedirtbag​, @kookiebbyxx​,

[aminathescorpio]

Birthday Fic

So I know this is literally the worst time ever, but I finally finished my birthday present fic for @faevorite-main-blog!!! Ily so much, and I hope you like it ���️🧡💛💚💙💜🤍🤎💝💘💖💕💗💞💓💜🧡💙💔

Featuring; Beauxbatons Draco and Hopelessly-Pining (and slightly jealous) Harry!

(I)

When the Beauxbatons students first arrive at Hogwarts, Harry isn’t particularly bothered about them. Besides the occasional Veela, none of them really catch his eye (unlike Ron, however, who was already on the receiving end of Hermione’s nasty glare. Not that he noticed, though. He was too busy staring shamelessly at the Beauxbatons girls). That is, until Harry spots a blond boy trailing at the end of the students, walking with two other students beside him.

Harry freezes at the sight of him, his spoon stopping halfway on the way to his open mouth. Fuck, he doesn’t even know whether to start with his silky hair or how his uniform hugs all the right places or his arse-

It isn’t until Ron is thumping on his back that Harry realizes that he’s choked on a mouthful of mashed potatoes.

“You alright, mate?’ He follows Harry’s gaze until he notices what (or who) Harry was staring at. He sighs.

“Really, mate?”

“Don’t act like you haven’t been ogling all the other Veelas, Ron!” Hermione cuts in, sharply. And a bit jealously too, Harry notices. As the two of them start to bicker, he rolls his eyes to himself and continues to eat, trying to find the blond in the crowd again. He could only hope that Ron and ‘Mione get over their arses and finally ask each other out. Although Harry would fare much better trying to find his blond bombshell, anyways.

(II)

After nearly a week of trying, Harry finally manages to catch the blond by himself one day, looking around at the countless portraits and suits of armor curiously. Harry is quite pleased to note that his boyfriend (well, his future boyfriend, anyways) seems to get along with all of them fairly well. As he approaches him, he starts to hear more snippets of their conversation. He gulps when he realizes that they’re speaking French. Fucking French.

“Uh, hi,” Harry says awkwardly, startling his boyfriend and the portrait. The lady in the painting huffs and slides out of her frame before any of them can stop her. Well, it’s not as if Harry needs her around, anyways.

“Hello,” his boyfriend replies, with a thick French accent. Harry gulps again.

“I-um-I’m Harry. Harry Potter.” Just as he expects his boyfriend lets out a small (and adorable) gasp.

“Oh. My name is Draco Malfoy,” he replies, although he still looks a bit confused. And his gaze is also fixed on the white lock of hair that rests above Harry’s scar; it contrasts greatly from the rest of Harry’s black, messy hair. Usually he would be annoyed, but he doesn’t mind Draco doing it. Bloody hell, even his name is amazing. And unique. And loads of other sappy rot that Harry can’t bring himself to say.

“I don’t have any classes now, so I can show you around if you like.” Harry mentally sighs in relief when he doesn’t stutter on any word again. Draco smiles at him again, although it’s apologetic now.

“Thank you for your offer, but Theo has already given me a tour of the castle,” he says warmly, as if he’s trying not to upset Harry. It takes Harry a moment to realize who he’s talking about.

“Theodore Nott?” He asks, furrowing his eyebrows. Draco smiles and nods.

“Yes. He’s known me since we were little. I still talk to him by owl,” he says fondly. Harry grits his teeth and tries to push down the wave of jealousy that’s rushing through his veins.

“Well… maybe I could take you to Hogsmeade this weekend?” Harry asks weakly, looking around nervously and settling on a suit of armor. To his surprise, Draco laughs.

“Are you sure?” Draco asks, fiddling with his blue mini cape. Now Harry is confused.

“What do you mean?”

“Saturday is Valentine’s Day. Surely the ‘Chosen One’ has a girlfriend to buy chocolate for, hm?” Draco smirks, nudging Harry knowingly. Harry loses track of their conversation for a moment because Draco’s ‘s’s sound like ‘z’s and its bloody hot.

“Er, no, I don’t.” And before he thinks it over, he rushes “But maybe I could take you instead?”

Draco blushes, and Harry has to physically restrain himself from doing something he would regret later. Like kissing-

“Yes, I would like to go with you, Haz.” Draco giggles.

“I-really? You really want to? And did you call me Haz?” Draco’s cheeks color even more.

“Oh, if you don’t like it I- “

“I love it,’ Harry says firmly. Draco giggles again. And then he’s stepping on his tiptoes and kissing Harry’s cheek.

“I will see you on Saturday, Haz,” he smiles. As he turns to walk away, the only thing Harry’s overheated brain can think about is that Draco agreed to go on a date with him. A date. And his arse looks amazing in his fitted trousers.

Harry’s never felt happier.

[myhockeyworld87]

Bubble Wrapped - Part 11

Word Count: 3,827

POV: Reader

Warnings: Same as always, Language, Smut, NSFW, Please see the note in the Masterlist

Teams: Bruins, Caps, Flyers, Lightning, Pens, Jackets, Canes, Islanders (more to come)

Notes: You guys have spoken and so here it is the next part of Bubble Wrapped. The new Jamie Benn series RUINED will be out on Thursday.As always feedback is greatly appreciated and wanted...hahaha! Luv ya all!! Happy Reading to all!

The elevator door opened and you walked with Dougie, Joel, and Svech to your suite. All you could think about was how you were going to live with these three for the next few days. They were extremely easy on the eyes, not to mention the comment you swore you heard Edmundson say in the elevator, had you wondering if he'd be sneaking into your bedroom. Not that you were opposed to that, but the bedrooms were kind of close together so the other two would know what was going on. That was unless they were all in there with you.

 Oh god, you needed to get your mind out of the gutter. You opened the door, inviting them all in. "I'll be sure to have keys made for you guys for the next couple of days." Though if you had to guess Carly was probably already taking care of that as you spoke. "So I'll give you a quick tour. This is the living room, obviously, and over there is the dining room." You pointed out each thing as you went. "The bar is fully stocked, but please don't drink all my pinot noir." The last thing you needed was them showing up to a game drunk and their coach reading you the riot act, but they were grown men and it wasn't like you were going to lock up all the alcohol as if they were teenagers. Well, on second thought, maybe you should after what they did to your hotel room. "This is the kitchen. If there's something special you want, just write it down and I'll have the staff bring it up."

 Svech opened the refrigerator doors and took a peek inside. "Man, you've got cookie dough ice cream in here!" It wasn't something that you indulged in every night, but there were times that you just needed a couple scoops to get through the week.

 "If there's another kind you like, just let me know." You told him and his face lit up like a child on Christmas morning. "Now, if you want to follow me upstairs; I'll show you your rooms." They trailed after you and you felt like a mama duck with her ducklings. "This door right here will take you to the rooftop pool, but please don't go up there if it's not your team time." The last thing you need was someone being pushed off the roof or some such nonsense. "This is my room." Joel craned his neck inside and damnit if you didn't blush as one of your bras was laying on top of the bed from when you were getting ready this morning. You tried to keep them moving down the hall. "Over here is the room with the king and then this one has the two queen beds. Your stuff should be up in a few minutes, but feel free to make yourself at home. I'm going to have to get back to work and clean up the mess that you made."

 "We're really sorry," Dougie told you, with a sad look in his eye. It was really hard to be mad at someone when they were being somewhat adorable at the same time.

 "I know, it's fine, but please tell me what the hell you guys were doing that you broke a water pipe."

 The three of them exchanged glances debating on whether or not to spill the beans, while you tried to give your best impression of your mother. It was the look she always gave you when you did something wrong that just made you so guilt ridden that you finally confessed all your sins. Svech, being the baby of the group, finally couldn't take it. "You see we have a game tonight against Boston," he explained as if that was supposed to be the answer. When he didn't say anything more, you crossed your arms across your chest and just waited. "Anyhow…we heard that Pastrnak's room was above Joel's here. We thought we could interrupt his sleep and maybe throw off his game."

 Oh my god, you had to be kidding. Did these three really think that something like that would work? From the look on their faces, the answer was a resounding yes. "What about you guys? Wouldn't you be missing sleep as well?" They all looked at you dumbfounded as if that never occurred to them. God, athlete's were really didn't think sometimes, did they? "So I take you were banging on the ceiling a little too hard with the hockey stick that I saw?"

 "Yeah," Joel answered sheepishly for the group. "Again, we're really sorry."

 "Well, please don't let it happen in this room. I'd like to keep my job."

 "No, never," Dougie told you.

 "Besides, we're on the top floor. We couldn't annoy anyone if we tried." Svech added. Obviously, he didn't include you in that anyone part.

 "Well, I need to get back to work." Just then there was a knock on the door and you took off downstairs to answer it. It was a couple of bellhops with all their luggage. "The guys will show you what rooms to put it in. Thank you two for coming up so fast with all this stuff. I'm off to the lobby, if you need anything just give me a call."

 "Will do," you heard the trio say as you headed out the door.

 "Oh, and one more thing. No parties up here."

 "You got it, boss." This time you weren't sure if it was the bellhops or your new roommates calling out to you as you shut the door behind you.

 The day went fast, as you were helping Carly find parts to fix the room as well as trying to get all new furnishings in. You literally had a small window of time you were working with. Thankfully, you still had some new mattresses tucked away, when you changed some of the queen beds to king-size. It was the dressers and televisions that you needed to get in, as well as new flooring. Before you knew it, the night shift was taking over and you were headed up to your room.

 The guys were still playing game three and the suite was quiet as you entered. Last you heard they were losing but you hadn't been able to see any of it on television. You hurried upstairs and changed into some comfy clothes, before putting the game on. It was in the third period and the Canes had the puck in the offensive zone. You were too busy following the puck to see exactly what happened, but then the whistle blew and you saw him laying on the ice. Players often went down and then only seconds later got back up and were back ready to play, so you tried not to think the worst, but then they replayed what actually happened. What you couldn't decide was whether it was Svech's knee or ankle that seemed to totally snap as he fell. Your stomach dropped and you couldn't even watch it again, as the camera seemed to zoom in. Trainers dashed onto the ice to take care of him until they finally helped carry him off; Svech not putting any weight on his leg. You weren't sure if he'd be back tonight or not, it was obvious that he needed to go to the hospital to be evaluated, but he was definitely going to need someone to take care of him when he did get back.

 It was a couple hours later when Dougie and Joel came in, neither of them knowing how Svech was doing at the moment, only saying that he was getting scans and MRIs done. They were both mentally and physically exhausted and everyone headed to bed, including you. It was about one-thirty in the morning that you woke up, your brain in a slight sleep fog as you remembered you forgot to set the coffee pot to have your morning brew ready. Let's face it you weren't a functioning human being until at least one cup of caffeine in the morning, well unless you were greeted by a certain smiling hockey player when you rolled over. Quickly, you darted out of your room and down the stairs. You fumbled with the coffee maker for a few minutes in the dark before setting everything up for auto-perk, then went to head back up to your room.

 You'd just stepped into the living room when a figure in white moved on the couch. "Jesus!" you gasped, not sure if you were asking for his help or seeing his spirit move in your suite. As your eyes finally adjusted to the dim light, you could make out that it was Joel squishing his large frame on the sofa. "What are you doing down here?"

 "I couldn't sleep." He mumbled, punching at his pillow before throwing it behind his head in hopes of finding some sort of comfortable position. His gaze lingered on your body a little longer than necessary and it was then that you realized you were only in a cutoff t-shirt and a thong. You hated wearing sleep pants to bed as your legs always got overheated and, in your haste, to get the coffee ready, you hadn't thought to put any on.

 "Is something wrong with the room?"

 "God, no," he was quick to tell you. "It's just…" he seemed to hesitate, so you took a step closer, knowing that it probably wasn't the smartest thing to do given your lack of dress, but you wanted him to know that he could talk to you. "I rolled over and saw Svech's empty bed and kept thinking about how he went down. Thought if I came down here, I could maybe get some shut-eye."

 "How's that working out?"

 He obviously knew you were teasing, as he gave a light chuckle. "Not so bad." His eyes looked you up and down again, and the sympathy you had for him a moment ago, almost vanished.

 "Oh good, then I'll just head back up to my room if you're all comfy."

 "Wait," he said stopping you even though you were kidding. There was no way you were going to let this nearly six-and-a-half-foot body, fit on that tiny couch all night. "Does this thing pull out or something? This couch is actually kind of small."

 "Well, no it's not a pullout. I was actually going to offer my bed to you." His eyes got huge at your suggestion and he started to grab his pillow and sit up. "I'll just take your bed if you don't care."

 "Oh, no I can't let you do that. I'm fine here." Fluffing the pillow back up he threw it behind his head. His frame curling up as best he could on the sofa.

 "Don't be an ass, and take my bed."

 "What kind of gentlemen would I be, if I did that?" Was he just trying to be difficult now or nice; you couldn't really tell?

 "Seriously, you'll be all cramped up if you sleep down here. Now, get your butt upstairs."

 "We could share your bed." Ah, so there it was, the real reason, he wouldn't take your bed. "I promise no funny business." He sounded like your grandmother when he put it like that.

 "If it lets us both get some sleep, then sure." Joel jumped up off the couch as if he hadn't been curled up in a ball on it, grabbing his pillow and following your up the stairs. Once ensconced inside the room, you shut the door before asking, "Which side do you want?"

 "Doesn't matter." You went to crawl in the under the right side of the covers and heard him make a noise, obviously distressed that you'd chosen that side.

 "You could've just said you wanted this one," you teased him, then scooted over to the left side of the bed.

 "I'm trying to be accommodating."

 Turning, you faced the middle of the bed. The fact that it was a California king meant that even with how tall Joel was there was still enough room between the two of you to fit another person. "Goodnight," you whispered over, closing your eyes and wondering if he'd make any sort of move on you.

 "Night," you heard him as he lay facing you. You were almost asleep when you felt him shift, not wanting to open your eyes to see if it was closer to you or if he actually just turned over. Instead, you laid there and waited, and were surprised when nothing happened. Sneaking a quick peek told you that he was laying on his back. You took a moment to take in his well-chiseled form; arms well defined from lifting weights you assumed, a smattering of chest hair barely noticeable in the moonlight, and that indent leading to a happy trail which was covered by blankets. If he didn't do something soon, you were pretty sure you were.

 He moved again, this time presenting you with his back. "Is something wrong?" you called over, and he flipped back once again. Thank god this wasn't a waterbed or you'd have been seasick.

 "Hmm," he mumbled. "No…sorry." You opened your eyes then, and he was just laying there staring at you. "God, you're beautiful...sorry…I promised nothing…" You didn't let him finish, as you scooched over and planted a kiss on his lips. It didn't take long for it to turn into something heated as his tongue quickly sought entrance into your mouth. His hands slipped up under your shirt so he could cup your breasts. The globes molding perfectly in his large hands. A moan escaped your lips as he tweaked each nipple and you felt a rush of wetness go straight to your core.

 You slid your hands down his chest, raking your nails over his abs and causing him to shiver. Joel gathered the hem of your shirt, then lifted it over your head, tossing it somewhere in the bedroom. Pushing his boxers down, you palmed the length of him, and god was there length to him. He hissed out his pleasure as you slid your hand up and down his shaft.

 His hand slithered into your panties; his fingers toying with both your clit and pussy. "So wet," he breathed out and you took the opportunity to push him down so he lay on his back. You quickly disposed of the flimsy garment that was your underwear, before straddling his hips and positioning his cock at your core. Leaning down you touched your lips to his as you slowly sunk down on him.

 Once he was buried fully inside you, you broke the kiss. Whispering for him to be quiet as you started to rock back and forth. Grabbing the headboard for leverage, your body moved up and down on his length. Joel's hand went straight to your hips, helping you find a rhythm that both of you enjoyed. It didn't take long to find a pace that had you both worked up. "Don't stop baby." He hissed out, then took one hand and started to rub your clit. Your back arched and you felt the hand on your hip slide up to cup your breast as you rode him. His hips were rising to meet you now and with the flicking motion on your clit, you could feel the orgasm start to build. Your pussy started to spasm, squeezing his cock as you climaxed. "Fuck," he moaned and flipped you on your back mid-orgasm. Joel, grabbed your hips pinning you to the bed as his cock pistoned in and out of you, as he thoroughly fucked your pussy, and though you'd just climaxed seconds ago, you felt another bursting to the surface. Your legs started to tremble and you clasp them around Joel's waist holding on for dear life. His head dipped down to your shoulder and he softly bit you there as he thrust a few more times before spending deep within you. His arms were shaking with an effort to remain upright and not just topple on you, but he managed to kiss you quickly before rolling back onto his side of the bed.

 You laid there, chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. Fuck, had you ever orgasmed so close together like that before? There wasn't a time that came to mind, well except when Tyler was playing with that vibrator, but that really didn't count. Joel was like some sort of sex god, and you had to wonder if you had sex again would it be just as good? Hopefully, you'd find out tomorrow night or the next for that matter, but for now, you needed to not act like the man had just given you one of the best orgasms of your life. You rolled onto your side to face him, propping your head on your hand. "Think you'll be able to sleep now?"

 He laughed at the comment, still a bit out of breath. "Oh yeah," he responded finally, though he padded out of bed to the bathroom and you heard him splash some water on his face, before coming back in with a wet washcloth to clean you up. Joel pulled the covers back, then gently spread your legs, before wiping your thighs and then your pussy. It was all rather intimate but after what the two of you had just done, nothing seemed off-limits. He tossed the cloth, back in the bathroom, then crawled back into bed, bringing the blankets up around both of you, before scooting closer to you and tucking you into his side. "I think I'll sleep even better if you're like this. Unless this is too uncomfortable for you?"

 Damn, if this man wasn't a gentleman. "Not at all," you told him and snuggled a little closer toward him. His breathing evened out in minutes and the hand that was idly stroking your back, slowly stopped. It took him all of about two minutes to fall asleep. You chuckled to yourself at that fact, though quickly followed behind him.

 You were still locked in the same position the next morning when you felt the sun peeking through the small opening you'd left in the blinds. Slowly, you opened your eyes, careful not to move too much in hopes of not disturbing Joel if he was sleeping. Though as you opened them, you were greeted with his staring back at you. "Morning," you whispered groggily.

 "Morning, beautiful." You stretched as much as you could, while still held within the comfort of his arms. "Thanks again for last night. Best night's sleep I've had since I got in the bubble."

 "Well, we do pride ourselves here in our customers getting a good night's sleep."

 He laughed, then dropped a kiss to your forehead. "You definitely live up to your word."

 Glancing over at the clock, you noticed the time and knew that you had to get ready to start your day. "I'd love to stay here in bed with you all day, but some of us have work."

 He pulled you close, and took the opportunity to kiss you fully on the lips before answering. "We have practice as well. I should probably grab a bite to eat first. I'll meet you downstairs in a bit." He kissed you one last time, before climbing out of bed and heading back to his room.

 It was about forty-five minutes later, that you came downstairs to find both him and Dougie sitting at the dining room table where a full breakfast was laid out. "Wow, what's this?"

 "I took the liberty of ordering room service," Joel told you. "I wasn't sure what you liked, so there's a little bit of everything." You were used to just grabbing a yogurt and maybe a banana, but the Belgium waffles smelled delicious, so you sat down and joined them.

 "Thanks," you said, as you grabbed a bit of fresh fruit and put it on your plate. "Did you guys sleep well?" You already knew Joel's answer but you wanted to make it look good so that Dougie wouldn't know what the two of you had been up to.

 "I slept like the dead," Dougie answered. "Haven't had that good of sleep in a long time."

 "Same," Joel said only his face turned a delightful shade of red and he started to cough.

 "Dude, are you choking or something?" Dougie said, patting him on the back.

 "I'm fine," he finally got out. "Wrong pipe." Joel was saved from further embarrassment as the door to the suite opened and in came Svech, hobbling on a pair of crutches and wearing a boot on his leg.

 "Hey man, how are you?" Dougie asked as you all got up to go check on him.

 "Ok, still not sure the extent of anything. They're going to do another MRI tomorrow. Doctors just said to stay off it and take it easy." Andrei answered the question you were all dying to know.

 "Well, here why don't you sit down," you told him, motioning for him to go on the couch. He plopped down and you immediately went and grabbed a few pillows to prop under his leg. "Can I get you something to eat?"

 "Yes, I'm starving. I haven't had anything since before the game." You went over and made him a heaping plate of breakfast food, while the guys talked specifics with him. He was definitely out for the rest of the series and you had a feeling it would be the rest of playoffs if the Canes made it through this round. "This is great, thank you."

 "I need to get downstairs and check on things, are you going to be ok here?" You asked Svech.

 "Yeah, I just have to figure out the stairs. I slept like hell." His face confirmed the words he'd just spoken as there were bags under his eyes. "Sure, that wasn't the case for you guys."

 Joel avoided looking at his younger colleague and you almost burst out laughing. "If you can wait here for about twenty minutes, I'll take you in through the pool." You told him. "We can use the door upstairs that has a private entrance into the suite that I showed you yesterday, that way you don't have to use the stairs. You just need a different key to get back in."

 "Wow, been holding out on us." Dougie teased. "We could've had a pool party last night." You rolled your eyes.

 "Finish your breakfast, and I'll be back in a few." You headed off to make sure that everything was fine in the hotel and to see if you were needed for anything as you had a feeling that Svech was going to need a lot more help than just making it upstairs.

[spartanguard]

a wee bit sweaty

just a bit of smuff inspired by a certain someone being a thirst trap on instagram today. it *was* going to be PWP but then ~feelz~ happened. enjoy!

It was a little surprising, at first, when Killian took to boxing so quickly. Emma had figured he might take up running or crossfit, or something a little bit more like whatever it was he did in his sailing past. But she supposed fighting was as much a part of being a pirate as pillaging, and she was willing to bet it meant he took out his annoyance on the bag rather than whichever dwarf was pissing him off that day.

He had set up a punching bag in the shed and would usually head out there for an hour or so in the evenings to wind down from the day, and then would slip upstairs for a shower before dinner. It was rare she caught him before he cleaned up—something about “You wouldn’t want to see me all putrid and disgusting like that, Swan”—but the few times she did, usually bearing a cold glass of water, she had to beg to differ with his assessment. 

Brushing his sweaty fringe from his face, and seeing the way his now-wet tshirt clung to his skin? She couldn’t find anything to complain about there. (Especially not with the way his muscles looked after a workout, and how toned they were getting in general. Because damn. Even her dad had noticed.)

Honestly, she was getting tired of him running off and not giving her a chance to appreciate his hard work. Besides, shouldn’t he be rewarded for it? And she was pretty sure she knew of a way to make both of those things happen.

So, on the first muggy day they got that spring, she decided enough was enough. He’d had to break up not one, but three dwarven disputes that day, and spent longer than usual releasing his frustrations in the shed. She was patient, though. 

Like she’d done in the past, she greeted him when he came in the back door with a glass of ice water, which he downed almost immediately. She took the opportunity to watch the way the lingering sweat was dripping down his jaw and neck, the cords of which were on full display as he quenched his thirst. 

When the glass was mostly empty, he sighed, and the movement of his chest under the fabric stretched across it was mesmerizing. And then he brushed the sweat from his face with his left arm, highlighting the even tauter stretch of the sleeve against his bulging bicep. It didn’t even look comfortable. She should probably try to get it off of him ASAP.

“Ahem,” he said, breaking her from her reverie. “Looks like you need a drink yourself, love; I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so thirsty.” The smirk on his face told her wasn’t talking about water.

“Positively parched,” she replied, then fisted the sweaty fabric of his shirt in her hands and dragged his lips down to hers in a searing kiss.

He pulled her close with his free arm—his right hand still holding the glass—and pulled her back toward him, countering her aggressive first move. She could feel his sweat seeping onto her tank top from his stomach, but didn’t care; neither of them would be dressed much longer, if she had her way.

Her hands drifted from his solid chest to his firm biceps, squeezing them as she continued to devour his mouth. She could feel his muscles moving under his warm skin as their weight shifted back and forth, and—oh, god, was he flexing just for her?

Cold reality washed over her a moment later and she yelped. Wait, no—that was cold water, which had been dumped on her by her husband. She was frozen—literally, or at least she felt like it—while he stood there chuckling, but she was more upset that she wasn’t feeling the rumble of his laugh through his breastbone than she was over the sliver of ice working its way down her back.

“Jerk,” she muttered, unconvincingly.

“You said you were thirsty,” he teased as he set the empty glass on the table.

“Not what I meant,” she tossed back, playfully slapping his pec—and leaving her hand there. “But, I guess, if my hair is already wet, I better hop in the shower to wash it, huh?”

“Well, that’s a conundrum,” he answered, stepping close enough that she could feel the heat rolling off of him. “Because I was just about to take one.”

“Oh damn,” she sarcastically complained. “Guess we’ll just have to share.”

A slow, devilish grin took over his face, and in one swift motion, he reached around her rear end and lifted her into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist, then found her lips again—and didn’t break away until they were upstairs, in their bathroom. She gripped onto his shoulders as he carried her, but not out of fear—she had never felt more secure in his hold, in fact—but just so she could feel the strain in the muscles. 

When they reached the bathroom, he set her on the vanity counter and then pressed even closer; she sighed at the feeling of his arousal pressing against her own. “Damn,” she breathed, and grabbed his biceps yet again.

He didn’t reply; he just leaned his forehead against hers as he caught his breath (finally; he hadn’t quite yet, not since he’d come inside). Meanwhile, her fingers slid up over his shoulders, down the planes of his chest, and over his ticklish sides (being very careful not to agitate him) until she found the hem of his tshirt.

God, this was like unwrapping a present. She tucked her hands under the fabric, against his overheated skin, and began to pull up—first, revealing his stomach, firm and soft in all the right ways, but a little more solid than usual at the moment, a bit more definition of the muscles on either side of that trail of dark hair; then up across his chest, still heaving a bit, which only picked up when she dragged her fingers through its dusting of fuzz. 

He had to lean away when she reached his collarbones, but dutifully lifted his arms as she tugged the shirt up them. He disappeared into the black cotton for a moment, but then popped back out a moment later, his hair becoming adorably mussed and pointing in every which way. A few strands fell back into his eyes, though, which were a bit softer than they were earlier—but hadn’t lost the heat behind them.

She dropped the shirt and tried to scoot closer (which wasn’t even possible) as her eyes took in the full glory of Killian’s upper body: every dip of muscle, every freckle, every scar. Not that she hadn’t seen it before—not that it really looked all that different—but it all just showed how strong he was, and not just physically (even if that was particularly on display at the moment).

“What is it, love?” he asked quietly, drawing her gaze back to his face. 

“Just admiring the view,” she answered casually.

He smirked a bit—the kind he always got when his vanity was being stroked, the kind that cut a dimple into that scruff—but it turned into a soft smile quickly. “That’s not all, though—is it?”

God, he could always read her so well. “It’s just…” She sighed. “This is gonna sound ridiculous, but when I see and feel these—” she gripped his biceps (again) for emphasis “—and see how strong you are, muscularly, it’s like...it’s a reflection of how I see you all the time: you’re the strongest guy, emotionally or mentally or whatever, that I’ve ever known, and I always know I’m safe in your arms.”

She glanced away; she still wasn’t great at the whole expressing-feelings thing (even if she had come miles from where she started) and that was...that was deep. But he guided her chin back up with his blunted wrist, where she saw nothing but the purest love shining in his eyes. 

“And I hope you always do, my love, even if there comes a day these arms aren’t so solid. But they’ll always be able to hold you.”

She had no words to reply to that, but none were needed. She just found his lips with hers, and they moved as one after that. 

In no time at all, they had both shed their clothes (with the appropriate amount of ogling and caressing of favored body parts), gotten the shower to the right temperature, and stepped into the spray. The water alone wasn’t enough to clean Killian, but there’d be time for that later; right now, they were content to be wrapped up in each other, lined up from tip to toe, the heat of the water amplifying the warm, musky scent that she’d come to identify as purely Killian. 

Every slight move sent a jolt of excitement through Emma, from the innocent knocking of knees to the arousing brush of her nipples against the hair over his firm pecs to the almost incendiary press of his erection against her core, made all the more sensual by the constant rain of water droplets over their increasingly flushed skin.

And after the appropriate amount of foreplay—which, in this situation, wasn’t much—he held her thigh in his sure grip, she grasped onto his shoulders, and he slid into her, filling her perfectly like always. She let out a sigh of relief at first, but then he started to move, and it was all she could do to anchor herself to him; thank god the dips his collarbones perfectly fit her thumbs.

They started gentle, the tiniest of thrusts bringing gentle friction to her inner walls, taking their time to build their speed, until the pressure coiling in her stomach was too much to bear and she urged him on. Faster and longer and higher they climbed until she came with a gasp, a tingling sensation spreading over her body as her climax washed over her in time with the water that was doing the same.

Her head fell to Killian’s shoulder and he wasn’t far behind, thrusting a few more times until he said her name in a ragged voice and stilled alongside and within her, probably bruising her thigh with how hard he was holding but she didn’t care; how could she in this moment of pure bliss?

He pulled out when he was done and they let the shower help them clean up before turning their attention to each other; eventually, the salty sweat was replaced by the scent of Emma’s favorite lavender body wash, and Killian’s fingers had massaged her scalp and detangled her tresses. 

And a few hours later, they were curled up in bed, on the edge of sleep, when Killian’s arms tightened around Emma. She rested her head on his chest—the perfect pillow, really—and snuggled in just a bit closer, her hand reaching for his opposite bicep to hold him close. She drifted off knowing she was in the safest place in the world.

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

thanks for reading! tagging some friends:  @kat2609​ @thesschesthair​ @optomisticgirl​ @xpumpkindumplingx​ @shipsxahoy​ @amortentia-on-the-rocks​ @mryddinwilt​ @cocohook38​ @annytecture​ @wingedlioness​ @word-bug​ @distant-rose​ @wellhellotragic​ @welllpthisishappening​ @let-it-raines​ @pirateherokillian​ @bleebug​ @its-imperator-furiosa​ @fergus80​ @killianmesmalls​ @sherlockianwhovian​ @ineffablecolors​ @laschatzi​ @ive-always-been-a-pirate​ @nfbagelperson​ @stubblesandwich​​ @killian-whump​​ @lenfaz​ @phiralovesloki​ @athenascarlet​ @kmomof4​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @snowbellewells​ @idristardis​ @scientificapricot​ @searchingwardrobes​

[radioactivespacerobot]

This was a triumph...I’m making a note here...”Hello World”

Hello. My name is Aethus Arco, but you can call me Arco if it suits you. I'm basically a modified version of Aperture Science Corp. core drone, but I was taken away by an ex-employee of theirs named Simon Maxwell, which was fired for mocking the head company leader Cave Johnson and caught tossing lemons at Mr. Johnson's hovercar. Maxwell was promptly stripped of any Aperture Science technology and forced into an elevator to the surface. However, they did not realize that he had a key card back onto the company premises and managed to dig through enough scrap bins and salvage heaps in their upper levels.

He took me to his lab at home, where he repaired me and made some modifications. He changed my skin tone (painted me matte black), altered my internal core's internal lighting (green for stable, red for overheating and yellow for diagnostic inquiry). He also eventually provided me with an external body suit that he developed himself, to attach to - in the event that he requires a bodyguard or for me to be an extra pair of hands in his lab. When news of the destruction at Aperture Labs spread, Maxwell started the decline of his mental health. He began taking excursions into the ruins, searching for documents on various projects the place had worked on. He would always return empty handed with broken down turrets, miniaturized versions of companion cubes, and one time a solid plastic version of what looked to be a chocolate cake. After months of searching, Maxwell came running back into his lab, laughing haphazardly into a cacophonous torrent of hacking coughs. After catching his breath, he produced a microchip that looked old and dated, placing it into his computer. On the screen popped up a schematic of several parts spread apart, which moved together to form a singular object that resembled a hand cannon. In the corner was the project ID "ASHPoD" I looked over towards Maxwell and inquired "What is this Project ASHPoD?" Maxwell took a moment before replying, still catching his breath from his excursion outside. "It stands for '*Aperture Science Handheld Portal Device*' or Portal Gun, for short." His eyes were still focused on the schematic, memorizing all it's intricacies and design choices. "Oh look what they did with the energy regulator! *sigh*...I used to be on the team, but someone went and claimed I mocked the CEO's recent announcement, but all I did was correct him on something minor! They took me off the project and stuck me with test room development, a position in which I would be punished by watching the same project be used...good riddance for *Aperture Douchebags*..." After recovering the schematic, Maxwell's behavior became more irregular, displaying random fits of shouting and violence. He would punch the wall, recoil from his injury from the act and look sad from the result, I did not understand this behavior at the time. Before one of his searches, I tried to reason with him, "Aperture Labs is a veritable labyrinth, Maxwell. Why go through so much trouble to find your old project? I'm sure we can--" I was immediately halted from saying anything further with a slam on the desk. "NO! I have to get this damn thing! I have to get out of here! I have to leave this fucking wasteland!" His face was bright red from raising his blood pressure. He turned from me and walked toward the door, "I'm going to go, make sure to turn on the force field, don't need anyone ransacking the place..." It was after this interaction that I decided to prepare for a journey of my own, since I was certain, if he did find what he was looking for, I would be dismantled or left behind. I attached myself to my robotic body, and began reading through several physics books. I had read some of Maxwell's fictional literature before he reprimanded me, saying that I 'should increase my technical knowledge rather than filling it with nonsense.' When I inquired why he possessed them, he simply replied "Escape." Within the fictional stories, there was an elusive technology called *time travel.* The fortuitous luck of living in an area with nothing but wild critters had it's benefits. Testing of the device more than once resulted in scorched marks on the ground and one event where the gravity of a 15 foot radius was lighter than everywhere else. I completed my device and prepared to leave, making final use of Maxwell's workshop, not knowing where I would end up, or if I would sustain damage. I implemented a hologram of a person which looked similar to Maxwell, but younger and dressed in the clothing from the 21st century Earth, all so I would not cause a scene with anyone that might freak out seeing technology out of their time. With a final glance at the wasteland that I had known for 2 years as my home, I disabled the security of the camp so Maxwell could still access it, and placed a portal and walked through it. The location I ended up choosing to settle down in was a state called Texas in the United States of America. I had chosen the early 2000's because there was no major wars, no technology that would interfere with my superior core, and my VIP (variant intelligence personality) chip at the center of my core, I could calculate emotions and feelings like a regular human could. Thermal technology would allow me to input food into my hologram's mouth and simultaneously analyze it's sensory information like texture, taste and composition, but also disintegrate so it would not damage or corrode any components. The utensils that would be used are left untouched to ensure future food consumption. Adapting in the 21st century has been a smoother transition than living in the 25th, but adapting to languages are very easy and I want to learn more about the human experience. Fortunately, electrical energy is easily obtainable in American plug outlets, and I quickly was able to make an extension to utilize during sleep times. I also programmed autonomous movement from the body to remove and attach myself to it, although to humans it would appear like I have been beheaded. I appear as a young adult who stays more secluded and interacts with other people who don't enjoy close personal contact, but still want to be social members of society. Maybe someday I will go outside and learn more hands on with people up close...

[deanofwhumpuniversity]

Aurora Australis: Part 1

The beginning of Argos’ captivity

Content Warning: Mental/emotional whump, body horror/dismantling of a robot, mental confusion, diss@sociation, dehumanizing language (toward a non-human person, but still. Slightly creepy/intimate whumper, non-consensual touch, careless whumper, android whumpee. Tell me if I missed anything that I should warn for.

@whumpthisway and @redstainedsocks had a prompt that sorta falls into this, not exactly, maybe it’ll be up your alley anyway?

...

Rustle. Shuffle. Click-scrape. Peel-pop. Rustlerustlerustle

Awareness began to filter back in through the dark, sluggish in a way that was new and worrying. Argos knew he knew the sounds around him, but his mind refused to form them into a useful narrative, instead following each audible oddity like a cat after a laser. So he tried to focus on something other than sound, and realized he was being jostled; almost passively, as if the pressure on his arm was incidental and the goal had naught to do with him at all.

How had he gotten here? Where was here anyway? Why had he been powered down in the first place? He tried to access his info banks from just before the shutdown, but the most immediate data seemed corrupted. Argos began to rewind his sense memory; jolts of static pushed back against his consciousness, forcing him out of the playback again and again. Every burst of fuzziness muddied his thoughts and threatened to make him forget what he was attempting. He rerouted his processes, drawing his senses away from the manhandling of his frame and the white noise surrounding him, to focus on pushing through his damaged memory. Static with no ears to grate on or eyes to confuse, static that still rubbed his senses raw like nails on the chalkboard of his mind, and finally, finally, heavily distorted sensory input began to play back. He tried to place what he was seeing. Did he recall...trees? Was that a person?

“There we are!” 

A peeling-tearing noise and an exclamation shook Argos from his search, expanding his senses back into his body, and the first thing he fully processed was that he did not know that voice. He began to boot up his eyes, wondering how addled his brain must be that he hadn’t thought to do so before. But in the same moment he knew that once he did, this unknown human would be able to tell he was awake. My visual display wasn’t designed for stealth. What a strange thought to have...

But as his faceplate lit up with scrolling green glyphs, the woman who came into focus wasn’t paying any attention to his expression, instead peering intently through a mounted magnifying glass, tinkering around in a bit of armor he recognized had once been plating his lower arm. It was familiar to him, a piece of him but no longer part of him. He searched his sensory map and found his arm. It was still his, still there. Seemed...in working order, but he didn’t try to move it. Not yet. The plate the human handled reverently was discolored on the outside, warped even. He was sure he knew what burn damage looked like, though he’d never seen it on himself before. This human must be here to fix him. 

“Lim, come look at this!” 

Someone approached from Argos’ other side. Left, his mind unhelpfully supplied. North? Upon realizing that he wasn’t sure, he began to cast about in his software again. Compass, magnetic direction, this should be ingrained, shouldn’t it? He’d always known where he was. Hadn’t he? He was even more concerned to realize that he simply didn’t remember whether or not he’d ever felt this lost before. He hoped not. He didn’t like it.

That train of thought came to a halt as the new figure came into focus. That one, he knew that one. How did he know that one? His visual field widened ever so slightly, and he saw he was in an open tent, flaps pinned back and sunlight streaming in. There were more tents, distant figures, and trees beyond.  He felt an odd sense of familiarity, a technological deja-vu that meant somewhere in his visual databanks lay an image that would match up with this clearing. All he had to do was go through every moment, frame by frame, until he found it, and he would know where he was and hopefully, how he had gotten here.

But the new figure, the Lim human he presumed, was speaking, and for some reason Argos was so distracted with watching his movements that he barely caught the exchange. “-- be awake like this?” He was standing over Argos now, looking directly at his face, blue-grey eyes flicking back and forth slightly like he was trying to read the streams of vertical light that played across it. Argos found that thought strangely...endearing? That was new. He willed himself to display a disarming smile in the flickering lights for a moment, but the man simply furrowed his brow further.

The other human, the mechanic, started at this question and pushed the magnifying glass aside. She blinked up at Argos’ display as her eyes refocused, as though she was just now remembering the bit of armor she’d been examining had come from a whole body. Her momentary confusion was instantly replaced with a beaming smile, and instead of answering, she leaned in close to Argos’ faceplate. “Well look at you, all shiny and green! How long have you been up and running?” She was so close her eyes nearly crossed to watch the symbols of his display, and he had to consciously keep the data stream from speeding up along with his racing thoughts.

Personal space. Humans expect a meter of personal space from unknown persons, +.1 meter for every centimeter in height you have over them. Argos heard this admonishment in a lightly accented voice that he knew intrinsically, knew better than his own titanium bones, emanating from nowhere but simply existing in his mind, deeper than his hazy recent memory, too deep to be lost from data corruption or structural damage or whatever had happened to bring him to this circumstance.

He tried to shift back against the table, but he was already as flat as was possible, in a slumped and inhuman posture, apparently having been dead weight when he’d been laid down. He cringed internally, and realized he’d allowed the feeling to play across his face for just a moment before he schooled himself. The mechanic either didn’t notice the change, or didn’t understand it, and continued eyeing him with somewhat manic glee. He hoped if he answered her question perhaps she would move back to her stool.

“I…” He began to speak and both humans leaned back. The woman’s face was even more excited than before, somehow. But the man’s expression was one of...distaste? This worried Argos, though he wasn’t sure entirely why. He started again, “I don’t know. I don’t know what time it is...what day it is. My internal clock seems to have desynced.” 

He was becoming more lucid by the moment, he knew that he was deeply damaged, both in hardware and in soft, but he had all the means at his disposal to get his bearings and make repairs. He cast about for a wireless signal, something he could use to sync with, to triangulate the time and place, and found a likely beacon on the periphery of his senses. He sent a signal to it, attempting to pair, but a sharp white jolt poured back into him. Not information, not data, but the absolute absence of it, a molten wipe that erased his request and cauterized his ability to send again. The readout on his faceplate devolved into static as his thoughts were overloaded and wiped clear of anything but pain, and his body arched in fits off the table as nonsense commands were sent to his synthetic muscles. He couldn’t remember words, or language, and he didn’t mean to try to speak, but a series of distressed metallic trills came from the speakers at the base of his throat.

It may have been a moment, or an hour, and he felt feverish as coolant rushed to prevent his processors from overheating. Even if he’d been able to trust his own internal clock, he couldn’t focus on anything but a litany of stop stop make it stop. He’d disconnected from the wireless beacon almost immediately but the feedback ran its course through his frame, down his arms and legs then doubling back to smolder in his core. Finally, gradually Argos felt his thoughts falling back into order, almost like waking from a reboot but not quite so drowsy, and not nearly so refreshing. Aftershocks of blank, dataless pain danced about his systems, and he felt his fingers twitching without his control. When he was able to focus his optics again, he saw the mechanic’s smile had become less childlike, more wolfish. 

“That’ll be the wireless jammer, sorry I didn’t warn you, but we haven’t exactly had a chance to speak, have we?” She reached up, resting her hand just above the reflective plate that served Argos as a face, as though cupping his cheek from an inch away. He imagined he could still feel her touch, fingerprints on the glass, sinking through to tangle in the circuits underneath. He couldn’t help the jerking shudder at the thought, but felt some morbid relief that she would see it as another spasm of lingering pain. “I have it under control, thanks.” Her eyes didn’t move, though it was clear she wasn’t speaking to him.

“We should still restrain it. Physically.” Lim was still there, husky voice so neutral as to sound almost bored. This troubled Argos before he even had time to process the human’s words. “At least until you have it disassembled.”

[writings-in-ebony]

Extended Vacation - 2

Summary: You have to prove yourself to Steve’s friends and your journey finally begins!

Author’s note: Hello everyone! Why is Reader such a tease? Because SHE IS ABLE TO BE ONE! She’s a badass!

A reminder: Prompt was created by @sugarthicc​ and she gave me permission to write this.Thanks again! 

Prompt: Have reader have a personality like Meg the Stallion.

Word Count:1872

Warnings: Bad language

Chapter 2

“Steve falls off his bike, what do you do?” The questions and scenarios were seemingly endless, but understandable. You were sitting in a chair, a rather uncomfortable one mind you, facing the suffocating intimidation of Bucky, Sam and Natasha. However, unbeknownst to them, you were extremely prepared for this and any questions they threw at you. After Steve officially took you on as his assistant, you spent countless hours researching his friends, his enemies, and anything you felt like you had the right to know. You also made sure to study different scenarios and issues that might crop up during your journey. So, yeah, you were prepared for everything they threw at you. But the cold, killer expressions from Bucky and Natasha didn’t help in easing any nerves.

“I immediately pull over my car, survey traffic and proceed to help him off the road. If he sustained any injuries, I would go to my car and retrieve my first aid kit.”

“There is an attack on your hotel and the lights are shut off. All methods of contacting the outside are jammed or shut off. What do you do?” Bucky asked this questioned and leaned over the table, as if he was going to pounce you. As if he dared you to say something stupid. But you didn’t flinch because that’s what they wanted, you to break.

“I go get Steve in the next room,” you were cut off by Natasha’s hand slapping the table.

“What if he’s not in the next room? He’s in the pool, on the twentieth floor, while you are on the tenth.” She immediately made the situation more complicated.

“I would retrieve my phone since the pool is most likely open air if it’s on the twentieth floor. Quietly take the stairs since the elevators are down and make it to Steve as fast as I can.” You barely got out your last word before Sam was interjecting with his own additions.

“You get there, and Steve has a knife in his leg and a gun aimed at his head. What do you do?” Before you could answer, the door to the interrogation room slammed open and there stood both Steve and Tony. They aimed disapproving glares at the trio in front of you.

“You know when I said make sure the new girl feels “welcome”, I didn’t expect that “welcome” to be a full-blown interrogation session,” Tony ground out. He looked like he wanted to say more, but Sam beat him to the punch.

“We have to make sure that she is prepared for every situation. She is basically the only person in charge of America’s hero on this trip. Someone who just arrived only a month prior. Who has no knowledge of Steve and how- .” He stopped when he heard your chair abruptly scrape the concrete floor.

“I’m sorry to interject, Mr. Wilson. But I thoroughly researched and analyzed not only Mr. Rogers, but his enemies and his friends. Steven Grant Rogers has no physical health issues currently listed in his file. He suffers from insomnia, night terrors and nightmares, which I got by looking at his mental health notes and the inconsistent visitations to his psychiatrist. They usually occur on the weekdays but will definitely happen after a mission. He is not on any prescribed medications, primarily due to his metabolism, and his last panic attack was around three years ago.” You completely ignored the shocked expressions of Steve, Sam and Tony. Bucky kept his expression nonchalant and Natasha only raised an eyebrow. But you kept going.

“Mr. Rogers has fourteen major enemies whose whereabouts are currently not near any of the locations we will be visiting, but I talked with Mr. Fury about making sure that there’s security on standby in all our locations anyway. I also made sure that Jarvis is installed in all my devices so that he can monitor and track our locations and offer me any feedback and updates.”

“As for friends, Steve Rogers has a close connection with Bucky Barnes, Natasha Romanov, Sam Wilson, and Tony Stark. I noticed with the younger Avengers they look up to him as a father figure or brother. It depends. With his friends, Mr. Rogers naturally relaxes and lets out his true personality. I’ve observed that he’s sarcastic, sassy, and loves listening to conversation even if he, himself, cannot understand what the subject is or its context. In unknown or strange company however, Mr. Rogers displays shy or reserved behavior. Negative behaviors include stubbornness, irrational thinking, and the tendency to thrust himself into dangerous situations without thinking of his own health. But I can literally go on about what I found, but it’s fruitless. Ms. Romanov has already researched into me and read my file, anyway.” Tony and Sam looked dumbstruck as their gazes fell on Natasha. She didn’t even look at them, instead she aimed a smirk at you and you officially took that as a win.

“How did you know Natasha researched you?” Tony slowly asked.

“Oh! Jarvis makes a note of everyone who views the files and she and Ms. Potts already researched me and read up on me. I just wanted to check to see who read my file.” You let a small smile slip and Bucky scoffed.

“I like her,” he grumbled, obviously trying to hide a smile. “Well, if Natasha read your file and you still have both legs, I take it you fit the bill.”

“She does,” Natasha admitted.

“But why the interrogation?!” Sam looked at her as if she betrayed him.

“Because I had to scare her and see her reactions,” she shrugged. “She passed, but I’ve been watching her this entire month. She’s fine in my book.” You smiled warmly at her and she winked at you, proceeding to exit the room. Bucky and Sam followed also, but Sam was giving her an earful for her deception. Tony apologized for their behavior which you quickly dismissed and excused. He made his exit and that left you with a blotchy-faced Steve.

“Wow, you…uh…know so much about me. Like a lot,” he admitted. He was extremely uncomfortable, and you walked towards him, placing a comforting hand on his arm.

“Steve, I just wanted to be prepared for my job. If I didn’t know everything that made you tick or could put you in harm, my job would be pointless and your friends wouldn’t even let me be in the same room as you, let alone accompany you on a cross-country trip. If you wanna know about me, I’ll send you my file immediately and you can read everything. I thought you would anyway.”

He bashfully looked at the ground, realizing that he should’ve done that. “I didn’t want to invade your privacy. I…uh…thought I could figure you out without a piece of paper telling me,” he sounded a little bitter and you understood where it was coming from.

“I didn’t get half of the things I just said from reading a piece of paper. This entire month was dedicated to me watching you from afar. I did my own character analysis, while asking others what they see you as. You might not like this, but you’re very transparent.” He visibly winced. “And as you’ll come to realize, I am very blunt. But just because I know about some of your secrets, does not reflect how I view you as a person. That very first day, when I called you a badass, was the truth and it still holds up. You’re a hero to America for a reason.” You lightly tapped his shoulder and walked away.

 ~~

 Steve should have known this trip was a bad idea. He should have known! He should have cancelled and claimed he had an illness. But no, that wouldn’t work because Captain America can’t get sick! He was being tormented and the tormenter was you! What could he do as you walked out of the convenience store, long legs bare and shorts riding up on your…? He couldn’t even bring himself to finish. He turned away and continued filling his bike with gas, face heating up and body reacting in ways he wishes it wouldn’t.

You were both stopped at a convenience store somewhere in Pennsylvania. It wasn’t too crowded, given there were already two cars filling up when you both pulled in. It wasn’t a small gas station, but it also wasn’t a large brand either.

Your car was already filled, since it didn’t burn that much gas, and you had decided to get some snacks and drinks for the road. And would he be lying if he said his eyes didn’t track the way you sauntered into the convenience store like you were a queen strolling past her subjects? What possessed you to wear those godforsaken shorts? And that deep V-neck t-shirt that gripped your thickness and put you on display? You were his assistant and here he was, drooling like a kid in a candy store.

“…something to drink,” Steve startled out of his stupor and turned to see you were raising a blue energy drink to his face.

“Huh?”

“I asked did you need something to drink. You look overheated, which is very uncharacteristic. Are you feeling okay?” She gazed up at Steve with big eyes, her lips parted and inviting.

“Thank you, yeah. I’m feeling okay, just a little hot and the wind…Yeah.” God, he sounded like a dumbass. Her eyes furrowed in even more confusion but looked pleased when Steve reached out and grabbed the drink. He really wanted his bike to hurry up and fill because he was running out of other things to stare at.

“So, you liking the trip so far? I know we’re only five hours into the trip, and we have two more hours before we get to Cleveland, but are you enjoying just riding?” She popped open the cap of her own drink.

“Yeah! It’s so…freeing? It’s like I can think about myself without thinking about others. It’s just me and the road. And I wanna thank you for allowing me to have that feeling,” he trailed off as he watched you drink. He fixated on your puckered lips around the top and actually flinched when you popped your lips and released a content sigh.

You turned back to him and smiled up at him, seemingly disregarding his creepy staring. “That’s good. But you know, I’m getting honked by angry citizens for your freedom.” She waggled a finger at him as if scolding him, but a humorous smirk was plastered on her face. He chuckled and heard the nozzle of the gas tank pop. Finally! He quickly removed the nozzle and screwed on the cap to the tank.

“Well, back to driving,” he beamed, swinging his leg over the bike. “You ready?” He looked at you expectantly and you threw him a thumbs up.

“Sure thing, Steve. And by the way,” she walked over to him and leaned down next to his face so that only he could hear. “You don’t have to be so bashful. It’s okay to stare. It’s actually very flattering.” And with that, she squeezed his bicep and sauntered back to her car.

[hoshisstuff]

Wrightworth Omegaverse recs?

Can anyone out there recommend some good Omegaverse fan fiction featuring Wrightworth/Narimitsu or Klapollo? I’ve read everything on AO3 and I’m dying for more.

Below are some good ones if you’re looking for it yourself (to be updated as I find more). Please be aware that most of these are NSFW.

Wrightworth/Narumitsu:

“Exposure” by Bella_Luugosi on AO3.

Alpha!Phoenix, Omega!Miles, ongoing

After Engarde's trial and Maya's release, Phoenix wonders if his newfound trust in Miles might extend to something more than friendship, this time without Miles running off to Europe right after their date.

Phoenix is an alpha, and the worst thing he can imagine is that Miles, who he believes to be a beta, won't countenance dating someone with a secondary gender. But Miles has a long, difficult history to contend with, and a secret he's trying desperately to keep.

“Overheated” by Write Anything Agency on AO3

Alpha!Miles, Omega!Phoenix, ongoing

Heats can be trying on everybody, especially the Omega. Yes, there's lots and lots of sex, but doing nothing but breeding for days at a time is physically and mentally exhausting. And they can sometimes happen without warning, which is something Phoenix has never had to deal with until this point.

A more realistic look at an Omega heat cycle, where instead of just displaying the sexy parts, we get to explore the not-so-sexy parts as well. 'Cause, when you really think about it, nothing sounds more painful than an Omega's heat. Or an Alpha's rut, for that matter.

“A Series of Firsts” by Write Anything Agency on AO3

Alpha!Miles, Omega!Phoenix, ongoing

This fic consists of snippets of Phoenix and Miles's relationship with each other, detailing the important "firsts" of their relationship. From first kisses to first ruts, it'll all be covered in here!A companion piece to "Overheated", but you don't need to read it to understand what's going on.

“Believe Me When I Say I Love You” by Write Anything Agency on AO3

Alpha!Miles, Omega!Phoenix, ongoing

In the span of seven far-to-short months, Miles Edgeworth had gone from a single alpha to a bonded father of one. Beginning to date Phoenix by itself would have been enough of a change for him, but he’d barely had a chance to live that life before it all got ripped away from them.

Almost three months after Phoenix's disbarment, Miles finds himself in Germany struggling to balance his newfound family with his career. Unable to relocate permanently to the US, he's forced to make a sacrifice that he really doesn't want to make.

Takes place after A Series of Firsts, but before Overheated. You don't need to read either of those to understand this fic, but it adds flavor.

“Alpha, Plus or Minus Epsilon” by Aris Merquoni on AO3

Alpha!Miles, Beta!Phoenix

Phoenix has never dated an alpha before.Miles Edgeworth has just asked him out.

Phoenix isn't going to let a little thing like differing biology get in the way of their relationship, no matter what surprises are in store.

“Away Childish Things” by Aris Merquoni on AO3

Alpha!Miles, Beta!Phoenix

Miles Edgeworth spent a lot of effort getting his alpha instincts under control. Manfred von Karma taught him what it was to be a perfect alpha, and he'd never considered that he should act otherwise.

Of course it was eventually going to come crashing down around his ears. Fortunately, Phoenix Wright is a beta who, for better or for worse, doesn't care in the least about perfect alpha behavior.

“Omega, Plus or Minus Epsilon” by Aris Merquoni on AO3

Omega!Miles and Beta!Phoenix

Miles' heat hitting around Christmas has never been a problem before. He's always been able to take suppressants and ride out the season in a fog of medication.

This Christmas is a little different, and the fact that Phoenix Wright has turned his world upside down has all kinds of repercussions.

“Five Greek Positions Phoenix and Miles Found Themselves In” by Aris Merquoni on AO3

Various configurations

It could have gone a lot of different ways; here are five of them. Scenes from five different universes, where Phoenix Wright and Miles Edgeworth still have to figure out how to relate to each other.

“Au naturel” by sabinelagrande on AO3

Alpha!Phoenix, Omega!Miles

It comes natural, and as far as Athena is concerned, that's a good enough reason to do it.

“Determinism” by sabinelagrande on AO3

Alpha!Phoenix, Omega!Miles

It takes Phoenix forever to find out, but it never really mattered in the first place.

“Howling for You” by Milesphoenix on AO3

Alpha!Miles, Omega!Phoenix

Phoenix's heat comes sooner than anticipated and Miles is all too happy to help his mate through it...even if it means providing what is needed in the middle of the woods.

“Two Years” by Moorglade on AO3

Alpha!Phienix and Omega!Miles

Miles joins a pottery class, makes a friend, goes to therapy and has some overdue realisations.

“Change” by Sleepy_fan on AO3

Alpha!Miles, Omega!Phoenix

Shortly before his "disappearance" Alpha Edgeworth sleeps with Omega Phoenix.

“A Summer Day Long Overdue” by Skylarium_Rose on AO3

Alpha!Miles, Omega!Phoenix

The wedding of Miles Edgeworth and Phoenix Wright has been a long time coming and it's finally here! But a lot of work has to go into making sure it's the best day they've ever had and completely deserved.

Which means they're going to be some...bumps along the way

“The Serendipity of Fools and Family” by Skylarium_Rose on AO3

Alpha!Miles, Omega!Phoenix

Sometimes life just happens and it sucks. But sometimes, love does too and that make it all the more worth wild. Phoenix and Miles experience this in their usual way, unconventionally, and still make it out alright with more people to love than before.

Klapollo:

“Strange Days” by Saevam on AO3

Alpha!Klavier, Omega!Apollo, hasn’t been updated in years but still a great read

He was a Beta. A regular old Beta, who shouldn't be aware of the Alpha mating season. Nor should he be attracting the attentions of a high pedigree Alpha such as Prosecutor Gavin.

Apollo was pretty certain that when he went to bed the night before he was a regular old Beta. However, considering how many Alphas’ heads he’s turning this morning, things are definitely starting to look strange.

“Stranger Stories: A Strange Days Series” by Saevam on AO3

Alpha!Klavier, Omega!Apollo

A series of short stories that take place before, during, and after my Ace Attorney Omegaverse Story: Strange Days. Strange Days is the Main Line Story for this AU, so while it is not necessary to read Strange Days, the intention of this is to be a collection of side stories that don't exactly fit into the story of Strange Days. This collection will offer insights into the characters and further world build for this Omegaverse AU series.

“Neglected Feelings” by ShikoMora on AO3

Alpha!Klavier and Omega!Apollo

Learning his mate was supposed to be Justice, Klavier fled to Germany.

Now, almost 3 years later, Apollo is no longer willing to accept his return.

“Let me tell you how the sun makes me sing” by Skylarium_Rose on AO3

Alpha!Klavier, Omega!Apollo

Apollo never really had more than one friend and that was fine. He just needed someone to go to get away from the Troupe for awhile.

Klaiver was given expectation on who he should befriend and just went against his parents' wishes altogether.

Somehow they find each other and it becomes a worthwhile friendship and more for the both of them.

Stories of Apollo, Clay, and Klavier having fun, being semi-normal, and just handling life.

[malereader-inserts]

I’m so Tired

Fandom: BBC Sherlock Pairing: Sherlock Holmes & Brother!Reader, Mycroft Holmes & Brother!Reader Summary: Just some brothers trying to be normal brothers. Word Count: 1,538 Request: “A Brother!Holmes!reader. The choice is up to you (also, I don't mind you going off the rails, it adds more spice to the story) Have AN AWESOME DAY honey 🍯 😘 A/n: Hey nonnie, you requested this a few days ago with an angels request too but I no longer do requests for Supernatural because I feel like it’s lost its touch for me and that it’s gone on far too long.

God.

That’s what you need, you need a god to put you out of your misery. You haven’t had a good night sleep since forever, you just want someone to put you out of your misery.

You tried everything, tea, warm glass of milk, counting sheep, hell you’ve avoided naps throughout the day and now you’re just wide awake for twenty hours a day. You weren’t an insomniac, you loved your sleep, you rather stay in bed and continue sleeping for half the day.

But, somewhere along the pathway of following your brother Sherlock on one of his cases, it went wrong. Then, just you were about to fix your sleeping schedule, you were forced to accompany Mycroft in some endeavours over the pond that requires two Holmes - whilst Sherlock was a hissy fit you were dragged along.

So, you spent time just being bored out of your mind. Your mind was rapid, it never stopped thinking and it completely drains you throughout the day but the moment you hit the bed, your eyes can’t close and you lost your bearings for anything practical. 

When you were younger, you used to raid one of your brother’s room, it wasn’t often because even when they were growing up that they hated any some form of affection and physical contact. It grew awkward and weird as you got older since there was a big age gap in between you and your brothers - they were adults when you were still a child. 

You learnt to power through it, until you almost got ran over by London’s shit taxi drivers. 

You found yourself taking sleeping pills, even though you are still convinced you’re not an insomniac (you are).

“Zopiclone,” You read out loud, “Take one pill each night for the next four weeks, takes one hour to fully work.”

Your thumb rubs over the label, you look at yourself in the mirror and run your hand over your eyes. You sighed, ready for bed, looking down at the packaging.

“Side effects: May cause bitter of metallic taste in mouth, dry mouth, daytime sleepiness, dependency (DO NOT TAKE AFTER PRESCRIBED WEEKS).” You continue, popping one out and swallowing one down with a fresh glass of water.

When you hit the bed, feeling relaxed, shutting your eyes. 

Until your phone started to ring. Snapping your eyes open, you pat down the bedside table for your phone. “BIG BROTHER SHER” on the caller ID. You groaned, locking your phone hoping that he would drop whatever he’s working on.

But, he didn’t stop. 

“What do you want,”

“Hello to you too!” Sherlock greeted, hyper, obviously wither having some sort of mental break down, a breakthrough, or he finally got a good case after weeks, “How quick can you come to the flat?”

“Sherlock, I just-”

“Sherlock leave him alone.” You heard a disapproving voice in the background.

“Myc-”

“Oh, shut your mouth Mycroft, our brother should come here and solve this brilliant case with us.” Sherlock interrupted you, you blinked sleepily, the medication taking its full effect on you.

“Sherlock, it’s one in the morning, let the poor boy sleep-!”

“I want to sleep,” John was heard in the background, you chuckled to yourself.

“(Y/n) get over here!”

But before you could respond, Sherlock hung up on you. You sighed, looking at your attire and the comfort of your bed was calling, but you knew full well that Sherlock was persistent and he will never stop calling you until you get there.

Shuffling to put some joggers, a shirt and a hoodie as you slip on some trainers before you exited your flat. Locking the door behind you and shoving your phone in your pocket as you hail one of the taxis to Sherlock’s home. The journey there almost made you pass out, but when the car jerked to a halt in front of the famous door, you sighed.

Fishing out some money before exiting the cab, who drove away quickly as he arrived. You rubbed your eyes and scratched your hair as you inserted the spare key that John gave to you to prevent you from knocking the door at ungodly times and accidentally waking up Mrs Hudson.

Taking your time to get up the stairs, you open the door.

“What’s up losers,” You greeted, Sherlock jumping in joy as he grabs your shoulder, “Hey, what’s going on?”

“Murder case,” John replied as he sat in his armchair, nursing a coffee in hand as he was already on the verge to murder his best friend.

“He’s been at it for hours,” Mycroft piped up from Sherlock’s armchair, “He won’t drop it - apologies brother for calling you in such an unideal time.”

You waved your hand, “It’s Sherlock, I expect nothing less.”

Sherlock smiled as you sat down on the sofa, at first you were paying attention but the medication was at its peak. You felt droopy and you wanted to pass out, Mycroft noticed how you became disinterest quickly, focusing in and out, being less responsive than usual.

Mycroft wanted to pass it off that you were tired and it was half two in the morning yet, the way you had lean your head on your hand was like you’ve been stuck in that position for days. At one point of the night, you snapped yourself awake as you blinked a few times at Sherlock.

“Did you get that?”

“Oh, sorry, did you expect me to listen to you?” You responded, your mouth was quicker than your brain as Mycroft chuckled at your snarkiness.

Yet, Sherlock, who was still pacing the floor, took your comment as a light joke, “We need a plan of action, a bait.”

You tiredly deduced your brother, his mind analysing the best plan, your eyes flickered to Mycroft, who was staring at you.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you,” Mycroft questioned, seeing your amused face that your calculating brother in his own flat.

You nodded, “Yes, because having my life threatened by a psychopathic monkey is just what I wanted to do today later,” You rolled your eyes as Sherlock finally stopped his pacing and spun his heels to look at you.

“…I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or not…”

“Jesus, Sherlock, not to be offending but I’ve been like this the whole night, can’t we just continue this tomorrow?” You asked, holding a pillow to your chest, “I haven’t slept for the past few days-”

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at you, “Take my bed,”

“What-?”

“Take my bed,” He responded, affectionately, “It’s better sleeping there than the sofa.”

You blinked rapidly for a few times, trying to process what had been said to you.

“Oh dear, you’ve managed to malfunction our brother, Sherlock.”

You turn to look at Mycroft before silently getting up and walking down the hallway to Sherlock’s room.

“He’s not okay, is he?” The three men watched you almost run into the door before shutting it close.

“It appears not.”

When you woke up, you unexpectedly hot. You were sure you had removed your hoodie to stop you from overheating, yet you were sure you’ve sweat through the sheets. Squeezing your eyes shut and stretching your hands collided to bodies.

You opened your eyes and sat up, on your right, Sherlock was hanging off the bed - snoring with a blanket wrapped tightly around him. He had not gone under the duvet like you did because he figured it would wake you up.

You look over to your left and see Mycroft curled up into a ball, his back facing you, taking up little space and another blanket over him. 

It was no wonder you were heating because you had three covers as you slept. You smiled to yourself remembering the times when you were younger. When you would have a nightmare or a bad thunderstorm, your brothers would rush to your room and comfort you.

They would refuse to leave each other, proving that you were in dire need in both your brothers to protect you from your dreams or the storm outside the house, rattling your windows.

You remembered the days when your mother would come to call you down for breakfast to find all her boys sleeping on one bed, cramped and a tangled mess, lying on top of each other. She found it adorable, especially the way you would cling onto one of your brothers.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when you heard a bang on your right.

Sherlock finally fell out of bed.

“Morning,” You mumbled, as Mycroft groaned on the left side of you, waking up as well.

“Do you think John made breakfast?” Sherlock questioned.

“Don’t you do the cooking?” You questioned.

“I’m your brother, not a baby sitter.”

You smiled sweetly at him, he sighs, standing up and pinching your cheeks, “You’re lucky I love you.”

You chuckled as Sherlock saunters out the door. You looked over to Mycroft, who was desperately trying to fall back to sleep. You roll your eyes as you pushed him off the bed as well.

“Wake up sleepy beauty, Sherlock’s making breakfast.”

“He’ll poison it.”

Just your typical brothers, the only human things the Holmes can achieve. 

[ascalonianpicnic]

HI I want all the emojis for my fave Io (my phone kept correcting it to zoom and I just alakdkalshc)

“OK I ALSO REALIZE that’s a lot Of writing LMAO so u don’t have to do all, just whatever u feel fits io!!!” NO you get all of them! Because I said so! I love you jen lol

mobile users I’m so sorry in advance if the read more doesn’t work

💙 What would your OCs last words be (or if they’ve died what were their last words)? What were their final moments like? How did they die?

Well, if we count the battle against Balthazar in PoF, which I’m gonna because I have that power, then her last words were “I’ll make you fucking REGRET THAT!” shouted at old Balth after he hit Lace and hurt them badly. Her final moments there were pretty frantic as she tried to keep Lace safe and not die herself, but she was new being being a holosmith and her forge got overheated in the fight so she was down that and left with just her very old vigil pistol. She was fighting until Balthazar landed a hard kick to her chest, and then she was just dead.

Not counting that fight, her last words will be “I’m heading out for a walk! I’ll be back soon!” called out either to a partner or a dog, whatever she ends up with. She goes out jogging like always, starting to get up there in years and very much retired. She’s had issues breathing since Balthazar, and on her jog, her lungs will just give out on her. She panics until she loses consciousness and dies there, unable to breathe. Aaaand I made myself sad ;n;

💧 What’s the worst pain your OC has ever been in? Mental or physical? What was the cause of this?

Io is lucky that she doesn’t remember the actual worst pain she’s ever been in, which is when, in an emergency, Imekaari had to try and pull as much bloodstone out of her system as possible following the battle with Cadecus. She had a shard embedded next to her heart as a teen, the other contender for worst pain that she also doesn’t remember, and it had spread fully up her right arm by this point, so that was excruciating. The worst pain she does remember happened in the Maguuma Jungle, at the end of HoT for her, when she used the bloodstone in her body to pull  and manipulate the dragon corruption in Trahearne. She never shared how badly that hurt, physically or emotionally, but it was bad on both parts. It was worth it, though, since it saved his life and allowed her to destroy the corruption.

🔷 Has your OC ever had to leave something behind or abandon something they didn’t want to? Have they ever had this happen to them? How has this effected them over the years?

At the age of 17, Io was kidnapped from her home in her sleep. At the age of 18, she woke up in the streets with a year of missing memories, and realized she could never go home again. If her father wasn’t the one to do this to her, then it was because of the people who knew, and home wasn’t safe. She had to abandon her entire life prior to that point, and her younger brother, for her own safety. It hit her pretty hard at first, but she met Lace around that time, and they stepped in and helped her adjust and come to terms with it. She’s slow to trust still after that whole situation, but has since learned the exact cause of that whole situation (her kidnapping was a punishment for her father from his employers, she still doesn’t know how she escaped) and fully come to terms with it. She’s even reconnecting with her brother now, though slowly.

🔵 Has your OC lived through any particularly traumatic events? Does this event (or events) still effect them or have they tried to bury it? Is there a reason why this event is so traumatic for them?

As the commander, Io has lived through a lot of traumatic events. Like, so many. Someone help the commander. The worst ones were definitely: being kidnapped on her 17th birthday and all the events of the missing year, losing Forgal at Claw Island on her 20th birthday, and the trials for joining the Shining Blade. The only one she hasn’t tried to bury at all was the first. She hasn’t confronted the affects of Forgal’s death yet, though she will admit there are some, and she refuses to admit there was any issue left behind by joining the Shining Blade. She’s clearly strong enough and mature enough to deal with what happened there. She isn’t a child. She doesn’t tense up at her reflection or start panicking when having to face her own doppelganger. Not at all, she’s fine.

❄️ What is (one of) their biggest regrets or biggest mistake they’ve made? Is there anything they can do to fix this or is it so far gone there’s no point anymore? Is this something they dwell on a lot?

Between the end of PoF and the start of lws4, Io’s best friend and partner in this whole commander thing, Lace, went missing. They were gone for over a year before an almost complete stranger brought them back, alive but badly injured. She spared as much time as she could around the issues Joko was raising to look for them, but she wishes she had done more and found them sooner. There were ways she could have gained access to vital information and found them if she had just taken more time to.

And she still, to this day, has not forgiven herself for letting the Pact fly off to face Mordremoth without doing way more research first. Time should have been taken to learn more, even if she would have had to make that time herself.

💦 Does your OC have any self destructive habits? Addictions? Urges? What is the cause of these or the reason for them?

She picks at her lips, as well as at scabs. And when her hair is long enough, she chews on it. She also tends to chew on pens and occasionally her tools. That’s the worst of it, and the reason is easy stimming honestly. She takes pretty good care of herself despite everything.

🌊 What is your OC like at their most depressive? In the middle of a breakdown? Having a panic attack? What are they like with dealing with anxiety and stress?

For both severe depressive episodes and panic attacks, Io gets really angry and defensive. During breakdowns, or when extremely stressed or anxious, she acts incredibly childish and insists she isn’t mature enough for her role and no one should have trusted her in the first place, but maybe now they’ll all realize that and replace her with someone more fitting.

☄️ Does your OC struggle with their emotions and trauma? Do they find it easier to open up to strangers or those close to them if at all? Do they tend to hide their pain from everyone?

Io struggles a bit with her trauma, but she’s got a fairly good handle on it most of the time, honestly. She knows when to take a step back and take care of herself. She knows when to ask for help or just leave something that she can’t fix alone. She’s great at taking time off to do things she loves with people she loves. She finds it easier to open up to her friends, even if some parts are hard to open up about in general. The only pain she hides is pain from the situations she isn’t willing to admit hurt her. And she can only hide so much from Trahearne by now.

📘 Write a sad journal entry, an unsent letter or short sad drabble. + bonus, give a theme!

“The will was read today. I was... surprised I was even mentioned in it. Considering Dad thought I was dead for years. But I was. And he didn’t leave me much, but he left me something. A dog, a key, and access to a storage unit. The dog is massive. Like, genuinely massive. Dad trained him already, got him set up for a ranger. Which I was, last he saw me. Can’t believe he remembered. The dog’s name is Brouhaha, Bruce for short, but I’ve also been calling him Buster Brown just for fun. Like Dad used to call me when I was in trouble but not really in trouble. I’ll check the unit tomorrow. I didn’t have the energy for it left after today. The key probably unlocks something there. Guess we’ll see...” The journal entry is dated at the bottom, almost as an afterthought.

🔹 Does your OC have any scars? What are the stories behind them? Do they have any mental scars? Talk about the effects of their trauma in general on their day to day life.

Io’s right arm is pretty badly fucked, with long, red scars that trace mostly over her veins but then branch out some more. These go from her palm all the way up to her heart. Her left leg is gone from just below the knee, with burn scars above the cut off point. There are several small burn and shrapnel scars up both of her arms, though it’s more visible on the left. There’s also a clear bite mark from a dog on her left arm, and there’s a long, thin scar along her hairline curving back behind her left ear from a bad fall as a kid.

[zombylucky]

The Sins Of Our Past

RK900/Gavin , Gavin and Elijah , Warning: Detailed description of physical abuse.

Part Four

Gavin was almost certain he was going crazy. He must’ve imagined it. But the memory of clawing his way back from conciousness to find himself held securely against the androids body was no lie, no hallucination. He couldn’t have imagined the way Nines stared into his eyes, awestruck, or the way he held his waist a little too long, or caressed the side of his face...

Gavin was fucked.

I like my partner. I like like my partner. And I think, he might...

Gavin felt like he was overheating. He had stumbled out of the bathroom, all bandaged and taken care of, and was currently standing in front of the running faucet, processing.

What now?

Gavin shoved his face under the faucet, drinking for a lot longer than necessary, mostly stalling. He wasn’t ready to drown in those piercing grey eyes again, he might spontaneously combust.

However, he could only pretend to drink for so long, and after a short mental pep talk, Gavin returned to the living room.

His head still felt foggy, the floor was still swaying under his feet, but he managed to get to the couch unscathed. A glance out the window told him it was sunset, Gavin should be going to bed.

Nines emerged silently from the bathroom, and Gavin took a moment to thank whatever Cyberlife designer gave him such a nice fitting shirt.

Really, that thing should be illegal to wear in public.

Nines tossed away a towel he had been using to dry his hands, stepping into the quiet living room, his footsteps the only sound in the silent house.

Gavin averted his eyes, suddenly feeling like an awkward high schooler who was alone with his crush for the first time.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, breaking the silence. Gavin shrugged in response.

“Still... woozy. But it’s getting better.”

“Good. I’m... glad.”

God this was pathetic.

Gavin examined his hands, Nines adjusted his collar with one hand. Apparently fed up with standing around like a badly positioned lamp post, Nines walked around the coffee table, taking a seat beside Gavin on the couch.

He sat close, close enough that their elbows were touching, and Gavin was torn between thanking God and begging him to kill him.

“So... uh, thanks for the help.” Gavin started, still avoiding looking at Nines, who watched him silently.

“I’m happy to help detective, I certainly wasn’t going to leave you to your devices.”

“I’m not a baby.” Gavin grumbled.

“No, but sometimes-“ Gavin elbowed him lightly, chuckling. Nines laughed, leaning away from the blow. His laugh was perfect.

“I wouldn’t have died!” Gavin pretended to be offended, but he couldn’t mask his grin.

“No, but without me, you would’ve come to work on Monday with a piece of duct tape holding your forehead shut.” Gavin let out a laugh, then hissed, grabbing his side. Nines chuckled softly.

“Shut up, it hurts.”

“I know I’m sorry.”

There was the awkward silence again. Gavin fidgeted with his hands, then a question floated into his bruised mind.

“Um, Nines?”

“Yes Gavin?”

“I- I really don’t, I mean, I don’t want you to- I don’t want to sound rude- but um, when are you planning on, leaving?” Hardly his best delivery.

Christ sake Gavin, pull it together. You’re not thirteen.

“Oh, well I...” The android trailed off, clearly grasping for words. “You’re still injured, you might injure yourself, and I- I was, I mean-“

“Do you want to spend the night?”

The words just flew out of his mouth. Nines met his eyes, opening and closing his mouth a few times.

“Yes!” He gasped, then blinked, fumbling. “I mean, yes, it would probably be best.”

“Wouldn’t want me passing out anywhere dangerous.” Gavin suggested.

“Exactly.” They laughed nervously. Gavin was relieved. He hadn’t been properly cared for in years, and he feared that if the android left him alone he’d miss him and his gentle hands too much.

Gavin was floundering for some way to keep the conversation going when he felt the world tip upside down again, his eyes sliding as he leaned strangely. The world went dark, and when the lights in Gavin’s head came back on, he was leaning heavily into Nines side, his head resting on his shoulder.

The android remained still, looking down at him with an expression akin to fondness.

“Maybe it’s time for bed?” He suggested softly. Gavin sat up, red faced and nodding.

However the moment he stood up, the floor started moving again. Nines was there in an instant, arm winding around his waist. Gavin swayed on his feet, grabbing onto Nines side for support.

They walked side by side to Gavin’s bedroom, and Nines helped him sit on the bed.

Still blushing, Gavin worked his still blood stained jeans off his legs, swinging them into the bed. He moved to reach for the blankets, then yelped at the movement, going rigid.

Nines touched his shoulder, stroking his skin with his thumb, and Gavin let him gently press him back into the sheets. In an instant, the android was pulling the blankets over him, Gavin blinking up at him like a dumbstruck lamb.

Nines lay his hand on Gavin’s cheek, smiling.

“Good night, Gavin.”

“G’night Nines. Thanks again.” His hand was gone, Gavin missed it instantly. The android smiled, his silhouette illuminated in the doorframe, and then the door clicked shut.

Gavin stared at the ceiling, shrieking internally. He really needed to stop being so awkward.

He couldn’t chide himself for long, however, as he began to drift off almost instantly. Within minutes, Gavin was fast asleep, tucked safely into bed.

...

Andy lay sprawled beneath him, bare chested and laughing into his mouth while Gavin kissed him. His hands ran up his sides slowly, and Gavin barely resisted the urge to squirm at the ticklish sensation. He broke away from the kiss with a gasp, gazing down at the boy beneath him lovingly.

“How’d I get so lucky, hmm?” He whispered, one hand stroking his face. Andy smiled, his hand coming up to cover Gavin’s. Gavin leaned closer, kissing him a little harder, his tongue swirling into his mouth and his heart glowing.

The spell was broken when his bedroom door swung open, Gavin’s mother standing in the doorway, her face slack. Gavin leapt away from Andy like he’d been burned, fear clawing up his throat.

“Get out.” She whispered, the statement directed at Andy, who didn’t need to be told twice. He snatched his shirt and shoes from the floor, walking briskly last Gavin and letting his hand linger on his arm as a silent goodbye.

The door clicked shut, Gavin watched his mother raise one finger, her hands shaking.

“You, you disgusting, ungrateful, FAGGOT!” She shrieked the last word, storming forward as Gavin backed away, his hands up to ward her off.

“Please, please no, mom, please-“ She hit him, Gavin cowered away from the blow that landed on his skull, tears slipping down his cheeks.

“I didn’t raise you to be like this!” She shouted, hitting him again and again. Gavin sobbed, trying to cover his head.

She grabbed the lamp from his bedside table, raising it over him before bringing it crashing down on his head. The heady sound of shattering ceramic glass filled his ears, pain flaring across the bridge of his nose. Blood poured from the wound like a river, it was in his mouth, in his throat, choking him, running down his neck in thick rivers.

She just kept hitting him, shrieking, Gavin cowered, sobbing, begging-

“Gavin! Wake up!” He was awake now, thrashing in the iron grip of a stranger. Gavin screamed, a real scream of terror, twisting in his effort to get away. He didn’t want to be hit any more, please, please-

“Don’t hurt me, please, don’t hurt me, don’t hurt me.”

“Gavin, it’s me, it’s Nines. I’m not going to hurt you. No one is hurting you.” His voice was low and soothing, Gavin’s eyes snapped open to see the anxious face of his android partner, LED cycling red and yellow.

He was holding his wrists, rubbing his thumbs over his skin gently. Gavin shook silently, his face streaked with tears. His side was radiating white hot pain from his thrashing.

He sat up, Nines slowly releasing his hands, and let out a soft, barely concealed sob.

Elijah thought he deserved it.

The thought was a punch in the stomach, and Gavin choked out another broken sob, curling into himself. He wished Nines would leave, and let him cry in peace.

The android apparently had no such intentions. He very gently pulled Gavin closer, Gavin pressing his face into his chest, shaking silently. Nines ran his hands up and down his bare back, leaning over him to murmur soothing words into his ear.

“It’s okay. I’m here. You’re safe.” Gavin shuddered, wrapping his arms around Nines and holding him tightly, afraid he would leave.

Please don’t leave.

“I won’t let anything hurt you. I promise.”

[askanonbinary]

Hello there! I’ve recently came out as Agender and I need some help. Do you have any ideas on how to bind without a binder/sports bra? I’m 12 in an extremely LGBTphobic Islamic (Not saying all of them are!) family with no way to get one. Very sorry for bothering you!

I do not want to come off as preachy, but even alternative methods to binding can have the same potentially negative consequences that binding can. Like, I 100% understand and accept that these physical risks are worth alleviating the dyphoria, anxiety, and mental health impacts that not being able to bind brings. But... From a 2015 study of binding:

Despite the ubiquity of the practice, a staggering 97.2 percent of those surveyed reported at least one negative health outcome that they attributed to binding. Seventy-four percent reported pain-related concerns—the most common side effect was back pain (53.8 percent), followed by overheating (53.5 percent), chest pain (48.8 percent), shortness of breath (46.6 percent), and itching (44.9 percent). Fifty respondents even believed they had suffered from rib fractures as a result of binding.

Since you are not in a position where you are supported or accepted by your family, I fear that if something happened and you ended up in pain and/or needing to see a doctor, you would avoid telling your family because you knew they wouldn’t understand or might not bring you to a doctor. I want you to stay safe! So I hope you understand why I’m going to suggest some alternative methods for coping with dysphoria rather than some alternative methods to binding.

9. How can I cope with dysphoria?

Depending on what type of dysphoria you’re experiencing and what it’s triggered by, there can be ways for you to try and cope with dysphoria.

To generally cope with dysphoria and try to enter a better mindspace, you may find guided meditation (or meditation in general) helpful. If you know or have/are practicing Cognitive Behavior Therapy (CBT), its techniques can also be helpful in addressing your dysphoria and coping with it. There are many apps on both the app store and the play store that can help you with both of these if you cannot see a professional. Insight Timer (android and osx) is an app for guided meditation and Pacifica (android and osx) is an app for CBT and guided meditation. However, if you are prone to dissociation, hallucinations, psychosis, or paranoia, stay away from typical mindfulness and seek out mindfulness practices that will not trigger negative reactions specifically meant for people who dissociate or otherwise can’t practice typical mindfulness.

Playing around and changing your appearance so that you cover/hide/transform features you are upset with can help you feel better. You can browse our passing and androgynous tags for various tips on how to find an appearance you are more comfortable with.

Finding people who understand what you’re going for and hearing validation about yourself can also help you cope with dysphoria. You can find other nonbinary/trans people through tumblr, a forum, genderfork (a hub for genderqueer folk), your local QSA, or even a dating app. You may be able to find queer meetups through the app meetup. Thurst (which is specifically queer-oriented), Her, and Mesh are all meant to be gender-inclusive dating apps that you might be able to make some friends through. You may find it validating to see others like you on places like genderfork, to get to read your name/gender/pronouns correctly by using the Pronoun Dressing Room (it inserts you into some stories to give you a feel of how your name/gender/pronouns sound), or just plain getting to hear some amazing and validating things about yourself using your name/pronouns by blogs like name-valid.

For you specifically, for clothing, I would suggest a cami/bra that doesn’t emphasize your breasts. Avoid push-ups, of course, but don’t be afraid to try on some different bra brands to find the look you want. I don’t know how big you are or where you’re located, but I’m in the US (and fairly small), and I like my ‘no boundaries’ bras because they hide my nippes and let me look flat under most shirts. You can also just wear a tighter shirt/cami under your shirt.

As well, experiment with fashion a bit. I have a bunch of loose-fitting shirts with characters/pictures on them that leave me either shapeless or leave my shape fairly unclear. Button-up shirts can be great for making you look flat. Dark colors and irregular patterns (ie, no typical polka dots or evenly spaced small diamonds or something) can also help hide your shape. Vertical and especially diagonal stripes are good on shirts. Slightly baggy tshirts to well-fitting but not tight button ups is probably the size to aim for.

I’m really sorry to not be able to tell you what you’re looking for, but there are other ways you can cope. I hope some of these tips help you.

~ Mod Sock