#but hazards that can be controlled should be

[brennacedria]

brian's on one of his games with the guys. I'm about 5 seconds from throwing the box with his new headset in it at him cause the cord on the existing headset stretches across the room at almost hip height and it's just enough that I can't go under or over it to get around.

[philosopherking1887]

More good things the Biden administration is doing: OSHA heat safety rules for workers

Remember when Texas and Florida passed laws preventing local and municipal governments from implementing their own heat safety rules and said that if heat is such a big problem, OSHA should make rules that apply to everyone? If not, NPR can remind you. OSHA has now accepted the challenge, moving much faster than they usually do:

OSHA National News Release U.S. Department of Labor July 2, 2024 Biden-Harris administration announces proposed rule to protect indoor, outdoor workers from extreme heat WASHINGTON – The U.S. Department of Labor has released a proposed rule with the goal of protecting millions of workers from the significant health risks of extreme heat. If finalized, the proposed rule would help protect approximately 36 million workers in indoor and outdoor work settings and substantially reduce heat injuries, illnesses, and deaths in the workplace. Heat is the leading cause of weather-related deaths in the U.S. Excessive workplace heat can lead to heat stroke and even death. While heat hazards impact workers in many industries, workers of color have a higher likelihood of working in jobs with hazardous heat exposure. “Every worker should come home safe and healthy at the end of the day, which is why the Biden-Harris administration is taking this significant step to protect workers from the dangers posed by extreme heat,” said Acting Secretary of Labor Julie Su. “As the most pro-worker administration in history, we are committed to ensuring that those doing difficult work in some of our economy’s most critical sectors are valued and kept safe in the workplace.” The proposed rule would require employers to develop an injury and illness prevention plan to control heat hazards in workplaces affected by excessive heat. Among other things, the plan would require employers to evaluate heat risks and — when heat increases risks to workers — implement requirements for drinking water, rest breaks and control of indoor heat. It would also require a plan to protect new or returning workers unaccustomed to working in high heat conditions. “Workers all over the country are passing out, suffering heat stroke and dying from heat exposure from just doing their jobs, and something must be done to protect them,” said Assistant Secretary for Occupational Safety and Health Douglas L. Parker. “Today’s proposal is an important next step in the process to receive public input to craft a ‘win-win’ final rule that protects workers while being practical and workable for employers.” Employers would also be required to provide training, have procedures to respond if a worker is experiencing signs and symptoms of a heat-related illness, and take immediate action to help a worker experiencing signs and symptoms of a heat emergency. The public is encouraged to submit written comments on the rule once it is published in the Federal Register. The agency also anticipates a public hearing after the close of the written comment period. More information will be available on submitting comments when the rule is published. In the interim, OSHA continues to direct significant existing outreach and enforcement resources to educate employers and workers and hold businesses accountable for violations of the Occupational Safety and Health Act’s general duty clause, 29 U.S.C. § 654(a)(1) and other applicable regulations. Record-breaking temperatures across the nation have increased the risks people face on-the-job, especially in summer months. Every year, dozens of workers die and thousands more suffer illnesses related to hazardous heat exposure that, sadly, are most often preventable. The agency continues to conduct heat-related inspections under its National Emphasis Program – Outdoor and Indoor Heat-Related Hazards, launched in 2022. The program inspects workplaces with the highest exposures to heat-related hazards proactively to prevent workers from suffering injury, illness or death needlessly. Since the launch, OSHA has conducted more than 5,000 federal heat-related inspections. In addition, the agency is prioritizing programmed inspections in agricultural industries that employ temporary, nonimmigrant H-2A workers for seasonal labor. These workers face unique vulnerabilities, including potential language barriers, less control over their living and working conditions, and possible lack of acclimatization, and are at high risk of hazardous heat exposure.

[moonstruckme]

hellooo!! hope you’re doing well! So in my city whenever a drop of rain falls it’s immediately chaos, people drive worse than ever and lots of floodings happen. Today was especially rough as it was raining really bad, I got out of class at 4;30 and got home at 7, a trip that usually lasts around 20-40 min depending on traffic. I was stuck in traffic and was low on gas, the fastest way to get to a gas station was through a flooded road, though many were driving through it, it was still so scary. Literally called my mom, almost crying, not knowing if I could cross the road. Thankfully, i did cross it, praying to whatever that heard me the entire way. Got home absolutely exhausted, cramped and menstruating😆

Sooo the point is if you could do this but with poly!marauders? Where reader calls one of them up crying and they can only help her through the phone, need the angst with comfort. Tsym!!

Ugh sorry lovely, glad it worked out okay! Thank you for requesting

modern au

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 702 words

“Hello?” 

“Ask her what’s taking so long,” says Sirius, leaning towards where James sits sprawled across the loveseat and dragging Remus with him by consequence. Sirius’ cartilage piercing is infected again, and Remus has finally resorted to trapping both of his hands in his to keep him from touching it. Sirius seems to feel alternately pleased and as though he’s being held prisoner. He shouts towards the phone, “Rem won’t heat dinner without you, and I’m starving!” 

James cups the speaker protectively, cradling the phone close to his ear. “Hey, lovie,” he says, voice soft enough that the other boys both still. “What’s going on?” 

A muffled voice on the other end of the line. James’ brow pinches. 

“Alright, that’s okay. You’re okay, right? Are you somewhere safe?” 

Remus’ chest tightens. 

“Put her on speaker,” says Sirius, mouthing at first, then louder, until his voice is a shrill whisper. “Put her on speaker, James.” 

“Angel, give me just a second, okay? I’m gonna put you on speaker.” James pulls the phone away from his face, whispering hurriedly to the others. “Her tire blew on the motorway.” He clicks a button. 

“Hey, baby.” Remus can hear your stuttering breaths through the speaker, a forewarning that you’re holding back tears, and Sirius’ desperate tone is a match for them. “Are you okay?” 

Remus strokes his thumb over his boyfriend’s hand. Settle down. 

“I’m fine.” It’s a relief to hear your voice, though it reaffirms Remus’ fears, thick and slightly tremulous. “I, um, my tire blew and the car kind of went out of control, so I panicked and ended up pulling off in the shoulder of the fast lane. I keep thinking people are going to hit me.” 

Remus leans towards the phone, ignoring the twinge in his chest and summoning his surest tone. “Nobody’s going to hit you. Just keep your hazards on, they’ll go around you.” He glances outside. It’s not dark yet, but it’s getting there. “Do we still have the spare tire in the trunk?” 

“Um, I think so? I’m not sure. I’m a little bit scared to get out and check.” 

“We should go,” Sirius whispers. 

“How?” Remus asks, not unsympathetically. “She has the car, love. We can’t very well walk there.” 

“There’s no rush,” James says to you. His light tone is at odds with his terse expression, fingers wrapped tight around his phone. “You can go look for it when you feel ready.” 

Suddenly, they can hear the sounds of the motorway through the phone. You must have put them on speaker, too. Remus can picture you in the car, setting your phone in the cupholder and pulling your legs up onto your seat. When you speak, it sounds muffled, as though your voice is coming from behind your hands. “I’m really sorry. You guys should eat dinner, I think I’m going to be awhile.” 

Sirius makes a distressed sound in the back of his throat. “Hey, I was just fucking around about dinner, babydoll. Don’t worry about that. We’re all okay, yeah?”

“Okay.” You sound close to tears. 

“Sweetheart,” Remus interjects, “can you take a deep breath for me? Just take a second.” 

There’s a thick pause, the sound of your breath crackling through the speaker. Remus does it with you, trying to relax the tension in his own chest. He notices James’ shoulders drooping on your exhale, too.

“Thank you,” Remus says softly. “You’re fine, yeah? You can handle this.” 

“Yeah.” You sound frail, but better. “Sorry.” 

“What for, my love?” James asks lightly. “Seems like luck just wasn’t on your side this time, s’got nothing to do with you. Listen, I’ll talk you through changing the tire in case there’s anything you forgot, and then we can worry about you merging back on when it comes to that. There’s no rush, okay?” 

“Okay,” you say, more sure now. “Thank you. You’ll all stay on the line with me?” 

“Where else would we be, sweetness?” Sirius teases. “I always love talking to you, you know that.” 

Remus lifts Sirius' hands to his face, kissing them with a smile on his lips. For all the worry thickening the air in the room, the love is thicker.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Cleantech has an enshittification problem

On July 14, I'm giving the closing keynote for the fifteenth HACKERS ON PLANET EARTH, in QUEENS, NY. Happy Bastille Day! On July 20, I'm appearing in CHICAGO at Exile in Bookville.

EVs won't save the planet. Ultimately, the material bill for billions of individual vehicles and the unavoidable geometry of more cars-more traffic-more roads-greater distances-more cars dictate that the future of our cities and planet requires public transit – lots of it.

But no matter how much public transit we install, there's always going to be some personal vehicles on the road, and not just bikes, ebikes and scooters. Between deliveries, accessibility, and stubbornly low-density regions, there's going to be a lot of cars, vans and trucks on the road for the foreseeable future, and these should be electric.

Beyond that irreducible minimum of personal vehicles, there's the fact that individuals can't install their own public transit system; in places that lack the political will or means to create working transit, EVs are a way for people to significantly reduce their personal emissions.

In policy circles, EV adoption is treated as a logistical and financial issue, so governments have focused on making EVs affordable and increasing the density of charging stations. As an EV owner, I can affirm that affordability and logistics were important concerns when we were shopping for a car.

But there's a third EV problem that is almost entirely off policy radar: enshittification.

An EV is a rolling computer in a fancy case with a squishy person inside of it. While this can sound scary, there are lots of cool implications for this. For example, your EV could download your local power company's tariff schedule and preferentially charge itself when the rates are lowest; they could also coordinate with the utility to reduce charging when loads are peaking. You can start them with your phone. Your repair technician can run extensive remote diagnostics on them and help you solve many problems from the road. New features can be delivered over the air.

That's just for starters, but there's so much more in the future. After all, the signal virtue of a digital computer is its flexibility. The only computer we know how to make is the Turing complete, universal, Von Neumann machine, which can run every valid program. If a feature is computationally tractable – from automated parallel parking to advanced collision prevention – it can run on a car.

The problem is that this digital flexibility presents a moral hazard to EV manufacturers. EVs are designed to make any kind of unauthorized, owner-selected modification into an IP rights violation ("IP" in this case is "any law that lets me control the conduct of my customers or competitors"):

https://locusmag.com/2020/09/cory-doctorow-ip/

EVs are also designed so that the manufacturer can unilaterally exert control over them or alter their operation. EVs – even more than conventional vehicles – are designed to be remotely killswitched in order to help manufacturers and dealers pressure people into paying their car notes on time:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/24/rent-to-pwn/#kitt-is-a-demon

Manufacturers can reach into your car and change how much of your battery you can access:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/28/edison-not-tesla/#demon-haunted-world

They can lock your car and have it send its location to a repo man, then greet him by blinking its lights, honking its horn, and pulling out of its parking space:

https://tiremeetsroad.com/2021/03/18/tesla-allegedly-remotely-unlocks-model-3-owners-car-uses-smart-summon-to-help-repo-agent/

And of course, they can detect when you've asked independent mechanic to service your car and then punish you by degrading its functionality:

https://www.repairerdrivennews.com/2024/06/26/two-of-eight-claims-in-tesla-anti-trust-lawsuit-will-move-forward/

This is "twiddling" – unilaterally and irreversibly altering the functionality of a product or service, secure in the knowledge that IP law will prevent anyone from twiddling back by restoring the gadget to a preferred configuration:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/19/twiddler/

The thing is, for an EV, twiddling is the best case scenario. As bad as it is for the company that made your EV to change how it works whenever they feel like picking your pocket, that's infinitely preferable to the manufacturer going bankrupt and bricking your car.

That's what just happened to owners of Fisker EVs, cars that cost $40-70k. Cars are long-term purchases. An EV should last 12-20 years, or even longer if you pay to swap the battery pack. Fisker was founded in 2016 and shipped its first Ocean SUV in 2023. The company is now bankrupt:

https://insideevs.com/news/723669/fisker-inc-bankruptcy-chapter-11-official/

Fisker called its vehicles "software-based cars" and they weren't kidding. Without continuous software updates and server access, those Fisker Ocean SUVs are turning into bricks. What's more, the company designed the car from the ground up to make any kind of independent service and support into a felony, by wrapping the whole thing in overlapping layers of IP. That means that no one can step in with a module that jailbreaks the Fisker and drops in an alternative firmware that will keep the fleet rolling.

This is the third EV risk – not just finance, not just charger infrastructure, but the possibility that any whizzy, cool new EV company will go bust and brick your $70k cleantech investment, irreversibly transforming your car into 5,500 lb worth of e-waste.

This confers a huge advantage onto the big automakers like VW, Kia, Ford, etc. Tesla gets a pass, too, because it achieved critical mass before people started to wise up to the risk of twiddling and bricking. If you're making a serious investment in a product you expect to use for 20 years, are you really gonna buy it from a two-year old startup with six months' capital in the bank?

The incumbency advantage here means that the big automakers won't have any reason to sink a lot of money into R&D, because they won't have to worry about hungry startups with cool new ideas eating their lunches. They can maintain the cozy cartel that has seen cars stagnate for decades, with the majority of "innovation" taking the form of shitty, extractive and ill-starred ideas like touchscreen controls and an accelerator pedal that you have to rent by the month:

https://www.theverge.com/2022/11/23/23474969/mercedes-car-subscription-faster-acceleration-feature-price

Put that way, it's clear that this isn't an EV problem, it's a cleantech problem. Cleantech has all the problems of EVs: it requires a large capital expenditure, it will be "smart," and it is expected to last for decades. That's rooftop solar, heat-pumps, smart thermostat sensor arrays, and home storage batteries.

And just as with EVs, policymakers have focused on infrastructure and affordability without paying any attention to the enshittification risks. Your rooftop solar will likely be controlled via a Solaredge box – a terrible technology that stops working if it can't reach the internet for a protracted period (that's right, your home solar stops working if the grid fails!).

I found this out the hard way during the covid lockdowns, when Solaredge terminated its 3G cellular contract and notified me that I would have to replace the modem in my system or it would stop working. This was at the height of the supply-chain crisis and there was a long waiting list for any replacement modems, with wifi cards (that used your home internet rather than a cellular connection) completely sold out for most of a year.

There are good reasons to connect rooftop solar arrays to the internet – it's not just so that Solaredge can enshittify my service. Solar arrays that coordinate with the grid can make it much easier and safer to manage a grid that was designed for centralized power production and is being retrofitted for distributed generation, one roof at a time.

But when the imperatives of extraction and efficiency go to war, extraction always wins. After all, the Solaredge system is already in place and solar installers are largely ignorant of, and indifferent to, the reasons that a homeowner might want to directly control and monitor their system via local controls that don't roundtrip through the cloud.

Somewhere in the hindbrain of any prospective solar purchaser is the experience with bricked and enshittified "smart" gadgets, and the knowledge that anything they buy from a cool startup with lots of great ideas for improving production, monitoring, and/or costs poses the risk of having your 20 year investment bricked after just a few years – and, thanks to the extractive imperative, no one will be able to step in and restore your ex-solar array to good working order.

I make the majority of my living from books, which means that my pay is very "lumpy" – I get large sums when I publish a book and very little in between. For many years, I've used these payments to make big purchases, rather than financing them over long periods where I can't predict my income. We've used my book payments to put in solar, then an induction stove, then a battery. We used one to buy out the lease on our EV. And just a month ago, we used the money from my upcoming Enshittification book to put in a heat pump (with enough left over to pay for a pair of long-overdue cataract surgeries, scheduled for the fall).

When we started shopping for heat pumps, it was clear that this was a very exciting sector. First of all, heat pumps are kind of magic, so efficient and effective it's almost surreal. But beyond the basic tech – which has been around since the late 1940s – there is a vast ferment of cool digital features coming from exciting and innovative startups.

By nature, I'm the kid of person who likes these digital features. I started out as a computer programmer, and while I haven't written production code since the previous millennium, I've been in and around the tech industry for my whole adult life. But when it came time to buy a heat-pump – an investment that I expected to last for 20 years or more – there was no way I was going to buy one of these cool new digitally enhanced pumps, no matter how much the reviewers loved them. Sure, they'd work well, but it's precisely because I'm so knowledgeable about high tech that I could see that they would fail very, very badly.

You may think EVs are bullshit, and they are – though there will always be room for some personal vehicles, and it's better for people in transit deserts to drive EVs than gas-guzzlers. You may think rooftop solar is a dead-end and be all-in on utility scale solar (I think we need both, especially given the grid-disrupting extreme climate events on our horizon). But there's still a wide range of cleantech – induction tops, heat pumps, smart thermostats – that are capital intensive, have a long duty cycle, and have good reasons to be digitized and networked.

Take home storage batteries: your utility can push its rate card to your battery every time they change their prices, and your battery can use that information to decide when to let your house tap into the grid, and when to switch over to powering your home with the solar you've stored up during the day. This is a very old and proven pattern in tech: the old Fidonet BBS network used a version of this, with each BBS timing its calls to other nodes to coincide with the cheapest long-distance rates, so that messages for distant systems could be passed on:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/FidoNet

Cleantech is a very dynamic sector, even if its triumphs are largely unheralded. There's a quiet revolution underway in generation, storage and transmission of renewable power, and a complimentary revolution in power-consumption in vehicles and homes:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/12/s-curve/#anything-that-cant-go-on-forever-eventually-stops

But cleantech is too important to leave to the incumbents, who are addicted to enshittification and planned obsolescence. These giant, financialized firms lack the discipline and culture to make products that have the features – and cost savings – to make them appealing to the very wide range of buyers who must transition as soon as possible, for the sake of the very planet.

It's not enough for our policymakers to focus on financing and infrastructure barriers to cleantech adoption. We also need a policy-level response to enshittification.

Ideally, every cleantech device would be designed so that it was impossible to enshittify – which would also make it impossible to brick:

Based on free software (best), or with source code escrowed with a trustee who must release the code if the company enters administration (distant second-best);

All patents in a royalty-free patent-pool (best); or in a trust that will release them into a royalty-free pool if the company enters administration (distant second-best);

No parts-pairing or other DRM permitted (best); or with parts-pairing utilities available to all parties on a reasonable and non-discriminatory basis (distant second-best);

All diagnostic and error codes in the public domain, with all codes in the clear within the device (best); or with decoding utilities available on demand to all comers on a reasonable and non-discriminatory basis (distant second-best).

There's an obvious business objection to this: it will reduce investment in innovative cleantech because investors will perceive these restrictions as limits on the expected profits of their portfolio companies. It's true: these measures are designed to prevent rent-extraction and other enshittificatory practices by cleantech companies, and to the extent that investors are counting on enshittification rents, this might prevent them from investing.

But that has to be balanced against the way that a general prohibition on enshittificatory practices will inspire consumer confidence in innovative and novel cleantech products, because buyers will know that their investments will be protected over the whole expected lifespan of the product, even if the startup goes bust (nearly every startup goes bust). These measures mean that a company with a cool product will have a much larger customer-base to sell to. Those additional sales more than offset the loss of expected revenue from cheating and screwing your customers by twiddling them to death.

There's also an obvious legal objection to this: creating these policies will require a huge amount of action from Congress and the executive branch, a whole whack of new rules and laws to make them happen, and each will attract court-challenges.

That's also true, though it shouldn't stop us from trying to get legal reforms. As a matter of public policy, it's terrible and fucked up that companies can enshittify the things we buy and leave us with no remedy.

However, we don't have to wait for legal reform to make this work. We can take a shortcut with procurement – the things governments buy with public money. The feds, the states and localities buy a lot of cleantech: for public facilities, for public housing, for public use. Prudent public policy dictates that governments should refuse to buy any tech unless it is designed to be enshittification-resistant.

This is an old and honorable tradition in policymaking. Lincoln insisted that the rifles he bought for the Union Army come with interoperable tooling and ammo, for obvious reasons. No one wants to be the Commander in Chief who shows up on the battlefield and says, "Sorry, boys, war's postponed, our sole supplier decided to stop making ammunition."

By creating a market for enshittification-proof cleantech, governments can ensure that the public always has the option of buying an EV that can't be bricked even if the maker goes bust, a heat-pump whose digital features can be replaced or maintained by a third party of your choosing, a solar controller that coordinates with the grid in ways that serve their owners – not the manufacturers' shareholders.

We're going to have to change a lot to survive the coming years. Sure, there's a lot of scary ways that things can go wrong, but there's plenty about our world that should change, and plenty of ways those changes could be for the better. It's not enough for policymakers to focus on ensuring that we can afford to buy whatever badly thought-through, extractive tech the biggest companies want to foist on us – we also need a focus on making cleantech fit for purpose, truly smart, reliable and resilient.

Support me this summer on the Clarion Write-A-Thon and help raise money for the Clarion Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers' Workshop!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/26/unplanned-obsolescence/#better-micetraps

Image: 臺灣古寫真上色 (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Raid_on_Kagi_City_1945.jpg

Grendelkhan (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Ground_mounted_solar_panels.gk.jpg

CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/deed.en

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

28 / 1.7k / soap soulmate au, part 5

...

Soap stares at his name where it's inked across your skin. You should be his enemy. He's sitting across from you, your interrogator in this dimly lit weapons closet. You refuse to look at him. But his gaze bores into you anyway, intense on your eyes, your lips, the cuts and bruises on your face. He wants you. But he can only have you once you've given him the information Captain Price needs.

"Tell me where Alejandro is," he says. "That's all you need to do."

A muscle in your jaw twitches when he mentions Graves' name, but you bite your tongue. You won't let him shake your resolve like he did in Las Almas. You should've killed him on sight.

"What Graves is doing to Alejandro--you know it's wrong." Soap’s gaze is steady. You're so close. He wants you so badly it hurts. "He's not a good man.”

"You have no idea what kind of man he is," you say.

"I know exactly the kind of man he is," he growls. "I saw what he did to the people in Las Almas. He called them dirty cops and had them executed when they said they didn't know anything. Innocent people. In front of their families. Their children." Soap's hands curl into fists on the table between you. "He's not the kind of man who deserves your loyalty."

Your cuffs clink as your arms flex against the chair. "You wouldn't understand."

"You're right. I wouldn't." Soap's knuckles pop, his voice low and dark. All his life he's waited for you. Now Graves--fucking Graves, who betrayed Soap and his team and tried to murder them all--is somehow the one keeping you from him. "I don't understand what you see in that bastard."

You say nothing, eyes trained on the far wall.

Soap's shoulders tighten. "You're just a tool to him."

"I’m a soldier. I choose to follow orders. So do you.”

"You're following his orders. You think that makes you a soldier, being a weapon? No. Makes you a damn dog."

You say nothing.

Soap grips the table until it creaks. "You think he cares about you.”

"It doesn't matter if he does or not."

"It does so bloody matter. You’re no’ some pawn he can just throw away." God damn you. He wants to grab you with both hands and shake you. To hell with this interrogation--he's got half a mind to lock you down somewhere padded until you get it through your skull that you're not worthless. He scowls at you. "You're better than this. You have to be."

Cold irritation seeps through your mask. "Am I?" Soulmate or not, he doesn’t know you.

At the look on your face, Soap's scowl deepens. He's going to kill that bastard, and he's going to do it slowly. "What about Graves is more important to you than the innocent lives he took? Does that mean nothing to you?”

"Orders are orders."

Soap's voice drops to a dangerous pitch. "Look me in the eye and say that.”

You don’t. You tell yourself it’s because he has no power over you. He can’t tell you what to do.

Soap crosses his arms. "'S what I thought. You're bluffing."

"I'm not."

"Bullshit. Graves is nothing but Shepherd's lapdog. Gettin’ paid to commit goddamn war crimes.”

"Shut your mouth," you snap. "You have no idea what happened--"

You stumble on the next syllable and go silent, realizing suddenly that you're looking him in the eye.

Johnny's a man of impulse, and it takes all the self-control he has to keep himself in place the moment you lock eyes. The pull he feels to you right now is overwhelming. You're in reach. He leans forward. Those brilliant blue eyes of his see all the way down into your soul. They’re just the same as you remember--eerily vivid, pupils blown, with his jaw set hard.

"What happened to what, darlin'?"

You shift, skin prickling. You want to cross your arms over yourself and clap your hand over the soulmark on your neck. "You don't know what happened in Al Mazrah."

"You were ambushed."

You nod, remembering that night of the mission. You've seen your squadmates die before. It's a hazard of the job, part of being a mercenary. But that night--seeing so many Shadows gunned down before they could so much as draw their weapons--it still haunts you.

"Shepard didn't know. It wasn't like we-- it was supposed to be a simple transport mission."

"It was a black bag op."

"That's what Shadows do. We take missions people don't like. Someone has to step in where you military dogs won't."

"Where was Shepherd when it went tits up, hm?" Soap's lip curls. "No air support on an illegal op. He left you to be killed. And now he needs someone to blame. It's not gonna be him taking that bullet. It's gonna be you."

"Captain Graves can handle it."

Soap lets out a rough sigh. Your insistence on Graves is rubbing him raw. You could have died on that op two months ago. And then what? He'd have never met you, only found your name later in stone on some memorial somewhere. The thought makes his chest go cold and his blood run hot. It could still happen. If he can't tear you away from this bloody mercenary work, you'll never be his. Christ. He can't let that happen. He won't. You're not going back to the Shadow Company. He'll tear Graves into pieces before he lets that happen.

He fixates on your soulmark again. Why can't he focus on getting the information Price needs? All he can think about right now is the scab on your lip, the way your pupils dilate when you look at him. Your body wants his even as you're spitting venom. The fire in you matches his own, and he wants more.

"Graves isn't here," Soap tells you. "And I'm not takin’ chances. You’re not going back to Shepherd, and you’re sure as hell not going back to Graves. You're mine."

You pull on your cuffs, hating the way the possessive note in his voice makes your stomach flip. "You don't get to decide that."

"Neither do you.”

"Isn't a matter of choice. It's a matter of what you’re gonnae do about it."

You swallow and watch his gaze track down your throat. He's close. When did he lean in? Why aren't you pulling back?

No, you tell yourself, you’re not scared. You’re in control. You lean a millimeter closer. "You can't keep me here."

His eyes brighten, gaze so intense it warms your skin. "Careful, darlin'. You don't want to throw down that gauntlet."

"And you expect me to tell you whatever you want to know? Fuck my career, fuck my squadmates?"

"If you weren't so damn dense, I'd--" He mutters another string of curses in that thick Scottish accent, standing from his chair and pacing the tight room. "You don't understand what I'm offerin’. You don't need them. You have me an' mine."

He circles around to your side of the interrogation table and kneels next to you, his expression an open plea for you to listen. You stare down at him with your heart suddenly in your throat. You can't backpedal. You can't look away.

He searches your face. Even roughed up, even pissing him off, you're beautiful. Damn it, he's going to do something stupid if he doesn't control himself.

He keeps his voice low and even. "You were expendable to them. You're expendable to Graves. You're no' expendable to me." He reaches up to you, and you go still. His hand is hot on your skin. His grip is surely strong enough to break bone. But only his thumb drags along your lip. His eyes follow the motion. "Your loyalty should be for people who care about you. I'm on your side, ya wee shite. Just tell me how to get to Alejandro and I'll get you out of here. I'll make sure you're safe. That's all I need to know."

You stare down at him. Your heart beats in your ears, and his pulse hammers with yours. You can feel it through his thumb against the sensitive skin on your lower lip.

Johnny wants you so badly you almost give in. He thinks he's telling the truth--that he'll protect you. But he doesn't know any better. You're not who he wants you to be. You're not soft. You're not good. Why does he act like he can see something redeemable in you?

Being his soulmate doesn't guarantee you a goddamn thing. Promises don't afford you any more protection than you've already given yourself. You know that very well. People aren't reliable. Soulmarks don’t fix everything. They’re just ink.

Whatever he sees when he looks up at you makes something cold and sharp settle in his chest. His throat constricts. He's pushing, he knows he is, and it's the wrong move with you. He's never been this desperate for anyone.

"Darlin'. Don't do that. Don't shut me out." His voice wavers just like his resolve. He'd protect you to his last. You refuse to see that, and he can't make you.

You look away, pulling away from his hand. "I don't trust you."

Johnny's stomach drops, and he digs his fingers into the metal chair to stop himself from digging them into you.

You want him. He can see it in the set of your shoulders, how tight you hold yourself when he's close to you. You want him despite yourself, and you still refuse. It doesn't matter how rational a decision it should be to accept his help. There's something else happening in your head that's keeping your walls up, and he's starting to realize it's not just Graves. It can't be.

He watches you for a long moment. He doesn't want you to hurt, but he's not stupid enough to believe you'll soften up and come around with time. You're a soldier.

Finally, Soap stands. If you don’t tell him what he needs to know, you’ll remain a hostage, and won’t be able to have you. He won’t accept that.

"Fine," he says, pushing his way out the door. "We’ll do this the hard way."

...

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / [part 5] / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10 / part 11 / part 12

more Soap / masterlist tag

[henrycangelbaby]

In which: He feels foolish, admitting his fears out loud, for they seem so silly, but he wants to be honest with her, always.

or

Logan feels unfit to be a father.

He sleeps most nights, always on the left side of the bed (he used to sleep on the right until they started sharing a bed, and they quickly found out she had no hope of sleeping peacefully when on the wrong side for the night). He had given up the right side easily; if he had achieved anything else in all his years of life, adapting to change (new sleep conditions) now came easy to him.

She always sleeps on the right, her back curled into his chest; sometimes she even cuddles his arm close. It causes his shoulder to ache in the morning, but it feels like it’s worth it. Her happiness is always worth it.

He hasn’t been sleeping as much as he usually does. He’s not well rested or peaceful, and despite all his sleeping experience, he cannot seem to get a good night's rest. In recent months, it’s his thoughts that have been keeping him awake. His doubts and worries haunt all his thoughts day and night. He should speak to her about it; he knows if he brought it up, she would scold him for not bringing it up sooner. They were in this together, and he could always tell her anything.

Part of him feels guilty; she shouldn’t have to bear his burden; she’s already doing so much for him, growing their child and giving them the gift of a family. He might never be able to repay her for it. Part of him feels embarrassed. Why is he feeling so many stupid feelings? All this anger and self-pity is so stupid that it makes him, well, angry.

Sometimes it makes him sad, a kind of sadness that he can’t seem to shake off; it lingers deep in his chest, and sometimes only when she sleeps quietly next to him does he allow it to consume him. A few silent tears slip from his eyes as he splays his hand, covering the expanse of her stomach. His eyelashes feel wet.

She sleeps peacefully next to him, her eyelashes gentle against her cheekbones. He can feel the way her stomach rises and falls with her breath, his palm spread across the bump. Well, it isn’t just a bump; it’s her bump. His baby is in there, their baby. He’s not quite sure how to refer to “it” yet. Not to sound rude, but the whole “kid” thing had never really been on his radar.

Logan knows many things; he knows violence and death, fighting and killing, loneliness, and years and years of loneliness. He’s not actually been lonely; he's always been surrounded by people, but he never quite had the love and intimacy that Y/N has brought to his life. It was new when they first met; she was so young, sweet, and loving. The sun shone so brightly whenever they were together that he swore his tan got a shade or two darker after he saw her. They would bask together, sleeping peacefully in the yellow hue.

There is no hue right now; in fact, he feels like the sun may have retreated forever, leaving him in a gloomy darkness. And it’s all his fault. Y/N still loves him the same; nothing has changed, only his feelings.

He can feel the tears again; they burn his eyes, blurring his vision. His chest feels tight; it aches as it begins to beat faster. He feels different from before; never have his emotions felt so heightened before. He has to get out.

He throws the covers off his body so fast, not giving a second thought to where they land. He finds himself in the dining room, hazardously throwing on the big light. Before he can think about it and compose himself, they come out. His claws suddenly shoot through the wood of the dinner table.

"Fuck,” he curses, and it hurts like a bitch as well. Logan has had control over his claws for quite literally decades; he has grown to understand the pain of it, but so unexpectedly, this time it hurt. He can’t stop the tears in his eyes as he yanks the metal out of the wood, leaving the splintered wood behind.

“Lo?” Y/N's voice comes from behind him. Sweet and sleep-ridden, she walks quietly from the bottom of the stairs, tiptoeing towards him. “Why are you out of bed?”

Her eyes suddenly catch the busted wood he stands over, and caught at the scene of the crime, he feels a sense of shame wash over him. How had he let his emotions get the best of him like that? This was the whole fucking problem.

She spoke again: "Is everything okay, honey?"

Fuck, she shouldn't be worrying about this. He apologizes before he can think about it. "I'm sorry for waking you, baby; everything's fine; go back to bed."

She doesn't listen to him as he expected, stepping closer to him, eyes skimming over the damaged table before coming to stand right in front of him. He goes to flinch away when she reaches out for his hand. She soothes her other hand up and down his arm for a second. God, he feels so fucking dumb right now, acting like a feral street cat.

The soft petting worked, and she softly grabbed his hand without resistance, pulling it up to her lips to plant the softest of kisses on it. It's an act of affection that he only allows Y/N to do; he feels like a feral cat when other people try to touch his hands, almost hissing at the touch.

He had opened up to her about the pain, while it healed instantly, he often felt it linger there, a tenderness that could only be healed by kisses from his sweet girl. She always treated them like it was real pain, kissing his knuckles after a long day and ensuring he takes hand cream with him everywhere he goes (he would never usually use something like that, but she buys them the same one, and he quite likes the sugary scent that reminded him of her).

"You can tell me what's bothering you." It sounded less like an offer and more like a demand. She must have seen the hurt that flashed across his face at her words, "I would never judge you."

It seems uncanny that she always knows what he needs to hear; her reassurances mean the world to him. She guides him to sit down on one of the dining table chairs standing between his legs. He looks up at her, and she smiles back at him. She always looks so beautiful when she smiles.

"You'll always be safe here, with us."

Logan couldn't help it; the tears started leaking out of his eyes. "Us," he knew what she meant by that, their baby—the reminder of the burden he was about to become in the family that they had created together. His silent tears dribbled down the soft fabric of her t-shirt, creating a wet patch at the top of her rounded stomach. She let him cry, shushing him gently, as he imagined she might do in a few months with their baby.

There are so many things he wants to say, so many apologies he wants to utter out loud, but nothing comes out except more tears. "Tell me what's hurting you, honey; maybe I can help fix it."

He shakes his head. "You're already doing so much for me; for our family, I just can't."

"Can't what?"

He feels foolish, admitting his fears out loud, for they seem so silly, but he wants to be honest with her, always.

"I'm scared," it comes out barely as a whisper, his confession quiet, but he knew she heard it. She nodded wordlessly; it was enough to encourage him to keep going. "I'm scared to be a dad, scared that I'm a bad person, a violent and unfit person to raise a child, a man as horrible as me tainting such an innocent thing."

She holds him tighter, his head resting against the home of their baby.

"You are not a bad person." Her words are firm as she tilts his head upwards, forcing him to make eye contact with her. "Honey, you are the nicest person that I know."

He opens his mouth, but she shakes her head at him before continuing, "You are many things, Lo, so loving and so kind, and not once have I felt unsafe around you, yeah?"

He stopped crying, wiping his eyes, and apologizing. "I'm sorry, bub."

She shakes her head with a chuckle. "None of that; you are always valid for believing these things, but that doesn't make them true. You are the best husband, and I know that you will be the best daddy ever."

Before he can think about it, he pulls her down into a kiss and smiles into it. For the first time in months, he feels fine, like everything will work out just fine.

"Come on, let's go back to bed." She grabs his hand, leading him out of the room. He casts the splintered table a glance as he turns the light off.

"I'm sorry about the table, bub."

She just smiles at him. "That's okay; it was ugly anyway," is all she says before picking up the pace towards their bedroom.

Wait, he picked out that table.

"Hey!"

A/N: first fan fic i've ever published and finshed, pls be nice. Also i have the grammar + spelling skills of a dyslexic baby, i did put this through a checker but please just ignore it. also also feedback is always welcome idk if anyone will read this but i heart Hugh Jackman

[techmomma]

look. they're dead if they're not on the surface. if they're not, they and everyone else will wish they were. an implosion is the kindest death they could have down there.

here are some things to keep in mind:

the deepest operational depths, meaning the safest depth that a manned crew could, potentially, rescue a submersible, is 300 meters. 980 feet. just under a 1000 feet. classified subs may be able to go deeper but that limit is like maybe 100 feet more. submarines cannot go trawling around sea floors unless they're relatively close to the coast

the titanic is 2.4 miles deep. 3840 meters. 12,600 feet. 12 times the operational depth of even the best naval submarines.

this tourist submersible's greatest operating depth? 13,000 feet. they're already at 96% of their operating depth. there's about a 4% margin before shit goes sideways, in normal circumstances

96 hours of oxygen is what OceanGate has told everyone this submersible has. this unregulated, untested sub. that they made. 96 hours of oxygen is probably being very, very generous.

there's only like a handful of submersibles, in the entire world, that can reach those depths. there's more ROVs that can reach deeper, but what percentage could help pull an entire submersible that can fit five people? their best bet is going to be getting some kind of remotely-operated flotation device attached to the submersible.

descending and ascending in a submersible is an incredibly delicate process that takes careful monitoring and delicate instruments. if they attach the flotation device then they're going to need something to monitor the internal and external pressure of the submersible. expanding gas could create a leak, which would instantly implode the submersible on the way up. not to mention gases and ballast must be monitored to prevent the occupants from getting the Bends, which can be fatal of itself.

all of this going to be made infinitely harder if the submersible is, as some suspect, tangled in the wreckage itself, which presents a hundred more problems such as zero visibility, structural collapse of several thousand tonnes of rusting iron and steel, punctures, etc..

all of this is assuming they are still conscious inside, and even have power. no power? even more difficult.

none of this is including the numerous defects the submersible is suspected of having, such as a CO2 filter. this is all assuming this submersible had zero defects--unlikely, considering their own words on why they didn't wait for inspection.

There is a goddamn reason they send ROVs down to the Titanic. There is a reason it should only be done by non-profit groups. There is a reason there should be oversight from the Navy and Coastguard. There is a reason that any human visitation is a carefully coordinated and monitored effort, where the majority are trained technicians inside the submersible and out. There is a reason that submarine crew and research crews also go through psychological evaluations, go through training to understand what to do in life-threatening situations. All of them, not just one dude at the controls.

Because they understand that, like Mt. Everest, when things go wrong down there, it is so hazardous to even any would-be rescuers that you will be on your own, and you will, almost certainly, die. And they may not even be able to retrieve your body, because that too is life-threatening to rescuers. Frankly, emergencies at the top of Mt. Everest are less dangerous than emergencies at the bottom of the ocean.

The ocean is actively trying to kill you down there. It's safer to visit space right now than it is to visit the bottom of the ocean. People haven't gone down there just to get a looky-loo. People are sent down there because there's certain things that only human eyes and senses can do, when it comes to research.

The deep ocean is not a place for fucking rich tourists to live out their James Cameron fantasies of seeing the prow come out of the darkness like in the movie. Whether you believe it's a gravesite that shouldn't be disturbed at all or not, tourists should not be goddamn down there.

Money won't save you at 12,000 feet at the bottom of the sea, motherfuckers. A divine miracle won't save them. But a miracle of human ingenuity, if there's some merciful force out there, just might.

[howtofightwrite]

If you’ve already answered this, I’m sorry. How much of a liability is long hair in a fight? I mean it probably depends on the skill of the fighters and the tendency to grab each other’s hair as well. Is long hair still dangerous if it’s tied back?

Not that much more of a liability than having long hair in any athletic or otherwise hazardous situation. The biggest risk is the hair getting in your face (which yeah, keeping your hair bound will reduce the risks.)

The irony is, the risk of an experienced fighter grabbing your hair is probably lower than the risk of them grabbing you some other way, simply because hair offers no joint control. If someone wants control over your head, they're better off grabbing your head directly, rather than trying to tug on your hair in the middle of a fight. Also, if someone is going after your head, they have to get past your defense. That's not something that's likely to happen unless the fight is going very poorly for you.

The liability with long hair isn't in the fight itself (at least not when anyone knows what they're doing), it's in the ambush. It's when the fight begins with them getting a hold of your hair. Especially from behind. As I mentioned, it's not as good as getting a solid grip on the target's skull, but, for someone who doesn't know what they're doing, it is an easy way to grab onto someone.

Similarly, if the victim doesn't know what they're doing, they may not understand how little control their attacker has over them, and that the only leverage their attacker has (from grabbing their hair) is the ability to inflict a bit of pain in the scalp.

There's a logistical problem with grabbing someone's hair. As mentioned, it doesn't really control them, so you're giving up one arm to mildly inconvenience them. You now only have one arm which you can use to attack or defend yourself. They have two arms that they can use to attack or defend themselves. Meaning, they have one hand to deal with your remaining arm, and another hand free for unrestricted strikes to your face. This is not a good position to be in.

Outside of hand to hand, the biggest danger is simply getting hair in your face. Which you would have had to deal with on a daily basis anyway. In that case, yes, binding it will take that out of the equation entirely.

So, how much of a liability? On its own not much. There are other potential situations where it could cause catastrophic problems, like if the hair gets caught in heavy machinery, or something similar. In that respect it's more of a liability in an industrial setting. It still means keeping your hair short, if you're expecting to fight, is a good idea, but it's not the end of the world. If you do have long hair, keeping it tied back (ideally in a bun), means it's very unlikely to be a problem at all. The end result is that while it's not a major problem, it is one that can be easily dealt with ahead of time, and probably should be, because while the risks are fairly limited, there's no reason to leave them unaddressed.

-Starke

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[dreamescapeswriting]

One Hell Of A Night ~ KTH [MATURE WARNING]

⤜ WORD COUNT: 2.4K

⤜ PAIRING: Taehyung x fem!Reader

⤜GENRE: established relationships, mafia AU (so no one will say anything about him fucking her lmao) SMUT MINORS DNI, public sex, very public, dirty talk, unprotected sex, lots of “good girls”, sloppy kisses, jealous taehyung

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - August 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

The bass thumped relentlessly, vibrating through the very foundations of the club, your hips moved in perfect time to the music though but Taehyung couldn't take his eyes off you. Neon lights sliced through the small mist that was in the room. Seriously, who thought that was a good idea. It was a choking hazard waiting to happen in Taehyung's opinion, but it did a good job of painting everything in flashes of electric blue, violet, and crimson. The air was thick with the scent of sweat, perfume, and the undeniable electricity of a Friday night crowd in full swing. 

Taehyung couldn't even remember the last time he'd been out on a night like this, it had to have been years ago but he was here now and he was only here for you. And even though clubs were never his scene, seeing you this happy was worth any discomfort he might have been feeling.

He nursed a glass of whiskey, the ice clinking softly as he swirled it, his usual cold demeanour temporarily thawed as he watched everyone in the club. 

It was as though he'd been on high alert ever since the two of you had arrived here. Telling you to have all the fun you wanted since he would be watching you. His attention was fixed on you on the dance floor, a small smile tugging on his lips as he watched you completely unwind. You were a vision of pure, unfiltered joy, the smile on your face was so large he was almost sure it had to have been hurting your cheeks. 

Your outfit was simple and yet seemed to be capturing everyone's attention inside of the club. The holster top shimmered with each movement, and the gold sequins kept catching the light and drawing every gaze in the room. The mini skirt swayed as you danced, each flow of your hips giving people a show that was meant to be for his eyes only but Taehyung couldn't help but smile.

It was a rare sight, his rugged face softening as he watched you. For you, he was a giant teddy bear, his harsh exterior melting away in your presence. Years ago he had sworn no one would ever be able to turn soft for anyone. Stating that the day that happened hell would surely freeze over and yet here he was. Soft for you and no one else.

This whole night had been entirely your idea, no one could ever convince Taehyung to do something he didn't want to...anyone except for you that was. You'd dragged him out tonight, insisting the two of you needed a break from the shadows of his world and to just relax, even if it was just one night of letting his hair down and dancing...Not that he was doing much of that right now.

But as the minutes ticked by, his smile began to falter. He noticed the way others looked at you, their eyes lingering too long, their intentions clear only making his possessiveness rise within him, his jaw tightening so much you could practically see the vein in his neck twitch.

"Boss..." Ivan, one of his most trusted guards said beside him. His eyes lingered on you as he waited for his boss to give him some kind of order.

"Should I get the miss something else to wear?" Ivan glanced back at Taehyung who shook his head. He'd promised you that you could wear whatever the fuck you wanted because you shouldn't have to cover up because dickheads in the clubs couldn't control themselves.

"She's fine," He bites out the words, his jaw once again ticking as he stares over at you. Completely oblivious to the attention you were attracting with each sway of your goddamn hips.

"She can wear whatever she wants because I know how to fight," A small smirk tugged on Taehyung's lips before he downed the rest of his drink, the ice clattering against the glass as he set it down with a firm thud. Ivan watched as his boss slowly rose from his seat and began to make his way over to you.

Taehyung pushed through the throng of bodies, his path clearing effortlessly as people recognized him and stepped aside, muttering to one another as soon as they saw him coming. Noticing that people were starting to take steps away from you, you glanced over and smirked seeing Taheyung making his way to you. Your eyes light up even more as you reached out for him, your fingers brushing his arm, and he catches your hand, pulling you close to him, people staring in complete shock.

No one in their right mind would have imagined Taehyung dancing, especially not in a club like this.

"You feeling okay?" You giggle a little as he pulls your body into him, your hips rocking against him as you feel how hard he is beneath his trousers. Your bodies moved together seamlessly, the heat between you palpable as you rolled your head back to rest on his chest. Taehyung's hands slid around your waist, pulling you against him as they swayed to the rhythm, making sure he ground himself against your ass, letting out a small groan as you smirked up at him. He loved you but he hated that you had so much control over him like this, it was like witchcraft or something.

He leaned in, his lips grazing your ear, his breath catching on your skin and making your knees buckle ever so slightly.

"You know you're driving me crazy, right?" he murmured, his voice a husky whisper. His eyes looking down at your shirt and staring at your breasts which were practically popping right out of the top of the shirt. He wanted nothing more than to rip it off and claim you in front of everyone.

Something that wasn't completely uncommon between the two of you, you couldn't count the times you'd had sex publically because he was jealous of people staring at you. And it might have been the reason you invited him out tonight in the first place.

You giggled, your fingers tangling in the short hair at the nape of his neck, rolling your hips once more as you smirked at yourself.

"That's the idea," you teased, your breath hitching as he kissed your neck, his lips trailing down to your collarbone as he let out a low growl making your whole body shiver.

"You think I won't take you in front of everyone, princess?" Your heart started to pick up as you glanced at everyone who was doing their best not to stare in your direction now. Their eyes were downcast as Taehyung smirked to himself, he liked that he had this control over people and it only made public sex with you all the more fun.

"What if I wanted you to?" You breathe out, your whole body heating up not because of how hot the club was.

"You want that princess?" He smirks, his confidence taking over as he runs his fingers down your hips toward your skirt, rubbing the fabric between his fingers.

"You want me to fuck you so hard everyone knows who you belong to?" He asked, his voice low and seductive as you practically turned to putty in his hands, nodding your head frantically.

He moved with a seductive confidence, his hands exploring your curves, his lips never straying far from your skin making you moan out softly as you shut your eyes, enjoying the feeling of being so close to him like this. The music, the lights, the people—they all became secondary to the two of you as you moved in perfect harmony.

"T-Tae...Please," You breathed out, your heart hammering against your chest as he slowly reached up your back, his eyes on everyone around you as he undid the top of your holster top, letting it drop and expose your breasts as he let out a growl.

"No bra?"

"It ruins the top," You giggled before he raked his hands up your chest, sucking on your neck as his hands began to massage and tug on your breasts. Twisting your nipples lightly as a string of soft moans left your throat. You'd needed this ever since you'd gotten dressed earlier that night.

Part of you had dressed the way you had, in hopes he'd force you to stay home and take his cock but this seemed even better in your mind right now.

"You're just asking for it from me, aren't you?" He whispered, his fingers slowly moving from your breasts and down to your skirt, flicking it up before he ran his fingers through your thong, moaning out lowly when he found out just how soaked you were.

"All for me?" He teased, running his fingers lightly over your clit but never enough to give you what it was you wanted. You knew his games, he wasn't going to give in to you until you told him what he wanted to hear from you.

"Always," You whine, grinding your hips onto his fingers as he smirks at you,

"Go on, princess. Get yourself off on my fingers," He urged, applying a tiny bit more pressure to your already sensitive bud and watching as you rocked yourself on his fingers in time to the music that was flowing around you. Your head rolled back against his chest as you continued to grind needily against his touch,

"T-Tae," You moan out, your eyes finding his as he smirked down at you. Completely captivated by the way you were, his eyes never left you as your legs began to shake from the pleasure you were feeling.

"Come for me, princess. Let everyone here know who makes you feel so good." He growls out, his fingers starting to move on your clit, your breathing sporadic as you nodded needily at him.

"Tae...Close," You cry out as your heart begins to pound harder, your legs trembling as you clutched onto his hand to steady yourself, your moans growing louder as your pussy clenched around nothing. Needing something as you whimpered his name out again,

"Come all over my fingers, princess. Make a mess." He orders in your ear, and as if on the command you do that. Coming all over his fingers, your body convulsing as you cried out his name loudly your head in the clouds.

"Good girl," He moans out, reaching his fingers up to his lips as he sucks them clean.

"Panties. Off." He ordered and you wasted no time, kicking them down your legs and kicking them somewhere else, not even paying attention to where they landed just frantic for him to get inside of you.

"Let's give everyone a show, huh? Let everyone know who owns this pretty little cunt." Taehyung bites out, unzipping his pants and freeing himself, the head of his cock already meeting your entrance as he teased himself with just the tip.

You mewled out in impatience, not wanting to be teased with just how needy you wanted him.

"Tae." You hiss out as he continued to only tease you with the head of his dick, earning a chuckle from him.

"You're the only one I'll let boss me around like this, you know that right?" He whispers in your ear, one hand on your hip while the other held his cock at your entrance, the tip pushed into you as you clenched around it.

"You're so fucking needy you're already clenching around my tip, princess." He smirks to himself, looking down between you and at your ass, wanting nothing more than to slam right into you but enjoying this too much. Teasing you until you were begging.

"Taehyung please...P-Please," You cry out, attempting to roll your hips back toward him but to no avail as he pulls away from you.

"Dirty little slut, you just won't fucking don't you?" You nodded at him before he shoved himself inside of you. A loud moan left his throat as he leaned his head down on yours, your moans growing louder than the music at that point.

Without even thinking you started to rock back on his hips, desperate for another orgasm you didn't care how many people watched the two of you.

"Look at you, fucking yourself with my cock," Taehyung moans out smugly, looking at you as you continued to fuck yourself,

"F-Fuck, princess. Just like that," He moans out, his head rolling back, he wanted to last longer for you but there was something about being watched and the way you just took what you wanted from him that drove him wild.

"S-So big," You moan out, running your fingers over your clit as Taehyung began to thrust inside of you. His hips unforgivingly fast as you cry out his name,

"T-Tae," You moan out, holding onto him as he continues to thrust rougher inside of you.

"Let everyone know owns this pretty fucking pussy, princess. Let everyone hear you." He moans out, thrusting into you relentlessly as your cries grow louder.

Your eyes glanced around at the people who watched, frozen in place as you smirked at him. The orgasm building inside of you only grows faster at the thought of everyone seeing you like this and only for Taehyung.

"You like this princess? You like them watching you get fucked while they can't do anything?" Taehyung moans out, replacing your fingers on your clit and moving them in small, quick circles making you squeal at him. Your legs were jelly as you clenched around his cock, earning a loud moan from him.

"Close...s-So fucking close," You cried out as he nodded his head at you,

"I can feel it, princess." He moans out, sweat dripping down his forehead,

"M-me too," He stutters a little as his thrusts getting frantic, unable to stop himself as you cry out loudly.

"S-Shit, I'm gonna cum." You cried out, your fingers digging into his skin leaving marks as you cum around him. Taehyung smirks as he looks up at people in the room, bottoming out inside of you as he finishes inside of you, grunting loudly as you giggle up at him.

"Feel better for that?" You whisper as he straightens you up, watching your thighs as his cum leaks down your skin.

"I am, now that everyone sees who owns you," He chuckles darkly, as he pulls you into his arms, pulling your top back up and covering you, quickly shooting Ivan a look to let him know to get the car so the two of you could go home.

Tagline: @chiisaiblog @sw33tnight @kaitieskidmore97 @laylasbunbunny @tinyoonsblog @whitefoxgirl @katnisspeetaprim @acciocriativity @wolfgurl2600 @choisoorin @heyjiminnie @btsiguess-kpop @alicejustwakeup @halesandy @gothic4under4lord @soulphoenix1618 @aerastus @jin-from-the-block @lenfilms @elizaschuyler18 @whitefoxgirl

[webslingingslasher]

Hey, you can do something like peter x fem!reader are dating could be fluff or smutt or both, i don't care love your writing <3

w: period/blood talk, small mention of suicidal thoughts but nothing explicit!

It’s been a good run. 

You and Peter had a great year and a half relationship, it sucks you won’t make it until the second year. It was close too, you were actually in a year and an eight month relationship.

Or, you used to be. Not anymore, the only way this ends is with getting dumped or ending your life. You’ve been eyeballing the bathtub for half an hour thinking about the best way to waterboard yourself. 

It was all Peter’s fault. 

He’s easier to blame right now because he’s passed out in snooze town, blissfully unaware of the hazardous waste material seeping into his bedsheets. It was a surprise, you weren’t supposed to get your period yet. Although that is a risk you take when you switch birth control pills, and that makes this your boyfriend's fault. Because if he wasn’t so delicious and tempting you wouldn’t need birth control, or to change them and therefore would’ve never bled on his sheets. 

Oh god. 

You bled on his sheets. 

You’ve been blinking back tears since you discovered it. It was a jumpstart, you thought you really had to pee but felt an uncomfortable slick. You know what it was, you prayed you caught it in time, you failed. It was soaked into his sheets, dots on the comforter and it soiled your pajama pants, let alone your underwear. 

You choked back a heavy breath and blankly stepped to the bathroom where you were stuck with no clothes, you settled for resting a pad in your underwear until you gathered the balls to wake your boyfriend and have him throw his disgust in your face. 

Peter’s never been mean or shy about your period, but it’s another thing to be woken up by it. Especially if your girlfriend cuddled you and left a stain on the side of your white shirt. 

Your lower lip wobbles, you hold a hand over your mouth to help stop the sobs. 

Your head whipped to the bathroom door when you heard three light taps, “baby?” 

You played silent, it was dumb. He knows you’re in here and he knows you’re awake and he knows you’ve ruined his bedsheets and shirt. 

“You okay?” His tone is gentle, he can empathize how embarrassing this is for you. He doesn’t mind one bit, he just wants to know you’re okay and not thinking he’s upset. 

“Yeah.” A squeak, he pursed his lips on the other side. 

“Need anything to wear?” 

And that did it for you. 

You sob hard, in an instant Peter wriggles the doorknob, you shriek out to him, you don’t care if May’s sleeping, you have to keep him out. 

“No! No, no, no! Don’t come in.” 

His heart hurts, “what can I do?” 

Silence, he hears muffled cries. Peter tries to think if the situations were reversed and tries one last time. 

A knock just as gentle the first time rings your ears, you listen but don’t think you’ll be able to respond. 

“Hey, trouble. I’m gonna wash the sheets, alright? I’ll bring you some clothes and you can take a shower, sound good?” You bite your lip and nod, then speak out. “Sounds good.” 

When you were in the middle of shampooing you heard the bathroom door crack open and you could see your boyfriend's figure on the outside of the curtain. He set down fresh towels on the counter and added a stack of clean clothes, before leaving. 

It was when you were drying off your body when you noticed he took your dirty clothes too to wash them, it made you feel shy. You didn’t want to face him again. 

—---------------------

Peter was back in bed, new sheets atop his mattress. His right arm cocked behind his head lifted him up as he watched something on his laptop. His eyes skirted up when you floated into his peripheral and met you with a warm smile, it made you feel worse. 

You shuffled towards his bed, scared to get back in it. 

“Wanna watch a movie or go back to bed?” 

You woke him up. You woke him up with blood and drama and grossness, he should be disgusted with you. He even changed his shirt, he knows you got it all over him like some sick demon. 

“Movie.” 

Peter counted ten minutes and you were stiff as a board in bed and hadn’t said a word, let alone look at him. He’s your boyfriend for christ's sake, if you were too scared to talk to him about this then he thinks he’s failing. 

He pushed the laptop further down the middle of the bed and shuffled right into you, his arms wrapped around your head and he pressed a kiss to the crown. 

“‘M not mad, or upset, or grossed out or anything. I am sad you’re sad and scared to look at me.” 

“Why aren’t you mad at me?” 

You were vulnerable but he still laughed, he didn’t mean to, it just came out. 

“Why would I be?” 

He placed another kiss, “I mean, tell me. Did you know it was coming?” 

“No.” 

“Did you hold it in until you reached my bed?” 

“No.” 

“Was it an accident?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Yeah. We don’t get mad at accidents, they’re accidents for a reason, trouble. No one plans ‘em.” 

Your words bubble out, “but it’s gross!” 

Another laugh, he wriggles his cheek against the top of your head. “To who? Not me, I know you’re not talking to me. Because if I remember correctly there's been more than a few times period sex has come up.” 

You grip his arms, “but you’re prepared then, you were ambushed when you woke up.” 

“Babe, it was like a dollar quarter’s worth of blood, I’ve gotten worse papercuts.” 

You sniffle, “you mean it?” 

A kiss to your hairline, “that’d be a really, really dumb dealbreaker.” 

[modelbus]

why do requests when I can post the most random things in existence?

Pairing: CEO!Simon Ghost Riley x Gn!Reader

Workplace Hazards

"I'm resigning."

The jerk of a head, and dark eyes meet your light ones. 

There should be books written on the way those dark eyes narrow at you, daring you to contradict his next words. Knowing you will. But nobody else understands these patterns, these games, quite the same way you do.

You suppose that makes you the would-be author of the books.

"No you aren't." His voice is solid, leaving no room for arguing.

You find room anyways.

"Yes, I am."

I'm the absence of an immediate response, your eyes dip to his desk. You walked into this office with one plan in mind, and you’ll be damned if it's ruined because he's easy on the eyes.

His wooden desk, as usual, is neatly organized. A stack of perfectly crisp papers sit under an elegant pen, right next to the keyboard connected to his computer. Your eyes carefully avoid looking at the placard sat on his desk.

You knows what it says anyways. The same thing is on his door that you barged through just minutes before.

Simon Riley - CEO

Finally, your eyes flick back to him.

"And why the fuck,” he says, voice carefully measured, "would that be?"

"You know why."

Simon’s—Mr. Riley’s—jaw clenches, a muscle ticking. 

When you were hired into this office, nearly everyone had warned you that this very man was, simply put, an asshole. And he was. 

He yelled at workers, he refused to budge. There were days where his glare was so strong you were terrified that standing in his sight for too long would kill you.

But it didn't. Not when his eyes softened, not when his voice became gentler than you ever knew possible.

"Humor me." It's a demand more so than a request from him.

You sigh. “Just let me resign. Let me quit."

"Why the hell would I do that?"

You have to swallow to stop yourself from repeating your earlier response. He knows why. You both know it better than the backs of your own hands. 

Simon raises an eyebrow, motioning for you to speak with a pissed expression. You don’t.

He runs a slow and deliberate hand through the carefully messy blond hair on top of his head, making you glance away. This felt like a slap in the face to you, to everything you were trying to do.

"I'm not letting you resign." Simon says slowly. “You’re not resigning.”

"I'm not asking you to let me." You immediately respond.

It's his turn to look away this time. Almost instinctively your eyes fall down to the slope of his neck, past the scars, further to the silver chain necklace.

Your lips, pressed to the soft skin of his neck. He was all you could taste, all you could smell. He was going to kill you, just like this. Suffocate you with everything he was.

If his hands didn't get you first, that was.

"If this is over the other night, I can assure you-"

"It's not." You say stiffly. "Well, not entirely."

The other night, when every last wall between you two came down.

Simon Riley was an enigma at best, and the world's biggest dickhead at worst. To everyone that wasn't you, that is.

Because somewhere along turning in reports and weekly check-ins, something shifted. Something that turned into walks home, idle chats, you knowing his childhood friends called him Ghost.

True surprise flashes over his face before it's gone again. Faintly, you wonder if anyone else would've caught that emotion. Another part of you mourns the idea that someday, someone else will.

"Then what is this about?" 

You take a deep breath. "The rumors."

"The... rumors?" He repeats, an edge of confusion overriding the control.

For a second, you pause, realizing your mistake. Of course he didn't listen to the office rumors. Idle gossip around here would never be his style, no matter what happened.

He didn't know the rumor going around.

"What rumors?" He repeats, and something's shifted in his voice now. Panic. He's panicking. Simon Riley never panics.

Simon pushes himself halfway to his feet before you manage to find your words again.

"The entire office thinks I'm sleeping with you for a promotion."

He collapses back down into his chair.

You’re left to stand, wondering if this is what the wreckage of a car crash looks like. Maybe it'd be easier if it was a real wreck. Not... this. Not whatever's been going on between you and him.

It's will-you and won't-he, a vice-like grip on your heart that you just can't seem to shake. It's the memory of his laugh, low and smooth, the first time you made him laugh. It's his goddamn lips against yours.

You think you might kneel over dead in his office.

"Ah." He says, missing his usual eloquence. "They're just rumors."

"Partly true rumors."

You meet his eyes, daring him to deny it. He doesn't.

From the second his hand landed on your waist that night, you both knew you were too fragile to forget what was going to happen. Going back was never an option.

"But the others don't know that. Just fucking ignore them."

You shake your head. "You don't get it. These rumors may not touch you, but for me—"

"If anyone's giving you shit over them, tell me." He's quick to speak, pure anger in his voice. He's pissed at the very idea. 

"You can't change 7.8 billion people, Si- Mr. Riley."

"Don't do that." Before you can even ask him to elaborate, he stands. "Don't step back like that, don't reduce me to Mr. Riley again."

This time, you have to fully turn away. How are you meant to quit him like this?

"The rumors can and will ruin my career." You tell the photos on the walls. They're of places, not people. Simon Riley doesn't do photos of people.

"No they won't."

"I've been working my ass off to show people that I've earned everything I've gotten. I'm not going to throw that away on- on-"

"On me."

You wish you didn't know him well enough to detect the undercurrent of hope. You wish a lot of things that can never happen. 

You wish you couldn't hear his footsteps rounding the desk. His presence behind you is like a force of nature, a gravitational pull you can't get rid of for the life of you.

"You promised you wouldn't run away from me."

It was a stupid promise to make to him. 

"My job comes first and you know it. It's the same way with you."

"At least give me the dignity of looking at me." His hand lands on your arm, tugging you around to see him. "I'll get HR off your back, so stop trying to quit."

"It's not HR!" You exclaim, frustration overtaking you. 

"Don't lie and tell me you suddenly give a damn what the others think." He glowers at you, eyebrows lowering as a frown tugs at his mouth. You frown right back at him.

"I do when it's my job on the line."

"Bullshit. They-" he makes a motion to his door, "-don't decide shit here. I do. And I'm not going to let you go."

"Actually, I decide what I do with my life, which is why I'm resigning." 

His expression drops, falling from anger straight into despair before he fixes it. Your heart leaps into your throat.

Simon still has his hand on your arm, and you’re all too aware of that. Every point of contact you have right now prickles with electricity.

"You're throwing away your job. This is the stupidest move I've ever seen you make, and you've done a lot of stupid shit."

"Actually," the words are flowing out of your mouth before you can stop them, "I think the stupidest move I've made was kissing you."

His hand drops from your arm like he's burned, like your words struck him as a physical blow. You regret them immediately, but it's too late.

"Simon, wait—"

"No." He shakes his hand, steps back, adjusts his tie. "If you regret it so much, you should've stopped a long time ago."

You stare helplessly up at him. "I know." You murmur. “I know."

After a long moment you clear your throat, holding out a pink paper. "My letter of resignation."

He takes it, glancing over it. 

For just a moment, you think he'll actually let you go. Let you walk away from him and this company like nothing ever happened between you two. Like you didn't see him and love everything he gave you.

And then he rips it in half, crumbles it, and tosses it out the window.

"Get back to work." He says roughly, turning away and walking the few steps back to his desk.

"I'll print another." You threaten uselessly.

"And I'll rip up another." He raises his eyebrows at you.

"I'll send twenty to your house."

"You show up at my house, darlin’."

You could kill him. Right now, with your bare hands, you’re so tempted to lunge.

This is dangerous.

This is what led you to the other night, the addictive rush they found existed between you two. You should step back. Try again later, maybe call a workers union or something.

But you won't, and he knows that better than anyone else.

"Why are you like this?" You exclaim. The cocky cover he hid under was infuriating.

Simon Riley was like a goddamn sink hole someone tried to cover up. You break through the first layer of assholeness to find another layer of cockiness.

And when you break through that one, there's nothing to stop you from falling.

"Why are you so insistent on making a stupid decision?" He snaps back. "We fucked. The office thinks they know. So what?"

"So it'll ruin me!"

"And it won't ruin me?" 

You scoff, rolling your eyes. your arms cross over your chest at the pure nerve has to say that.

"Please. You're the CEO, your job is—"

"I'm not talking about my job."

Your breath catches, and you’re suddenly aware of how hard you’re both breathing. Simon takes a rugged breath in, eyes on you.

"What do I have to do to get you to stay?"

You could have anything and everything. You know that if you asked in this moment, he'd offer everything.

It's power you never wanted.

His connections could get you meeting celebrities, and as the CEO he could promote you to places you never thought you’d get. His offer of bribery was too good for a person to pass up, even with the current rumor. 

But...

His eyes, normally so reserved, are soft. If eyes were truly windows to the soul, his windows were wide open.

"This isn't because I'm the CEO, right?" He murmurs into your hair, breath warm. 

"No. Not this."

You swallow, and shakes your head. "Nothing."

"Don't let this rumor ruin this."

"Ruin what?"

You tilt your head up, eyes locking onto his. You need this response more than you’ve ever needed anything before.

Because you woke up and left him. 

You didn't talk about what happened between you two. Not when you saw each other in the office, not when you sent him a cat meme and he sent you a dog meme. This thing between you didn't have a name, and you were shriveling up.

You watch him swallow, suddenly put on the spot to define what you are. 

And he can't.

So you turn away, moving to leave his office. What's the point of listening to him if he doesn't even know why you shouldn't leave? 

Simon moves quicker than you though, placing himself between you and his office door. 

"Si—"

"I want to take you to dinner." He says, and you stop talking. "I want you to get dressed up nice just for me, and I want to go on a date. On a thousand dates. And I want to kiss you during every one, take you home, and wake up next to you. I’m not built for it, love, but I fucking want it.”

More. 

He wants to be more.

He takes a step closer to you, and you don’t even try to move or step back.

"I'm the CEO." He breathes, tilting your chin up. "I get everything I want, except you, and it's driving me so fucking crazy."

How are you meant to respond to that? Is there even a response yoj can give? 

There's raw emotion in his voice, his touch. For someone who you’ve seen yell at coworkers with no remorse, he's only been painfully gentle to you. 

So you do the only thing you can: you wrap his tie in your hand and tug him closer, crashing your lips onto his.

He presses you into him with a hand on the small of your back, greedily taking everything you’re giving him. After a moment he pulls back slightly, eyes searching yours.

"Don't kiss me like this is goodbye, love."

"Isn't it?"

"Fuck no." He says fiercely. "I'll tell the office, the entire goddamn world, that we're together and to leave you the fuck alone."

"They'll think I'm only where I am because I'm dating the boss."

"Are you happy?" He asks abruptly. 

"I- what?"

"Are you happy?"

After a moment, you dip your head slightly in a nod.

"Then why do you give a fuck what they think?"

Before you can respond with some logical response, he kisses you and all thoughts fly from your head. Your grip tightens on his tie, and he grins into the kiss slightly.

"So?" He questions.

"...I withdraw my letter of resignation." You sigh after a beat.

"There we go."

[solarisfortuneia]

— grace and coordination? who?

them with a clumsy reader. (ft. kaeya, thoma, tighnari, diluc, alhaitham, ayato, zhongli, childe.)

notes: pinkie swear this'll be the last repost for a while, bc i'm working on some new stuff mwah <3

kaeya's reaction to your mishaps depends on the situation. sometimes he's literal prince charming, the very picture of concern and worry. and other times, when you're not in a lot of danger— like when you've tripped down a set of four stairs, for example— he'll try really really hard to keep a straight face to protect your feelings.

over time, he'll develop a sense of when and where accidents are most likely to happen and take measures to either remove the obstruction, or guide you away from it entirely. however, if the situation is inevitable, he'll try his best to catch you. one downside though— or upside, depending how you see it— is that he'll always hit you with an overused, cliché line.

"looks like you're falling for me all over again, sweetheart."

this sweet, sweet boy is the most worried of all. initially, thoma thinks every scratch and every bruise is a consequence of something serious, but soon learns that they're most probably a result of your klutziness. even if you stumble lightly and regain your balance, he's instantly at your side, asking you if you're alright. he won't just take you at your word though, he'll check you himself from head to toe, and only then will he be satisfied.

he'll also carry bandages, antiseptic liquid, lotion, anything he thinks you might need. his pockets are endless. he'll even have small treats to console you after a bad fall.

"oh, dear! here, let me help you up. no injuries? good. here's a candy to cheer you up."

frankly, he's exasperated. and also very concerned. whenever you bump your head on a branch or fall backwards on your butt, he just sighs and shakes his head before helping you. he knows you're no careless fool, just very prone to unlucky incidents, so he'll spare you the lecture.

tighnari is a firm believer in the fact that prevention is better than cure. so, he'll make sure your footwear is comfortable and supportive and make you change if any parts of your outfit have the potential to be a tripping hazard. if you wear glasses, he'll remind you to keep your prescription up to date. all in all, he'll minimize the possibility of you tripping due to things in your control.

"you'll trip on that robe of yours if you walk outside wearing it. go put on something else, i'd rather not see you fall into a hole in the ground again."

diluc never expresses anything because he'd rather not come off as overbearing, but he's very careful with you. you can see it in the way he brings a hand to the edge of the table to stop you from hitting your head when you bend to pick up a spoon you knocked off the table, the way he keeps any sharp objects out of your reach, the way he's always scanning his surroundings.

he'll find himself doing all that even when you're not with him, and he'll be glad you weren't there to witness that. he'll baby proof his entire house just for you, and if he can, he'll baby proof yours too. he's the type to use the high quality silk handkerchief he carries around to bandage a scuffed knee.

"don't worry about it, cloth can be washed. the injury should be our first priority."

there is no question alhaitham can't answer and no puzzle he can't solve, except, of course, the conundrum of how you manage to stumble over air, or slip on a completely dry surface. he'll observe you carefully, try his best to figure it out but eventually he'll chalk it up to circumstances being arranged against you.

he takes matters into his own hands and just fixes said circumstances for you. beyond that, he knows he cannot do much. he has the uncanny ability to know exactly when you're about to do something where you'll end up with a bump on your head, even if you're miles apart. he's also not too worried, he knows that a tumble isn't the end of the world. the problem only arises when you don't get back up again.

he'll firmly refuse to go dancing with you though, both for his sake and yours. he'll turn you down gently and suggest alternatives.

"dance with you? i'm not sure that's such a great idea. how about we spend the evening at the café?"

kamisato ayato is grace, elegance and perfection. so it comes as a surprise to most of inazuma when they see that his partner is a walking disaster. he's fond of this trait of yours though; he thinks it's endearing. he's also very forgiving if you happen to step on his toes or bump into him. he has no issues replacing anything you break on accident too.

he knows he cannot personally keep an eye on you, so he'll have someone watch over you from afar to make sure nothing serious happens.  that's not to say he won't tease you, no. even though he knows the answer, he'll always ask playfully about any recent 'misfortune' you've been a part of every time he sees you.

"ah, there you are. have you fulfilled your daily quota of disaster for the day? now now, don't give me that look, you know i'm just teasing~"

he's unfazed, really. he's seen many types of people and creatures over the years, from the most poised rulers to the most unsteady fawns. one thing he does do for you is carefully consider any gifts he's thinking of giving to you, and dismisses the item if it has pointy corners or is fragile.

zhongli's the type to fall with you so you're not alone. he was once a powerful archon, a little accident in a busy hall is nothing for him. and seeing him mimic you with a stoic face to help you feel better is always a treat to witness. then, he'll dust himself off as if nothing happened, and offer you a hand.

"think nothing of it, dearest. i simply wish to accompany you on any journey i can, even if it is a short one to the floor."

childe's first and foremost reaction is to laugh when you hit your head on a pillar right in front of you, then he'll chuckle at the face you make at him when you're offended. he can't help it! it reminds him way too much of his siblings.

he sincerely promises, with a hand over his heart, to kiss any boo-boos better. and he'll insist on lifting you in his arms, and won't take no for an answer.

"no buts! i'm carrying you home like this. after all, the best way to stop you from tripping is to make sure your feet don't touch the ground, wouldn't you agree?"

[panbotter]

Hey so in reference to my previous ask, can you do one were the reader is having trouble controlling their powers (you can decide those) and either Kurt or Erik comfort them after a bad day and end up confessing to the reader. You can ad smut if you want but if not that's totally fine too☺️.

Your Existence is Grand

Erik Lehnsherr x gn!reader

Erik notices you having a rough day with your powers and decides to shower you with praise.

(This is my first fanfic literally ever so feedback appreciated, but also... Sorry for any mistakes!!!!)

Trigger warnings: cursing, suggestive themes (I don't know what else to write here, pls let me know if there's anything else I should add!)

The air around me begins buzzing and crackling, becoming charged with electricity and I sigh, deeply frustrated before I reach for the metal doorknob in front of me and receive a shock so strong that all the muscles in my arm cramp up painfully. I curse under my breath, forcing my arm to bend and stretch the tense muscles as I walk into the lounge, getting a glimpse of the others outside. Some might say I’d been gifted with a particularly powerful mutation, that it made me strong and intimidating. That I am admired for it, as if it’s a blessing to be grateful for.

But in this god-forsaken world, all I could see was a curse that plagued my body. I never bothered to understand the science behind it, as much as others might have tried to explain it to me. Something about the electricity in my body behaving abnormally, affecting the air around me and in turn, other electronics or conductors of electricity, turning me into a walking hazard around power lines, or thunderstorms. Let's not even mention the sheer amount of electrical fires I’ve caused. Sure, it sounds cool. But the reality is basically hell.

One of the ‘best’ parts about my mutation is that it is terribly unstable, especially when you’re constantly surrounded by electricity no matter where you go. Everyone else who charges up some static then touches a piece of metal receives a little sting from a silly little shock. It might be a little funny or perhaps surprising! Maybe it happens when you touch fingers with someone else and you shock each other, what a cute moment!

Try getting fucking electrocuted every single time.

Nowhere near as cute, nor as fun.

Some days are worse than others and the more restless I become, the worse it is for me in the end. But unfortunately, I can’t lay in bed immobile for an entire day to lower the voltage my body is producing, resulting in my current conundrum. Avoiding the rest of the X-Men in order to avoid any potential accidents, especially with Jubilee. Fireworks and a highly-charged mutant body surrounded by a bunch of high-tech only spells out bad news. Luckily, it seems like most of them were outside on the basketball court. That’s what I thought, at least.

“I take it you’re having a bad voltage day?” the voice of none other than Magneto startles me out of my thinking. It’s been more than a few months of him living here with us, but his presence is still unexpected. I had a hard time training the knee-jerk defensive reaction out of my body for the first few days, my body becoming charged up so quickly that I wouldn’t even have the chance to blink before I shot a bolt of electricity at him.

He was quick to show that a little spark didn’t do much to him, given that he was essentially a walking magnetic field.

I turn to him, his large form standing at the entrance to the lounge, “What makes you say that?” I turn back to watch as Scott and Logan start another argument, their voices muffled by the glass.

“The air keeps crackling and I have a hard time believing there’s a storm inside the building” he approaches until he pauses at my side. I chuckle a little, giving a wince once I feel my sore muscles constrict. He turns to watch me.

“Hm, I don’t know, maybe Storm has had enough of those two at each other’s throats” I try to joke but my voice falters, as my heart begins to race again and the sound of the air buzzing around me becomes overwhelming. Tremors begin rippling across my muscles, a mixture of them cramping and relaxing too fast for me to keep up with. Losing the strength in my legs, I stretch a hand out toward the glass in front of me to hold myself up but I miss the glass by a couple inches. Erik’s hands are quick to grab onto my arms before pulling me into his chest, supporting my weight as the crackling noise fills my ears and I let out a pained shout. My body releases a strong burst of electricity, most of it absorbed by Erik’s magnetic field, whilst the rest causes the power in the building to go out. I pant loudly, trying to catch my breath, feeling like my heart might’ve stopped in the middle of that.

The lights flicker around us before the power in the school hums back to life. Erik’s hands are still around me, I realize before beginning to step away, but his hold on me tightens. He pulls me back against his chest and I try to fight back the heat that’s slowly creeping up to my face. This is a bit embarrassing. I’ll admit it, I had grown to like Erik in the time he’d been with us, not to mention I had quite a few run-ins with him before I ever joined the X-Men. He always seemed so… Powerful, he always felt safe to be around. As radical as the Professor may claim he is, he always seemed… Right. You could hear the passion in his voice when he spoke of mutantkind and it made you want to side with him, to be loyal and to follow him to the ends of the Earth.

He had a powerful presence, and as I am now discovering, a powerful touch. One of the very few people who could come near me without fear of being electrocuted. My muscles had begun to twitch in the aftermath of the shock. These are the unfortunate moments where I wish I could be rid of my mutation. I could barely hold myself up and here I was in Erik’s arms.

“You should be resting” his voice was stern, but there was a hint of concern in there. I raise my gaze to meet his, feeling a bit of shame.

“I can’t just lay in bed all day, the world is still turning, there’s things to do…” I muttered.

“Precisely, the world is still turning and it will still continue to turn if you are at rest. You, on the other hand, are not a planet and you need to care for yourself”

I stare into his eyes, feeling them pierce through my soul. He always seemed to be right about everything… I chuckle under my breath as I regain some strength in my legs, straightening back up.

“I’m sure you must be tired of having to run after all of us like a babysitter” I joke as his arms come to rest on my shoulders once I’m stable on my feet.

A glint crosses his eyes, “I do wonder how Charles managed, and then I remember he’s a telepath, so it must’ve been quite easy for him” he replies with a smirk gracing his face that makes me laugh a little.

“He still struggled, you shouldn’t compare yourself to the Professor”

He begins to lead me toward the couch behind us, helping me take a seat before joining me. I still feel a hot streak of shame across my stomach, having him help me. Burdening him.

“Sorry, by the way… You’re right, I should be a little more considerate of others” I mutter.

Erik turns to look at me as I avoid making eye contact, “I don’t believe those were my words…” his hand reaches out toward my chin, gently turning my head to face him, “I only ask of you to rest and care for yourself, forget what the others may think”

I blinked up at him, “The Professor always wanted me to push past my limits, so that I can perhaps get stronger… Control my powers better”

“In a perfect world, you wouldn’t have to restrict your abilities, you could rule this planet with a wave of your hand, what you have is something to be proud of, not ashamed” he places his hand against my cheek and I find myself leaning against his warm touch, “Your mutation is a blessing, not a curse”

I scoff, “Sure doesn’t feel that way, I can’t even live among humans without shutting down an entire city’s power”

“Your powers shouldn’t be hidden, controlled, or restricted for the sake of humanity” he says the word with disdain, “but those are my beliefs, your existence is grand mein liebling”

My heart thumps against my chest loudly at his words. It feels… Intimate. How could he speak such high praise toward me?

“I see you hurt and I watch as you restrain yourself around others, as your mutation basically eats your body alive and it pains me…” his eyes gaze across my face, pausing at my lips before trailing back up to my eyes, “It pains me that you live in a world where you feel you cannot rest, where you feel you must hide the power within you”

“Erik…” I whisper, almost afraid to shatter the moment between us, “What are you… What are you saying…?” I peer into his eyes, seeing something brewing behind his gaze. Could it be possible that he’s… No, there’s no way.

“What do you believe I’m saying?” he whispers softly, leaning in toward me. I jump as a few sparks fly out from where he has his hand on my cheek. I can’t help my eyes dropping to his lips before rising back up to his eyes.

I feel the tension rise and in a desperate attempt to avoid it, I joke, “If I was delusional, I might think you’re trying to confess to me right now” I laugh a little to dispel the tension. His gaze was still just as intense so I failed, but I tried my best.

A smile graced his features, “Yes… Perhaps if you were delusional, you might see that I am actually confessing my feelings for you right now” he says it so casually I almost think he’s playing along with my joke, but as my eyes widen, so does his smile.

“Are you…?” my voice wavers a little. I feel my heart drop, realizing he’s probably joking with me. I turn away from his hand, lightly pushing his chest to put distance between us.

“Is this some sort of joke? Come on, Erik… You know that’s… It’s unrealistic” I mutter, a man like him would never love someone like me, that’s not how it works… Maybe in the movies, or in a fairytale perhaps.

“Mein liebling, perhaps I haven’t been clear enough with you” he wraps his arms around my shoulders and pulls me in close, closer than before, “do you prefer a visual demonstration instead? I can give you that, you only need to ask” he smiles before slowly leaning in, giving me enough time to back out if I wished, but I find myself leaning in, eager to feel his lips against mine.

As soon as our lips locked together, sealed at last, a burst of electric sparks flew out from our lips and I giggled into the kiss. I mean, how ironic is that? I felt real, literal sparks and fireworks from the kiss and it made my lips tingly. Erik smiles into the kiss before deepening it, his hand rising up toward my hair while the other trailed down my back and I found myself desperate to be closer to him, wrapping my arms around his neck, clumsily climbing over to sit on his lap. We part right as I begin losing my breath and he trails a burning, tingly trail of kisses down my jaw before he stops by my ear.

With a whisper that blew across the nape of my neck, “I see more than just greatness in you, so much more…” The words are charged with intention, passion, and sincerity. I shudder as the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end and I bite back a moan as he continues kissing down my neck. I take a sharp breath in as he begins sucking on a tender spot before I suddenly realize what we’re doing…

Where we’re doing it.

I turn slightly to peek at the windows, making sure the others are still thoroughly distracted with playing before I feel Erik bite my skin and a moan breaks out, “Wait! Erik… We’re… In the lounge…”

He lifts his head, and the dark look in his blue eyes makes me clench my legs in anticipation, “We’ll just have to be fast… And quiet… Can you do that?” He taunts me with a question I don’t even get the chance to answer before he lays me down on the couch, climbing over me, “I’m just helping you relax, that’s not a sin, is it?” He looks down at me with a hungry gaze and I feel my cheeks burn.

“I guess not”

“Show me what else you can do with these sparks of yours”

[yandere--stuck]

Safety Hazard - Yandere!TFP!Ratchet x Human!Reader

You can't move. Can't speak. Can't even turn your head as you stare straight above you. You're too tired, but can't seem to fall asleep, either. A permanent state of disorientation and exhaustion as you try to make sense of the blue lights shining above you.

You flinch when something cold and metal makes contact with your face, body breaking into shivers as goosebumps pimple up over your skin.

"You are so cute, human…" Ratchet sighs, voice near a purr rumbling throughout his body, even to the singular digit that softly traced your face.

He knows he should use your name, but something about addressing you as 'human' makes something in his spark fizzle and burn. His little human. Almost like a toy, with how you lay so still and pliant on his medical berth.

All his.

The human body is so interesting. What Ratchet finds most fascinating is how susceptible your species is to chemical mixtures. Muscle relaxants and sleeping medicines slipped into a drink or meal before the team is supposed to head out for the day…

Now, he finally has one-on-one time with you. He didn't have the courage to confess to you, yet. And he's even more embarrassed to confess to his friends that he had feelings for you. For a human.

So, really, this is just practice! Practice for when it was finally the right time to confess to you. And when if you rejected him, he would have these memories to sustain him. Or, at least, he hoped they would. He'd done this plenty of times now, after all. Another great weakness of the human mind was that it lacked reliability when it came to accuracy and storage of memory, unlike a Cybertronian's.

A dark pulse of shame at the thought echoes throughout Ratchet's frame. In fact, maybe… Maybe this should be the last time.

"I love you so much," Ratchet confesses softly, as if that makes up for it. Gently, he moves his digit to settle against one of your pliant hands. Reflexively, your fingers flex. A shudder quakes you. The closest thing he can get to holding hands with you.

Part of him holds back because he knows there's so little he can do with you. But, an old bot like him can dream, can't he? Can dream of being young again. Before the war. When he was young, full of life and full of love.

And as much as he knows it will probably never work and that he should stop, he can't help himself. Ratchet wants more of you.

He vents shakily, looking over you as you rest on the berth. Slowly, he lifts himself onto the berth, crawling onto his stabilizers. He towers over you. And it both terrifies and electrifies him. Just being like this, close to you, you in his care, it's the most alive he's felt in years.

He's careful, though. Always, always careful. Careful never to hurt you. Careful to give the correct doses. Careful not to let you on to how he feels. Always so careful. So, so careful, it's exhausting.

Just once. He just wants to take one risk, and it'll be enough to last him an eternity. Ratchet puts all his weight on one servo as he used his other to slowly, carefully, cup your head. Just one, and it'll be enough.

"My human, if you love me back," Ratchet leans forward, daring to close his eyes. "Kiss me."

He lifted you up, nearly locking up as he felt the warmth of your lips on his dermas. You're perfect. So, so perfect. And so warm. So human.

Slowly, his servo roamed down your back, lifting you up closer to him, burying his face against your body as he peppered your face with kisses, sighing happily as he fully descended into the fantasy of you wanting him back, of loving him in return, of you being in control of his actions and not just forgetting this whole thing the moment you reawaken.

He hums as the shivers slowly melt away and you're once again pliant from the warmth of his heating helm and servos. He nearly becomes lost in pressing up against you. Trying to get closer. Closer. As close as a human and Cybetronian can get and maybe closer. Like he wants to hide you inside, keep you close to his spark.

Ratchet remembers himself, shaking the sparkstruck feeling off as he lays you back down against the berth, the mech being extra careful as he clambers down. Thank goodness no one was there to see that, how wreckless of him! No one should climb on a medical berth like that. You both could have gotten hurt…

As he watches you drift off to recharge- 'sleep', Ratchet finds himself lost in fantasies of doing this with you again very soon.

[gunpowderdtim]

i wonder what me and @miralines rpverse ouatisblr would look like

10 notes

🌅 atypicalarielien follow 🔁 antiroyalribbons follow

🤡 normalpeopleonly follow

dni if you think that freckles luck should in ANY way be involved in goverment. i mean she's a rose red why should we ever trust that? theyre all monsters i thought this was well established when they FUCKING KILLED US FOR 30 YEARS??? wtf

🥀 antiroyalribbons follow

uh freckles luck did NOT spend 30 fucking years fighting for the rebels for you to call her a rose red. she's made it clear she's just a normal person dozens of times what is WRONG with you

🤡 normalpeopleonly follow

she's still a fucking clone. they put chips in their brains, did you know that? theyre all mind controlled and shit why should we ever fucking trust one. with fucking government programs. i dont care if she 'seems' 'normal' she's just a rose red. i dont get why they didn't kill them all anyway

🥀 antiroyalribbons follow

SHE'S A WAR VETERAN?????? BRUH. you owe your freedom to her she helped kill the fucking king?????

⚫ zanti-deactivated02334432

I think mentioning she assisted the new regime is unnecessary. RR-11678 betrayed the crown in 4395. I think either way she should be shot. Rose Reds, especially defective ones are a hazard. She betrayed the king once. If the new "president" Marion Belle were any sort of intelligent she would have her killed. She betrayed once. She could do it again.

🥀 antiroyalribbons follow

oh now the crown loyalists are here. @normalpeopleonly look what you attracted. this is why we shouldn't give people like op energy

🌅 atypicalarielien follow

bros stop reblogging this it has captain luck fucking id in it she's said like twice to stop spreading that information further...

1,312 notes

🌅 atypicalarielien follow 🔁 zanti2 follow

🌅 atypicalarielien follow

you guys ever think about how hot rose reds are 😳🏳️‍🌈

🪙 zanti2 follow

they are not people.

🌅 atypicalarielien follow

motherfucker you made an alt just to harass me i get it you're a crown loyalist why dont you go suck coles dick. oh wait. he's dead. maybe you should join him

5 notes

🥀 antiroyalribbons follow

everyone should read Althea Black's new book: The Army With a Single Face: Firsthand Accounts of Rose Reds in the Crown War. it really puts the whole war from the perspective of a rose red into mind. really fucked up.

123 notes

🟥 realredhood follow 🔁 antiroyalribbons follow

🪫 ravenousrebeliousraven follow

crazy how president marion belle and her husband are getting divorced... guess that's what the war ending does do a relationship

🟥 realredhood follow ☑️☑️☑️☑️☑️☑️☑️☑️☑️☑️☑️☑️☑️☑️☑️

its because belle sucks ass lmafo

🪫 ravenousrebeliousraven follow

RED HOOD?????

🥀 antiroyalribbons follow

only on sptumblr do we get war veterans gossiping about divorses. i guess. also is this government secrets or

🟥 realredhood follow ☑️☑️☑️☑️☑️☑️☑️☑️☑️☑️☑️☑️☑️☑️

:3

5,678 notes

🌅 atypicalarielien follow

can't believe that people threw rocks at fucking Rose Prince on the beach like. what. she's not a giant literally look at her stature..... this was like 3 miles from my house hell world can i move to fucking mulberry or some shit

1 note

🟥 realredhood follow ☑️☑️☑️☑️☑️☑️☑️☑️☑️☑️☑️☑️☑️☑️

if i get 100k notes ill leak crown and rebel documents on my sptwitch

[bitchlesshazard69]

I don't ever make posts, but I'm a huge Mystreet fan. Ever since the recent vidcon, I've had thoughts about the new animation style that wants to take up Mystreet. This must be a very controversial thought, and I will try and remain respectful in this post about why Aphmau should discontinue this style of animation and why it is such a hazard for the show's gain.

Being this an indie series, I know animation can be tough, but there seems to be very easy steps to prevent this mess up. I have noticed the new bodies the females have in the new animation style and I can say for certain that they are very awkward. There was no complaints on the old style, (preferred style) at all, yet Jess has decided to update them anyways. A fully animated direction might've not been so bad or made such a big difference if the animation wasn't entirely awkward; not just the animation; yet for the females.

The male designs haven't changed much, but tell me why the decision to give the woman curves, heavy blush and boobs was necessary. There are many flaws to the new female bodies, as they cookie cut all of the female characters into this short, tiny limbed person with boobs and awkward proportions. I know this is her channel's new animation style, yes, but these aspects feel so drawn to a simple minded audience. Even if it's supposed to be a show targeted for children, will it be an excuse.

In the first image with teen Aaron and Aphmau, we can see the new animation isn't so bad for the males as it is for the woman. Aphmau looks high.

In Katelyn's image next to a Christmas tree, do we have the awkward body that Katelyn was given. The females constantly have blush on their faces as well as large eyes, and the portions of their body get awkward to fit this female stereotype.

The kawaii~chan image has to be one of the most awkward shots. This shot really brings out why it's a bad choice. They may seem cute to Jess, but she hasn't seen the flaw of how it would be hard to ever do serious scenes with this new style. The old style was cute as well as fit to suite every mood, and there was no need to change it. If it ain't broke don't fix it.

Another shot with Aphmau and Aaron in the sky. The "realistic" woman proportions next to the Minecraft body of Aaron is extremely awkward and out of control. Katelyn in her swimsuit in the next shot is much worse.

Animation is hard, and there could be so much passion into this, yet it doesn't cover up how sexist the new bodies are for the females. The next image with Ivy and her crew explains that all so well. Jess would probably never read this, but I hope she takes the time to consider these changes can only do the worst for the show. The proportions look awkward with Minecraft and even downright inappropriate. Seriously, no one asked for all females to get downsized to short with boobs and thick thighs. Not a single soul. Everyone would be fine with the old style coming back, and I feel if others speak about it enough, we'll be listened too about these changes.

It feels like a shameless sexualization/stereotype to our beloved female characters and in no way did they need this. If the animation style MUST stay, then at least do us this and make all the bodies the same, leveled, equal blocky character as the Minecraft gods intended them to be. The males look practically fine.

The last picture shows the men and how the animation style actually could work out(Opinion wise, I will always prefer the old style of how things worked) but if Jess wants an animated series, that is completely fine. It would make a huge difference to bring back their old body shapes.

It is such a strong change, that it could end up ruining the show completely for other people. I wouldn't be surprised if people got offended over how the new woman bodies are "stylized". Seriously, this doesn't need to be.