#bruises from unsafe binding | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

leighsartworks216 · 1 month ago

Text

Deal with the Devil

Sylus x AFAB!Reader

It is almost midnight when I post this. I am... so tired 💀 I don't like the ending but I don't know how I'd fix it and I'm too tired to bother anymore teehee

Warnings: bruises, body dysphoria, chest binding, unsafe binding, teasing, pet names, possibly ooc

Word Count: 1,788

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

You bit the inside of your cheek to hide your wince as you passed the threshold of Sylus’s mansion. You were sure he already knew, with Mephisto always keeping an eye on you. You just hoped he didn’t know the full story.

You leaned against the wall and avoided looking down while you toed off your boots. The paint on the wall was as dark as the shadows in your worst nightmares. Your bruises would probably be just as dark.

“Welcome back, kitten,” Sylus greeted as he walked down the hall to greet you. “Was your apartment too far away?”

You shrugged noncommittally, but the sharp pain in your ribs nearly tensed your shoulder to permanently cover your ears. You hoped he wouldn’t notice. He would.

“This was closer.” Whether that was true or not, you have no idea. You don’t meet his eyes as you start to walk down the hall toward your room. There, you can take care of yourself in peace. “Go back to bed.”

He huffed, but there was very little amusement in the sound. His footsteps trailed right behind you. “Please, try not to sound so enthused, it’ll go straight to my head.” He tilted his head, white hair just catching the edge of your peripheral vision. “Your mission was a success, I presume, considering you’re still alive.”

You wished he’d just leave you alone. “Yup, a huge success,” you droned.

“No injuries, then?”

“If I say no, will you leave me alone?”

“If it’s the truth…” He pauses. You can hear the smirk in his voice. “No.”

“There’s no point answering, then.”

He chuckles. “You haven’t given me any incentive, kitten. How does leaving you alone benefit me, hm? There’s a give and take to these things, you understand.”

The climb up the stairs was agony. You tried not to let it show how bad your knees wobbled with each step, how you gripped the handrail like you were trying to strangle it, how your breath deepened as you struggled to catch it.

“I see you’re stubborn, as usual.”

You take larger steps to get to your room, despite the consequences. You turn the knob, rush in, and shove the door closed. Except, it didn’t close. That would mean the universe giving you even an ounce of luck today.

He pushes against the other side, effortlessly opening the door once more, even as you leaned against it with all your weight. It shuts with a light click, with Sylus on the inside.

“Show me,” he demands. You lean against the wall, panting through your nose and determinedly looking away. He sighs, irritated. “You can show me willingly, or I can tie you up and find out for myself. Your choice.”

You bite your cheek again. No matter how badly you wanted to keep it hidden away, keep your secrets close to your chest (literally), you could have gone to your apartment if you really wanted to keep it from him. It wouldn’t be hard to close yourself in a room with no windows, free from the prying eyes of that damned crow, and deal with it yourself.

And yet, you came here.

Despite his threat, he’s patient as he waits for you to make a choice. His red eyes seem to see right through you as they study your labored breaths, your minute giveaways of pain. Your hands trembled faintly by your sides, despite your subtle efforts to shake it away.

Eventually, you sigh. “Fine.” You don’t hide your wince as you push off of the wall, instinctively reaching for him for support. His hands grab your waist, keeping you upright. “Help me… take off my shirt.”

Sylus chuckles despite the tension in his brow as he helps you over to the bed to sit down. “Is it that difficult to ask for me to undress you?” He swiftly works to undo the buttons of your shirt.

His eyes flicker to every glimpse of exposed skin. There were ugly bruises, to be sure, but he’d never known you to let a few bruises slow you down. And yet he could see no sign of blood from an open wound anywhere. He frowns deeper.

“What were you fighting?”

You fiddle with your gloves, slowly working them off your fingers. “Just some knaves.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Same knaves did this? Did you forget how to dodge, kitten?”

You glared up at him. Really, it was all the dodging that had caused this. If you’d had a partner, you’d probably be fine. You could have stayed at a distance and provided cover fire. But they’d shown up rather suddenly, without giving enough time to worry about finding a partner.

With the last button undone, Sylus lifted your left arm and carefully slid the long sleeve off your body, before repeating it with the right. He dropped it beside you on the bed.

“Don’t tell me you wore that while you fought.” His voice was so low, threatening. It was almost a growl.

“I didn’t have time to take it off before the fight,” you defended yourself. You toss your gloves aside and reach under your chest binder to feel your ribs. The rough fabric rubbing against your skin as you jostle it feels like sandpaper, grating away at your flesh. You wince again, trying not to shift too much. “This is just a minor fluke; it won’t happen again.”

He scoffed. “Yes, a minor fluke. And how long do you wear it for, day by day? I’m sure you take breaks, right?”

“I take breaks!”

“Sweetie, one or two minutes with it off does not make up for hours with it on.” He goes to grab the wide straps of the binder.

You swat his hands away, staring up at him with wide eyes and covering your already-covered chest. “I’m naked under this!”

He leans forward, face close to yours as he grabs your hands and pulls them away. “Please, don’t tempt me, sweetie. You’ve already run my patience thin.”

“I can take it off on my own.”

“Really? You can’t take off your shirt by yourself, but you can lift your arms and wriggle out of a compression binder all on your own? It’s a miracle.”

He doesn’t wait this time for you to approve before he grabs the straps and starts working the binder over your head. You try not to fight him, but being exposed in front of Onychinus’ leader wasn’t exactly on your bucket list.

He alternates between pulling at the straps and the bottom hem, though he’s careful for now not to touch your skin. He thinks if he does, your face would go from pink to crimson in a heartbeat.

Once the stiff fabric is over your head, your arms are maneuvered slowly through the arm holes. It finds a place on top of your discarded shirt.

He doesn’t ask before grabbing the sides of your ribcage.

“Sylus!” you scold. When you try to push an arm away, he only holds on tighter, making you hiss.

“The sooner I’m certain you haven’t broken anything, the sooner you can get dressed.” His face is tense with concentration as he feels along each rib, head shifted from side to side as he checks the dark bruises painting your skin.

He was right: your face is bright red.

He steps away after a minute and heads to the closet. “Nothing feels broken, but you’ve bruised your ribs. Which means,” he returns with an oversized shirt and begins helping you into it without prompting, “you’re sticking around for a while, kitten.”

“I can’t,” you dismiss, fluffing the shirt in the front to hide your chest. “I have work.”

“Hm. Who’s that doctor friend of yours? I’m sure he’d be delighted to lock you in a hospital room for a few weeks.”

You glare up at him. “You wouldn’t.”

He makes a show of pulling out his phone and clicking through it. He turns the screen toward you for a second, long enough for you to process Zayne’s contact. He clicks the call button and brings it up to his ear.

You scramble to stand on the bed and pull the phone from his hand. He lets you, smirking with smug triumph as you end the call and toss the phone up by the headrest. You’re eye-to-eye with him as you pour all your anger and hatred into your stare.

“Three weeks bedrest,” he says.

“Two.”

“Three.”

You breathe in deeply through your nose, wondering if your hands would fit around his neck.

“Maybe the deal isn’t sweet enough for you?” he muses with a head tilt. “If a flat chest is really your desire, I’ll have the best surgeon in the field here to consult you as soon as you’re healed.”

Your breath caught in your chest. “Wha-” You grabbed onto his shoulder to keep yourself from falling. “Are you serious? But- But the surgery is so expensive!”

He chuckles. “Sweet, you insult me. Now…” He steps closer, running his fingers over your jaw. “Do we have a deal?”

The phone began ringing behind you.

You searched his eyes for any sign of a bluff, but came up empty. Slyus was nothing if not a man of his word. And he did have the money; you remember him telling you to bid higher at the auction when you were first getting to know each other. That sort of cash would take you several months of saving up every cent of your paycheck.

The deal felt too good to be true. “What do you get out of this?”

“Aside from making sure you’re not going to irreparably injure yourself one day?” He hummed. “Nothing at all. Think of it as a gift, if that makes you feel better.”

A gift… Could you really accept something so grand?

Your fingers mindlessly tap against his shoulder. You sigh, the feeling of defeat and elation warring inside you. “Deal.”

His hand moved from your jaw to you chest and pushed, plummeting you into the soft expanse of bed behind you. You cried out as gravity took hold, bouncing on the mattress. You blinked and Sylus was right over you, one hand beside your head keeping himself propped up while the other reached to grab the still-ringing phone. He accepted the call and put it to his ear.

Your heart raced. Did he lie to you? You could hear the muffled voice of Zayne reciting his standard hospital greeting.

“Sorry, I called the wrong number.” He didn’t wait for a response before hanging up. The phone was slipped back into his pocket before he caged you in completely. “Don’t look so scared, kitten. I keep my promises.”

#fanfic #fanfiction #sylus #sylus x reader #love and deepspace sylus #love and deepspace #lads #lads sylus #afab reader #x afab #trans reader #x trans reader

116 notes · View notes

solarmorrigan · 9 months ago

Text

Hands Where I Can See Them, part 11.5 [Rated E]

Optional smut continuation of part 11. Full chapter under the cut, click through at your own discretion. Read here on Ao3

[Warnings/Tags: very mild d/s dynamics (like. super mild, mentioning it just to be safe), unsafe sex, slightly possessive behavior (welcomed), rimming, anal fingering, anal sex, bottom!Steve/top!Eddie]

This is far from the first time Eddie’s had Steve spread out beneath him in bed.

This isn’t the first time he’s had him naked, skin flushed, chest heaving, lips parted and kiss-swollen, staring up at Eddie with bright, eager eyes – and god (or whoever else) willing, it won’t be the last.

But something about it still feels new.

There’s an awareness now – and understanding that this isn’t just his friend Steve, that they aren’t just here to have a good time, to make each other feel good and then part ways. The man beneath him is his, as much as Eddie belongs to him in turn; there’s something solid between them now, heavy and binding and comforting in its weight.

Eddie looks down at Steve with the knowledge that Steve wants to be with him, only with him, that Steve loves him and is letting Eddie love him in return, and Eddie wants to devour him.

So he gives into the urge.

Kneeling between Steve’s thighs, Eddie leans in and presses his lips to the soft spot just behind the hinge of Steve’s jaw, kissing and licking and nipping his way down the length of his neck. Steve is sighing with it when Eddie reaches the crook of his shoulder, where he opens his mouth and bites down on the thick muscle beneath his lips.

“Ah!” Steve hisses and jerks beneath Eddie, but the arm that comes up around Eddie’s back only pulls him closer.

Of all the many varied things they’ve done in bed together, this is the one thing Eddie had always wanted that he’d never indulged: biting, marking.

Steve hadn’t been his, he’d reasoned, so the right to leave hickeys and bitemarks hadn’t belonged to him. Now, though – now, Eddie eases up on the pressure of his teeth and instead seals his lips over the tender skin, sucking hard enough to bruise.

Beneath him, Steve practically whines, hooking one leg up over Eddie’s hips and pulling him closer, grinding up against him. Eddie moans, rocking into the feeling of Steve’s cock rubbing against his, hard and hot and beginning to bead with precome, and he finally releases Steve’s neck, licking over the bruise before he goes.

Ducking down, Eddie mouths his way across Steve’s collarbones, over his chest, and latches onto a patch of skin just over where he estimates Steve’s heart should be, scraping the spot with his teeth before he sets to sucking in another mark.

“Fuck, Eddie,” Steve hisses, all but squirming under Eddie now.

Eddie pulls away, kissing the already-purpling bruise he’s left before looking up at Steve, taking in the dark flush that’s starting to spread down his neck, the wet shine of his lips as he pants for air, and he grins.

“Gonna tell me what you want, sweetheart?” he asks.

Steve licks his lips, nodding. “I want to feel you – want you inside,” he says, low and rough. “Fuck me, Eddie.”

Eddie groans, the words going straight to his cock. He’d been pretty certain of the answer, but it doesn’t pay to assume; they don’t do this every time, and it isn’t as though they never switch it up (Eddie can remember the last time Steve had fucked him; his knees sliding across the sheets with Steve’s big hands curled around his hips, holding him in place as his cock split him open, the pace slow and deep, until Eddie had been all but drooling into the mattress and coming with barely more than a couple of tugs to his cock), but four times out of five, if they fuck, it’s Steve on the bottom.

They’d discovered together how sensitive he is, how he melts for just a couple of fingers inside of him, how he’ll practically scream if he’s fucked just right, how responsive he is if someone lays him back and doesn’t let him think.

Steve loves the feeling of being taken care of, of being filled and so obviously wanted, and Eddie– Eddie can’t think of a single damn thing better than the feeling of those thick thighs wrapped around his waist, shaking with the pleasure that Eddie is providing, or the sight of that strong back curved down in offering, waiting for Eddie to take him apart.

There’s nothing Eddie wants in the world as much as he wants to make Steve feel good right now, and he plans on pulling out every little thing he’s learned in the months they’d spent having—as Steve had said—a lot of sex in order to do just that.

“Anything you want, Steve,” Eddie croons – and he fucking means it. He scoots away and pats Steve’s hip before instructing him with a little twirl of his finger, “Over. On your knees, baby.”

While Steve twists on top of the covers, moving to obey, Eddie stretches for the bedside drawer, reaching in for the lube and condoms that are still right where he expects them to be, even though it’s been a couple of months since he’s had occasion to even be near them.

He turns back to find Steve waiting for him on his hands and knees, watching with anticipation, and Eddie shakes his head.

“Not quite what I meant,” he says, dropping the lube and condom on the bed before moving one hand to cup the back of Steve’s neck and press down gently. “Just your knees.”

And just like that, Steve goes down, shoulders braced on the bed, face half-buried in a pillow, allowing himself to be bent and molded to Eddie’s specifications, trusting Eddie to give him what he needs – and Eddie very much intends on delivering.

He presses a kiss to the base of Steve’s spine and runs his hands up the backs of his thighs, coming to cup his ass in his palms. He allows himself one indulgent squeeze to those soft handfuls before pressing his thumbs between Steve’s cheeks and spreading him open, exposing his tight, pink hole.

The breath Steve lets out is audible, sharp and anticipatory as Eddie leans in and blows a teasing stream of air over him before, with no further warning, he licks a thick stripe up from balls to tailbone.

“Unh-!” Steve sounds surprised, but the noise that comes from deep in his chest is no less pleasured for it. “Fuck, Eddie–”

Eddie hums and aims another broad lick right across Steve’s hole, and from there, the noises don’t stop. Eddie’s always loved eating Steve out for exactly this reason – it drives him crazy. He gets loud and squirmy and, if Eddie keeps at it long enough, teary and desperate. He’s so sensitive, so responsive, and Eddie fucking eats it up.

(So to say.)

He progresses from teasing strokes with the flat of his tongue to testing probes with the tip, and Steve answers him beautifully, pressing his ass back towards Eddie with a whine. Eddie obliges the unspoken request, sliding his tongue past the tight ring of muscle, and Steve shouts.

“Shit! Ah, ah–” He thrusts back, the arch of his spine curving deeper, hands fisting the comforter as he tries to get closer while Eddie fucks him with his tongue. “God, Eddie, please.”

Eddie wonders, not for the first time, if he could get Steve to come on his tongue alone, but now isn’t the time to find out. Instead, he pulls away to reach for the lube, ignoring the little sob of air Steve lets out as he goes; he’ll be back soon enough.

He drizzles some lube out into his hand, spreading it between his fingers and thumb, warming it just a little before he’s spreading Steve open with his dry hand and rubbing his thumb over his hole. He’s already a little puffy, flesh still wet from Eddie’s tongue, and he opens up beautifully, taking Eddie’s thumb all the way to the last knuckle with a long, low groan.

“God, look at you,” Eddie says, twisting his hand and feeling the silky heat against the pad of his thumb. “Take me so beautifully, it’s like I belong inside you.”

“Yeah.” Steve nods rapidly against the pillow. “God, yes, you – ohfuck!”

Eddie smirks as he hooks thumb inside of Steve and tugs, gently but inexorably stretching him wider, watching as Steve bucks back into the feeling. He ducks back down and shoves his tongue into the space he’s making for himself, and listens to Steve cry out.

Eventually, Eddie’s thumb is replaced by two fingers, and by the time he gets to three, Steve is all but sobbing, shifting restlessly as if his body can’t decide whether it wants to drive further into the pleasure or if it wants to escape Eddie and the relentless way he’s been stroking Steve’s prostate for the last minute.

“I’m – ‘m gonna – fuck, Eddie, fuck me, please,” Steve begs, legs shaking and hips canting towards Eddie still, like he just can’t help himself.

Gently, Eddie slides his fingers out, pressing another kiss to the tip of his tailbone as he goes. “Back over for me, sweetheart,” he says. “I wanna see your pretty face.”

“Starting… to feel like a dog,” Steve pants as he flops onto his side and then turns over onto his back, “the way you keep ordering me to roll over. Gonna tell me to sit and stay next?”

“Well, you are a very good boy,” Eddie says, smirking at the predictable catch in Steve’s breath, the way he goes absolutely still for a moment; if the flush high on his cheeks could get any darker, Eddie’s willing to bet it would right now, but the way his cock twitches hard against his belly gives him away all the same.

Eddie doesn’t push it today—it’s something they can have fun with later, with the many, many laters he hopes there will be—and instead reaches for the condom he’d abandoned to the side of the bed.

“Hey,” Steve says softly, watching Eddie’s hands. “Was there – was there ever anyone else? While we…?”

“Oh, fuck, no,” Eddie rushes to assure him, fumbling and nearly dropping the condom packet when he reaches for one of Steve’s hands and grips it tight. “No. I mean, Jesus, Steve, I had you – even if I didn’t quite understand how I had you, why would I have wanted anyone else then?”

Steve gives a little shrug. “I didn’t think– I mean, I hoped not, but I just– thought I’d ask. Because if there hasn’t been, then… you don’t really need that.” He nods at the condom, still clutched in Eddie’s free hand. “If– if you don’t want.”

“You–” Eddie breaks off, choked for a second by the feeling of pure arousal that rises up in his chest. “You want me to?”

Steve nods at whatever meaning he takes from Eddie’s half-formed question and sits up to cup a hand around the back of Eddie’s neck, pulling him into a kiss.

“Wanna feel you. Nothing between us,” he murmurs as they break apart. He kisses the corner of Eddie’s mouth, his cheek, and then leans in to speak quietly, right into his ear, “You can come inside me, if you want.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Eddie practically lunges for the lube, flipping the cap open with an urgency he usually tries to keep in check. “If I want. If I want, he says!”

Laughing, Steve falls back against the pillows, watching through half-lidded eyes with satisfaction. “I mean, it kinda looks like you do,” he teases, and Eddie manages a breathless laugh as he’s stroking himself with one lube-slick hand.

“You’ve convinced me, Steve,” he says, aiming for dry but still sounding eager.

He positions himself between Steve’s thighs, guiding his cock until the tip is resting snug against Steve’s hole, and they both breathe sharp with the anticipation. But instead of pushing immediately in, Eddie leans up, taking Steve’s mouth in a kiss, deep and slick and consuming.

“I love you,” he says before they’ve really even pulled apart.

Steve’s expression goes soft at that, eyes wide with something that sparks like wonder. “I love you, too,” he answers, and Eddie grins.

He hopes that even if Steve says it a thousand times, he never gets used to hearing it. He wants it to feel like the first time, every time.

Slowly, he pushes forward, his mouth falling open at the heat squeezing around the head of his cock. Oh, he’s missed this – he’d missed everything about Steve, of course he had, but fuck if he hasn’t missed the way his body welcomes him in, grips him tight like it never wants him to leave.

He’s missed Steve’s fingers digging little bruises into his arms or his shoulders, missed the way his hair frizzes out across the pillow as he tosses his head back, missed the almost feverish gleam in his eyes when he’s close to coming – Eddie’s missed it all, and when he finally sinks in to the hilt, it feels like coming home.

“Oh, fuck, Steve,” Eddie breathes, pausing with his hands braced on Steve’s hips, wondering how long he’s even going to last.

“Move,” Steve all but demands, the desperation that had abated during their brief conversation returning with a vengeance. “Fuck, Eddie, please move.”

And Eddie had promised him anything he wants – he’s not about to deny him now. He pulls back, sliding almost all the way out before shoving back in, hard and fast the way that’s always made Steve light up in the past, and Steve doesn’t disappoint.

“Yes!” His back arches, hips bucking up to meet Eddie’s thrust. “God, just like that, Eddie, fuck.”

And fuck Eddie does, setting an unrelenting pace that pushes sweet noise after sweet noise out of Steve’s throat, hitting Eddie’s ears like music, like Steve is the best instrument he’ll ever learn to play. He’s not sure he can keep it up for long, but he’s not sure he’ll have to; Steve looks at least as far gone as he is, if not even closer to orgasm after all the time Eddie spent opening him up.

“God, fucking – perfect,” Steve hisses, his hands coming down to cover Eddie’s where they rest on his hips. “Always feel so fucking good.”

The hands over his own make Eddie pause, fully sheathed inside of Steve, panting and still for a moment. Then he takes his hands from Steve’s hips and instead twines their fingers together, leaning forward so he can brace their joined hands on the bed on either side of Steve’s head.

Steve clutches tightly at Eddie, letting out a delighted little noise that turns into a full-chested moan when Eddie pulls out and thrusts back in.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks, aiming for the same spot again and getting an even louder noise for his effort. “Right there, baby?”

“Yes,” Steve gasps, his legs coming up around Eddie’s waist, encouraging him to thrust in harder, deeper. “Fuck, yes, yes, yes–!”

Eddie’s cock throbs, balls drawing up as he fucks faster into Steve, his rhythm going a bit sloppy. “Gonna come, baby? Just like this? Just my cock inside you?” He’s not sure if he’s teasing or if he’s begging, trying to make sure Steve is as close to the edge as he is. “Or are you gonna wait for me? Wait ‘til I come, ‘til you can feel me hot and wet inside you, so you know you’re mine–”

Steve arches up and comes with a wail, his cock untouched between them, spilling messy and slick across his belly and chest, and Eddie is fucking helpless to do anything but come after him.

He keeps thrusting, keeps grinding up into Steve until Steve’s noises become overstimulated little whines and Eddie is feeling a little raw himself. Carefully, he slides out, glancing down just in time to see a trickle of white follow him, leaking slowly down the inside of Steve’s thigh, and he wishes he could be ready to go again right this minute.

In lieu of that, he flops half onto the mattress and half on top of Steve, peppering breathless kisses across his shoulder, across his neck, over the hickey Eddie had left that’s already a livid shade of magenta, up his jaw and over his cheek, until Steve turns his head and catches him in a kiss that keeps him still for a long moment.

“That was different,” Steve says quietly when they part. “I mean, it was good! It was great, it was just… it felt different.”

“Told you: you’re mine. And I’m yours. And now we’re both fully aware.” Eddie kisses Steve on the cheek, then pauses as he’s hit with a thought. “Oh damn, do you think we just made love or some shit?”

Steve snorts. “I’m not sure making love involves getting turned on by watching your own jizz leak out of my ass,” he says, in a tone that very much implies ‘don’t think I didn’t notice.’

“Boo, that sounds boring,” Eddie says, very much ignoring Steve’s tone. “How about we say that we fucked with love?”

“How about we don’t.”

“Amorous fucking.”

“No.”

“Sweet, sensual sodomy.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” Steve laughs, crashing his mouth against Eddie’s in something that might have been a kiss if they hadn’t both been grinning. “I love you.”

“Yeah? I guess that works: We fucked, also we’re in love,” Eddie declares, and Steve rolls his eyes.

“I guess that works, yeah,” he says quietly, smiling, still, and finally–

Eddie feels like he got it right.

No tag list on this one because I didn't know for sure who'd be comfortable with it, sorry!

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie smut #(why am I remembering that as a tag. is that it? is that the right one??)#solar wrote #eddiesteve

131 notes · View notes

slasherberry-shortcake · 2 years ago

Text

・❥・Slashers With A FTM S/O Headcanons・❥・

(ft. Billy Lenz, Billy Loomis, Bo Sinclair, Bubba Sawyer, Michael Myers, Pyramid Head, Thomas Hewitt)

CW: Dysphoria Mentions, Murder Mentions, Mentions of Blood

FEM DNI PLEASE

Billy Lenz

* Billy doesn’t really know what being trans means. As long as you tell him you’re a man, you are one, simple as that

* He tries to have you explain further, but he gets distracted easily and never actually listens to your explanations

* He helps you bind safely (if you don’t have top surgery, yet), well, helps as much as he can, he’s clueless

* He loves you regardless of your gender and he is always there when you feel dysphoric. He will call you all the masculine names he can think of and does his best to remind you that you’re not just any man, you’re his man

Billy Loomis

* He, unlike Billy, knows what being trans means. He has no issues with it, you’re whatever you tell him you are.

* As sweet as he is, he will 100% try to like, mansplain what being trans is. Like, “Yeah, it just means that your anatomy doesn’t match, babe. You have dysphoria.” LIKE AFTER YOU TELL HIM YOU HAVE DYSPHORIA-

* He’s very supportive and researched safe binding all on his own (with help from Stu). He makes sure you don’t do anything unsafe, no bandages or tape. He also has Stu buy you a lot of binders, in any colors you can imagine.

* When you feel dysphoric, he’ll be all over you. He’ll call you a beautiful boy, his handsome man, the cutest little boy he’s ever seen, so on so forth. He loves you lots, he really cares about you.

Bo Sinclair

* He is confused at first. He doesn’t know what being trans means so he just kind of ignores it. Tell him you’re a guy? Cool, he loves you so he doesn’t care

* He would never try to ignore it, but he can’t help but tune you out every time you try to explain. You’ll begin to tell him that you weren’t born right and he’d shush you and ask you to bring him his tools. It’s subconscious, but it is really annoying

* He’ll monitor your binding and makes sure you don’t have bruises, but he won’t make a spectacle out of it. In fact, he’ll never bring it up to you that he is paying attention

* When you get dysphoric, he leaves notes underneath the bedroom door. He calls you his lovely boy, his handsome honeydew, his sweet man, anything he can think of that’s masculine. He cares about you and about taking care of you, but he’s too awkward to actually let you know that.

Bubba Sawyer

* He also doesn’t know what being trans means. Oh, you’re a boy but you weren’t born a boy? He doesn’t care at all! He loves you regardless of parts, you’re personality is what melts him anyways

* He’s an amazing listener. He would let you explain whatever you needed and would let you know he’s listening because he loves your voice. He would mhm or uh-huh at every sentence, his eyes focused on your lips when you talked (shout out anti-eye contact gang)

* After you explained what binding was, he would monitor you closely. He would try to sneak, but his large form really didn’t let him. He didn’t want to hover but he had to make sure you were being safe. He’d squeal and grab whatever incorrect method you had out of your hands. He’d offer to make you a binder, but you knew he meant out of skin. And that wasn’t your thing, so you politely declined

* When you got dysphoric, he would panic internally. He didn’t know what to do, he would just sit with you and run hands through your hair and mumble. He was very soothing. He loves his boy, that boy being you of course

Michael Myers (OG)

* He has heard about the transgender. He met a lot of people in Smith’s Grove, and some people were trans. Did he get it? No, but he didn’t care at all. You say you’re a boy? You’re a boy then.

* You explain it to him and he listens. He doesn’t really respond, but he listens. He understands what you mean, understands what you need, and he leaves it at that.

* Binding unsafely? Not on Michael’s watch. He’ll use all of the strength he had to rip any harmful material from your hands and throw it away (yes, even the gauze. You may have needed that). He would steal binders for you from victims, houses, and stores. You didn’t need to harm yourself, he could help you

* When you got dysphoric, he would be there. He would sit next to you, larger hand on yours. He would just breathe and rub your knuckles, trying to remind you that he was here for the man he loved. That man being you

* (He also killed many people who misgendered/deadnamed you, made a show out of it for himself. When you asked him where the blood on him came from, he shrugged)

Pyramid Head

* He doesn’t know/care about being trans. It wasn’t his business. Regardless of gender, you were his, simple as that.

* Explain all you want, he won’t listen. You would explain anything but he doesn’t care. It’s not his concern, all that matters is that you belong to him

* Unsafely binding? He’ll make a warning metallic noise at you and rip the unsafe material away. He won’t actively get you a binder, but he offers at-home top surgery (ill-advised)

* Feeling dysphoric today? He will lift you into his arms and make metallic clicks and groans, run his huge hands all over you to calm you down. He wouldn’t know how to make you feel masculine and to be honest, he wouldn’t try to. He’d just try to make you feel safe

Thomas Hewitt

* He was aware of what being trans meant. He knew that it was a thing, though he couldn’t say that he understood it all too well. It was none of his business what other people identified as. Well, it wasn’t his business until you came along. Then it was his business

* You explained it to him, you explained everything, and he listened. He listened and he understood to the best of his ability. You were a man. You told him so, so he agreed. Anything you told him, he’d respect and he’d accept.

* He would give you soft and gentle reminders to bind safely. He would offer a tight tank top to you and a sports bra (as finding a binder in the middle of nowhere in Texas is a bit of a struggle). Bandages were strictly for wounds, nothing else.

* If you felt dysphoric, he would be there with you. He would hold your hand and help you through it, whisper almost silently every masculine pet name he could come up with. You were his man, he loved you, and he would do anything to prove that

#slasher x male reader #slashers x reader #slasher x reader #x ftm reader #x male reader #slashers #billy lenz x male reader #billy loomis x male reader #bo sinclair x male reader #bubba sawyer x male reader #michael myers x male reader #pyramid head x male reader #thomas hewitt x male reader #fanfic #fanfiction #slasher fic #slasher headcanons

890 notes · View notes

infanttoes · 1 month ago

Text

The Closet Was Tinted Glass

Trans Katsuki AU! (Requested by a friend :D)

CW: unsafe binding, mention of dysphoria(very brief)

Locker rooms have always been a challenge to Katsuki. He's known he was a guy since the day he could understand the concept of gender at all, there was absolutely no changing his mind about it. If you told him otherwise, you'd either get blatantly ignored or screamed at. The only people he needed to accept him (his parents and Izuku), accepted him, and so he couldn't care less about the opinions of anyone else.

But ever since he got into high school, he decided he wanted a fresh start. Being a hero means that his public image mattered a whole lot more than it did in middle school, and being transgender in Japan isn't a great look. Best case scenario, he'll receive a lot of backlash. He doesn't even wanna think about the worst case scenario. Yikes.

So before the school year began, he made sure to visit Izuku at his house over their break and inform him that he is not, in fact, transgender but rather that he has always been a guy. Izuku, in his pijamas after a long day on the beach with All Might, tiredly grumbled that if he doesn't want him to tell anyone he's transgender, he won't. Katsuki bopped him on the head and left with a huff. At least he got his point across.

Everything went fairly well for the next two years concerning his identity. There was no speculation on social media, Izuku kept his word and didn't make a peep about it towards anyone, and his teachers were all pretty supportive since the start. He did have to lie to his classmates a few times concerning why he stays behind on the training grounds until everyone leave the locker rooms, but besides that, things were going smoothly.

That was until stupid, idiot Deku was too busy tying his signature red shoes to notice literally everyone else had gone out of the locker room. Katsuki unsuspectingly comes in, not bothering to check for any signs of life as he's been doing this routine for years and assumed it wouldn't change any time soon. To his surprise, when he begins tearing his sweaty costume off and setting each part down on the bench behind him, he hears a faint gasp.

"What the fuck?" He immediately yelps, turning his head so fast he gets whiplash. To his dismay, Izuku's standing across from him with an incredibly concerned pout and wide eyes.

"Did you seriously have your binder on that whole time? You're gonna get really hurt doing that," Izuku confronts, marching over to Katsuki and flicking him on the forehead. He winces at the sting but ultimately rolls his eyes.

"You don't have the room to talk, nerd. All I do is see your shithead will your life away on the daily. Besides, if I train without a binder, someone's bound to notice. Tits aren't exactly the most easy things to hide." He cringes internally at the memory of his classmates agreeing that he has a really feminine body type. That single handedly fueled his dysphoria for the following weeks.

"I can see the bruising, Kacchan! It's no wonder you've been taking so many breaks during training. When have you ever cared about people knowing anyway?" The shorter argues, seeming genuinely adamant about the topic, albeit a little embarrassed at the nature of it. Katsuki sighs, partly because he knows Izuku's right and also because he's annoyed at his hero complex.

"I fucking don't, dipshit. Those idiots just don't know how to keep their mouths shut and I'd be revolutionarily fucked if the press found out I was trans. It doesn't even hurt; we've been through worse and you should know that of all people."

Izuku's eyes soften. Now it’s his turn to sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. He takes a moment to gather his words and put them in a way Katsuki will take into consideration.

"Okay, I get it. Coming out is really dangerous to your career. But letting yourself get injured like this is holding you back from your true potential; weren't you the one that got upset with Todoroki during the Sports Festival because he wasn't putting his all into the fight? You're disabling yourself just like he did."

At that, Katsuki stares at him blankly, unmoving and silent. To him, the world stopped spinning for a moment. He feels like the biggest hypocrite ever. Izuku's just about to accuse him of zoning out while he was rambling when he finally speaks up.

"Damn, you're such a hassle to deal with. Do you have an extra shirt I can wear then? A looser one?" Katsuki grumbles, uncharacteristically sheepish. Izuku's face lights up in an instant, letting out a relieved exhale and nodding. He slides his bag off his shoulders and places it on the bench, digging through for a couple seconds before pulling out a black tee that reads 'extra shirt' in small, bold lettering. Katsuki offers an unimpressed glance, snatching the shirt away and doing a 'shoo' motion.

Once Izuku leaves the locker room, Katsuki steps in front of the mirror. Seeing himself so up close is unsettling. The former was right; the bruising is super obvious. He slowly undoes each clip starting from the top, relief filling his lungs as their constraints are removed. His ribs are dotted harsh purple spots, a sickly yellow ring surrounding each of the dark marks. He stares at himself uneasily for another moment before forcefully tearing his gaze away, reaching for the borrowed shirt and pulling it over his head as quickly as possible. It fits nicely; more snug than it would've been on Izuku since he has a smaller form, but it's much less apparent than a tank top. He does regret not bringing a bra, but to be fair, he wasn't expecting to be given a (metaphorical) slap in the face for being a professional dumbass.

He isn't sure why he's nervous. He collects his miscellaneous belongings, shoving them in his tote bag and swinging it over his shoulder. It takes a significant amount of effort to trudge himself towards the door, trying to keep his nausea to a bare minimum as he pushes it open. He subconsciously has his arms crossed and body slouched when he walks out, as if trying to go unseen.

By the time he catches up with the rest of the class, they're seated at some outdoor table on campus, sharing the granola bars Eijirou packed in his sports bag. Training had been particularly rough today so a snack would do well by them. Katsuki inconspicuously slides onto the bench next to Eijirou and promptly tunes into the conversation. They're discussing the best horror movies and ranking them out of ten; nothing particularly interesting but enough to distract him from the pit in his stomach.

It's when Katsuki goes to stretch his arms that hell begins to raise. He groans lightly, the day leaving his body with each pop of his joints. The noise draws the attention of Denki, who would normally go right back to conversation, but his eyes caught something out of the ordinary.

"Woah dude, did your chest grow two inches in the past hour?" He teases unsuspectingly, a small snicker coating the question. Despite the obviously playful manner, Katsuki's face pales. Suddenly, any sense of relaxation he felt did a total 180 and he's back in panic mode. Just that simple sentence made his hands go clammy and his mouth dry as the Sahara Desert.

"The fuck? No, you dunce. Go back to talking about Annabelle or whatever," he growls, kicking Denki's leg under the table. He whines pitifully, mumbling a 'what was that for!'

"No, he's right! Did you get implants while you were gone? I mean, damn! Your tits are bigger than mine. It's almost like they're real," Mina comments, giggling. In hindsight, that probably isn't the best thing to say about someone, but she honestly didn't think anything was going to come of it.

Katsuki, on the contrary, was having a war inside his mind. On one hand, he knows his friends will accept him no matter what gender he was born as or conforms with. Everyone's already acutely aware that Eijirou is a little more interested in other men than he lets on so he has nothing to worry about. But on the other hand, he's actually really scared. Scared that he'll be treated with less respect or assholes will underestimate the extent of his abilities just because he happened to be born with different genitals.

Thinking back to what Izuku said, though, he's completely right. He's desperately trying to keep up his pride while simultaneously holding himself back. He'll never be able to fight properly if he's constantly hiding, and if you know Katsuki, you know that he's not satisfied with a half-assed fight. Finally, he decides he's pushed through pain for far too long.

"Probably because they are."

The table goes silent. Even Jirou looks up from her phone long enough to gape at the revelation. Katsuki's skin is burning under the intensity of all their shocked stares.

"Geez, don't make this more awkward than it has to be."

At the uncomfortable plead, Eijirou immediately goes to Katsuki's rescue.

"Bakubro, that's so fucking awesome! I had no idea, congrats on telling us!" He praises, wrapping his arms around Katsuki with tears pricking his eyes. Katsuki stiffens at the display of affection, half-heartedly trying to push him away.

"Shut the fuck up, that wasn't an invitation. And I did it for myself, not for you goons," he hisses, inevitably accepting the hug when Eijirou uses his quirk to stop his struggling. It takes barely a second for the rest of the group to begin fussing over him, sharing their congrats and how, 'wow, you passed really well.' Not like he doesn't know that. What shocked him the most, however, was Hanta silently pointing to himself and then holding up two fingers.

From the corner of his eye, he can see Izuku sitting at the table beside him with his own nerd club. Izuku smiles at him proudly. Katsuki smiles back.

positive feedback/kind criticism only please! <3

#fanfic #mha #headcanon #writing #trans bakugo #mha au #bakugo katsuki #platonic ships #trans pride #fluff #bakusquad #bkdk

10 notes · View notes

my-castles-crumbling · 1 year ago

Text

Chapter 9- Clandestine

Guys, I've discovered Lana Del Ray. So if this chapter is a bit emotional, blame her. Okay, CW: LOTS of dysphoria, as well as a lot of discussions about binding, safe binding, and depictions of unsafe binding. Blink-and-you-miss-it misgendering. Some quick medical stuff. Anxiety, depression. Hints at self-harm, but not really.

Second year was not much different from first, if Regulus was honest. Rooming with Barty and Evan. Walks with Sirius.

He didn’t feel older. Classes weren’t much harder. He enjoyed being back. He felt safe.

But he struggled in some ways. Namely, with his body, which still insisted on betraying him daily.

Being in a room with Barty and Evan was wonderful in many ways. It was a reminder that he was considered a boy, here. That people looked at him and saw a boy. That he fit in with the other boys.

Bit it also made him ache, in a way that was difficult to describe. He watched Barty and Evan continue to change in the open room as he shed his clothes in the safety of the bathroom. He stared in the mirror for far too long, changing into shirt after shirt, wondering if he could actually see a small curve on his chest, or if it was his brain playing tricks on him.

Sometimes he had to sit on his hands to resist the urge to claw at his very skin. It wasn't that he wanted to hurt himself. It was just that his body kept changing, kept getting worse, and he sometimes felt the primal urge to just–

Sirius and Pandora and Dorcas were so well-meaning. They listened to him rant and rage and scream. They helped him on days when he just felt wrong, like a square peg in a round hole. They comforted him.

He’d taken to hiding the rock Potter had given him for his birthday in his pocket. When he got anxious or particularly nauseous when looking in the mirror, it helped to worry it in his hands. Flip it over and over. Feel the smooth surface. It was calming, somehow. It allowed him to focus on something else, anything else, besides the way his body didn’t fit.

He slept in the bandages almost every night. He knew it was bad for him. He felt the way his chest bruised and his back ached and the rashes and scratches burned. But he found that he needed it. He felt so invalid, like he wasn’t truly a boy without them. If he thought too much about it, he found himself close to tears- why did he have to go through this just to achieve the same feeling most people naturally had?

But he pushed that resentment down, and just re-tightened the bandages daily, forcing himself not to think about it too much.

It could be worse, after all.

“Did you hear?” Evan asked, one October evening as the three of them lay lazily in bed avoiding homework.

“That you’re a prat? Yes,” Barty replied lazily, dodging the pillow that Evan threw.

Regulus snorted.

“No, that Potter is replacing DeSilva this year on Gryffindor,” Evan clarified, scoffing a bit.

It had been a huge topic of conversation amongst anyone who followed the Quidditch games- Gryffindor had always been alright, but their Chasers had been lacking. A good Chaser would make them a problem, especially to Slytheirn, whose Keeper was shit. People had wondered why DeSilva hadn’t been kicked off in previous years, but Gryffindors were too nice, and had the policy that once you got a position, you kept it, as long as you didn’t do something morally wrong.

Of course, Regulus had watched Potter play. So, he knew they were a bit screwed, now.

So, why was he excited at the news?

“Potter’s not bad,” he commented, trying to keep his voice even.

“We’re fucked. Between Flint and Goyle, there’s no way,” Barty grumbled.

“Flint’s gotten better at covering the right hoop,” Evan said reasonably. “Too bad Goyle’s captain, or they could kick him off. He’s such shit. But I heard his daddy bought the whole team new brooms, so we’re stuck with him until he graduates.”

Barty grunted in frustration. “Maybe he’d catch the snitch if we charm it to make whistling noises. Always thought he followed Crabbe around like a puppy.”

“Next year, he’ll graduate and Reg will be Seeker. Then, we’ll stand a chance,” Evan shrugged. “Until then, I’m betting on Ravenclaw. Pandora says their Seeker is decent.”

Regulus nodded vacantly, reaching into his pocket to turn the rock over and over.

Privately, he was betting on Gryffindor.

Pain.

All he felt was pain.

Crawling up and down his ribs, punching at his back, stabbing at his chest.

It was jarring. Scary. Terrifying.

It hurt to move, hurt to moan, hurt to breathe.

He’d never woken up to pain like this.

He needed help, and he knew it. But his entire being shied away from waking Barty and Evan. He didn’t want to bother them (both were not ones to be awoken before absolutely necessary) and he was terrified they’d ask to see or touch where it hurt.

But as he tried desperately to sit up only to fall back in a groan of agony, his gulps of air causing shooting aches, he knew there was nothing for it.

“Help,” he croaked, even the movement of his talking searing his entire torso.

He had to call twice more before Evan’s grumpy-but-concerned face stuck through the curtains. He immediately went pale. “Reg? What- what’s wrong?”

But he was starting to feel faint. He couldn’t escape the pain, and he was starting to feel almost claustrophobic with it. Like he could either breathe and hurt or hurt less and have no oxygen. There was no way out.

His head spun. He tried desperately to stay conscious. He couldn’t let them see. What if they saw?

The last thing he remembered before passing out was Evan yelling for Barty.

“You fucking idiot.”

He opened his eyes to sunshine and mumbles and his chest feeling far too exposed and empty, even with the blanket covering him. The bandages were gone. “That’s my line to you,” he sleepily shot back to his brother, blinking, trying to get Sirius’s face into focus.

“Not when you break your own ribs,” Sirius said roughly. Admittedly, Sirius looked like he was the one who should be in the hospital bed. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days, and the deep circles under his eyes made him look almost skeletal. His hands, which had wrapped themselves around Regulus’s forearm, all had fingernails that were bitten down raw. He looked distraught. “I gave you that fucking bandage to help you, Regulus. How tight–?”

“It’s not your fault, idiot,” He murmured, looking down. Perhaps he had been keeping the bandage a bit too tight.

“I didn’t know,” Sirius whispered, looking like he was trying to convince both of them of the fact. “I had no idea that- that this could happen.”

Regulus chuckled, ignoring the small twinge in his healed chest. “Same. I suppose Pomfrey is pissed?”

“I convinced her not to owl mother,” Sirius shrugged. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You…erm…might have to lay off the bandage for a while. Pomfrey said something about permanent damage to your back. If you….y’know…keep it up as much as you have.”

Remulus blinked, trying and failing to fight against the despair creeping into his brain as the tears formed. “So…so….” he mumbled, unsure about how to put his thoughts into words.

“Maybe…only a few hours a day? Or…a bit looser?” Sirius suggested hesitantly.

Regulus balked, feeling the anger and fear and disgust all bubble within him, his self-control wavering. “And then what, Sirius? How do I explain to Barty and Evan that I’ve suddenly got tits?”

He felt the nausea build within his stomach and he almost choked, picturing for just a moment having to walk around with an unbound chest. Picturing the looks. The reactions. The disgust.

“You…you don’t have…” Sirius argued weakly, looking as if he truly had no idea what to say.

“I do! I do, and there isn’t a thing I can do about it, because our parents will never let me take the potion. So I’m stuck like this until I turn seventeen!” Regulus said loudly, allowing some of his carefully-controlled anger to boil over. “And you tell me, how many people in Hogwarts would honestly be okay rooming with me, knowing that? Who thinks that’s normal?” Sirius sighed, looking helpless.

“You are normal, Reg. There’s nothing about you that’s–that’s bad or wrong.”

“Tell that to our parents,” Regulus spat, turning away from Sirius a bit. “Tell that to my body.”

Sirius inhaled a bit. “Just….just promise me you’ll keep it a bit looser, okay? I can’t…I can’t bear it if something were to happen to you.”

The genuinely terrified look on his face was what broke Regulus from his anger. He deflated, allowing the defensiveness to flow out of him. “Alright,” he murmured, allowing Sirius to pull him into a hug. “That hurts, you prat,” he whispered as Sirius squeezed him tightly.

But when Sirius made to let go, he felt sad, as if he wished his brother hadn’t let go.

Regulus stayed in the Hospital overnight that night. Something about 'making sure his blood vessels were okay', or whatever.

His friends visited, and he reassured them that he had been out the night before practicing Quidditch (true) and he must have hurt himself during a particularly crazy dive (false). Barty and Evan seemed to buy it, but Dorcas and Pandora gave him maddeningly disbelieving looks throughout their visit.

It was a different visitor, though, that made him much more nervous.

Remus Lupin entered the Hospital Wing late the second night, definitely after curfew, and certainly after Pomfrey had gone to bed. He made Regulus emit a small yelp of shock when he showed up, as he hadn’t been expecting the taller boy to show up at all, let alone at such an hour.

“It’s just me, sorry,” Remus muttered, as if he often visited Regulus at midnight in the Hospital Wing. “Sorry, it’s just arrived, or I would’ve been sooner,” he continued vaguely, waving a small package around.

Regulus eyed it curiously.

“I….I need to tell you something,” Remus continued, sitting gently on Regulus’s bed. Regulus pulled the covers over his chest more securely, a bit nervous about how close someone else was while he was so….exposed.

“Go on,” he nodded, wondering what was so important that Remus had to sneak into the Hospital in the dead of night. “Has Sirius done something stupid?”

Remus snorted. “No…Sirius wanted to tell you himself, but…” Remus trailed off, and Regulus momentarily worried Sirius had gone and gotten hurt or something, but then Remus met his eyes. “I was there. Last night when they brought you in.”

Regulus felt his heart sink. He’d been so nervous that Barty and Evan would have seen too much when he was brought in. He hadn’t even thought about another student being there already.

“I…I came in at around 4:30…with a migraine,” Remus murmured.

He really did get a lot of migraines, Regulus thought briefly.

“Sirius came with me. So…we were already there. When you came in.” Remus looked a bit awkward as he spoke. As if he wasn’t sure how much to reveal. “They made your friends wait outside. But Sirius refused. And I was…well, I couldn’t leave.” He looked apologetic, now. “They….they healed you. And then…Sirius got very upset, and…well, you should know he did everything possible to protect you. He argued with Pomfrey and Slughorn for a good ten minutes about contacting your parents. He won, in the end. Well, you know how stubborn he is.” Remus shrugged a bit awkwardly.

Regulus waited quietly for the other shoe to drop. He had a sinking feeling, from how Remus was speaking and acting, that there was more to it.

“You should know, Regulus…I’d already guessed. Before last night,” Remus finally sighed, meeting Regulus’s gaze.

His heart sank. He’d guessed? He’d known?

“How?” he whispered. If Sirius had told, he would…he didn’t know how…

“Sirius talked about you, in our first year,” Remus shrugged. “He mentioned…well, he mentioned a sister.”

Both Remus and Regulus winced at that.

“And then he came back from Christmas and he insisted that he’d only ever had a brother. I’m guessing that’s when you…?” Remus asked gently, raising his eyebrows a bit.

Regulus nodded.

“Yeah, so…I tried to ask, but he didn’t seem to be willing to talk about it and…dunno, it’s not my business, is it? So I figured I'd let it go,” Remus shrugged. As if it was the simplest assumption in the world. That it wasn’t his business, so he should just let it be.

Regulus was again overwhelmed by the feeling of thankfulness for Remus Lupin. He was so unassuming…so kind. He’d known (or guessed) for years and had said nothing. Because he’d guessed, rightfully, that Regulus would be uncomfortable with it.

“But it’s my business now, Regulus, because Sirius is going a bit spare,” Remus said a bit louder, looking stressed. “He said…I mean, feel free to tell me to fuck off, but…he said you’re using a bandage for your…?” he used his hand to gesture to his own chest.

Regulus nodded, looking down. “There’s a potion,” he found himself volunteering, strangely comfortable talking about it with Remus. “But I can’t take it. Mother and Father…they’d probably rather I was dead,” he chuckled humorlessly. “Barty and Evan don’t know and….I don’t…they can’t. So this is what I have.”

Remus studied him for a moment, then handed him a package. “You know there are people like you in the Muggle world too, right? My mum’s Muggle, so I was raised in both.”

He shrugged. He’d never really thought about it. “I guess…sure.”

“Well…what do you think they do? Surely they can’t take a potion,” Remus said patiently, like a Professor trying to talk a student through a difficult question.

“They cry?” Regulus volunteered, snorting at his own humor.

Remus smiled a bit. “Well, probably. But also, they have other options.”

“Like?” Regulus asked, feeling a strange bubble of hope in his chest.

“Well, some of them take medicine. It’s like potions for Muggles,” Remus shrugged. “Some of them just….cut things off.”

“What?” Regulus yelped loudly.

They both realized his mistake and whipped their heads around to Pomfrey’s door, but they heard no stirring.

“You’re fucking with me, surely,” he mumbled a bit quieter. How on Earth did Muggles actually survive without accidentally killing themselves?

“Nah,” Remus grinned. “I have a….cousin, I think? She told me about it.”

Regulus gaped for a minute before looking down at the package. “So, what’s in here? A knife? Gonna help me chop off my–”

Remus scoffed. “Sirius would kill me. Plus, Muggles have professionals that do that. No, she also told me about those,” he said, gesturing to the package. “I wrote her for one this morning. Said it was for a friend.” He shrugged.

Even more confused, Regulus ripped open the package to find–

“Is this a fucking bra?” he asked, barely controlling his embarrassment and anger. He almost threw the offending garment across the room in disgust.

“What? No!” Remus said, shaking his head vehemently.

It…looked like a strange mix of a tank top and a sports bra. But, it was missing some of the things Regulus remembered from seeing his mother’s bras. There were no cups, no small hooks, no lace or femininity. Instead, there was just a zipper on each side. And it was…less stretchy? The material had give, but it was a firmer stretch. Like it wasn’t meant to give much leeway.

“It’s a binder,” Remus shrugged. “Muggles use them. They kind of….” he gestured to his own chest again, “suck it all in.”

Regulus stared at the fabric for a few moments. “There are things that are meant for that?” he asked, though it was more out of wonder. Clearly, there were.

“Yeah, so…this is better than what you were using before because it’s meant for that purpose. And these zippers here,” Remus pointed at the two zippers on each side, “loosen it when you need a break. So you don’t end up back here.”

Regulus laughed, half-shocked and half-ecstatic. “Why did you do this for me?”

Remus gave him a weird look again. “Well….first, Sirius has been driving himself crazy. All he wants to do is to help you. To make sure you’re happy. And safe.”

Regulus felt a pang of guilt at that.

“But also….” Remus continued, looking emotional, himself, now. “I…secrets….secrets are hard. And I can…I can…well, I can imagine what it might feel like. To have a secret that you’re so…so scared about people finding out. But it’s…it’s a part of you, and you can’t change it.”

He looked so genuine. So empathetic. So understanding. Regulus swallowed thickly, trying not to let any tears fall.

Remus sighed, “It’s hard, erm, I imagine…when you have a secret like that. And if you can find something that helps…people who support you…I would think that would make it…so much easier. Right?”

There was emotion there. Raw and real, and Regulus had a feeling Remus had his own experiences with secrets. But he was so thankful to have Remus accept him and help him with his own that he decided not to push. For now.

Guys I can't with this chapter. Remus is just so amazing and we love him. Read the full WIP or leave comments or kudos here!

43 notes · View notes

bonebabbles · 1 year ago

Text

Clear Sky Abuse Tally

IT'S THE "HIT" NEW GAME SHOW WHERE WE KEEP A RUNNING LIST OF EVERY TIME CLEAR SKY BATTERS RANDOM PEOPLE

I'm trying to think of how to keep this list... I don't want to be tallying every small thing, but I do want to track the important cases, as well as the lesser ones that people tend to forget.

Important note- I'm starting this list while reading First Battle so the details of the previous books (especially sun trail) will be more broad than later ones. This list isn't complete yet as I'm still re-reading.

Sun Trail:

Screamed at young Jagged Peak and consistently put him down through the Journey

Commanded his cats to enforce borders for no reason, getting several people injured

Broke up Jagged Peak's bonding with Gray Wing during his visit and got into a public fight with pregnant mate Storm, suggesting that he was already being controlling.

Threw Jagged Peak out of his group for becoming disabled

Watched Fox brutalize Gray Wing, doing nothing, until Gray Wing flailed out in self defense (blinded by his own blood leaking into his eyes) and killed him accidentally, at which time Clear Sky accused him of murder

Abandoned baby Thunder

Thunder Rising:

Continues to aggrieve the border with the moor cats

Humiliates Jagged Peak by calling him useless

Lies to Thunder that abandoning him "was a test" that he passed, so he's worthy of his love now

Makes no note about Moon Shadow as they leave, because he is severely burned and ergo no longer useful.

Emotionally manipulates Thunder by saying he can, "stay with the kits" if he doesn't leave with them immediately, preventing him from properly saying goodbye to his adopted family

Brings him to a bunch of charred, unsafe trees to force him to leap around, shouting when he's too cautious and also when he is too fast. This is a manipulation tactic called a Double Bind.

Started expanding borders in spite of having enough food, as the fire didn't reach as far as camp and didn't burn the whole forest.

Slaughtered Misty, who was defending her kits

Suggested killing the kits too

Beat Bumble to death and acted offended that Gray Wing didn't start parroting his fantastic lie

Became so offended that Thunder tried to talk to him about the borders that he constructed a test of loyalty using Frost's life (warning: medical gore)

Publicly humiliated Frost by making him flash his weeping wound at the entire Clan

Exiled him, saying that Frost was 'endangering' the Clan with his weakness

Told the teenage Thunder to bring him away from the territory, "where the maggots can find him," knowing that Thunder wouldn't want to be responsible for the death of a Clanmate

When he refused, he shoved his face into the festering, reeking wound and told him to "lick it clean if he cares so much"

Pushed Thunder in front of a fox that suddenly attacked camp

The First Battle:

Called Falling Feather for a chat alone after overhearing her goodbye to Thunder, and then slashed her face when she called him greedy

Publicly humiliates her, 'feeling pleased' at seeing the guilt in her eyes, and announces she must be punished for displaying disloyalty. “Any cat may give Falling Feather orders. Any cat may take her prey if they wish. She is lower than a snake until she has earned our trust again.”

Brings the orphaned kits, Birch and Alder, out on a training session and forces them to run as fast as him, shaming them when the kittens can't keep up

Smacks Alder when she is uncomfortable about Clear Sky forcing her to do a surprise ambush on Birch

Leaves Birch alone in the woods where the kitten is attacked by a dog

Overhunts to the point of there being several piles of meat, about to spoil

Takes a hostage, Jackdaw's Cry, and starves him for 3 days. "Cats take months to starve, I've seen it in the mountains. Dumb moor cats, always wanting more than they deserve."

Lies that he would keep him safe and fed.

Forces his cats to train with claws out, leaving them collectively bloody and bruised

Does not allow cats to choose their own food, flinging carcasses at them so that they only eat when he allows it.

Tells son Thunder that he shouldn't exist before commanding his cats to attack him

Starts the First Battle over Jackdaw's Cry catching a bat "on his land" after starving him, ending what was supposed to be a peaceful negotiation

When the negotiation patrol jumps up onto a rock he makes it known the intention is murder, “That’s right,” he hissed, “Stay up here and watch your friends die.”

Murders Rainswept Flower when she hadn't attacked him, offended that she called him greedy, boasting that if he hadn't killed her then some other cat would have.

#bonefall reads dotc

48 notes · View notes

arecaceae175 · 2 years ago

Text

Euphoria

My state legislators are trying to violently erase my existence so have some very very super trans drabbles full of trans joy as an act of rebellion. I transed literally everyone’s gender

Warnings: discussion of people who are not women menstruating, discussion of binding and taping practices and semi on-screen application, mention of unsafe binding practices and bruises, brief mention of racism/classism but it’s veeeeery brief and not said by name, dysphoria mentioned

Pronouns:

Time: they/them and xe/xem/xyr

Sky: he/she

Legend: ey/em/eir

Wild: any

Hyrule: they/he

Warriors: he/him

Twilight: he/they

Four: she/they/xe

Wind: trying out different pronouns! Not sure yet!

Time stopped in their tracks, barely avoiding running into three children standing directly in the middle of the pathway. Time blinked, then waved at the children.

“Are you a boy or a girl?” The first child asked.

“Neither,” Time said.

“Then what are you?” The child asked.

The second child gasped, hands flying to their mouth. “Are you a fairy?”

“Or a goddess!” The third child yelled.

Time shrugged and walked away. Xe heard the children’s ‘woah’ behind them and chuckled softly.

~ ~ ▲ ~ ~ ~

“I wore a binder for a long time before I became a soldier. After that I had to get good at taping. I tried wearing a binder at first, but that was not good,” Warriors said with a self-deprecating chuckle.

“I know what you mean,” Twilight said, rubbing his ribs absentmindedly.

“I keep a roll of tape as a reminder of my privilege. I was able to afford the surgery because of my status in the army, but that opportunity isn’t available to most people. Especially poor people or people with darker skin, it’s almost impossible to get it done,” Warriors explained.

“I don’t know many other trans people, but those I do haven’t had it,” Twilight said. “Dusk said she knows someone who can do that kind of thing and offered to pay for mine, but I couldn’t let her do that. I asked for the money to go to someone who needed it more. My dysphoria isn’t too bad, anyway. Tape and bindings work just fine.”

“Okay, I’m coming out,” Hyrule said from behind the tree.

Twilight chuckled. “I think we’ve passed that bit,” they said. Warriors rolled his eyes and groaned, and he heard Hyrule’s soft chuckle from behind the tree.

Hyrule slowly emerged, their tunic clutched to their chest. Warriors already had his shirt off and Twilight pulled his own off. Their chest was taped, and Warriors was impressed with how flat it looked under the shirt.

“It’s pretty hard to do the first few times, so don’t be discouraged if it doesn't look good at first,” Warriors said as Twilight picked up his tape. Twilight unrolled some of the tape and cut two pieces off with a knife.

“This looks about right. This is special tape made just for this, so it shouldn’t hurt your skin,” Twilight said, holding the pieces up for Hyrule to inspect.

“Woah,” Hyrule said, brushing their fingers on the tape. He gasped as soon as his fingers made contact. “It’s enchanted!”

“Sure is,” Twilight said.

“Are you sure there’s enough? I’m sure that isn't easy to get,” Hyrule said.

“I’m sure. The people who make it ask for us to pay what we can. Dusk makes sure the castle keeps them and others like them funded on slow months so everyone can get what they need,” Twilight explained.

Hyrule bit their lip and looked up at Twilight’s chest. Warriors knew from experience this wasn’t easy for either of them, and he admired their courage.

“It looks so natural,” Hyrule muttered.

“It’s safer, too,” Warriors said. Hyrule blushed. Warriors and Twilight had insisted they teach Hyrule proper binding methods after they discovered he was hiding bruises.

“Now, I can demonstrate on myself, or I can describe the process and you can try it privately. It’s easiest if I show you on yourself, but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Twilight said.

“I can go too, if you want less of an audience,” Warriors said.

Hyrule shook their head. “No, stay. I trust both of you, it’s just… hard.”

Warriors felt his expression soften. “I know. We can both understand that.”

Hyrule gave him a small, sad smile. Then they took a breath, steeled their expression, and nodded.

“I’m ready,” Hyrule said, and they very slowly dropped their tunic onto the rock.

“I’ll be quick,” Twilight said as he knelt down in front of Hyrule and began to explain the process.

~ ~ ~ ▲ ~ ~ ~

Wild spun and spun, her skirt flaring out beneath her. Her opal earrings dangled from her ears, signaling today as a she day. She laughed loudly, throwing her arms into the air.

“This is amazing!” Wild said. Legend chuckled and nodded. Ey were leaning against a nearby tree next to Four, both in skirts of their own. Legend’s was pastel purple, Wild’s was a bright green, and Four’s was rainbow.

“Have you never had a skirt like this before?” Four asked. She swayed side to side, letting the skirt swish around their legs.

Wild shook her head. “I have a Gerudo outfit, but it’s pants. And I have a dress from Flora, but it doesn’t flow like this one. This much fabric is hard to come by,” Wild explained.

She finally stopped spinning and flopped onto the ground. “Everything’s spinning,” Wild muttered, clenching her eyes shut. Legend and Four laughed.

A stick broke in the forest behind them. Legend and Four both jumped around with a hand on their weapons. Wild, with great effort, sat up and grabbed her bow.

“Sorry,” Sky said, sheepishly rubbing a hand on the back of her neck.

“Oh, Sky,” Four said, dropping xyr hand. Wild flopped back onto the ground with a moan to protest the movement.

Sky’s face was flushed red, and his hands were pulling on his sailcloth.

Legend narrowed cocked eir head to the side in question. “Everything okay?” Legend asked.

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s good,” Sky said. “I was just wondering… if you had any more skirts? And if I could try one on?”

Four’s face lit up. “Of course!”

“Yeah, I’ve got loads,” Legend said, kneeling down to dig through eir bag. Ey deliberated for only a moment, then pulled out a skirt in a deep red color.

“This one will look good on you,” Legend said, holding it out to Sky.

“Thank you,” Sky said sincerely as he took the skirt. “I mean it, I really appreciate this.”

Legend waved away the praise, ducking eir head to hide eir smile. “Don’t mention it. Just get it on and join the twirling party.”

~ ~ ~ ▲ ~ ~ ~

“Have you noticed we’re the only two in the group who use one set of pronouns?” Legend asked.

Warriors ran through the list in his head, then nodded. “Huh, you’re right. I’m the only one of us that fits within the traditional binary, too.”

Legend wrinkled eir nose. “Gross. I don’t like being in any sort of group with a man,” Ey said with a smirk.

“Hey!” Warriors said, jumping to his feet. Legend jumped up as well and took off into the forest, laughter echoing behind em. “Get back here!”

~ ~ ~ ▲ ~ ~ ~

“Time, why do you use they and xe pronouns?” Wind asked.

Time was expecting this question. Wind had been asking all of them individually, trying to figure out which pronouns fit.

“I don’t feel much of a connection to gender,” Time said. “I prefer neutral pronouns.”

“What do you mean?” Wind asked, head tilted to the side.

Time allowed themself a moment to process the question and come up with a suitable answer. This was important to Wind, so they wanted to be sure xyr answer was good.

“Warriors has always known he’s a man. He felt it even before he had the language to describe it. Wild feels like so many different genders, and uses earrings to signal different pronouns because they feel their gender identity strongly every day.

“I wasn’t raised with a concept of gender. Even when I was exposed to different genders I never felt like any of them fit. When I left where I grew up, it was the first time people perceived me as my gender. What they assumed it was, at least. It didn’t feel right. I don’t know how to describe it better than that,” Time said.

Wind was watching xem with wide eyes, absorbing every word. “I’m not sure what gender I feel like, either,” Wind said.

“That’s okay,” Time said.

“Maybe I’ll try they? I like that better than he or she, I think. Maybe,” Wind said with a small frown.

“You don’t have to use any pronouns if you don’t want to,” Time said.

“How would that work?” Wind asked.

“We can refer to you with your name instead of pronouns,” Time said. Wind was silent for a moment, thinking about Time’s offer.

“I’ll keep that in mind. For now, I want to try they,” Wind decided.

“They it is,” Time agreed. "If it doesn't feel right, you can try something else."

Wind beamed.

~ ~ ~ ▲ ~ ~ ~

Twilight was curled into a tight ball. His uterus burned, and spikes of pain shot through their body every time they moved. The first day of his cycle was always the worst. The pain was nearly incapacitating.

“Hey, Twi,” Wild said, laying a gentle hand on Twilight’s back.

Twilight groaned in response.

“That bad, huh?” Wild asked. Twilight nodded. They moved the blanket very slightly, just enough to peek an eye out and check Wild’s earrings. Amber.

“Can you sit up? I brought some tea. It’s Hyrule’s special recipe. They were excited to share it. And I added some honey,” Wild said. They held a steaming mug in their hands. Warm tea sounded heavenly, but moving most certainly did not.

Twilight sighed deeply, then braced himself to move. As soon as he started, Wild’s hands were on his arms and back to help. Between the two of them, they got Twilight propped against a tree. Twilight shut his eyes and clenched a fist in his blankets, trying their best to focus on breathing through the pain.

“Okay?” Wild asked once Twilight’s breathing calmed down.

“Yeah,” Twilight mumbled. “Tea?”

“Here,” Wild said. They gently grabbed Twilight’s wrist and brought his hand up to the mug.

Twilight took a sip and felt the tension in his body release as the warmth spread through him. There was a slight bitterness in the tea that Twilight could just barely taste. Wild must have snuck some pain relief potion in, and used the honey to mask the taste. Normally Twilight would protest, but they figured the group could spare one potion. He would feel the same if it was any of the others.

“Thank you,” Twilight said, cracking open their eyes.

Wild smiled widely and nodded. “No problem. I have more water boiling for a hot pack, too. I’ll bring it when it’s ready.”

Twilight smiled gratefully as Wild tucked the blanket more firmly around his shoulders.

~ ~ ~ ▲ ~ ~ ~

Legend gasped loudly, running up and grabbing the cloth with both hands.

“That!” Ey exclaimed loudly. “That is the most gender confusing piece of clothing I’ve ever seen! I have to have it.”

Sky cocked her head to the side as he inspected the item. “What is it?”

“A dress? Or a long tunic? But it has shorts? What’s going on with the top there?” Wind said, running their hands over the fabric.

“The top looks so masculine, but the bottom looks feminine,” Sky said.

“This will be a perfect addition to my collection,” Legend said.

“What collection?” Wind asked.

“My collection of clothes to confuse cis people,” Ey said. Sky and Wind laughed.

~ ~ ~ ▲ ~ ~ ~

Four jumped at the click of Wild’s slate. Wild brought the slate down and stared at the photo with a small, genuine smile on their face.

“What is it?” Four asked. Wild came to sit beside them, slate tucked against their chest.

“You said you’ve been feeling more feminine lately, and you’ve been feeling a bit dysphoric about it,” Wild said. Four’s face flushed slightly as she nodded.

“The light is shining just right, and you look like a princess right now,” Wild explained. They moved the slate in front of Four, and Four gasped once xe looked at the image on the screen.

Wild was right. Four looked like a princess. Their skirt flared out in a wide circle, and her tight tunic accentuated their body’s curves. Xyr hair was braided in a half up half down style, and the hairstyle combined with the angle of the photo made her features look more feminine than usual. Four felt a pressure behind her eyes as she stared at the image.

“Thank you, Wild,” Four said. Wild put an arm around Four’s shoulder and squeezed her tightly against their side.

~ ~ ~ ▲ ~ ~ ~

“What term do Groose and Sun use for you?” Time asked.

“They use boyfriend and girlfriend,” Sky answered. His eyes got that special look in them, the one that meant she was daydreaming about her partners.

“They started out saying boyfriend. Once I started exploring my gender, Groose called me his girlfriend and it was such an incredible feeling. They use them both interchangeably, now, and I get that amazing feeling every single time,” Sky said.

Time smiled widely at Sky’s joy.

“What about you? What do you and Malon use?” Sky asked.

“Malon likes to be called my wife. Publicly, she calls me her partner. The term isn’t my favorite, but we haven’t come up with anything else that sounds better,” Time said.

“And privately?” Sky asked with a smirk.

“She’s quite… creative,” Time said. Sky laughed and covered her head with her sailcloth.

~ ~ ~ ▲ ~ ~ ~

“Excuse me.”

Warriors glanced up in surprise. A small child was standing at his side, nervously wringing their hands in their shirt.

“Hello, there. Is everything okay?” Warriors asked.

The child nodded. “My mommy sent me for herbs, but I can’t reach the shelf. Can you help me please?”

“Of course. Which one do you need?” Warriors asked. The child pointed, and Warriors grabbed the item off the shelf. “Is this enough?”

“Thank you, sir!” The child nodded with a smile and sped off to the payment counter.

Sir.

Warriors felt joy flutter in his chest. That feeling never got old.

77 notes · View notes

jrmytxt · 5 months ago

Text

Bandages

Fandom: Metal Fight Beyblade Characters: Masamune Kadoya, Kyouya Tategami Relationship: Masamune Kadoya/Kyouya Tategami, Masamune Kadoya & Kyouya Tategami Summary: 5 times Masamune saw Kyouya bind (and 1 time he didn't) Warnings: Binding with bandages/Unsafe binding Genre: Fluff Word Count: 2221 Notes: This is supposed to be shippy, but nothing much shippy happens until the end and even then it's not that explicit, so, really, if you'd prefer this as a platonic story, you can read it as such! Happy pride month, enjoy my Trans!Kyouya fic!

I'll post the entire story after the cut, so I don't have to make multiple posts

READ ON AO3

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

On TV

The first time Masamune ever saw Kyouya was on TV. Battle Bladers was popular enough to get a single time slot on an American channel. It wasn’t prime-time but that worked, because Masamune didn’t need to split his time with Zeo or Toby.

Kyouya was powerful, he could admit that. Powerful and maybe even a bit intimidating. Watching him battle never got boring, and he had to say he was always glued to the screen whenever he was on.

One thing that perplexed him about the other was his style of clothing, though. Everything seemed torn and ripped, but not in a natural way. Not like regular wear and tear, and Masamune wondered of the guy ripped them on purpose to seem cool and edgy.

The bare midriff wasn’t necessarily doing him any favors either, even if it wasn’t a bad view. Especially when, during one match, the wind made his shirt ride up and revealed… bandages? A frown had spread over Masamune’s face when he’d seen that. Was the guy hurt? And yet he was still battling? That was peculiar, and probably not very good, but Masamune had to admit that he was a bit impressed. He had to meet that guy, and he had to battle him.

2. During Battle

When Masamune did finally face Kyouya in battle, it was a tag team match. He was a little bit disappointed, if he was being honest, but he’d make do with what he got. During this championship he’d long since realized that there were much stronger opponents out there, and that he had to take any training he could get, especially regarding situations he still needed to master.

After all, what good would it be to be a Jack of all trades, but master of none?

The disappointment did however persist, when that Kyouya fellow pretty much completely ignored his existence in favor of screaming at Gingka instead. Not that that seemed entirely unbelievable, but still, he was there too after all! He knows he did tell Gingka that he could take on Kyouya and that he’d have his own rematch with Nile. It would have been nice to get recognized, though.

A frown spread over his face and he glanced over to Gingka and then to Kyouya. Both of them sank to the ground, still very much exhausted from their last match against each other. He looked at Nile, who was similarly distracted, and another glance at Kyouya made him notice, once again, the bandages underneath the other’s shirt.

His brows furrowed in confusion (and concern), and he wondered how badly he must’ve hurt himself in the last battle if he needed that many bandages. Sure, he seemed a bit bruised and beaten up, much like Gingka, but that seemed unnecessary. Maybe this tag team battle had been a bad idea. Neither Gingka nor Kyouya were in any condition to fight.

Those thoughts were quickly wiped from his mind, though, when he had to focus back on the battle and he pushed them away.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

3. In the hospital

The final battle against Nemesis cost everyone. A lot of them sustained injuries bad enough they had to go to the hospital, Gingka especially. Amongst those people had been Kyouya as well, and Masamune debated whether to pay the other boy a visit or not. He was already there for Gingka anyway, and so far he still hadn’t really had a chance to just have a regular conversation with the other. The few times they’d seen each other was during the championships and world-ending catastrophes, and that didn’t really leave any time for bonding.

Following the directions a nurse had given him, he stood in front of the hospital room and debated his decision. It would be weird, right? To just go in there, and exclaim he was here to see Kyouya. The other probably didn’t even remember his name. Or maybe he thought him annoying. The last thought didn’t matter, he decided, because when had that ever bothered him? So, with as much bravado as he could muster, he opened up the door to the room and came face to face with a horrified Kyouya.

“Idiot! Don’t you know how to knock?!”

The other huffed, and underneath the disgruntled and angry expression on his face, Masamune noticed a slight blush, that got hidden when the other hurried to pull a shirt over his head.

This time he’d seen the bandages clear as day, but it wasn’t surprising. Not this time. He’d sustained pretty serious injuries, and Masamune didn’t doubt that he’d broken a few ribs.

“Your chest always gets it the worst, huh?” “What? What’s that supposed to mean?!” “Well, whenever you’re injured you’re always wearing bandages around your chest. How often have you broken your ribs at this point?”

Kyouya’s expression was not what Masamune would have expected. Instead of a scowl, or a glare, the other seemed surprised, and almost a bit worried. He averts his eyes and crosses his arms in front of his chest, almost as if to hide it.

“You noticed?” “Well, yeah. You wore bandages after your weird exhaustion battle with Gingka. And when I saw you on Battle Bladers you were wearing them, too. By the way you really shouldn’t fight when you’re injured.”

Kyouya seemed alarmed, his eyes widening.

“It was on TV?!” And before Masamune could respond, Kyouya took a deep breath, very obviously forcing his expression from alarm to an indifferent scowl. An expression Masamune had gotten used to seeing on Kyouya, but never before had he noticed how fake it looked. “You watched me on TV?”

Masamune decided he wouldn’t push the matter any further, because it simply wasn’t his place. Him and Kyouya barely knew each other. Instead he grinned and nodded, taking a seat on one of the chairs close to Kyouya’s bed.

“Sure did. Battle Bladers might not have been a prime-time event in America, but I watched all of it. And I was rooting for you.” A grin. “You were pretty powerful. Still are. You impressed me, and I’m not easy to impress!”

Kyouya’s lips tugged up into a smirk and Masamune realized that it was the right thing to say. After all, that was exactly what he needed. A good conversation starter. And who didn’t like listening to other people praising them?

“I thought ‘Wow, I have to meet that guy’. And even if you didn’t win, you still left an impact. The same thing can be said for the world championships. You know, I was pretty disappointed that I didn’t get to properly battle you. I’d been planning on that.” He stuck out his tongue. “So I’m challenging you to a battle whenever you’re feeling better.”

That, too, seemed to be the right thing to say, because Kyouya’s smirk widened.

“You got guts, coming in here when I’m injured and challenging me to a battle. I’m sure I could kick your butt even with all my injuries. You’ll see!” “But that wouldn’t be any fun, would it? I want you at full strength!”

With that the ice was broken, and Masamune spent a lot longer talking to Kyouya than he’d originally intended. They’d hit it off, surprisingly, and Masamune had to admit Kyouya did seem like an alright guy to hang around, and he hoped the Leone blader thought the same.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

4. In the Dungeon Gym

In hindsight, Masamune really should have realized it sooner.

Right from the start it should have been obvious that those bandages Kyouya wore, were not to treat injured ribs. If he’d been paying any closer attention he’d have realized sooner that they were crude and not professional. They weren’t even wrapped the way they should be to actually help. Hell, they barely even covered all his ribs.

But, in his defense, Masamune didn’t intent on dedicating a lot of time staring at Kyouya’s chest. Sure, the sight wouldn’t have been bad, but it would have been weird regardless. Even now that they’re friends (acquaintances? Masamune wasn’t sure how close they really were, though Kyouya at least liked him enough to pay him a visit when he was in America), he wouldn’t just stare. It was rude and he wouldn’t even know how to explain himself when Kyouya inevitably noticed.

Now though? Standing in the changing room of the Dungeon Gym, Masamune noticed clear as day that those bandages Kyouya wore were not because he hurt himself. He knew Kyouya hadn’t even intended for him to notice, because he hadn’t even intended to change, but his shirt got dirty, and there was really no way around it, especially when Coach Steel had so graceously offered the other boy a shirt.

“You’re binding.” “What?!” “Those bandages. You’re not hurt, you’re binding.”

Saying it out loud now, somehow, it seemed like the most obvious thing in the world. With the way Kyouya’s voice occasionally cracked. The secrecy with his clothes, the coats that hid his hips. His features. Suddenly everything made sense.

Kyouya, on the other hand, was not at all thrilled with Masamune’s sudden realization, and he glanced around quickly, seemingly making sure they were completely alone.

“How did you find that out?!” Masamune scoffs at the question. “The way you bandage your chest. It’s crude. It’s not even reaching your ribs!” He sighs at that. “Do you know how unhealthy that is? Why don’t you use a binder?!”

The realization that Kyouya was trans really didn’t shock him as much as the fact that Kyouya was completely reckless with his binding.

Immediately Kyouya assumed a defensive position, pulling his shirt over his head and crossing his arms. He had his back turned to Masamune now, and Masamune felt frustrated by the simple notion.

“It’s not that easy when you don’t have someone that can get it for you,” Kyouya huffed eventually and Masamune quickly got the hint that Kyouya’s family probably wasn’t the most supportive. It’s not as if Kyouya could just randomly order one, either. A frown spread over his face and he thought for a moment.

“Well,” he began, a little sheepishly. “There’s a store nearby. We could go and get you one.”

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

5. In the store

Masamune stood by idly, waiting for Kyouya to be done with whatever measurements the clerks needed to take. He was glad he was able to convince the other after all, Kyouya having been skeptical about Masamune’s intentions, because, apparently, Kyouya didn’t understand basic human decency. Not that it surprised him, from what he’d heard about the other, he had a tendency to be a douche.

He wondered if the other’s constant fight response was due to some underlying insecurities. Whatever the case, Kyouya had definitely internalized toxic masculinity. Masamune hoped, maybe a bit selfishly, that this experience would be a formative one for the other, and he’d grow. Just a bit.

On their way there, it became apparent that Kyouya did not have any money. Or at least any valid American currency, and Masamune, naive, and kind, and wanting to impress him, proudly boasted that he’d pay for it. And while, yes, his own parents had more than enough money, he only had so much as his monthly allowance, but he supposed he’d just have to cut back on the snacks this month.

When Kyouya finally stepped out of the changing booth, though, Masamune decided it was definitely worth it to see the smile the other wore.

It was the first time he’d ever seen Kyouya give a genuine smile. Not a smirk, not something condescending. But a real, proper, genuine smile. He couldn’t help the grin that spread over his face when Kyouya stood in front of him, moving a bit, letting him look at different angles.

“How does it feel?” “Way better than bandages. How do I look?” “Way better than with the bandages.”

That got a laugh out of the other, and Masamune’s grin widened impossibly.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

+1. In the hospital

Kyouya was awake when the nurses moved him back into the room, and Masamune let out a breath of relief he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Sure, this was a standard procedure, obviously it was, but still, it was a surgery, and surgeries were something big. It seemed, though, that the other was fine and Masamune gave him a smile, moving to sit at the other’s bedside as soon as the nurses would allow him to.

“How do you feel?” he asks, taking the other’s hand in his. Kyouya gives a tired grin in return, squeezing his hand and closing his eyes. “Like a new man.”

Masamune couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him and gently he kissed the back of Kyouya’s hand, making the other join into his laughter. It felt wonderful, seeing Kyouya so carefree and happy. So genuine and real, something that almost seemed impossible during their youth. But things had changed. They’ve grown up, they’ve gotten older, wiser, and mellowed out a bit.

Masamune wasn’t the hyper-energetic whirlwind he used to be (although he had his moments), and Kyouya had actually learned how to be a decent person (for the most part).

“I prefer you like this,” Masamune said with a small grin, and Kyouya rolled his eyes, though the smirk on his lips was fond. “Titless?” “Happy.”

He’d happily accept the slap to his arm if it meant seeing Kyouya blush.

#metal fight beyblade #masamune kadoya #kyouya tategami #kyoya tategami #kadogami #my writing

4 notes · View notes

newsies-are-the-new-best-thing · 6 months ago

Text

To define your role

Part 7 of my trans Davey series, 'my courage, found'

TW: gender dysphoria, unsafe binding, anxiety, mentions of injury, misgendering

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

Sneaking back into his room, tie hanging loose around his neck and vest sloppily buttoned, Davey realizes the night is half gone. City as quiet as it will ever get, hushed conversations and the smell of cheap alcohol and cigar smoke drifting on the lazy breeze, telling of good times and poor decisions. Davey craves to be wherever those people are, maybe at Medda’s theater, anywhere else than returning home, would rather lose the few pennies he used to have stored away in bad bets than face whatever is waiting for him. After climbing up the rusty ladder to the ledge outside his room, he stares out over the darkened city, gas lamps merging and forming the golden veins that he can just barely make out. A wave of exhaustion overwhelms him as he slips into his room, and he feels the weight of the past day press in, bearing down on top of the already tumultuous week. He makes his way toward his dresser, tugging off his clothes and undoing the loose bindings. Stifling a yawn, he glances down and takes notice of the state of his chest. Bruises, dark purple turning to sickly yellow, molted along his ribs in an obvious mirror of the wraps. A sinking, anxious gnawing returns to his stomach, as he carefully runs a hand over the bruises, wincing at the pain he feels. Stupidly, he had bound his chest flatter than normal that morning, desperate to hide it away from himself, and then the heat had caused sweat to dampen the cloth enough for it to tighten even more. And with the torrent of worry that was storming inside earlier in the evening, it’s no wonder he couldn’t breathe in the alley. Sighing as much as his aching ribs would allow, he undresses carefully and shoves away his clothes. Exhaustion presses in, smothering most of his remaining consciousness and he lets himself collapse onto his bed, falling into what he knew would be a restless sleep.

The realization hits the moment he wakes, eyes blearily catching on the chipping plaster walls, smile spreading across his face and a wild feeling in his heart, there is someone else like him! Last night’s tiredness had overshadowed the reality-shattering realization that Davey wasn’t alone in his experience, that he wasn’t just some messed-up anomaly of the world, that he wasn’t imagining his own feelings. A deep-seated rightness settles into his bones, into the very core of his being, as Davey replays his encounter with Spot over and over in his mind. An excitement, heady and freeing, pierces inside, slightly different than the honeyed ache he feels when he went out as himself but just as sweet. Clinging tight to it, Davey swallows down his rising fear, and faces the morning.

He feels a near hysterical laugh threaten to bubble up, as he waves goodbye to his mother and sister, Les bounding ahead of him, boisterous energy a grave danger to the rickety wood stairs. The thrilling feeling from when he woke clings to his mind, jumbling with the staggering relief of this morning. There was no hint of anything being different. No hint that his family knew his secret. No hint that Jack had blown open the whole alternate life Davey is living. No one had mentioned anything strange besides Sarah hounding him for taking so long to get back last night and to gossip about how interesting Jack was (Sarah spends the whole near one-sided conversation without a hint of blushing so Davey dismisses it, wondering why his sister bothered with pretending to like so many boys).

During breakfast, his mother asked after his job search, and he guiltily lied about finding a job as a laundress a few blocks away which caused Sarah to narrow her eyes, as if she could see through the deception. But she made no attempt to uncover it, so Davey forced himself to ignore it. When their mother thanked them for yesterday’s earnings, calling Les a good son for doing his part, a lump forced its way into Davey’s throat and a complex mix of emotions, mainly irritation, appeared on Les’s face. After recovering from the uncomfortable silence that fell over breakfast, the conversation moved to lighter topics. While discussing the dinner with Jack, his mother said nothing odd other than to mention how sweet Jack had been, "lovely company but a bit confused, he’s a great boy though, I’m glad Les has someone like that to sell with, that he has someone who can act like an older brother to him." Which cut something inside, a harsh pang that he couldn’t be seen as the brother Les already has, but he knew Jack was a good substitute.

Pushing away the ache that’s been gnawing on his ribs since he donned his corset and the disgust that rises when he feels the twisting of his skirts around his legs, Davey marches after Les who is leading the way to the alley. Doing the same stunt as the day before, Davey climbs back inside, Les waiting quietly below, having not spoken a word to Davey all morning. Binding his chest is much more painful than he’s used to, but he ignores it as much as he can, tying it looser and breathing shallower in hopes to alleviate some of the pressure. Frowning at the more obvious shape, Davey curses silently at himself again for causing the situation, annoyance and disgust mixing poorly with the pain as he exits back out the window.

While walking to the distribution gate, a stagnant, lingering heat already bearing down on them though the sun is just barely peaking over the cloud-dusted horizon, Davey attempts to get the full details of yesterday’s dinner from Les. Clearing his throat quietly and trying to find his lower pitch, Davey looks over at Les and asks.

“How was dinner last night?”

Les seems to ponder the question for a moment before his face breaks into a saddened frown and he looks up at Davey with watery eyes. Fear washes over Davey and he gently grips Les’s shoulder and steers his younger brother towards a vacant alley entrance.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, ignoring the filth-covered bricks of the street and kneeling to face Les better.

Quiet voice struggling to be heard over the din of the rising city, Les answers “I’m sorry for asking Jack to come over, I jus’ forgot and wanted him to keep staying and talking with us, an’ then they kept talkin’ like about you wrong an’ I couldn’t say anything.”

A painful sympathy slices his heart and Davey tugs Les into a crushing hug, pushing away the ache that flares in his ribs. Les clings to him tightly and sniffles quietly into his vest, twisting Davey’s heart even more and causing guilt to flourish in his gut.

“It’s fine Les” he says lowly once Les stops gripping him, releasing him to look him in the eyes, hand still grasping the other’s shoulder in comfort “I’m just glad that nothing changed after Jack came, I thought for sure he or Sarah’d figure it out” a smile, small and hollow, forced it’s way onto his lips.

A brighter smile appears on Les’s face as he scrubs at his eyes “No, none of them figured it out. They were so confused too, Jack kept asking about you and said he met Sarah.” Davey stands, smile feeling more genuine the longer he listens to Les talk.

“But Sarah didn’t remember meeting him and even I don’t know what he was talkin’ about.”

Davey cringes inside and explains the event to Les, “I ran into him accidentally a few months ago, right after I first started meeting up with them, and he sort of recognized me, so I told him I was Sarah.”

“But you just ran off? Why?”

Heat flushes his face and Davey turns away in attempt to hide it, staring at the river of morning personalities, gruff looking factory workers, chattering delivery men, and laughing seamstresses bustling up and down the street, “I didn’t know what else to do, besides you and Sarah were wondering where I was.

Les laughs at him.

They continue on their commute after that, Les in a much better mood, laugh bright and an entirely too long list of questions poised for Davey, that included how Davey met the newsies which then led to even more inquiries.

“Why’d you ask Jack to stay?” Les asks right before they reach the distribution gate, stopping from where he had been hopping over certain bricks in a bizarre game and looking up at Davey.

It’s a fair question to ask, one that Davey doesn’t really have an answer to. Half his mind was still preoccupied with Snyder’s chase and the fear that appeared in Jack’s eyes and tremor in his hands, he’d wanted to offer some sort of comfort to the other, a sanctuary like the other had given him. Another reason could have been that there was a portion of himself, twisted deep inside, that maybe wanted him to get caught in his lies, for the worry and fear to be over, to be finally seen as who he was even if it meant destroying his life. His mind is a tangle of thoughts too interwoven for him to try and begin to unravel but Davey tries anyways, he owes as much to Les who had to face the whole situation on his own and still kept his secret safe.

“…I think my mind was all turned around… I wanted Jack to meet Sarah and Ma since I’ve met most of his family. I somehow wanted to give him some of the comfort that his family’s given me.” Davey says.

Les seems to ponder Davey’s response for a moment and then nods and asks another question and they continue.

He should have kept his mouth shut, shouldn’t have let his newfound courage boil up inside. Should have bit his tongue ‘til it bled just to keep quiet. Because now, now, Jack has the insane idea that Davey spout out, implanted in his mind. The idea that the newsies, a haphazard group that he truly liked but had no amount of real organization or motivation, could strike. Could stage a strike that would get results that even the trolly workers, hardened battered world-wise men, couldn’t get after weeks of fighting.

Cause Davey knows the world, no matter how different Jack’s or anyone else’s situation was to his. Knows that the likelihood of their success was near zero, that they would get crushed before they even began. And he can’t face that, can’t face his friends bruised and bloody with nothing to show. Can’t face his mother with empty pockets and see her face shatter and split with grief. Can’t face his failures of being the son he so desperately wants to prove he can be. That’s the truth of it, because despite all his efforts, worry and sleepless nights trying to separate and hide who he is from most everyone in his life, he still feels as if he has to prove himself to his family, to the world, to prove in some subconscious way that he deserves to live as he wishes, that he earned the right to dress as the boy he is and sell papers with Les. That he could prove that he could live the role society had outlined for the first-born son no matter how stifling it felt, still thousands of times better than the one he’d have to play as daughter. That Davey could care for his family, that he could be the man he knows he is.

Grabbing at Les’s hand, head once again swarming with tangled worries, Davey spits out at Jack, sharp and worried,

“Leave me out of this, I can’t afford to not sell”

He turns and tugs at a reluctant Les to follow him away from the others. Confused shouts echo off the nearby bricks, causing his stomach to churn.

“Oh, and you thinks we can?” Jack cuts back, jumping after him and catching his shoulder in attempt to stop him “jus’ cause we make pennies don’t give them the right to rub out noses in it”

Davey drops Les’s hand and spins to face Jack, twisting insides sloshing about in a nauseating rhythm, “that’s not what I meant, it’s just my family’s counting on me-”

“Yeah, and all the others are countin’ on me.”

“You, can’t strike, you’re not a union-”

“And what if I says we is”

“A union needs membership-”

Jack gestures to the rest of the newises piled upon crates behind him in various states of anger, fear, and confusion, “woulda call these fellas?”

Race smiles and waves at Davey, Les, the little traitor, copies him from where he’s clutching onto the other’s back.

“And you need officers-” Davey says, exasperated.

“I nominate Jack as president” Crutchie shouts over the mounting ruckus of increasingly excited newsies. Jack smiles brightly at that, smug look upon his face and Davey begins to feel doubt creep in.

“…. a statement of purpose-” he argues back.

“Oh, I musta’ left that in my other pants” Jack says sarcastically, “don’t ya’ thinks that ya’ father would still have a job ifs he hads a union?”

And that slices something inside Davey, cuts into the depths of his tumbling thoughts of identity and place in society. His father had, just like the newsies, been victim to a whim of some heartless rich bully who was able to decide the fate of dozens with one decision. And despite Davey’s own hesitations and reservations, he finally had the chance to fight against the injustice unlike before, could finally do something rather than helplessly sit by and watch. A bubble of residing anger for his father’s situation stews inside, pushing away his worries, causing him to begrudgingly agree with Jack,

“Yeah-” he says quietly.

“So” Jack says loudly, moving back towards the others, jumping onto a crate and looking out over the boys, “our union is hereby formed ta’ watch each other’s backs. Union’d we stand…. Hey that’s not bad, someone write that down.”

Les calembours off Race to eagerly offer Jack a pencil, quickly being named “Secretary of State”. Davey watches, fiddling with the strap of his bag, stuck with a dozen different thoughts spinning in his mind. Just as he’s sure he’s about once again spiral into the depths of his mind, Jack’s obvious lack of knowledge regarding unions rears its head.

“Now whats?” Jack calls out, looking towards Davey with a hopeful expression.

“If you want a strike, the membership’s got to vote.” Davey responds over the muttering of the newsies and the rising sounds of the rest of the city.

“So, we’ll vote. Wadda ya say fellas?”

And, although his heart is a mess of nerves and doubt, Davey let’s the outrage and anger of the newsies sweep over him, let’s himself force away the worries that grow like relentless briars inside. Let's the strength he saw in Spot last night inspire him, lets the courage he's began to feel, overwhelm everything else . And just as he did for himself, he does what he believes is right, in spite of the dangerous consequences. He decides to strike.

#newsies #trans davey jacobs #jack kelly #racetrack higgins #crutchie morris #les jacobs #davey jacobs #newsies fanfiction

4 notes · View notes

numberoneatsushidefender · 1 year ago

Text

✍︎KUNIKIDA HEADCANONS!! ✍︎

TW: MENTIONED SU!C!D3, BULLYING, DEATH OF A CHILD, DEPRESSION, IMPLIED CHILD ABUSE, HOMOPHOBIA, CENSORED SLURS, MENTIONS OF SHOOTING, UNSAFE BINDING, IMPLIED SH, IMPLIED FORMER SH, AND ABLEISM

•He is a Polyamorous Pansexual

•Cis male, uses He/Him pronouns but doesn’t mind if you use others

•He has Autism, OCD, Depression, and is partially deaf

•He has two moms

•He knows sign language, Morse code, and a little bit of English

•He was bullied in school a lot

•Has a soft spot for kids(Will never admit to this)

•Back in school, kids would write words like “F*g” and “R3t@rd” on his locker

•He went to his moms about this and they contacted the school who said they would look into it, they never did.

•Kunikida had to transfer schools over 40 times due to bullying

•He was diagnosed with depression at age 13

•His Mama is a gardener and works at the local botanical garden, so Kunikida is really good with plants

•His Mother is a former police captain but got shot on the job, paralyzing her, however that didn’t stop her from starting a five star restaurant

•The Sperm-Donor is actually really close to the family, Kunikida calls him Uncle Hirotaka, Hirotaka is his Mamas childhood friend, and he’s a scientist and works with his husband

•He has hearing aids and sometimes when Dazai is annoying him he just turns them off

•He bought Dazai(AFAB) who is Genderfluid a binder and taught him how to bind properly and then told him why you should never bind with bandages

•Dazai legitimately hugged him over this and promised to do his work for the entire day

•When they met Atsushi who was also binding with bandages, When Kunikida finds this out he immediately goes over and takes him shopping, buying him a binder.

•When they got back to the dorms he called Dazai over and asked if he could teach Atsushi how to bind(Dazai agrees)

•Atsushi hugged them both that day, and Kunikida grew 10x more protective

•Grew up Christian, however became Agnostic as he grew up

•He lets Naomi, Atsushi, Tanizaki, and Haruno do his hair when ever they’re nervous

•He drives the 18’s (Haruno, Atsushi, Tanizaki, and Naomi) places

•Kunikida is one of the only people to have ever seen what’s under Dazais bandages(It was an accident and Dazai was scared Kunikida would judge him, but instead, Kunikida showed him his own still fading scars

•He helps Dazai wrap his bandages, and kisses Dazais scars, telling him: “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.” Or “Your radiance is unmatched.”

•Dazai always cries whenever he is told this because he knows Kunikida means it

•Dazai and Kunikida have matching jewelry(Dazai has a rose-gold ring and Kunikida has a silver earring)

•He has pictures of his friends on his wall

•His favorites are the ones where you can see Atsushi getting to be a child or doing something for the first time

•He and Katai were friends in Highschool(They were both nerds)

•Kunikida has a semicolon tattoo on his wrist

•Sometimes if an Agency member (especially those who he sees as children ex: Atsushi, Tanizaki, Naomi etc) does overtime and falls asleep at their desk Kunikida will drape a blanket over them and move them to the couch to sleep

•He made a promise to himself that he would protect Atsushi

•He checks in on everyone if they haven’t shown up or if they seem a bit sad

•Easily flustered

•His favorite poem book is called “Poems in Two Volumes”(If you know anything about the IRL Kunikida Doppo you know what I’m referencing)

•He is allergic to gelatin and his allergies go haywire when it’s spring

•He was that one teacher that all the students really liked because while he was strict he was lenient if needed and very caring, and also extremely protective of his students

•He had two students Mamoru Miyano and Uemura Yuto who he worried a lot about. Miyano was a suicidal teenager who’s father was involved in a gang. And Uemura was an orphan who often came to school covered in bruises, Uemura had a tiger plush he liked to carry around(THIS IS IMPORTANT)

•Uemura was a top student and never skipped class, so when he was absent for an entire week everyone was worried. He was filed as a missing person and the friend group he was in (+Kunikida) stayed on top of the case

•A few weeks later it had been discovered that Uemura was killed by the head of his orphanage after being left out in the snow as punishment

•Miyano spiraled and didn’t talk to anyone a few weeks later Kunikida found the tiger plush and decided to take it to Uemuras gravesite, that’s when he saw something hanging from a tree

•Upon closer inspection he found that it was a person so he ran over, and he realized it was Miyano. Despite doing everything he could, Miyano was unable to be resuscitated

•Kunikida quit his job after this

•When he joined the agency the members just reminded him of his students, but when he met Dazai he almost had a breakdown because of how familiar it was

•He ended up confiding in Dazai about what happened in his teaching career

•When they met Atsushi, Kunikida straight up cried upon getting back to the dorms, because of how much like Uemura he was

•He made a promise to protect Dazai and Atsushi

•During his teaching career he and another teacher sponsored a club called the “Detective Club” which was comprised of 10 members. Mamoru and Uemura were in this club

•Those students are in college now and refused to believe the news about Kunikida being a terrorist

•He is a college dropout

•He has a list of everyone’s triggers and makes sure to avoid them

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #ada #hcs #bungou stray dogs kunikida #kunikida doppo #kunikida hcs #bsd kunikida #kunikida headcanons #angst #doppo bsd #doppo kunikida

10 notes · View notes

ao3feed-fratt · 2 years ago

Text

Have Mercy On The Sinners And Saints

read it on the AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/46571866

by anxiouswebhead

After being beaten to an unconcious state by Pointdexter while trying to protect Karen from getting hurt, Matt is hurt pretty bad, broken bones and bruises, ears ringing from the loudness of the gunshots. He's almost read to give up until he hears a voice in the dark, and thinks to himself, 'help is here, lord have mercy on the sinners and saints'.

Frank Castle shows up at the Bulletin, knowing his friend Karen was here and he was protective of those close to him, but he got one good look at the red-suited devil and knew it wasn't Red, not the man his complex emotions danced around. So he did the reasonable thing and started asking questions.

Words: 3756, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 1 of Sparks Aren't So Hard To FInd Among Hellfire

Fandoms: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: M/M

Characters: Frank Castle, Matt Murdock, Wilson Fisk, Billy Russo

Relationships: Frank Castle/Matt Murdock

Additional Tags: Past Frank Castle/Billy Russo, Protective Frank Castle, Bisexual Frank Castle, Angry Frank Castle, Top Frank Castle, Frank Castle Takes Care of Matt Murdock, Human Disaster Matt Murdock, Blind Matt Murdock, Hurt Matt Murdock, Catholic Guilt, Matt Murdock Has Abandonment Issues, Matt Murdock Has Religious Trauma, Past Child Abuse, Serious Injuries, Trans Matt Murdock, Closeted Matt Murdock, Gay Matt Murdock, Caring Frank Castle, Frank Castle Has PTSD, Bottom Matt Murdock, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Guns, Light Bondage, Light Masochism, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Minor Vanessa Marianna Fisk/Wilson Fisk, Matt Murdock Has Sensory Issues, Gender Dysphoria, unsafe chest binding, Frank Castle fights Wilson Fisk, Sharing a Bed, Frank Castle & Wade Wilson Friendship, Matt Murdock & Wade Wilson First Meet, Matt Murdock & Wade Wilson Friendship

read it on the AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/46571866

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #Fratt #FrankMatt

6 notes · View notes

anarcho-catboyism · 1 month ago

Text

- Binding shouldn't hurt, if binding hurts before the 8hr mark TAKE IT OFF. You need to both work up slowly and make sure your size is correct

- Binding will not fully eliminate your chest, but even people without breasts still get large chests and pecs. Do not double bind! *Double binding is using 2 binders, multiple sports bras, etc. As a way of using multiple items to bind your chest at one time. Using 1 binding method at a time!

- Even if your friend can go 12 hours with no issues, that doesn't mean you can. Listen to your body and NEVER exceed 12 hours.

- You cannot bind every day. Just like exercise, you need to give your body breaks. Binding during the week and being unbinded during the weekend is a great practice!

- After you remove your binder, hold your arms over your head (on your head) and cough deeply. This is helping expand your diaphragm as well as seeing if you experience any out of the ordinary muscle pains.

- When binding, nipple faces out, not down!

- Do not get zipper binders unless it's from a reputable trans safe source. It doesn't distribute the bind safely 9/10 times.

- Do not get Amazon binders.

- Do not use things that aren't for binding for binding (rags, duct tape, etc.).

- Do not partake in heavy activity while binding such as hard exercise. There are binds that are good for the gym and swimming but these binds need to be at minimum a size larger than you normally wear so your lungs are able to expand properly during heavy activity.

- Please be careful binding in extreme heat! It will get you hotter and dehydrated faster, please take breaks and drink WATER more often than usual!

- Unsafe binding techniques can harm you and even cost you possible top surgery in the future if the damage is bad enough.

- If you notice pain while breathing, moving, etc. In your ribs stop binding immediately and give yourself at minimum 1-2 weeks of rest after the pain stops. Do not bind at all when in pain. This is a sign of bruising and ribs are notoriously difficult to heal because of the bodies frame of movement. You need to rest. If the pain is so bad it's interrupting your day (unable to get out of bed or it's difficult to, having to skip out on activities, etc.) Visit a primary care specialist or the hospital.

Please PLEASE practice safe binding, I've bruised my ribs before and it's an awful pain and it can harm your breathing and movement if bad enough !

chest binding psa

guys srsly be safe with binding your chest, most binders when bought new come with care instructions specific to the binder and the company but just generally make sure to be careful and if ur currently wearing one just take a moment to reflect and make sure you haven't been wearing it for over about 8 hours (give or take) take it from me, ive nearly broken my ribs while binding and it SUCKS, and while my dysphoria isn't too severe safety should come first, just be aware that binding can go wrong sometime and PLEASE BUY FROM A REPUTABLE COMPANY because if a binder isn't made right it can potentially be more dangerous than a well made binder

399 notes · View notes

why-what-no · 2 years ago

Text

Happy & Safe

Pairing: Morpheus x Transmasc!Reader

Warnings: Unsafe Binding, Body Dysphoria

Summary: Morpheus’s lover had his binder on for too long and Morpheus gets worried at the obvious pain his love was in

Requested by: @ultimateissuessimp (bind safety plz, you can’t have a body you want if you destroy the one you have before you can make any changes)

Morpheus was worried about his lover. (Y/N) had been quite obviously in pain for most of the day, able to hide it from everyone but Morpheus. But the King of the Dreaming could tell. His lover had been wincing, tugging at the front of his own shirt. Almost like he was having trouble breathing.

Having been away on a diplomatic trip to another Realm for a week, Morpheus had no way to figure out how long it had been going on. He asked Lucienne, but she claimed not to have noticed anything out of the ordinary.

After a full day of concern, he finally confronted (Y/N) about it in their chambers.

"What's wrong?" His tone was former than he'd have liked, but he was a little miffed that his lover was keeping secrets from him

(Y/N) looked like a deer in headlight. "I... I don't know what you're talking about." He stuttered. "I'm fine."

Morpheus shook his head. "Do not lie to me, you've been wincing ever since I've returned."

"I'm fine." He once again tried to brush off Morpheus's worry. "I've just been wearing my binder for a little too long, it's fine."

Things were beginning to make more sense with that confession. "And are you still wearing it?"

"Yeah, but..."

"Take it off." Morpheus requested. "Please."

(Y/N) looked like he was going to say no, but he sighed and listened to Morpheus. Tugging off the binder, the Dreamlord was pained to see light bruising on his lover's body.

"(Y/N)..."

"Yeah, I know." (Y/N) crossed his arms over his chest, turning to the wardrobe to put on a oversized shirt.

"You could have broken your ribs, you-"

"I know! Okay?" He exclaimed, already knowing about all the consequences. “I get it, I just…” He trailed off, feeling his voice begin to crack. Sitting down on the bed, trying to take deep breaths.

This was the first time he could breath properly in a while, the tight garment no longer restricting his lungs. It was obvious that he should have taken it off earlier, but…

“I just… my body… everything feels wrong.” He tried to explain to Morpheus, who had sat on the bed beside him and taken (Y/N)‘s hand in his. Stroking along (Y/N)‘s hand with his thumb comfortingly. “And what I want to look like feels impossible and I just want to… I just want to look in the mirror and actually like how I look.”

“Why haven’t you told me about this?” Morpheus sounded so sad for him. So sad that his lover was hurting like that.

(Y/N) had just not wanted to worry Morpheus. “There wasn’t really anything you could do. The binder helps, so I just didn’t want to take it off.”

Morpheus moved over to kiss (Y/N)’s forehead. “I just wished you had told me, I was so worried about you.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry.” (Y/N) leaned closer to cuddle against Morpheus. His presence comforting as (Y/N) was more honest than he had ever been. “I didn’t want to make you deal with this stuff.”

“You haven’t made me do anything.” Morpheus told him, voice steady and soft. “I’m here because I love you.”

The King of the Dreaming sighed, collecting his thoughts. “Tell me you will try not to wear that binder for that long ever again. For your safety, and for my peace of mind.”

(Y/N) sighed, looking down at his hands. “I promise.”

“Good.” Morpheus told him. “I want you to be happy, but I also want you to be safe. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Morpheus wrapped his arms around him, with (Y/N) feeling a lot better when his lover was holding him.

“Also.” Morpheus murmured to (Y/N). “I’m taking you to a healer in the morning, to sure there were no permanent injuries.”

(Y/N) just chuckled, nodding. Feeling his cheeks warm up at Morpheus’s protective nature.

Taglist: @dark-academia-slut @minetticatinwonderland @fangirlmary @absbdbshhs @kiki13522

#the sandman #the sandman x reader #the sandman x male!reader #morpheus #morpheus x reader #morpheus x male reader #the sandman x male reader #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless #dream of the endless x male reader #the sandman dream #the sandman dream x reader #the sandman dream x male reader #the sandman Morpheus #the sandman morpheus x reader #the sandman Morpheus x male reader #dream #dream x reader #dream x male reader

283 notes · View notes

littleoddwriter · 2 years ago

Note

Hey I was wondering if I could have a fic with Edward Tech/Blackbeard where the reader is a Trans male and has kept it secret from everyone until Blaclbeard accidentally walks in on the reader changing and sees them taking bandages of their chest

Our Secret | Edward Teach/Blackbeard & Trans!Male!Reader (Platonic)

Hi there! Thanks for the request, I hope you like what I've done with it! And I hope it's all right that this is platonic. ^^" <3

summary; See above.

notes; Trans!Male!Reader; Unsafe Binding; Bandages; Bruises; Coming Out; Mentions of Transphobia; Platonic Relationship.

For the past months that you’ve been a part of Blackbeard’s crew, you’ve hidden the fact that you were born with a female body from everyone. They were sure to throw you overboard if they knew, were they not? Maybe even worse, considering Blackbeard’s reputation; although from the way you knew him, he wasn’t as cruel and bloodthirsty as everyone made him out to be. A force to be reckoned with, sure, but also just a man.

Every single day, you were kind of terrified that any of the crew would find out about your little secret. You always made sure you were completely alone when you changed, and you fussed over your look for much longer than sometimes necessary, only to be certain that there was nothing overly feminine about you.

So far, you were passing well. No one seemed to suspect a thing. But you didn’t dare to wallow in this false sense of safety. You weren’t safe and you never would be. That much, you knew.

Nonetheless, you must have gotten sloppy.

As you were changing into some fresh clothes, you also decided to change the bandages that you wrapped around your chest to keep it flat. No way in hell were you going to let your chest betray you. You didn’t care about the pain and bruises it caused, nor that there were most likely going to be some long-term issues. None of that was of concern to you. All you cared about was a flat chest and the euphoria and safe feeling that came with it.

“Y/N, mate! I- Oh. Are you hurt?” Blackbeard’s voice sounded from behind you.

Yelping, you covered your chest, panicking. You were still in the middle of taking the bandages off, but enough was gone to not flatten your chest anymore.

“Uh- Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay, though! I can handle it myself,” you lied, thinking that going along with his idea was the safer choice.

“Let me see. I’ll be the judge of that, then. Y’know, as your captain,” Edward told you firmly, but kindly.

“No!” you yelled, hunching over and flinching away from him. “Sorry. I’m sorry, Blackbeard. Captain. Sir. It’s just- There’s nothing to see.”

“The bruises on your back tell me a different story, mate.”

Oh. So that was how bad it’s gotten? You knew you had back pain, but you didn’t know it showed.

“C’mon. Let me see what we’re working with, eh?” Ed insisted, rounding you and suddenly standing right in front of you. This was bad.

Still hunched over, you only tried to cover your chest more with your arms tightly crossed over it.

“Y/N? You’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about, mate. We’re all men here,” Edward said, attempting to pry your arms off of your chest.

“That’s kinda the problem,” you whispered, cursing your mouth for acting faster than your brain could have possibly caught up to.

“What do you mean?”

With a deep breath, you held Blackbeard’s gaze while you let your arms fall to the side. You felt exposed. And you were, of course, but this ran far deeper than the physical side of it. You were emotionally vulnerable, too. You were exposed in every possible sense.

Ed made a surprised sound, followed by an elongated ‘oh’.

“You’re actually a w-”

“Not quite,” you interrupted him before he could say it, “I’m a man. I just… I was born with a female body, yes. But I’m not a woman. I don’t identify as one.”

Both of you looked at each other for a long moment. You stood there, having straightened up again, and you were terrified. Your heart was beating rapidly. You had no idea what was going through Edward’s mind right now. His expression was unreadable. And that scared you.

“You never wanted anyone to know, did you?” was the first thing he said after a short while of silence passed.

“Well, no. I was scared I’d be killed otherwise. Or simply thrown overboard, of course,” you responded, shrugging as though the thought hadn’t caused you sleepless nights before.

“I guess that’s fair,” Ed mumbled and cleared his throat, “I don’t have a problem with it. So, you don’t need to worry about me. All right, mate? I won’t tell anyone. This can be our secret, then.”

“You- Really?” Blackbeard nodded. “Oh, thank you! Thank you, Captain.”

Ed simply smiled at you in response and grasped your shoulder, patting it.

“I’ll leave you to it, then. But, uh, be careful with those bandages, eh?” he told you before leaving you alone in the room.

Whatever he had wanted when he had barged in must have left his mind, or perhaps he was going to ask you about it later, when you weren’t preoccupied otherwise.

Relief washed over you, once Ed was gone. He knew. And he had no problem with it. It was almost like a dream come true.

You had always known that underneath this Blackbeard persona, Edward was actually a pretty decent man. He’d certainly proven it to you now.

#trans male reader #edward teach #ed teach #edward teach x reader #ed teach x reader #blackbeard #blackbeard ofmd #blackbeard x reader #taika waititi #our flag means death #ofmd #ofmd fanfic #ofmd fic

87 notes · View notes

nailgunstigmata · 2 years ago

Text

ok since people were interested <3 i hope my brainworms make sense/aren‘t disappointing

essayposting under the cut/me rattling around in dennis‘s brain like its his bdsm drawer (cw for canon rape/csa mention and the unhealthy way he deals with it)

ok this is kinda all over the place and lots of me making shit up but this is what I read into the bed poop show because I think Dennis Reynolds should be studied in a lab. sorry if this is all obvious stuff or/and confusing, im not very good at expressing myself <3 dennis core of me i think

The fact that the „tools“ Dennis uses are both unsafe and painful is just a very neat character detail I think!! Zip ties can be dangerous and apparently hurt a lot, which makes sense, since they seem to really cut into your skin. Same goes for duct tape!! It’s not as dangerous (as far as my very cursory research told me) but it’s still not safe, not recommended, and probably hurts like shit (i don’t have any experience but i have ripped a bandaid off before lol)

Either him or the woman, one of them has to be hurt. One walks away with bruises. And that’s what makes it so interesting that he doesn’t just likes to bind, he also likes to be bound. Im spitballing here and probably overthinking stuff and liberal with my interpretation or whatever but I think since Dennis focuses primarily on his own pleasure (sometimes the woman doesn’t cum), he wouldn’t tie them up if being bound was something he considers an inherently pleasurable experience. It’s only about the control he has/doesn’t have.

We really don’t know what exactly happened with Mrs Klinsky because of how much Dennis represses traumatic memories, but we do know that he has at least to some point internally recontextualized it as consensual, because he can’t accept the fact that he was victimized in this way. So with him processing the whole experience as something he let happen, and even actively pursued, I think it makes a lot of sense that he would want to play with control in that way, both by having it and having it taken away from him, in a way he still struggles with having experienced. So I think the liking to bind part is reclaiming power he’s had taken away from him and simultaneously punishing the person weak enough to have had it taken from them (internalized self hatred is a disease and I’m diagnosing him), while the liking being bound part is self punishment, both on the physical level, and also having control taken away in a more direct, physical way, aka back then you could have stopped it but you didn’t, now you can’t stop it, which relieves you of the responsibility somehow, makes things easier to process and deal with on the one hand, but is also a scary and possibly retraumatizing experience if you aren‘t doing it safely, and lets be honest here, theres no way he is. Aka I diagnose you with hypersexuality in an attempt at dealing with your trauma and also sex as self harm and a practice thats either punish or being punished, winning or losing, having all control or none at all. And then the BDSM just reiterating the whole thing and making it more blatant.

So yeah! The bondage makes complete sense with Dennis’s complicated relationship with control and power dynamics, especially with his past experiences, but the zip ties and duct tape as both unsafe and painful are a good symbol for the unhealthy edge that rots into the core of the entire experience, in a way that I think says a lot about his character. BDSM is not inherently unsafe ofc, you can probably even engage with the tools in a safe way, but this is Dennis, so of course he doesn’t. I need to study him in a lab <3

nobody wants to hear that but i could actually write an essay about dennis‘s choice of duct tape and zip ties like hes soo…hes sooooo

#cw rape mention #cw csa #sorry i have worms in my brain about him. he makes me ill

27 notes · View notes