#i think my compressed anxiety is visible to the entire building

[asbestieos]

if i gut myself it would hurt really bad and be fatal but on the other hand it would be fatal and i wouldnt have to stand in dmv line anymores

[some-cookie-crumbz]

Sparking up Something

Sparking up Something Fandom: My Hero Academia Pairing: DabiTwice Summary: DabiTwice Week Day 1 Prompt Fill: There are a couple of things about the summer that cause problems. The heat always leaves Jin’s skin crawling and prickling, his anxiety ramping up. He doesn’t like the heat, doesn’t like what it represents. Which is strange, considering his boyfriend is the living embodiment of smoldering coals. Standard Disclaimer: If you read and enjoy this, please give it a like/ reblog so I know if I should write more.

Trigger Warning: Mentions of Child Abuse, Mentions of Domestic Abuse

Fireworks, Jin thought, probably weren’t the best thing for them, as the League of Villains, to be indulging in.

Meanwhile, his alter thought this was an absolutely splendid idea! Perhaps they would catch something ablaze and make a nice little ruckus! Add some real excitement to this miserable summer evening!

He could feel his hand starting to twitch against the lawn chair he was sitting in, wishing he had his mask on. But with how miserable the heat was, wearing his mask was a sure fire way to give himself heatstroke. And he really didn’t want to spoil everyone else’s good night by passing out like a complete ass.

The heat was something he’d never been good at dealing with, admittedly. Ever since he was a kid.

Pa and Ma were simple folks, for all intents and purposes, so their living arrangements had never been anything glamorous. A lot of things about his parents had been simple, when he stopped to think about it. They were a simple couple married in a rush because they were expecting him and their resentment at him for that was always present. Pa was much more vocal and open about it, taking any small mistake as a chance to bruise his only child’s body and mind as viciously as he possibly could. Ma showed it in her lack of attentiveness, in how she would ignore his pleads for help while Pa loomed over him, slurring out ever curse imaginable. The love between them had been gone long before he was born, Jin knew, and their marriage was for appearances.

The summer was always when things in the family home became their most unbearable. The squaller they lived in meant their rundown homes were often small heating units, raising the temperature and hostility. There were more times than not he’d walk in the door to his parents having themselves about furious round, which always dissolved into a match between him and Pa instead. Sometimes just because he came in too loud, sometimes because Ma would lie that he’d fucked up somehow, but it always went that way.

A lot of those days, he’d lay in bed not knowing what was sweat from the heat and what was blood from his wounds.

He felt his arm visibly jerk as Toga released an excited squeal as Compress presented a wide variety of fireworks, mind snapping back to the present. Pilfered, most likely, as Shigaraki would most likely not spend their limited funds on them. Well, unless Spinner caught him in a particularly good mood and coaxed him, anyway. He reached up to wipe some of the beading sweat from his brow and had to do a double-take when his hand came back smeared with red. His breathes became frantic as his vision flickered back and force with ever blink.

Red. Clear. Red. Clear. Red. Red! RED! RED! RED RED RED RE-!

“Hey, up here,” A familiar voice drawled, surprisingly soft and careful, tearing Jin’s eyes away from his hand to eyes a hypnotic, oceanic blue. They simply held eye contact for a few beats as Jin’s mind struggled to catch up with him.

He was on the roof of an abandoned building with the other League members.

They were going to be shooting off fireworks because why the fuck not.

He was 31 years old. Not seven.

He was at the top of a building. Not in a closet hiding. Not strapped to a chair in his apartment.

“Dabi,” he breathed after he wasn’t sure how long, his words cracking a bit.

Blue eyes glint in amusement before he flopped over into the empty chair beside Jin. “Good to have you back with us,” he said, holding one hand out to him again. In either hand he was holding a dripping glass bottled drink. Non-alcoholic, he noted, as he reached out with shaking fingers to take it.

Compress had most likely insisted it, to keep Toga from having something she shouldn’t. He made a mental note to thank him for that later.

The cold, wet surface helped to ground him in the moment further. “Thank you,” Dabi made a noise of acknowledgement as he popped off the top of his drink with one of his rings. Twice did the same, taking a quick sip of his bottle. The drink was cold and more sugar than anything but it would do the trick. “I’m sorry. I just... Got lost. In my head.”

“You don’t need to explain if you don’t want to,” Dabi said with a shrug as he shifted to be more comfortable, hunching in his seat a bit. “We’ve discussed the fact that we both had shitty parents. Just... Is it the fireworks that set you off?”

He shook his head. “If it was that, I would have said so sooner,” He glanced up, grey eyes staring up as the first firework - as far as he was aware, anyway - was sent into the air, erupting in a flicker of silver lights. “It’s the heat. Gets in my head.”

“Heat bothers you?” There wasn’t any accusation or disbelief in the other’s voice, just genuine concern. For as much as the darker haired man liked to play off as aloof and unperturbed, Jin knew better. That was just a front designed from fear. He feared being rejected for who he really was, for expressing his feelings too much, as it had happened before. He didn’t give away too many more details, but it was enough for Jin to know.

He, too, was someone whose parents had resented who he was.

“More the humidity, I think,” Jin said, shifting his drink to his other hand and reaching out. He let his fingers curl tentatively around the other’s wrist, hesitant to go straight for his hand proper. “Can’t really wear my mask so... You know. Mind going way too fast. Your heat doesn’t bother me. I know you’d never use your flames on me.”

The other stared at his hand for a moment before moving his hand to lace their fingers. “Good,” he mumbled, though Jin wasn’t entirely sure how to take it. Good that he knew Dabi’s flames would never hurt him? Or good that it was more the humidity that bothered him?

He opted against thinking too hard on it. Instead, he focused on the warmth of Dabi’s hand in his, of the lukewarm staples pressing into his skin, and just existing in that moment.

[barnesandco]

The Greater Good

Carrying the shield isn’t an easy job; it often requires a great deal of sacrifice, and that can be difficult for Bucky to come to terms with. 

Based on the “Where’s my supersuit?” scene from The Incredibles.

This is an entry for @star-spangled-bingo​​ 2020. Word count: 2044. Square filled: “Free Space”

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Bucky Barnes

Warnings: Mentions of injury, wounds, blood. Mentions of drinking alcohol. Mild angst, slight separation anxiety.

A/N: Idk what to say, y’all. I wish I had the decency to apologize for writing a fic I’ll probably regret posting instead of working on my WIPs, one of which is on hiatus bc I’m a lazy jerk, but such is life. Blame The Incredibles (which I’ve never seen -- I’m not sorry) and @samingtonwilson 's anon. Also, while you're there, go check out Taal's masterlist because she's an incredibly (pun intended) talented, amazing, fantastic writer and every. single. one. of her stories is a must-read.

Honeysuckle and mango, the scented candles on each bedside table flicker in the light breeze drifting through the open window, a sea of dark ink dotted with stars visible beyond. Late summer is cooling into autumn, and the leaves of the tree that shades their bedroom on hot days is slowly turning into an early shade of yellow-orange, that glints in the glow of streetlights to remind Bucky of the specks of gold that set Sam’s eyes alight like a September sunset. It’s been two weeks since Bucky’s seen those eyes, two weeks he's been awake before dawn with more worry than he knows how to run off.

He’s due back today, his husband, after a fortnight of radio silence thanks to a stake-out in the Canadian wilderness, in wait for a lucrative arms deal to occur, and for the team of Avengers to prevent. The mission had been called a day after Bucky broke -- no, shattered -- his arm during a drug bust in California, thereby disqualifying him from participation, and sentencing him to this torturous wait. A wait that has now, finally, come to an end. Almost. 

Bucky lets out a quiet sigh on his way back to the kitchen. Placing a second plate of homemade ravioli and the necessary utensils on a tray table, he returns to the bedroom, putting his food next to where Sam’s waits patiently. Wrings both hands, one made of metal, and the other with a cast on it. Any minute now, he thinks, pulling out the first aid kit from under the bed and putting it on the dresser, ready to use under the bright glow of the lamp next to it. The room is filled with soft light, the smell of pasta, and the ache of Bucky’s heart as he tries to quell the unreasonable nerves that tug at his diaphragm.

Nearly a year of falling asleep with the feel of Sam’s wedding band under the stroking of his thumb, nearly two of being intimately familiar with the texture of his lips, and nearly three of being perfect partners in combat and good friends out of it, yet Sam still makes him nervous. A good nervous, the flutter of nerves in his belly, Bucky determines as he paces the hallway, stopping in front of the mirror to push his hair back. Maybe he’ll ask Sam to cut it tomorrow, once he’s recovered. From his wounds and Bucky’s... affections.

The thought has only just crossed Bucky’s mind when the tap of boots alerts him to someone’s presence at the door. Keys jingle, but he’s too quick, already unlocking the door and throwing it open as Sam lifts his hand to the lock, where it, and the rest of him, freezes at the sight of Bucky, cheeks dusted with a rosy pink already. 

Words stay unspoken, and the sentiment of longing, of unimaginable relief is transferred directly from Bucky’s mouth to Sam’s. His metal arm rises to grip Sam’s suit-clad waist, and Sam’s gloved hands cradle Bucky’s head gently, so at odds with the pressure with which he seeks to draw forth pleasure. Soon, the kiss turns to open mouths, just resting over each other, elevated breaths colliding in the margin of air between them. Bucky breaks away with a sigh, arms around Sam, and forehead against his, eyes closed.

“I missed you, too, Bucky.” Sam smiles, split lip rasping over over Bucky’s, and he pulls back to look at him. Keeps ahold of his hand as he leads him to their room -- taking note of his limp -- and silently begins to peel the suit off his husband’s tired, burdened shoulders. Sam’s sees the trays on the bed and raises an eyebrow at him in question, but Bucky’s spotted the gauze covering the lower left side of his ribs.

“You were shot,” Bucky says lowly, kneeling, and bringing the first aid kit with him to the floor, unfortunately too used to this sort of thing to really be fazed by it. Besides, he doesn’t want to waste any time chewing Sam out for getting hurt, not when he can be sitting next to him with good food and even better laughter, something sorely needed after ages of quiet. He’ll allow the delay in those plans for their evening just enough to redress the wound that has started to bleed through the bandages.

Sam shrugs with the confident nonchalance of someone who knows he isn’t getting told off. “It happens,” he says with a grin. “What’s with dinner in bed?”

“Thought you’d be more comfortable,” Bucky answers. “And we can get down to business quicker,” he quips, ignoring the scoff elicited, as they’re both well aware that Sam’s in no condition for such at the moment.

While Bucky starts cleaning the blood that has seeped out through his staples, Sam takes off the light chain that carries his wedding band, and puts the ring back in its rightful place, on his fourth finger. By the time he’s reached for a shirt in the dresser next to him, Bucky’s done, and he stands so Sam can lean on him while he puts on his favorite pair of sweatpants.

“Hurry up, old man, the food’s goin’ cold and I worked real hard on it,” Bucky says, getting Sam settled in so he’s leaning on the pillows against the headboard, and pours him wine. 

Sam’s eyes widen, shocked. “Old? You’re one to talk.”

“At least I can walk straight,” Bucky retorts, and Sam gestures towards his stomach.

“I was shot.”

“And whose fault is that?” Bucky jokes, and Sam’s mouth snaps shut, his shoulders shudder to contain the building amusement, until they both burst into laughter. Bucky watches Sam’s eyes scrunch tightly shut as he laughs, and he lets the sound spill into his soul like an essence of life. It’s been a while since he heard it, and it sounds just as sweet, as effulgent, as he recalls. 

Recovering from the outburst, Sam breathes slowly, trying not to laugh again. “Okay, alright, I’m sorry. You’re not old, you’re just--” he bites his lip, and Bucky tries not to wince in anticipation of the wound on his lip reopening. “-- mature.” He smirks at him, and Bucky rolls his eyes, putting another piece of ravioli in his mouth. The room goes quiet, and they relish the food and each other’s company. Bucky drinks in the content, relaxed features of Sam’s face. He’s radiating goodness, and that energy that can only be described as unapologetically Sam. 

The golden, shining bubble of a moment is burst by Sam’s phone ringing outside, from the chest of drawers in the entrance, and Sam gives him a look, before going to retrieve it. Bucky recognizes the Captain-voice Sam’s using on the phone, making the gears start to turn in his head, a process that results in him going to pick up the shield lying next to the bed, and hiding it behind their tuxedos, the ones they wore to their wedding, in the closet. Luckily for him, Sam’s call ends just as he’s gotten back to bed, half-eaten plate of pasta in front of him like he never moved.

Bucky’s gut instinct was right. Nobody could have any reason for calling Sam at this hour with the exception of Nick Fury. “Robbery on 9th ave. They’re using Chitauri energy cores,” he says, pulling off the loungewear and putting the suit back on. Zip, boots, gloves, and then--

“Where’s my shield?” He asks, turning to look around the room. “I put it right here.” Sam looks at Bucky and he averts his gaze.

“I don’t know,” he says, entirely unconvincingly, and Sam clenches his jaw in understanding, putting his hands on his hips in wait.

“Bucky.”

Bucky traces the gold veins running along his metal arm. “What?”

“I need my shield,” Sam says softly, stepping forward.

“Why?” It’s Bucky’s turn to put his hands on his hips, and Sam throws his in the air in frustration. Bucky tries to avoid thinking about the veins that protrude along his neck at the movement. This is not the time, Barnes, focus. 

“Why? What do you mean, why?”

“Ask them to send someone else! I've been waiting to see you for two weeks. You can't just leave again.” But Sam’s already on his way to the closet, rummaging, searching first through an unhealthy amount of running shoes -- Bucky’s new vice -- and then his outrageous collection of compression t-shirts. 

“The public is in danger, Bucky,” he says, voice muffled from the closet. 

"My evening is in danger," he replies, crosses his arms and leans in the doorway. 

“Come on, man. I have to go. For the greater good and all.” He looks up from the underwear drawer to send a pleading expression Bucky’s way, and Bucky fixes his glare on a spot on the wall above Sam’s head. Aims his next words at that spot, too.

"”I'm your husband. I'm the greatest good you're ever going to get,” Bucky responds sharply, but Sam continues searching, and soon, Bucky drops the act. “You're injured, Sammy. You're not well enough to go,” he says, pushing off where he’s leaning and stepping forward. Somehow, he lets his arms uncross and clench slowly at his sides, fists that he works to reopen, feeling the stretch of tendons accompany the strain in his voice. Sam helps, taking a hand in each of his, thumb sliding over the base of each of his fingers. The knuckles of his broken arm are covered in plaster, and the metal one whirrs, almost purring. 

“Bucky, look,” Sam says, voice so quiet it’s like he’s relaying a secret in a crowded room, rather than an explanation in an empty one. “I know it's hard, and I'm sorry, but you know that this is what the job takes.” Bucky watches Sam press his mouth thinly together, tries to ignore the logic he knows is present in his partner’s words, but Bucky was never one for ignorant bliss. He’s making an ineffectual effort to suppress the natural conscious that’s telling him to send Sam off, and it isn’t sustainable. “I'll be back before you know it.” Sam’s smooth, low timbre pierces the conflict Bucky is striving to resolve, and the turmoil, the unreasonable bid to restrain Sam from leaving settles like dust after a sandstorm.

Sam’s hands tighten around Bucky’s and he can feel the pulse in them, in the safe, warm skin the touch of which is his home, the surface that brings him back to Earth no matter where his head is going. However, now, Bucky lets go, and retrieves Sam shield. Gives it to him without another word, and accepts the grateful nod of thanks.

He’s almost to the door, Bucky trailing a few steps behind -- resolutely brushing aside the analogy of lost puppies -- when he stops and turns. Gives Bucky a look that would be abstruse if not for years of conversation, of moments that enable Bucky to tell that Sam’s frown, the shine of his eyes, that anxious hand running along the edge of his shield, means only that he’s reluctant. Bucky’s hunch is proven right when Sam comes forward to stand toe-to-toe with him, eyes locked on his.

“Thank you. I’ll be home soon,” he says, leaning to place a kiss on his forehead. Just a touch, a whisper of reassuring force, before he’s moving away again, eye contact only broken when he leaves the threshold of their house, stepping outside.

Bucky holds the back door and watches him deploy his wings. Sam traces a flight path on his arm panel as Bucky looks on, watching the lights shine on his skin like shimmering topaz, beautiful, glowing, alive, and prays that he’ll return to him that way. Again. 

Once he’s done reading mission details and ready to go, Sam looks up again, eyes dancing with mirth and adoration, the former of which he voices in a joke that is meant to disguise his concern for Bucky, even though he’s the one leaving for battle. “Don’t wait up for me. You need your rest, grandpa,” Sam calls, laughter trembling in his throat, taking off in a flash of red, white, and blue. 

[wingsofkpop]

Finding SKZ - 9: JY01

pairing(s): Hybrid!Bang Chan x Reader, Hybrid!SKZ x Reader

genre: Hybrid!AU, Dystopian!AU, barely any Fluff, heavy Angst, eventual Smut

warning(s): Mature language, mentions of trauma, mentions of abuse, mention of death

word count: 4,5k

synopsis: After rescuing an abandoned hybrid from his fate of death, he has one other favor to ask of you. Not only do you have to find his eight other hybrid brothers, but you have to keep them safe from the deadly dangers of your city: Miroh

chapter directory

You watch the shadows of the night dance across the car window, occasionally disturbed by the flurries of snowflakes dancing through the air. The comforting buzz of the radio carrying from the front of the van brings heaviness to your eyelids, but you refuse to surrender to your drowsiness. As tired as you were, you didn’t feel like sleeping. 

How could you with everything that happened?

A soft whimper steals your attention from the outside view. You peer over your seat into the row behind you, discovering a sleeping Jisung. His spotted ears were compressed back against his brown locks. His long tail wrapped tightly around his waist. You could also see his visible claws, jutting out from beneath his fingernails, scratching at the leather seats. His expression was one of fear, his lips parted and releasing gentle gasps. 

You recognize the signs of a nightmare and swiftly scale over the seats, careful not to kick a snoring Felix in the head. Settling yourself on the floor, you attempt to shake the feline awake, “Sung… Sung, wake up…” 

Jisung’s body convulses against your touch as his eyes snap open. A high pitched scream emerges from his throat. The sound bloody murder within your ears. He wrenches himself away from you, huddling in the corner with violent sobs spilling from his lips. You sigh and cautiously scoot toward the hybrid, “Jisung, it’s just me… It’s (Y/N)...” 

“N-noona..?” Jisung raises his head from between his knees, gazing at you with teary eyes. You barely get the chance to nod before he’s throwing himself into your arms, hands clawing desperately at your back. His tail ties around your own waist this time, almost as if he was afraid you would pull away. You do none of the sort, wrap your own limbs around the trembling hybrid and attempt to soothe his hysterics. 

“It was just a bad dream, Sung. You’re safe.” 

Jisung shakes his head, “I-It felt so real… The collar…” 

“Shhh…” You gather the hybrid into a more convenient position. One where Jisung’s knee wasn’t digging into your hip. You allow the boy to ride out the aftershocks of his traumatic nightmare against your body. Having dealt with your own bad dreams a number of times, you know how these things go. Fear. Panic. Helplessness. You’ve gone through it all. 

The bengal’s cries slow after some time and his body gradually stills. While he was still quivering, it wasn’t as severe as before. You deem it safe to lean backward and peer at Jisung’s flushed and tear-swollen face, wiping away any remnants of liquid sadness. The smile you send him is weak, but genuine. That’s the best you can give him,

“It was so real…” Jisung trails off, thumbing at his throat. “It was like I was back in that club again… God, the shocks-” 

“-Don’t think about it.” You caress the hybrid’s sweaty forehead, ridding a couple stray hairs from his skin. “You’re safe with me, Jisung. I won’t let anything happen to you.” 

“Promise?” 

His whimpered phrase reminds you of Seungmin. An ugly pang strikes right against your heart. You swallow your doubts, replacing them with the fierce determination stirring inside your stomach. You ruffle his hair and murmur, “I promise, sweetheart. We’re gonna get your brothers and then get you the hell out of here.” 

“You’ll come with us, right? To Yellow Wood?” 

You hold back a grimace. This time, an image of Chan manifests within your mind. His pleading eyes. His hopeful expression. His dreamy voice. And you think back to the answer you gave then. Back in that bedroom where for the first time in a long time, you felt truly safe and loved. Then again, with the boys, you always felt like that. Loved. 

This time, you really didn’t want to say no. 

“We’ll see.” You choose this answer before gesturing Jisung to lay back on the seats. “Try to sleep, Sung. Just remember I’m here, okay?” 

Jisung smiles sleepily, “Okay, noona.” 

You hold back a laugh as he falls asleep almost instantly. His face settled into an adorable pout. You climb your way back into your seat, ready to retire yourself for the night, before a curious gaze catches your eye. 

Throwing Minho a pointed glance through the rear view mirror, you maneuver your way into the front seat. It’s a little more difficult this time, since there’s not much space to squeeze through. Luckily, you do so without injury or fault and get comfortable in the passenger’s seat. The two of you sit in silence for a short while. You can feel Minho’s gaze burning into the side of your face, but you keep your eyes on the moving starless sky outside the windshield. 

A sigh sounds, followed by his whisper, “You ever gonna tell me about that gun?”

Surprise shoots through your veins. Your head snaps to stare wide-eyed, like a deer in headlights, at the coyote hybrid. He chuckles at your panic and shakes his head, “You’re not as sneaky as you think. I smelled it on you the second you came out of your room.” 

“It’s-It’s not what you think-”

“-Relax, (Y/N)-ah.” Minho sighs, reaching over to pat your hand on the center counsel. “You have it for self-defense. Just in case.” 

You furrow your brow, “How did you know?”

He shrugs, “Figured as much. Your mother’s boyfriend is in jail and can get out anytime. It’s clever actually.” 

You’re not exactly sure how to reply, but push the issue aside. Instead, your thoughts wander to the aftermath of what happened those couple days ago when you came home to an empty and overturned apartment. The worry over Chan, Woojin, Hyunjin and Seungmin had been slowly killing you from the inside out. Along with the guilt. Maybe if you had called when the chance came up-

“-You’re overthinking again. I can hear your mind fucking itself from over here.” 

“Hardee har.” You cross your arms with a frustrated huff. “This is all my fault-” 

Minho groans, “-Please don’t start with this bullshit again. There was absolutely no way you could have known, (Y/N)-ah.” 

“But I should have.” Your hand raises to your face where you pinch the bridge of your nose with your forefinger and thumb. “If only I hadn’t been selfish and went to see my aunt-” 

“-Then we wouldn’t have found Changbin. Seriously, (Y/N)-ah?” Your companion shakes his head with a snort, “You have to stop blaming yourself for absolutely everything. Your compassion is making me sick.” 

You chuckle, “You’re still an asshole.” 

“Only the biggest.” 

Another comfortable silence stretches between the two of you. You direct your attention back onto the violet sky. The moon peeking through the falling snow. Your mind wanders again to a certain wolf hybrid. Wherever he was, maybe he was looking up at the same moon thinking of you too. 

You hope he’s okay. 

“(Y/N)-ah, can I tell you something?” 

“Of course.” 

A shaky breath invades your ears, and the sound makes you a little uneasy. You keep your eyes on the windshield. Too afraid to turn and find what kind of expression was pulled across Minho’s face. 

“I... I haven’t been... entirely honest with you…” 

“What do you mean?”

“It’s… You know what, nevermind.” You turn back to see Minho feverishly rocking his head back and forth. His bottom lip was pulled tightly between his teeth. Tight enough to draw the beginnings of blood. “Just forget about it-” 

You lean forward, “Hold on a second. Minho, if you need to tell me something, then just tell me.” 

Minho visibly debates with himself for a moment. You can see the cogs running inside his mind, bouncing thought after thought back and forth. A strange chill eases down your spine. One that fills you with apprehension and suspicion. You’ve never seen Minho like this before. Almost as if he was… hiding something. 

Finally, after what seems like eons, Minho releases a heavy sigh before answering, “I… I know Paula Friel. And she knows me.” 

“What?” Your eyes embiggen to moons, recalling that moment back in your apartment building. “How in the hell do you know each other?” 

“It’s complicated,” He cards his fingers through his hair, his other hand tightening on the steering wheel. Anxiety written all across his face as he speaks, “She was… the mother of my owner. The one who abandoned me.” 

You don’t respond, again not knowing what to say. Your heart drops at the sadness that crosses over Minho’s features. His long ears tilting just slightly to the side. The temptation to reach over the counsel and pull him into a hug was strong, but you knew you couldn’t. You had to let him finish first. 

“Her daughter and I were… close… Closer than we should have ever been…” 

Your lips purse, “You were in love. Weren’t you?” 

“Yeah… I loved that woman with every piece of my fucked up heart.” Minho smiles. And you can almost see the happy memories through its sparkle. His expression doesn’t remain and it quickly clouds with anger, “But Paula didn’t like that, so she made her choose. Me or her inheritance?” 

“Minho-” 

“-She didn’t even hesitate.” He hisses, “She left me on the side of the road without so much as a goodbye. I tried to stop her but she just… didn’t care.

“That’s why I’ve never trusted another human since then. Because they just don’t care.” When Minho angles his head to meet your gaze, you swear you’ve never seen so much pain in your life. It makes your heart ache. But also flutter at his next confession, “And then I met you. The first human who was willing to lie and sacrifice everything, even her own life, just so I could see my brothers again.” 

You sigh, “You give me too much credit.” 

“No. You don’t give yourself enough.” The coyote sighs, “I thought… I thought you were just like the others. All talk and no game… But the look in your eyes when you told me about your mom… 

“I’m sorry it took me this long, (Y/N)-ah.” Minho sends a weak smile your direction. A smile that is neither a smirk nor cynical. A genuine, heartfelt smile that brings tears to your eyes and a tightness in your chest. Right over your heavy heart. “I shouldn’t have treated you the way I did…” 

“You didn’t know any better.” A single droplet cascades down your cheek, staining your skin with relief and prowess. “I’m sorry too. For everything.” 

While you didn’t exactly say it, you knew Minho knew that you were apologizing for just as you said: Everything. 

The pain. The loneliness. The loss. 

All your kind has done to hurt him.

“I’m glad you’re here, (Y/N)-ah. Truly.” 

“Me too, Minho. Me too.” 

***

When you arrive at the laboratory, everyone in the car grows silent. Even when Minho drove around the entire facility a few times just to scope everything out, no one uttered a single word. You can’t blame them. They were afraid, and frankly, so were you. 

You soon learned that District 9 Laboratories were located on the literal outskirts of Miroh. You’ve never been this close to the border. It’s crazy to think there’s more beyond the wall that separates you from the outside world. Although, all that’s out there is wasteland from the war. Historians weren’t lying when they said everything was destroyed. 

Minho was able to hide the van in a patch of thick, overgrown brush. It’s not easy to find, but when you need a quick getaway, your escape will be clean and effortless. Hopefully. 

Minho didn’t know exactly where they would be holding the four hybrids, but he had a pretty good idea. The plan was to get into the building and make your way into the confinement sector. Since you were basically going in blind, you trusted Minho and Changbin to lead you there safely which sounds like a good idea… but you were a little apprehensive. 

One wrong move and it’s your ass on the line. 

“Sung, Lix, stay together.” Minho murmurs to the two feline hybrids, “We don’t know how shits going to go down. So just be wary.” 

“Got it.” Jisung nods, placing his hand on Felix’s knee. “We’ll go scope out the front. You, Changbinnie-hyung and noona head around back and see if you can still get into that courtyard vent.” 

The coyote smirks, “Nice thinking, Sungie. Be safe.” 

“Always.” You watch as the two youngsters retreat off into the dark woods, likely using their night vision to weave through the pitch black. Unfortunately, you don’t get the chance to watch them completely dash out of sight because Minho tugs at your arm and starts walking. He didn’t want to waste any time. 

You maneuver your way through the darkness by utilizing the side of the building as a crutch. The cool, jagged bricks scratch harshly against your palms. You wouldn’t be surprised if you received a few nasty cuts in the process. You pay it no mind, too focused on the ghost of paranoia breathing down your neck. 

“Are you sure no one’s watching? This seems too easy…” 

“They station their guards at certain spots. The closest one is miles away. Don’t worry, (Y/N)-ah.” 

You roll your eyes at Minho’s reply, “You telling me not to worry makes me worry more. There’s a lot that can go wrong right now.” 

“Yeah, well, it’s not very wise to think about that, now is it?” You nearly bump into Changbin after nearly tripping over a rock. Minho steadies you before you can fall. You can’t see his face, but you know he had an amused expression judging from his voice. “Careful, (Y/N)-ah.” 

“Don’t you fucking tell me to be careful! I can’t see shit!” You hiss, wrenching your arm from the coyote’s hold. Instead you reach down to lace your fingers through his before doing the same to Changbin. The panther doesn’t seem too happy to be holding your hand, based on his feather-like grip, but you could care less. The last thing you need is losing both of them in the dark. 

“Okay. Lead the way.” Slow and steady, Minho takes the lead and guides both you and Changbin forward through the snow. You nearly stumble again, but with your grip on both of the boys’ hands, you’re able to regain your balance fairly quickly. Each step is taken lightly. Your eyes seem to grow blinder with every one. It drives you crazy. But you persevere. You have to. 

For your boys. 

Minho stops suddenly, nearly sending you spiraling into the snowy ground. You scowl, “Minho, seriously? What the hell was that for?” 

“There’s someone following us.” His inquiry shoots goosebumps across your flesh. Your chest tightens and it’s not from the cool winter air. The hybrid shoves you backwards, “Changbin-ssi, protect (Y/N)-ah.” 

Changbin obeys his brother and shields you behind his broad body. Through the darkness and snow flurries, you can just barely make out Minho’s silhouette leering toward the woods. An animalistic growl emerges from his form, “You have three seconds to show yourself before I drive you into the fucking ground! Three! Two-!” 

“-Minho, relax! It’s me!” 

Your eyes widen. You push past the panther to where Minho is stood, your eyes squinting against the blindness. Once the stranger steps into a more visible line of sight, your assumption proves to be correct. Without hesitation, you rush forward and throw yourself into the larger figure. 

Chan chuckles and wraps his own limbs around you, “Miss me?” 

“More than you could know.” You reply, leaning away to peer at his face. All you could really see were his glittery irises, but just by looking into them, you feel most of your anxiety bleed away. He smiles at you, stretches his neck and places a gentle peck against your temple. Your heart flutters, and as much as you wanted to relish in his touch, you had bigger fish to fry: 

You shake your head, “What the hell happened to you guys? We came home and the apartment was wrecked. The boys said you were taken here.” 

“It’s a long story,” Chan murmurs, his eyes bouncing between you, Minho and Changbin. He raises an eyebrow, “Looks like you’ve got one to tell too.” 

“Channie-hyung...” You barely have the chance to duck out of the way as Changbin rushes toward the older hybrid. The two partake in a tearful and heartfelt embrace, one that reminded you of the reunion between him and Minho all those weeks ago. You remember Chan saying one time that between all his brothers, him and Changbin were by far the closest. 

You can definitely see why. 

“I can’t believe you’re here…” Chan sighs, squeezing the shorter hybrid tight against his body. “God, Binnie, I’m so sorry…” 

“It wasn’t your fault, Channie-hyung.” The panther sighs, “You couldn’t stop them from taking me.” 

The pair grow silent, merely taking in one another’s presence. Their moment doesn’t last long as Minho pipes up, “You guys can catch up later. Hyung, where are the others?” 

“Inside.” Chan answers. “The laboratory guards stormed the apartment that night. Woojin and I tried to fight them off, but they knocked me out. When I woke up, Woojin, Hyunjin and Seungmin were all gone.” 

“Why didn’t they take you?” 

He shrugs, “I have no clue.” 

A frown stretches across your lips. Too many unanswered questions were floating through your mind, creating a hurricane of confusion and frustration. You exhale harshly, “None of this makes any sense. I still don’t understand how they found us in the first place. 

“And what do they want with you boys again? They’re the ones who released you, didn’t they?” None of the boys say anything. They were probably just as clueless as you were. 

“We’ll figure all of this out later. We need to focus on getting the boys out first.” Chan is the first to break the tense atmosphere. His hand appears on your elbow, leading you in the direction you were heading before. “We need to find a way to get inside and make our way into the confinement sector. There should be a vent right up ahead we can squeeze through.” 

“Hang on.” Another hand grabs your hand and keeps you in place. Confused, you turn back to peer at Minho who’s staring at the oldest hybrid. It was too dark to see what kind of expression was strewn across his face, but whatever it was, you could tell by the intensity of his grip that it wasn’t positive. “(Y/N)-ah and Changbin-ssi should go find Sung and Lix first. It’ll be better with more hands-” 

“-There’s no time, Minho. Don’t you remember what they used to do to us?” 

“I’m just saying, hyung. This will be dangerous, we don’t want anyone to get hurt.” 

“And I won’t let that happen.” Chan hisses. His fingers tighten around your arm and something stirs in the pit of your stomach. You don’t know exactly what it is, but something felt off. 

Still, you allow Chan to lead you along the side of the building. Minho refuses to release your hand throughout the journey, keeping his fingers woven through yours. The four of you make it to the back of the large laboratory, carefully avoiding a search light sweeping the area. You keep your back pressed against the wall as your feet carry you through the packed snow. They come to a halt when Chan signals, lets go of your arm and whispers, “Bin, help me with this grate.” 

Changbin passes you to join his brother. You couldn’t see past Chan, but you could tell they were doing their best to haul the cover off of the ventilation shaft. A painful creak emerges followed by a brief clank of metal. Minho curses under his breath before yanking you to the ground, just in time for the beam of light to swing over your head. A shaky breath blows past your lips, “Th-Thanks…” 

“No problem. Did you guys get it yet?” 

“Yeah, Changbin and I can’t fit our shoulders. It’ll have to be you and (Y/N).” 

You nod, “Okay, I’ll go first-” 

“-(Y/N), wait.” Just as you were about to slide into the vent, Chan takes you into his arms. From the searchlights, you were able to see the absolute fear present across his handsome features. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him look so afraid before, not even for his brothers. It strengthens the strange feeling in your gut. 

“What is it?” You murmur, cupping his left cheek. Beneath your frozen palm, his skin is hot to the touch. You want nothing more then to cuddle in his body and forget all the horrors of your reality. Maybe you would be able to one day. 

“I… I wanted to tell you something, in case anything happens…” He smiles sadly, laying his own hand along the one pressed to his face. “In case we get separated again…” 

You return his smile, “Tell me on the way to Yellow Wood.” 

His eyes widen, “You… You’re coming with us?” 

“You guys are my family. I’d follow you until the ends of the earth.” You chuckle, “I love you, Chan. I’m sorry it took me this long to tell you.” 

A single teardrop emerges from the wolf’s eye and cascades down his cheek. You catch it with your thumb, his relief and sadness bleeding through your fingertip. You lean forward to catch his lips in one last kiss as if to say goodbye. A brief goodbye, that is. 

When you pull away, more droplets were making their way down Chan’s cheeks. The smile he gives you sends a flutter through your chest. He whispers softly, “I love you too, (Y/N). I’m sorry for everything.” 

“(Y/N)-ah…” You peer over your shoulder to see Minho stood in front of the vent with a sad expression on his face. He tilts his head. You understand immediately. 

Turning back to Chan. you murmur, “I’ll see you soon.” 

You don’t have the heart to hear his answer, so you sprint away from him and climb inside the vent. Your body just barely fit inside the metal tube. It reminded you of that stupid garbage chute from when you met Minho for the first time. What a stupid coincidence. 

You hear the coyote shuffle in behind you before saying, “Follow the path forward. When you come to an intersection, go right.” 

“Got it.” You begin to crawl along the metal floor, ignoring the heavy warmth bleeding through your winter clothing. Even so, after a couple minutes, sweat manifests on your skin. You were almost tempted to shed some of your layers, but you doubt you’d be able to with how little space there was. Plus, the faster you move, the faster you can get out. 

At the intersection, you turn right just as Minho instructed. It may have just been you, but the air flow seems to grow even hotter in this particular vent. Your breathing deepens, lung pulling air through the humidity. Minho must have heard your panting, “(Y/N)-ah, you okay?” 

“Fine.” You gasp, quickening your pace. “How much longer?” 

“Down this shaft and take another right. There will be an opening at the end that we’ll be able to get out. Can you make it?” 

You nod, “Yeah. I’ll be fine.” 

You scale the rest of the distance with no issues other than the perspiration pooling in your clothes. When you reach the opening, you have to carefully maneuver yourself stomach first from the vent onto something tall and composed of metal. Minho is right behind you, scrambling to his feet and flicking the sweat from his silver ears. He releases a relief-filled sigh, “Okay. They should be around here somewhere.” 

Your eyes flitter around the area. Similar to outside, it’s completely dark all except for a couple spotlights. The lights weren’t related to security though, instead they lit up the glass cells likely meant for their hybrid creations. Most of them were empty. 

Except one. 

“Minho… Is that Jeongin?” 

Minho’s head snaps to where you point. His eyes widen to saucers, mouth dropping to the floor. In the nearest cage was a young hybrid, maybe a fennec fox based on the large, beige ears jutting out from his blonde head. You never found the chance to read Jeongin’s file, but none of the other boys had any idea where the lab would have sent him. 

What if they didn’t send him anywhere at all?

“He’s been here all along.” Minho hisses. His claws digging into the sides of his trousers. “Fucking bastards.” 

“C’mon, I think we can get over there.” You take a step forward into the center of the square structure, pointing toward a ladder in a nearby corner. “If we get over there, we can head down and-” 

Your plan is cut off by a low rumble. You and Minho exchange a confused glance before peering warily around the dark room. A shudder crawls down your spine, the waver present in your voice, “What was..?” 

Suddenly, the ground disappears beneath your feet. Your body drops along with your stomach. Your fall is brief, because when you look up, you see a panicked Minho holding onto your arm and preventing you from dropping into what looks like one of those cages Jeongin was inside. You try not to panic, but the horror across the coyote’s features makes it so much worse not to do so. 

“M-Minho…” 

“You’re fine, (Y/N)-ah! Just hang on-!” 

Another rumble sounds through the laboratory, obviously catching your companion off guard. Minho’s arm buckles beneath your weight, so he lurches forward to grab you with his other limb. He inhales a deep breath before saying, “...This wasn’t how it was supposed to go! God, (Y/N)-ah, I-I’ll pull you up! Just- No!” 

Minho is wrenched away from you, leaving nothing else to keep you afloat. Your body slices through the air and cascades the rest of the distance into the cage. You land against the linoleum floor with a loud thud. Pain shoots through your hip and shoulders. You pay it no mind and launch back to your feet. Looking up just in time, you see the hole you fell into close up again. 

No sign of Minho. 

“What the hell!?” You screech, hands flying to tug at your hair. Furious and terrified, you glance around the glass barriers, finding a figure standing just opposite where you’re stood. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the bright, fluorescent lighting, but when they do, you swear your brain is still playing tricks on you. 

Your hands fall to your sides as your eyes nearly bug out of their sockets. Once again, the storm of thoughts hits you like a civil war in your mind. The conscious and disillusioned parts of your brains fight for control as the figure moves closer. Even with their face entirely visible, you didn’t know what to believe. 

That, or you didn’t want to believe it. 

With tears welling in your eyes and betrayal forming in your heart, you whimper, not at all liking the name that fell from your lips. 

The name that you’ve uttered so many times before. 

“Ch-Chan…?”

[secondchancesfic]

S.C Chapter VIII

Superhero!AU

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Pairings: Parental Analogical, Platonical Anxceit. Sibling Roman and Remus. 

Tags/Warnings: Anxiety, panic attack, villain!Roman, villain!Remus, kidnapping mention, violence implied, broken bones mention, gore mentions/visions. 

Words: 4703

NIGHT

Logan became frustrated by the little information there was for this two. Heroes from other cities only recall of them being a complete nuisance, harming few people and stealing a lot of goods, but other than that there was nothing.

He slump in his sit and let out a heavy huff. It wasn’t only this impossible investigation, it wasn’t the missing people constantly appearing in the news. Virgil has been avoiding talking to him, it was almost right after the incident with this villains. He ponder if his actions scared his son, but it couldn’t be that. They returned home and talked about it. Virgil seemed fine. Or…Was he lying?

The older hero felt frighten of himself. It was really hard to not think about it. He would feel a cold sensation crawling in his back every time the vision of the broken and bloodied young villain appeared in his mind.

The way his body was crooked.

The way his eyes almost loose the light of life.

The choked manner he was calling for his missing brother.

It was too much.

The buzzing of the phone got him out of the spiral mess he was getting into. He checked the hour. 10:59 pm. Virgil and Gregory must have gone home by now, surprisingly there was no emergency to attend at that hour so it was a really slow night. He then unblocked his phone and saw there was a message from Patton.

Patton: Hey! How are you? 83

Logan saw the number, confused by the meaning of it.

Logan: Greetings, Patton. What does the 83 mean?

Patton: It’s a face!! Like the kitty face but with glasses!! 8D

He smiled by the silliness of this man. Logan had spent more time talking with Patton and has discovered he’s quite funny, even though he loves to tell dumb puns and add silly faces at the end of his sentences. The first date was not an entire disaster but the hero was sure it wasn’t going to become into something more. To his surprise, Patton was completely open and excited to continue talking to him.

Logan: Oh. I see.

Patton: Soooo, how are you?

Logan: I am doing just fine, thank you. How about you, Patton?

Patton: Oh you know, just finishing up in the clinic.

Logan: Isn’t it late for you to be there?

Patton: Maaaaybe…

-This man’s love for animals seriously disrupts his night schedule- Logan thought to himself, not seeing the hypocrisy in his mental statement.

Patton: Are you busy?

Logan: A bit, just getting some information for a class.

Patton: It must be a hard theme if you have to investigate for it 8P

Logan: Some clarity doesn’t hurt from time to time.

Patton: 8333

They would have continue talking if it weren’t for the person knocking in his office door. It startle Logan and almost made his phone fall.

-Come in!- He said as he place the phone down. A man with a pink jumper and black pants introduce himself in the hero’s office, holding what it seemed to be a couple of archives. His arms had symbols tattooed in them with several images between nature and mixing up with… cartoons?

-Staying late again, Logan?- Emile spoke as he got close to the desk.

-Yes. I probably should head out once we’re done- Logan said as he saw Emile sat down. They spoke with familiarity since they both knew each other for a while now

–Anything unusual with Elliot?-

-Not really, they’ve improved a lot since they got here. Also letting them go back to class lower their anxiety by a lot. Guess their grades are very important to them- Emile smiled.

-I’m really glad to hear that, they are a brilliant student- Logan said with fondness in his tone, while looking down at this desk.

-I know. Um… It’s not because of them that I came to talk to you- Emile took a serious tone and place the archives down, opening one with a variety of drawings.

Logan look carefully at the messy drawings.

-Elliot let me see through a couple of their memories- Emile said, getting a shock look of Logan –And before you say anything, I know you told me to not do that under any…- He gets interrupted

-Yes, I told you that. You know the influence you can have on others- Logan said in a serious and loud tone. Emile had been prohibited to use his powers unless Logan was present, which was the agreement after Emile went through the reforming project, not only for everyone’s safety but himself.

-Just listen- Emile, annoyed, looked at Logan who then just stayed silent. -Elliot tried to explain how the guy who kidnapped their boyfriend looked. As you know, they met this person a few times but he was wearing a mask. The only time they saw his face was the first time they met-

-And this?- Logan asked as he took the drawings.

-I saw what they saw and could draw a couple sketches but that night they met him was dark. There was no light. The only thing I could sketch correctly was this-

Emile showed a sketch of part of a face, the only thing visible were bright sky blue eyes and a smile that could be seen thanks to the light coming from a window, just enough to illuminate below his nose.

-Other than this, we don’t know much about this guy- Emile said

-I see…- Logan saw the drawing, but didn’t recognize anything on it. The guy continues to be a mystery.

-If I could record sound from the visions I would- Emile chuckled. –Umm… There’s another thing I wanted to talk to you about-

-What is it?-

-It’s about Virgil…- Logan look up from the drawing.

-I can’t tell you exactly what Elliot said but Virgil seems to be having a bad time right now. You really should talk to him- Emile said staring at Logan worried. Logan placed the drawing down and looked at Emile.

-Thank you, Emile. I will take this into consideration.-

Emile nodded and started to put the drawings away. Logan hold the sketch of the guy.

-Can I keep this one?- Logan asked Emile who simply smiled and nodded.

-Get home already, you workaholic- Emile loudly said as he left the office.

Logan smiled but once he laid eyes on the drawing it fade away. He took the drawing and placed it in a drawer. Then grabbed his phone to check his messages.

Patton: I’ll head home now. You should probably sleep.

Logan stared at it for a moment.

Logan: I will. Get home safely.

Not even a minute passed.

Patton: I will! Now go to bed 8P

Logan smiled, grabbed his coat and left the office for the night.

 NEXT DAY, NOON

Virgil had skipped classes once again, coffee and stress do not mix at all. He stayed outside the classrooms, in the common zone. Benches, tables and trees were all around this place so students could relax. He had laid down below the shadow of a big tree, watching a couple students passing next to him. Some were waiting for their next class to begin. Virgil trying to relax, his music helped him feel as if he was disappearing, the only thing he wanted to do was being invisible for a bit. The sensation fade out when someone nudge his elbow.

-Hey Virge- Elliot said as they sat down next to him.

-Hey… What are you doing here?-

-Class got cancelled. Man, this teachers are so lazy…- Elliot chuckled

-Lazy and bad…- Virgil said smiling lightly

-Yeah…- Elliot said as they looked at Virgil who was just staring at the sky. They both stayed in silence for a moment. Elliot took out their phone and stared at it, thinking on how to bring up what they were thinking. They decided to just go for it.

-Have you… Told your dad?-

–About…?- Virgil asked, his eyes were closed, trying to pay more attention to the music.

-Well… You know… ‘bout the incident?- They said nervously.

Virgil, shocked, open his eyes. He then sat down and begin to put his things away.

-Virgil-

-I told you it isn’t a big deal and to not bring it up-

-Dude!- Elliot shouted but then lower their voice –If it wasn’t a big deal, why did you had a breakdown?-

-It’s just stress! It’s just that! I have a lot of studying to do, besides it was my fault! I should have known-

Elliot placed their hands on Virgil’s shoulders –What happened wasn’t your fault-

Virgil flinch at the touch and stood back, not letting Elliot to touch him. –I-I don’t want to talk about it, I’ll see you later- Virgil grabbed his backpack and went for the exit in the building premises. Elliot sighed and rubbed their neck, before being called by a group of friends.

Virgil continue walking until he got to the exit, one of his teachers bumped with him. They stared at each other, the teacher had a broken arm. Virgil looked terrified, and passed him quickly. He walked all the way home but once he was in front of his house he decided to go to the hero’s base.

It soon was clear it have been a bad idea. His anxiety quickly rise the moment he enter due to the amount of people who were there. Everyone was trying to greet him but he quickly darted towards the cells section. Virgil got in the cells corridors and started walking towards his and Gregory’s but the stress was too much.

He felt as if his chest was compressing or swelling, his eyes began to form tears and he couldn’t stand steadily. Virgil kneel down and curled in himself, he was having a panic attack. His breath was uneven, eyes closed shot in an attempt to not cry and any attempt to a breathing exercise was futile. It was a suffocating and terrifying experience.

Then, a knock.

It was soft or at least he perceive it that way. It became a bit louder as he focus more on the sound. Virgil opened his eyes to see Roman knocking and looking directly at him. He was confused when he stared at the villain, Roman was speaking but Virgil couldn’t hear him. The hero begin to curl on himself again but the persistent knock from the villain made him turned to him. Roman was making a type of sign, he showed his hand with four fingers up while using his other hand to go up and down as well as doing the inhaling motion.  

“4 seconds in” Virgil recognize what he was trying to say. He begin to inhale for 4 seconds, Roman made a thumbs up and started to count up to 7 seconds while Virgil was retaining his breath. When he exhale Roman counted 8 seconds and after that he made a thumbs up which made Virgil smiled internally.

The hero pressed his back in the glass, relaxing a bit. The villain sat down giving his back to the hero and keeping him company. Once Virgil had calm down he realize how odd it was the villain not only knew this exercise but also… helped him go through it. Curiosity took over him, he stood up and opened the door to the cell. The villain fell out and almost hit his head in the floor.

Roman stared up at the hero who looked at him with an eyebrow raised. The villain quickly stood up to see the hero, the rapid movement made him hold his side where his rib was broken. Virgil felt guilt building up in him, he looked somewhere else that wasn’t the villain and started to talk to avoid any awkward silence.

-So… Uh… Thanks…- Virgil said.

Roman look up and composed himself, pretending to be fine. –It was nothing really, you were lucky I was here to help-

-…I was lucky you were locked here?- Virgil smirked at the shocked and embarrassed look in Roman. –How’s your… uh… Rib?-

-Better, not thanks to you- Roman remarked.

-Yeah… Sorry about that-

-Yeah, you should…- Roman stopped. He looked down and sighed –It’s… Fine, I probably deserved it-

-Probably?- Virgil said crossing his arms.

-Ok, I deserved that- Roman said as he went to sit in the bed.

Virgil closed the door and went to grab the chair near a desk just beside the bed. He sat down and got the confused glance of the villain.

-What?- He asked

-What are you doing here? Aren’t I supposed to be alone because I’m soooo dangerous?- Roman said sarcastically as he laid down carefully.

-Oh…Uh…Right, I can just leave if you- Virgil was beginning to say but got interrupted

-NO! I mean… You don’t have to leave so quickly-

The quick movement of Roman startle Virgil, but after he heard the desperate almost plead of the villain it made him chuckle.

Roman groan and slump back in the bed. –Sorry, I just… I get so fucking bored here! I never thought I would missed my brother but GOD do I miss his stupid humor…-

Virgil looked at the villain, feeling empathetic towards him. Roman then looked at Virgil and got flustered. –Is… Is there any news… About him?- The villain asked worried. That took the hero aback.

-No… Sorry, we haven’t seen him nor found any traces of him…-

The villain sighed. –It doesn’t surprise me… He is really sneaky…-

-Which is weird… ‘cause you two wore stupid clown costumes that couldn’t be missed from a mile- Virgil joked, getting a gasp from Roman.

-EXCUSE ME, Mr. “I’m the Night”, MY costume is from a respectable PRINCE! Whatever the fuck my brother wore could be classify as a clown BUT ME?! How dare you?-

Virgil snorted and laughed by how animated Roman became, the villain stared annoyed at the hero but he couldn’t help but smile at the nice laugh of this guy. It could be that he was alone for a while, but he liked to hear someone else other than himself.

-Heh, at least you two are noticeable. Apparently I’m so invisible every time I act I don’t matter!-

-What?- Roman said incredulously

-A month and so ago I caught my first villain and did I get any credit? No! Sure, Elliot is nice but they could have burned me to a crisp!-

-Who’s Elliot?- The villain said confused but intrigue.

-Oh… Uh…- Virgil suddenly paled and started to close down.

-Chill out. Whoever it is, I’m not gonna say anything. Pretty sure you shouldn’t be here either, so if talking will stop you from visiting me I’m going to make the effort to keep my mouth shut- Roman smiled and winked at Virgil.

Virgil scoffed and chuckled. –Ok… Uh… Instead of… the name I used, which you didn’t hear! Let’s say I said Crimson-

Roman sat down quickly. –YOU WERE THE ONE WHO CAUGHT CRIMSON?!-

The shout startled Virgil.

-Holy shit! You have no idea how excited I was to know who caught that pyromaniac, Remus was super pissed because he wanted to have a show down with him- Roman laughed

-They- Virgil corrected.

-Yeah, they, whatever. I’m surprised, emo, but not impressed. How come you could take down them but not us?-

-Uh, because there were 2 of you? And besides, your brother did all the work. Your shocking powers have no effect on me-

-Oh right, that’s why you didn’t curled up and then break my rib the other day?- Virgil blushed and crossed him arms grumpily. –By the way… how did you do it?-

-What?-

-Break my rib… You only touch me, but… what exactly do you do?- Roman was genuinely curious.

Virgil stared at him surprised, then looked down at his hand. His expression showed a bit of guilt and what seems like melancholy.

-My powers are… two sided. On one side… I can cure practically anything, illness and injuries. That’s actually how you are alive-

Roman stared at him. –You… saved me?-

-Yeah… I was able to get on time to partially cure you. One of the back sides of my powers is that… The injury or illness will pass to me. I can cure myself eventually but it still hurts, you know?-

Roman nodded and pondered for a moment. –What’s the other side of your powers?-

Virgil let out a heavy breath. –Well… I can cure people and transfer their pain to myself… But I also can take from others and cause them pain…-

-Oh… So when I got my rib broken…-

-I-It was an accident…Mostly… I didn’t meant to break your rib, I just… I-

-Hey, calm down… I understand. Like I said, I deserved it- Roman said as he laid down.

Virgil looked at him, his anxiety was still there as well as his guilt but Roman reassurance sounded… genuine. They stayed in silence for a moment before the hero spoke.

-Say… How did you know I was having a panic attack?-

Roman smiled fondly. –I’ve seen the signs. My brother might seem and act like lunatic but… Sometimes he’s afraid of many things.- He chuckled. –Which is ironic, since his powers involve literal nightmares-

Virgil stared and nodded. Roman looked back at him.

-If you find him, don’t tell him what I said. He doesn’t like to feel weak, it’s a family thing- Roman smiled nervously, as if he was hiding something.

-I won’t, don’t worry- Virgil agreed.

-Oh!- Roman suddenly exclaimed. –Why are you here? Like, in general? I’ve heard from “Scar face” that you study with the Elliot pal. Aren’t you supposed to be in school?-

Virgil paled and kept silent for a moment, not looking at the villain who got more curious each second that passed.

-What?- Roman smiled. –Did something happened? Did the hero used his powers for a villainy act?- The villain smirked and looked at the hero as if he was waiting to start new banter.

Virgil look angry and promptly stood up, making the chair fall and startle Roman in the process. The hero went to the door but stopped when he heard Roman call for him.

-Wait! Where are you going?- He didn’t get a respond from Virgil, the hero just stayed there. –Ugh… Fine go, whatever.- The villain slump back, Virgil was about to open the door but Roman talked once again.

–But, uh… Could… Could you come by sometime? You aren’t as annoying as I thought and… It’s nice to talk to someone-

Virgil wanted to looked at the villain but he refrain himself, he kept looking in front of him and said flustered. –Sure…-

Roman look up, he had a smile and hopeful eyes plastered in his face. –Oh, by the way…- Virgil said. –You aren’t as annoying yourself.-

Roman scoffed and smiled while looking at Virgil leaving his cell. The hero began walking towards his own, and after being out of Roman’s sight he looked back at the villain and smiled. Turning villains into his friends is becoming a habit, one that he doesn’t mind at all.

  LATE AFTERNOON

-Fuck this stupid assignment!- Gregory grabbed his notebook and other notes and fling it to the wall. Logan was working in his laptop while drinking tea, looking at the entire act. Virgil was in his room sleeping, or at least that’s what he thought due to the loud music coming from his room.

-You could take a break from it- Logan advised. -Then go back to it once you feel well rested-

-What I want is to not do this. This assignment doesn’t even make sense, I feel I’m doing my teacher’s investigation for his doctorate- Gregory stood up, he fix his bleached messy hair and walked towards Logan, sitting down in front of the older hero.

-Oh? What is it about?- Logan question curiously, looking up and staring at Gregory.

Gregory immediately felt awkward and looked away. –It’s just, this has nothing to do with the themes we saw. It’s like the teacher pull it out of his ass. I’m considering not turn this in-

-Hmm…- Logan thought for a moment. –Well, whatever type of assignment it is, I’m sure you can make it without any problem-

-Did you heard anything I said?- Gregory crossed his arms and looked deadpan at Logan

-I did. But I know you are smart enough to make anything. Really, Dee, you can recreate my gadgets with one look yet this papers are what stops you?- Logan smiled. Gregory stared at him with wide eyes and blush. Then practically spew his sentence.

–It’s different! Your gadgets do make a difference. What’s this gonna do?-

-Maybe the investigation won’t do anything right away, but it will give you some helpful tools to make one when you require it-

Gregory scoffed. –That’s the typical, bullshit excuse teachers give to their students-

Logan look up at Gregory and sighed. –Look, I know some of the works can be tedious but they must serve a purpose if your teachers are assigning them to you-

Gregory slump in the table and groan. Logan looked at him sympathetically, he understood the stress of the students, and how the amount of homework and projects can take a toll on them. He knew it very well.

The older hero stood up and walked to the side of the younger one, he then placed a hand on Gregory’s back and begin patting him.

–It’s going to be alright, Dee-

Gregory look up and looked at Logan surprised, the older hero placed his hand on the younger hero’s shoulder. An electric sensation run through Gregory, he isn’t fond of being touch but with Logan he felt different. He always wanted to be closer to Logan, the older hero was always there for him and made sure he was ok. Gregory just wanted to be with him, as impossible as it might seem, or as impossible and weird as his friend Remy told him it was.

–Just take some time to rest, ok?- Logan smiled fondly, moving his hand away. He didn’t expect for Gregory to grab his hand. The older hero looked confused, Gregory then hold his hand with both hands, gently moving Logan’s hand closer to his face.

For a quick moment he felt time had stopped, for a quick second everything seemed to fit perfectly in a confusing puzzle. It was so quick and short, because right before Logan’s hand could touch the scared cheek of Gregory, the phone of the young hero ringed.

Gregory quickly let go of Logan’s hand, blushing profusely as he stood up and went to get his phone from the sofa, leaving the older hero with his confusion.

-Are you ok?- Logan asked from the table.

-I’M FINE! I’M ALRIGHT!- Gregory practically screamed while stumbling with his notebooks and searching his stupid phone in the mess.

-You don’t sound alright. Are you sick? Did you wanted me to check your temperature?- Logan tried to make sense of the younger hero’s actions.

-NO! I…- IT’S FINE! DON’T WORRY- He continue yelling until he found his phone, the name on the other end was Remy’s but before he could answer it, it stopped ringing. He quickly took a breath and composed himself. –You are right! I need to take a breather from this stupid thing. I’m gonna go for a walk.-

-Oh, alright. See you later then- Logan said, trying to not mind the explosive reaction from the younger one. “He might be under a lot of stress, maybe I should get something comforting for him…” Logan thought for a moment before resuming his work.

 Gregory left the department building and went to the alley next to it. He rest his back on the wall and felt himself shaking. What the hell was he doing? He should have surpass this stupid crush, he knows it’s not meant to be. He knows it. But why is there a part of him that still blindly hopes for something more? Remy said it could take time to get over it but he’s getting frustrated by this stupidity. Heavy drops began to fall, wetting his cheeks. For a moment he thought it began to rain but quickly realize it was just him crying, exasperated.

The phone ringed again, he mindlessly look at it and saw Remy’s name pop up. Gregory answered the call and put it in his ear, trying his best not to sound choked up or let out a sob. –What…?- He got interrupted

-HOLY SHIT, HOLY SHIT, HOLY SHIT. FINALLY!!! PLEASE, YOU HAVE TO COME OVER AND HELP ME ASAP! RIGHT FUCKING NOW!-

The pleading and desperate words snapped Gregory out, his breakdown will have to wait. He lazily fix his hair and stood up straight. –Wow, slow down. What the hell is going on?-

-I –I can’t explain it! You have to see it!- Remy stuttered –Chingada madre. JUST COME OVER, OK?!-

Ok, Remy started to speak Spanish. This must be bad news.

-Alright! Alright. I’ll go there as fast as I can. Are you in danger though?- Gregory begin to ran towards a taxi stop.

-I… I’m not sure??? Maybe?! Uh..! Please just get here-

-Ok, on my way-

Fortunately a taxi passed and stopped to get Gregory. The taxi drove relatively fast, but by the time Gregory got to Remy’s it was completely dark. A few lights were turn on, others were flickering or completely off. As always, the whole neighborhood looked like a ghost town, hard to believe anyone lived in that place. Not that it looks in bad conditions, except for a couple buildings, but because no lights were ever on at night.

Gregory went fast towards Remy’s building and ran upstairs to get to his department. He finally got to the floor and went to knock on the door of his friend. Loud noises came from the inside, making the young hero to get startle and ready to come in. He grabbed the handle but the door suddenly opened and closed, while letting Remy out.

-SUP!- Remy said with a nervous smile and a messy bunch of hair.

-Sup? What the fuck is going on? Are you ok?- The hero said loudly while holding his friend to check him. Remy bat the hero’s hands away from him.

-I’m fine! It’s not me who you should be worried ‘bout…- He said, looking grim at the door.

-What? What did you do? Please tell me there’s not a corpse, I didn’t brought a shovel- Gregory said with no ounce of sarcasm.

-What, I didn’t- Awww… You would go that far for me?-

-Remy-

-Ok, ok. Listen. THIS? This is serious shit. Focus on me- Remy made a sign. Gregory looked at his friend unamused. –Before I show you this, you have to promise me 2 things. 1, you are NOT gonna freak out. And 2, you are NOT, I repeat, NOT gonna involve any of your stupid friends at the hero’s bullshit club-

-OK! Now I AM planning to do that- Gregory said looking afraid.

-No! Promise me, promise me that you won’t freak out nor contact your club-

-Why do you need me to promise-?-

-SWEAR ON YOUR FATHERS GRAVE!-

-You know that doesn’t have much value…- Gregory stared deadpan.

-Shit, you’re right... Come on!-

-Fine! I promise you I won’t freak out nor contact anyone-

-Thank you!- Remy said, turning to the door, but stop. –Under NO CIRCUMSTANCE!

-Well, shit. You got me there. Not like I could betray your trust the moment I see the shit show you just got yourself and myself into.- Gregory said sarcastically.

Remy stared pondering how true or untrue the statement was, he decided to take the chance. He sighed and open the door.

-Don’t freak out- He said once again.

They walk in, turned around a corner and Gregory froze. Remy looked mortified at his friend, really hoping he wouldn’t scream. Gregory could only stare directly at the couch, the couch occupied by non-other than a bruised and unconscious half of the Royal Pain duo. The Duke has been found.

Prologue/ CH 1/ CH 2 / CH 3 / CH 4 / CH 5 / CH 6 / CH 7 / CH 8 / CH 9

I’m sorry again! I’m trying to be more productive this summer, now that I have stopped having classes. Hope you enjoy this chapter! I sure did! 

TAG LIST:

@thatweriddoodlingllama @kaimariethebi @potato–justpotato @enderperson43

[filmfanatic82]

AO3 Link (HERE)

Chapter 8: Lexa (II)

“Lexa… Lexa… Lexa…” Clarke chants Lexa’s name, like the holiest of prayers, each time with a bit more conviction than the last. She grinds down, riding Lexa’s fingers in a rapid rhythmic pattern that signifies one thing and one thing only. Clarke’s teetering on the edge.

Beautiful.

The lone word explodes within the dark recesses of Lexa’s mind, leaving no room for any other thoughts. It rapidly grows, filling every inch of available space until it’s all Lexa can seem to concentrate on.

Clarke is beautiful.

This isn’t a new revelation. No. Lexa has known this from the very first moment she laid eyes on the blond, back in 6th-grade biology class. Clarke possesses a rare type of beauty that merely isn’t contained to just physical features alone. It’s a beauty that transcends. It radiates from every inch of her very being, almost blinding in nature.

It’s warmth. Plain and simple. The kind that invades the soul, leaving everlasting imprints on all that it touches.

It’s a beauty that Lexa can’t fathom living without and yet…

And yet, that’s the very crux of the problem she’s facing. Head versus heart. Love versus academic opportunities… Opportunities that could set Lexa up on the career path of her dreams.

Love is weakness.

The words of her father suddenly invade her thoughts, drowning everything else out. It’s an all too familiar phrase, one that has been verbally beaten into Lexa throughout the years along with a steady diatribe of the importance of perfection.

Being good, just is not enough. Not when one has the potential of being the best. And to be the best, one must be willing to sacrifice.

Happiness is a luxury, not a necessity.

Lexa can feel the every-constant mass of anxiety start to swirl once again in the pit of her stomach as she falls further down the rabbit hole of her father’s words.

“Fuuuuck,” Clarke moans in unbridle ecstasy, snapping Lexa back out of her thoughts and back into the sheer beauty of the here and now.

“Shhh… They’re gonna to hear us,” Lexa says punctuating her point with a series of bruising kisses along the slope of Clarke’s neck.

“Oh… It’s… Too… Late… For… That…” Clarke replies. She grinds harder down into Lexa’s palm and runs her free hand through her wild mane of hair.

“Clarke…”

“Lexa…” Clarke leans in and delivers a searing kiss, taking Lexa’s bottom lip in between her teeth. She tugs against the fleshy pulp, not quite hard enough to cause real pain, but just enough to send an aftershock of pleasure rolling over the length of Lexa’s body. It’s a signature move. One that Lexa has become addicted to. Just like everything else about Clarke.

Lexa lets out a long moan, momentarily forgetting that they aren’t alone in the house.

They had snuck away, under the guise of needing to “get ready” for the night, but of course, it was the farthest thing from the truth. As soon as Clarke had stripped out of her vee-neck shirt, exposing the baby blue bra that she had fondly dubbed the panty dropper, all bets were off.

All it took was a few simple touches and the next thing Lexa knew, they were stumbling towards the bed, clothes flying in every which direction. Their moves were feverish and frantic. Nails digging into flesh and teeth nipping at key pleasure points. All signs that where they were heading wasn’t in the realms of what Lexa would classify as “make love.”

“Harder, baby,” Clarke breathes out into Lexa’s ear, voice dripping with undiluted lust. “I’m so close.”

And that’s all Lexa needs to hear. Her hands grip tighter around the voluptuous blonde before her as she throws every ounce of energy towards pushing them both over the edge. A few additional thrusts of her fingers and a well-timed swipe of her thumb against Clarke’s engorged clit and suddenly, Lexa feels them skyrocket into the atmosphere, fueled by adrenaline-laced passion. Raw and almost animalistic in nature.

It’s beautiful.

So, so beautiful.

Lexa lets the beauty of the moment thoroughly wash over her as she slows down her pace, gently easing Clarke down from her high. She locks eyes with the two crystal blue orbs in front of her causing a sly smile to crawl across her face.

“I love you.” The words tumble freely from Lexa’s lips, breaking the silence between them.

It isn't the first time the words have been uttered between them. No. Lexa has been freely saying these words to Clarke and vise verse on a daily basis for almost the entire time they’ve been together.

But this time, it feels different.

The words feel heavy, bogged down with a hidden meaning that only Lexa knows. As if there’s only so many more times these words will be said between each other. A visible limit, making each utterance matter that much more.

“I love you too,” Clarke replies with a post-sex raspiness. She shifts her body, possessively wrapping her limbs around Lexa and nuzzles her head into the crux between Lexa’s collarbone and neck.

“No. I really mean it… I love you, Clarke.”

“Yeah, I know.” Clarke lets out a light laugh as her fingers playfully twirl a loosen strand of Lexa’s chestnut mane. “Everything okay, baby?”

No.

That’s the answer that Lexa so desperately wants to give. To just rip the bandaid off and exposure the gory truth that lies beneath. But she can’t seem to find the right words. The ones that will adequately explain without inflicting any lasting damage to the woman she loves the most.

“More than okay, my love,” Lexa replies with a light but a reassuring kiss to Clarke's forehead.

“Good.” Clarke returns the gesture, with a kiss of her own. But unlike Lexa’s, it’s filled with the underlying desire for another round.

“Clarke… We don’t have time,” Lexa whines as Clarke pulls out of the kiss.

“I know. Just wanted to leave you with a reminder of what’s to come later tonight.” Clarke plants one more peck on Lexa’s lips, before slipping out of bed. She starts to move around the room, haphazardly collecting her clothes piece by piece. “You think they heard us?”

Lexa goes to open her mouth, but before she can utter a single word--

“Yeah, we did! Now hurry the hell up, or we’re gonna be late,” Raven calls out from the other side of the bedroom door.

“Fuuuck,” Lexa sighs dropping her head back against the pillow with a noticeable thud. She shuts her eyes as she can feel the familiar flush of embarrassment spread across her cheeks.

“C’mon,” Clarke says, reaching out and grabbing hold of Lexa’s hand. She lovingly entwines her fingers with Lexa’s and giving a light squeeze in the process. It’s a simple gesture, but meaningful nonetheless. A wordless promise that Lexa isn’t alone in this world. Not by far. “It won’t be as bad as you think.”

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

Surreal.

That’s the only word that comes to mind as Lexa stands within the desolated corridor, listening to the ruggedly handsome young resident standing before her rattle through a bunch of medical jargon that is all but indecipherable.

Anya is alive.

That much Lexa has been able to grasp onto. But as for the rest of the details… They are merely lost, buried within a minefield of complex terminology that is utterly foreign to her in every sense of the word.

Clavicle fracture… Blunt force trauma… 3rd-degree lacerations… Partial compression of the C5 vertebrae…

Each phrase builds upon the next, feeding the ever-growing mass of anxiety and fear churning within the confines of Lexa’s stomach.

Anya’s alive, but…

But in what state?

“Is there someone else we can call or--”

“No. Just me. My parents moved to New York two years ago. I’ll let them know, but…” Lexa trails off, not quite sure how to finish her sentence. An awkward silence falls between them as the young resident continues to stare at her with sympathetic eyes. Lexa forces a hint of a smile in return. It’s a feeble attempt at some sort of normalcy, but it’s all she can manage to do at the moment.

“Alright. Well, the police are going to stop by probably in the next 20 minutes or so to take her statement, but otherwise, she’s all clear for visitors… Do you have any questions?”

Lexa shakes her head, still holding onto the smile for dead life. It’s a lie. She has a million and one questions racing through her mind, all dying to be asked. But Lexa’s voice is nowhere to be found.

So instead, she smiles and like clockwork, the young resident smiles back with the false reassurance that she’s indeed okay.

“Hang in there, okay?” The young resident caps his sentence with a light pat on Lexa’s shoulder and then takes off down the corridor, leaving her alone with nothing but the chilling stillness of the hospital.

Lexa lets out a long sigh and runs her hands through her mane of loose curls. Her eyes drift back towards the doorway of Anya’s hospital room, staring into the dark abyss. She wants to move. To race right in there and fling herself into the comfort of her older sister’s arms, like she used to back when they were kids, and their parents would engage in their late night verbal sparring matches. Lexa so desperately wants to…

But she’s frozen.

Fear, mixed the unknown of what lurks just beyond that doorway, is in control now, leaving Lexa virtually incapacitated.

“What did they say?” Clarke asks as she approaches with a matching set of coffees in her hands.

“Huh?”

“The doctor. He was just here, right? What did he say? How’s Anya doing?”

Lexa gives a slight shrug of her shoulders glancing back once again at the door. “She’s clear for visitors.”

“Good,” Clarke hands Lexa one of the coffee with a warm smile. “Figured you could use this. You still take it black, right?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“Glad to know some things haven’t changed,” Clarke replies before taking a long sip of her own coffee. She follows Lexa’s eyes towards the doorway as a sudden realization falls upon her face. “You haven’t gone in there yet, have you?”

But Lexa doesn’t respond. She just doesn’t know how to. Traces of tears begin to pool up in the corners of Lexa’s eyes. She blinks… and then again… and again… Anything to stop them from falling.

A momentary silence settles between the two of them as Lexa continues to furiously blink back her ever-growing emotions and then--

“C’mon,” Clarke says with a sudden new-found resolution to her voice. She gently reaches out and without any hesitation whatsoever, takes hold of Lexa’s hand, entwining their fingers together in the process. “We’ll do it together.”

Lexa looks down at their hands in sheer disbelief as an oddly foreign yet familiar sensation floods every inch of her being. One that up until this moment she had sworn she would never feel again in her lifetime.

It’s love.

“Okay, Clarke,” Lexa whispers back, voice cracking on the end of Clarke’s name.

Clarke gives Lexa a reassuring squeeze in return and then starts to guide them towards the doorway. “It won’t be as bad as you think.”

[ourshineeshrine]

My Number One Fan

Chapter 24 Pairing: JongKey Word Count: 4,401 Summary: Kibum goes to the same, run-down bar every week to watch the man of his affections sing his heart out with a mere guitar for company. He wasn’t expecting the coffee, nor the beautiful personality within the singer. And he definitely wasn’t expecting to fall in love.

A/N: Honestly I should die. I'm so, so, so, so sorry for depriving you all for this long. School this year has been a lot harder than I accounted for and I barely had a free moment...It's term break now, so I'm going to write until my fingers fall off! This chapter probably stinks but...I'll update soon! Please enjoy <3

As soon as Kibum turned the knob of the front door, it was as though a wave of cold, sea water had engulfed his entire body and left him shivering. Though his feelings were metaphorical, his goose bumps were not; and instinctively, his hand lifted to his throat, having difficulty swallowing in such a tense situation. A visible pathway was forged by a dim light shining in through the kitchen doorway, and Kibum reluctantly began to shuffle his way towards it.

Everything seemed unnaturally silent, not to say that it wasn’t usually silent, but Kibum felt more unease than he could ever recall feeling. Poking his head around the corner, Kibum gulped. His father sat tensed at the head of the dining table, seemingly glaring at a barely noticeable dent which lined the smooth surface. No newspaper sat before him and neither did Kibum’s mother. Kibum concluded she was in the bathroom and turned away, planning to make his way up to his bedroom before his father could find any reason whatsoever to tell him off.

But luck didn’t seem to be on Kibum’s side that evening, and a stern “Kibum,” sounded upon his first step backwards. “Get in here.”

Worrying his lower lip, Kibum took one last glance behind him as though searching for help before heading into the kitchen. He ignored his father’s glaring face and headed towards the pantry, scavenging around for just something to eat. “There’s never any good snacks in here.” he complained, a barely noticeable tremor in his voice as he reached over to boil the kettle. “Has mum been shopping recently?”

“Turn that off.” replied his father abruptly, and the man’s voice left no room for argument. With a gulp thick with anxiety, Kibum flicked the kettle off and closed the pantry door, hovering within the kitchen awkwardly.

Kibum finally met his father’s gaze, and at simply seeing those cool, merciless eyes, Kibum felt his blood run cold. “Is…Is everything okay?” he dared to ask.

But instead of receiving a normal response, his father merely frowned deeper, harsh lines marring his already calloused features. “No, actually. I’m not quite sure it is.”

“Really?” Kibum ran a nervous hand through his dark locks and held onto the kitchen bench as though it was a lifeline of sorts. He wanted to shut up, he really did. But his mouth began moving on its own account and he kept on talking, filling the air with nothing except for empty concerns. “What’s wrong?”

His father smiled, one void of joy, and shrugged. “I’m not sure…I was hoping you would have an idea.”

Kibum shuffled nonchalantly towards the doorframe, awkwardly shaking his head in response to his father. “Nope…Afraid I don’t. You’ll have to figure this one out on your own, I think.”

Mere centimetres separated him and the other room, and Kibum tasted the bliss of his warm, empty bedroom on the tip of his tongue. Just one more step and he would be able to breathe again—

“Sit down, boy!” his father exclaimed, slamming a fist against the wooden table. Along with his temper, the man’s voice had risen significantly.

And so within seconds Kibum was sitting across from the older man, knees shaking beneath the surface and each exhale accompanied by bouts of unadulterated fear. “I really don’t understand what’s wrong.” he muttered pathetically, eyes locked on one particular dot of discolouration adorning the wooden table.

“What’s wrong,” his father spoke, fingers practically curling around themselves in anger, “is the fact that I just saw you, my son, holding hands with another…another man. Ringing any bells now, Kibum?” Disgust accompanied every other word, and although he probably should have felt scared, instead something in Kibum suddenly snapped and he felt his gaze narrowing in sheer anger.

He could have replied with an excuse. Some sort of made up jargon about how they both wanted to share the leash but couldn’t make a decision about it. But instead, all the anger which had been building up within Kibum seemed to break, a dam releasing every negative thought that had ever accumulated about his father.

“Why the hell have you been stalking me, huh?!” Kibum blurted, standing from his seat to glare menacingly at the older man. He seethed. “Surely you’ve got better things to do than watch me all day, right? Get a fucking life, old man.”

His father’s voice was low, and when he stood, he seemed to simply loom over Kibum’s lithe frame. “Listen here, boy.” He spat. “You should be grateful I’m not kicking you out of the house after what you’ve done. Either you put a stop to this touchy business, or I will. Believe me, boy. I won’t have our neighbours going around thinking you’re some sort of faggot.”

Kibum felt his heart drop at the mere word, and the balloon storing his pent up confidence unexpectedly popped leaving the boy speechless. He wanted to fight back. Say something about how he didn’t care what people thought of him. But in fear and weakness, he didn’t, instead sinking pitifully again into the chair below. “It’ll stop.” he muttered brokenly. “It’s just friendly skin-ship anyway, but whatever. It’ll stop.”

With a harrumph, the man nodded in satisfaction and sat back across from Kibum. “Good. And I’m warning you Kibum, I’m being serious. If I see or hear anything else about you and that…that boy…then you’re out of here. Got it?”

He nodded vehemently, making sure to keep his gaze firmly away from the stern one which looked back at him.

Sunday soon arrived, which brought Minho slumped against Taemin’s bedroom wall, looking dejectedly at his worn soccer shoes. “She didn’t even glance at me today during practice, Taem. I thought that maybe I’d have some type of chance with getting with her but…I guess Kibum was right. She doesn’t seem to be looking for a relationship at all.”

Jealousy burned in Taemin’s chest, but he willed his personal feelings to go elsewhere while he comforted his best friend. “Don’t worry too much about it, Minho. You just seem really infatuated right now, so maybe let your mind settle for a bit. In a week’s time, if you still feel the same…Then that’s when you start worrying.”

Minho hummed.

“And to be fair,” Taemin continued, “you did only start liking her after that little kiss. So if you wanna get over her then why not…just go kiss someone else?”

Laughing, Minho shook his head. “It’s a good idea Taem, but I’m not quite sure it’s full proof. We’re not going to any parties soon which means there’s no one wants to kiss me—“

“Sorry?” interrupted Taemin with a scoff. “You reckon no one would wanna kiss you if they weren’t drunk? Wow. That’s rich.”

With a smirk, Minho looked over at Taemin who sat beside him and raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? Who do you propose would then, huh? Besides any of the girls in Amber’s group though ‘cause they’re all either taken or just plain boring.”

Taemin laughed as though Minho’s words were the funniest joke he had ever heard. “Um, literally everyone?” he drawled, softly muttering under his breath, “And not just the girls.”

“Huh?” choked Minho. “Kibum’s dating Jonghyun, Taemin, like hell he’d wanna kiss me!”

Groaning, the younger of the two buried his face into his hands. “Not Kibum, you dunce. There are probably other guys at our school who like guys, Minho. They just might not be open about it.”

Feeling sheepish, Minho scratched the back of his neck and grinned stupidly. “Does that mean you’re included then?” At the innocent question, Taemin’s eyes practically bugged out of his head and he found himself hacking loudly on nothing but air.

“For the last time, Minho, I’m not gay!”

Minho hummed again, this time a tad louder. “I know that, Taem. I’m just saying that you’ve showed interest in a guy before. And if everyone wants to kiss me, then why should you be excluded?” his voice had a light, joking tone to it, but Taemin felt as though every organ in his body was compressing in on itself.

‘I’m not.’ he thought dryly to himself, purposely avoiding eye contact with the older boy.

But Minho wasn’t shutting up, eyes creasing in amusement as he continued to prod and poke Taemin where unknowingly, it hit hard. “I should just kiss you! You can figure out if Kai was a fling or not and if I develop feelings for you…” Minho cackled loudly, his chuckles resembling those of a hyena. “Then I guess I could get over Amber, right?” The whole conversation was quite frankly, a joke, but gradually as Minho’s laughter increased, so did Taemin’s irritation.

As he made a move to interrupt however, Minho abruptly sobered, regarding Taemin with an air of seriousness. “Actually…that’s not a half bad idea.”

“Excuse me?”

“C’mon, Taem! It’s not as though it’ll mean anything anyway, right? Look, it’s a win-win situation. I get over Amber, you figure out your sexuality phase, everyone’s happy.”

Taemin, with hands clenched tightly by his sides, huffed and began to stand from his position on the carpeted floor. “Phase? Fuck off, Minho.”

Eyes widening in realization, Minho shook his head vehemently. “No, fuck, wait—No, that isn’t what I meant. C’mon Taem, you know I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Do I?”

“Yes! Taemin…Come on…I just meant that this whole revelation is relatively new and you are still tryna figure everything out. Not ‘phase’ as in it will go away, but ‘phase’ in in…a segment of your life. Why are you getting so defensive, anyway? It’s just a little kiss, it’s not like it means anything.”

It does though, you idiot. Taemin wanted to scream. It means everything.

“Well why are you so eager, huh?!” is what he said instead. “Got something to tell me, buddy?”

Minho rolled his eyes and laughed sarcastically. “Ha ha, Taem. Very funny. But seriously, if you didn’t want to you could have just said. It was just an idea…Constantly thinking about someone who doesn’t like you back isn’t very fun, y’know.”

What are you doing, you idiot?! Yelled his conscience in desperation. This is your one chance to finally make a move, and he won’t even suspect a thing!

Swallowing thickly, Taemin nodded. “F-Fine then...We’ll go with your plan – as inane as it is. After all, it means nothing, right?”

“Exactly!” grinned Minho, lifting off the floor and brushing down his clothes instinctively. “Man, Taemin, you’re seriously the coolest friend.”

‘How fucking stupid can he get?’ Taemin thought to himself with a snort. ‘Does he realise how gay this is?’ Rocking back and forth on his heels, the first year regarded Minho awkwardly. “Just so you know though…I have no idea how to go about this. I probably suck, considering how Kai reacted so just…Don’t expect much.”

Minho beamed, shaking his head in reassurance. “You’re adorable, Taemin…Don’t worry about, m’kay? It’ll be fine.”

“Alright…” he mumbled quietly, shuffling closer to Minho with cheeks as bright as rose. “You’re not gonna pull a Kai on me, I hope.”

Scoffing as though offended, Minho shook his head. “Do I look like that much of a douche? No, Taemin. Besides,” he grinned mischievously, and Taemin had to physically force himself to breathe so he wouldn’t start to hyperventilate. “I can’t punch myself for something that I started, right?”

Taemin’s throat went dry, and as Minho’s face neared his with that constant, carefree expression lingering there, the words he mechanically chanted in his head were the only thing keeping him from fainting then and there.

It means nothing, it means nothing, it means nothing.

His chest struggled to contain the heavy breaths which filled them, and Taemin unconsciously swiped his sweaty palms on the denim of his blue jeans. Legs wobbled from their place beneath his body, the warm breath from Minho’s lips doing nothing to calm the boy’s ever-building nervousness. This waiting, this anxiety. It was all too much for Taemin. So in a spout of foolish bravery and recklessness, he leaned forward, kissing the older boy square on the mouth before he even had the opportunity to protest.

And he expected a punch to the face, he really did. Even going so far as to tense his body in preparation for it. But, to Taemin’s astonishment, the punch never came. Instead, with what seemed like even more eagerness than Taemin himself possessed, Minho kissed him back, hands moving to Taemin’s barely noticeable biceps for support.

He fought down the desire to squeak and instead clenched his fists tightly from their position by his sides, dangling awkwardly as they struggled not to grab at the fabric of Minho’s shirt and pull him even closer. This was meant to be a test, Taemin reminded himself. It would certainly be strange if he came off as too enthusiastic.

But despite Taemin’s pessimistic thoughts on the matter, Minho was having none of it and pulled away chuckling softly. “I think this is only gonna work if you kiss back, Taem. No offence, but I feel like I’m kissing a brick wall.”

Immediate colour rose to Taemin’s cheeks, and in embarrassment, he stared intensely at the floor beneath them. “S-Sorry, Minho. I’m not very good at this stuff…”

Minho grinned reassuringly, eyes creasing in mirth. “Think of it as practice or something. So that when you start liking someone, you can woo them with your awesome skills.”

Many questions still flooded Taemin’s brain, such as ‘why the hell is Minho so eager to kiss me?’ and ‘why does this seem a lot gayer than intended?’ but he shook them off to pay attention to what Minho was actually trying to say. And Taemin’s eyes widened in startling realization because if he was being completely honest… it was something awfully intelligent. Instead of acting like some immobile potato sack because he’s too scared of ruining the moment, Taemin should be taking advantage of Minho’s naivety instead and try to win the older boy over. Because if he could do anything to prevent Minho from going back to the awfully experienced Amber, then it was that.

Taemin nodded and raised his head marginally so that his eyes met Minho’s. The older male’s gaze was warm and kind, black eyes which seemed to simply sparkle golden when they fell upon Taemin’s lighter ones. And they reminded Taemin of everything – the day they met, their times in the dance studio, Minho protecting him and most of all, why he was falling in love.

It was with those thoughts that Taemin placed his doubts to the side and simply focused on the present, where the boy he liked genuinely wanted to kiss him despite the odd reasons why. “Alright…” he mumbled softly to himself, straightening up and swallowing thickly in anxiousness.

It’s now or never.

“Ready to try again?” Minho spoke gently, an eyebrow raising in curiosity.

A smile graced Taemin’s features, and he lifted a hand to grasp slightly at the t-shirt over Minho’s chest. “Yeah.”

And they were kissing again, similar yet so different from the time before. Minho’s hands remained by Taemin’s shoulders, but as the younger boy tugged at Minho’s shirt with a sudden bout of fervour he lacked the time prior, Minho found himself squeaking embarrassedly in shock. However despite his initial surprise, Minho soon found himself entranced by their kiss, fingers moving to weave through Taemin’s hair without a care in the world. Minho simply ignored his hazy mind and tumbling stomach, satisfied that his idea was actually working. Because with Taemin’s lips on his and the soft feeling of his hair against Minho’s hands, Amber didn’t even seem to exist, a mere memory that Minho was happy to dispose of.

Confidence had begun to flood through Taemin’s veins, and in a brave move of desire and perhaps desperation, he slipped his tongue through Minho’s lips in curiosity and bated his breath. But upon noticing that the gesture was immediately reciprocated, it seemed that the young dancer had nothing to fear, and instead focused on the situation at hand. His heart flamed with content, a quirk of the lips decorating his face as Minho’s nose nudged his.

He shouldn’t have. He really shouldn’t have. Yet as Minho’s hands tugged at his hair once again to deepen the kiss, and before Taemin could even comprehend his own actions, he found himself humming loudly in satisfaction – a small sound that left Minho freezing on the spot. Taemin paused and held his breath, not allowing his disappointment to show when Minho pulled away with wide eyes.

Minho stepped back tentatively, keeping his stunned gaze locked on Taemin’s. “R-Right…” he began, voice breaking slightly as he spoke. “Well um…Thanks Taemin…I-I think I have to go now though, alright? Luna’s p-probably worried.”

Blinking, Taemin nodded dazedly. “Okay…See ya then, I guess.”

Reassuringly, Minho flashed Taemin a grin, albeit a bit shaky. “You um…helped a lot, so um…yeah. Thanks, Taem. I-I’ll catch you later.”

And then Minho was gone, grabbing his jacket off the bed before practically sprinting downstairs, shouting a quick goodbye to Taemin’s parents before hopping into his car and speeding away. His breathing came erratically, and Minho ran a shaky hand through his hair in an attempt to calm himself down.

“What the fuck just happened…” he muttered to himself, biting his lip consciously as he thought back on the event which had just occurred.

He wasn’t meant to enjoy it that much. His heart wasn’t meant to be beating that quickly. His cheeks weren’t meant to be that red. And most of all, he wasn’t meant to be thinking about his best friend in the way that he currently was.

“No, no, no, no! Fuck, no.” he ranted, grip tightening menacingly on the wheel. “I’m just messed up in the head right now. I’m just unconsciously thinking about Amber. I’m just…I’m just—“ Minho slammed the brakes upon pulling into his driveway and dropped his head onto the steering wheel in panic.  

Minho knew he hadn’t been thinking about Amber. He knew that very well.

‘What the fuck was I thinking, suggesting something like that? Am I that stupid?’

Double checking that the windows were closed, Minho screamed loudly into his open palms. It wouldn’t have mattered if it were anyone else. But Taemin was his best friend. And when Minho’s mind replayed that kiss for the umpteenth time, causing him to feel things he knew he shouldn’t feel, Minho concluded that he had screwed up. Royally.

Minutes passed before Minho finally worked up the motivation to head inside, slumping onto the couch and burying his face into a nearby cushion.

“Minho, honey…What’s wrong?” came the worried voice of Luna, and Minho felt himself immediately relaxing at the warm tone. “Did something happen?”

“’M fine.” He mumbled, but the tremor in his voice told her otherwise.

He heard Luna sigh loudly before the couch sunk marginally with her added weight. “C’mon now, Minho. What’s happened?”

Begrudgingly, the tall boy rolled over, regarding his sister figure with a prickling behind his eyes. “Just something with Taemin.”

“Did you have a fight?” she asked softly.

Minho shook his head furiously. “No…I just—did something I shouldn’t have. But um, Luna? I don’t really feel like talking about it right now, if that’s alright?”

Luna smiled and sifted a hand through Minho’s dark brown locks. “That’s more than alright, buddy. But stop worrying too much about it, okay? Everything will turn out just fine, you wait and see. You usually make good decisions, Minho. So don’t be too harsh on yourself. Now…What did you want for dinner? Not chicken, I’m assuming? It’s finally our day off.”

The soccer player laughed loudly at that, glad that Luna had succeeded in cheering him up. He nodded in agreement. “Definitely not chicken.”

That same night brought Kibum and Jonghyun back to the bar, where somehow Kibum had convinced his parents to even let him out of the house. It had been a struggle, Kibum recalled with a slight grimace. His father seemed to shudder at every mention of Jonghyun, and although usually Kibum’s lying skills were easily above average, this time around there seemed to be a sort of added pressure.

Like usual, he’d gone with the alibi that he was working on the project with Amber, and although sceptical, his parents were relieved at the prospect of him hanging out with a girl rather than a boy. He’d held out for a long time, but apparently to Kibum, not long enough. He was still at school, living at home, without a job, and his parents had already begun to suspect that something was amiss. Part of him would like to profusely deny those accusations directed at him – the negative connotations which came with being a sexuality other than straight. But the other part, the majority, strongly disagreed. He wanted to hold Jonghyun’s hand in public whenever he felt like it. He wanted to openly flirt, and kiss, and properly introduce him to his parents. And so he denied nothing.

But as Jonghyun’s hand came to rest on his waist that Sunday night, it was the former section of Kibum’s mind that resulted in him flinching suddenly away. “Not here, Jonghyun.” he spoke, voice more forceful and angry than he’d expected.

Carefully, Jonghyun pulled his hand away and left it to hang by his side, face contorting into something less than joyful. His eyebrows and lips seemed to quiver, as though trying to force an understanding smile, but it wasn’t hard to notice that Jonghyun was in fact hurt by Kibum’s words. “A-Alright…” he muttered, fingers playing awkwardly with the hem of his shirt. “Anyway…I better go get ready so…cheer for me, okay?”

Kibum nodded, a smile still failing to grace his worn out features. Jonghyun sang like usual, albeit perhaps a little more shaky, and while Kibum probably should have felt guilty, his current mood couldn’t bring it within himself to care. And afterwards, when Kibum met with Jonghyun backstage, he found himself turning his head away when the older male leaned in for a kiss.

“Someone could see us.” he mumbled, but he knew as well as Jonghyun that the only people who could possibly see them back here was Jinki, Luna and on the occasion, Minho.

Jonghyun blinked and looking like a kicked puppy, stepped back an inch. “Kibum…we’re the only ones here.” he spoke softly, concerned.

“Just no, okay? You never know for sure.” Every word was another punch to the face, and Jonghyun stared hopelessly at the guitar in his arms.

He nodded to himself, presumably in reassurance. “Right, yeah, of course. Sorry, Kibum, I’m being reckless. I’ll drive you home, okay?”

Kibum sighed and ran a weary hand through his hair. “I’m gonna walk home tonight, Jjong. But we’ll see each other again soon, so don’t worry too much.”

“Don’t worry? Kibum, I don’t want you walking home alone at this time of night. It’s just a quick drive…”

“Jonghyun, I walked home fine by myself before we met, so stop stressing. I’ll text you when I get home, okay? See you later, babe.” Kibum gently patted Jonghyun’s shoulder in farewell before turning away to head outside, leaving Jonghyun to merely stare after him in hurt and confusion.

He slumped down into a nearby chair and exhaled loudly, refusing to meet Jinki’s gaze which regarded him with sympathy. “If it makes you feel any better,” his best friend began, taking a seat beside Jonghyun. “Minho was acting a little weird when he got home from a friend’s house today. Maybe he’s just upset because of something else. At school or something? It probably doesn’t even concern you.”

With a loud sigh, Jonghyun nodded. “Yeah, maybe. Anyway, Jinki. I might head home for the night. Catch up soon, yeah?”

“’Course, Jonghyun. See ya later, buddy!”

“See you, Jinki!”

The night air was flush against Kibum’s face, and while half of him regretted not accepting Jonghyun’s offer for a ride home, the better half of him knew that it would only cause more trouble. He breathed into his palms and rubbed them together to stay warm, the gravelly cobbled path beneath him crunching under his feet. The torn look upon Jonghyun’s face had been hard to ignore, but although it was hurting the older boy, in the long run, Kibum knew it was for the best. Besides, it was just in public where Kibum was cautious of affectionate behaviour. In private, Jonghyun could be as touchy and as cuddly as he liked, and nobody would be able to stop them.

Well, at least that’s what Kibum thought…until he got home.

“Kibum.” His father had said sternly. “Your mother and I have been talking, and we’ve decided to ground you for the rest of the school year.”

Kibum blanched and looked at his father in fury. Had he heard right? “Are you kidding me?! What have I done this time?”

The man narrowed his gaze. “What we discussed on Friday…I’m serious about it, Kibum. I don’t want you and that Jonghyun boy interacting any more than you have to. The only time you’re allowed out of the house is for school. Is that clear, boy?”

“W-What about my project?! Or socializing on the weekends?” Kibum cried, feeling his heart sink to the bottom of his stomach at how dismissive he’d been towards Jonghyun. God knows how long it would be before they could see each other again.

“We have no problems with Amber coming here for the project. Your mother seems to think that we should let Jonghyun over too on the occasion, but don’t make me repeat myself, Kibum. If he so as much touches your arm, then he’s out of here for good. And you go to the same god damn school. Stop acting as though we’re depriving you.”

Kibum wanted to cry. They didn’t go to the same school. And Jonghyun certainly couldn’t go even a mere two minutes without touching Kibum, whether it be on his arm or waist or cheek. But at seeing his father’s cruel face looking back at him, Kibum could only nod pathetically, before promptly heading up to his room to sob.  

It was going to be a long rest of the school year.

[news-mashable-yahoopartner-blog]

The best swimwear if you want to throw gender norms in the trash

Going to the beach and picking out a hot swimsuit are some of the greatest pleasures summer has to offer �� for approximately .00000001% of the general population.

Unless you're, say, a hairless Justin Bieber, nothing is more torturous than buying a new swimsuit. You've got to find something that remains *on trend* and accentuates your butt *just right* but if you text one more anxious changing room selfie to your roommate, she will take her things and leave. 

And while the pressure is on for everybody, it's particularly acute for the queer, trans and non-binary community, whose swimwear options are woefully limited, though growing.

SEE ALSO: All the characters in 'Beauty and the Beast' who were probably gay all along

Slowly — and I emphasize that with as many sarcastic eye rolls as the human eye can safely muster — independent designers have stepped up to the plate with gender-inclusive designs. Stylists now offer tangible advice for people don't fit the traditional gender binary (as well as those who do and just hate the word "tankini").

There is, technically, a growing catalogue of gender-inclusive swimwear options out there, you've just got to know where to look.

When the beach is something to fear

The classic beach scene in 'Paris is Burning'

Image: Miramax

More than any other genre of clothing, swimwear exposes people's gender presentations for the public to catalogue and so often, shame.  

Sonny Oram is the founder of Qwear, a style website for folks who don't fit the heteronormative mold and face erasure. For Oram, the beach is a particularly vulnerable environment for this community.

"I think there's a lot of anxiety around it, and that anxiety is grounded in reality," Oram said. "When you're trans, it's hard to be stealth wearing swimwear . . . Even if you try and cover up, you're drawing attention to yourself." 

Forget what you've heard about the fashion industry's "gender-bending" — most mainstream brands remain as anachronistic as ever. If you're non-binary and like to wear feminine swimwear that isn't particularly sexualized, you will have to Google harder than you've ever Googled before. If you're a cis woman with hips who wants to be topless and wear boy shorts, good luck. 

"Think of the double standards. People with male nipples can show their nipples, people with female nipple cannot," Oram said. "In the ideal world, we wouldn't have to ascribe to these laws."

Brands are slowly catching up to culture — but to find them, you have to look outside the mainstream.

A handful of brands are stepping up to the plate

Clover Crisis for Rebirth Garments

Image: Grace duval

When Sky Cubacub founded Rebirth Garments, they had a depressingly uphill mission: to provide affordable swimwear, daywear, and lingerie for people of all gender identities and body types, including folks with disabilities.

So Cubacub chose to reclaim one the most scorned materials on earth, Spandex, and turn it until a whole fashion line. Say what you will about spandex, but it can stretch to fit nearly every body, and it easily doubles as daywear and swimwear.

"It just allows for your body to change a little bit more," Cubacub said. "I never have sizing on anything, people just send me their measurements. All that sizing stuff, it's just constructed to make people feel bad."

Ali Scott for Rebirth Garments

Image: Grace duval

Their tailoring attempts to be specific to customer needs. For trans women and non-binary folks who want to tuck, Sky tailors unique underwear or designs an attachable skirt. They use Powernet, a compression material, for people who want to bind their chest or any other part of their bodies.

Most important, Sky uses color. Imagine an early '90s fannypak turned into an entire clothing line.

"My style is radically visible" — Sky Cubacub

Image: Kendall Jolley for Rebirth Garments, photograph by Grace duval

For folks who like a slightly more muted palette, there's Outplay, a "company without a gender." The company provides fun swimwear basics without any gender assignations, and a range of areas of coverage.

A post shared by Outplay (@out_play) on Jun 10, 2016 at 2:20pm PDT

A post shared by Outplay (@out_play) on Sep 10, 2016 at 8:57am PDT

Beefcake Swimwear, which just passed its Kickstarter fundraising goal, operates on the same gender-busting principles as Out Playwear with a few more twists. Beefcake suits are modeled after androgynous swimsuits from the 1920s, and come with optional bra shelfs for people who need 'em and people who just don't. 

Since the photos are always b/w, it surprised me how colorful swimsuits from the 1920s really are. Haven't even launched and I'm dreaming about future designs for Beefcake swimsuits... 🙃🤓 . . . . . . . #onestepatatime #beefcake #tomboystyle #tomboy #tomboyswimwear #androgynousstyle #queerstyle #unisexswim #genderneutral #genderneutralfashion #vintageswimwear #1920sswimwear

A post shared by Beefcake Swimwear (@beefcakeswimwear) on Feb 28, 2017 at 12:51pm PST

On the slighter higher end of things, there's Chromat, a body-positive, queer-inclusive brand that emerged in 2015 and provides swimwear for people with all kinds of gender presentations. 

Image: chromat

Chromat likes to imagine "structural experiments for the human body." Designs are super colorful and architectural, and play with traditional gender norms: a zip-crop rashguard top paired with a more conventional bikini bottom, or the one-piece bathing suit that comes with a mockneck.

Image: chromat

Image: chromat

The brand isn't cheap — the contour rashguard suit retails for $238, for example — but at least it provides some kind of model for mainstream fashion brands, who have a legacy they can build on when they finally wake up and decide to pay attention to this ridiculously neglected market. 

So  . . . what do you do if you're broke?

When the average cost of women's bathing suit is $100 or more, sometimes DIY is simply the best option. Angie Chuang, an NYC-based designer who designs genderfluid high-end streetwear, struggles to find swimwear and has learned how to just improvise.

"Most of the time I’ll wear a bikini top and a muscle shirt or tank top over it and a pair of boarding shorts and call it a day," Chuang said. "I would be thrilled if there were more androgynous selections. It’s possible — we’d have to create new swimwear with different design lines and silhouettes." 

Oram agrees. For folks who prefer more traditionally masculine styles, Oram recommends boardshorts, or improvising a little with standard athletic gear:

"If you have any type of athletic shorts, those can just work as board shorts. Some folks who are packing may want to wear underwear. On top, you can wear a sports bra or a binder and a shirt over that. It's not ideal but it works . . .  Swimwear is a challenge because it's not manufactured with non-binary queer and trans bodies in mind."

Image: cassandra zetta via qwear

Image: cassandra zetta via qwear

For folks on the more feminine side of the spectrum, options are a little more limited. Mesh athletic gear easily doubles as a swimsuit. There are women's versions of boardshorts for people who want a little more coverage. 

Still, DIY can be tricky for the amateur — and it'd be great if the industry finally stepped up and did it for us. 

Brands: Are you listening?

Image: Carrie K, sky cubacub/photo by hole boss

For all the conversation about how contemporary fashion "gender bends" (what exactly does that word mean?), most gender-neutral fashion appears to live exclusively on the runway as a concept. It hasn't trickled down to most mainstream retail stores, where people can make it a part of their everyday life. 

It's a safe, bland move for brands, who get the credit for being "inclusive," without actually having to put into action. 

"I guess they [mainstream brands] think it's profitable. People make separate clothes for men and women, but so many of our clothes don't need to be separate," Oram said. "And I know so many consumers who don’t want that. It's not limited to the queer community! Brands need to take a broader range of bodies — trans folks, people of all sizes — into consideration."

If the industry really wants to pay attention, they'll have a hungry market. Nearly 150,000 American teens identify as transgender. Millennials are now the "gayest generation." And there are thousands more who don't identify anywhere on the LGBTQ spectrum, but still don't feel comfortable in strictly binary bathing suits. 

All anyone wants is the freedom to go to the beach and not feel horrible. It shouldn't have to be this hard. 

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