#i think this counts as a vent so i'll tag it as that just in case fhdsjkl

[doubleedgemode]

super shitty mspaint doodle to check if I still got it in regards to drawing with just a mouse. The answer is no, and my hand hurts.

She started to run out of hair dye.

[sysig]

Your Weekly TV Guide

On Monday you can expect:

2:30 PM: Star Control II - Princess

And Tuesday:

2:30 PM: SCII - Pirates

Wednesday:

2:30 PM: SCII - Pirates

Thursday:

2:30 PM: SCII - Pirates

Friday:

2:30 PM: SCII - Pirates

Saturday:

2:30 PM: SCII (&fic!)

Sunday:

2:30 PM: Requestober Day 1!

Thanks for tuning in! (Patreon)

[wyndigo-reblogs]

I got distracted lol

[dandyshucks]

i think the issue with me making those polaroids is now i feel like the bar is SO HIGH for myself. listen to me. i am putting my hands on ur shoulders and staring at you. (or more likely sitting several feet away counting tiles on the floor while i speak bc eye contact is uncomfortable and numbers are soothing HFDSJGKL.) i am a mediocre artist i promise. i dont know what happened with those polaroids but i have to go look at the timelapses sometimes to convince myself i didnt somehow conjure those up out of thin air. also theres mistakes even in those art pieces but thats not rly here nor there.

genuinely though most of my art comes out looking mediocre at BEST and only every now and then i get smth i feel like is good enough for sharing dsfjkl u have no idea how many times i have erased eye lines over and over and over again to try to get it to look even halfway right 😭 trying to draw matching eyes is my arch nemesis of the art world alongside hands

[botboots]

Saw that your requests were open so what about TFP cons with an adorkable teen human reader? A really close friend (the emotional support bundle of joy™) that is really artistic, kind, understanding and just a pure cinnamon roll, what would be the bots reaction to the lil' human? Optimus, Ratchet,Bulkhead, Arcee, BB, and if you do the kids then the kids. If not the other bots, stay safe!

im back!! so sorry for the long ass wait, had so much going on in my life recently (graduating, going back home, etc.) but hopefully i'll be back to posting somewhat regularly! tysm for the continuous support :] love seeing the notifs pop up every day this is one of the first asks in my inbox (and i completely forgot that the prompt said reader was part of the cons... whoops) and i've wanted to get it done for a while now! have so many more to get through but will get them done eventually - this isn't the best but its cute <3 and you can 100% tell who my favs are lmao warnings: none word count: 939 (GN reader)

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

Optimus:

he finds your outlook on things is a nice change of pace compared to the more pessimistic views that some members of the team can have at times

values your compassion greatly, often turning to you as a confidant over the time you’ve gotten to know each other. a mission went wrong and he’s putting all the blame on himself? you’re there to reassure him in a heartbeat, reminding him that he did his best and there’s always another chance; you keep him grounded

has an innate interest in art and writing - he used to be an archivist, after all

so he enjoys watching you indulge in your hobby, your excitement about it reminds him of his younger years of being a clerk at iacon when he would become giddy over a newfound archaic text

he’s very fond of you and makes sure you know it, taking note of the small things you like and getting you whatever little gift he can manage to find - genuinely thinks you’re cute and likes seeing you happy :] 

Ratchet:

while it may have taken him a little longer than the others to warm up to you fully, he grew to start looking forward to your company (despite his his best efforts to hide it)

he appreciates your quiet company; you’re much less rambunctious than both the other humans and his own team - you complain a lot less too, probably one of his favorite qualities about you

like optimus, your bubbly attitude gives him a much needed break from the dreary duties that come with being the autobot medic

you often find yourselves working in tandem, with you sitting on the couch working on your newest project while he stands at his terminal typing away. occasionally you’ll walk over with a nervous smile, and with a roll of his optics he’ll lower a servo for you to climb into and lift you up onto the corner of the console, huffing when you chirp a thank you before the both of you quietly return to your tasks (he enjoys it, really)

while he’s not one to vent his frustrations to you, he’ll always be open to listen to you vent about yours. even if he doesn’t respond with much, he’ll offer logical solutions and observations for whatever issue you’re having

Bulkhead:

the big guy loves art, having been exposed to his fair share of it by miko, and is very encouraging when it comes to your projects

he might not get some of the nuances or meanings of the things you make, but he tries - oftentimes making you laugh a bit at the sheer amount he misses. it’s endearing though, and you appreciate the effort

too fidgety to sit and watch you do anything for too long, but he’ll offer to drive you to a vista for some inspiration while he does his usual scouting routes, miko tagging along of course. she’ll probably bring her sketchbook with her and sit next to you and draw, chattering the entire time while blasting some music from her ipod, offering you one of her earbuds

Arcee:

similar to ratchet she takes a while to get used to you, a little cold at first to your attempts at friendliness

she notices how happy you seem to make everyone else and eventually makes a legitimate pass at being friendly despite how awkward it feels

but with how eagerly you accept it she doesn’t feel as bad, sighing in relief as you immediately start filling her in on how much you’ve enjoyed your time with the autobots

she’s not much of a conversationalist (especially when it comes to humans) so your chattiness is almost a relief - not having to keep up fake interest and energy with someone puts her in a more comfortable position; especially since you’re not one to comment on it like others tend to

will sit and watch you work on whatever your newest project is, a comfortable silence shared between the two of you

rambles about random stuff from her past sometimes - you turn out to be one of the few people she trusts enough to mindlessly dump her thoughts to, both good and bad

Bumblebee:

one of the first to get to know you, overly excited about having a fresh face around

super curious when he sees you working on something, a barrage of questions translated from mechanical chirps and whirrs with the help (and annoyance) of ratchet

he’ll actually try and mimic some of your art on the walls of hidden ditches where he and rafael hang out, excitedly bringing you along to show off his latest work and buzzing happily when you praise it

will eventually, with your encouragement, try and make something original - he ends up finding it pretty soothing and an easier way to feel understood; communicating his feelings without words can be unsurprisingly helpful for someone who can’t use any of his own

you’ll spend hours hanging out and working on your stuff - he likes when you help him with his own art, adding your own brushstrokes to the concrete wall

he’ll let you sit up on his shoulder just to watch him make whatever he feels like making, or even just taking you on joyrides in the desert where he doesnt need to worry about anything going wrong

while it’s usually you, him and raf hanging out he does enjoy spending solo time with you - usually in silence or one-sided conversations, but you understand each other well enough without words

will also figure out what your favorite songs are and surprise you with them; he loves when you get all giddy about literally anything

[writingforstraykids]

Ready, pretty?

Pairing: Minchan

Word Count: 2564

Summary: One night, after sharing a few drinks, Minho feels safe enough to overshare a little, thinking Chan is too drunk to remember the next day. He doesn't know that Chan remembers every word and is more than willing to help him with his little issue.

Warnings/Tags: fluff, late-night confessions, drunk confessions, friends to lovers (sort of), virgin!min, first time

A/N: Oh well, another audio that rotted azzy's and my brain😂 Based on this audio by my dear miu, hope you like it love @slutforchanlix 🖤

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©writingforstraykids 2024-

Minho and Chan found a quiet spot away from the bustling crowd at the party, nestled under the comforting canopy of a sprawling tree. A soft blanket spread beneath them provided a makeshift sanctuary from the noise and distractions. The night sky above them was a tapestry of stars, twinkling faintly amidst the velvet darkness.

They sat side by side, shoulders brushing occasionally as they sipped from their drinks, the clinking of glasses a gentle background to their conversation. Minho, already feeling a bit lightheaded from the alcohol, couldn't help but notice Chan's relaxed demeanor and chuckled inwardly, convinced his friend was also a few drinks past sobriety.

"You look like you're in another world, Channie hyung," Minho teased lightly, nudging him playfully. "What's on your mind?"

Chan chuckled, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. "Just enjoying the peace, I guess. It's rare to have moments like this."

"Yeah," Minho agreed, taking another sip. "Life's been hectic lately, huh?"

Chan nodded, his gaze drifting upwards towards the stars. "Tell me about it. Sometimes I just need to escape from all the noise and expectations."

Minho nodded sympathetically, feeling a wave of empathy wash over him. "I get that. So, how do you relax best, then?"

“There's only been one thing that actually helped lately,” Chan grinned mischievously, a glint in his eyes as he glanced at Minho. "By relieving some tension…you know?"

Minho snorted, caught off guard by the unexpected response. He leaned his head on Chan's shoulder, his own laughter bubbling up. "I should've guessed."

Chan chuckled, patting Minho's knee affectionately. "You're not too bad at it yourself, Minho."

“What's that supposed to mean?” he asked with a snort.

“Your room's right below mine, I'm insomniac, so no, not everyone's asleep when you touch yourself,” he told him, taking another sip. “You're not exactly quiet sometimes and the vent carries it all the way up.”

“Oh,” he whispered, making Chan laugh. “Can't help it sometimes,” he said.

“Yeah, I get that,” Chan agreed, smirking to himself. There hasn't only been one time when Minho's soft moans and quiet whimpers kept him up, too sweet of a symphony to ignore.

Feeling emboldened by the alcohol and the already happening oversharing, Minho decided to share a bit more than he probably should have. "Yeah, well, I tried my fingers once, but it didn't feel nice. I didn't really know what I was doing, so I gave that up again."

Chan burst into laughter, the sound echoing softly in the quiet night. "Noted," he managed between laughs, shaking his head fondly at Minho's confession. Yeah, he'd remember that.

Realizing what he had just admitted, Minho blushed furiously, hoping the darkness hid his embarrassment. "Just don't tell anyone."

Chan sobered slightly, a warm smile on his face as he nudged Minho gently. "Hey, I'll keep your secrets safe, don't worry."

Minho hummed softly before glancing at Chan. “Did you ever try it?” 

“Yeah, a few times,” Chan nodded, seemingly unfazed. 

“Any…any advice?” he asked, ears burning up.

“Well, you should be able to relax, give yourself time and don't get too eager too fast. Also use enough lube and be careful so you don't hurt yourself,” he told him.

Grateful for Chan's understanding, Minho shifted the topic to something less potentially embarrassing. "Speaking of secrets, what do you think of our new album? You excited about it?"

Chan's eyes lit up with enthusiasm, his earlier humor returning. "Definitely. Also, you've been working so hard on those English lines, Minho. I'm impressed."

Minho pouted playfully, leaning back against the tree trunk. "I get tired of them sometimes, you know?"

Chan nodded sympathetically. "I can imagine. But seriously, you sound amazing singing them. Fans are gonna love it."

A small smile tugged at Minho's lips, grateful for Chan's praise. "Thanks, Channie. Means a lot coming from you."

They fell into a comfortable silence, content to simply be in each other's company, enjoying the tranquility of the moment. The night breeze rustled the leaves above them, a gentle reminder of the world beyond their secluded spot. For Minho and Chan, this brief respite from the demands of their careers was a precious gift—a chance to unwind, to share laughter and confessions under the starlit sky.

As the party's noise gradually seeped back into their awareness, they exchanged a knowing glance, both silently agreeing to cherish this memory. With a final clink of their glasses, they toasted to friendship, to music, and to the simple joy of finding peace beneath the stars.

-

After a tiring and long day at the company, Chan and Minho finally collapsed onto Chan's bed, the soft mattress providing a welcomed respite from their demanding schedules. They had stayed longer than the others, Chan meticulously fine-tuning tracks for their upcoming album and Minho patiently walking him through the new choreography after.

Chan couldn't help but notice Minho's restlessness as they settled in. The room was bathed in a gentle lilac hue, casting a serene glow that accentuated Minho's features. He looked almost ethereal in that light, but Chan sensed a tension in him that hadn't dissipated since earlier.

"You alright, Minho?" Chan asked softly, his concern evident as he propped himself up on one elbow to look at his friend.

Minho sighed, running a hand through his hair before meeting Chan's gaze. "Yeah, just... I don't know. Can't seem to relax tonight…Long day."

Chan nodded understandingly, his eyes scanning Minho's face with a mixture of affection and curiosity. "Ever wish someone could help you with that? Release some tension after a long day?"

Minho's breath caught slightly at Chan's question, his heart beating a little faster as he processed the implication behind those words. He searched Chan's eyes for a long moment, finding sincerity and a hint of something more—something he had quietly wondered about but never dared to voice.

"Yeah," Minho admitted quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I do."

Chan's expression softened, a gentle smile playing on his lips as he remembered their conversation from a few nights ago—the one where Minho had confessed his clumsy attempt at doing just that. "Remember when you told me about trying with your fingers? Didn't quite like it?"

Minho blushed deeply, embarrassed that Chan remembered and seemed unfazed by his earlier awkwardness. "Yeah," he murmured, unable to meet Chan's gaze directly. “I took your advice but it doesn't feel as good as Felix and Jisung said it would.”

Chan chuckled softly, reaching out to gently tuck a strand of hair behind Minho's ear. "It's okay, Minho. You can tell me what you need. That's what I'm here for, yeah?”

Minho swallowed nervously, his heart racing as he leaned closer to Chan, their faces now only inches apart. "I... I need..." He hesitated, unsure if he could voice his desires aloud.

Chan's hand found Minho's, fingers intertwining in a silent gesture of reassurance. "You can trust me, Min. Whatever it is."

With a shaky breath, Minho closed the gap between them, pressing his lips tentatively against Chan's. The kiss was hesitant at first, a mixture of nerves and longing, but soon it deepened, fueled by months of unspoken attraction and the intimacy of their shared moments.

Chan responded eagerly, pulling Minho closer until their bodies were flush against each other. The room seemed to fade away, leaving only the soft sound of their breaths mingling and the gentle rustling of sheets beneath them.

As they broke apart for air, Chan brushed his thumb over Minho's cheek, his eyes filled with tenderness. "I've wanted this, Minho," he confessed softly. "More than I've let myself admit."

Minho smiled shyly, a weight lifted off his shoulders now that his feelings were out in the open. "Me too," he admitted, his voice filled with a mix of relief and joy.

“Can I take care of you?” Chan asked softly and Minho's breath hitched.

“Please,” he nodded gently, rolling onto his back and glancing up at Chan as he sat up. Minho watched him as he gently pushed his legs apart and got seated between them, gently rubbing up his thighs. 

“Want me show you how good it can feel?” he asked and Minho bit his lower lip, nodding quickly. Chan reached into the drawer of his bedside table and pulled out a bottle of lube. 

As Chan settled back between Minho's legs, he held up the bottle of lube with a reassuring smile. Minho's heart raced with anticipation, his body tingling in anticipation of Chan's touch. The soft lilac light cast a gentle glow over them, adding to the intimate atmosphere.

Chan leaned down to kiss Minho softly, their lips meeting in a tender exchange that conveyed both desire and tenderness. Breaking the kiss, Chan whispered against Minho's lips, "Relax, Min. I've got you." Minho hummed softly in response. “May I?” he asked gently, waiting for a nod before removing his pants and boxers.

Minho blushed softly at Chan's admiring expression, feeling a little exposed. “Channie,” he whined softly.

Chan giggled softly. “Ready, pretty?”

Minho nodded, his breath coming in shallow gasps as Chan squeezed a generous amount of lube onto his fingers. He gently trailed his fingertips down Minho's thighs, causing him to shiver at the sensation. Chan's touch was gentle and deliberate, each movement aimed at building trust and pleasure.

"Let me know if anything feels uncomfortable," Chan murmured, his voice a soothing presence in the quiet room.

Minho nodded again, his eyes locked on Chan's as he slowly began to circle his fingers around Minho's entrance. He applied light pressure, testing Minho's response before gradually easing a finger inside. Minho gasped at the initial intrusion, but Chan didn't move further until he felt Minho relax around him.

"That's it," Chan encouraged softly, his other hand stroking Minho's thigh in a comforting gesture. He continued to move his finger in and out slowly, allowing Minho to adjust to the sensation.

As Minho relaxed further, Chan added a second finger, stretching him carefully and watching closely for any signs of discomfort. Minho's breath hitched, but he didn't flinch away. Instead, he arched his back slightly, silently asking for more.

Minho was a little overwhelmed by how good it felt, panting softly at the feeling. A shaky moan escaped him and he quickly bit his lip, not wanting to fall apart right there during the first time someone touched him.

"You're doing great, Min," Chan praised, his voice filled with admiration and desire. He curled his fingers inside, searching for that spot that would make Minho gasp and moan.

The pleasure began to build, Minho's body responding eagerly to Chan's touch. Chan moved his fingers in a rhythm that was both tender and insistent, coaxing soft sounds of pleasure from Minho's lips. Each movement sent waves of pleasure through Minho's body, heightening his arousal with every stroke.

"Chan..." Minho whispered, his voice strained with need. He reached for Chan's hand, urging him to go deeper, to give him more.

Chan complied, adding a third finger carefully and gauging Minho's reaction. Minho tensed briefly, but as Chan massaged that sensitive spot inside him, pleasure quickly replaced any discomfort. Chan's fingers moved with practiced skill, pushing Minho closer to the edge of ecstasy. Minho's head fell back, jaw growing slack as Chan lovingly worked his prostate. “Oh shit,” he whispered.

Feeling Minho's body respond eagerly, Chan leaned down to kiss him again, their mouths melding in a desperate, passionate kiss. Minho whimpered into Chan's mouth, his hips lifting off the bed to meet Chan's movements.

"Channie hyung," Minho gasped when they finally parted for air, his voice raw with desire.

“I'm here,” Chan whispered gently. “What do you need, baby?”

Minho moaned softly. “Need more, please. Can you - I'm…I never did that before,” he admitted, ears burning up fiercely.

Chan soothingly rubbed his thigh. “Are you sure you want it to be me?” he asked gently, searching his eyes observantly. 

“Please,” Minho nodded, vulnerability lacing his features. “I trust you.”

Chan nodded, his own arousal evident as he reached for a condom and quickly prepared himself. He positioned himself between Minho's legs, gazing down at him with a mix of tenderness and hunger.

"You're sure?" Chan asked softly, seeking Minho's consent.

Minho nodded eagerly, his eyes locked with Chan's as he guided himself into Minho's heat. Chan took his time, making sure to give Minho enough room to adjust to the feeling. They both groaned at the sensation of being joined so intimately, their bodies moving together in a rhythm that spoke of longing and mutual need.

With each careful thrust, Chan focused on Minho's reactions, ensuring he moved at a pace that allowed Minho to adjust and enjoy every moment. Minho's soft moans and gasps filled the room, driving Chan further into a state of controlled desire. He kept one hand firmly planted beside Minho's head for support while the other stroked gently at Minho's cheek.

Minho's body responded eagerly, meeting Chan's movements with an increasing urgency that mirrored Chan's own rising desire. Their eyes locked in a silent conversation of trust and need, each moment deepening their connection beyond physical intimacy.

As Chan moved inside him, Minho's fingers clawed at Chan's back, his breath hitching with each deep thrust. Pleasure coiled tightly within him, building to a crescendo that threatened to overwhelm his senses. Chan's movements grew more insistent, driven by the raw need to bring Minho to the peak of ecstasy.

"Chan," Minho gasped, his voice a desperate plea mingled with pleasure.

Chan's heart swelled with affection and desire as he pressed his forehead against Minho's, their breaths mingling in a heated exchange. "I'm here, Minho," he murmured, his voice husky with longing. "Let go. I've got you."

With a final, deep thrust, Chan sent Minho spiraling into euphoria. Minho's body trembled beneath him as waves of pleasure washed over him, his moans filling the room with unrestrained ecstasy. Chan held him close, his own release imminent as he buried his face in Minho's neck, his breath hot against Minho's skin.

Moments later, they lay tangled together, their bodies slick with sweat, hearts racing in the aftermath of their shared passion. Chan pressed gentle kisses against Minho's temple, his touch reverent and tender.

"You okay?" Chan asked softly, his fingers tracing soothing patterns along Minho's back.

Minho nodded, a blissful smile spreading across his face. "More than okay," he whispered, his voice filled with contentment.

Chan smiled back, his heart overflowing with love and tenderness for the man in his arms. He gently withdrew from Minho, disposing of the condom, cleaning Minho up and then pulling him close again, cradling him against his chest. They lay together in the quiet of Chan's room, their breathing slowly synchronizing as they savored the intimacy of their shared moment.

"Thank you, Channie," Minho murmured after a while, breaking the peaceful silence. “For being so gentle and always looking out for me.”

Chan kissed the top of Minho's head, his voice a soft murmur against Minho's hair. "Always, Min. I'm always here for you."

They drifted off to sleep in each other's arms, the soft lilac light still casting a gentle glow over their entwined bodies. For Minho and Chan, this night marked not only a physical union but also a deeper understanding of their feelings and a bond strengthened by trust and love.

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist (Please let me know if you want to be added to or removed from the taglist):

@atinyniki @galaxycatdrawz @silverstarburst @aaa-sia @lilmisssona @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict @soullostinspaceandtime @rebecca-johnson-28 @lixie-phoria @kibs-and-bits @xxstrayland @ihrtlix @pheonixfire777 @mellhwang @palindrome969 @harshaaaaa @rylea08 @heeyboooo @manuosorioh @gisaerlleri @andassortedkpop @bbokari711 @kazuuuaaa @rssamj @wolfyychan @stellasays45 @chrizzztopherbang @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @silentreadersthings @myforevermelody143 @sapphirewaves @james-is-here

[cryptcutiee]

Karma Is My Boyfriend

Pairing: Leon Kennedy X Reader (gender neutral) Synopsis: In search of good karma, you do a random act of kindness by paying for the coffee of whoever comes in behind you. That person ends up being a rather attractive man. Tags: Fluff, Comfort Warnings: Use of pet names (sweetheart, sweet thing), age gap (if you squint) Song: Karma - Taylor Swift Word Count: 1.6K Author's Notes: Ahhh hello Tumblr! I haven't posted any writing in a very long time. This is my very first fic on this account, but I do have more in the works. So if you want to see more from me or a part 2 to this, lmk! This is my first x reader story in years so comments and feedback is appreciated!

The day had barely started, yet everything that could go wrong was going wrong. Alarms you set decided not to go off. You had burned your breakfast. The hot water in your shower lasted a total of two minutes before it plunged you into an ice-cold drizzle. Clothes you wanted to put on had mysteriously vanished into thin air. You had dressed in attire you didn't want to wear when it started to rain as you were leaving. It was a bunch of little things adding up to a horrible morning. That didn't bode well for your luck today, which made you worry. Today was significant. You were waiting to hear back from that apartment complex. You needed to get approved for it. The current studio you were living in was crap, and this place would be a major upgrade. With how your day was going, your hope was at an all-time low.

This is how you found yourself standing across the counter from your best friend at the local coffee shop. They were a barista here, and although gossiping on work hours should be frowned upon, they always had time for you. Besides, it seemed slow today. Nobody was in line, and the few patrons lingering around were sitting at tables chatting or working. So you vented about your entire morning as your friend took down your coffee order. You got your usual which was no surprise. With the way your day was going, why would you try something new?

Your friend's eyebrows quirked up at how much of a nightmare your morning had been. "Sounds like you're having a bad energy day."

You leaned against the counter with a deadpan expression. "No shit Sherlock. Normally I wouldn't care, but I can't afford for today to be a bad day! At this rate, I'm going to get denied." You groaned. Anxiety was eating at you, and with how everything had been going, you had little faith in good news.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Your best friend pulled your attention back, "Thinking like that will just make it worse. What if you put some good energy out there, you know, like karma or something?"

You blinked as you took in their words. Karma? You understood the concept of it. Doing bad would attract bad, and doing good would attract good. A sigh left your lips as you stared across the checkout at your friend. "How do you suggest I go about that?" You're sliding your debit card across the counter as you stare them down, waiting for whatever idea they have.

Your friend put on their thinking face, and within moments their expression lit up with an idea. "What about a random act of kindness? You could pay for whoever comes in next!"

The idea rattled around in your brain for a moment. It wasn't like you believed in supernatural forces, but what exactly did you have to lose? "Fine, charge the next person's order to my card. Please don't make a big deal out of it though! I'm not doing it for recognition."

"You got it! Now go wait over by the pickup end. I'll get your order out."

With a nod to your friend, you moved over to the pickup area. Your fingers drummed against the counter anxiously. Eyes darting down to your phone as you waited for that email from the apartment complex. You could hear the bell on the door as you scrolled through your notifications. You listened to your friend speaking to what sounded like a man, but you kept your eyes stuck to your screen. He ordered a black coffee, and then your best friend said the words that made you focus more on the conversion feet away from you.

"I'm happy to say your order today has already been covered!"

When you looked up to see who you had paid for, you may have encountered one of the most attractive men you have ever seen. He had to be older than you, but he looked like he took care of himself. His shirt clung to his fit form, and those arms looked like they could pop a seam on his sleeves. Maybe karma did exist because the universe had just dropped this gorgeous sight right into your lap.

"Oh?" The man's low timber caused something to crawl down your spine. "By who?"

You could see the gears turning in your best friend's brain on how to answer the question. They knew what you asked for but could also witness your reactions from the sidelines. "By the person who ordered before you."

The man quickly put the pieces together, and his eyes glanced at you, the only person waiting for their order.

Mentally you were screaming and cursing at your friend for putting you in this situation, but at the same time, you were thanking them. As if to send the message home, they called out your name and slid your coffee order to you. Your eyes met his, and you felt your stomach do a flip. His eyes were breathtaking. If you looked too long, you thought you'd drown in them. With all the courage in your bones, you mustered an awkward smile. Hand reaching over to grab your coffee, you noticed out of the corner of your eye as the man moved toward you.

"Hey." A slight smile touched his lips as he approached, "Were you the one that paid for my coffee?" He knew it was you, and there was no point in lying to this stunning man.

"Yeah, I did. Don't worry. It was nothing." You replied, trying to shrug it off. "I just wanted to pay it forward. Trying to get some good luck." That same embarrassed smile glued to your face. Talking to this man wasn't in your cards today, but it was going better than everything else this morning.

"I can't just let you do that without introducing myself. I'm Leon, Leon Kennedy." Leon extended his hand out. Your own wrapped around his for a handshake while introducing yourself. "Why are you looking for good luck? Something wrong, sweetheart?"

Your free hand shot up in denial. "Oh no, nothings wrong! I'm waiting for an important email. It's to see if I got approved for this apartment I applied for." There was no reason for you to be telling Leon all of this. He was a stranger, but he was easy to open up to. "My morning was a disaster, and I didn't want the bad luck to continue, so my friend suggested I do something for good karma." You gestured to the barista in the background, your best friend. "Sorry, that all sounds a little silly."

"Not at all." The corner of Leon's lips lifts into a smirk." It's cute, honestly." Those blue eyes of his glimmered with interest as he spoke. It caused butterflies to flutter in your tummy. Suddenly your nerves aren't about the email. They're more about the man in front of you. "Do you have any plans today? I hope I'm not holding you up."

As fast as you can, you shake your head in response. "You aren't! I don't have anything to do today except wait." You watch as your friend delivers the black coffee Leon ordered. Their eyes glance at you with a knowing look. When Leon turns his back to them, they give you a thumbs up before scurrying back to the checkout.

"Then you'll let me repay you by grabbing dinner with me?" Leon grabbed his coffee, a sure look in his eyes. "It's the least I can do for a sweet thing like you, besides it'll get your mind off that email."

Did you just get asked out by some guy you bought coffee for? He was undoubtedly good-looking and had effortless charisma. Saying no would be a mistake. "Sure!" You automatically flush at how enthusiastic you sound. "I mean, that sounds like a nice distraction."

Leon let out a faint chuckle. "I usually get turned down. Maybe I have all the good karma today." Your eyes meet as he takes a sip of his coffee. "You like Italian? I know a good place, my treat."

"I do." Your lips curl into a soft smile. "Do you want to exchange numbers? Here." You open a fresh contact page on your phone and hold the device towards him. Your fingers brush against his as you pass your phone over to Leon. It causes a light blush to paint your features, and you can only hope he doesn't notice. As he's putting his number in, the faint chime of your notification tone rings out. 

Leon's eyes dart to the pop-up, and he grins. "Looks like I'm your good luck charm." He comments, passing the phone back to you. 

Your eyes automatically search the screen and see an email notification. The apartment complex approved you. A wide smile breaks out on your face. "I guess you are, Leon. Maybe I should keep you around." You can feel his blue eyes on you as you say that.

"Maybe you should." There's a beat of silence between the two of you. It suddenly feels like you got trapped in some romance novel. "So, celebration dinner then? Send me your address, and I'll pick you up at seven." Leon breaks the silence with that intoxicating tone of his.

"That works for me! I'll text you."

Exiting the coffee shop, you feel much better than when you arrived. Your newest contact, Leon, is on the screen, and you can't get that smile off your face.

Karma is the guy on the screen, coming straight home to me.

[whalyrae]

DANCE WITH ME - CHAPTER 6

“If you want to keep a secret, you must also hide it from yourself.”

Summary : All your life, you thought you were a beta, a simple and boring beta. Until everything change. But now that you've presented yourself as an omega, how will you manage to live and hide it from your six friends and best friend, all alphas and all in the same pack? (a/n : I'm a shit for summary I'm so sorry-)

Genre : soulmate au (of course I'm a bitch for this), omegaverse, bangtan alphas au!, omega reader, fluff, angst, eventual smut, polyamory relationships

Status : In process

Word Count : 3k

Warnings : the usual one I guess, like smut, angst, fluff (yeah its a warning for some people ) mention of depression, abusive parents (physically and morally), violence and blood, PTSD, scars, self harm,…

Tag list : @ghostlyworld @kawaiikpoplover268 @scuzmunkie @iamkookiesforyou @00ihatesnaku @stellauniverse @akemiixx01 @aceofcards05 @strxwbloody @seoul9711 @amara-mars @alex-walker-86 @yoongicatcat @xicanacorpse

A/N : Remember me ? Ah, I'm so soooo sorry for the wait, really. I'll not vent again, I already did it last weeks. I'm sorry about the quality of the chapter too… it's not really corrected, there are probably lots of spelling, conjugation, syntax mistakes… I think I've lost the little writing talent I had, really, it's so frustrating :') With this writer block it hasn't really helped either… I can't put the ideas I have in my head into words, and it's getting on my nerves too much…!! Hope you'll like it though even a little, I'll do my best for the next one ! ♥ Thank you so much for all the love and attention you give to this story, you can't imagine how much it means for me !! ♥

Also I made a playlist for the story ! If you have any songs who made you think about the story, you can share it to me and I'll add it on the playlist !

Masterlist | ao3 | wattpad | Spotify playlist

Chapter 5 // Chapter 7

☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

The room was silent after Jungkook's explanation. He and Yoongi had not waited to go to the oldest of the two's apartments where their partners were. Fortunately, since it was so late in the day, they were all there, and reunited in the same place. 

Jungkook shared what he heard during your conversation with Wooyoung and Yeosang. When you said you were an omega. 

Jimin was the first to react. Of course, he did. 

“I can’t believe it…!” he exclaimed after a few seconds, “She’s my best friend… we’ve known each other since high school! If she were an omega, she would've told me! She can't have lied to me…”

Sitting between Hoseok and Taehyung, he brought his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around his legs with a pout. He accepted Hoseok's embrace, who placed a kiss on his head. 

The other boys stayed silent. Some of them were quite surprised to learn this, but Namjoon, Yoongi and Taehyung weren't so surprised to hear it, something inside them knew it, they just couldn't explain it.  

"But that'd explain a lot..." Jimin added with a sigh, " she's quite... different recently..."

He obviously noticed the change in your behavior towards him recently. You were more distant and less tactile, and you tended to isolate yourself more in your room, whereas before, you spent all your free time with them, in one of their apartments. 

At first, he thought that the classes and the dancing were exhausting you physically and mentally, like him. And knowing you, you tended to isolate yourself when you weren't feeling well. But it had never lasted as long as it did. He would never have thought that the reason behind it was... that you were an omega.

"We've all noticed it, I think," Jin replied, crossing his arms and looking thoughtful.

"But if she really is an omega," continued Jungkook, "why did she hide it from us? Would she be... afraid of us or something?"

The younger’s question left the room in silence. Everyone had heard about your misadventures with alphas, the behavior of your parents, and your brothers and sisters who were themselves alphas. And even though Jimin had always been the exception to the rule in your life, and now the other boys, you still had a certain reserve towards alphas. And that was as a beta. So, if you were an omega...

“It's not as if it matters anyway,” Namjoon affirmed, “whether she's a beta, an omega, or even an alpha, she's with us, she's part of the pack. But it's true that I'm wondering why she's hiding it from us.”

"Everyone has their wounds, scars, we all do, and we know that our little Y/N has some deep ones that haven't fully healed yet..." Hoseok spoke in a soft, understanding voice, stroking Jimin's hair in a protective, reassuring way.

"It takes time to gain someone's trust, even more so when someone has suffered mistreatment, abandonment, or physical and psychological violence." added Namjoon, crossing his arms. 

Namjoon was right, and everyone agreed with him. For them, naturally, it didn't matter whether you were an alpha, a beta, or an omega. You were who you were, whatever your nature. 

Everyone also knew what you'd been through with your parents, how they treated you, how they had treated you in the past.

None of them had ever said or done anything inappropriate to you, as they would to any of them.

This was the first time in your life since Jimin that you'd been treated like a real human being with respect and consideration, with no alpha, omega or beta stuffs behind it. You were simply Y/N. That was why you'd been able to open to them, to relax and feel at ease in their presence, but there was still a way to go, they were aware about that.

“It’s easy, we can just go and ask her." Yoongi stood up, ready to leave the apartment, "there's no point in speculating and making yourself feel bad," he continued, giving Jimin a gentle look, "I'm sure she'll be able to help us clear up this issue. She's the best person to tell us about it. "

Yoongi was the most impatient of all. But inside of him, he didn't want to admit that you had hidden something from them. Something that in one way didn't matter, but in another way did, more than they or even you realized. 

“Wait hyung!” Jimin grabbed his arms to stop him. “Maybe it’s… something deeper than just a little secret she hides from us… If we go and find her now, she might panic, and things could go badly.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes but didn’t argue with him. 

“I don't want to risk losing her... I couldn't bear that.”

Jimin ran a hand through his hair as he thought about how he'd felt when he'd seen you with San earlier in the day. Even though the interaction between you had been completely innocent, he had imagined you leaving him and his companions to go with him, Wooyoung, and their pack. This simple thought had given him a painful sensation in his lower abdomen that made him wince. 

He knew you weren't interested in San, or Wooyoung, or anyone else for either (or so he thought). But despite everything, he still had this fear deep inside of him, of losing the people he loved. 

"If you'd told her how you felt about her from the start you wouldn't be in this situation." 

Jimin turned his head towards Taehyung, surprised and shocked by his words.

"Taehyung!" 

"I'm totally right, Jin hyung! He already knows! We've already talked about it several times." 

Jimin felt six pairs of eyes on him and shrugged. Yes, it was true that Jimin had confided in Taehyung several times about you. About his feelings for you that he'd kept deep inside him since high school, about his desire for you that only grew stronger with each passing day. More than once, Taehyung had tried to get Jimin to tell you how he felt, but without succeeding in convincing him.

To be honest, it wasn't really a secret that Jimin loved you and that you loved Jimin in return.

At least, it was obvious to everyone except both of you. 

“Namjoon, Yoongi, and I were best friends too…” Jin giggled, “And here we are now.”

Namjoon chuckled and nodded. They had already talked about how they had become more than friends. A drunken evening together had been enough to loosen their tongues and open their hearts. 

“We need to find a good way to figure out all of this,” concluded Hoseok, “and we should tell her, too. Everything.”

They all glanced at Hoseok. Some of them were tense, especially Jin, Jimin, and Jungkook. But Taehyung, Yoongi, and Namjoon agreed with him. 

“I don't know how you've done it, and I don't know how you've kept going all this time, Jimin,” Yoongi let out, stretching.

“Yeah, she's.... fuck I can't even describe it,” Namjoon muttered as he remembered what had happened between you and Yoongi a few weeks ago. In fact, it was that episode that had a triggering effect on him, on how he really felt about you. He also remembered noticing your change at that time, and that he would eventually get the answers to his questions. 

Now he had them.

As for Yoongi, he didn't need all that to know that he felt an irrepressible attraction to you, the same as he felt for each of his companions. 

They were all attracted to you. It wasn't the first time they'd talked about it, discussed a potential way to confess everything to you.

But how could they tell their roommate and beta friend that her seven alphas’ friends, one of whom had been her best friend since high school, all felt an attraction to her?

And what if her feelings weren’t mutuals to all of them?

“Listen…” Jimin began after few seconds, coming to his senses and straightening up, "I'll talk to her, let me talk to her first... but I need time to think about how to broach the subject, and with evaluations coming up..."

"Certainly Jimin, naturally." Namjoon replied in a gentle voice, moving closer to him and placing a kiss on his forehead, "whatever happens, you won't lose her. No one will lose anyone, I promise."

“But what do we do until then?” Asked Jungkook with a small pout.

“Well, I guess we had to wait, act normally, as we always have. We've been able to hold back all those months. Ah yes… years for you, Jimin.” Jin teased with a playful wink, ignoring the death gaze his boyfriend gave him, “we can hold back a little longer," he then affirmed with a nod, even if he was as unconvinced as his partners.

Their attraction to you was growing by the day. And the little encounter with Namjoon and Yoongi clearly showed that they were finding it harder and harder to contain themselves.

None of them wanted to lose you. And they would never, ever do or say anything to hurt you. They were all convinced that if you really were an omega, you had a good reason for keeping it from them until now.  

°°°

You had no idea of the conversation going on upstairs, nor that Jungkook had heard a part of your call with Wooyoung and Yeosang. After hanging up with them, you left your room to go to the kitchen and get something to eat. Noticing that none of your Alpha friends were present in the apartment, you concluded that they had probably decided to spend the evening together. The idea pinched your heart somewhat. Of course, you couldn't blame them, they were together after all, you were just a friend to them (or so you thought). You didn't know why you felt this way. And you didn't like it. As if your life wasn't complicated enough as it was, with the sudden discovery that you were an omega that you didn't know how to handle or how to tell your best alpha friend without him thinking you'd been hiding it from him all these years. Losing him too... you didn't want to think about it. You didn't want to lose either of them.

One good news, however, was that there were currently no signs of potential heat. This gave you more time to think about how you would tell Jimin and the boys.

You didn't know when, or how they would show up, whether it would be like the first time, or not. But Wooyoung had reassured you that you'd feel the first symptoms coming on now that you were aware of your omega condition.  With a sigh, you headed into the kitchen to prepare yourself something to eat. Tomorrow would be a busy day, as you and Wooyoung had planned to train for longer than usual, as the fateful date of the demonstration and therefore of the evaluation was next week, and you needed to keep up your strength.

You didn't have the energy or the mood to cook yourself an elaborate meal. Simple instant noodles would do. You were just going to add some meat and eggs to the preparation, nothing more.

It wasn't long afterwards, when you were waiting for the water to boil, leaning against the kitchen counter with your cell phone in hand, that you heard the front door open.

"Oh, you're back already?" you asked, noticing Jimin, Hoseok and Jungkook. "I thought you'd had a lovers' date or something."

Your tone had been sharper and colder than you'd expected. You felt your heart and stomach twist slightly. Your three friends who'd just returned didn't seem to notice though, and so much for the better.

"Not at all, with the evaluations coming up, we don't really have time for this sort of thing anymore!" replied Hoseok with a laugh, approaching her with his hands in his pockets, "what are you making? Instant noodles, really?"

Hoseok's tone seemed accusatory.

"Noona! You're a dancer! You need to eat better than that!" Jungkook exclaimed.

You rolled your eyes, chuckling and shaking your head.

"No time or energy to make me a real thing. Would you like some too? Or have you guys already eaten? Don't say no and then steal my food as you always do!"

You heard Jimin's laughter, quickly followed by Jungkook and Hoseok.

Then, suddenly, reality hit you. It hit you as if a boxer had just punched you in the face.

Your head turned towards them, there they were, simply doing the simplest thing in the world. Talking, laughing, joking. And yet, it was as if it were the most beautiful thing, the most melodious sound you'd ever heard.

Your eyes widened, you stopped breathing for a few seconds, and you just stayed still, staring at them. Your heart was racing fast, too fast.

Oh.

Oh.

Thinking back, what you were feeling, at that very moment, why your heart was beating so fast when you were with one of them, when you were with Jimin, since high school. This desire to always be with one of them, this feeling of security, of well-being, of safety you felt in their presence. There were no doubts.

Wooyoung and Yeosang had explained it to you. At first, you hadn't really understood what he meant at the time (or you didn't want to understand it, you weren’t ready for that truth), but now everything seemed clear.

As if the fog in your heart and mind had finally cleared.

The attraction of an omega to an alpha, of an alpha to an omega, only worked if the feelings were there too.

It was simple, and logical. You felt a bit foolish.

You couldn't help but let out a nervous laugh, drawing the attention of the three boys.

"Noona? Is everything all right?" Jimin asked, clearly worried.

You looked up at him and noticed with surprise that the water had probably been boiling for many minutes.

Jimin was standing not far from you, his beautiful brown eyes staring back at you. This simple eye contact between you had been enough to make your heart rate quicken again.

"Uh I... yeah, yeah everything's fine...!"

You turned to pick up the packets of instant noodles, noticing without much surprise that Jungkook had added two more.

Your intonation wasn't as confident as you'd hoped. You saw Jimin's gaze become more serious. He took a step towards you, making you take a step back.

You could feel his singular, distinctive scent invading you, as it had since the first day, you'd met in the high school dance club.

How could you not have noticed it before? How could you not have realized?

You were in love with your best friend.

You were in love with your best friend, and his companions, your friends.

Well, technically you'd realized it a few hours earlier when you called Wooyoung and Yeosang. But now, now that you were face to face with the people involved... now that you were confronted with the undeniable truth... things were different, totally different.

Your gestures were suddenly clumsier. You couldn't hide the fact that you were troubled for some reasons unknown to him.

To your relief, Hoseok and Jungkook were in the living room, seemingly focused on some program playing on the TV. But Jimin was still there, scanning you completely.

He was the one who'd known you best, for the longest time. He knew something was wrong, without really knowing exactly what.

How to tell him that in the space of a few weeks, you'd learned you were an omega, but on top of that, you'd just realized how you felt about him and your friends?

It was a lot to take in, to accept for someone who hadn't learned to express her feelings and emotions.

You had to calm down, not panic, not worry Jimin.

As for the last point, it was already a bit of a failure.

"Noona, please, talk to me..." he murmured, his hands resting delicately on your shoulders.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself, resting your hands on his. They were so soft, you couldn't help but squeeze them, wanting to hold them longer.

You never wanted to let them go.

"I'm fine, just a little... stressed and tired, it'll get better after the evaluations, I promise."

Jimin didn't seem convinced, and you could read it on his face. You smiled at him and took him into your arms for a long hug, holding him tightly against you.

He seemed surprised at first, but eventually returned your embrace, his arms wrapping around your waist and his head resting against your shoulder.

You made a decision. In truth, you'd made up your mind after your call with Wooyoung and Yeosang, but now you were sure and certain you wanted to do it.

After your evaluations, in less than two weeks, you'd confess everything to the boys.

... well, maybe not about your feelings for them. Not just yet, and maybe you never will. Never could your feelings be returned.

But you owed them the truth that you were an omega. You had an unspeakable fear of reliving the rejection you experienced with your family, but lying to your best friend, to your friends was worse than anything.

As you felt his warmth, his scent takes possession of your being, your body had relaxed.

"I'll always be with you Y/n, no matter what," Jimin murmured, his embrace around you tightening, and you couldn't contain the shiver as his breath brushed up against your skin, "you and me against the whole world, remember?"

He lifted his head, and you stared at him a few seconds before letting out a laugh. You hadn't heard those words since high school.

"Hey lovebirds, you're cute and all huh, but we're starving!”

"We're not lovebirds!" Jimin and you exclaimed at the same time, causing Jungkook and Hoseok, the one who spoke, to burst into hilarity.

You stepped back from Jimin and turned your back to him while he bickered with his two partners, mostly to hide your face and your blushes from them. You took the packets of noodles, the pre-cut meat, and the eggs. You put everything in the boiling water pan, taking long, slow breaths, trying to calm the pounding of your heart.

Damn it. Those guys will really be the death of you.

[wooahaes]

step forward, steps back

pairing: non-idol!joshua & gn!reader [platonic]

genre: hurt/comfort. writer's vent fic.

word count: 1.2k~

warnings: food (hot chocolate) mention. discussions of past abuse & mentions to sex within that relationship. discussions of current dating and potentially not being ready for it yet. platonic skinship between shua & reader (kisses on the top of the head, a little cuddling, etc). mentions of a trauma response in pattern recognition as an attempt to protect the self. writer is working through feelings rn. reader crying. no proofreading.

daisy's notes: i debated turning off reblogs or not putting this in the tags but if anyone else needs to hear this kind of thing... then i hope it helps. it's okay to not be ready after abuse. i'll struggle with accepting it, but that doesn't mean it's not true.

Joshua's fingers were warm around your own cold ones as he passed you your cup of hot chocolate. He'd known you so, so long now, and still he never seemed surprised that your hands were always a bit cold: you constantly forgot to wear gloves in colder weather, and other times you just seemed to bundle up in other ways when you were chilly. His hands lingered there a bit longer, though, just to make sure the porcelain wasn't about to slip. The look on your face said it all: you needed your best friend right now.

"I added a little bit of cinnamon into it," he settled into the spot next to you, watching the numb way you traced one of your thumbs against the smooth, shiny blue porcelain. This was your mug, always tucked safely away in the back of his cabinets. No one else's. "Sorry there's no whipped cream. I meant to get more, but--"

"I'm really scared."

Something flipped within him immediately, and he shifted. "Did he touch you?" A shake of your head. "Did... Did he say something? Because if he said something--"

"He reminds me of him, Josh." You didn't meet his eyes, still staring down at the mug in your hands instead. It was always easier to not look at Joshua in moments like these. He didn't mind: whatever you needed, you could do. It was his job to listen and support now. "Like... Not in the bad ways. At least, I don't think that's it. But... I don't want to tell him everything because it's early, he doesn't need to know the intricate bullshit of that abuse." With a heavy sigh, your shoulders slumped. "But I can't set boundaries without saying 'hey, this reminds me of that abusive guy I mentioned before,' because it's his personality."

He furrowed his brows. "But..."

"It's kinda fucked up," you shifted, and set down the mug on his coffee table without taking a sip. It'd be there when you were done, and Joshua would warm it back up if he needed to. You tucked your legs underneath you, pulling the blanket he'd draped over your shoulders even closer to you. "But... When I think of that guy... I don't think of all the bad. I mean--He was a manipulative piece of shit, Josh, but that's not all he was. Like..."

"That's how abusers get their victims," he said outright, just so you wouldn't have to. "I know."

Another sigh, followed by you shifting a bit more on his couch. "Right. It's like... It's pattern recognition, I think. It's not something I want, but it's like my brain keeps waving these flags like... Hey, remember the last guy? You felt warm and fuzzy with him, too. He heard me say that no one's called me pretty or beautiful before and he started laying it on thick, too." You shut your eyes. "I know this isn't going in the same direction, because we already had this talk--I don't have to worry about it all just being for sex."

Joshua moved in a little more, arm wrapping around you. His thumb traced down your arm, and he felt you shift closer to him. "Okay. So...?"

"So I know it's all irrational. But... What if... It's all this big sign that I'm not ready to date?"

You stiffened in his arms. It was different saying it out loud, wasn't it? Joshua knew you, he knew the way you would think about things. You'd thought the same thing so, so many times--even when you weren't dating. What if you weren't ready? What if you would never be ready? Therapy wasn't something you could do yet, not without some sort of adjustment to your finances and time and everything that held you back from it all. It was always a one day kind of deal, and it'd never panned out. Life kept getting in the way.

"Then you aren't ready," Joshua said, taking your hands in his own. "And that's okay. You were really hurt by everything, you know. You're allowed to not be ready."

"We weren't even together that long."

"Okay?" Joshua squeezed your hands gently. "And? He still hurt you."

"It was... Mainly just sexual, though."

You were doing it again. Joshua slid a little closer to you, knee pressing against your thigh. "It wasn't and you know that. He listened to you a lot, he made you laugh, he complimented you..." Just so he could keep you in his grasp. He'd heard the story before and committed the details to memory so you wouldn't have to say them again. "Like you just said... It's not all bad because then no one would agree to a relationship with them."

Your breath hitched, and already Joshua was pulling you into his arms as the tears began to flow. He could feel your warm skin against the crook of his neck as you broke into sobs, fingers curling hard around the soft t-shirt he'd donned while lazing around his apartment.

"But I really like him, Shua."

"I know." He rubbed circled onto your back.

You held on tighter. "I'm just so fucking scared."

"I know." He pressed a kiss onto the side of your hair. "Maybe it's not the right time."

"Then when will it be?!" You pulled away just to see his face, tears racing down your cheeks. "When--When will it be the right fucking time?!"

He said nothing, and you broke down yet again before diving into his arms. It's been years was what you wanted to say. He shut his eyes, holding you tighter.

"I know it's not what you want to hear," he said, still rubbing circles onto your back in a slow, soothing motion. "But you should talk to him about it soon. Tell him that you might not be as ready as you thought you were. Okay?"

A quiet nod, and you held onto him tighter. "I don't wanna lose him."

"If he's the kind of guy I think he is..." Joshua's heard so much by now. "... Then he meant it when he said he was okay if this didn't go anywhere. Just..." He nudged you away, taking your face in his hands. "Just don't forget that, okay? It's okay if you try to keep this going and it turns out you're better as friends right now. Just don't shut him out."

You wiped roughly at your face with your sleeves, curling back up in Joshua's warm embrace. "I love you, you know," you mumbled. "I'm glad you're my friend, Joshua."

He chuckled, pressing another gentle kiss onto the top of your head. "Someone has to be the voice of reason when Cheol, Jeonghan, and I start making plans."

With a sniffle, you rolled your eyes. "Yeah, because sometimes those plans involve breaking into the humanities building to put party hats on the statues."

"We didn't do it--"

"Yeah! 'Cause I stopped you!" You rolled your eyes, cheek smushed against his shoulder as you rested your head against it. "Can't believe Cheol of all people knew about the broken window lock..."

He laughed, soft and warm as ever, and rested his head against your own. "Really... I mean it. It's okay to not be ready yet, okay? You're still healing."

With a sigh, you snuggled in further. "Can we just... watch something stupid and make fun of it? I think I need to clear my head now."

Joshua chuckled a little, lightly flicking your forehead after untangling himself from you. "You pick whatever. I'll get the snacks."

no taglist on account of venty feelings

[todarknessitfalls]

Wait, a pinned post?? In this economy??

"Go on, make my day, go get high, on my mistakes."

Hi! I’m Antagonist/Kris/Nikolai, a certified crazy person silly goober.

I also go by Jack or Mercutio, but ask before using those names for me + nicknames. Jack and Mercutio is only for friends, and Tio as a nickname is only for very close friends

Artist page (Basic info) ->-> Meet the Artist!

My lovely boyfriend is @thund3randrain <3

Head over heels for my QPP @the-fallen-collective <3

I am unwell over many many things such as Palaye Royale, FNAF, BSD, Laceygames and unfortunately many many more

"Daydreaming of my funeral, like who would go, bet no one would show"

Currently obssessing over: FNAF + Afton Family Lore (specifically william afton) Palaye Royale The Amazing Digital Circus BSD Bendy and The Dark Revival + Bendy and The Ink Machine (blue is the biggest hyperfixations currently)

He/It/Void/Gore/Confetti/Pop/Doll/Lace. No They/Them (unless we're close) or She/Her please!!

"This is goodbye, you've bled me dry."

18+ users can interact and DM as long as you aren’t icky and comfy with the fact that i am a minor :3

DNIs: - Bad people in general - General DNIs (homophobes, transphobes, misogyonists, etc etc) - Radqueers - Pro-contact - Zoophiles, Pedophiles, etc etc - [Pro] Endogenic systems - Anti-recovery blogs (for EDs, S/H, anything) - NSFW + smut blogs - MDNI blogs - Anti-alterhumanity

"Same me, same you! Until the drugs start doing you~"

for our system blog see @a-void-of-a-system , there’s a personal blog list there. mostly the host (kris) will be posting here!!

I try to use tonetags, also please use tonetags with me!! It helps a lot :3

Please ask before touch!!

I mod too many RP blogs to count- I'll make a masterlist one day.

"I'm sorry mom I've got to go, I've dug this grave I call my home."

Interests -

FNAF + Afton Family

Super Mario Bros. (Basically every mario thing ever)

Bungou Stray Dogs

Laceygames

Classical literature

Drawing (i do take requests!! might be a bit slow though-)

Writing (both fanficition and original stories!!)

Saiki K

Assassination Classroom

"Unfaithful night, housewife she can smell the perfume"

common tags used on this blog:

#antagonist reblogs - i reblog random shit!! won’t always remember to tag though T^T

#antagonist rambles - my incessant yapping!!

#antagonist shitposts - i shitpost lol

#antagonist stims - self explanatory

#antagonist doodles - my drawings!!

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#antagonist yaps with friends - me chats with my friends!!

#antagonist used a braincell - my thoughts. could be anything from shitposts to philosophy to maths!!

#antagonist vents - my vents, always check and block the tags pls!!

#antagonist is tired. - i am so so tired.

#antagonist laceyposts - what it says on the tin. i laceypost!

#antagonist is william afton - william afton posting

#man i love michael afton - michael afton posting

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#antagonist travels to eep land - i say good night !

"Poor me, poor you, maybe one more drink or two Big dreams, small shoes, got nothing else left to lose"

uhm i think that’s it!! just be patient with me if i’m taking time to answer asks or requests, i get overwhelmed easily, and don’t take it personally ^^

all my moots ily and everyone else have a great time in my little corner of insanity!!

[sweetmage]

Happy Friday! How do you feel about a bit of Purple Mage M!Hawke/Anders/Justice and some "Reopening an Old Wound," either literally or metaphorically?

Hiii! Thank you so much for the prompt, I really enjoyed writing this one <3 Justice is more of an influence on Anders' thoughts/opinions than a direct presence in this (save for a few mentions) but I think it fits the prompt otherwise! Also, it totally got away from me, I couldn't resist falling into love confession territory 😆💖Thank you again!

@dadrunkwriting -- Rating: M Word Count: 5325 Characters: Anders, Hawke, Sebastian (mentioned) Trigger/Content Warnings: Brief canon typical mention of past abuse and sexual assault (with regards to the Circle), Sebastian critical (in the context of the story and Anders' feelings/opinions) Tags: Supportive Mage Hawke, past trauma, emotional hurt/comfort, banter and teasing, love confessions, innuendos, suggestive flirting, making out, insecurities, reassurance, crying, venting session, bed sharing, spending the night, falling in love.

Summary: After an insensitive confrontation from Sebastian rubbed him raw and a trip to the Hanged Man and Blooming Rose failed to soothe the hurt, Anders began to wander the streets and accidentally found himself on Hawke's doorstep...

Based on this Sebastian & Anders banter (imgur link)

Anders must have been the first man alive to ever leave a whorehouse unsatisfied. Even there he hadn't found respite from his troubled thoughts, only disappointment, discomfort, and a considerably lighter coin purse.

Though the arrogant prick had up and left hours ago, Anders could still feel his words like a dagger in his gut, lodged so tight even drink and fair company couldn't dull the ache.

He hated Sebastian, that spoiled princeling with a silver spoon shoved so far up his ass he could surely taste the metal. He was everything wrong with the Chantry personified; a zealot who hid his privilege beneath a veneer of piety and poverty while turning his eyes from the rot beneath his feet.

Of course he couldn't understand Anders' anger or grasp the depths of despair mages lived in every day, the fear that had been the cornerstone of his—every mage's—existence from the moment he'd first manifested magic.

The fact that that sanctimonious bastard dared even ask if something happened there, as though the reality all around him didn't speak for itself—it made him want to spit.

At this rate, he should have returned home but he'd lost track of the hours, drunk and aimless as he wandered through the city streets. He hadn't realized which turns he'd taken, how many steps he'd climbed until he found himself standing on a familiar doorstep, fingers hesitating at the knocker.

It was late, well past the hour he should be troubling Hawke, but when he tried to turn and go he found his body refusing to listen. Instead, his fingers wrapped around the cool metal of the knocker and knocked softly, regretting the action as soon as the sound echoed through the silence.

Retreating with a step back and another to follow, he was already turning to go when the door swung open and Hawke stood there, sleep-tousled and in a half-tied robe that hung loosely off the shoulder.

Anders' tongue seemed to swell and lodge itself at the back of his throat and his further attempts at escape landed him sprawled unceremoniously against the pavement at the bottom of the steps.

"What in the—" Hawke's hands were suddenly upon him, rolling him over onto his back and hauling him to his feet, his strong arms steadying him. "Anders?"

"I didn't mean to wake you," Anders muttered, the words spilling from his lips without conscious thought as he brushed the dirt from his coat. "I'm sorry. I'm going."

Hawke's hand caught his wrist and held him back. "Anders. Come inside."

"No, I shouldn't. I need to get back. I just, I didn't know where else to go. But I shouldn't have bothered you. I'll see you tomorrow. I'm fine." He tugged at his wrist and was surprised when Hawke held firm.

"You show up at my doorstep at Maker-knows-what hour, falling all over yourself and trying to run off into the night and I'm supposed to believe you're fine?"

Anders' gaze fell to the hand around his wrist, unable to meet Hawke's eyes. Against his better judgment, he said nothing, the silence stretching on long enough that Hawke sighed and dragged him into the house.

He didn't have the will or energy to fight it, following without a word of protest or resistance, allowing himself to be led through the quiet manor up to Hawke's bedroom.

"You didn't drop by to borrow a cup of sugar," Hawke noted, gesturing for him to have a seat at the desk or on the bed. Anders chose the desk. "Why are you here?"

Anders thought long and hard about the question only to come to an unsatisfactory answer. "I don't know."

"Are you drunk?"

"Yes."

"I thought you said Justice disapproved."

Anders shrugged, picking up the closest thing to him—a letter opener—and flipping it between his fingers, spinning it round and round, back and forth, his eyes glued to the movement of the blade. "I guess he's out for the night." It was meant to be a joke but he didn't have it in him and it slipped right over Hawke's head.

"Huh... So what happened? Trouble at the clinic?"

"No. I haven't been back today," he answered, shaking his head.

"After your little spat with Seb, you mean?" He asked the question in a casual, offhand way as though it wasn't a big deal, just a little squabble among travelmates.

Anders didn't answer, but the mention of Sebastian's name made his knuckles whiten around the blade’s grip.

"I should have said something," Hawke admitted, leaning back against the door and crossing his arms. "I didn't expect it to get so ugly."

"It's not your job to fight my battles for me." He looked up at him for a moment, then quickly turned away.

"I don't get paid to do a lot of things," Hawke replied. "Never stopped me before. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside."

"You'd face his wrath, listen to him prattle on just for the warmth and fuzziness of it all?" His lip quirked slightly, momentarily diverted from his woes as he regarded his friend dubiously.

"Everyone needs a hobby." He pushed himself off the wall to join Anders by the desk, settling himself on the edge and looking down upon him. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not particularly," he said, not entirely truthfully. It would be all too easy to let it spill forth—his worries and fears and frustrations—but it felt selfish. It was easier to turn his sights to the plight of others, to bear the pain of the downtrodden in place of his own and forget that he, too, could hurt.

"So you came here just to brood at my desk and play with my things?"

“Apparently," he murmured. Returning the opener to its proper place, Anders instead ran his hands idly along the smooth edge of the desk. "I'm sorry. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I didn't have some grand plan in mind. I didn't mean to come here."

"And yet, here you are. If you didn't want to see me, there's a few other people in Kirkwall you could have dropped in on. Washed up Orlesian chevaliers. Carta dwarves. That crazy guy who hangs out under the stairs. You picked me. What does that say about you, I wonder?"

"That I have poor taste and a penchant for trouble?" Anders guessed.

"I was going more for 'he needs someone who cares' but that's a close second."

Smiling ruefully, Anders shook his head, his hair slipping from behind his ear. Hawke reached over to brush it aside, tucking the loose locks gently back where they belonged. Quietly, Anders turned to look at him, eyes tracing his friend's features in the dim candlelight as his hand lingered at his jaw a moment too long.

"I'm awake now and my ears are all yours so why not talk? It might make you feel better."

It might... It just seemed so unnecessary when there were far greater concerns in Kirkwall to address. Yet he found himself regretting that last drink, the one that now had the words resting heavy on the tip of his tongue, begging for freedom.

"Anders?"

"He asked me if something happened to me in the Circle. If I was angry about it. The very fact that he could even ask that..." He scoffed and turned away. "The nerve of it..."

"Did something happen to you?" Hawke asked, his tone soft and low. Somehow on his lips—a mage, a friend—it sounded less prying than when Sebastian had asked it.

"Something happens to a lot of us. That's how things are in a Circle. They take your life from you, tell you what to think and how to behave. They force mages into isolation, separate them from everything and everyone they've ever loved and they're told it's for their own safety, that they're only helping. Then they do a lot worse than that, they have all these pretty words to dress that up, to make them believe that what they're going through is just a natural consequence of being born who they are." He felt Justice stirring at the thought and tried to quash his emotions before they could spark something bigger.

"I didn't ask about the other mages, though. I asked about you."

An odd feeling rose within him—like a spotlight had been trained upon him, the only man in a dark room. He shifted, suddenly uncomfortable under the scrutiny. "Yes. No. Sort of. It doesn't matter."

Hawke seemed dissatisfied with his answer, his lips pursed and head cocked slightly to one side. "It doesn't sound like you were very ‘fortunate’," he remarked of Anders' early statements, the words he'd used to dismiss Sebastian's questions.

'It's not about being beaten or raped by a templar— that does happen, but I've been fortunate.'

His own words played over in his mind, a barrier he'd erected between himself and the truth. That it kept Sebastian out as well was just a bonus. He'd spent so long building his defenses, fortifying himself in the way required to stand for others, but Hawke's steady, caring gaze was chipping away at them.

"I was fortunate to escape," he conceded, his words halting and reluctant. "Most don't. They still face that threat every day."

"So that's what happened to you? Raped and beaten? And everything else you were on about?"

He had met few people less tactful than Hawke, but something about the way he put aside his mask of charm and humor and just said the things others danced around was oddly comforting. He was trying and that was more than many had done for Anders.

"I don't really want to talk about this," he answered quietly, not meeting his gaze.

"I'm sorry that happened to you."

Anders felt the prickle of tears at the corners of his eyes and the heat rising in his face and hated both. "It doesn't matter," he said, trying and failing to keep his voice even. "It was a long time ago."

"Maybe. It doesn't make it hurt any less, does it?"

"No. It doesn't. I haven't told anyone except for Justice. He... saw it. When he joined with me. Everything that happened over decades in a split second. But then we couldn't speak to each other anymore. So the only one that knows now is..." He looked down at his hands, flexing the fingers as though they weren't his own. "I shouldn't have put that on you. I'm sorry. Just forget I said anything..."

Without preamble, Hawke lowered himself from the desk and placed his hands upon Anders' shoulders and pulled him forward, wrapping his arms around him in an awkward but sincere embrace.

Anders stiffened in surprise, uncertain how to react at first. After a moment, though, he gave in, leaning into Hawke and letting his arms circle his waist, hands fisting at the back of his robes as his emotions began to spill forth, a quiet sob wracking his body before he could stifle it.

Hawke's hand cradled the back of his head, his fingers slipping into his hair. He graciously said nothing, simply holding Anders as the dam broke and his years of pain and suffering found release.

He had never wished to distract from the bigger picture, to center himself in a fight that was not his alone, but he knew that Hawke saw the root of what he was fighting for. Was it so wrong, then, to let him see a glimpse of the man beneath the cause?

Anders didn't know, but it felt good to be seen, to be understood.

"Feel better?" Hawke asked, breaking the silence between them when Anders finally pulled back.

He was embarrassed at his outburst, at the damp patch of tears upon Hawke's shoulder, but there was no mocking in his friend's eyes, no judgment or disgust, just simple compassion. "A bit. Thank you."

"My pleasure. I mean, not my actual pleasure, obviously. I didn't enjoy watching you cry, I just—you know what? Nevermind." He cleared his throat, straightening his house robe and looking away.

Anders smiled, a small, fleeting thing, and wiped at his nose with the sleeve of his coat. "You're a good friend, Hawke. I'm not sure what I've done to— I mean, you're just... you're a good man."

"Be still, my beating heart," Hawke muttered, putting a hand to his chest as though overwhelmed by the flattery. And perhaps he was, his cheeks dusted a light shade of pink and a sheepish smile upon his lips. "Don't go getting all sentimental on me or I'll be the next one to wind up in tears."

"Well if you need a shoulder..."

"Those do look pretty soft," Hawke teased, gesturing to the plumage that adorned Anders' coat. "I'm going to have to take you up on that sometime."

"Anytime," Anders said, chuckling lightly.

"So, would you prefer the bed or the floor?"

The question left him feeling off-kilter, unsure whether Hawke was making a joke or asking legitimately. He hesitated a moment, considering, then realized it was probably a bit silly to think too hard about it if he was being genuine.

"I think the cots in my clinic are just fine, thank you."

"Seriously, Anders? Still trying to scamper off? After all that? We've hugged and everything!"

"And that means you think I should share your bed now?"

"I never mentioned anything about sharing," Hawke replied, his brows arching.

"A-ah..." Anders felt the heat rise in his cheeks, his heart picking up a notch. "I suppose you didn't." Standing quickly, he tried not to seem too hasty as he turned for the door. "Still, it's late and I'm sobering up so—"

Hawke's hand closed around his wrist, stopping him again. "Stay."

"What?"

"Here. Tonight. With me. Stay."

It was hard not to notice how close Hawke was, standing a scant inch from him, the scent of him filling his senses. His eyes fell to his lips and then he tore his gaze away, his face hot, pulse racing.

He knew he shouldn't get any closer, but the night had already gotten away from him and his thoughts were still hazy, clouded with alcohol and emotion.

"It's a long walk, the sun will be up before you get back to Darktown and you've had quite a bit to drink. It's better you stay here. And... I'd miss you, if you left."

Anders looked at Hawke, at his kind, earnest expression and could not find it in himself to say no. "You do so much for me. I don't know how to thank you."

"Try getting a solid eight to ten hours of sleep for once and we'll call it even," he replied, only half-teasing.

"Ten? I haven't even slept for more than six since..." He sighed, not even knowing how long he'd been undersleeping to allow for more work time. But if that was all Hawke was asking then it was hardly an unreasonable request. "Alright."

"Good." Releasing his wrist, Hawke took a step back, removing himself from Anders' personal space. "Do you need anything? Food? Water?"

"No, I'll be alright. Sleep does sound nice. I'll just go hang up my coat and—"

"Ah. Right. You need something to sleep in. Hold tight a moment." He strode across the room and rifled through his wardrobe, returning a few moments later with a loose house robe. "It's probably a bit too big but it's better than nothing. There's a basin in the corner if you want to wash up. Or you can use the tub downstairs, it's big enough for a family. Not that you need that, unless you have an interesting story to tell. Not that it's any of my business if you do." He held the robe out to him and Anders took it, amused at his rambling. He seemed almost... nervous? Or perhaps the hour was getting to him.

"I'll make do with the basin, thanks," he said, reluctant to dally any longer than necessary lest he lose his nerve and get the urge to flee again.

"Of course." Hawke smiled, gesturing vaguely towards the washbasin and turning away for Anders' privacy.

He dipped behind the divider and stripped down to his smalls, performing a quick, perfunctory wash before redressing in the robe Hawke had provided. To say they were too large would be a vast understatement, his slender frame was all but swallowed up by the oversized garment. He flushed, tugging self-consciously at the hem as he emerged.

As expected, Hawke wore an amused grin the moment his eyes fell upon him, just barely withholding a snicker at his expense.

"Yeah yeah, laugh it up," Anders grumbled, though he couldn't help but return the smile, his amusement proved infectious.

"Oh, I'm going to, don't even worry," he said, his laughter bubbling over. "Maker, I ought to feed you come morning, you could use a few good meals. You're practically swimming in that robe."

As though even a few meals would fill him out this much. "I eat fine, Hawke," he grumbled in retort. But, for all his eye-rolling, he was somewhat endeared by the sentiment behind Hawke's teasing. It was an oddly domestic scene and Anders was loathe to admit a part of him was enjoying it.

"Sure you do. And I'm the king of Ferelden. Now come on, bed's over here." Hawke moved from his spot beside the desk to pull back the bedcovers and gestured for Anders to climb in. "So... what you said before, the thing about us sharing...?" As soon as the words fled his lips he looked mortified, as though he hadn't meant to actually ask them.

"Hawke..." Anders stared at him, brow quirked and a faint flush rising in his cheeks. "I wasn't serious about that. I just thought that's what you were saying—"

Hawke looked stricken and pale, a nervous sheen forming upon his brow. "Right. No, I know. I just... Forget it. Nevermind. Just... you can have the bed." Backing away he began to retreat towards the door. "I'll take the chaise."

"Hawke, wait." Anders laid a hand upon his shoulder before he could think better of it and, after a deep breath he exhaled with a chuckle. "Point taken, I see how you feel when I'm trying to make a break for it."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to— It wasn't that I was trying to run from you, it's just— Maker's balls, can I form a single coherent sentence?" He ran a hand down over his weary features. "Look, you're very tired and very vulnerable and a little drunk so I shouldn't have said anything. I was being an ass. And after what you told me tonight... I don't want to be another person you have to be afraid of."

Anders was silent for a moment, his hand still upon Hawke's shoulder while he mulled his words. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't reel in the scowl that darkened his features even when Hawke's expression shifted in response. He let his hand drop, though not his gaze. "What? Now that I've poured out my heart, you think I'm just going to fall apart on you? Don't make me regret opening up to you. I don't want to be treated differently because of it. I can't stand that."

Where Anders had expected more pity and floundering, he instead found relief in Hawke's expression, followed by a soft smile. "Thank the bloody Maker. You have no idea how terrible I am at the whole 'walking on eggshells' song and dance." He let out a deep, tension-breaking sigh.

"You've made that clear." His lips twitched into a brief, wry smile before returning Hawke's honesty with a bit of his own. "I appreciate you trying. Really. It’s meant the world to me to still have you here at my side after everything. I've never had a friend like you before. Maker knows what I'd do without you." He was thankful he was sobering because the more he spoke, the closer he found himself to a confession he'd rather not make.

"Probably have a lot fewer people trying to kill you," Hawke mused.

"Or a lot more. Or I'd already be ashes in the pyre. Either way, I'm glad I have you with me." He managed a half-smile, shrugging the robe further up his shoulder though it was a losing battle. "But enough of that. It's late and someone was telling me I need a solid ten hours of sleep." Stepping around Hawke, he climbed into the bed and slid beneath the covers. The sheets were sinfully comfortable—unlike anything he'd known in his clinic, the circle, or even the Keep—and his weary body was already melting into the mattress, eager for rest. A shame, then, that his mind was set to racing again as Hawke climbed in beside him.

"I assume this is back on the table then?" He asked, settling in so close Anders could feel the heat radiating from his body, smell the subtle floral of his hair as it fell and fanned half off of his pillow and half onto Anders'.

He'd forgotten the question entirely the moment it reached his ears. "Sorry?" He asked, shaking his head slightly.

"Sorry?" Hawke echoed, lids lowered groggily or perhaps even sultry as he watched Anders over the short space between them. "Are you cold? You're shaking something fierce."

Was he? He hadn't noticed, his whole body had gone stiff at Hawke's closeness and he hadn't been able to feel much of anything else since. But Hawke's fingers upon his arm were proof enough that it wasn't just a flight of fancy, that he hadn't imagined that Hawke was looking at him in such a way. "Oh," he murmured, drawing his limbs inward and willing his heart to calm. "Yes. A bit."

And it was only then that he noticed Hawke's arm moving across his pillow. His fingers were slow and steady, deliberate as they inched towards the back of his neck until Anders, unable to help himself, moved in towards the contact. He rested his cheek against Hawke's upper arm, face pressed into his shoulder as Hawke's fingers continued up and threaded into his hair, combing lightly through the loose locks. He lay still as a stone, wondering if Hawke was feeling every heavy thud of his heart, when he'd realize what he was doing and who it was he was with and recoil, but the moments ticked by and he did no such thing.

"Hawke?" He lifted his head from his arm to meet his eyes, only to find himself drowning in those warm pools of amber, the breath caught in his lungs. Anders' lips parted and the words fell forth before he could stop them: "You don't know what you're doing, what you're risking." They were the same words he'd told himself time and again, ones he'd used to distance himself from others, from temptation. Yet, there in the quiet intimacy of Hawke's bed, they sounded hollow and false. "You deserve better than the ruin I will bring you."

"Why did you come here tonight?" Hawke asked him softly. "To me. Why didn't you go to Varric? Isabela? Why didn't you go home?"

The words did not come easy, filtered through a thousand lies he wished to tell. In the end, however, he could not. Not to him. "I only feel like myself when I'm with you. Like I'm alive and can face anything. Like anything matters. Like I matter." He felt more exposed now than he had in Hawke's robe, his heart laid bare before him. Dangerous confessions they were, and yet, they tasted sweet on his tongue. "I wasn't lying when I said I didn't mean to come here. But that's worse, like my heart knew what my head couldn't."

"You speak to me like that then expect me to let you go?"

"You should," he whispered. "I can't give you what you deserve—"

"Then give me what I want," he countered, though Anders did not know which he spoke of—a night, a future—and feared asking for clarification lest it all be dashed to bits. "No... what you want. It's your call," he murmured, fingers slipping from his hair and across Anders' cheek as he withdrew his hand.

What he wanted... dare he even put words to it? A simple touch, the taste of Hawke's lips upon his own, to hear his name whispered in the dark as the morning came. These things were selfish, and yet... perhaps there was nothing so wrong with that now and again. Was it wrong to want another shoulder to share the weight of the world with? He'd been fighting alone for so long...

His body moved before he'd made any conscious decision, his eyes locked upon Hawke's mouth. He thought he saw Hawke swallow, but there was no resistance when he moved forward, no flinch of surprise. His fingers splayed across Hawke's jaw, holding him there as their lips came together in the briefest, softest contact. "Andraste, help us both... I love you, Hawke," he murmured, voice hoarse with longing. "I have not slept soundly a night since I met you because I know you'll await me in my dreams and nothing can sate the ache in me when I wake without you there."

Hawke stayed silent long enough for Anders to start counting the seconds, wondering if perhaps he'd misstepped, but he didn't need to worry long. "It felt nice. Kissing you. I liked that," Hawke said finally. A blush crept over his cheeks, just visible in the lowlight. "Kiss me more? Please?" he added, his thumb brushing the stubble along Anders' jaw. "If you're sure it's not wrong."

It was a question that deserved an answer but all he could think was 'finally', his body closing the remaining distance between them with fervent abandon. His lips sought Hawke's and were greeted with no opposition, Hawke's fingers tangling back into his hair to draw him deeper. Hawke's lips parted beneath his and Anders tasted him, tongue slipping inside and exploring him for the first time. He tasted like sunlight and summer and everything he'd been missing in life. He couldn't help the soft, breathy sighs he spilled into Hawke's lips, his fingers clutching desperately at his robe, afraid if he let go he'd wake again like always.

"Maker, Anders..." Hawke's breath shuddered over the name, his chest rising and falling heavily. "I don't know how to love you right, but I love you. I love you so much," he whispered between frantic kisses, the words Anders longed for so badly falling from those precious lips.

Hawke wanted him, loved him... Anders wanted to sob for joy, his heart filled to burst from those words. "You love me... I could ask no more of you." He was shaking again, he realized, but it was alright. Hawke seemed receptive to every trembling touch, every whimper and sigh, every unspoken request to hold Anders closer and never let him go.

Anders was all but ready to have him here and now when Hawke began to slow the pace back to something tame, drawing him back with a few pecks at his lips. Then, he released him completely and settled back onto the pillow, a faint sheen of sweat upon his brow.

"Sorry," Hawke said, his breath coming in soft pants. "We should... slow down."

Anders let out a faint sigh of his own, a flicker of disappointment igniting inside him, but he tried not to let it show. "Sorry..."

"What are you sorry for?" Hawke asked with a soft laugh, a flush rising on his cheeks as his eyes ran over Anders' face and lips, looking at him in such a way it sent his heart racing once again. "I just thought: Why disappoint you now when I could disappoint you twice as much later? And for twice as long."

"You want to later? With me?"

"Disappoint you and forever change how you look at me?" Hawke asked, a smile touching his lips. "I'd be a complete idiot to pass up that opportunity."

"I didn't mean—I mean, I'd only be let down if you weren't serious," Anders admitted, glancing away from him for a moment. "I don't want to play with your heart, but I hope you won't play with mine either. Maybe it's best you sleep on it. Before you cast your life aside, put yourself in the Chantry's sights..." He was reluctant to bring reality back into a moment so blissful, but he needed Hawke to understand. "No one has done for mages what you have done, few understand our plight like you. So you know what it's like for people like us, the risks you'd be taking for loving me. It's dangerous when you have something you are afraid to lose. They can use that against you. If the Templars hurt you for this, for me, I'd—"

"Hard to argue with that logic," Hawke cut in, waving him into silence. "In that case, I suppose I'd better tell Mother to find a new place. And I'll leave Marian near the road in a crate marked 'for free'... assuming I can find one her size. And Dog is probably smart enough to make his own way, he already loves to eat rubbish so I'm sure he'll manage."

"Excuse me?" Anders asked, blinking owlishly.

"Wouldn't want the Templars coming for anyone I love so it's best I put them out first, right?" He gave him a light, knowing smile that belied his deadpan delivery.

Heat crept to his cheeks and realization struck, a twinge of embarrassment coursing through him. "Well when you say it like that it sounds ridiculous."

"Praise the Maker, you're catching on." He cupped Anders' jaw, running a thumb lightly across his lip. "Let them try to take you from me."

He shivered at the promise, the protective gleam in Hawke's eye. "You really mean that." It wasn't a question, he could read the conviction in his face. "Thank you."

"Will you sleep now?" He asked, shifting closer to him to tuck his face into the crook of his neck, his beard scratching pleasantly at the tender skin. "It's less awkward if we both go instead of me snoring in the middle of you pouring your heart out."

"Yes, love." It felt nice upon his tongue, natural and right as though it had always been waiting there.

"Mmm, that sounds nice." Hawke pressed a chaste peck to the corner of his jaw and he could feel his smile there. "Sweet dreams."

"Goodnight," he said softly back, wrapping his arms around his love. He listened as Hawke's breathing slowed and steadied as he fell to slumber. He almost didn't want to join him, he wanted to bask in this moment forever.

The day's troubles felt worlds away and the ones yet to come no longer loomed so large. Even the thought of that smug prick was more an afterthought than an outrage in Hawke's arms. What did that arrogant prince know anyway? He surely lay alone in the Chantry cots wrapped safely in his ignorance, willfully unaware of the world and its cruelties. To live such a lie and remain on a high horse seemed a pathetic existence, one Anders did not envy despite all he had to witness and endure. Though he—Justice—had his reservations, Anders knew this was no distraction. Hawke had proven himself worthy and then some, risked and suffered for the rights of all mages; Sebastian would continue to grope around in the darkness he chose while the brightest light in Kirkwall had his lips to Anders' neck. He felt vindicated. And tired...

He let his eyes fall shut, Hawke's warmth and scent enveloping him. If he was still dreaming, he hoped he could stay like this just a little longer.

[practically-an-x-man]

Icarus Drowned (Rae x Warren)

Summary: In the thick of the zombie apocalypse, Warren is bitten and turned - but Rae can't bear to let that be the end, and with his healing factor and chemical stimpacks, he's kept in a sort of stasis. Will it be enough to keep him around? Will it be enough to create a cure?

Word Count: 4.4k

Tags: zombie apocalypse AU, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, medical themes, emetophobia, body horror, established relationship

Crossposted on AO3

____

Rae stood in front of the cell, peering through the window at the creature inside.

Stained, gnashing teeth. A body, once brawny but slowly withering, straining in the direction of the window. A shackle around one ankle, ringed with torn but bloodless grey flesh, attached to a chain that kept the creature secured against the wall.

Tattered wings, dropping more feathers every day. Green eyes, once bright and laughing but now faded, glassy, filled only with mindless hunger. Once-gentle hands now endlessly reaching, straining for the glass and the woman that stood on the other side.

Those hands had once held her close on sleepless nights, traced every inch of her skin in reverence. That mouth that snarled and raved had once spoken so softly to her, told her of love and future in early-morning whispers and promised her the world as she fell asleep at night. Those wings now bent and broken were once lush, and had blanketed her like a shield against the harms of life.

Warren lurched within his cell, his wings sweeping low from the momentum. There, on the bridge of the right side, was a ringlet of dark, deep marks, vivid against the pale feathers that surrounded it. The bite. The moment that had ended it all, when her shields had finally given out and left his wings as the only barrier between them and the horde.

Just thinking about it made her want to sob. It wasn't any better to think of what had come after: the way he'd faded, the choice to place him in the cell, the sight of a cure that wasn't really a cure at all.

"I know it's early," Rae mumbled, unable to tear her eyes away from what was inside the cell, "But I need him. Please?"

"The more often I do this, the more he'll start building a tolerance to it," Hank warned her, his voice tinny and hard to decipher as it came through the intercom system. The speakers cut out a moment later, but her mind filled in the gaps all the same: the more likely it'll stop working. The more likely you won't get him back.

The usual schedule was once a week, and each stim only granted him a few minutes of clarity before he faded again. It was agony.

But it would be infinitely worse to lose him entirely. Those precious few minutes, even if they only delayed the inevitable, were the only thing holding her together.

"I know, but..." she trailed off. She didn't have an explanation for this one, why she was standing here two days early and torturing herself with the sight of him. But something had struck her early in the morning, something halfway between yearning and grief as she woke up once again to a cold, empty bed, and she didn't see how she could survive the day without him.

The pain ebbed and flowed like the tide, but it never truly left. And today was fit to be a tsunami.

"Please, Hank. I'll stay on schedule the rest of the week, with the two extra days and all. But right now I... I just need him."

She heard him sigh - clearly intentional, she heard it crackle over the speakers and knew he must have activated the microphone just to express his disapproval - but didn't make any more efforts to dissuade her. He must have known by now that it wouldn't work.

There came a hissing sound from the far corner of the cell, and a thick white vapor came pouring in through the vents. It clouded the room as it spread, but Rae could still see the way Warren's hunched form first went rigid, and then how the tension in his muscles finally released. The shackle around his ankle popped open automatically, and Rae watched through the fog as the skin began to knit back together.

Warren's chest began to move, first in twitches - as if remembering how to breathe at all - and then in strong, heaving breaths to take in as much of the vapor as he could. His posture had gone loose, weary but familiar, though his face was hidden beneath the fog.

His healing factor was strong. Not strong enough to hold back the virus... at least, not without a boost. That was what the stims were for: a jump-start, a way to spur his body into healing and grant him at least a few minutes of clarity.

It wouldn't have worked on a different mutant. It wouldn't have worked on Rae, if their positions were reversed. It was only with the strength of his natural regeneration that it worked at all... and even then, barely.

The vapor finally cleared from the room, followed by a second hiss - this one a spray of strong disinfectant, to prevent any accidental transfer of the virus while it was kept at bay.

Warren waited for the spray to end, then calmly stepped up to the glass.

His skin no longer held that grayish death-cast, though it still appeared sallow and thin like it would tear under the slightest pressure. The sunken patches of early-stage rot on his face and arms had mended, replaced with shiny pink flesh like the beginnings of a scar. His eyes were tired, like simply existing in that other form was exhausting for him, but at least they were clear and alert.

"Hey, baby," he murmured, his voice hoarse from days of mindless growling, "It's early, isn't it?"

Rae nodded, momentarily too swallowed by emotion to speak, and pressed her palm to the glass in front of her. Warren's hand joined it on the other side. She imagined she could feel it warming the glass, but she knew he hadn't given off heat in weeks. It was her own body that gave it that illusion. It was hard even to pretend things could be normal.

"I know, it is, but I just..." she managed, struggling to hold back her tears, "Today's a bad one. I needed to see you."

"Alright," he said, and shot her an all-too-familiar half-smile, "You're seeing me now."

She let out a fractured laugh, amazed he could still cling to his sense of humor through all of this (or maybe he wasn't, maybe he was going through the motions, but at least that made him a damn good pretender), and pressed her forehead to the glass. It wasn't enough.

"I'm coming in," she decided, already moving for the door.

That earned her a chorus of protests, both from inside the cell and from the shriek of the intercom - it's dangerous, if you're caught there when the stim wears off, if he gets overwhelmed, if the virus contaminated the room - but Rae couldn't be dissuaded. Impulsivity was her vice, and always had been, but right now she'd have taken any risk for a moment in his arms.

The door let out a pressurized hiss as she entered, and Rae was sprayed with the same disinfectant that had filled the room a minute earlier- this time to prevent the introduction of new viruses more than the escape of the original. It doused her hair and stung her eyes, filled her nose with a harsh medicinal tang, but she hardly noticed.

For all his initial protests of her entering the room, Warren didn't hesitate to pull her into his arms once she reached him. After all, the risk was the same either way: whether across the room or held close, sharing space was sharing space. She'd leave before the stim began to fade, she'd be careful enough for that, but for now...

He enveloped her in his wings, holding her like he'd once done on so many nights, and pressed kiss after kiss to her neck, her cheek, her forehead- but not the lips, that was one risk she knew he wasn't willing to take. There was barely a pulse in Warren's chest, and his skin felt cool where it touched her own. But he was here. For just a few more minutes, he was here.

"I'm so sorry," Rae found herself mumbling, the words muffled against the ragged fabric of his shirt, "For everything. This never should have happened."

"It'll be okay." Warren replied. There was something false about the conviction in his voice. He was as scared as she was. "We'll be okay. I'm not gone yet."

He exhaled a long, shaky breath, then ducked to press one more firm kiss to her temple.

"Love," he said, "Time to go."

Rae nodded - much as she longed to stay in his arms a while longer, she knew the stim had to be wearing off - and forced herself to step back from him. It was a short but mournful walk out of the cell.

She meant to leave, then. It was always painful to watch him fade again. But she couldn't help herself. Safe again behind the pane of glass, she couldn't make herself look away as those few bright moments trickled away.

First Warren crossed the room and bolted the shackle back around his own ankle, securing himself against the wall while he still had the capacity to do so. Then he sat himself down, propped up against the wall, and lifted his eyes to the window. His body had already begun to tremble, and there was a fog creeping into his eyes.

"I love you," he said, "Always will."

Rae echoed the words automatically, but she wasn't sure if they reached him. The light in his eyes continued to fade, and the placid expression on his face began to twist into something sharper. His fingers curled inwards, and he lifted his head as if testing the air. Even behind the glass, she had the sense that he could smell her.

She left before he could begin to snarl.

____

The shackle must have gotten jammed.

It all happened so fast. She'd come in to visit him - not for a stim, that was still three days away, just for the sake of being there - and Warren, mindless and hungry, strained against his chain as soon as she stepped behind the glass. Whether from sight or from smell, or some combination of both, he was locked on her as soon as she arrived. There was absolutely nothing behind his eyes.

He gave another full-body lurch, stopped by the chain that secured him to the wall-

But the shackle popped open.

Maybe the hinge was worn out from so much constant strain. Maybe it hadn't gotten locked properly the last time it had been secured. Maybe it was just bad luck.

With his momentum freed, Warren first stumbled and hit the floor. He jammed his wrist hard, and Rae heard a snap like a dry twig. It didn't even slow him down.

He slammed into the glass with his full weight - it wavered but didn't break. But then came a second full-body slam, and the spur of his wing buried itself deep in the glass. Shards spilled across the room, tearing gashes through Warren's gray crepe-paper skin.

Rae staggered back, lifting her arms to raise a shield around her, but she was disoriented and bewildered and could hardly think as she was slammed to the ground.

Warren's hollow bones made him lighter than most men his size, and he'd been withering in a cell for weeks now. But he also felt no pain, no reservations, and he held nothing back as he pressed her into the floor. Shards of broken glass cut into Rae's back and pierced her skin as she writhed to escape.

She remembered her mutation half a second later, and silver light bloomed around her hands as she tried in vain to shove Warren away from her. His teeth snapped inches from her face, swallowed by a blind animal hunger.

"Warren-" she gasped, though she doubted he could hear her and knew he couldn't stop himself even if he did. His fingernails dug into her shoulders hard enough to leave bruises. He lunged in and nearly took a chunk out of her throat, stopped only by the gleam of a second shield.

Finally the vents began to hiss, and white fog flooded the room. Rae twisted, driving her knee into Warren's gut - he wouldn't feel it, but it would force the air out of his lungs, force him to inhale the stim vapor, force him to return to himself.

He took a great, choking breath, and his grip loosened around her shoulders. Life bloomed behind his eyes- along with a torrent of guilt. Rae watched the tears in his skin begin to mend, bloodless, as he slid away from her.

"I-" he started, staring wide-eyed at her, "Are you okay?"

Rae took a deep breath herself, felt the pain begin to numb and her wounds begin to clot as the stim jump-started her own healing factor. It was nothing she couldn't deal with, especially now that the gashes were already beginning to mend.

But emotionally?

That had gotten closer than it should have. And she couldn't get the sight of him out of her head. The lifeless eyes, the mindless hunger, the way he'd come inches from tearing her throat with his teeth like a feral animal.

"I'm fine."

Warren frowned, clearly not believing her, but apparently decided against an argument. He still held one hand against his body, wrist twisted in a funny way.

"Does it hurt?" Rae asked, simultaneously concerned for him and grateful for the change of subject. Warren looked at the wound distantly, hardly seeming even to notice it, and offered her a one-sided shrug.

"Don't feel much of anything anymore."

She couldn't help but notice what the stim had done for him; more accurately, what it hadn't done. The patches of decay had receded but not fully mended. The hollows under his eyes and cheeks seemed more prominent than they should have been, and there were stark ridges of bone at his temples. He'd continued to lose feathers, and his hair was thin and brittle.

The longer he went without a stim, the more he began to rot. But the more time he spent on the stims, the more likely they'd lose effect. It was a war of attrition, slipping from her fingers one grain of sand at a time, and Rae wasn't sure how much longer she could bear it.

Sometimes she wondered if it would be better just to purge the schedule entirely, to push the stims until they stopped working and deal with the consequences later.

But it was better this way. For all the agony, it was better this way. Maybe one of these days they'd find a real cure.

Rae didn't realize how much she'd retreated until Warren reached for her hand and squeezed it.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. Rae opened her mouth to reply, but he wasn't done. "It used to be, I would recognize you. Standing out there. Couldn't talk to you, and knew things would get bad if you came inside, but... I could see you."

She remembered those days. He would stand there in the cell, not moving, not snarling or gnashing his teeth as he now would, just... stagnant. And she would stand on the other side of the glass and speak to him, not knowing if any of the words would reach him but refusing to let his presence fade from her life.

"And now I... I want to, but-" Warren huffed, his face twisting in a grimace, "I still see you standing out there, and there's a part of me that knows it's you, but it just gets so foggy."

Rae had the sense that it was worse than what he said. He was mincing his words for her sake. Maybe those thoughts had faded entirely, and there wasn't any part of him that still saw her when he was sunken under the virus. Maybe any figure behind the glass, whether her or anybody else, was only processed as prey, as food, as a brain within a skull.

Warren shuddered, like a sudden chill had gone down his spine, and let out a deep sigh. He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it, then let go.

"Go grab Hank," he muttered, that note of mourning now back in his voice, "Before it wears off."

Rae stood as he asked, though she couldn't chase the thoughts from her mind. This seemed... soon. He should have had another ten minutes, maybe more.

Was that simple caution?

Or were the stims losing their potency?

How close was she to losing him entirely?

____

Time was up.

More accurately, it had been up for three days now. That was when the stims had first stopped working. The fog spilled in, the disinfectant sprayed, and in the end Warren was still left dead-eyed and raving. Nothing would bring him back.

The past three days had instead been devoted to a battery of tests, at Hank's insistence. Warren was strapped to a gurney, secured by every limb and with a band to hold his head against the pillow. Hank had wanted a gag too, just to be safe, but then decided it was safer not to have his airway blocked - not that Warren was breathing.

His heartbeat came and went, but never peaked above twenty beats per minute. His blood was black and thick and sluggish. His skin was gray and would tear at the slightest touch. His wings had lost all but a few stubborn feathers. When Rae reached to run her fingers through his hair, a habit from a time she now feared had passed her by, it came up from his scalp in chunks.

But still she sat at his side, unable to give up hope yet. She'd stayed with him through the worst points in their lives, through all manner of agonies. She wouldn't leave him until there were no other options.

"Is there anything else you can do?" Rae asked, watching Hank flurry around with his umpteenth test, "Before...?"

Before you decide there's really nothing left? Before I have to let him go for good?

Hank paused to look at her directly, his fingers fidgeting with the stethoscope around his neck. He opened his mouth and closed it several times without speaking. For a moment, Rae thought he'd just drop it entirely, pretend she hadn't spoken and go on with his tests.

"There's... one thing I've been working on," he finally admitted, "He's given me some good information to work with."

Well, if that wasn't an awfully polite way to word it. Even at his best, Warren had allowed Hank's tests because he wanted a cure for himself. Now, she was sure he didn't know he was being examined at all. He was strapped to a table, poked and prodded, no more aware of himself than a dog recognized its own reflection.

"But?"

"But I'm not sure it's ready," Hank said, "Or... if it'll ever be ready. And if this fails, I doubt there's anything I can do to bring him back."

Rae took a moment to process this. It was a risk, sure. Anything was a risk. The stims had been a delay, but the virus was inevitable. If this didn't work, that was the end.

The end was coming anyway. It wouldn't be long before his heart stopped entirely, before he lost whatever he had left and was animated only by the virus. At best, a failed cure meant the loss of a few days, and those days hardly mattered when he was so outside himself.

There was nothing left to lose.

"Do it," Rae told him, but couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes, "If nothing else, it'll... it'll give you an idea about the next prototype."

Hank went still, the silence undercut by a weak moan from the man in the bed. It sounded like he was in pain. Rae knew by now that he wasn't, that he wasn't aware of anything at all, but she still reached to set a hand on his arm. His skin was cold and dry under her palm. Hank cleared his throat.

"I'll go get it prepared."

He left the room, and Rae found herself surrounded by the mechanical beeps of medical devices and a chorus of the same low, pained noises from Warren. His muscles strained towards her, trying in vain to reach her hand where it lay against his arm, but the straps held him firmly in place.

"I don't know if any part of you can still hear me," Rae mumbled, trying her best to ignore the blank, glassy look in his eyes, "I don't know if you even know I'm here. But... Hank's going to give you something, and I need it to work. I need you to come back to me. So if there's... if there's anything in there that can still hear me, I need you to fight for me. I need you to try. I- I can't lose you yet."

Warren gave no sign that he heard her at all. His eyes flashed briefly up to hers when she began to speak, but only in the same way that a deer would stare at a sudden flash of light. Then he returned to straining against his straps, heedless to her words.

Hank returned soon enough, this time wielding a large syringe. He didn't waste time on speaking, merely fixed the syringe at Warren's elbow - Rae averted her eyes, unable to stand the way his skin peeled away from the needle - and pressed the plunger.

After only a moment, Warren's movements slowed. His eyes fell shut, and the heart monitor at his side crept from twenty to ten to zero. Rae swore her heart stopped with it. His body was as still as death- real death.

She wasn't ready.

"I thought you said it-"

"I don't know. I didn't expect this response," Hank said, clearly as rattled as she was, "I thought-"

Warren took a harsh, dusty-sounding breath, his whole body straining against the straps that held him to the bed. His heart rate spiked, bouncing all over the place: forty to a hundred-twenty to ninety to nothing before finally stabilizing at a healthy-looking sixty-four. His blood pressure cavorted around in the same way, numbers flashing wildly across the screen before settling somewhere near normal- if a little low.

His body jolted again, this time accompanied by a choking sound from low in his throat. Hank burst into motion all at once, releasing the bindings from around Warren's head and chest.

"The straps," he said with a jerk of his chin, spurring Rae out of her seat. She'd hardly gotten the straps released when Warren's whole body shuddered, curling over himself with another weak, nauseous sound. Hank stuck an emesis bucket under his mouth just in time for Warren to vomit something dark and thick into it.

Even Hank looked disgusted at that little display, though he stuck a lid on the bucket and set it on a table behind him - surely for some form of study later on. His eyes were focused and intense, taking in every detail of this new surge. Cure or curse, neither of them were sure, but it was something new indeed.

Beneath the shudders that racked his body, Rae could see a shift passing over Warren's skin. The many wounds and spots of decay sealed over, filled instead with patches of shiny scar tissue. Under Rae's palm, she felt his skin soften and warm, watched it bloom pink with the renewed flow of blood.

There came a second choking sound, and this time Hank barely supplied the emesis bucket in time. The first had been compulsive; this one just looked painful. In a strange way, Rae found that encouraging - pain was more than he'd felt in weeks. She set her palm on Warren's back and rubbed circles over the space between his tattered wings, finding a fresh spark of hope when he leaned into the touch.

His head lifted, and his green eyes scanned the room. He seemed oddly sedate, like he'd been woken from a deep sleep, but there was a life behind his eyes that Rae hadn't seen in days.

"Brought..." he mumbled, harsh and halting like he had to remember how to form the words, "Brought me back? Rae?"

"I'm here, baby," she said, still running her palm over his back, "How do you feel?"

"Hm." Warren mumbled, and then his eyes found her at his side. The faintest smile twitched at his lips. "Not dead. Tired, but... not dead."

Rae passed her fingers through his hair - still thin, still brittle, but thankfully none of it came up from his scalp. Part of her was anxious, waiting for the rebound, expecting that any moment he'd fade back to gray and begin convulsing and snarling once again.

But that was a very small part, and it was placated by the ease in Warren's expression. She knew that look in his eyes. She'd seen it time and time again, after Cairo, after he got his wings back. That was the look of a man who didn't have to fight for his own mind. He hadn't worn that expression since he was bitten, stims or not.

"And you're not going to try and rip my throat out if I kiss you?" she asked, succeeding in drawing another weary smile from him.

"God, I hope not."

For Hank, this was some form of medical marvel: the incurable plague being cured for the first time. More research would be done from here, and Warren would have recovery and therapy of his own to shoulder after the virus had ravaged his body and mind. And there came the question of replicating the cure, perhaps spreading it to other mutants - how much had Warren's extensive healing factor played a role? Could a cure be devised for mutants without the same crutch? And what of the time frame, the window of opportunity?

Rae, on the other hand, didn't have a single thought towards the larger implications of this. Not yet. That would come later, by days or more, when the enormity of it all had finally sunken in. She would wake up beside Warren for the first time in weeks, trace those new rot-scars or feel the buds of new feathers coming in to replace those that had fallen out, and only then would she realize the gravity of what that cure had done.

For now, though, her only thought was of him.

[they-reap-what-we-sow]

20 questions for writers

thank you for the tag @fanfictiongreenirises I finally managed to finish a tag game!!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

168- with 44 podfics and the rest are regular fics!

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

346,848. unfathomable number who is she where did she come from

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Batman (Batfam) my love my life, but 9-1-1 is a close second with one-offs for a lot of my other passing interests.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Floppy Bird - crack fic that was meant to be an angst fic that I never understood why people liked so much asfhjs

cocoa on a cold night - a classic timby holiday fic that I wrote in the middle of summer, talk about environmental storytelling

secrets un(revealed) - the only purposeful long fic I've ever written, and also the most trope mashing I've ever done with reverse robins, magical realism au, and delicious delicious miscommunications (in my head the only fic that deserves to be in the top five :wheeze: )

Eggshells - vent fic alert !! very embarrassing that people like this I try not to think about it ":)

taking the blade (for you and yours) - a round robin fic written with the server and CHOCK full of Damian suffering.

5. Do you respond to comments?

NO PICTURES. NO COMMENT. I DONT KNOW HOW TO READ.

no jk jk I really really try to but once I start getting behind it's just a whole spiral. these days I have a better chance of replying to a comment on an old fic than a brand new one because I dont want leave them half replied

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

any of my death fics probably? I think with DC a death is a little more inconsequential than other fandoms just because of how often it's unpermanent, so as a concrete answer, I'll say for you (i would cross the line). nothing quite like parental grief.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

happy ending wink-wonk or XD

probably Who The Hell Is Red Hood? - I've done things there with growth and healing that DC HQ would shudder to imagine

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not regularly, thank everything, but the one controversial three-some I posted needed comment regulation lmao

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes and uh, the kinky kind? idk take a look for yourselves I guess

10. Do you write crossovers?

Yes, and they're ALWAYS unserious- Buck from 9-1-1 dating Emma from Friends (yes Ross and Rachel's kid) anyone?

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Uh, not by a person? as far as I know? but I have found my fic on those like, document websites??? which is weird lmao just read them on your phones guys not everything needs to be uploaded

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

nope!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

weee yes! round robin my beloved, and also every fic @canonicallyshort and I have written in our threads. those count. to me. emotionally.

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

I WILL GO DOWN WITH MY MULTISHIP (which really means I'm never going down at all) but really I dont think I will ever get over Merthur... or Buddie... or- you see what I mean?

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you will?

oh god I have so many wip that I am holding out hope for but my biggest WIP is an unpublished hellhole affectionately entitled "Death Pit" by everyone who is working on it- most notably because it features a literal Death Pit, every horror, angst, whump, and trauma trope you can think of, and a cast of characters and a plot thread so long we have 20+ page outline documents that aren't even fully updated... I shudder to think what will become of it one day, I imagine sentience isn't very far off

16. What are your writing strengths?

why is this an interview question. I dont know my strengths really?? um. I have good ideas, that one I'll say. execution is a different story (likely one that will never get told. like the rest of my good ideas)

I also think I do fairly well with scene descriptors. I really like to set a scene because I'm seeing a movie in my head and you all should too!

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I'm down to clown globally! I dont like to use google translate though, so if im writing in another language it's only because SOMEONE on the server is a native speaker and can vouch for my text.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

oh god one direction. head in hands. it was an 'adopted by 1d' fic that I made my mom beta, and turned it in to my 6th grade English teacher as my creative writing assignment. then I made a poem about it. then I wrote a song about it. thankfully it never got published and is trapped in the cursed purple file folder it was 'hidden' in since 7th grade. my first published fic was almost 7 years later with a Gomens fic!

20. Favourite fic you've written?

AHh um. favorite child scene here, but top contenders include: lithium + 5 for its graphic design and medical accuracy, fiery veins on speechless days for its emotional whump that makes me hurt every time I reread it, [PODFIC] wither on the shore which is not a fic I wrote but one of my favorite podfics of @silk-scarlet-ribbons 's works.

tagging (if you wish to participate!) @canonicallyshort @silverandsunflowers @selkienight60 @crows-murder

[mlmshark]

Introduction to Mlmshark

Info:

Oliver, 17 yrs, trans male, gay/vincian, taken <3

This is my account where I ramble about being gay and talk about my experiences as a queer man

DMs are open, I’d love to chat

And now because apparently I have to add this:

‼️PROSHIP AND RADQUEER DNI‼️

This isn't an nsfw account, but it is 17+ so I can be more mature without worrying about younger followers like I have on my other accounts

Fanfic acc: @sharkboywrites (dead) art acc @sharkboyoli

I will give out my discord, but only to mutuals who ask

more info below, including boundaries please read before sending messages

This is an mlm blog

The labels I use/are comfortable with are trans man, transmasc, gay, vincian, achillean, aroace, aromantic, greyromantic (more specific way of describing my romantic attraction) and asexual

I am autistic (maybe, I got tested and my results were inconclusive so I’m not sure what to make of that). My special interests are genshin impact and horror media (please talk to me about them PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE)

My pronouns are strictly he/him, but I'm not sure about neos, feel free to use them on me it doesn't bother me

Anyone can interact regardless of sexuality or gender identity, I prefer the people who are my mutuals to be 17+, but younger people can like my posts and ask me questions. I won't follow back anyone under 17.

The main point of this account is to have somewhere to talk about being gay and find more gay people to have a community with it.

For a long time and even sometimes to this day I've been shamed for my identity, so I want my own space to be an openly gay trans man with no hate and find other people in my community. I'm also still exploring myself and the world as a trans man, despite being out for six years, and this is my space to talk about it.

Boundaries

No proshippers, radqueers, zoophiles, etc.

No racism or ablesim, this is a space for all gay men/nblm regardless

My mutuals need to be 17 or older, I may be more mature at times, but not to the point of full nsfw

Do not send me nsfw asks unless they're questions about the queer experience ( for ex. asking about my experience, how to know, about my asexuality, and life as a gay/trans man are fine)

Don't send me/tag me in nsfw posts

Don't try to be homophobic or transphobic, I'll just block you

No shaming me or other people for liking men, even if you're also queer

Don't come onto my posts complaining about how you hate men

Don't try to compare my experiences with other queer people/try to make it the oppression Olympics

Don't complain to me about gay labels or flags

Don't try to invalidate anyone who interacts with this account that identifies as gay, even if you think they don't count (transmasc gay, tranfem gay, genderfluid gay, etc.)

Generally don't bring any discourse

You're free to vent in my asks if it's related to being gay or transgender, this account is for people to find community, just try not to make people uncomfortable

Don't call me the f or t slur unless you know I'm okay with it, even when I call myself it

As you can tell, this is mostly an nsfw neutral account, I'm okay with talking about it in the non- horny sense or now. this acc may be more open to it as time goes on (probably as I get older and experience more things), but for now: no <3

That's it, feel free to interact, i'd love to find some gay people in the community that I can ramble with and be a man kisser with :)

[wanderingmind867]

I am half tempted to send some of my mutuals asks where i ask them if they've seen my latest posts. I think I'd feel guilty doing it, but that doesn't necessarily mean i won't do it. It just means that i'll feel like a jerk doing it, and it may fuel my desire to make a post where I discuss how I feel social media can be bad for me (i keep wanting to make that post, but i never can bring myself to make it). But if i'm so concerned that i'm overtraining it all this badly, why not cut out the middleman? I'm just gonna tag three of my mutuals, i'll say some stuff that'll make me want to run to another tab (like a chatbot site or a tierlist site or something), and then we'll go from there:

Now, Warning: The things I say might end up sounding awkward, rude, or any number of any negative ways. I don't mean it in those ways. I feel bad enough about making this stupid post, but i'm doing it anyways.

@ihauntmyhouse @thewordsmith3 @yourfriendlyneighbourhoodaries the three of you are sort of like a trio, in a weird way: i followed you all at one point because you had a period where you really engaged with my posts. And unlike some other blogs i engaged with (where I never followed them back or we drifted apart due to diverging interests in my 2+ years on here), i have always unfollowed and refolllowed you to keep you near the top of my following count. I don't know why anymore. Habit, maybe? A desire to ensure people focus on me (that makes me sound like a narcissist, which i really don't feel like i am. But that goes back to me wondering if social media is good for me)? A simple matter of me being lazy and sedentary and not liking the aesthetics if different people at the top of the count?

The point of that giant text block is: I don't know why i'm like this online. That's really all i needed to say, but i rambled. And since i haven't seen your blogs in my activity log lately (and since my brain is pressuring me over thinking my posts don't get enough attention), I needed to make this post and ensure you still see me. Maybe that's feeding this too; a fear of being forgotten or something. Considering my only friend irl is my dad (who i'm super dependent on) and i've been suffering existential issues, it could be a fear of being forgotten.

I hate reposting this, but i've made like 20 posts today and yesterday, and I feel like I haven't seen the three of you in my activity lately. I probably shouldn't be so insecure about things like this (i know my personal sense of satisfaction shouldn't come from seeing certain people doing something as minor as liking my stuff online), but I can't help myself. Especially since I feel like a lot of my posts have been vent posts have been really important to me lately, or whatever i suppose you'd call it.

[wilsons-limped-husband]

As I saw others do

And so preper for the doom

✨Facts about me (a lifeless writer)✨

Name Gregory James but I also go by William and Tyler (or for fun jimmeh)

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Nationality: Romanian

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MBTI: INFJ

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I'm a transmasc, queer (I'm just confused), grey-aromantic

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Pronouns: he/him

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Sports I practice: figure skating

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Fandoms: Sherlock, HouseMD and Star Trek, Hamilton (both the historical and the musical), Stargate:Atlantis, Dead poets Society

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The ships I ship: Too many to count

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Fave colors: grey, white, black

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Bored most of the time so I'll either reblog, post hella random thoughts or just exist and piss of everyone

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I have a House ask blog (go check it out) : @ask-dr-lawsuit-magnet

And a Moran (from Sherlock) ask blog:

@consult-sebmoran

And a writing side blog:

@a-world-with-many-words

And a side blog for nothing on my tablet

@startrekker2011

I also have a vent blog (plz don't look at it):

@suicide-tendencies-perry

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My moots (tell me if you want to be removed):

@asclexe

@h0l0gramglasses

@maybemoltenlava

@fangirlshipper

@deanbane

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Random shit 'bout me

My Spotify

⭐️ alone only child, please talk to me i love chatting

⭐ I'm a sad theater kid 😭😭

⭐️professional idiot, certified yapper

⭐pulled so many suicide moves I'm starting to think I need therapy, but I won't tell anyone about them

⭐I realized I was trans when I was 2 or 3 years old (how the hell, don't ask)

⭐Actual writer (writing my second book but, shhh)

⭐I'm bored like always and I have a lot of free time in my hands

⭐I'm 170cm (I think this means 5'8")

⭐I'm constantly wearing headphones so please don't take offense if I'm wearing a pair when I'm talking to you. I just want to cancel some of the noise that's around, not you ml

⭐ my tag for my stuff: #greg j. rambles , #greg j. answers #silly 🥝 , #pinga

⭐ if I don't answer your ask, it means I like it a lot and want to keep it as a memory but I usually do

If you got here you should know that I sign my anon messages with:

-T.

(Shhh.🤫)