#stress management in combat

[frogatz]

old house had year round ant infestation new house has biweekly Giant spiders the world is my oyster

[watcherscrown]

i found out like LAST WEEK that bg3 is turn based so now i might actually play it

[missjhenz]

Combating Stress During The Holidays: 6 Easy Strategies

The holiday period is around the corner and, undoubtedly, this should be a time of the year dedicated to relaxation and socialization. However, if you have found yourself feeling stressed about the large number of events ahead, or you are struggling to meet the last deadlines of the year, you are certainly not alone.      Christmas can feel overwhelming, leading to feelings of anxiety and…

[historyofguns]

The article "Shooting from Cover — The Key to Gunfight Survival?" by GunSpot, published on The Armory Life, emphasizes the critical importance of using cover effectively during a firefight. It highlights the distinction between "cover" and "concealment" and introduces techniques like "slicing the pie" for safely engaging threats without exposing oneself. The article also features insights from Grant LaVelle, a seasoned SWAT team member, who underscores keeping a safe distance from cover to minimize bodily exposure while shooting. The piece stresses seeking professional firearms training beyond the concepts discussed and encourages practical drills under controlled conditions. The article is bolstered by visual examples of tactical positioning behind cover, advocating realistic practice in environments that simulate real-world obstacles. Overall, it serves as a practical guide on enhancing survivability during armed confrontations.

[yuvany]

꒰ 🥊 ꒱ ENHYPEN IN THE RING

// ENHYPEN as boxers and you're their number one prize.

─── ( on point ) OT7 x female reader contains : fluff + violence mentioned + pet names + est relationship + cameras + boxing!au + non!idol enha + not proofread 887 wc

reblogs + feedback always appreciated !!

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚

Being in the boxing ring felt natural to him, but to you, it just felt as if you were praying for Heeseung to be alright every time he fought someone bigger than him. You didn't worry too much as you knew how talented he was and how he managed to beat people who mocked him for him size. Seeing someone fall to the ground never felt this relieving. You rushed up and enveloped his face in between your palms as you pressed a kiss to his lips for his victory. "Worried? For me?" He asks when you both are on your way home. "Yeah, what if you got really hurt?" You said, fidgeting with your thumbs, avoiding his gaze. "I'll be alright, yeah? I wouldn't want to worry you." Heeseung takes your hand in his.

(rest of the memebers below the cut)

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚

always worried what you thought of him doing this sport. He knew the dangers of this sport, and he knew that he could get injured really badly, but something always pushed him to continue. Maybe it was the adrenaline rush. During matches, he'd always contemplate if he should quit or not after seeing other boxers bleed from their noses while being knocked out. That anxiousness quickly disperse as he sees you in the crowd, jumping and cheering his name. He puts on a smile for you. Some time later, Jay asked, "what do you think of me doing boxing?" You take a moment to think before answering, "I'm really happy that you're doing something you like, and I'll always support you." You reassure with a kiss to his cheek.

𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗬𝗨𝗡

He adores the comforting speeches you give him before each match. How they always manage to calm him down when his nerves were playing a trick on him. "baby, I'm nervous." Jake says, his hands clutching to your side, not wanting to part from your closeness while his coach is urging him to hurry up. "Why are you so stressed, Jakey? We both know how awsome you'll be. Just go and do what you love." You say, slowly walking towards the ring so that he can jump in. Jake sighs and hums at your words. "You'll be watching, right?" He asks, his puppy eyes gleaming under the bright stadium lights. "Of course." You say, patting his back before you shoo him inside.

𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙆 𝙎𝙐𝙉𝙂𝙃𝙊𝙊𝙉

Sunghoon loves showing you off to everyone just as much as you love cheering him on. Post-match, you'd be the first person he'd run over to as the cameras pan over to the couple. He doesn't care about what anyone says or sees, and instead he presses his lips to your face over and over again making sure that the camera and audience does not miss his love for you. Sunghoon is a firm believer that your love is worth more than any prize he'll ever win in his boxing career. After each match he'd win, the internet would be flooded by news making headlines of you and him, which always managed to put a smile on your face.

𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗢𝗢

Sunoo didn't brag about his wins, even though he had a swelling ego, he was humble. Before each match, he'd wrap his arms around you, his head snuggled against your shoulder as you pat his back, urging him to let go and get ready for the fight, "Sunsun, it's time to go now." He doesn't let go and you just sigh. "Promise me that we'll go on a date later." He compromises, and you easily agree to it, because it's a date? While in the ring, you cheer the loudest, and he hears you since you're standing in the first row, but when the match is over and he is the clear winner, he doesn't hesitate to shoot you a quick wink.

𝗬𝗔𝗡𝗚 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗪𝗢𝗡

You loved watching him combat his friends during practice, but when it was time for the competition, you were starting to feel a bit anxious - your heart beating like a drum against your chest. You whisper a soft "good luck," before he gives you a bright smile and climed into the fighting arena. You watched with dread filling you up, and all you cared for was his safety. Seeing him get hit, you jump out of your seat with your palms hovering over your agape mouth that opened due to shock. You try to reassure yourself that he'd be okay, and luckily he was. "You really gave me a scare!" You lightly hit his shoulder, and he just pulled you against his chest.

𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗠𝗨𝗥𝗔 𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗜

You honestly didn't worry too much about him when he fought. Riki is a strong person, both physically and mentally. While he speaks to his coach during break time, Riki wraps one arm around your shoulders lazily as he leans his body against yours. You can hear his short breaths due to exhaustion, but you don't pull away, even though he is sweating. With a nod, there is little time left to spend and he presses a kiss to your head before he rushes back inside. When he wins, he runs over to you with a bright smile as cameras are aimed at him. One interviewer shouts, "What do you think of the prize you're winning." "What do you mean? I've got her right here!" He shouts back as he motions to you.

TAGLIST : @dollyhoon @itjengirl @saeivra @orimuraa @pshwrldd

[district4loading]

Lazy Days

Twice Mina x Male Reader

4K Words

Content Warning: Smut, Fluff

Minors DNI

A/N: This is another request I received almost a month ago. I really hate that it took me so long to get to it especially because it isn't even that long. It's probably cause for the past few weeks I've been stressed and I've had bad headaches which really killed my motivation lol.

Anyways enough of my bitching, I really enjoyed writing this one cause Mina's been wrecking me lately so I hope you guys like it.

-

"You let me win, didn't you?"

-

"There's no way" You blink, your entire body running stiff as you watch the small pixelated character you created maybe four hours ago shrivel up and die in one of the worst ways imaginable. In the same instance you glance over to your girlfriend Mina, who's sitting right next to you on the couch. Although she doesn't look at you, you can see the smirk on her face and you begin to process that she just beat you. Again. "You've gotta be cheating!" You accuse, pressing the respawn button on your controller.

"No" She insists cutely with her whiny tone of voice "I'm just better than you" The simple shrug of her shoulders has you a bit salty. 

It's been like this all day. You both had today off, so really and truly there was no better way to spend it than to sit around all day playing video games. Truth be told, you were never a gamer before you met Mina. When she moved in with you, she brought her console too and you slowly went from watching her play occasionally to playing with her and even more than her sometimes.

"Yeah right, one more game" You run a hand through your messy hair.

Mina loves how stubborn you are, she sees it as one of your cutest traits. She just knows that although you say "one more game" you really mean "we'll play until I beat you" and it's even funnier that you refuse to admit that part.

Sure enough you end up playing four rounds instead of the 'one' you spoke of earlier "Don't you think we should be doing something else?" Mina mutters, reluctantly pressing the button for a rematch when you lose again. She glances at the time, noticing that you two have been at this all morning and it was just bleeding into the afternoon.

"Like what?" You bite your lip subconsciously, something you always did when you were trying to focus. 

"I dunno, you hungry? We could order something, watch tv, maybe go out later.." She suggests, but you barely hear any of it because not even a second after she finishes her sentence, you manage to finally beat her in the combat game. 

"Ha! See? You're not better than me, look I just beat you" You stand up and point to the tv. Mina only puts her controller to the side and she smiles at you calmly, nodding. It doesn't really matter to you in the moment that you've played maybe a total of sixteen matches, four of which you actually won. You silently appreciate her for not bringing up that part either. "Okay, what were you saying?" You turn off the console and plop back down on the couch.

"Maybe" She looks like she's actually thinking for a moment, then in the same instance she kind of stops and she gets this look on her face. An almost devilish smirk replaces her pondering pout and you're almost immediately intrigued about what's to come "I should give you a reward for winning"

She only has to scoot closer to you and lean her head in a few inches to catch your lips on hers. You kiss her back, hands on her waist so you can pull her to sit on your lap. "What kind of reward?" You decide to humor her cause why not and she can't hide her giggles when she presses on your shoulder to get you to lay back.

"Just lay down" Mina's voice is so wonderfully soft, almost healing to your ears when she says the three words. You first prop one of the throw pillows up against the armrest and you rest your head against it. Still in your lap, Mina leans down to put her lips back on yours and you can't get enough of them. So smooth and tender as you make out in your cozy living room.

When Mina pulls away, she shuffles backwards a bit and with the space she has, she lays flat on her belly between your legs. It's a big couch so she's able to fit there nice and comfy, arms resting on your thighs as she tugs on the waistband of your shorts and you lift your hips to help her out.

 "You let me win, didn't you?" You figure

"Well, how else was I supposed to get your cock in my mouth?" She teases, pulling the garments off your legs. Your cock springs free from its confinements, semi-hard from the bit of kissing you did earlier. 

"You could've just a-asked—" Your tone of voice changes mid-way when Mina wraps her lips around your head, her moist inner cheeks wonderfully stimulating each nerve. 

She releases you with a subtle pop then she curls her fingers around your shaft, stroking up and down. "Where's the fun in that" The way she giggles feels a little more sinister and it genuinely sends a chill down your spine as you grow harder and harder in her hands. 

Mina leans over, sticking her tongue out to flick it against your tip "God" You bite your lip, forgetting to breathe while you make eye contact. It's like there's a greater force gluing your eyes to her making it impossible for you to look away. When she's got your cock at it's hardest—which doesn't take very long at all—she opens her mouth and takes you inside.

The descent is slow and easy for her for the first few inches. She starts to struggle the further she gets down and you're unable to focus on anything but the warmth of her mouth, the saliva coating your entire shaft and the tight squeeze her mouth gives your cock whenever she gags or swallows. It has your jaw clenching already. 

You grasp your t-shirt in your hands then you pull it over your head, stretching the cheap fabric a bit because you were rushing. "Mina" You sigh, as she gets her lips to touch your base. Tears welled up in her pretty eyes. They threaten to fall as she holds herself there and the absolute clutch of her throat is nearly perfect. 

First she has to remind herself to breathe through her nose before she comes up. Mina stops when she reaches the head then she plunges again, sliding your cock down the slot of her throat easier this time around. She manages to get herself in a rhythm, cheeks hollowed as she sucks you off, tongue dragging up and down the underside of your cock. "You're so good at that" You praise, lips parted as you take in the wonderful view.

Mina's so beautiful, you could spend hours just admiring her face, scanning each beauty mark and every subtle blemish on her porcelain skin. "So pretty" You whisper and she hums softly to let you know that she acknowledges your compliment. There's more you want to say but the words get caught up and stuck in your throat because she's got you speechless right now. As her eyes pierce through yours, you hope that she can understand at least a fragment of the love you feel for her in this moment. "I love you" You groan the confession like it's the first time you're saying it.

She comes back up, licking her lips as she wraps her hand around your base. She strokes you slowly and softly, that same shy giggle escaping her lips and you get high on it. "I love you more" Her tongue darts out to lick up the pre cum that's beginning to dribble down your shaft. Then she rubs the pad of her thumb in circles on your frenulum.

A moan escapes your lips and your body begins to squirm as she attacks the sensitive spot there. You have to bite your lip to stop yourself from whimpering. She fists your cock again, then chases it with her mouth up and down with the twist of her wrists. 

You reach your hand out, running your fingers through her newly dyed ash hair and you brush it to the side when you notice that it was getting in the way. Her hand and her mouth moves together fast and you're not sure how much longer you'll be able to take it for. The way she can have your body almost trembling under her magical touch will always amaze you, no matter how many times she does this.

"M-Mina I'm close—fuck" You warn but she won't slow or stop. In fact, she's squeezing and sucking harder like she needs your load in her mouth as soon as possible. You know she'll swallow it all.

You end up biting into your fist, eyes squinting as your brows knit together right up until you cum. "Shit, I'm gonna.." Your cock pulses out the first few shots which hit the roof of Mina's mouth. She isn't at all phased by it though, in fact, she keeps her movements steady as she milks you for everything you've got, moaning eagerly at the taste. You finish it all off with a sigh and then she finally stops, taking you out of her mouth carefully so nothing spills out. 

Mina opens her mouth, proudly showing you the flood of semen thats pooled up inside where it belongs. Then she closes her lips together and she stops for a moment before she gulps it down. "You're amazing" You pant, watching weakly as she climbs up your body so you're face to face. She smiles before connecting your lips and your hands go to the hem of her top almost immediately and you slip them under just to feel her soft, bare skin on your hands.

She breaks the kiss, then she pulls her top off and her petite breasts are finally free "These too" You pull at the clingy fabric of her leggings, hearing the light noise it makes when it snaps back. 

"You ready for me already babe?" 

"You know I am" a smile grows on her face as she stands up from the couch to shimmy herself out of them, her hips swaying side to side with a naughty purpose. Finally, she steps out of them and kicks them to the side "Wait, leave them on" she stops just as she's about to take her panties off. She's wearing this black lacy underwear that clings to her ass so beautifully, it'd be a crime to remove them when they look so good on her.

Mina only shakes her head, a chuckle escaping her lips as she straddles you again "You're such a weirdo" She mutters, not giving you the chance to respond because she's making out with you again. This kiss lasts a little bit longer because you want to take your time with her perfect lips, sucking and licking on them as it gets sloppier. She begins moaning into your mouth because of the pressure your hard cock provides while it's pushed up against her cunt. "Fuck" She curses, lightly biting your lip as she grinds her hips forwards.

She reaches down, kissing you harder this time as she slides her dampened panties to the side because she doesn't want to spend another second empty. Mina has to hover a bit as she grabs your cock to aim the head with her slick entrance but she's so soaked that it ends up slipping past. You try not to, but you end up snickering and she glares at you before trying again. This time she gets it in, you know that much from the first feel of her tight cunt gripping the head. 

You both exhale deeply as Mina sinks herself down slowly, taking this opportunity to enjoy the stretch of your thick cock. When she's got you stuffed as deep as the position would allow, Mina picks up her hips and begins to rock forwards in slow motions. "So deep in me, it feels so good ah~"

The way Mina moves her body so smooth and fluid has you falling in love with her all over again. You let a harsh slap land on her round ass, hearing the sound of the sharp impact echo loudly in your living room. She yelps loudly, leaning over to hold herself up on your shoulders so she can move faster. Her warm walls hug you tightly, occasionally clenching when she closes the gap between you two. Your cock fits so perfectly inside of her, it's like you were made for each other.

"Mina" You moan once she begins to move her hips in a circular motion. It feels so insane that now you're gripping her ass tightly, probably leaving red hand marks on her pale skin. 

"Like that?" Mina smirks, looking deep into your hooded eyes moaning when your cock brushes past her g-spot. She puts her hands over yours, then guides them both up to her perky tits. You feel her stiff nipples poking your palms as you take the initiative to squeeze and knead the soft flesh thoroughly. "God your cock—it's so" She moans again, throwing her head back so her hair flys out of her face.

This is the perfect visual. Mina's god-like body on top of yours, every dangerous and deadly curve of hers highlighted with the sheet of sweat on her skin. Her eyes closed and her mouth wide open as she moans about how good your dick is, how she can ride it all day long and how it's tearing her apart among another mess of words you can't really make out. You listen good and well to everything she's saying because she absolutely means it, you can tell that much from the utter lust in her tone.

Mina lets herself loose on you like she's been thinking about it all day, thinking about how you'll fill and fuck her with your large cock. You're only able to watch as the subtle indicators begin to show themselves. Like when her moans go up an octave or when her movements become less calculated and more messy and feral. You also notice the way she leans down, capturing your lips once more and you can tell it's a silent plea for you to do something.

So that's exactly what you do. You hold her in place by her hips and you begin to piston your cock into her, your thighs meeting hers to make this thick meaty slapping noise. She nearly screams, unable to focus on kissing you when you're fucking her like this. "Yes! Fuck- Harder!" So much raw force, it's almost punishing. However, your purpose wasn't to "punish" her, it was more so to reward her for everything she did beforehand. 

She understands that.

When Mina buries her head into your neck, you're a hundred percent sure that you've got her right there. She breathes heavily into your skin, moaning and choking on her words with each deep thrust you give her. She hums loud and long "I'm cumming!" and then you begin to feel how tightly her cunt clenches and pulses around your cock as her wetness spills down your shaft. "Fuck- Yes baby!" She begins to shake, her body jerking and bucking in your grip.

With a long sigh, she stops calms down a bit, the aftershocks still causing her body to react occasionally. You give her maybe a second to recover before you slip your cock out of her and flip her so she's on her back. She's so out of it, she doesn't even realize that you've switched positions until you slide your cock back inside of her where it belongs. Mina gasps, feeling your cock reach different parts of her at this angle.

"I can't fucking-" What she's trying to say is that she can't believe that you're fucking her so good. Hard and deep. That's exactly how she likes it as you recall, and you've hardly even given her a moment to recover from the orgasm you just fucked her through. "Cum in me" she looks deep into your eyes when she says it and she's so serious about it.

You lean down, your temple to hers as you nearly fuck her through the couch. You're a little rough on her, you know that because you can hear the springs in the furniture starting to give. It's not really built for this kind of treatment but it's durable and it's been through worse than this.

The more your cock slides in and out of her, dragging all the way back to the tip only to bury itself into her again, the more animalistic you feel. It's the tight grip, her velvety walls and her hoarse voice moaning your name that's got you like this. You want nothing more than to empty your balls inside of Mina, fill her up and keep it lodged so deep that none of it spills out.

You barely even notice when you push her into another orgasm because you're too focused on that distinct feeling growing and burning like a hot ball of fire in the pit of your stomach. "Oh... I'm gonna cum" You grit through your teeth, voice rough just before you nearly growl as you cum again, shooting countless ropes of warm white into her stretched cunt. She gasps, legs shaking as you continue to pound deep and slow into her, making sure you get everything out.

"Yeah, give me everything baby" She coos, fingers interlocking at the back of your neck. 

With a sigh your body finally relaxes and you put all of your weight on her body. When you're finally ready to talk after the long moment of silence you spend in your post-orgasm daze you lift your head and look into Mina's eyes. You know she's expecting your usual "I love you" after sex but instead you decide to mess with her a bit "So... pizza?"

She blinks "What?"

"Earlier you mentioned that we could order something and watch TV, right? I was just suggesting that we get pizza" She gives you an expecting look, like she's not going to give you a straight answer until you tell her what she really wants to hear "and I love you" You add on, leaning down to connect your lips with a grin on your face.

She can't help it when she smiles "Okay pizza then" she agrees.

-

You begin to think that maybe it wasn't the smartest idea to order pizza right before getting in the shower because you're both just stepping out when you hear the doorbell ring. Mina wraps her towel around her body "Well you're gonna have to get it cause I'm naked" She nods to herself as if there wasn't a towel wrapped around your waist also.

"So am I?" You try to argue as she walks into your bedroom. Her calm silence says enough and you figure you should just get the food cause you definitely won't win that fight. When you open the door, the delivery guy looks at you a little weird but you still tip him generously and mutter a small "thank you" at the end of the exchange.

When you get back in your shared apartment, you place the pizza on the coffee table and you turn off the lights before you join her in the bedroom to get into something comfy. 

"I can't believe you're making me watch this" Mina snuggles herself against you, squinting a bit to read the description of the show on the tv screen. You're cuddling and eating on the couch, yes the same couch you just fucked on, it's multi-purpose. You snicker at your own joke before realizing what she's just said.

"So you're genuinely telling me, you didn't enjoy the first season?" You ask, taking a bite of your pizza. It's only got pepperoni on it but it's a classic nonetheless.

Mina shakes her head "No I hated it actually" She corrects you, turning her head with her mouth open. You move your hand away, catching that she's trying to eat your food. She only whines, giving you those adorable eyes.

"There's like seven more slices right there, why do you want to eat mine" You point to it, nodding your head in the direction of the small table before you pick up the remote to play the show. 

It's Squid Game 2 that you're watching as you allow Mina to take a rather large bite of your pizza anyways, despite giving her a hard time about it. "I didn't wanna move" She says as she chews.

"Sure" You scoff, acting like you didn't absolutely love feeding her. Just babying Mina in general is one of your favorite things to do with her. She knows that from the way you swipe off a bit of tomato sauce from the corner of her lip but she fails to bring it up because she too enjoys it.

See there's nothing better than a lazy day in your book. It may have been really unproductive, but sometimes a little bit of a recharge with the person you love the most is the little boost you need to make the most of the following week.

Lazy days are good days

[thewitchblue]

You've been a hero for years, but you play the same prank on every member of the Batfamily. You have regenerative powers to the extreme that your injuries heal in seconds if you allow it. The first time gets them every time.

You have metal claws and a fury that burns. You shine under stressful situations. You are the key to their success oftentimes. You are a soldier through-and-through with a surprisingly high level of intelligence. You never told them the extent of your experience, but you've shown and proven yourself in combat, so you never had to. So, you started having fun with it.

Dick thought he hit you too hard in the temple with his weapon and panicked when you, taking the opportunity, crumpled to the ground. He's never run so fast. Being the leader, he really didn't want to be charged with murder nor kill one of his greatest fighters.

Tim, poor Tim. He was so exhausted he grew sloppy on a mission. Sloppy enough that you needed to jump in front of a blade for him. Somehow, the blade managed to slip between your ribs and puncture your left lung.

Well, that woke Tim up. He never finished a fight quicker. He speed ran a fight. He was on a timer, and he felt it. You were, seemingly, bleeding out because he stubbornly refused to sleep the night before, and you had to jump in front of a blade for him. He felt guilty and horrified. What does he tell Batman? What does he tell Jason? He'll need to hang up the suit, and he'll never leave the house again. You were the soldier everybody needed. The rock everybody can rely on despite your jagged edges. He knelt beside you. He wanted to check for a pulse, but he knew it was too late. He was fighting the goons for too long. There was no way you survived. Then, he heard your laughter. You laughed in his face, and your eyes opened. You laughed so hard you cried. Tim nearly collapsed on top of you in relief. He won't be killed by Jason or Bruce tonight, and, mostly importantly, you survived. You were a dick about it the entire way back to HQ.

Bruce was frozen in terror. His son's significant other just died on his watch. He was getting flashbacks from the time Jason died. Jason. How was Jason going to forgive him? How was he going to forgive himself? He was the one to suggest you come with him on the mission. He thought it would be easy. A simple mission against Scarecrow. You were the best pick because your system cleared out the fear toxin the fastest out of everyone else. You've seen worse horrors than what the fear toxin could conjure up, so you never falter in the fight. Scarecrow actually feared you because of this. He has yet to find a combination that is strong enough to put you down. Now, Bruce's best soldier was gurgling blood with a slit throat. He's failed you. He let you die. You didn't have a family to mourn you. He didn't know enough about you to properly set up a funeral. How could he let this happen? After everyone was jailed, he let the police take over and ran to your body. Your blood had dried and caked on your neck. He knows a dead body when he sees one, and you are very much dead in his eyes. He sighed heavily as he picked you up, only to almost drop you immediately as you opened your eyes and grinned at him.

"How?"

Was the first question he demanded. He knew your healing factor was very powerful, but to recover from a slit throat seemed like a lot, especially after seeing how much blood you let yourself lose before closing the wound. You playfully punch his shoulder with a grin,

"You know how, old man."

He laughed. Touché. He knows your abilities likely better than you do yourself.

Damian wanted to give you a funeral fit for a king. He liked you the best out of everyone, including Jon. He threw a knife that managed to cut through your skull and lodge into your brain. His panic was immediate but short-lived as you pulled the knife out of your brain and closed to the wound. You scowled because it caused a headache, but you survived quite easily. In that single moment, he considered seriously contacting his grandfather to put you in the Lazarus Pit, but he knew you wouldn't want a second chance at life. He knew you would happily die a warrior's death than live a coward's life. He respected that. Damian nearly cried as he ran to you. He clung to you all day and refused to say why to anybody. You simply returned his hugs and ran your fingers through his hair affectionately. You murmured about forgiving him, and he clung tigher. He knows he doesn't have to guard you on missions, but he's a lot more protective of you outside. Chihuahua privileges.

Barbara watched with horror on the CCTV footage on a local building as you get decapitated. She had flashbacks to her run with the Joker that left her paralysed. The Joker struck again. Instead of taking you hostage, you fought too much. You fought like a whirlwind of adamantium and controlled fury. Joker wouldn't have stood a chance if someone didn't come up behind you and cut your head off. She screamed as your body picked your head up from the ground and put it back on without so much as a wince. Joker ran the second the claws came out.

Cass was petrified. She's seen death before, but your healing factor hadn't seemed to help at all when she found your corpse. You were beaten to death by Bane. She gave an appreciative whistle as she pushes your head to the side to look at the handprints around your neck. He did not go easy on you, that's for sure. She wondered how he didn't die with you. He was skewered like a kebab on your claws, limb limp but claws still out and buried into his heart. She checked and he was still alive. Barely, so you must have been just shy of puncturing the organ. You went down fighting, and that was the best she could have hoped for with you. She went to radio on comms about the news only to be stopped by a clawed hand. She watched in stunned silence as your body heals itself in less than one minute. You sat up and stretched like a cat before removing your claws from Bane. Bane groaned in agony, but you didn't mind him. You merely wiped your claws clean on his shirt with a cheeky smile on your face.

"Well, that was fun. Next time, show up faster, yes?"

Cass could only nod, dumbstruck as you laugh at her expression. Cass knew your healing factor was insane, but you were so clearly dead to her. She never underestimated you again as you told her it was self-control that stopped you from puncturing Bane's heart, not death.

Duke hadn't known fear until he watched Ra's Al Ghul gut you like a fish. Ra's used his fear as a chance to escape, and Duke couldn't find it in himself to chase. He collapsed at your side. It all happened so fast. He had no time to react. No time to stop it.

He screeched when your hands both retracted their claws, and you stuffed your organs casually back inside your body as it healed itself. His eyes were wide as you chuckled at his misery.

"Gotcha. Now, let's get the bastard, yeah?"

Duke could only nod. He was still in shock as you ran your way to catch Ra's. Talia, for what it was worth, gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze before sauntering off into the night herself.

Jason was furious, to say the least. Here he was, on his knees over your seemingly dead body only for you to jumpscare him while your body healed.

You cackled like a witch on Halloween as your body heals immediately. You can control your healing factor. To whatever degree you want to. You were never in any danger.

You put the fear of God in many people because of this prank. Jason was fuming.

"Why the fuck would you do that, pipsqueak?!"

His scream echoed in the alleyway you were "murdered" in. You merely laughed. Your claws come out in the moment and you slit your own throat but quickly heal yourself.

"I'm sorry, birdie. You were the last one to do this on."

That was the wrong thing to say because that pissed him off even further,

"THE LAST ONE?! YOU'VE DONE THIS BEFORE?!"

Everyone on the mission watched with amused expressions. It's true. Your prank, admittedly, was mean. Especially to your boyfriend who came back from the grave himself. Fondly, you cup his face with a smile. You said confidently,

"God doesn't have the nuts to kill me, Birdie."

Jason rolled his eyes, scoffing and throwing a tantrum like a toddler. He drops your body. He could never truly be angry with you, but he's pissed you put yourself in the position of needing to be healed in the first place.

"Alright, smartass. I'm not saving your sorry ass next mission. You can do that yourself."

Jason tensed immediately once he hears the snap of your spine breaking, but you weakly laugh and heal it in seconds. Lovingly, you say,

"Bones are harder than organs, asshole."

Now Jason laughs. He was still pissed, but hey. That saves on medical supplies.

[r0-boat]

MC and the seven Demon concubines Headcannons

Instead of taking a human lover, You had other tastes in men.

You're so busy trying to really your kingdom you sometimes forget how loved you are! Your lovers are happy to remind you.

Satan

Satan is your military Commander, a force to be reckoned with in battle. But you're the only one who can tame him, (or make him worse). Using your body or letting you use his body as a stress relief, He's more than happy to fuck the stress right out of you.

Even though he is a demon, you can't help but worry for him when he goes out to fight Your battles for your kingdom. He writes to you often and brings gifts from war. He tells you not to worry about him since you always do, even when he cannot see you. And when he gets home, he will make it up to you ;)

Satan frequence the training grounds where he can practice all sorts of weapons as well as the barracks where he spars and chats among his soldier and Conrad's at arms. If you ask he is more than happy to train you in combat. There is nothing cuter than you're serious face as your hand grips a sword tightly in your hand.

If you manage to beat him in combat, his eyes will stare blankly at the sky, lying on the ground. He's never been so turned on in his life. He'll take you right then and there caring little for how many soldiers in his army see. To his knowledge the soldiers are smitten with you as whis will be a great reminder that you are his.

Mammon

He was yours from the start. The arrogant demon is so confident to win and buy your attention. As the richest, wealthiest man in the world, He knows his assets, and he's proud of them. Your kindness and humbleness not only confuses him but makes him fall harder. Your personality is just as beautiful as your face and body and you are made to be spoiled.

He worships the ground you walk on and peppers every inch of your body with his lips. Despite having a kingdom You still hold so little to your name. Mammon has known Kings and queens that have the rarest riches in the realm. But you give everything you have and to your kingdom and that kind of generosity attracts him like a moth to a flame.

Mammon is not only the devil of greed but also a successful businessman and merchant. Traveling across the realm to collect more riches and do business with other kingdoms. He showers you with gifts about 10 times a week. Or at least tries most the time you politely decline his generous gifts and it takes him a lot of effort to make you accept what you deserve.

At least you accept his pleasure in bed, when he greedily tastes you with his tongue like a starving man. Fucking your body like he owns it. You already own his.

Leviathan

Your fiance in an arranged marriage. She tells you over and over again that This marriage is only to join your kingdoms in an alliance and you agreed since he offered Not only your independence from his kingdom and yours but also his unwavering support.

Leviathan is starting to regret not joining your kingdoms as you gain more concubines and more rivals to your love He wished he could have just became emperor.

Unbeknownst to you, he's loved you for a while now, But having never experienced this emotion And the fact that you are still technically a rival kingdom, His feelings for you are complicated. Leviathan's followers and devoted subjects constantly stir the pot just so they can have their beloved emperor to get more excuses to be with you more.

Another way to air out the weight in his heart is to write love letters from a "secret admirer"

Beelzebub

The wandering eldest prince to the throne of his kingdom ran away since he hated work leaving his best friend Bael his "brother" to run the kingdom for him. When he traveled to your kingdom he fell in love with not only the great food but the beautiful scenery and the nice people. Finally contacting his "brother"He struck up a deal. To become your concubine in exchange, you would help protect his kingdom.

The Sly Prince wanted this to be a business only transaction but of course he had to fall in love with you over time. When he isn't traveling to other kingdoms, He is by your side.

He travels to other lands, writing letters to you and sending you gifts And when he comes back, he talks greatly about his travels and wants you to come along on his next trip.

Beelzebub is is a bad influence on you. To him all you do is work, work, work, and he tries to coax you into spending the day with him. If you've never been out the palace before he will have a good time trying to dress you up in disguise so the two of you could frolic out of the palace walls.

Lucifer

Was once the eldest son of a powerful empire now kicked out for his arrogance and pridefulness, he is a powerful paladin night with a talented gifts of healing. He treats the sick and wounded. Now he is building his own paradise Kingdom filled with all kinds of people from all different walks of life.

He met you one one day you felt ill from a deadly disease. The people in your court begged Lucifer to help and they do anything... He didn't understand his feelings then when his heart felt lighter, and he felt as though he couldn't breathe. When his eyes gazed upon you're sleeping form he was transfixed. Something about you pulled him toward you. Something about you He must have.

For healing you He asked for your hand. He does not need your power or your people. Since he could grow that himself. It is you he wants and you he shall get.

Even though he is technically your concubine Lucifer and you see each other on equal footing. Lucifer wants you to choose him, But he is still busy growing his kingdom. So the two of you are right often. When he does visit, he acts as though he's your knight in shining armor. Kissing your hand and standing by your side as if to protect you.

Belphegor(+Beleth)

He thought becoming your concubine would be a hassle. He was only doing this for the good of his own kingdom. But that opinion quickly changed when he actually got his first taste of you. Now he's obsessed So obsessed that His "advisor"Now wants you.

If it wasn't for the fact that you're so far away and he needs to still keep an eye on his subjects and kingdom he would not hesitate to live in the cozy chamber you prepared for him when he does stay.

You're such a diligent and hard worker so passionate to better your kingdom All he wants to do is support you, (by sleeping in bed supporting you in spirit)

But you can't help but notice Beleth His advisor had been eyeing you more recently. Maybe he wants you just as bad. His advisor looks more like his knight he probably is to

Asmodeus

You're not sure how you scored an audience with The king from one of the most feared kingdoms on the map. A kingdom known for its lack of laws. With impenetrable rock walls and a thick iron gate being heavily heavily guarded. The Kingdom feels more like a prison than a home. Perhaps that's why most people end up going if they have nowhere to go.

Asmodeus had everything handed to him and he wonders why you're different. He wonders why you hesitate to fall to your knees... He's puzzled by the fact that he actually has competition to compete with.

You're not sure why he's fond of you so. He brings you mountain of gifts some you don't even want to open and many many steamy love letters. It has been a painfully long time since he wanted someone so bad before.

He's fine with being your concubine for now as long as he has in your bed he is But even then that will soon to be proved not enough as he continues to crave for more and more of you.

[mournthebird]

Gentle Hand.

summary: Soldat has a panic attack.

warnings: Post!HYDRA Winter Soldier | Post!HTP and abuse | PTSD symptoms & behavior | Panic attacks | Brief medical treatments | Flashbacks of HTP | Past dehumanization | Brief mention of SA

a/n: This was supposed to be posted before the other one I just posted, but I got impatient lol. So it might sound a little out of order, once I have all these parts out I'll put them in order. He's getting through it, you're being patient. Unedited. ;; wc: 3.4k

There were a lot of complicated things with Soldat.

Significant complications with his health, for starters, which caught you off guard given his status as a super soldier. You had initially assumed that his enhanced physiology would grant him a far greater resilience compared to an ordinary human, as had been proven with the likes of Steve Rogers. However, the treatment from HYDRA had somehow managed to infiltrate his system so profoundly and extensively that it had wreaked havoc on his entire physiological makeup, leaving him in a severely compromised state.

The issue of malnourishment was addressed through a carefully planned regimen of intravenous treatments, much to Soldat’s dislike. This approach was complemented by a gradual reintroduction to solid foods, a process that required meticulous attention and patience. The goal was to slowly accustom his system to regular nutrient intake without overwhelming his weakened digestive tract. Not to mention the fact that Soldat often refused food or that his body simply could not handle it, even in small amounts.

Honestly, re-feeding him was a whole other problem you had to tackle.

A similar strategy was employed to combat his severe dehydration and restore proper fluid balance. You also noticed that he experienced significant difficulty in swallowing, a symptom that hinted at potential damage to his esophageal tract or neurological complications affecting his ability to consume liquids normally.

Then, there were the myriad of wounds that covered his body. Stubborn injuries that had been persisting for a duration that far exceeded your initial expectations and caused you considerable worry. You found a small measure of solace in the fact that the majority of these injuries, while numerous, consisted primarily of superficial cuts and bruising.

Treating these wounds was far from easy. His behavior during treatment sessions mirrored a cornered wild animal, skittish and unpredictable, making each attempt at care a delicate and often extremely stressful. You didn’t want to stress him any further than he probably was in a stranger’s home, with a stranger, but you needed to at the very least keep the wounds from bleeding everywhere.

He lashed out at you with his metal arm, swinging wildly without any real force behind it. You could instantly discern that his actions were driven by sheer terror rather than malice. His eyes were wide with panic, darting frantically around the room, and it was evident that he wasn't actively trying to cause you harm. As you approached with the antiseptic and gauze, he bared his teeth in a defensive snarl and let out a feral hiss, his metal arm swinging once more in a desperate attempt to keep you at bay.

He had backed himself into the corner of your bathroom, the face he couldn’t go anywhere was frightening him just as much as you were. "Easy there, Soldat," you murmured, your voice steady and reassuring. "You're not scaring me. These wounds need to be cleaned and treated." Your words were calm and gentle, but they seemed to do little to soothe his frayed nerves.

In another display of agitation, he swung his arm downward, connecting with your tile floor. The impact was forceful enough to shatter the tiles into several jagged pieces, the sound of breaking ceramic echoing through the room. He fixed you with a glare that was clearly meant to be intimidating, but you could see right through it. His expression was a forced mask of hatred, a poor attempt at appearing dangerous. He was trying so hard to maintain this façade of aggression, but his fear was as obviously visible beneath the surface.

"Listen, Soldat," you said, your voice taking on a firmer yet still compassionate tone. "If you really wanted to harm me, we both know you would have done so by now. Your behavior isn't fooling either of us." You gestured to his injuries, your expression softening. "Now, please, let me tend to these wounds. If we don't bandage them soon, you're going to end up bleeding all over the place. That can't be comfortable for you. And I would really appreciate it if you didn't stain my carpet..."

His face held a stubborn, forced scowl, but also an undeniable air of resignation. He relaxed at your approach, albeit marginally, allowing you to come closer. Sharp, audible breaths exited his nostrils in rapid succession, betraying his lingering apprehension. You knew he was tense so you offered reassurance, "You're alright, I promise this won't hurt. We just need to take care of these."

Your words seemed to have enough of a calming effect as you carefully began tending to him, finally able to assess and treat his injuries. As the moments passed and he realized your true intentions were solely to help, not harm, his demeanor shifted. He became increasingly receptive to your ministrations as each cleaning session came, and he allowed you to clean his wounds and change his gauze without resistance.

But there was one thing you couldn't help but notice, and it was perhaps the biggest hurdle of them all. An almost violent aversion to certain actions and decisions.

To the outside eye, they appeared completely random, and they did to you too. At first.

Soldat refrained from doing anything, no matter how mundane, without first seeking your explicit permission. Something as simple as taking a seat or reaching for a glass of water seemed to require your approval.

At first this behavior confused you, but as you observed him more closely, you started to understand a little but more. HYDRA, while you knew very little of his experiences, did a number on his psyche. He was grappling with intense internal struggles, and in an attempt to cope with his sudden freedom, he was projecting his deep-seated need for structure and guidance onto you. By relinquishing control over even the most basic decisions, he seemed to find a semblance of comfort and stability.

This realization left you with mixed emotions.

On one hand, you felt a twinge of discomfort at being thrust into this unexpected role of authority. The weight of his dependence on your decisions was not something you had anticipated or necessarily desired.

Yet, on the other hand, you couldn't deny the visible relief and calm that washed over him when operating within these self-imposed boundaries. Witnessing how this dynamic seemed to provide him with a sense of security and ease, you found yourself reluctantly gave into.

Despite your internal reservations, you knew that this arrangement was serving as a crucial coping mechanism for him during what was clearly a difficult time, even if it had begun from something awful. So, setting aside your own discomfort, you made the conscious decision to lean into this role, at least for now.

Your primary concern was his well-being, and if this is what he needed to feel safe and begin healing, then you were willing to adapt and provide that structure for him.

His comfort level around you was noticeably increasing with each passing day. Gradually, he began to emerge from the bedroom where he had initially isolated himself, seeking out your company in subtle ways.

Your presence seemed to have a calming effect on him, acting as a source of reassurance in his new environment. He made a conscious effort to be in the same room as you, his actions betraying a growing desire for proximity.

He maintained a considerable distance for a while, positioning himself at the far end of whatever space you occupied. He often watched you, or sometimes he’d allow himself to nap, he never spoke. You chose to ignore him most of the time, not wanting to give him too much attention and spook him away.

Time progressed and you noticed a slow but steady shift in his behavior. Like a cautious animal gradually acclimating to a new habitat, he inched closer to you day by day. He continued his gradual migration until he finally felt secure enough to position himself right beside you.

One particularly lazy afternoon, he slowly made his way towards you, his steps heavy with hesitation. Upon reaching the living area, he carefully lowered himself onto the floor adjacent to the couch, his eyes fixed downward on the carpet. Eventually, his gaze lifted, settling on the television screen. He watched the program you had selected, you couldn't help but notice a glimmer of curiosity dancing behind his eyes, his engagement slowly growing with his surroundings.

You had tried many different offers and encouragement, but he refused to make use of any furniture in the house. The comfortable couch remained untouched by him, and the inviting bed you prepared for him went unused night after night. He had ripped the blankets off and curled up on the floor instead.

His reluctance to using the couch and the bed made you start to think. Had he been conditioned to believe that he wasn't allowed to use something as basic as furniture?

You remained silent, not uttering a single word as you observed him sitting there, seemingly without any discomfort. After a moment of hesitation, you decided to break the silence. "You know, you're more than welcome to sit up here with me," you suggested, your voice soft and kind. His head lifted ever so slightly in response to your words, his eyes glancing at you from under the bits of hair that fell over his face.

The soldier's gaze met yours, his eyes filled with a mixture of doubt and confusion. His frown deepened, etching lines across his forehead as if your words were spoken in a foreign tongue he couldn't quite decipher. You gently patted the empty cushion to your left, emphasizing your point. "Really, you can sit up here if you'd like," you reiterated, your tone warm and encouraging, hoping to dispel any lingering uncertainty he might have.

Several minutes pass and he doesn't budge.

You decide to just let him sit there if he wants to, observing his actions without comment. You didn't want to make him do something he didn't want to do anyway. So you turned your attention back to the show playing on the screen, watching she shitty adult cartoon full of jokes and clichés. But you had to admit, it was pretty funny. You felt something beside you, the subtle shift in the couch's cushions as his silver prosthetic makes contact. The furniture dips ever so slightly as the soldier cautiously lowers himself onto it.

His movements are painfully slow and deliberate, as if he's treading on eggshells, anticipating that you might suddenly change your mind or lash out at him at any moment. When he finally settles, his posture is noticeably stiff and unnatural, not to mention his obvious aversion to sitting flat on his ass like a normal person. His wounds and injuries were brutal, and you knew he didn't like to sit often. But right now it seemed like he was forcing himself to do so.

The discomfort radiates from him, filling the air with tension. He sits ramrod straight, muscles visibly taut beneath his clothing, and his eyes are wider than you've ever seen them, pupils dilated and darting around the room. It's as if he's desperately searching for potential threats or escape routes, his entire being on high alert. The sight reminds you of a cornered animal, teetering on the edge of fight-or-flight, barely containing the urge to bolt from the room at the slightest provocation.

"Soldat, it's alright. You're safe here. You can sit here, I said you could," you said in a gentle, reassuring tone, attempting to alleviate his visible anxiety. Your voice was recited soft and steady, hoping to create a calming atmosphere. Soldat still tensed up as you adjusted your position. His reaction was immediate and he recoiled as though anticipating a blow, his body language screaming of deep-seated fear.

His breathing became erratic, each inhale and exhale a struggle. His hands trembled and gripped the cushion with such force that the knuckles on his flesh hand turned white. It was clear he was desperately trying to maintain his composure in what he perceived as a threatening situation. The sight of his internal struggle tugged at your heart, you couldn’t believe something as simple as sitting on the couch could cause him to be this distressed.

‘Assets sit on the floor!’ A heavily armored combat boot collided with its nose, it heard a crack, felt the warmth of thick red ooze running down its face and throat, tasting the metallic flavored substance. The rusty tar. ‘Try to get up here again, and I will chain you up to that fucking stump outside. See if you can withstand below zero all night.’

Its handler really hated when it sat on the furniture. Used a bed. Used a chair. Its handler liked to threaten and hurt it.

He liked it to sit at his feet, like a good asset should. Be silent, be obedient, be subservient and pleasing for handler. Make sure he is satisfied and serviced well. Maybe then it will get to sleep? Maybe it would get a blanket tonight. Maybe it wouldn’t have to serve the team tonight.

Or not.

Concern etched across your features as you observed his distress. "I promise you, everything is okay," you reiterated, your voice laced with sincerity and compassion. However, as you shifted slightly to face him better, it became apparent that this small movement was what he had been unconsciously anticipating. The second you made that tiny little shift in the cushion, he leapt to his feet, his sudden movement causing him to stumble. His knee collided painfully with the coffee table, but he seemed oblivious to the impact.

Backing away from you, his eyes darted wildly around your apartment, resembling those of a cornered animal searching desperately for an escape route. There was panic in his gaze, his chest heaving with each rapid, shallow breath.

Unable to maintain his stance, he sank to his knees, his legs unable to support him any longer. His hands flew to his head, fingers entangling themselves in his long hair, gripping tightly as though trying to anchor himself to reality. His breathing had become so labored and quick that it appeared he was on the verge of hyperventilation, fighting for each breath as though he were drowning on dry land.

He cowered away from you as you approached him with worry, his body surrendering to you.

'Stupid fucking asset! Did they fry out all of your common sense, huh? I said NO sitting on the furniture!' Handler's voice thundered through the room, each word laced with venom and contempt. Its wet nose collided violently with his boot for the second time, the impact reverberating through its skull. A sharp, searing pain pushed into its face, and it wondered if a fragment of its broken nose had been forced inward.

Its handler seized a fistful of the asset's hair in a vicious grip and yanking, forcefully dragging it across the floor. The wooden planks, rough and splintered, scraped against its skin as it was hauled towards the dilapidated door of the safehouse. This ramshackle structure was their temporary refuge for the night, a necessary evil in the unforgiving Siberian wilderness. The biting cold of the subzero temperatures was a constant source of irritation for the American team, who were ill-equipped to handle such extreme conditions.

As its handler stepped outside, the asset felt the icy bite of a frozen chain wrapping around its neck. The metal was chilled to an impossible degree and seared its skin on contact. The unexpected pain elicited a cry of surprise and agony from the asset but it was cut short as the chain constricted, squeezing tightly and cutting off its air supply.

Panic set in as it gasped and clawed desperately at the unyielding metal, its lungs burning for oxygen. Just when unconsciousness threatened to overtake it, the pressure relented, allowing it to gulp in precious air once more. The asset's mind raced, recognizing the depth of its handler's fury in this brutal display.

Its handler secured the other end of the chain to an old tree stump barely visible through the snowbank. The makeshift anchor stood amidst piles of chopped wood, all buried under a thick blanket of freshly fallen snow. The wind howled mercilessly, its icy fingers clawing at both the asset and its handler. 'I'll come back in the morning,' he spat, the words barely audible over the roaring gale.

As its handler retreated indoors, the asset felt the blood on its face begin to crystallize, the crimson stream halting its flow as the subzero temperatures took hold. The relentless wind continued its assault, driving icy particles into every exposed inch of skin. With no other option available, the asset curled into itself, seeking what little warmth it could generate as it resigned itself to enduring the long, brutal hours of frozen misery until dawn.

At least it didn't have to service anyone tonight.

He remained motionless, neither pleading nor protesting.

Its handler hated when it begged most of the time. Sometimes he did like it, but it didn’t want to risk angering you by opening its mouth. No. It should only do that when its handler commands it. Otherwise, it was a whore.

In his mind, he braced for the inevitable feeling of your hand roughly grasping his hair, forcefully dragging him away to face some cruel punishment. How could he have the audacity? Sitting beside you on the couch, as if he dared to consider himself your equal.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly. After several long, dreary seconds that felt like an eternity, he summoned the courage to steal a glance at you. His eyes were partially obscured by strands of unkempt hair, peered out cautiously. His breathing remained ragged and uneven, though he made a conscious effort to quiet it.

Its handler preferred silence, after all.

This thought, ingrained deeply within him, only served to heighten his anxiety.

"Soldat, breathe... it's okay, you're safe here." Your voice broke through the silence, gentle and reassuring, though tinged with a noticeable tremor as you witnessed his breakdown. "It's okay. I'm here. No one else but me. You are safe." You repeated these words, emphasizing them as you carefully lowered yourself to the ground beside him.

The soldier’s hyperventilation persisted despite your gentle efforts to speak to him. You remained undeterred and continued to speak, hoping that somehow your words would penetrate the fog of fear surrounding him.

Or the thick snowbank slowly freezing its skin.

"Whatever you're seeing right now isn't real, it's in the past," you explained, your voice soft but steady. "You're here, in my apartment. It's just us. No one is going to hurt you." You inched closer, gradually closing the distance between you and his huddled, trembling form on the carpet. Your movements were slow as you consciously made the effort to be careful and not to startle him further.

He heard you, the absence of pain confused him, but it also provided some soothing to his pure panic. You were telling the truth.

You weren't going to hurt him.

Soldat's gaze met yours once more, his eyes filled with a profound sadness as he gradually descended from the heights of his attack. His breathing, still irregular and labored, came in erratic bursts, each sudden intake of air punctuated by a noticeable hitch. To your shock, he began to inch towards you, his movements hesitant yet deliberate.

Under his breath, he emitted soft whimpers, struggling valiantly to maintain his silence as he had been engrained to do. His entire form quivered violently, reminiscent of someone caught in the grip of an intense chill, and without warning, he allowed his weight to collapse against you, seeking solace in your presence.

A muffled sound escaped him, barely audible as it was absorbed by the fabric of your shirt. Your arms encircled his trembling frame, careful in case he didn’t want you to do so, but you felt no resistance. As he muffled, your ears pricked and you carefully leaned your head down a bit. Your cheek gently brushed his forehead, your mouth close to his ear. "What is it...you can tell me." You whispered, waiting for him to speak again.

Given the other times he had spoken, you braced yourself for Russian, but those concerns dissipated like morning mist when he finally found his voice and spoke. His words were simple, he murmured out again, the admission barely above a whisper and surprised you when they hit your ears.

"I'm cold."

Dividers by @/strangergraphics

Cover images from Pinterest. I do not claim them as my own.

Taglist: @millercontracting | @teafangirl | @questionableratatouille00 | @buckybarneswife125 | @hazydespair | @leighta | @knoxic | @ghostlyfleur | @beckies000 | @seventeen-x | @freyjhasdesiredreality | @curlycow01

Let me know if you'd like to be added/unadded anytime.

[percyluvr]

Hiii!!! If your requests are open could you do an injury fic with Luke and a Persephone reader? Where she gets hurt during capture the flag or smth like that and this man starts stressing even if he’s on the opposite team and didn’t know what was going on when she got hurt?

luke castellan x daughter of persephone!reader summary: you get hurt during capture the flag and luke gets worried wc: 885

Luke Castellan is very particular about his capture the flag team, and everyone at camp knew that, which is why it came as a surprise when you and him were on separate teams.

When asked, he would just say that the two of you had decided to have a competition on who could create the better capture the flag strategy, but it was deeper than that. The two of you had a small fight because you felt that he never let you help with the strategy enough, and you felt like he never really let you in on the combat. It was almost like he thought of you as a delicate flower, and when you brought it up, he got irritated, telling you that he wasn't trying to control you, he just didn't want you to get hurt.

You'd gotten mad and stormed out, and now neither of you knew where you stood, and preparing for capture the flag against him wasn't helping at all. The few days leading up to capture the flag were some of the most hostile days each month, and this time was no exception. It may just be a camp war game to some campers, but to others, especially your teammate Clarisse, this was a big deal. Clarisse was always rude and quite hostile towards your boyfriend, but it was worse than ever now.

You and Clarisse were an unexpected duo, but you two had a special connection, considering each other your best friend, so when you told her what happened between you and Luke, she was pissed off, to say the least.

"Thanks for telling me that, I'm gonna hand his ass to him on Friday," she said, running her hand along your arm, trying to comfort you to her best ability.

"Thanks, Clarisse, I can always count on you if I want someone to get beat up," you joked, making her laugh.

The next few days went by quickly, you and Clarisse rigorously training with each other and going over your plan as co-captains. You'd always loved being on the same team as Clarisse before you started dating Luke, and now you finally got to be again.

On the day of capture the flag, you and all the campers headed into the forest, getting into your positions. The game began, and you and Clarisse charged into the other team's territory.

As a daughter of Persephone, you had the ability to manipulate certain plants, which was helpful, especially at camp, because you could control almost all of the plants that were there. Unfortunately, with great power comes a great ego boost, which you fell victim to.

You and Clarisse were basically wiping the floor with your opponents, when you got caught up in your head, confidence overflowing, and tried to create a longer vine, accidentally tripped over it, and fell right into the sword of the camper you were fighting. Luckily, you had managed to move your body so that you didn't get stabbed anywhere fatal, but you did get an incredibly deep cut right under your ribcage, which caught the attention of Clarisse. Seeing you injured fueled Clarisse's rage, and she quickly finished the fight.

Immediately, she picked you up bridal style, rushing you through the woods to the infirmary. She passed by Luke, and at first he ignored it, but then he did a double take after realizing it was Clarisse, and saw you in her arms, blood soaking through your orange Camp Half-Blood shirt. Even though he was in the middle of a fight, he booked it in the direction the two of you were heading, now full of worry.

He finally caught up to the two of you, surprised at how quick Clarisse was. When Clarisse caught sight of him, she cracked her knuckles and gave him the dirtiest look you had even seen in your life. You bit back a laugh.

Luke rushed up to where you were sitting on the bed.

"Baby, are you okay? Please tell me you're okay," he said, voice filled with desperation.

You gave him a pained look, gesturing to the large blood-soaked bandage covering the left side of your abdomen. "Well, I have a near fatal hole going through my side, but other than that, I'm great," you say dryly.

"C'mon, don't be that way. I'm sorry for what happened last week, okay? But see, this is why I'm so protective. I can't let anything happen to you, I don't want to lose anyone else," he whispers, eyes glazed over.

At this point, Clarisse is long gone. Knowing her, she probably left because she couldn't stand to see you and Luke being all 'lovey dovey,' as she calls it.

"Well... yeah. I guess I see your point. But I still think that you should let me help more, please."

"Okay, you're right. I know you're perfectly capable, I'm just scared. I've lost too many people and losing you would be too much to handle, so please be more careful, okay?" He eyes your bandage, giving you a grimace.

You respond by pulling him down to your face by his shirt, and give him a sweet kiss, which he reciprocates almost immediately. It almost made you laugh how quickly he kisses you back, even though it happens every time.

[bkgml]

Omg! Just found your profile and I literally fell in love with your writing, it’s AMAZING! That’s why I’m here to request a Bakugo x fem!reader where the reader has a telekinesis quirk and overworks herself during practice. After that Katsuki can’t seem to find her anywhere until he searches in her room and find her in bed with lights off and just enter protective boyfriend mode? Thank you so much, hope you’ll write it! 🧡🧡🧡

you felt your head pounding as you stare down at the gym mat. you’ve been training heavily all afternoon and you feel yourself getting closer and closer to your limit.

“yn, you good?” sero asks stepping closer to your hunched over form.

your eyebrows furrow and your ears ring. god your head is pounding.

“yeah.” you mutter weakly, breathing deeply through your nose.

“you’ve trained enough for today, go rest up for the test tomorrow.” he says sternly.

“no i’m good, one more round.” you say, standing to your full height in an attempt to mask your pain.

“you’re gonna fucking pass out. go upstairs.” he says, pushing you gently in the direction of the gym doors.

“fine fine i’m going.” you laugh weakly, stumbling outside.

“and drink some fucking water!” he yells.

****************************************************

“i’m gonna kick your ass.” katsuki snarls.

kirishima just knocked him down and katsuki is not happy.

“bro, you’re getting weaker.” kirishima teases, way to poke the beast.

katsuki launches into another attack, pummeling kirishima.

****************************************************

after your quick shower, you stumbled into bed and pulled out your phone.

*calling: katsuki <3*

straight to voicemail.

you sigh, trying to relax, but the stress of your combat test as well as your sore muscles are forcing you to stay awake.

*calling: serooo*

“yo, yn! this fight is crazy, kirishima and bakugou are killing it!”

“nice!” you attempt to sound excited, but you feel like shit.

“…so, katsuki’s still training then?” you say sadly.

“uh yeah he is, do you want me to get him though?” he offers.

“no, it’s okay. just tell him to call me when he’s free, okay?”

“yeah, course. bye, feel better!” he cheers.

“bye sero.” you mumble, arm flopping back on the bed.

you’re so frustrated. you just want to relax and sleep but you can’t manage to.

****************************************************

“hey bakugou.” sero says, running up to him after katsuki finishes sparring.

“hm?” he hums while chugging his water.

“yn told me to tell you to call her.” katsuki’s eyes furrow.

“where is she?” he asks.

“she’s in her dorm. she overworked herself during training, looked like shit.” he replies.

katsuki frowns deeply, pushing past sero and through the gym doors.

“fuckin told her… don’t overwork yourself… just can’t listen.” he grumbles, trudging in the direction of your dorm.

he creaks your door open slowly to not wake you.

“suki?” you murmur, head lifting to peer at your door.

“what are you doing up?” he sighs.

“can’t sleep.” you whine.

“yn i told you not to fuckin overwork yourself.” he grumbles, shutting the door behind him.

“i’m just really stressed out right now, kats. ‘m sorry.”

he sighs, walking over to thread his fingers through your hair.

“i know angel. we can train more tomorrow, you just need to rest properly in between spars, okay?” he says, kissing your forehead softly.

you nod and grab his hand.

“come here.” you whisper, eyes flicking up to his.

“i’m so sweaty. gonna have a quick shower.” he explains and you frown lightly.

“5 minutes. just rest, alright?” he kisses your head before walking into your bathroom.

you try to breathe and relax to the white noise of the shower but your headache overpowers your exhaustion.

****************************************************

“why aren’t you asleep?” he frowns, grabbing boxers from a drawer he occupies.

“i can’t, im too nervous for the test.” you frown, getting frustrated.

“you’re going to pass, i promise.” he says, dragging the towel over his hair while walking over to you.

your frustration builds tears in your eyes causing you to turn away from him.

katsuki sighs, climbing into bed and cradling you gently.

quiet sobs fill the room and you bring your hand up to harshly wipe at your eyes.

“let me kiss you.” he mumbles into your shoulder.

you turn in his grip and bury your face into his chest.

you remain there until your tears stop and you lift your head to look into his eyes, pecking his lips.

he stops you from pulling away by resting his hand on the back of your head, thumb rubbing up and down to massage your scalp.

you sigh into the kiss and feel your eyelids grow heavy.

“sleep now.” he murmurs against your hairline.

you nose at his jaw softly, tucking your face into his neck.

“night.”

he cradles you in his arms.

“night.” he says, smiling against your scalp.

[itadorey]

𝐁𝐄𝐓 𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐓! — gojo satoru

pairing: gojo x gn!reader summary: little snippets showing how gojo satoru has always been a pain in your ass genre: fluff and angst #lol #soz word count: ~3k notes: sorry. spoilers for shibuya arc and onwards, mentions of jjk 236. also this is the only thing i've written in months so i'm kinda rusty

Gojo Satoru is a pain in the ass.

More specifically, he's a pain in your ass, especially once he discovered that you're so much easier to rile up than Utahime.

It starts in high school, with meaningless bets made between the two of you that all result in endless lectures and reprimands from your respective school principals. But it's hard for you to stop agreeing to these deals when Gojo offers you a week without his presence if you manage to win.

Victories for you have become more common in recent years, with you learning how to words your agreements in a sly way that makes Gojo huff out a little laugh whenever you manage to outwit him. But your losses far outweigh your triumphs and you constantly find yourself dragged onto missions or out to new restaurants whenever Gojo wins. Which happens to be pretty often.

"I bet that the first years can beat you in a fight," Gojo says, snickering when you shoot him a nasty look. He takes a step closer to you, pouting when you distance yourself from him and speed up.

"I bet you that they can't," you retort, unable to stop yourself from disputing his statement. You don't turn to look at him, merely grumbling under your breath when he easily matches your stride.

You have no idea how you've ended up here, transferred (against your will you might add!) to Tokyo Jujutsu High to teach alongside the only man who has ever made you feel feral. And not in a good way.

The very reason for your arrival is none other than Okkotsu Yuuta, an overpowered, meek-looking teen with a cursed technique that seems to be a little more trouble than you originally thought. That's the only thing going through your mind when you're introduced to him, leaving you inattentive to the way Gojo slings an arm over your shoulders and introduces you as his significant other to the first years.

You're only brought back to the present when Panda— yes, an actual panda— congratulates you loudly, causing you to scowl and push Gojo far, far, away from you. You're the only one who doesn't notice how you actually make brief physical contact with him.

"I am not dating him. I'm your new instructor," you say sharply, introducing yourself before turning and walking out the door. The first years all share a glance before following, Zenin Maki leading the small group as she eyes you with interest. You come to a stop in the middle of the training field before flashing them a grin that can only be described as dangerous. "Now, we're going to see how much combat experience you have, so give me all you've got."

You then proceed to take on all four of the first years, all too aware of the way Gojo's stare never leaves your figure. At the end of the day, you're the proud winner of a Gojo-free week.

Your first year teaching at Tokyo Jujutsu Tech is a tumultuous one.

You learn to treasure your friends a little more, and you find yourself thinking that you've become a pro when it comes to grieving.

(You remember Geto's defeated form as you arrived just in time to see the last smile he ever gave Gojo right before he took his last breath—)

The stress of everything even has you appreciating Gojo's presence in your life a little more, and when you tell Shoko this development, she merely snorts and pulls out a cigarette. You chide her for failing to break her habit even after she's promised you multiple times, only falling silent when you realize just how tired she looks.

You've become a pro at grieving, but that doesn't mean everyone else has, so you silently slide the cigarette packet back towards her and leave her to mourn in a way that seems to work for her.

The months that follow feel like a blur, and you get sent on plenty of missions to fill time. Your bets with Gojo seem to occur more often, and you find that you don't necessarily dislike hanging out with him whenever he wins. You wonder if the previous year has helped him mellow out, and you find yourself thinking a friendship with Gojo is possible. Especially after everything the two of you have dealt with.

Your appreciation for Gojo ends up fizzling out when you learn from Maki that he's been telling the new first year, Fushiguro Megumi, the same lies he tried telling the second years when you first arrive. It isn't long before you find out that Megumi is incredibly perceptive, and he doesn't fall victim to Gojo's lies about your nonexistent relationship.

Unfortunately, the two other first years aren't necessarily as... insightful as Megumi is, and all it takes is for them to see the way Gojo smiles when he's around you to believe that the two of you are meant to be.

Itadori Yuuji is a young boy that you think is a little wise beyond his years. When you hear about how he ate— yes, consumed— Sukuna's finger, you change your mind. He's seen a lot in the past few days, and it almost amuses you to see just how upbeat but jaded he seems. Seeing him interact with Megumi reminds you of sweeter times, back when you were their age and spent your afternoons sharing snacks and chatting with Utahime, and you feel an awful heaviness weighing down your heart when you realize just how small they seem.

You're tending to Megumi's wounds when you meet Yuuji for the first time, and you can't help but roll your eyes when you hear Gojo call out your name.

"This is my partner," he whispers loudly to Yuuji, lips turned up in a fond smile as you give Megumi the all clear. There's a mildly irritated huff that escapes you as you turn to greet the newest first year, but you can't help the way your lips twitch when Gojo tries to pinch your cheek and you swat his hand away. Megumi's suspicious eyebrow raise goes unnoticed by you as Yuuji bows in greeting, an easy smile on his face as he looks between you and Gojo.

"The two of you make a nice couple," he comments before his gaze drifts over to Megumi. You open your mouth to dispute Yuuji's statement but he makes his way over to Megumi before you have the chance to actually speak. "Woah! Fushiguro, what happened to you?"

The two boys walk into Megumi's bedroom, softly conversing as Yuuji pokes at the bandage on his cheek. You watch them fondly, sighing softly before turning around to leave.

"I bet I can also convince the third first year that we're dating," Gojo sings as he walks beside you, causing you to flinch away from him.

"I bet you can't," you respond automatically, feeling your stomach drop when he shoots you a cocky grin. He doesn't say anything before splitting off down another hall, shouting a quick goodbye to the two boys who are still wrapped up in conversation. You hope that Kugisaki Nobara is smarter than Yuuji.

Kugisaki Nobara is not smarter than Yuuji.

You have hope for the first five minutes you interact with her, fighting a smirk when you notice her immediate disdain towards Gojo. There's a judgmental look on her face as he introduces himself, and you can't help but straighten up when her gaze lands on you and her eyes sparkle with curiosity.

"It's very nice to meet you," you say softly, introducing yourself and giving her a soft smile. She smiles back at you, her expression becoming strained when Gojo pulls you into his side.

"We're dating!" he proclaims proudly, earning a quiet groan from you. Nobara looks between the two of you skeptically, and you feel confident that she's going to call out his lie until she turns to look at her fellow first years.

There's a bored look on Megumi's face, but Yuuji is nodding his head enthusiastically, his eyes shining as he glances at you and Gojo. You shake your head in response, and Megumi's lips twitch in amusement at your contrasting demeanors. Your embarrassed state is apparently proof enough for Nobara, and she gives you a sympathetic look as she turns to face you once more.

"You're so brave," she whispers to you, wiping a fake tear from her eye before turning to Gojo. "And you're punching above your weight."

She promptly turns around and walks off before he can respond, leaving you fighting back a giggle as Megumi and Yuuji follow her. Gojo wilts at her words momentarily before turning to give you a dazzling smile, lifting his blindfold just enough for you to see him wink at you.

"I win!" he declares, laughing when he notices the way your eyebrows furrow in frustration. He turns to follow after Nobara, casually reaching for your hand and intertwining his fingers with yours before pulling you along. "Come on! We can't stand here all day, we might lose the kids."

He smiles when you don't really make a move to pull your hand away from his and makes a mental note to take you to your favorite restaurant this time.

"I bet I can take out more curses than you."

Your statement is quiet, a familiar phrase meant to try and calm your nerves. You're met with a bored glance from Nanami, and you huff when he crosses his arms and shakes his head.

The atmosphere in Shibuya is unsettling, and even though you have complete faith in your abilities as a sorcerer, you can't help but feel a chill run down your spine when you think about what's to come.

"You should be making that bet with your boyfriend. Not me," Nanami says in response. You scowl at him in return, rolling your eyes when you catch sight of the amused smirk on his face.

"He is not my boyfriend," you mutter petulantly, all too aware of the way your statement lacks its usual bite. There's a quiet hum from Nanami before silence engulfs the two of you, and then—

"Are you sure about that?"

"Nanami!" you snap, feeling your cheeks warm as you turn to shove him. He barely moves, and you half-heartedly let out a string of curses as he chuckles. The tension you previously felt is broken momentarily, and you feel a brief moment of happiness as you joke with your friend. "Yes, I'm sure."

"I'm just saying," he continues, his tone even as he does his best to not give anything away. "Yuuji seems to think that the two of you are perfect for each other. I've heard quite a lot about how sweet he thinks the two of you are together."

"I can't believe Yuuji believed him," you mutter, shaking your head. There's a part of you that can't help but wonder what exactly it is that Yuuji sees that makes him think you and Gojo are a bona fide couple, but you tell yourself that now is not the time to dwell on that.

"Well, those younger than us tend to be more perceptive sometimes," Nanami says, unintentionally answering your internal question.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing."

There's another moment of silence between the two of you before Nanami calls your name, bringing your attention to him once more.

"I'll accept your bet, but when I win, you have to take Gojo out to dinner."

"When you win?" you ask mockingly, raising an eyebrow as you stare him down.

"Yes, when I win," he says, doubling down on his statement. "You need to take Gojo out. As in a date. Who knows? Maybe you'll finally understand Yuuji's point of view when it comes to you two."

"Deal," you say, eyes narrowing when he holds out his hand for you to shake.

That's the last time you ever have contact with Nanami, and later on in the night when you find his body, you can't help but wonder which one of you had actually won your silly bet.

But as you discovered a year ago, you're a pro at dealing with grief, so you give yourself fifteen minutes to collect yourself before setting out to find your students.

After all, you now have to figure out a way to get Gojo free from the prison realm and maybe even honor your bet with Nanami regardless of who won.

The relief you feel when you see Kurusu Hana unseal the prison realm is overwhelming.

When you get told by Shoko that she's giving Gojo a checkup, you act before you can stop yourself, bursting into the infirmary and throwing yourself into Gojo's arms. You let out a stuttered breath when he catches you effortlessly, one hand coming up to cradle the back of your head as you hide your face in his neck, and when he laughs you can feel your throat tighten up as you try to hold back your tears.

"Missed me?" he asks, cocky tone still present in his voice. His actions present a stark difference to his tone, and you can't help but think to yourself that he's holding you so tightly because he's scared of being separated from you once more.

So much, you think to yourself. But you're as stubborn ever and so you resolutely shake your head, drawing another laugh out from him as turns his face to press a fleeting kiss to the crown of your head.

"I did," he murmurs, voice soft as he pulls you even closer. "Miss you, that is."

There's a moment of silence as Shoko pulls Ijichi away, attempting to give the two of you some privacy as she gathers up the necessary tools. There's a mischievous glint in her eye when Gojo gives her an appreciative nod, but she refrains from teasing either one of you for the time being.

You make a move to pull away from the hug, a soft gasp leaving your lips when Gojo's arms tighten around you and pull you flush against him. You fight against his hold, pulling back just enough to see the pout on his lips. A breathy laugh escapes you, and your hands come up to cradle his face as you take the moment to process the fact that he's finally back. There's a softness in his blue eyes that makes you choke up once more, and you impulsively pull his face towards yours and press a kiss to his forehead.

He freezes beneath your touch, eyes fluttering closed as his breath hitches. His arms loosen in shock and you take the opportunity to slip out of his hold, cheeks burning when you turn and see Shoko and Ijichi watching the two of you with matching smiles on their faces. Gojo's hand darts out to grab your wrist before you can get too far, and he gently pulls you to his side, resting his head on your shoulder as Shoko proceeds with her checkup.

The days leading up to December 24 are eerily calm, and you make sure to take time for yourself in order to properly grieve Nanami and pray for Megumi and check up on Nobara's condition. Gojo joins you most of the time, silent but always within reach, with his hand holding yours or resting comfortably along your back.

"You know," you randomly say, walking alongside Gojo on your way to meet up with everyone else. There's a pit in your stomach as you glance at him, the knowledge of his upcoming fight weighing heavy on your mind. "I actually made a bet with Nanami before he..."

"I thought that was our thing," Gojo muses. His eyes linger on you before he turns back to face the road in front of you, tucking his hands into his pocket with an air of nonchalance.

"Nanami said something along those lines too," you say, laughing softly at the memory. "He still agreed to it, but he said that if he won I'd have to take you out on a date."

"Oh?"

Your words have piqued Gojo's interest, and he comes to a stop at the top of a staircase. You can see Yuuji's tuft of pink hair in the distance, and you drag your eyes back to your companion as you come to a stop as well.

"Too bad we never found out who won," you say flatly.

"Oh," Gojo repeats, his dull tone matching yours. You turn to face the staircase once more, trying to ignore the way Gojo's stare burns into you. You don't think you'll ever get used to those eyes of him.

"How about we make a bet?" you say lightly. There's a twinkle in your eye that sends a thrill down Gojo's spine, and he smiles before motioning for you to continue. "I bet that you can't beat Sukuna. If I win, you leave me alone for longer than a week, even though I know that'll be hard for you. If you win, I'll take you out on a date."

"Sounds like an easy win to me," he comments, laughing when you toss him a sly grin over your shoulder. "Betting against the strongest? I think you're guaranteed to lose."

"Perhaps, but I can't imagine I'll be all too upset about it," is all you say, shrugging your shoulders before descending down the stairs. Gojo smiles dazedly for a couple more seconds before following after you, effortlessly scooping your hand and entangling your fingers the same way he did when the two of you met Nobara for the first time.

The two of you are greeted with grins from all the students, the sight of your linked hands a welcome reprieve from everything bad that's happened so far. You hold on tight to Gojo until the very last minute, now all too aware of how awful it is to truly have him missing from your everyday life. You are unaware of what's to come.

You thought you were a pro when it came to grieving, but winning the last bet you ever made with Gojo has proved you wrong.

ty for reading. rbs appreciated <3

[zeropro]

Thundercracker: Origins

New Trine AU Fanfic posted on AO3! Check it out if you want, this one's a two parter about Thundercracker (and Starscream).

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62847191/chapters/160913611

Full chapter under the cut:

Chapter 1

The first of the seeker class was shipped directly to the air force. When it became clear that even a dedicated warbuild could not survive the intricacies of aerial combat on instinct alone, they began sending them to the Cybertronian War Academy first, for basic training at the very least. When enrollment for that became too full to manage, it was then deemed appropriate for certain city-states to offer civilian jobs to newly onlined seekers. Most of these seekers found themselves sequestered in Vos; as the central location of Cybertron’s air force, they stood out the least in that city. 

It was there, in the lower end of Vos, that a certain blue seeker lived out his days. His name was Thundercracker, and nothing exciting ever happened to him.

Thundercracker would say he preferred it that way. An exciting life was a demanding life. It meant expectations and hard decisions and the stress of unpredictability. Thundercracker avoided all that by keeping up a dutiful routine. Everyday he’d wake up, refuel, go to work, come back home, refuel again, watch the news, recharge, and repeat. It was a quiet life. He didn’t go out for fun, and he didn’t try to make friends. Other mechs stressed him out: the city was full of grounders that grabbed and slapped at his wings and seekers that harassed him for not being military. Thundercracker didn’t want to join the military. Thundercracker didn’t want to be anything at all.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t fight (as a warbuild, he was quite literally built for fighting), and it wasn’t that he couldn't fly, (in his humble opinion, Thundercracker could outfly most of the air force if given the chance); it was just, despite his class function, Thundercracker didn’t have the temperament for a soldier’s life. Consequences were so much steeper when death was involved. Dying scared him, but being forced to kill scared him more; and he would kill, if the military told him to. It wasn’t a pleasant thought, but the law was the law, and Thundercracker always did what he was told.

The military was run by grounders, as was much of Cybertronian society. It was a hold over from the Functionalist ideology that ruled the past, which still permeated much of Cybertronian law to this day. Thundercracker found it utterly ridiculous–after all flight frames were clearly the superior model–but he didn’t make the rules.

The senate made the rules, and all he had to do was follow them in order to live out his life in peace.

Delivering packages wasn’t an interesting or glamorous job, but it did mean he got to fly a lot. Gliding from lower Vos to the High Spires and back down to the Lights Districts, the routes were monotonous and dull, but he could focus on the air across his wings and the thrum of his engines to keep himself sane. Flying was one freedom he would not give away. And so it went, day after day, cycle after deca-cycle, the vorns blending into one another as Thundercracker repeated his routine.

Half a million stellar cycles of the same old, same old, and nothing exciting ever happened.

Only, that wasn’t entirely true. There was one notable exception to the uneventfulness that was Thundercracker’s entire existence, and that exception always made itself known when he least expected.

It was a day like any other: same morning routines, same familiar routes, processor dimly wandering over several different topics without ever committing to any particular thought. There was no reason to believe anything other than a half cube of energon and a quiet evening in front of the vid screen would be waiting for him at home. 

He was standing in the middle of his tiny apartment, about to take a sip from his cube, when a peculiar knock assaulted his door.

Tap, tap, rapitty tap.

Thundercracker slowly put down his cube as he turned to stare at the door, wondering if he had imagined the sound. After the briefest of moments, he heard it again.

Tap, tap, rapitty tap!

His vents stuttered in a suppressed groan. It had been an eternity, yet he’d recognize the sound anywhere. There was only one mech who ever knocked on Thundercracker’s door in that exact fashion. A mech who only ever showed up when he was in some kind of dubiously dire situation. A mech Thundercracker never quite had enough energy for.

That mech looked way too happy to see him when he opened the door.

“Starscream.”

“Oh good! You remember me!”

The white, red, and blue seeker at his doorstep grinned manically up at him. He seemed to be panting ever so slightly, as if he’d been straining his engines, and a stray suspicion at the back of Thundercracker’s processor wondered who or what might have chased him here. 

“You better not have done anything actually illegal this time,” he said with a glower.

Starscream barked out a laugh. “Of course not! But I do need your help. Follow me!”

That was all the warning he got. Thundercracker hardly had time to register the command before Starscream kicked off the ground into his alt mode and zoomed away. Without thinking, Thundercracker shut the door and raced after him. It wasn’t until he caught up to Starscream’s tail wind that he even wondered what they were doing.

Starscream set a brisk pace. Vos became a blur of lights beneath them as they flew towards the outskirts of town, turbines humming in tandem.

This was their first time flying together.

Glancing over at the smaller seeker, it occurred to him that he and this mech were still practically strangers. So much time had passed since their first fateful encounter, and yet they’d only interacted a handful of times, and only ever when Starscream needed someone to bail him out of trouble. It was his own damn fault, Thundercracker supposed: he was only in this position because of the one time in his function he didn’t mind his own business. The one time he decided, on a whim, to deviate from his regular path, to follow a trail of energon down that dark alleyway. 

That was where he found him. The terrified seeker had somehow crammed himself into the seams of the buildings, knees drawn up to his chest in an attempt to make himself as small as possible. It was unclear how long he had been there, sat in a pool of his own energon. It had taken forever to coax him out of his hiding spot. Both his hands were missing.

Thundercracker helped him. Of course he did. He wouldn’t have felt right leaving him there, and it wasn’t like it would cost him much. He had carried him home, helped him refuel, and then walked him to the nearest clinic. The medical bill did cost him quite a lot, but it had seemed like the right thing to do.

And then it was over; the next day, he was gone. He hadn’t expected to ever see the seeker again after that, and his life went back to normal.

The first time Starscream showed up on his doorstep asking for help, so much time had passed that Thundercracker hardly recognized him at first. Gone was that haunted look in his optics, completely replaced by an obnoxiously cocky attitude and whirlwind personality that easily commanded the room. Thundercracker barely registered having let him in before the tri-colored seeker was lounging on his couch, drinking his energon and chatting up a storm.

And so it was that Starscream would disappear for a hundred vorn or so at a time before suddenly turning up at Thundercracker’s door needing to borrow credits or a place to crash after having lost his latest job to one thing or another. There was always a story behind it. Starscream was absolutely full of stories! In the spans of time between each visit, Starscream would fly all over Cybertron, living in several different cities, working several different jobs that all defied the limitations of his frame type’s function. He had at different times been a medic, a prosecutor, a frame model, a politician, and apparently even a functionalist priest for a brief stint. That last one had gotten him in trouble with the law, but he swore it wasn’t his fault.

Thundercracker wasn’t entirely sure how much he believed Starscream’s tall tales, embellished as they were, but it was impossible not to be drawn in by the absurdity that was Starscream’s life. Starscream talked about everything, from politics to theater, from how badly Thundercracker needed to maintain his polish to the best way to drink engex, and of course every work-related drama he’d ever been involved in.

The more Starscream talked about himself, the less Thundercracker felt like he knew him.

Who was he really? Where had he come from?

And where exactly were they going now?

He scarcely finished the thought when the roar of engines caught his attention. Two seekers had entered the air space behind them and were quickly gaining speed. Emblazoned on their wings was the symbol of Cybertron’s air force. 

“What did you do?!” Thundercracker shouted at his companion, completely incensed that Starscream would not only get in trouble with the military, but decide to drag him into it as well. Thundercracker had work in the morning, he couldn't afford to go to jail!

Starscream’s wings wiggled slightly; the fragger was giggling.

“Don’t worry about it, Thundercracker! Just keep up and follow my lead!”

Starscream blasted off. The guy was fast, and Thundercracker could barely manage to keep up. The military seekers gave chase, but at a much slower pace than would be expected, allowing the distance between them to surmount. Just as Thundercracker thought they might actually lose them, Starscream banked upwards so tightly it forced Thundercracker to pull an insane swivel and flip just to swing back around. He could see Starscream making loops ahead of him, giving him a chance to catch up, but as soon as Thundercracker was at his wing, he was forced into another dangerous stunt. Starscream spun and pressed and volleyed almost playfully around him, corralling him into tight turns and sharp dives and complicated flight maneuvers seemingly at random. It was all he could do not to collide in the air, ailerons straining against the turbulence.

It was exhilarating!

Thundercracker had never flown this hard before. He spent so much time retracing the same inter-city routes that he forgot just how amazing it felt to really cut loose in the open sky. With Starscream’s antics adding an extra layer of complexity and challenge to the flight, Thundercracker could feel himself pushing his frame and concentration to their limits in a way that just felt good.

For a blissful few breems, it was as if nothing else existed outside of the controlled chaos of their flight, but as soon as they began to descend, Thundercracker remembered where he was and who was still in the air with them. His earlier trepidation slammed back into his frame as the other two seekers followed them to the ground, and he self-consciously wondered if they had been watching the entire time. At least Starscream seemed completely unbothered by their presence, laughing high and bright as he transformed into his landing. It was a small assurance that neither of them were going to get arrested tonight for whatever it was they were just doing.

Thundercracker landed stiffly, keeping Starscream between him and the seekers touching down a short distance away. The pair transformed into root mode with all the practiced bravado of seasoned warriors. They wore the nosecones of their alt modes tall and proud over their helms, in the traditional fashion of Polyhexian seekers. Thundercracker gulped– they looked really cool.

“Well?” Starscream said, turning to address them with an arrogant smirk plastered on his faceplates, arms splayed wide like a gladiator taunting his opponent. “I do believe I have proven my point!”

One of the seekers turned his helm away with a growl, but his partner gave them a good natured smirk. “Fine, we will concede. That was some pretty impressive flying up there. You know, the force could use more seekers with your talent.”

Starscream examined his claws. “I’d be wasted on the military. My skillsets were honed for free flight, not rank and file.”

“You’d be surprised. Command positions do open up occasionally.”

“Oh?”

They were just chatting now, Thundercracker realized. With a few more words of polite banter, the two seekers soon kicked off and flew away into the skyline, leaving Starscream looking far too pleased with himself and Thundercracker completely and utterly baffled by the exchange.

“...What was that?!”

Starscream flinched at the tone, but Thundercracker was too tense to feel bad about it. The smaller seeker at least had the decency to look apologetic as he turned to face him with a placating grin. “Heh, it’s a long story, but I may have gotten a bit overcharged at a bar a few cities down and implied I could outfly a pair of air marshals who would NOT let it go. In my defence, I tried to avoid them! They just kept finding me, demanding I back my claim!” 

Thundercracker felt sick with embarrassment. “THAT’S what you dragged me out here to do? To…to…skydance in front of a pair of professionals? What made you think…I’ve never even flown formation before in my life! I…Oh Primus, I must have looked like an idiot.”

“But you were amazing!” Starscream praised, his smile beaming with sincerity. “I did NOT go easy on you up there, but you matched me wing for wing! Listen, I told them I could outfly any pair on Cybertron, and these mechs have been hounding me for stellar cycles to prove it to them. And we flew circles around them! Thundercracker, if that was your first time flying paired, then you are a sky-blessed genius!”

Thundercracker immediately deflated at the earnest praise being heaped on him. He was still really miffed at Starscream for taking advantage of him like that, at how easily it all could have gone bottom up, how one wrong move could have sent them both spiraling to the ground in an embarrassed heap. But they hadn’t. He didn’t mess up, and they didn’t crash and make fools of themselves, and according to a pair of air force trained seekers, he had been good enough to impress. He couldn't deny how good the validation felt, how good the flying had felt. His wings fluttered bashfully as he let the remaining tension bleed out of his frame.

Sensing the change, Starscream pranced to his side and hooked their arms together. “Hey, how about I make it up to you? Come on! It’ll be my treat.” And before he could ask what that meant, he was dragged back into the air. With a resigned chuckle, he transformed and followed Starscream back to the city.

They filled the rest of the night with dive bars and live shows as he let Starscream drag him all across town. Everywhere they went, Starscream somehow made himself the center of attention, allowing Thundercracker to always be part of the action while staying out of the spotlight. It was comfortable, following Starscream around. The tri-colored seeker always knew what he wanted and where to get it, and Thundercracker never once had to worry about what to say or what to do next. They drank high-grade and shared stories and danced the night away.

And then it was morning, and Starscream was gone.

It was all an expected part of the long established pattern; just as Starscream always showed up when he least expected it, he also always left without warning or care. No ‘goodbyes’ or ‘we’ll meet agains’, just one moment there and gone the next. Thundercracker stood in the middle of his tiny apartment and sipped from his cube as he got ready for work, and something about the space seemed just a tad bit quieter than it used to. He flew his same old routes down the same city blocks and the air traffic felt just a tad bit slower than it used to.

That night he watched the news and thought about flying.

[sammyluvr]

✶ smirking and butterflies — sam winchester

cw : gn!reader, fluffy hurt/comfort, suggestive, badass!reader, mentions of mental/emotional exhaustion, implied sex, unedited, 783 words. requested ! for my 900 followers event [ closed ] .

prompt : the dinner table in a tiny apartment + “i just don’t understand, i get all– all nervous around you and my cheeks get warm, and i– oh.”

sam thinks you’re adorable. he also thinks that you are hot and sexy and stunning and all of that, of course. it’s just that most other people don’t tend to find you cute. but most other people don’t get to see you slumped inside your apartment, stumbling over your words.

it’s true that you’re a complete badass; confident and good with knives and guns and hand to hand combat. your monster kill count is easily on par with his and dean’s, which is saying a lot. but you can also be a bit clueless when it comes to other things, like his huge crush on you, or, apparently, your own huge crush on him.

he’s seen first hand how sure of yourself you can be. how easily you can slice your way through a nest of vampires or beat him in a game of throwing knives. and maybe your leather jackets, seemingly effortless intelligence, and grace in a fight keep you distracted from thinking very much about how you feel.

but these days, you’re bogged down by it all, shoulders sagging and eyelids heavy. you’re frustrated, quick to anger and even quicker to tire. why is he so distracting? why do your steady hands fumble and why do you feel like falling apart at the seams around him? it doesn’t feel fair and you can’t tell who you should be angry at. maybe you shouldn’t be angry at all, but something else.

and you can’t tell if you like that he’s sitting here with you, at the table only big enough for two people in your tiny apartment. he’s made you a cup of tea in your own home and asked if everything’s alright, and you can’t help but answer honestly.

“i don’t know,” you sigh, your forefinger tracing the rim of your cup. “i’m so tired.” you avoid meeting his gaze, about to admit that it’s about him, “and i just don’t understand, i get all– all nervous around you and my cheeks get warm, and i– oh.” then suddenly, you’re mortified as the pieces slide in place, and sam is holding back a grin. you’ve accidentally confessed, and you didn’t even know until those words slipped out. sam wants to smile, to kiss your cheek, or maybe your lips if you’d let him. but you look stressed, and he quickly picks up on it.

“hey,” he murmurs, taking your hand gently, “it’s okay. i’m making you tired?” he says that last bit apologetically, like he’s done something wrong. he hasn’t at all, you don’t think.

“no, no, it’s not– it’s not you, i mean, it’s just… it’s confusing. or it was. or– maybe still is. god, sam, what are you doing to me?” you breathe out, so unlike yourself as you trip over your words without any of your usual grace.

with more emphasis, but still gentle, he repeats, “it’s okay.” he cringes lightly because he never meant to stress you out, but has to hold back a giddy sort of triumph because he has managed to make you flustered. and of course because you’ve just admitted to feeling the same way that he does. “you don’t have to be tired anymore. or confused. you make me nervous too. not in the way you make most people nervous. i mean, i know i can’t beat that knife at your belt, but i’m not worried about that. it’s just ‘cause i like you.”

maybe it’s because he says it a little shyly that you get some of your bravado back, some of that intimidating charm that makes him go crazy. it’s a weird feeling, a satisfied smirk tugging at your lips and fluttering in your stomach all at once. you just wanna kiss him. so you do.

you stand, the chair scraps against the wooden floor, and poor sam barely has time to react before you’re leaning over him and tilting his head up with your hand on his chin. but his lips manage to meet yours with just as much eagerness, and you kiss like you punch, minus the harsh intention to maim. it’s passionate, hits its mark without hesitation, and sinks in deep. though, with the way you thread your hand through the strands of his hair at the back of his neck, he’s sure you’re just as good at kissing rough, too.

then there’s your tongue, slicing right through his lips and slipping past his sharp canines like one of your pretty knives. it’s not too hard to make him moan, you find out as his hands hungrily plant themselves on your hips. so, you make him moan all night long. to be fair, he most certainly returns the favor.

[mindfulstudyquest]

❥﹒♡﹒☕﹒ 𝘄𝗵𝘆 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗳𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗱 𝗼𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗼𝘄𝗻 𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗲𝗻𝘁?

have you ever noticed how quick we are to minimize our accomplishments or hesitate to act on our abilities? this phenomenon is not uncommon and may even have a psychological basis. according to research, fear of our own success is often linked to what psychologists call self-sabotage.

the psychology behind talent-related fear

studies suggest that fear of success stems from deep-rooted insecurities, perfectionism, and societal expectations.

dr. valerie young, an expert on imposter syndrome, explains that highly competent individuals often internalize self-doubt, leading them to feel unworthy of their achievements. instead of viewing success as an opportunity, they see it as a risk — a chance to be judged or exposed.

additionally, behavioral scientists highlight how comfort zones act as psychological safety nets. breaking out of this zone to pursue one’s potential often triggers the brain’s fight-or-flight response, fueling anxiety and hesitation.

a study published in the « journal of personality and social psychology » found that people often underperform or shy away from their potential to avoid the perceived threats of failure or criticism associated with high expectations.

the cost of playing small

constantly shrinking yourself can lead to a diminished sense of agency, reduced life satisfaction, and even burnout, according to findings in the field of positive psychology. martin seligman’s theory of learned helplessness suggests that repeated self-limitation can reinforce the belief that you are incapable, which ultimately restricts personal growth.

what science says about overcoming this fear

1. reframe your beliefs

imposter syndrome often thrives on fixed mindsets — the belief that our abilities are static and failure is a sign of incompetence. to combat this, psychologists recommend adopting a growth mindset, as outlined by dr. carol dweck. a growth mindset sees mistakes as opportunities for learning rather than proof of inadequacy.

actionable tip: when self-doubt creeps in, question it. ror instance, instead of thinking, “i don’t belong here,” reframe it as, “what can i learn from this experience?” over time, these subtle shifts can transform self-perception.

challenge begative self-talk: replace “i was lucky” with “i prepared well,” or “anyone could do this” with “i worked hard to make this happen.”

2. incremental action

imposter syndrome often paralyzes us because the expectations we set for ourselves feel overwhelming. research shows that breaking large goals into smaller, actionable steps reduces anxiety and builds confidence.

james clear, author of atomic habits, explains that small, consistent actions create a compound effect over time, leading to lasting change.

sart small: take manageable risks in your work or personal life. for example, share one idea in a meeting or take on a small challenge outside your comfort zone.

build evidence of success: each completed task — no matter how small — creates a track record of achievements. over time, this undermines the belief that your accomplishments are accidental.

3. self-compassion

people with imposter syndrome often hold themselves to unrealistic standards. kristin neff’s research on self-compassion shows that treating yourself with kindness during moments of failure or doubt can reduce stress and enhance resilience.

self-compassion involves acknowledging your struggles, understanding that imperfection is human, and responding to yourself as you would to a friend.

practice self-kindness: when you make a mistake, instead of saying, “i’m so incompetent,” try saying, “everyone makes mistakes, and i can learn from this.”

normalize imperfection: remind yourself that even the most successful people have moments of doubt and failure.

self-care as a tool: engage in activities that recharge your mental and emotional energy, whether that’s journaling, meditation, or spending time with loved ones.

by reframing your beliefs, taking small steps, and showing yourself compassion, you can gradually dismantle imposter syndrome. remember: confidence is not the absence of doubt but the decision to move forward despite it.

[herkonular]

SEVENHİLLSSHOPPİNG - MEGA+ (2)

Iranian saffron, available at Seven Hills Shopping, offers a variety of health benefits that make it a valuable addition to any diet. This spice is known for its powerful antioxidant properties, which can help protect the body against oxidative stress and reduce inflammation. Additionally, saffron has been shown to improve mood and treat depressive symptoms, making it a potentially useful tool for managing mental health conditions. Studies have also suggested that saffron may have cancer-fighting properties, reducing the risk of certain types of cancer. With these benefits in mind, incorporating Iranian saffron into your cooking can be an easy and delicious way to support your overall health. Turkish nuts, such as almonds and pistachios, available at Seven Hills Shopping, are packed with nutrients that can benefit overall health. These nuts are rich in healthy fats, protein, fiber, and a variety of vitamins and minerals, making them a nutritious and satisfying snack. Almonds, for example, are a good source of vitamin E, which can help protect against heart disease and other chronic conditions. Pistachios have been shown to improve cholesterol levels and reduce the risk of heart disease. By incorporating Turkish walnuts into your diet, you can enjoy a variety of nutritional benefits that support overall health and well-being. Turkish spices, such as cinnamon and chili, available at Seven Hills Shopping, offer a variety of health benefits beyond their delicious taste. Cinnamon, for example, has been shown to have anti-inflammatory properties that can help combat chronic inflammation, a common factor in many chronic diseases. Chili peppers contain capsaicin, which has been shown to reduce appetite and aid loosing weight tea, as well as potentially reducing the risk of certain types of cancer. By incorporating Turkish spices into your cooking, you can add flavor and nutrition to your meals while reaping a variety of health benefits.