#Nightmare being a happy and content child. There is some issues he is working through

[ancha-aus]

RealAgeAU Drabble - Mud

Hello! I am back with the baby-AU! Lmao! @spotaus

I am excited about this one :3

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Lets just get right into it shall we? :3

*-------------------*

Nightmare should probably be paying attention.

But the truth is it has already been a long day and he just doesn't feel like it.

Instead he just keeps holding Cross's hand as he eats his chocolate bar.

Nightmare is actually standing on the ground today, which is nice for a chance. It is mostly because he just spend the last two hours or so sitting still for some doctors and healers. For his monthly check up.

Which is new to him! Since when does he have a monthly check up?!

Nightmare huffs as he keeps eating his candy bar. It is sweet and he likes that. much like the light rain that is around them. He also likes the rain.

Cross shoots him an apologetic look "I know Nightmare. We will go home soon."

Nightmare hums and leans against Cross's side. He wants to go home already. The town is nice but busy today. Something to do with it being near halloween Crop had explained.

Nightmare looks up and sees that Killer is also very done with the conversation, even if he still has a smile on his face. Cross is better with acting interested. Gerson is talking to them so Nightmare can understand why they are still humouring this whole thing.

Nightmare finishes his snack and looks aorund, searching for a garbage can. He easily spots one and goes to let go of the hand.

Cross tightens his hold and looks down at him anxious "NIghtmare? Are you okay?" he gives Gerson an apologetic smile.

Nightmare rolls his eye lights and shows the obvious wrapper "Going to throw it away." duh.

Cross looks around and spots the same garbage can "I mean... okay... fast..." he slowly lets go of the hand as Gerson pulls him back to the conversation. Social guidelines nad rules keeping him captured.

Nightmare grins and walks over to the garbage can. He is careful to not slip on the wet and muddy ground. He is getting close when he spots a large mud pool and frowns at it. Annoying as he already starts to feel his spine acting up.

Seems like being carried and letting his spine relax a bit mad ehim less used to the pain... or is it because he is small now? Nightmare really doesn't know...

Still go carefully makes his way around the mud, he is wearing his new favourite sweater, the one Dust got him when they first got here, and he doesn't want to risk it getting dirty. He is already unhappy wiht it getting wet.

He gets to the garbage can and throws away the wrapper. Mission accomplished. Now to go back to Cross and Killer.

He turns around and bums into someone. Nightmare quickly takes a few steps back and slips only slightly before regaining his balance. He looks up and sees two boys.

Nightmare mutters "sorry..." he glances around and sees that Killer is already side eyeing him and his situation and he feels a bit calmer. He is fine. Killer is here.

One of the two boys huffs "How dare you! You dirtied my shoe!"

Nightmare blinks and feels confused. What does he mean? Nightmare bummed into him yeah but he didn't hit his shoe right? He looks down and sees that the shoes are covered with mud.

Nightmare frowns and rubs his arm "Sorry?" he isn't sure but also does not want trouble "Maybe it can be washed off?" he isn't sure. Some stuff is still hard to remember.

The boy huffs "Well that doesnt make it better!"

The other boy laughs "You know what would make it better?"

Nightmare realises soemthing is wrong right away and looks for an escape but one of them grabs his arm and the next thing he knows gravity pulls him down right into the mud he had been avoiding.

It hurts so bad.

His eye sockets sting both with tears and the mud. he looks down at himself and is absolutely covered. The other two laugh but it is already becoming a background noise.

His sweater is dirty...

He had tried to be careful with it and... and...

Two arms grab him and he is suddenly held close in a hug. "nightmare?! Are you okay? Is your spine okay? Are you hurt?" Cross speaks gently as he carefully removes some of the mud from Nightmare's face.

Nightmare can't explain. it is already hard to keep in the tears and now he is also ruining Cross's clothes and his body hurts and-

He sobs. He can't keep it in. He ruined his sweater. he ruined Cross's stuff. everything hurts. it is cold. he wants to go home.

Cross just pulls him closer and rubs his shoulders gently "Oh it is okay. Don't worry okay? We will get home and get all cleaned up and we will check your injuries."

Cross's voice helps him focus. Helps him breath and get passed the sobs and tears. his face is still all wet and muddy and he is dirty and his sweater. it had been a gift! He should know better than think he is allowed to have nice things.

Someone screeches "What do you think you are doing to my dareling boys?!"

Nightmare flinches and pushes closer to Cross. he dares to glance up and sees Killer growling and glaring at the two boys. He is holding one arm of one of the boys, the one Ngihtmare run into, behind his back and Nightmare knows that angle is painful.

Killer glances at the lady before looking back at the boy near tears "Teaching your child manners about how he shouldn't bully or harm a young child." Killer's voice is compeltely calm. Giving nothing away. Nightmare knows it means he is beyond furious.

The lady glares "It are just boys! Boys will be boys!" she huffs "What did they even do?" she notices him and huffs again "It is just mud! It is harmless!"

Killer looks at her before grinning. He lets go of the child and steps back. He moves quickly and Nightmare isn't even sure how he does it but next thing there is a wave of mud which covers all three.

Killer crosses his arms and waits.

The lady screeches again "How dare you?! This is real fur!"

Killer raies a brow "What? I thought you just told me. It. Is. Just. Mud." he stares her down "All you will have to do? Clean it. Which is much easier for you. As you have one of those handie bodies to keep it out of your system. Unlike wiht us skeletons that can cause quite a bit of different injuries. All caused by dirt getting stuck in joints. You know, like mud. And between joints, that this babybones has."

The lady shakes slightly as she looks around before looking back at Killer.

Killer stares at her "I will make this clear. YOu are going to walk away with those two brats of yours. You are not going to cause us anymore issues. understood?"

The lady nods and grabs her two boys and leaves.

Killer huffs before looking back at him. cold and emotionless look gone as he looks at him "tiny boss?"

Nightmare knows he is still crying as he pulls on his sweater a tiny bit. it sticks to his body, it rubs and hurts everything... but his sweater. He looks at Killer and isnt sure how to explain "my sweater..." he knows he is still crying "Dusty got this for me...." it was so expensive and special and Nightmare tried to be careful with it but he wanted the warm hug of the sweater at his appointment because it was Dust's relax day but now it is dirty and ruined and and and.

He can't explain adn just sobs.

Cross seems to understand as he pulls him closer "oh baby it is okay. We are going home. get you all cleaned up and clean up your sweater too. You will be wearing it again before you know it!"

Nightmare just sobs again.

Cross nuzzles him gently and that makes him feel a bit better.

"Hey tiny boss! Look!"

Nightmar eblinks and looks over at Killer. Killer sees him look and he grins widely. Before kicking his own feet out from under him and faceplanting right into the mud that Nightmare fell into.

Cross gasps "Killer!"

Killer pulls his face out and grins widely. The mud and tears mix and it is messy and he is covered in mud but it falls in almost slowmotion and-

Nightmare can't stop the giggle leaving him.

Killer grins and gets up. Each step makes a weird slurp and slosh. Nightmare snorts and laughs more.

Killer gets to them and grins at him.

Cross looks amused himself "You are a mess." he still nuzzles nightmare.

Killer grins and winks at Nightmare "Just means tiny boss and I will both need a bath." He then stands straight and shows his outfit "And look! More clothes that need washing! We will just wash our stuff together!"

Nightmare giggles and nods before starting to reach for Killer. He still pulls his hand back again. It feels... needy...

Killer grins as he sloshes over and nuzzles his face all over.

Cross sighs "Killer you are getting your goop all over him."

Killer grins at Cross "It is fine crossy! When we get home it is bathtime anyway!"

Nightmare feels himself relax a bit more as Killer rubs the tears away and Nightmare leans back against Cross. They are going home and wash up together.

He really hopes the sweater will turn out to be okay but the others probably know how to wash it out carefully.

*-------------------*

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[aesethewitch]

Notes from an Ex-Empath (Full Ver.)

This post is a highly personal account of my time as an empath. It’s a doozy, and I didn’t mean for it to get so long, but as with all things that really matter to me, it got a bit out of hand. I’ve left out the goriest of the details, but still take heed of the content warnings. Thanks for reading. (Placed under a cut for length.)

Content Warnings: Mentions of abuse, mentions of unhealthy home environments, emotional manipulation, cult behavior, mental health struggles, delusions, brief mention of hallucinations and nightmares, self worth issues, compulsive lying, toxic friendships, and teen angst.

Subtle Beginnings

The year is 2011. High school is hard. Like, really hard. Harder than it should be, probably. I’ve just left an abusive relationship to enter a new one which would turn out to be, you guessed it, abusive. Escapism is the norm, and I’m always looking for new ways to feel in control of my life.

I’ve always been a little strange. I saw my first ghost before I knew what death was. I talk to trees and the wind, and I know all the names of the local rivers, right down to the little creek behind the school. But by this point, I’ve learned to not say that. I know it’s weird, and I’m happy to be weird. Weird is cool, at least in my friend circle. Outside of it, not so much, but I’ve learned to Ebony Dark’ness Dementia Raven Way my way through life at this point.

My friend buys a cheap mood ring from a shop in the mall, and that’s how we learn what auras are. She’s into it. I’m into her, even if I don’t know how to articulate that at the time. So I get obsessed, because I don’t know how to be anything else. I read all about auras and color theory and energy and “chakras” on loud, multi-colored websites proclaiming that you (yes, YOU!) can become a master of aura-reading and energy healing in just one month for only $12.99…

I don’t learn about being an empath (or Indigo Child, or Starseed, or whatever we were calling ourselves at the time) from the internet. No, a different friend overhears us talking about auras and mood rings and meaning (because I’d spent hours and hours reading about it and am now eager to display my knowledge; I like being an expert; I like knowing things), and he asks us if we’re empaths. He tells us what they are — people who can feel the emotions of others acutely and are highly sensitive.

And I think about it.

And I think about it some more.

And then, I think, hey… I do feel others’ emotions. I take them on like they’re my own. I carry them on my shoulders and between my ribs and in my bones, and it’s second nature. And I say, yes. Yes, I am an empath.

An Inexperienced Expert

Taking on the title of Empath was like finding the Holy Grail. I finally had a word to explain why I felt so energized in crowds but drained after going home, or why I found other people’s pain so upsetting and visceral, or why I could guess my friends’ emotions even when they were able to hide them from everyone else. I felt like I understood myself at long last.

I wasn’t sensitive. I wasn’t a crybaby. I was an empath. It was a superpower, something that made me special. Because it was a superpower, it was something I could learn to harness and control. My sensitivity would no longer rule me; I could learn how to rule it.

I did a lot of reading. I went to the library and read books with titles I can’t even remember anymore. From firsthand accounts by other empaths to explanations of energies I couldn’t actually understand, I was way out of my depth. But I liked to know things. I liked to be an Expert (tm).

Honestly, I still do. I like knowing what I’m talking about. Being an insecure child who needs to feel in control and enjoys being respected, I could pretend that I understood. I did plenty of that all the time, and it worked out (most of the time). False confidence was something I was finely attuned to already. I could bullshit my way in and out of any situation I wanted easily — from teachers forgiving missing homework to lying about my whereabouts to my controlling parents to pretending I was attracted to my boyfriend at the time, I was an expert in lying to survive.

Surely I could pretend to know what I was talking about. After all, I was an empath, an Indigo Child with a beautiful, healing, pure white aura. I was wise beyond my years, in tune with the Universe and all its creations. The information came from inside me anyways, and all those books said to trust my intuition. The voice in my heart that whispered about how special and different I was for being an empath was right, and I shouldn’t question it. A little improvisation wouldn’t hurt anyone, right?

… Right?

When my friends asked about it, I spoke with confidence. I proclaimed myself an empath to anyone and everyone. No, I couldn’t actually see auras, but I could act like I could. The vibes were there — I could feel them like pinpricks of lightning on my skin and as little nudges at the back of my mind. All I had to do was squint and assign colors to those feelings. Sometimes, I thought I really could see them. I can’t discount it entirely, but I’m likely to attribute it to tricks of light and wishful thinking now, looking back.

I had a reputation for Knowing Things. Weird, niche facts. Being right about obscure topics. Remembering minute details from notes at the end of the teacher’s presentation given three weeks ago. Guessing right answers to questions I’d never heard based on logical reasoning and deductive skills. I had near-perfect grades in the top 3% of the class. I had a side-gig in helping people improve their essay skills.

So, when I talked about being an empath, my friends believed me. They proudly proclaimed the colors of their auras as I painted pictures for them.

And it felt good. I was both the center of attention and had no spotlight on me. I couldn’t see my own aura, so of course, I couldn’t tell them what mine was like. But theirs, oh, theirs? That was easy. I had a gift for telling them exactly what they needed to hear. I solved their problems in a flash, giving the perfect advice and predicting outcomes using nothing more than good old-fashioned vibes.

An empathic gift, of course. Understanding and unselfish love are tenets of the Empath Way. We’re healers, I told my friends, and that’s why people ask me for advice. It’s why I’m so good at it, I said. I never took my own advice about self-love and choosing better relationships — that wouldn’t come until several years later — but that didn’t matter. My issues were trivial; I had The World to worry about.

Despite my newness to the empath scene, I positioned myself as not just an expert but The Expert. It wasn’t really on purpose. I couldn’t help myself. My friends wanted me to be a wise, trusted source of information, so I was one. Or, well, I thought I was one.

The goal was never to fool anyone. I believed with my whole heart that I was an empath, a Starseed, someone born to do noble things and help people. It was my purpose. As an empath, I had a duty to spread good vibes whenever I could. If I couldn’t do that, I was worth nothing.

Sometimes, that meant talking out my ass about concepts I read about at a bleary 1:00 AM before having to wake up at 6:00 to catch the bus to school on time. If I made something up or said something untrue, it was because it “felt right.” And that made it simply right in my mind. Those books and blog posts and articles said it was.

As far as experts go, I definitely was not one. I hesitate even now to call myself an expert in anything whatsoever. But back then, it was a matter of course. My friends wanted advice, so I gave them advice.

My friends wanted me to be an empath, so I was one. Some of those friends felt the same things I did. Others’ emotions, the burden of it all, the weight of responsibility for everyone around us. We were empaths together.

I was never more alone, and I had absolutely no idea.

Downward Spiral

At the time, I wouldn’t have called it a spiral. I wouldn’t have called it a mental health crisis. And I certainly wouldn’t have blamed the whole empath thing for any of it.

No. Of course not.

As I graduated high school, I was entirely adrift. I had absolutely no idea what I wanted to do with my life. All of my friends were going to be leaving for college elsewhere while I stayed home to go to a local one.

But that summer, I was intent on enjoying every last minute of my life. It was time to take charge of my existence. I still called myself an empath, but it was more like a personality trait than anything else. An explanation, a fun fact. I’m double jointed, I dislike sweets, I’m an empath.

And my friends were empaths, too. Well, most of us. One was a “brick wall” of a guy — a skeptic who found us fascinating and wanted very much to believe in what we were doing and saying. At the same time, one friend was getting into Wicca. And, afraid to look like a fool, I pretended I knew all about it. I knew generally what Wicca was, because of the empath stuff running over into witchcraft circles. It was enough to sound competent, and that was enough!

So, suddenly, I was The Expert on Wicca and witchcraft and magic. A lot of it was stuff I really did do and believe, so it was simple to fill in the gaps with logic. And what I couldn’t make up, I ignored. Or I looked it up later and pretended I knew all along.

Anxiety was my constant companion. I was an imposter in my own life. This was just one more act to put on.

And because of my empath abilities, it was easy! I could determine the right thing to say at the right time. I read the room, felt my friends’ energies, and adapted accordingly. We did rituals and cast spells, and through it all, I relied heavily on my ability to read them clearly.

So when I failed to read one friend and it cost us everything, it was devastating.

I won’t go into details to protect their identity. The entire thing was… ugly. I spent a long time miserable over it. But I knew, even when I was heartbroken over it, that it was my fault. The empath in me was clinging to everything too hard, seeing what I wanted to see instead of what was. I needed to be The Expert, and I was failing at it.

There’s a lot about that time that I don’t remember clearly. What I do remember is a lot of stuff about past lives, reincarnating together, and misguided notions of deities and magic and history. It was a mess. One delusion fed into another, building into a web of intricate, interweaving stories. We were encouraging each other’s theories and beliefs and feelings without criticism, because to challenge one person was to challenge the entire structure.

And we couldn’t do that. Because to do that would mean admitting that we were all lying.

Because it would mean I wasn’t an empath, wasn’t special, wasn’t anything. I was just me, and I’d be back to square one with no clue about what was wrong with me.

That house of cards was years in the making. When that friend split off and stopped talking to us (to me), I thought it was going to come crumbling down. And in many ways, it did.

I dropped out of college barely two weeks into the second semester because I was failing every course but one. I started seeing a therapist, and then another one, and then a psychiatrist. I received words for my anxiety and even ADHD. Things started getting better, little by little.

Lingering Problems

I reconnected with someone from high school by chance. We got very close. I helped raise her new baby. Things were good.

And then, old habits rose. The need to be Right and Expert ate me alive, even though I recognized them as symptoms of anxiety. But with this reconnected friend feeding into my insecurities, echoing those feelings of inadequacy and out-of-place-ness and a need to belong somewhere and to mean something, it was hard to logically sort those thoughts.

Everything was about being an empath. Our shared difficulties, our pains, our burdens — all of it was because we were empaths. We were empaths because of lingering past lives.

I won’t get into those, either, because they’re so incredibly specific, and I don’t want the people involved to see this and Know. Just know that our lives revolved around being empaths — special, sensitive, powerful, and made for infinitely complex purpose.

People who weren’t empaths were simultaneously lucky and pitiable. They would never know what it’s like to walk into a room and Understand everyone there. They would never have to bear the weight of someone else’s grief.

I wouldn’t say we looked down on non-empaths, necessarily. At least, not on purpose or consciously. Their lack of skill wasn’t their fault, after all. They were normal. We were special.

Notably, this is when I stopped using the term “starseed” at all — it was close, but not good enough to describe what we were feeling. It was a woefully human way to understand what we were, you see. A convenient word that didn’t encapsulate us, because we were special, even among the ever-special starseeds. We didn’t have a word for what we were. We didn’t really need one, because we didn’t need to describe ourselves to each other. We just Knew.

When I read my friends’ auras and described their energetic feelings to them (which I was an expert at by that point; my natural empath abilities had been honed to a fine edge), I was as thorough as possible. Mostly, I was accurate. Anytime I wasn’t, it was because of someone’s protective barriers or natural resistance to being read. We went to cemeteries so I could commune with spirits and tell my friends all about their energies. They couldn’t exactly challenge me about it, so they accepted what I said as Truth.

I was their Leader. How could I possibly be fallible?

It was, in the end, the accuracy of it that kept me in the empath mindset. The positive feedback loop I’d created for myself just confirmed my empath feelings. And if those were right, then everything else must’ve been, too — because it all came from the same place.

It just made sense.

I kept a journal off and on during those years. Reading through it now is… well, it’s harrowing. The entries are dated. Much of it is free-writing, a technique I still use today as a warm-up exercise. But almost all of it is a cry for help. It details hallucinations, delusions, nightmares, dissociative episodes, depressive episodes, manic spirals, and more.

If someone were to share this with me today, I would suggest they seek help with their mental state immediately. At the time, I believed myself to be receiving visions of the past. I believed that my empathic abilities were opening me up to a long lineage of lives I could tap into and, perhaps, return to one day.

There is a small, injured part of myself that wishes I could return to those feelings. No matter how unhealthy it really was, it made me feel strong and special and wanted in a time when I knew, deep down, that I was none of those things.

It was a comfortable lie. I knew that the past lives were bullshit. I did. I can admit that now. It was a series of elaborate lies built on lies built on lies.

And yet, I still firmly knew I was an empath. That kernel of truth never wavered. It was the foundation.

I was slowly teaching myself magic during these years. I’d been doing spirit work and tarot for years already, so the craft was almost second nature. It took a back seat to the rest, but it was there.

Even as my relationships grew less and less stable, I had magic and spirits and my empath abilities to fall back on. Surely everything would be alright.

By Tooth and Claw

After the unhealthy friendship I described above dissolved rather spectacularly, I spent a few more years harboring the past life stories. They morphed slowly into fiction, and I gradually lost interest. My remaining friends from that group and I would talk with disdain about the one we’d cut out; she wasn’t good enough. She was lying.

Because our memories were different, you see.

The justifications we crafted were as elaborate as any other lie we told. She really was a manipulative person whose goal was to “own” our friendship — and we acknowledged that. But we still couldn’t shatter the veneer between all of us that the rest was all lies.

So we left it. We didn’t talk about it again. But it lived on in my mind and in that digital journal. It haunted me.

And, as all toxic friendships built on shared lies tend to do, that relationship also imploded.

It left me utterly friendless. I had no one but my partner at the time, and even that relationship wasn’t exactly going well. I was questioning my sexuality all over again, and I’d just started acknowledging the whole Gender thing, and I had no one to talk to about any of it. It was a miserable existence, but I’d still rather have no friends at all than have friends like those.

I abandoned all of it. Without the people who propped up the lies, there was no need for me to keep going. I stopped with the past lives stuff, I stopped all the magic, I stopped my spirit work, and I stopped calling myself an empath.

It was… Well, it was easy. Shockingly so.

Healing from the rest was decidedly not easy. It took a lot of hard work and introspection. I had to own up to the lies I told myself and others, even if I was never going to be able to have the closure-inducing conversations with them.

I decided to start choosing myself. I made new friends. I dumped my boyfriend who I hadn’t been in love with for over a year (or maybe longer). I started dating my current partner. I let myself move on.

I’m now about seven years out of that last friendship, and I finally feel like I’ve moved on.

My laptop died. I saved my necessary files and moved them to my current PC.

I didn’t bring the journal over.

The Draw and the Cost

When you’re a scared, sad, lonely person, you’ll go looking for fulfillment anywhere. You’ll accept whatever others give you if it means they’ll value you for even a single moment.

Positive feedback means everything to someone who has never received it before. When you have to work hard for an ounce of attention or affection at home, you come to expect that you’ll always have to do that everywhere you go.

I remember when Facebook became a thing just as I was starting to become my own person in high school. Liking pages called things like “Getting caught in the rain with your best friend” and “Ultra kawaii girlz do it best!” and “Sorry I read your mind, I’m an empath LOLZ” and “RANDOM TACO MUSTACHE PANDA ATTACK!” was par for the course after school. (Sorry for the psychic damage.)

I also remember the first call-out post I ever saw on Facebook. It was about some girl in my grade who I didn’t know. The girl who posted it was an empath, of course, and accused the other girl of being a fake, cheating liar. I don’t know if it was true. At the time, I took it at face value — after all, the accuser was an empath. Empaths don’t lie. Obviously.

I still struggle with compulsive lying. I suspect I always will. The drive to be an Expert is a part of me that I’ll never be able to get rid of. The need to be accepted and appreciated, too, will never leave me. It’s part of why I love this platform, and all other forms of written communication, over speaking to people verbally. While I can usually catch myself before I tell a reflexive, unnecessary lie these days, I sometimes slip. It’s an embarrassing thing. I try to force myself to admit it and then tell the truth.

Usually, I succeed. It’s a work in progress.

But typing, I can backspace. I can delete shit. I can keep things in my drafts and edit them and adjust wording to my heart’s content. I can remove messages and take things back. It’s easier to say “I was wrong” or “This wasn’t true” to strangers on the internet, after all.

Now, as I near thirty years old, I have better language to describe what I was feeling. The overwhelming emotions from everyone around me, the overload I felt in crowds, the reflex to please everyone, the uncanny ability to read a room’s atmosphere at a glance…

I was an undiagnosed autistic child with serious trauma and unmedicated ADHD. I needed help. I asked for help. Everything I did was a cry for help.

I wanted to feel special. I wanted to feel powerful. I wanted to feel useful and valuable. I wanted to feel different in a way that was manageable.

I wanted language to describe myself that was empowering. “Empath” was empowering and manageable and useful and valuable and powerful and special. It felt good. And because it felt good, it felt right. And because it felt right, it was a solid band-aid on the open wound of my life. “Empath” was an escape from the reality of my situation. It made everything easier to bear.

I’m sad because I’m an empath, and someone in homeroom was crying.

I’m angry because my parents’ fight leaked into every corner of the house, and I couldn’t help but absorb it into myself like a sponge, because I’m an empath.

I’m so happy I can’t contain myself, and I have to flail and jump around, because everyone around me is cheering and singing and dancing, and I feel it all like a growing avalanche that echoes through the walls of my body and rings in my bones as a song I cannot contain. Because I’m an empath.

I’m always being hurt because nasty people are attracted to my empath abilities. It makes me an easy target. That’s just how it is, and that’s how it’ll always be, because I’m an empath.

I’m too sensitive, too soft, too emotional, because I’m an empath.

Every step I take away from the “empath” label is done with the full knowledge that without it, I wouldn’t have survived. I needed something to cling to, and “empath” was enough to keep me afloat. Although I didn’t realize it at the time, I was looking for Meaning.

Besides, “empath” was an easier word to swallow than “traumatized” or “abused” or “mentally ill.” It didn’t taste as bitter. I didn’t choke on it.

There were no resources for me. All I had was what I could fashion myself out of bubble gum and black sharpie and sheer force of will and please God, if you are there, let me live another day. Everything I am, I owe to my own two hands and luck.

I don’t need the “empath” label anymore. I’ve outgrown it. I recognize it for what it is now: a patchwork explanation for other phenomena in my life that are better explained from a psychiatric standpoint — and from a truly philosophical, spiritual one.

To this day, talking about empaths and twin flames and starseeds and past lives and everything that goes with those things remains a trigger. It gets easier and easier to manage, but I still blacklist those tags. I avoid it at all costs. Empaths I can manage, for the most part. Twin flames I won’t abide; soul mates are on thin ice. Starseeds are a crock of shit for a whole bunch of other reasons. Past lives… it’s the only thing I won't really talk about at all.

And I ask you kindly, please, don’t ask.

Where I Stand

I’m still paying the costs of all this. When you spend most of your life under immense stress, having yearly crises of one kind or another, it kind of fucks you right up.

A few years ago, I returned to witchcraft. I started small. I did a little simmer pot to welcome myself to my brand-new apartment. A little protection here, a short meditation there. It felt good. I didn’t feel like I was slipping backwards.

After that, I returned to spirit work and divination. My old allies welcomed me back with open arms. It was a relief to unwrap my tarot cards and find the spirit attached to them still there. I set up a little altar space for them. Things were good.

I returned to the cemeteries. I apologized. The conversations I was having with those spirits were real, but I wasn’t respecting them the way I should’ve. We made a deal to even those scales, and I’ve paid in full. Those relationships are better than ever. Some of those spirits have followed me, per our agreements, and I work with them regularly.

And things are good. I haven’t done any backsliding. Last year, I allowed myself to question the nature of the universe and theories on magic and how it actually works. I made the connection with Lady Fate and drew up a theory on connections in magic. And it was fine. It is fine.

I’m extremely alert to the signs. I remain critical of my experiences. But I’m letting my personal practice be… casual. Natural. It’s just for me, not a performance. It doesn’t need to be spectacular or even produce results. It just has to be gratifying.

I started this blog for myself. I wanted to encourage myself to try new things and get out there again. It’s hard to make friends and connect with people, and I’m wary of IRL groups — for good reasons I’m sure you can guess at.

It’s been extremely cool to get to interact with people here. I get to vet people before I ever talk to someone. I can sweep their blog for signs of things I want to (need to) avoid. Blocking people is good for my health. This is the safest environment I’ve ever had to explore, communicate, get feedback, read criticism, and learn about witchcraft.

I am immensely grateful to my various lovely Tumblr mutuals, to my Discord pals, and to the folks I follow in all my witchy spaces. It’s through great effort that I’m able to talk about this stuff at all. I wouldn’t have realized I could if not for a brief mention in a private Discord server about doing a post about being an ex-empath.

It’s been so long since I’ve thought about it. It all feels so far away now. I know the distance is a testament to my own hard work. The difference between my mental health then and now is staggering. Even on my worst days now, I am nowhere near that level of Bad.

Where do I stand? On my own two damn feet, that’s where.

A Bit of Advice

I will never use the “empath” label again. I don’t think anyone should, though I understand the appeal. Obviously. You’ve read this far, I’d be surprised if you thought I don’t get it.

Instead, explore what you’re actually experiencing. Are you showing signs of a manic-depressive cycle? Are you having symptoms of anxiety, autism, ADHD, or depression? Do you know what depersonalization and dissociation are, and what they feel like? How about synesthesia, such as mirror-touch synesthesia, which can help explain why you feel a touch on someone else’s skin as though it was on your own? What feels bad, and why? Is your home life fraught, or was it? Are you looking for ways to cope with feelings that are too large to contain?

Do a simple search for “empath traits.” Check out any list of qualities empaths have. Make note, in particular, of the traits you identify with. Now take a look at a list of, say, “autism traits” or “PTSD traits.” Check out the overlap between them.

It’s important to consider mundane causes and mundane solutions. My greatest mistake when I picked up the “empath” label was that I believed there were no resources for me. I even said it up above that there were none.

But there were. Trusted teachers, the guidance counselor, the youth council director. Clubs, support groups. There were places I could have gone, but I was so far inside my own mind that I couldn’t see them. And the people around me were so dazzled by my false confidence that they couldn’t see how badly I was struggling. Admitting I needed help was akin to admitting defeat, and I couldn’t do that.

But you can.

“Empath” Alternatives

When I went looking for other accounts of people leaving the “empath” label, I was surprised to find… not a lot of bitterness. Then again, maybe I shouldn’t have been surprised. “Empaths” are often of the “love and light” persuasion, and that sort of philosophy isn’t always so easily let go of. Empathy for our past selves and the community surrounding even the most toxic of concepts is par for the course, don’t you think?

The primary thing most ex-empaths share in common (from what I’ve seen) is that they’ve outgrown the label in some way. Whether they realize why they picked up the label is hit or miss. Some, like myself, drop it almost unthinkingly after years of using it to define ourselves and only realize years later why we used it and what it did to us. Others leave it behind by choice, opting for more up-to-date terminology or paths.

I know this might be a little surprising. After all, I’m a witch. I do magic, and I work with spirits. Surely I believe in empaths as a concept, even if I ended up not being one.

No, I don’t. Not really. Some people really are naturally sensitive to others’ energy and/or feelings, and energy work is a real thing that you can do.

But the “empath” label isn’t helpful. If anything, it’s reductive. Why would you want to reduce the plethora of abilities and skills at your fingertips to a single word? Why submit to a rigid, fantastical definition that encourages self-martyrdom and unhealthy social behaviors when reality is much more interesting?

If you really feel drawn to calling yourself an “empath,” consider why that is. You’re sensitive, you’ve got an interest in the supernatural, you want to dip your toes into magic, or you just Know You’re Different?

Primarily, consider the fact that you’re likely neurodivergent in some way. See the above section about that, and do those trait searches again. Be really honest with yourself.

Secondarily, consider simple energy work instead. Rather than relying on a prescribed set of traits laid out like a cheap newspaper astrology column that’s so vague it could apply to anyone with the right spin because it’s been written by someone who doesn’t know what a Capricorn is, focus on an actual goal.

The first mistake people who pick up the “empath” label make is the assumption that they’re Special and Different. While you are a unique human being, you’re no more special or different than the guy next to you on the bus who’s got the spiritual sense of a lump of clay. You don’t need to be special or different. You just need to be human.

Sensing certain types of energy (like emotional energy) might come naturally to you. That’s great! It’s a real strength that you might have; it’s one that I certainly have, and it helped to confirm my “empath” related delusions described up above. Instead of resting on your laurels about having this talent, put some work into it. Figure out how to manipulate your own energy. See if you can feel plants’ energy or just people’s. Research the various methods of energy visualization and manipulation. Read some theory. Learn how to read auras if you can see them.

(Which, by the way, I can’t. I’m on the more severe side of aphantasia, and I can’t visually imagine jack shit. The whole “reading auras” thing I talk about up above is a big old lie. I can work off of vibes and sensations to give an approximation of an impression of what something might look like, but that’s it. I’m basically blind in that regard. What I lack in sight, I make up for in my other senses, though, so it’s not a huge loss.)

If you’ve got a talent for guessing outcomes to things, you might find success in divination. Pick up some cards, dice, or literally any other method you like and give it a whirl. See what works and be honest with yourself when it doesn’t. At the end of the day, the most important thing is that: Be honest with yourself. It’s fucking hard. I know. Trust me, do I know. [Gestures to the above emphatically.]

Learn discernment skills. If you don’t know what that is or what it means or how to discern, there are a bunch of good guides out there. I’m sure I can scrounge up a couple to reblog in the wake of this post.

You cannot fix someone else’s problems. You cannot be a permanent balm on someone else’s life. Your worth does not lie in the service of others. Your life is not worth less than theirs. You should not be a sacrifice in the name of someone else’s carelessness. You aren’t responsible for the emotional well-being of everyone around you.

You don’t need to be “special” to ask for help. You don’t need a magical label to stand up for yourself and ask for accommodations. You are allowed to have feelings and react to other people’s existence and feel overwhelmed and experience second-hand emotion without putting yourself on the martyr’s pedestal.

Decide what you actually want from being an “empath,” and be honest with yourself. Do you want to use the “empath” label because it makes you feel less alone? Less scared? Less like a freak? Ask why you feel that way in the first place. What’s the thing wearing fear like a shroud? What is its true name?

And honestly, if you can’t subscribe to the “empath” label or do energy work or spirit work or magic or whatever without it risking your mental health… don’t. Just don’t.

Because I can attest, the band-aid doesn’t work. It won’t last forever. You’ll have to face the monster behind the mask sooner or later, and it’s significantly better to do it when you’ve got the choice.

Trust me. I’d know.

(Oh, and by the by: Don’t be mean or try to shame people using the empath label using my experiences. I won’t be a cudgel for you to swing at somebody else. Share this with whoever, but be kind about it.)

Hoo Boy, That Was a Lot, Huh?

Well. Like I said, this whole thing got away from me in a serious way. I’ve got other things I should be working on, but this… well, it took over my brain. Once I started typing, I couldn’t stop. And now here we are.

If you read this whole thing, thanks. No, seriously. It means a lot. I hope you got something out of it.

I mentioned somewhere in this whole thing that I don’t talk about this stuff. For the most part, that’s because I just don’t think about it anymore. It’s all in the past. But if my story can help someone or inform someone out there, well. Here it is. I’m open to questions. Respectful ones, mind you. I won’t be talking about past lives at all at this point, so like I said before, don’t ask. But any of the other stuff… [shrug]. Shoot. Some things I’ll have to omit or leave unanswered for the privacy of my past friends and relationships. And some things I just won’t talk about because it’s frankly none of your business.

But yeah. I’m releasing this into the wild. I almost decided to not publish this at all, but I think it's too important to keep to myself. I’ve given it a cursory look-over for grammar, but… honestly, I think it’s good the way it is. It’s honest.

And these days, that’s all I aim to be.

Shilling

Anyhow, doing words is my living these days. If you like these words or other ones I’ve written up, throw a couple dollars in my bread jar. Thanks again.

[Harmonica fades into the distance]

[thebeanofdoom]

Fanfic recommendation time!

I know its way past Christmas already but I found this fanfic while scrolling through AO3 and oh my God, even though its "only" 13 chapters, it felt like an entire novel! I love how you could slowly see Soap and Ghost falling for each other, even if the two didn't notice yet. Do prepare some tissues for the last chapter though ｡･(つд`｡)･｡ (also, featuring SimonRiley'sFatherFigure!Price and JohnMacTavish'sBestFriend!Gaz)

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: Gen, M/M

Fandom: Call of Duty (Video Games)

Relationship: John "Soap" MacTavish/Simon "Ghost" Riley

Characters: John "Soap" MacTavish, Simon "Ghost" Riley, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, John Price (Call of Duty), Kate Laswell, Original Male Character(s), Original Female Character(s)

Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Aftermath of Torture, Injury Recovery, Fluff and Angst, Domestic Fluff, Canon-Typical Violence, No Smut, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Nightmares, Christmas Fluff, Christmas, Angst with a Happy Ending, Religious Guilt, it’s happy ending i swear, Soft Simon "Ghost" Riley, Simon "Ghost" Riley Loves John "Soap" MacTavish, John "Soap" MacTavish Loves Simon "Ghost" Riley, tagging is KILLIMG me will update l8er, Internalized Homophobia, Getting Together, see individual chapters for content warnings!, Medical Inaccuracies

Language: English

"There was only so much you could do to a dead man, you see, before he became more of a liability than an advantage. In theory, the idea of not killing Ghost— of keeping him alive, taking him back to the base and torturing all the information they could get out of him was a good one. However, in practice, the issue became more complicated.

Or— Ghost is sent home to recover after being victim to cartel torture, and then Soap shows up."

Side note: there will be added warnings in the notes of the fanfic, so be sure to check those out if mentions of s*xual abuse/r*pe are a trigger for you!

[merrock]

CHARACTER INFORMATION

face claim: Matthew Daddario

full name: Dane Keanu Byers

nickname(s) / goes by: D, Byers

pronouns & gender: he/him, cis man

sexuality: bisexual

birth date: July 4, 1991

birth place: Honolulu, Hawaii

arrival to merrock: July 9, 2022

housing: a small house on the Coast & Pier

occupation: car seller and mechanic

work place: NA.

family: broke off all ties with his parents

relationship status: single

PERSONALITY

Despite his puppy eyes and his charming smile, Dane is not someone you can trust. Used to making his own path into this world, he is resourceful and clever, but he is also selfish, thinking about his own interests before anyone else’s. When he gets closer to someone, it is always hard to know if he is genuine or if he is trying to get something out of the relationship. But despite those bad sides, Dane remains the life of the party, always down for shenanigans.

WRITTEN BY: Ana (she/her), gmt.

BACKGROUND / BIO

triggering / sensitive content: alcoholism tw, abuse tw, toxic relationship tw.

Born from an Italian mother and an American father, Dane grew up near the water. Soothing by the sound of the sea, the young boy had no issue making a place for himself in the world, creating some strong friendships and idealizing his life in Honolulu, knowing that this was the best place in the world and the only location he could ever live in.

But at the age of 12, he had to move. As his father got a new job opportunity on the East coast, the whole family had to leave the island in order to head to the mainlander part of the US. Such a big change in his life combined to puberty created a new Dane, less inclined to obey his parents – with whom he already had some issues – and more focused on doing stupid things. They did not know it back then, but what was supposed to be a positive change in the Byers life turned into the beginning of a nightmare. As the teenager was doing his best to make his parents pay for the move, the father became more and more addicted to alcohol. His job opportunity was not as great as he thought it would be, but the family had spent their entire savings to make the move from the island to the East coast, making Dane’s father turn towards his bottles in desperation. While the one-glass per day slowly turned into more as the months went by, the dad changed, too. He couldn’t bear critics nor remarks, he couldn’t bear his teenage son calling him a coward and a loser. Dane still remembers those late nights. He still remembers the fights and the abuse he would suffer, his father making sure that he would find in this dynamic the power he had lost in his job even though it meant hurting his own child.

At the age of 18, the male escaped from his messy family by taking a job as a mechanic in a garage nearby. That is where he met Grant, a fifty-something who put enough faith in Dane to let him repair his vintage car. Happy with the result, the older male started to recommend the mechanic to his friends, allowing the younger man to create a network. Building a life of his own, Dane started traveling through the East coast, wherever someone would need him to rebuild their car until he eventually started to sell them, too. In his hands, a vintage car could get a second life and he could make dollars out of it.

But everything was not safe in his hands. Dane’s charming smile was a trap and he became one to Vivienne. She was beautiful, wild, younger… and naive. With her, he felt free. With her, he felt powerful. For the first time, he was not the one being submissive. For once, he was the one with power, the one in charge. Dane fell for her for the wrong reasons, unable to see that he was toxic to the girl. He could only see the benefits he was getting from this relationship, convinced that she was on the same wavelength. And yet, there was no doubt in his mind when things went south and Vivienne got arrested. Dane had too much to lose. He sacrificed his girlfriend.

Feeling guilty about it in his loneliest nights, the male went back to his life, expanding his network and making a name for himself. Eventually, a new job offer came to him. Someone needed his skills in Merrock, Viv’s hometown. And although the money was big, knowing that his ex-girlfriend might be there was another good reason to accept the deal.

[my-emotional-self]

Toxic Love Chapter 9

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes

Summary: Finding out your soulmates were Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes was one thing.  But when someone from your past comes back to haunt you, you have to figure out if a relationship with two super soldiers is something you really want to pursue or if you’d rather go back to your comfortable single life.

Series Warnings:  18+, Swearing, Angst, Fluff, past mentions of rape, self-harm, attempted rape, domestic violence, stalking, death threats, possible Dark!Steve?, Steve will be an asshole a LOT in this series but I don’t know how dark it will get, explicit sexual content, mental health issues, kind of A/B/O dynamics but not really (no they are not actual wolves, more like the hierarchy), mentions of suicide, flashbacks of suicide, nightmares

A/N: There will be no taglist for this story!  I apologize in advance!

Three nights.  Three blissful sleep filled nights.  It had been awhile since you slept the whole night through.  Whether it be stress, nightmares, your other medication keep you up or having to work, there was always something that stopped you from getting a full nights rest. But this new one week trial of sleep medication that Dr. Wang put you on was a miracle worker.  The only downside was that you only had four tablets left. If you wanted more, you would have to make an appointment with her.  It was necessarily a bad thing, but how you would go about getting out of the tower without the buddy system was beyond you.  

The downside of the last three days?  The new dosage of your medication didn’t seem to be working.  And Dr. Wang had discussed that with you too.  If the dosing wasn’t working, you may have to switch medications all together and that too would require an in office visit.  

Your irritation had gotten downright horrible along with your intense bouts of anger.  Even if someone was chewing their food a certain way, it drove you crazy.  So, instead of trying to hang out with Darcy or Pepper or Clint, you found yourself stuck in your room for almost 72 hours straight.  

But then you started to have the ongoing feelings of emptiness.  Without Steve or Bucky and you being cooped up in your room because you just couldn’t handle the sound or annoyance of anyone at the moment, you were lonely.  So lonely. The last thing you wanted to do was let Steve or Bucky know while they were on a mission.  You didn’t want to distract them and get them hurt.  

At times you found your thoughts racing a mile a minute.  ‘What if they just decide one day they no longer like me and want nothing to do with me’ or ‘what if they find out about my mental health and leave me’. Yep.  A lot of thoughts of rejection and abandonment were also starting to creep into your mind.  

But at least you were getting good sleep.  And no more threats either.  You hadn’t worked in a few days and as much as you wanted to, it was hard to get out of bed.  

By day nine you were going absolute out of your mind.  Your medications clearly weren’t working anymore and now you had run out of the sleep medicine too.  You emailed Dr. Wang but with your stroke of luck, she was out of the office for the rest of the week and her scheduled was booked up for another two weeks after that. They marked you down for an appointment in exactly 19 days.  You weren’t sure how you were supposed to last that long, but you decided to dig deep and find as much willpower as possible.

On day ten, you were just about to head down to your game room and get to work.  You needed the distraction.  

Walking out of your room you were shocked to see Steve and Bucky coming off the elevator.  They were supposed to be gone for another two days you thought.  

“Hey!  Welcome back!” you cheered, happy to see them.  Bucky gave you a soft smile as Steve dropped his shield on the ground angrily; the sound echoing around the apartment.  Putting your foot in your mouth, words came tumbling from your lips.  “Great. Crabby Steve is back.”

His head snapped towards you, a menacing scowl on his face.  “Excuse me?” he growled angrily.

You rolled your eyes, not wanting to deal with sour mood.  

“Did you just roll your eyes at me?” he barked out, storming towards you.  He took in your appearance and you realized you didn’t have anything covering up the dark circles under your eyes.  “When’s the last time you got any sleep?”  Not even answering him, you shrugged your shoulders and walked right on passed him.  “You answer me when I speak to you!”

“I don’t know Steve!” you yelled back at him.  

If looks could kill, you would be six feet under.   “Don’t even think about going down to work right now.  You get back in your room and get some goddamn rest!”

“Steve, calm down,” Bucky urged, wanting to help dissolve the tension.

“I will not calm down Bucky,” he countered, his eyes never leaving yours.

You pressed the button on the elevator.  “I’m going to work Steve.  You can’t stop me.  I haven’t worked since the second night I moved in.”

Steve’s shoulders relaxed just an inch, but you could still tell he was pissed.  “I want you back up here at a descent hour and in bed.  Do you understand me?”

As the elevator doors closed, Steve could hear you say ‘Yeah, yeah, yeah’.

Alone in the elevator, you gave into your anger and punched and kicked the steel door, screaming profanities.  You had to admit, it made you feel better.

Getting off on the communal floor, you saw Natasha in the kitchen.  

“From the way Steve is acting, I’m going to guess the mission didn’t go as planned?” you asked.

“That would be correct,” Natasha replied, never looking up at the stack of papers in front of her.  “We’ll get them next time.”

As the night went on, you realized this was the kind of distraction you needed.  Why you hadn’t done this the whole time Steve and Bucky were gone was beyond you.  You were having a blast, interacting with your followers, killing the villains and just having an all-around good time.   Your body was less tense and for the first time in days, you were smiling.

Time got the best of you and by the time you were logging off, you realized it was after six in the morning.  At this point, you didn't care.  You were on a high from kicking some major gaming ass.  And to top it all off, no threatening messages from JSmith20 tonight.  

The communal kitchen was void of anyone and you got out the bread and plugged in the toaster, feeling hungry for the first time in days.  It was only seconds later when the elevator doors opened and out walked Steve, Clint and Natasha.  They were all wearing their workout clothes.  

“Damn.  You’re up early,” Clint joked as he began making a pot of coffee.  You saw Steve come to stand next to you out of the corner of your eye.  Hopefully he was in a better mood this morning.  

You snorted at him, shaking your head.  “More like I’m up way too late.”  You didn’t even think about the words that came out of your mouth as you finished buttering your toast and placed it on a glass plate.  

Grabbing your plate of toast, you turned around and started walking towards the elevator.  The sound of a fist slamming on the granite table stopped you dead in y our tracks.  

“I specifically told you to get to bed early last night.  Did I not?”  Yep, he still wasn’t in a good mood and you probably just made it ten times worse.

“You did,” came your short reply as you turned around to face him.  

His jaw was clenched so hard you were surprised he didn’t break any teeth.  He pointed upstairs and began to yell louder.  “I want you to get your ass upstairs right now and get the fuck to bed!  I don’t want you coming out of your room until I tell you to!”

Embarrassment flooded your cheeks at being yelled at in front of people.  Who the hell does he think he is telling you to go to your room like a fucking child?  You had never felt such intense anger than you did in this moment.  Without a second thought, you chucked your glass plate at his head.  You would have hit him but he saw it coming and he ducked out of the way.  The glass shattering into pieces on the floor.  

“Fuck you Steve!” you screamed so loud you felt your vocal cords vibrate in your throat.  The room fell silent as you turned on your heels and slammed open the door to the stairs.  Fuck waiting for the elevator.  

You took the stairs two at a time; your hands balled into fists.  Blood was rushing to your ears and you didn’t hear your name being called angrily by Steve.

As you got to your floor, you kicked open the door and headed down the hallway to your room. All you wanted to do was scream. Scream and throw something and punch things.  You needed to get this pent up anger out of you somehow or you felt like you were going to explode.  

You extended your arm to reach the scanner on your door but you never made it.  Instead, Steve gripped onto your wrist, yanking you away.

“Let me go!” you screamed, trying to kick at him, but it was no use.  He had you pinned to the wall; his legs pushed against yours and his hands against your shoulders.  You were stuck.  Stupid super soldier strength.  

“What in the ever loving fuck is wrong with you?” Steve demanded, his face so close to yours that you could feel his warm breath.  

And you didn’t even know how to answer him.  Because in that moment, seeing such rage burning behind Steve’s eyes, you were turned on.  Oh fuck were you so turned on in that moment.  You wanted him to drag you into your room and have complete rough and carnal sex.  

Your shoulders were pinned to the wall by Steve’s firm grip, but your arms were still free to move around. As your eyes never left his, you picked up your right hand and grabbed Steve’s hand.  His body stiffened against you, but he didn’t move.  But once he noticed what you were doing, his eyes widened.

“What the fuck is going on here?” Bucky demanded as he saw Steve’s hand around your neck.  

[hughiecampbelle]

Being The Smartest Shelby Would Include:

Polly knew you were smart from the start

She said so when you were a baby, but of course no one believed her

Everyone thought their kids were special, but you really were

Born just a few years before Finn, you weren't the baby, but you definitely weren't the oldest, so it was hard to be taken seriously

It started with your homework

You spent a lot of nights trying to tell your siblings it was just too easy

You weren't just getting every answer right, you were finishing pages of work in minutes, faster than anyone in your class

Eventually, you moved on to your brothers work

Finding it discarded on the table, you recognized Johns scraggly handwriting

He'd only made it halfway through, so you decided to finish it, even fixing some of his mistakes along the way

You wanted to show them what you'd done, but of course no one listened

At least, not until you stood on your chair and demanded that someone look over your work

It was a bit dramatic, and made for an embarassing story later, but you wanted to be heard

They did, finally, and they were shocked

Tommy handed it to John, who passed to Ada, skipping over Arthur, who eventually got it to Polly

"Well?"

"It's right, all of it. . . ."

"Fuck."

It wasn't just math though. You were reading every book you could find, even the ones your siblings struggled to get through

You had a knack for puzzles, for figuring things out no one else could, able to pull things apart and put them together just in your head

Polly knew, and she was going to do something about it

Anything she could find to keep you entertained, occupied, your mind at work, she'd bring it home

You had an incredible memory too, remembering everything from the contents on the back of bottles you brothers drank from to entire speeches Polly gave when all of you were misbehaving

It was amazing, to say the least

You were a kid when your brothers went off to war, so it was mostly Ada and Polly who spent long nights with you at the table over homework

You didn't think it was fair, that you were forced to stay in school when none of your siblings were

Polly called it a gift, said you shouldn't take it for granted

She had big plans for you, the kind of career kids like you could only dream of

Finn grows up with you reading to him every night

Even helping him with schoolwork, though that didn't last very long

It still irks you Polly let's Finn drop school, not even getting past reading himself, but you know better than to push the subject

By the time your brothers come back, thankfully all in one piece, you've become a bit of a myth or legend around the Small Heath

Not only are you taller and with more acne, a young teenager, you've made a name for yourself, and a business

After school you could be found with a hat on the ground, getting pocket change for your "abilities"

Showing off and splitting the money with friends, you put on shows

Memorizing the faces of strangers, drawing them almost perfectly by hand, reciting lines of poetry from class all from memory, etc.

Sometimes you bring Finn along, promising candy for his silence, making him part of the act

Your favorite is showing off the languages you've lesrned, switching between Romani, French, Italian, and German (to name a few) without a second thought, so effortlessly

Arthur caught you once, but instead of saying anything, he simply cheered you on, laughing at the fact that your business was doing better than the familys

You spent a lot of time in the shop like Finn, growing up there, but never really allowed in on business, not even to listen

Instead you were ordered to be quiet and focus on your studies

And you did, for a few years, slipping notes to John about what you thought would improve business, pressing your ear to the door to listen, putting up with being categorized as "one of the kids" with Finn

And then you made an announcement, one that almost killed Polly

You weren't going to university, and instead you'd be joining the family business

Your aunt put up a good fight, but your brothers were more than happy to welcome you, with rules of course

Ada wasn't too thrilled either, knowing how smart you were, and how special it was, but she wasn't going to stop you

Pol was, or at least she was going to try

"You could be anything you want y/n."

"And I choose this."

"You're-"

"Wasting my potential? So you've said."

You'd be more behind the scenes, working on the business side rather than the side with razors and guns

Your brothers were more than happy to hear that, though you'd gotten more than a few comments muttered by Pol

If you really wanted to, you could always be a doctor or a lawyer later in life, for now this is what you wanted most

You were finally part of your family

Within the first week, you have a full list of what could be improved and you're center stage in the family meeting

To say that was nerve wrecking was an understatement

Tommy had his doubts, of course, but John knew you'd been keeping their heads above water for a long time

"Go on then, you've got our attention."

You were the one they went to check over the books, the numbers, catching mistakes no one else did

It wasn't just spelling mistakes or addition issues, you were taking stock in inventory, in all the bullets that were wasted, the little things that went missing that no one seemed to notice

It didn't take long for you to work your way up, prove yourself not only to Tommy, but Pol too, showing her this wasn't a waste of your time

She's still not thrilled, but you're as stubborn as the rest, and she knows it's a losing battle

At least you're being smart with your work

Tommy made you check over every contract and agreement he made, making sure he didn't miss a single detail that would screw them over

He brought you to the races too, working out probability, though your math was shaky at best under that kind of pressure and uncertainty

You were the one counting the profits and losses too, weighing the options of whether or not to invest

You're really the only one who knows just how much the family makes

That is a dangerous thing in itself

You make friends quite easily

Not only can you speak an array of languages, bonding with everyone, but you've got that Shelby charm and good looks, too

You're quite popular, though your brothers constantly get in the way of any potential relationship

You're smart though, and not just for their gain, but yours too

If and when you're ready to date, you'll find a way

Alfie adores you

Tommy drives him mad, but he'd have you over any day

Not only does he love the fact that you can keep up with him, witty beyond belief, but your Hebrew is perfect

"So, you're the brains behind the whole operation?"

"Something like that."

You're brought along to a lot of in person deals

You pick up on things no one else does, remembering the littlest of things that can and will be weaponized if need be

Their kids and spouses names, the way they look at you, how they speak and carry themselves

It doesn't take long for you to know exactly who they are

"They're lying Tom. I know they are."

"How can you tell?"

"They look away when they answer, their eye twitches, and they always lean forward when they're saying something true."

"You got all that from a five minute conversation?"

You're not only their beloved little sibling, but the perfect weapon

They don't teach you how to use a gun, but you've been watching for years, making note of every tiny detail

When you do use a gun, which is inevitable, it's a perfect shot

Arthur and Tom insist you carry something with you, but you're fine sticking with a simple razor

The guns can stay with them. . . .

Not only does it come in handy with work, but your family, too

You pick up on the way Arthur escalates, talking him down before there's a full outburst

You know the nights Tommy does and doesn't sleep just by the sound of his voice, the way he signs his name

You know when to check up on Ada if she's not doing well after Freddies gone, even if no one else can see the hurt in her eyes

That's the thing everyone seems to forget, is that you're not only book smart, but people smart, too

Constantly making fun of your siblings right in front of them

"Pol, y/n's making fun of me!"

"I am not! You don't even speak Russian."

"No, but I can guess."

He'd never admit it to you, but Finn really is amazed by you

Ever since he was a kid he always looked up to you

School and homework and all that never came easy to him, and it lead to him giving up, so the fact that all of this comes so easy makes him proud to be your brother

"Y/n, curse in a language we all know or don't say it all."

Along with learning weapons along the way, you pick up on how to be a nurse, tending to whatever it needed

From your nieces and nephews scraped knees to bullet wounds

"Do not get blood on my new shirt!"

No one really suspects you to be listening or watching the way you do, so when they need it, you go "undercover"

Gaining the trust of the enemy, pretending to be a stranger that just so happens to get their attention as if you hadn't been figuring out what makes them tick, distracting them with drinks and small talk

If anything goes wrong, you picked up on how to get away, how to fight without getting too much attention, and not just by watching

With a memory like yours, there are some things you'd like to forget and can't

A lot of things do leave you with nightmares, with flashes of panic, with this dreadful feeling in your gut like you'd seen it all before

At one point or another you've called your siblings and aunt in the middle of the night, just to check up on them, see if they're okay

Begging your brothers to be more careful

They rarely ever listen though

"Is there anything you can't do?"

"I can't go on a date."

"Nope, not until you're forty."

"Come on Arthur, you can't scare them all away."

Despite all this, you're still treated like a child

Your siblings still see you as that smart little kid correcting their work and growing bored of even the most complicated things

No matter what you do or say, you'll always be small in their eyes

[rason-rodd]

All The Time We Need - Jason Todd x Fem!Reader (NSFW)

Summary: Reader and Jason meet again after two years being apart and reconnect with their long lost love.

Warning : Angst, Fluff, Smut  

Author’s note: A OS definitely inspired by my 2-years long hiatus and that somewhat acknowledges it. It was almost cathartic writing it and allowed me to reconnect with Jason on a writing scale. You can read it as a sequel to “Summer Love and Swimming Pool” or not. Some moments are a bit too cheesy to my taste but I hope you’ll enjoy it nevertheless. NSFW Part is at the end. You can skip that part if you want to.

You actually realise Time flies when you take time to acknowledge it. And sometimes acknowledging is like getting buried under a mountain of sand and feeling each grain slowly chocking you and reminding you there is no escaping. The sands of Time cannot be stopped, nor can they be shoveled. They run and slip through your fingers like dust in the wind and the tighter you try to grasp them the faster they go. And when they’re gone, there is no catching them back.     That’s why Time is scary. Because no matter what you do, it won’t allow you to go back or to put an end to it. And it will certainly not allow you to forget about it either. Time will pave your life until the day you die with a constant reminder that, unlike it, you’re not eternal. And the saddest thing is it doesn’t care about what you think of it.           And yet, it seemed like Jason Todd had managed to tell Time to go fuck itself. “How long has it been?”

He hadn’t changed a bit. Looking as handsome as ever. Always and eternally sporting the same disheveled short black hair and the same mischievous yet tortured blue eyes, eyes that had put you in more trouble than you could remember. “Two years or so … I don’t know.”             All you could remember was a passionate summertime infatuation that had burnt your body and your heart night and day like a hot and dazzling sun. A fading yet intense memory you secretly cherished and replayed in period of loneliness and that you couldn’t seem to be able to replace on the timeline of your life. “Still so beautiful, I see.” You scoffed and he chuckled. “What?”       “You haven’t changed a bit, have you?” He scratched his head; arm muscles compressed in a leather jacket à la Jason that made you wonder how he could bear wearing such a light jacket in such freezing weather. “I tend to believe constancy is a quality.” You goggled at his smile, childish, adorable yet naturally so seductive. The same smile that used to make your legs shake and turn to jell-o. “I didn’t know you were back in Gotham.”         “Right back at you. Last time I heard of you, you were in this little town … Hopletown, was it?”   “Appleton.” He corrected. “Looks like Timbo talks about me in my absence.”           “You’re his brother. Of course, he talks about you, just like everyone else in your family.” Judging by his signature small crooked smile on his face he seemed touched by your words, taking even time to ponder over them. Did the family really think of him in his absence?

Shivering, you tightened your wool coat around you, attempting to prevent the cold wind to infiltrate under the cloth and steal your body heat, as you let Jason think about what you had just said. But your reaction didn’t go unnoticed and it managed to pull him out of his train of thoughts. “Do you want to go somewhere warmer? We could have something to drink, catch on. I’m sure you got plenty to tell.”         “Not plenty but I could use a hot tea.” You confessed, already imagining the spicy smell of cinnamon and chai in your nostrils and the hot steam caressing your cold face.     “Amazing.” He grinned, genuinely happy and excited, a bit like a little boy at a toy store, and lowered your beanie to properly cover your ice-cold reddened ears. That gesture got you confused for a small second but it was so sweet and caring you eventually smiled. Ah Todd, always the overprotective type I see.

***

“So, what are you doing in Gotham City? I thought you wanted to ‘travel the world Dora The Explorer-style and get the hell out of this cesspool’?” He quoted you and your genuine chuckle made him smile but only briefly as you gained back your seriousness in a matter of seconds.

He could tell you were not the same girl he used to date two summers ago. You had changed, matured. You had become a woman, a woman who seemed to struggle with responsibilities so heavy they could crush her at any second. You looked tired, weary… sad even. The cheeky light in you was gone. And he wanted to know why. Not out of curiosity but to help you.           “Well, I did travel and it was awesome, like a dream come true. But I guess we always wake up from dreams eventually.” You looked down at your tea, looking at your pale reflection in the hot water, melancholia hitting you like a train. “My mother got sick and, well, her savings were not enough to pay for all the medical care so … let’s say I had to swap my backpack for a satchel… I work at Wayne Enterprises now. Bruce hired me, out of pity I suppose.”         “I’m sure it wasn’t out of pity.” You shrugged and Jason grabbed your hand and you looked up at him. “And I’m sorry about your mother. I know how it’s like to …”     “Do you still think about us?” You abruptly cut him short, not willing to keep talking about your personal issues or to plunge Jason back in dark memories that you know were very hard for him to handle.     Sure, you could have chosen another question, another topic of conversation but the thing was that those words were niggling at you since the moment you two broke up. “I mean do you happen to think about what happened between us?”

Jason didn’t answer at first, more out of surprise than out of hesitation because there was none. There was just one answer to that question. Of course.             Of course he had thought about you all over those two years. Of course he had thought about what happened, about the moments spent with you – however ephemeral they had been -, about that love he had felt and had never learned to completely erase despite the women who had entered and exited his life. Of course there had been nights in which he had replayed the lustful burning memories of you in his arms, against him, against his naked body. Of course was the answer. But not the answer he gave you. “Come with me.” He forced you to get up and slammed a fifty-dollar bill against the table, not caring about the hot chocolate he hadn’t finished or the blueberry muffin you had barely touched. “But … the change.” You tried to protest.         “Fuck the change. I want to show you something.”

***

           Out of all the places in Gotham, you never thought he would have brought you here. “Why are we here, Jason?”       It was an ancient building, far from the fancy city centre and only a few blocks away from Crime Alley. Dilapidated, covered in colorful yet ugly graffiti, this place looked liked a landmark for drug dealers and junkies and it was an understatement to say that, without Jason’s company, it would have normally made you feel unsafe and uncomfortable.         “I grew up here, before Bruce took me in.” You glanced at Jason who was staring at the place with both disgust and melancholia. “I’ve always hated that place. But it was home. And I guess it made me… I guess that is because of that place that I somehow became the man I am today… I mean, if Jason Todd hadn’t grow up here with a junkie mother and a lousy father he would have never met Brue Wayne and never became …” He stopped, on purpose, you could tell it. “Even if I hate to, I come back here when I want to think of my past, when I’m looking for a reason to keep on fighting. This place is like my temple, a memento of who I am. Damn, you must think I’m crazy.”         “ No, not at all… ” You smiled and put your hand on his arm to reassure him. “Just very Romantic for the bad boy of the Wayne family.” You teased him, knowing perfectly that literature always been Jason’s hobbyhorse and that the whole bad boy thing was a persona, a thick armour he had made to protect himself.     “Blame Alfred. He’s the one who made me ready Wordsworth.” He joked, appreciating the small banter. “Follow me.”           You took the warm hand he offered you and followed him inside the decaying building, minding your step and trying to ignore the dirt and the potential rats.          

Once on the third floor, Jason pushed a rackety wooden door that cracked and squeaked on its hinges and you entered what once was his house. “You grew up here?” You asked only to fill the heavy void caused by this dreadful place. “It was the living room. Used to hide under the table there when my parents were fighting.”

You looked around you, trying to imagine a small Jason living in here. You always knew about his crappy childhood but there is a huge difference between what you had imagined based on the stories Jason had told you in the intimacy of your bedroom and this place.       “You asked me why we’re here.” You turned around and spotted Jason knelt on the dusty wooden floor, a small dusty shoebox that he had just taken from under a floorboard between his hands. “I’ve had this since I was a child. Used to keep the things I loved most in it. Somehow, even after I left this place, I never could take it away from here.” He handed it to you and you slowly opened it, careful not to drop it. You could tell this box was important to Jason.

The content left you silent and you sat on the floor near Jason to study it. “I never really opened it. I don’t like getting stuck in the past. It terrifies me.” You frowned, thinking about all the nightmares, all the anxiety attacks he used to have back in the days you were together. “I never showed it to anyone either but hopefully that’ll answer the question you asked me in that coffee shop.” The question? You had forgotten about it, way too overwhelmed by the sudden solemnity of this moment.  “Never?”           “You’re my first. You should be proud” He tried to joke to lighten the mood and it worked for a couple of seconds. Then, you saw it, among a dog toy, a broken necklace, a batarang and other small tokens. A photo of you two kissing and smiling. A Polaroid you had personally taken on the day when Tim had offered you the camera to illustrate your travel book. “You kept it.” You declared in a whisper.     “I told you. I keep the things I love most in that box.” You stared at Jason, at the cracks of melancholia and the vulnerability in his beautiful blue eyes he allowed only a few people to see. “Of course I thought of you over the years.”       You were not the cheesy romantic type. Jason was - something rooted to his love for gothic literature and poetry you supposed. But that sincere and pure confession got you all … flushed? bothered? You couldn’t really pinpoint the feeling but you could feel the shaky warmth spreading in your body, now paralyzed by the beauty of that moment. “Did you … think of me?”

If Time could stop, you would have chosen this moment to stop it. Here, now, away from your stressful life and its issues, away from all fears and all pains, with Jason and only him, forgetting about the past you’ll never be able to change or the future that vows to be uncertain and scary, thinking about what truly matters, now. “What do you think?” He chuckled and you saw his hand slightly twitch, as if he was hesitating to do something. And so you took it in yours and shared an umpteenth intimate look only he could read. “Sometimes I wish I’d never left.” Meaning, sometimes I wish I would have stayed and be with you.           “Trust me, princess. You made the right choice. Your life would have been miserable with me.” He tried to reassure you, in vain. After all, he could barely convince himself? “More miserable than the one I have right now? I seriously doubt it, Jay.” You frowned and finally got up, leaving Jason’s box on the ground, to watch at the sunset and its red golden rays from the shattered window. “What do you think would have happened had I stayed?” You had your ideas; small little ones of pure love, happiness and bliss that Jason would have managed to lock in that little box of his. “I have a better question, Y/N. What do you think can happen right now?” He was towering you, expecting an answer, waiting as he was gazing at your skin glowing under the soft light of the sun and at your shining eyes. “You tell me, Todd.” This sentence echoed in Jason’s head as a call.

And so his thumb brushed your cold cheek and you looked up at his face, your eyes glued to his features observing them and all the small details you hadn’t noticed before. A little scar thin as a needle on his right brow and a much bigger one, an invisible one that you could see in his eyes, the scar left by all the losses and the pains he had gone through recently. Roy, Bizarro, Artemis. Maybe Jason had changed as well after all. Maybe there was no secret to stop time. But he didn’t let you ponder over this and gently pressed his lips on yours.

He needed that. He had thought about it all day and the truth was, you had too. You welcomed his kiss without hesitation or second thoughts and came to press your small body against his - which seemed so tall and strong in comparison to yours – to instinctively look for safety and protection. “I missed you, princess.” He whispered close to your mouth for a brief second before capturing your full lips with his again. “I missed you too.” You confessed, hands over his hard chest, feeling his heart beat loudly under your palms.     Jason was holding you close now, his arms tightly circled around your form as if he was scared for you to leave, scared to be alone again. His fingers weaving in your hair, his head buried in the nape of your neck, he was pecking your delicate skin, smelling the sweet and heady perfume, glad it was exactly like the one he remembered. “Damn, Y/N. You’re still driving me crazy.”  He murmured as he allowed his hands to slide in your coat and under your jumper to caress your bare back, awakening a cheekiness that you thought was long gone. “I tend to believe constancy is a quality.” You quoted him.

***

           As soon as the door to your apartment slammed shut, your coat dropped to the floor and with hasty hands, Jason threw your beanie across the room, showing an excitement you had almost forgotten. It almost knocked an old crystal vase over but he couldn’t care less.   He had waited long enough. Two years to be precise and he couldn’t wait a second longer. “Bedroom?” He asked between two hungry kisses that were making you almost suffocating against him. “ At the end of the corridor.” You whispered, already breathless, as you managed to finally get rid of his leather jacket.       “Okay.” He suddenly grabbed you to hoist you up with incredible ease, hands under your ass, squeezing it on purpose. A lustful yet cheerful action that made you yelp in surprise.  “I’m already making you scream? Perfect.” He declared with an amused smile as he rushed towards the bedroom, with you in his arms, your legs wrapped around his waist, his lips devouring yours.     “Wrong door.” You said as he tried to open the bathroom. “Fuck.” You giggled and very soon your body finally bounced on your bed as it landed on the soft mattress.

You attempted to sit down to admire Jason but before you could do anything the hasty young man was already on top of you, right in between your legs, his lips already kissing your hot belly as his hands were slowly pulling up your jumper above your lace-covered breasts.           That’s when your first moan finally escaped your mouth. “God. I missed that sound.” Jason mumbled against your shivering skin as he cupped and squeezed your round breasts. “Do it again.” He demanded, his tongue licking you up until it reached your cleavage. “Jason.” You moaned his name, feeling a very specific humid warmth forming in between your legs as you fingers were struggling to get rid of his green t-shirt.   He cursed and knelt on the bed to take off your jumper that he carelessly tossed on the nightstand. It knocked the lamp and the radio alarm clock to the ground with a loud clinking noise. “Can you stop breaking my stuff?” You joked and he apologized with another amused bright smile. “I’m sorry, princess”             “Are you? Show me how much.” You declared with an audacious confidence you hadn’t seen in a while. “Yes, ma’am.” Jason winked and immediately unbuttoned your jeans to pull them down along with your panties, revealing your wet and rosy womanhood begging for his attention. He sighed and took a deep breath when he saw it, glad to rediscover that little part of you. Slowly, his calloused fingers went to caress it, making you draw a sharp breath as your fingers tightened around the covers. You didn’t want him to tease you too long and you somewhat you know he wouldn’t. Not today. He was too excited and needy for that.     And so were you in a way judging by the certain frustration that made you mewl when Jason’s expert finger slowly entered you while his thumb came to tickle your swollen clit. You wanted him now but you had to admit you had missed his fingers down there, the same way you had missed everything about him. Which reminded you there was something you had to do. “Let’s even the odds, shall we? I want to see how you handle such a sweet torture.”   “Sweet torture?” He repeated with a cute chuckle as you unbuckled his leather belt. “How am I torturing you, Y/N?” You unzipped his black trousers and immediately plunged you hand in his underwear to gently grab his already hard cock, making Jason curse even more crudely than before.           You chuckled and free his shaft from his boxers to jerk him off. He was as thick and long as you remembered. You bit your lower lip, impatient to feel him inside you. “Like what you see?”             “Shut up.” You knelt on the mattress and immediately took his tip between your lips to suck it like a lollipop, enjoying the taste of his bitter pre-cum on your tongue and the sound of Jason’s sharp breath in your ears. “Damn it, princess.” He managed to say with half lidded eyes.   You licked his penis with a grin before finally welcoming it in your mouth with a lustful moan. How much you had missed it. “You know. I think I get what you mean by sweet torture now.” Jason confessed as he weaved his fingers in your soft hair, torn apart by two ideas: one, let you continue your amazing blow job. Two, fuck you like he never did before. But you did not listen and started bobbing your head the way you knew he loved, taking his dick as deep as you could without gagging around him. “Fucking hell, Y/N” Jason groaned as he grabbed your head between his hands to accompany your pace. “You’re fucking amazing.” Then, his hand gently slapped your ass and he bent over to kiss it with a loving smile that was swallowed by another growl of his as his abs violently tensed with pleasure. “Alright, enough.” He pushed you flat on your back and placed himself between your legs again. He kissed your folds and licked your slit to wet it even more than it already was to finally lingered on your clit that he sucked eagerly, forcing a guttural crying moan out of your tightly sealed lips. Damn, that tongue! “I thought you said enough.” You complained, your voice as low as a whisper.

Jason chuckled and smiled brightly before he eventually knelt in between your spread thighs. “God, how gorgeous you are.” He declared as he tapped his hard cock against your reddened lips, a cheeky gesture whose sole purpose was to make you beg. You knew it. “You want this?”       “Fuck, Jay.” You grumbled, moving your hips vigorously against his shaft, looking for a way to finally welcome it inside you. But Jason ignored your whim and bent over your body. “You want me?” His face was so close to yours you could feel his hot breath caressing your lips. “Yes.” You murmured. “I want you, Ja…” He did not let you finish your sentence and caught your lips with a burning eagerness, his hand around his cock guiding it inside you, making you moan in his mouth. “Fuck.” Jason growled between his gritted teeth as he felt himself slowly sinking inside of you. “I almost forgot you felt so tight.” “ I almost forgot you were so big.” You cleared your voice, an inexplicable mechanism to relax and allow his cock to fully enter and stretch you. “I know. Sorry.” He winced, adjusting his position on top of you to admire how beautiful you were around his penis and how perfect you pussy was for him. “Damn. I don’t know if I’ll last long, princess.” Jason admitted with a shiver and you cried out when he suddenly pulled out to push himself back inside of you with one long exquisite move. “That’s alright. We’ll do it again.”

Those last words made Jason grin in a way he had never done before as he was genuinely happy that you didn’t want this to be a one-time thing, a casual lay to remember the old good days.       So he immediately took a nice pace that quickened after each new thrust and you let your hands caress his smooth chest from his strong pectorals down to his divine abs and the chiselled V below his navel, finding him simply handsome. Then you nudged his rear with your ankles, pressing his hips closer to yours to take him deeper inside of you, and started moaning his name again, a strong wave of pleasure forming in your core, ready to drown you. “Jay!” His mouth met your neck and sucked on the thin skin with ardour. “Are you gonna cum for me, princess?” That was too much to handle. “Yeah” You cried out, tears of bliss watering your eyes.       “Cum for me then.” He didn’t have to say it twice. You dug your nails in his back and screamed loudly as your walls clenched around tightly his thick cock. “That’s it, princess.” He said as you kept calling his name on and on, sending him closer to a most awaited orgasm that he eventually reached and let explode in you under the shape of a loud growled “fuck” and beads of white seed right inside of you. “Y/N” Jason groaned between his gritted teeth as he thrust hard and deep in you for the last time, his sweaty forehead against yours. “Jay!” You shouted again while clawing at his back painfully enough to make him wince and hiss.     Then he stopped moving, exhausted and breathless just like you, and watched you sink in the mattress trying to catch your breath. He caressed your hair as you both slowly came down from cloud nine. A kiss on your nose and he whispered. “You’re okay?” and in spite of the silliness of the question you nodded. “Never been better.”

Your lips found each other again and Jason let himself lie down on you, placing his head on your breasts, listening to your hearts pounding and to your loud ragged breaths. “I missed you.” He whispered and he held you body against his.     “I missed you too.” You repeated as you planted a kiss in his wet dark hair. “Did you have to keep your jeans on?” The question escaped with a laugh and Jason chuckled. “You know me. Didn’t want to waste any time.” He managed to gather the little energy he had left to sit down and finally remove his trousers as he thought he would feel more comfortable without them. “Oops. I think I broke your clock.” He grimaced as he noticed you the broken device on the floor and the flickering numbers flashing up endlessly on the screen. “I don’t care.” You said as you pulled Jason back against you. “We’ve got all the time we need.”

[hopelesshawks]

Official Accounts Part 17- The Patrol Redux

Summary: (y/n) was perfectly happy remaining anonymous, even if her best friends were all pro heroes and she worked under THE Hawks. Handling the technical aspects of hero work from the background suited her just fine, thank you very much. That goes out the window when suddenly her twitter blows up thanks Denki and the famed no. 2 hero is asking her to run his own official twitter as a result

If you don’t want to see Official Accounts content blacklist #hopelessoa

Warning: Very slight spoilers for the provisional licensing exam in the anime and spoiler for the manga

Masterlist

Hawks was well accustomed to the jovial persona he was expected to put on in front of pretty much everyone outside of the commission. After all, it was one he’d cultivated almost his whole life. Of course he had days throughout the years where it felt all too exhausting to play the joker, but hero work was exhausting. That was the nature of the business. But since he’d watch your heart shatter in real time, since he’d heard you crying on the other side of a bathroom door all while you texted him about his betrayal, the persona hadn’t just been exhausting but absolutely suffocating. Yet he couldn’t turn it off. It was almost more natural to be Hawks than it was to be Keigo now. Even when Mirko had pointed out how rough he looked, his instinct had been to sit up straighter and perk up his wings as if that would hide the bags under his eyes. Hawks never dropped the persona. But as he sat on the roof of a building by where he intended to meet Chargebolt he realized he would probably have to.

Mirko had given him a plan. A really good one at that. If it worked he’d have to thank her later. But there was no way it would if he wasn’t genuine and that meant meeting Denki Kaminari as Keigo Takami. If the conversation stayed between Chargebolt and Hawks he was screwed. Knowing it was necessary and actually doing it, however, were two different beasts entirely. He would have to ignore every instinct he had honed over the more than decade he’d been a ward of the HPSC.

It had taken all of Denki’s strength to leave the apartment. You had looked so sad bundled up in his comforter staring blankly at your laptop screen as you went back and forth between attempting to work from the safety of his home and Netflix. Eventually though he had managed to pull himself away from his heartbroken friend, no matter how much it pained him, to go join the very person who had shattered you so thoroughly. He had wanted to cancel his patrols with Hawks but after the gossip blog had tweeted out about a potential feud his agency had demanded he keep it in order to avoid a pr nightmare. Who knew being a hero came with so much politics.

He expected Hawks to swoop down from above once he arrived at their designated meeting spot. He did not expect Hawks to look as bad as he did. “You look like shit,” Denki says by way of greeting. Hawks let’s out a humorless chuckle, “you’re the second person to tell me that today. Let’s go.” Everything about the experience is odd. As the two begin to walk Denki notices the bags under his eyes, the heavy set to his shoulders. For the first time ever Hawks truly looks like a man who carries the weight of Japan on his shoulders. “I know I have no right to ask this but how is she doing?” Hawks asks. Denki wants to snap back something snarky but something tells him not to. “Not good,” he says instead, shoving his hands into the pockets of his costume. Hawks thinks for a long moment, debating whether to ask the next question that comes to mind. In the end he decides he’s got nothing left to lose. “What happened at the provisional licensing exam?” “Dude.” “Not investigating. I swear.”

It’s weird to see Hawks so serious. Even when Denki had been injured during their first patrol Hawks hadn’t stopped bantering even once. It’s what had made Denki want to continue patrolling with him in the first place. At the time he thought they were similar. Class clowns who knew how to pull it together when the going got tough. But now all traces of that joviality seemed gone, except for the few moments the two of them would pass by a civilian, then he’d watch it slide back on like a second skin. “I’ll tell you on one condition. You explain the whole funny guy act thing you’ve got going on right now. It’s creeping me out a little seeing you switch back and forth dude,” Denki says.

Hawks stops dead in his tracks. His jaw clenches because it’s fair, trading one personal fact for another, but it goes against everything the HPSC has taught him. On the other hand, if he refuses, Denki will assume he’s just investigating again and then his chances of winning you back would really be gone. Denki looks confused as Hawks agonizes. He didn’t think it was that deep a question. Expected something along the lines of why All Might used to smile as he saved people. “It was the commission’s idea. I was a quiet kid and quiet doesn’t play well for a top hero,” Hawks finally admits before resuming walking. Denki has to speed up a little to keep pace. It’s an odd answer but he recognizes it must’ve been a difficult one to give. And, well, a deal is a deal.

“Like I said, (y/n) only took the exam because I pressured her into it,” Denki starts. He expected Hawks to perk up at learning new information about you but the man only nods in acknowledgment that he’s listening. “I thought if she got her license it’d convince her to try to be a pro hero again and then she could switch over to the hero course and join my class. She absolutely crushed the first part of the exam too. Yknow we had to tag targets on each other with these balls they gave us. It felt like a game so it was fun for her because she just smoked people out of the water. You should’ve seen Bakugo’s face when he realized she passed before he did! But uh, not the point.... The, uh, the point is uhm second round didn’t go so hot. We were helping some of the fake civilians when Gang Orca broke into the arena to play a villain attacking during a rescue and it, uh, it hit a little too close to home. Reminded her too much of how her mom died. She ended up having a panic attack. That’s why she failed and that’s why she didn’t bother going to any of the supplemental classes afterwards.”

The weight on Hawks’ shoulders seems to grow. “God I really am the worst aren’t I?” he chuckles. “Yea you kinda are,” Denki agrees, “but you’re kinda making it hard for me to hate you. Looking all torn up over this like that. It’s depressing seeing the number two hero like this yknow.” “Hence the persona,” Hawks shrugs. It’s quiet today, although they both expected as much. At least it gave them the space to talk. “Why’d you do it Hawks?” Denki finally asks. “Because she was too good to be true.” “Funny. She said the same thing about you that day.” “I’m many things but I don’t know if good is one of them anymore.” “Because of what happened with (y/n)?” “No. Not just that.” “I think this is the most honest I’ve ever seen you.” “This is the most honest I’ve ever been.” “How’s it feel?” “Terrifying. Mirko says I have trust issues.” “Yea that lines up.” “I need to talk to (y/n).”

Denki is the one to stop in his tracks this time. “I swear to god Hawks if you’re just trying to jerk her around I-“ “No! No it’s not that. I-,” Hawks sighs, “I just want a chance to explain why I am the way I am. Why I was so suspicious in the first place. If she wants nothing to do with me after that then that will be the end of it. I’ll write her a glowing recommendation letter for whatever hero agency she’d rather work at instead and she’ll never hear from me again. I swear.” Denki gives Hawks a considering look. Part of him wants to deny Hawks. That’s what Bakugo would do. Tell him to fuck off and keep his stupid explanations to himself. But he thought about you, curled up in his comforter, and decided it really shouldn’t be his decision whether Hawks stayed in your life or not. And if you were going to decide, you deserved to do so knowing all the facts. “Fine. After we finish patrol you can come with me to my place and talk to her but I swear to god if you make her cry again or I detect any bullshit, I’ll fry you Hawks. Number two hero or not I’ll send a million volts straight through your face with my fist.” “Thank you.” It was sighed out like a prayer. For the first time since you’d seen his texts, Hawks felt hopeful.

Author’s Note: Denki and Mirko are good friends to (y/n) and Hawks :’) In my mind there’s no way the HPSC didn’t know about Touya so I assume they helped Endeavor cover it up and would do their absolute best to make sure word didn’t get out about him being a literal child abuser

Taglist [open]: @cathy8taffy @katzurras @grumpyfroggies @captaincyberqueen @itskindofafairything @420-uwu @someweirdshitman @oliviasslut

[sanzoumon]

**FIRE FORCE FIC PROMPTS**

Note: A good chunk of these are smut prompts, featuring various ships (mostly BL ships). There are noncon prompts at the end, clearly marked where they start. I threw in some purely platonic SFW prompts for those of you who are into weird stuff like that lol

Please, if you like any of these prompts and are going to write them - tell me. Also some of these prompts are super detailed while others are like one sentence long.

Ships Included:

Konro x Benimaru • Joker x Benimaru • Viktor x Joker • Burns x Joker • Shinra x Sho • Shinra x Arthur • Charon x Haumea

————

-PLATONIC-

- Arrow & Sho. Sho gets upset and cries into Arrow’s chest. He’s so upset he calls her “mommy” without realizing it.

- Charon & Haumea. “Unconditional love” is what his thoughts told her. What she doesn’t understand is why. No matter how much she tries to find out, the answer alludes her.

- Shinra & Sho. Bed sharing and cuddling.

-SHIPPING-

Konro x Benimaru

- Teenage!Benimaru confesses his love for Konro when he’s drunk after having drank Sake for the first time.

- D/s. Benimaru loves giving up control to Konro when they have sex.

- Rumors about them being in a relationship spread, leading to so unsavory comments about Konro regarding their age difference. (Ex: suggesting Konro took advantage of Beni when he was young; that it’s creepy since Konro was an adult while Beni was a child when they first met; etc) Needless to say, Benimaru gets pissed anyone would dare think that about Konro.

- Doppelgänger!Konro x Doppelgänger!Benimaru. Hell’s a little nicer when you have someone you love to have sex with. Even Doppelgängers feel love.

- Doppel!Benimaru manifests and wreaks havoc because his Konro is dead. Now he wants Konro to replace him and he won’t let Benimaru get in the way of that. (Doppel!Beni is Yandere for Konro [both if them] because that’s how people perceive Benimaru to be... and turns out it’s correct, Benimaru IS Yandere for Konro).

- Mourning. Doppel!Benimaru finds out his Konro is dead. All of Adolla quakes from the outburst of his sorrow.

- (past noncon) Teenage!Benimaru tries to thank Konro in the only way he knows how - with his body. Konro is, reasonably, freaked out and finds out why it is Beni thinks this is appropriate.

- Benimaru is a bit of a submissive masochist. Konro is happy to help with whatever Beni needs.

- Their first time together wasn’t gentle. It was passionate, overwhelming, aggressive, heated, rough. All their pent up feelings for each out came rushing out violently and they were both happy to get caught up in it. Benimaru never felt so content in his life as when Konro was manhandling him that night.

- Benimaru does something special, and embarrassing, for Konro. Puppy-play.

- Konro is a bit of a voyeur. Those pictures he took of Beni for the calendar are not the only pictures he has of him. For Konro’s birthday, Benimaru supplies him with extra special pictures that Beni took of himself. As it happens, Benimaru is an exhibitionist.

- The world is on fire and Benimaru has nothing left to give. Before the flames take him he has to tell Konro he loves him. (Sad fic, death fic)

Joker x Benimaru // Benimaru x Joker

- They each have their own shit to be frustrated about. They take it out on each other when one of them needs it. It’s fine, they can take it.

- It’s not love. They don’t even like each other. They irritate each other. But they sure do love angry fucking each other.

Viktor x Joker

- Joker loves how fascinating Viktor finds him.

- Unlike any other partners he’s had, Viktor treats Joker gently when they have sex. He’s not used to it and gets flustered.

- After killing the captain at the Holy Sol Temple, the reality of the situation hits him. The man who violated him for years, who continued to haunt his nightmares into adulthood, was dead. All of a sudden he needs to see Viktor no matter what. (Hurt/comfort)

Burns x Joker

- (past noncon) Joker cries during sex and Burns really doesn’t know what to do about it.

- 52 has a crush on Burns and comes onto him one night. Burns can’t bring himself to turn him down, knowing what 52 goes through, and opts to make him feel good instead.

- Joker mourns Burns’ death.

- After all these years, Joker has daddy issues. It doesn’t surprise Burns’ in the slightest when Joker calls him “daddy” in bed. What surprises him is how much he enjoys being called that.

Shinra x Sho

- Sho has zero sense of personal space and Shinra’s been having some very uncomfortable thoughts about his little brother.

- Sho is in love with Shinra and doesn’t understand why everyone says it’s “wrong”.

- “Let big brother take care of you.”

- (past noncon) Arrow confesses to Shinra about all the terrible things the White Clad did to Sho since they abducted him. When he got old enough to start questioning things, they broke him. They did it again after Shinra’s Adolla Link with Sho (which in turn Shinra feels guilty for). [this one could be romantic or brotherly but either way hurt/comfort]

- Shinra thinks Sho is the most beautiful person he’s ever seen. An angel too perfect for a devil like him.

- A little bit of brotherly playful roughhousing, making up for all the years they lost, leads to something much more heated. Neither stops to think about it, it feels too good to finally be together.

- Shinra likes it a lot when Sho cries out “big brother” while they make love.

Shinra x Arthur

- A stupid argument about something pointless ends in Shinra pinning Arthur to the floor. Before either knows it they’re grinding against each other, kissing harshly.

- (attempted noncon) Doppel!Shinra tries to force himself on Arthur when Arthur confronts him about the real Shinra’s whereabouts.

- Arthur knows this isn’t the real Shinra, but there’s something alluringly taboo about being taken roughly by a devil like this.

Charon x Haumea

- The world is about to burn, but before she fulfills her duty she wants to show Charon how thankful she truly is for his devotion to her all this time. She figures she’ll kill two birds with one stone, rewarding him and indulging in pleasure herself.

-NONCON-

Mob x Benimaru

- Before ending up in Asakusa, being found and taken in by Hibachi, Benimaru lived on the streets of the Tokyo Empire. There’s a good reason he resents the Tokyo Empire and doesn’t like to leave Asakusa. A child alone on the streets is dangerous and he was so weak back then. It wasn’t uncommon for him to be cornered in some alley and sexually assaulted, left in the trash once they were done with him.

- Benimaru doesn’t know how this happening to him of all people, why he’s unable to fight off his attackers. They’re mocking him, degrading him, humiliating him, and they’re forcing him to get off on what’s being done to him. At some point he starts crying, begging for them to stop, which only makes them enjoy his torment more.

- Benimaru is drunk off his ass and someone decides to take advantage of the situation. How often do you get the chance to have Asakusa’s “King of Destruction” begging for you to fuck him?

Mob x Joker

- 52 still isn’t learning his lesson. To break him further, and to reward the rest of the shadows for their hard work and dedication, the captain has them punish 52 by letting them do whatever they want to him (nothing that will cause permanent injury, at least). 52’s entire week was spent as a plaything for them all, torture, rape, humiliation, degradation, all manner of creative punishment. It came damn close to breaking him.

- The criminal underworld isn’t a nice place. Sometimes Joker messes with the wrong people and he got taught painful lessons, no different from what the captain did to him.

- Forced Burns x Joker. The church calls it a bonding ceremony. Burns knows it’s just their way of attempting to break 52 by having the one person who hasn’t mistreated him hurt him. If Burns refuses, it won’t end well for anyone involved. So he forces himself on 52 and hates himself for it.

Mob x Sho

- (Extreme underage) Sho was just too tiny and cute. Only 5 years old. So soft, so sweet. Naturally, they had to beat that out of him.

- Haumea x Sho. She dresses him up like the beautiful doll he is. She plays with him like the toy he is. She violates him like the object he is. She makes him cry, cry out for his brother, his mother, Arrow, anyone, like the child he is. She makes him spread his legs for other White Clad members and then hurts him when he gets his dress dirty, like the useless slut he is. She leaves him hard, needy, alone for hours, until he’s begging for release. She tells him if his brother could see him now, he’d be disgusted by him. He agrees.

Kurono x Nataku

- Kurono loves every pathetic thing about Nataku. Or it’s as close to love as he’s capable of. In his own twisted way, he shows his affection for the boy.

- Nataku is such a masochistic boy, it’s impossible for Kurono to resist him.

Doppel!Benimaru x Konro

- Doppel!Benimaru manifests and infiltrates Company 7 while Benimaru is away. He tricks Konro into fucking him.

- Doppel!Benimaru promises to leave Asakusa alone in exchange for Konro fucking him.

Doppel!Konro x Benimaru

- Konro wasn’t there when the Demon Infernal showed up. Benimaru attempts to fight it on his own but the demon gets him on his back and starts ripping off his clothes. Benimaru is too confused to register just what’s happening until he feels white hot searing pain splitting him in half. He’s afraid, too shocked and in too much pain to do anything. In spite of it all, he gets hard. The demon notices and its grin gets wider. He remembers a burning hand jacking him off and feeling liquid fire inside him. Before he blacks out he hears Konro call out his name. When he wakes, the demon is gone and Konro is hurt.

Doppel!Benimaru x Benimaru

- Doppel!Beni captures Konro and forces him to watch while he rapes Benimaru. Beni can’t fight back because he and his Doppelgänger and too evenly matched and Konro would be hurt. All the while his Doppelgänger taunts him and Konro, describing how “his Konro” (the Doppelgänger) used to fuck him - finding all of Benimaru’s sensitive spots easily because he had them too. Tells them how it’s obvious to everyone how in love they are, that everyone suspects they’re together, because Doppel!Konro has been fucking Doppel!Beni’s brains out since he was a teenager. In spite of the situation, Konro ends up getting hard.

- Benimaru is haunted by dreams of hellfire. In them he always sees himself, a version of himself engulfed in flames. He’s had these dreams since the night before he discovered his powers. In them his other self violates him. It hurts. The dreams always feel so real, even in the morning. Nevertheless he chalks them up to just being nightmares until the discovery that Doppelgängers are real.

- They were evenly matched but his Doppelgänger blindsided him. His head is bleeding, Asakusa is burning, he doesn’t know what’s become of Company 7, and his damned Doppelgänger takes time out of his destruction to rape him - just to add insult to injury.

NOTE: If you’re unaware what “mob” means, it’s a doujin term basically meaning their only purpose is to assault whatever canon character. It’s not an OC, self, or reader insert. It can be an individual nameless character or a group of them.

Also yeah you can clearly tell the kinda stuff I’m into and I don’t care. I put all these prompts in one list because laziness.

May or may not update this list as need be! Enjoy the naughty stuff I know y’all really want as well!!

[kornito]

SOURCE: https://korngiant.tripod.com/kornisgoodforu/id10.html

Dead

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

All I want in life is to be happy", it's that simple. People say that it's become their own anthem. It's like whenever I start to feel good, something comes and takes it away and I feel like I'm nothing again, like I'm dead.

Falling Away From Me

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

The song is about domestic abuse and that there ways to get help whether it's telling someone or calling a help line, there are ways to get out of those situations. Noone has to be treated like that.

Trash

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

"Trash" is about how I threw my world and everything out. I threw her away. I threw my old self away. It basically comes back down to the sex thing. The battles I did on the road, this whole album is what I went through because I was on the road and I went crazy.

Beg for Me

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

"Beg For Me" is more of an angry thing because the whole thing for "Beg For Me" is the crowd. The only time I was good on tour was when I walked up onstage and that's what the song is about. Feeling wanted is something one thing I've always needed. I was shuffled around so much when I was a kid...Being up onstage was the only point was the only time when my anxiety would go away for an hour.

Make Me Bad

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

I need to feel the sickness in you" ... It's spawned from f**kin', basically, from having sex. That's where that line comes from, but it means a whole bunch of things to me. "Make Me Bad" was about the battles I had being on the road, being married and being with other women. I'm not married anymore... beause of my lifestlyle, and I just couldnt do that to my wife anymore. So that ended. But does it make me bad that I have a dick and I have f**ken other feelings to be with other people? Why should I be with just one? It seems like human beings are genetically engineered to procreate. Thats what we do, f**k everything, and that's what our natural insides want to do. It is hard to find someone like that. But she was a good woman and I didnt want to keep on... I did the right thing, I was a man about it. It was better for me to tell her and let her go on with her life and find someone who could help her and be like that. So that song was spawned by that, does it make me bad to want to be with other women? In a sence it was my only drug, why... because I dont drink anymore, I cant drink. I've been sober for a year. I dont have any other vices. So at least doing that could be something.

Hey Daddy

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

"Hey Daddy" where I was schizophrenic and there were these voices telling me to do sh*t... To kill myself, basically. Daddy is one of my nicknames, so its like I'm talking to myself the whole time. It's hard to explain.

Dirty

Song Meaning: Jonathan

"I feel like a fucking whore to record companies." "You know how it is...the way we are used and marketed." "How they make all the money off us and we don't make shit!" "The only way we make money is to go out on tour and sell merchandise" "Basiclly we write all the music and turn in and they make all the money." "So I feel like that and also I feel like a slut cuz I'd go out at night and fucking girls and so I said fuck it, I'm going to do it. The only way to escape is to have sex." "Its all kind of different issues."

Its On!

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

It's On is my sh*t peer pressure song. Me being so stressed out going out and partying. Everybody's just going 'Come on dude, it's on.' That's partying, it's alcohol, cocaine, women. All that wrapped into one. I wrote a song about it. And the chorus I talked about Why am I really doing this? It's all my fault that I'm doing this because all the alcohol, the booze an the chicks do is just make it worse. They just rearrange all the problems in a different order that I can deal with at that moment.

Freak on a Leash

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

One of the best titles I've heard ever for a song. That's my song against the music industry. Like me feeling like I'm f**kin' a pimp, a prostitute. Like I'm paraded around. I'm this freak paraded around but I got corporate America f**kin' making all the money while it's taking a part of me. It's like they stole something from me, they stole my innocence and I'm not calm anymore. I worry constantly.

Got the Life

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

That's a song baggin' on myself. How everything's always handed to me. How I look up to God and don't want this anymore. Like I want something more out of life than all this. And I've got everything I really need but I sometimes don't like. I don't know how to explain it. I have to let it sit through the songs more to actually get into what I write. I truly know, really, the meanings of the songs almost. That's what I'm getting out of it right now.

Dead Bodies Everywhere

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

That was the song about my parents trying to keep me out of the music business. My father was in it and he knew how it was and I totally understand now that I have a son. I want Nathan to be a musician but I him don't want him to go through the hell I went through. That's the same thing my Dad was doing. A lot of people can relate to it, because it's like the Dad's wanting their sons to be football players and their sons want to be doctors or something. That peer pressure its like trying to make them something they're really not. And the Dead Bodies thing is like so I did it and all I got out of it was dead bodies everywhere and got all traumatized. Thanks a lot Dad, Mom.

Children of the Korn

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

That's the song that Ice Cube is on Cube came up with the title. I fed off of what he wrote, he was talking about growing up and puberty. Dictating what he can do, like how you gonna tell me how to live and who to f**k? And all this stuff. And I took that and in my stuff I was talking about being a kid always known as the f**kin' town faggot. It's funny how things change. That some of these people picked on me and all of a sudden look who's laughing now. Also in another of the verse I talked about all these parents f**kin hating me for what I do, saying I'm corrupting their children, but in turn these parents need to step outside of themselves and really listen to what I'm talking about. Then I think they can understand that they were kids before. They're just really quick to judge me. All the Children of The Korn are all our Korn fans. All those kids going through that sh*t and feeling what I feel.

B.B.K.

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

Big black cock! That's what I call a jack and coke. Those little glasses they serve in Europe and everything. That's what I named it, big black cock. And that's another song about me dealing with the pressures of this album and how I, you know, I'm trying to kill myself, but you know? Do I really want to kill myself? Things I'm just questioning myself. Most of this is self-structured.

Pretty

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

It's a story about this little girl that came into the coroner's office when I was working there and she was f**ked by her dad. She was an 11 month old little baby girl. Her legs were broken back behind her and he just f**ked her like a toy doll and chucked her in the bathroom. It was the most heinous thing I've ever seen in my life and I still have nightmares about it.

All in the Family

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

Fred was there after Korn TV and we said, 'Let's do a song together, Hey, man, let's go back and forth and rip on each other like an old school battle.' I don't know who's idea it was, I can't remember if it was mine or Fieldy's or Fred's but we came up with the idea and we started writing and we worked on it together. I came up with some bags on myself for Fred to say. It was all in good natured fun.

Reclaim My Place

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

This one is about the whole band and about all my life being called a homosexual. And then I became this big rock star in a band and I'm still called a fag even by my own band. So it's like I was f**kin' pissed off at them. It's like erase them all because I'm gonna reclaim my place and say hey, they owe a lot to me for what I did, and I owe a lot to them back. But, it still kinda sucks. I've never ever gotten away from that fag f**kin' title. Just because I'm a sensitive kinda guy. Kinda feminine it really sucks.

Justin

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

Justin, that was the kid dying terminally with intestinal cancer. His last dying wish was to meet us and it really freaked me out. That threw a whole bunch of new kind of pressures on my head. That's really intense. Someone's gonna die and his last thing he wants to do is come hang out with us. So I truly just freaked out. It's like why would you want to meet me? What makes me so special? And in turn I talk about how I admire his strength and his life. I couldn't stare at him because he was so content he was gonna die. No one could look him in the eyes. And I totally admire his strength. I wish I had it.

Seed

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

Seed. That's all about the same thing again. I laying in bed in my hotel room, thinking about do I really need all this stuff? All this pressure on me? Because I'm a stressed out freak. It's about Nathan, it's about every time that I look into his eyes, I see myself how I used to be, innocent and stress free. I'm kind of jealous of it. It really sucks, I used to be that way. It's like I have to work so hard at this thing in my life. I have to become a stressed out freak. I put food on the table for my child. Every time I look in his eyes, I just see myself staring right back at my @ss laughing. I was like care free, innocent as a child. It's really weird and I'm really jealous of it.

Cameltosis

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

That's a love song. It's about women in general, women who hurt me. It's Tre's lyrics. He's going on about chicks and my chorus is like I'm so scared to love anyone and really let them in after I got hurt really really bad by a girl. I've let Renee in a little bit, to be honest, but I'll never be that in love ever again. That's what I'm saying, if you've loved twice, you're gonna get f**ked, 'cause you usually do.

My Gift to You

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

Renee always wanted me to write her a love song and that's why I called it My Gift To You. It's my gift to her, you know how I get sick. I always had a fantasy of f**king her and choking her to death. I fantasize about what it would look like me in her body and watching me do it. So it's like a really sick f**ked up song. I did it totally like, I love her so much, I want to take her out of this world. It's really strange. She used to leave notes on my pillow like 25 ways she'd like to kill me. She's got this weird death fetish. We're kinda f**kin' freaky. She got it. She's all 'Thank you that's kinda f**ked up. I was expecting a f**kin' I love you, baby kinda song.' I'm all, 'No, you know me.' I mean I can't do that.

Chi

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

Chi is about a lot of alcohol and drug abuse. People turn to that when they have problems so that they won't have to feel their pain. The song was named after Chi Cheng from the Deftones. We named it after him because he used to call it reggae, and he loves reggae music.

Lost

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

It's the sterotypical thing about your best friend meeting a chick, and then you're nothing

Swallow

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

That's about being paranoid. Drug-induced paranoia.

Good God

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

It's about a guy I knew in school who I thought was a my friend, but who f**ked me. He came into my life with nothing, hung out at my house, lived off me, and made me do sh*t I didn't really wanna do." "I was into new romantic music and he was a mod, and he'd tell me if I didn't dress like a mod he wouldn't be my friend anymore."

"Whenever I had plans to go on a date with a chick he'd sabotage it, because he didn't have a date or nothing. He was a gutless f**king nothing. I haven't talked to him for years.

Mr. Rogers

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

Back in the day when I was a speed freak, um... even further back when I was a little kid watchin' Mr. Rogers, that sh*t was scary. He was a freaky old man... Land of Makebelieve and Mr. f**kinMcFeely and sh*t... made me sick. So back when I was doing speed, like for 5 or 6 days I'd be trippin out and my brain would start to get freaky and get schizophrenic and stuff, and I'd tape it and watch it everyday over and over... I don't know, I was sick in the head. As a kid he told me to be polite and all it did was get me picked on. I f**king hate that man. Thanks for making me polite and trusting everyone, and easy to take advantage of. So I spent 3 months on that one song, just tweakin' on it, and it was totally just my Mr. Rogers obsession, about how evil I thought he was. Pretty much drug induced.

K @ # Ø % (Kunt)

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

People think it's sexist but it isn't. It's more subconcious b*tching at all the women who've been with me in my life. It's not about women in feneral, just those women who hurt me." "Initially, we wrote it to send to American radio for a joke, because they always chop up all the other songs. So we were going to send a 'real' single seven days later."

A.D.I.D.A.S.

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

It stands for all day I dream about sex. It's about how much of a pervert my ass is, and how I daydream about what a stud I am. But when it comes down to it, I'm a f**king pussy and I'm in there jacking off.

a** Itch

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

That was the last song I wrote, and I was so burned at writing out lyrics because everytime I write I get depressed because I start thinking about things, you know? So the whole song is about that. In the chorus it says, 'Before day, my sun will be dying'. It's because I put myself on the line all the time and for what? Because people aren't going to be listening to it anyway.

Kill You

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

It's about a relative I first met when I was 12. I f**king hate that b*tch. She's the most evil, f**ked up person I've met in my whole life. She hated my guts. She did everything she could to make my life hell. Like, when I was sick she'd feed me tea with Tabasco, which is really hot pepper oil. She'd make me drink it and say, 'You have to burn that cold out, boy'. f**ked up sh*t like that. So every night when I'd go to sleep, I'd dream of killing that b*tch. In some sick way I had a sexual fantasy about her, and I don't know what that stems from or why, but I always dreamt about f**king her and killing her

Ball Tongue

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

The meaning of ball tongue is simple. Some thought it had to do with oral sex, but in fact its about a guy we had to work with on a t-shirt (Jeff Creath). He either had a pierced tongue or a wart or something on his tongue and he was a dick to us.

Different live: Jonathan goes into a Rap (by Coolio) Called "Loddi Doddi" in the middle of the song.

Clown

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

Korn was playing a show in San Diego for a clothing card. This skinhead guy came up and started flippin' me off. When we started, I bent down and the guy took a swing at me. Our tour manager, Jeff, got into it and knocked the guy out. I wrote this song about him: 'Scared to be honest with yourself/you're a cowardly man.

Faget

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

Everyone thinks I'm bashing gay people in this song, and I'm not. It's really about me going through high school being called 'pussy,' 'queer' and all that stuff, about getting picked on by all these jocks.

Shoots and Ladders

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

It was written because all these little kids sing these nursery rhymes and they don't know what they originally meant. Everyone is so happy when singing but 'London Bridge' is about the Black Plague. All of them have these evil stories behind them." "The lyrics are all from nursery rhymes, and a lot of nursery rhymes go back to the Middle Ages. They're actually pretty twisted if you know the stories behind them, like about Black Death and stuff.

Helmet in the Bush

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

It's about a speed problem that I had. You know, you do a lot of speed and -- if you're a male -- your penis retracts severly. The guy heard at the beginning of the song is La Caco, a friend of the band. His real name is Michael and likes taco bell. He's a really Nice Guy and he has been friends with the band for years

Daddy

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

People think daddy' was writen because my dad f**ked me up the ass,thats not what the song's about. It wasn't about my dad or my mum. When I was a kid I was being abused by someone else and I went to my parents and told them about it. and they thought I was lying and joking around, they never did sh*t about it. They didn't belive it was happening to their son. I don't like to talk about that song, this is the most I've ever talked about it...

[fanfoolishness]

Interview with a Fic Writer

Tagged by @novantinuum, thank you!

__

How many works do you have on AO3?

242 works. The actual fuck??? Wow, me. Of course, this does span about 9 years, so I guess that's not that insane?

What’s your total word count on AO3

549,737! But that averages out to only 2271 words per story, haha. You got me! I think I have less than 10 fics that have more than 1 chapter. I love one-shots, what can I say?

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Oh, you want to get into this? All right. We'll get into this:

The X-Files, proto-fandom, ur-fandom, first OTP ever... yeah, 15-year-old me went. WILD. Many horrible Mulder/Scully stories, and some Doggett/Scully and character study stories as well. Mostly not very good, but with occasional flashes of decent writing. Really had a difficult time writing romantic feelings between 30+ year-olds given a) I did not date in high school and b) was 17 and not an emotionally stunted FBI agent.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer - not a huge volume of stories, but definitely some very angsty Spuffy and Spike tales.

Harry Potter - just one published fic (Lupin grieving Sirius), and one with Snape and Harry having a heart to heart I could never quite get right.

Then came the dark times (vet school) where I was exhausted and hard at work for a few years and I thought, horribly, I might have outgrown fandom. Thank god for...

X-Men First Class and the undying love of Charles Xavier and Erik Lensherr! I'd never fallen for a slash ship before but my god I fell hard for this one and wrote my first fandom smut and my first real AU (mutants with zombies) that I never finished.

Then.... let's see...

Quantum Leap drabbles!

Two Avatar the Last Airbender fics!

Agents of SHIELD fics, mostly focused on Coulson and FitzSimmons, and super angsty.

Bioshock Infinite sads (god I love writing the sad bad dad)!

And then the juggernauts of Mass Effect (my longest fic to date with 30 chapters!) and Dragon Age, which were endlessly productive and are still productive given the variety of different protagonists you can create, different choices, and different relationships to canon characters. I'm still working on a Hawke/Varric fic in the back of my mind here.

There's one random Gravity Falls fic (wish I could have got a little more obsessed with it, or gotten into it while it aired) of Stan sads, and one tiny Avengers ficlet of a sad Tony and Peter.

There's one Wheel of Time fic! Dammit I wanted Rand and Tam to reunite so much sooner than they did.

40-odd Steven Universe fics! So many SU fics!

One random Schitt's Creek fic of David and Patrick!

And finally, The Mandalorian, with 47 fics. Phew!!!

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. The Invitation, The Mandalorian. Din Djarin finds himself in dreams that seem realer than real, reminding him of his loss, but he begins to find a sense of hope again. A promise is kept.

2. The Outstretched Hand, The Mandalorian. Din Djarin is a man of action, but sometimes, the quiet finds its way in. Din reckons with the aftermath of the events of Chapter 14, the Tragedy. (My very first Mando fic!)

3. Not the Sentimental Type, Steven Universe. Priyanka Maheswaran has long prided herself on keeping her emotions in check. But a mother's love can only grow, and sometimes it expands to people she never anticipated. Like the Universe boy.

4. Translation, The Mandalorian. Din Djarin was a man of few words, but many languages. Some might have thought the Child had no language at all. Din Djarin and the Child grow to understand each other.

5. Full Disclosure, Steven Universe. Just as the world begins to recover from Spinel's attack, Steven starts having nightmares. The more he ignores his fears, the worse they become, until he's left with no other choice but to ask for help. (My thoughts on what would drive Steven Universe Future, and I wasn't far off.)

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I really try to! Even sometimes years later if I realize I've missed some. I appreciate each and every one, and have definitely made friendships through comments <3

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Oh, hell... I'm too lazy to link these but if anyone wants to read them let me know or find them on my AO3!

A Stopped Clock from Bioshock Infinite has Booker DeWitt ravaged by Korsakoff's amnesia from his long-standing alcoholism. Is Columbia real or imagined? Hard to say.

The Viscount's Way shows Varric Tethras having become his parent, and a cruel, hard viscount of Kirkwall.

Songs in the Key of Red shows how Cullen fared under the dark future in Redcliffe in DAI, and they write happy endings, don't they? shows what happened to Varric. Both horribly depressing in different ways!

Two by Two, Hands of Blue shows a not unexpected end to lyrium addiction :( Poor Cullen, he got a lot of angsty developments, didn't he?

Do you write crossovers? If so, what’s the craziest thing you’ve ever written?

Never really got into crossovers or AUs. Just... meh for me!

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

No, I don't think so.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Charles/Erik, Shepard/Garrus, Shepard/Liara, Shepard/Tali, a mess of different f/f femShep drabbles, and most of my Dragon Age pairings have gotten sexytimes. On the other hand I helped start the NoRomo Mando tag for the Mandalorian to help find non-pairing Mandalorian content. Depends on the pairing and the fandom, for sure.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nope, thank goodness!

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I think so! There used to be a Spanish-language wiki linking to some of my old X-Files stories XD

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, but friends and I definitely will beta each others' things to help with sticky points.

What’s your all-time favorite ship?

ALL-TIME? Just, why? So many ships I loved in years past turned out to have pretty damn problematic elements I didn't see at the time, so it's hard to say... Mulder/Scully actually has a ton of issues, Buffy/Spike obviously has issues... so maybe Hawke/Varric (except not canon!) or Garrus/Shepard or Brosca/Alistair.

What’s a WIP you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Still need to finish my Hawke/Varric fic for after Adamant! I have 3 chapters written that I haven't posted. Maybe posting them will help inspire me....

What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue and POV writing from different characters; I feel fantastic writing Steven and Greg, though totally at sea trying to write from Connie's POV, randomly. But I think my dialogue and emotional beats are what people tend to tune in for. When I do write romance, it's usually very sweet and silly and pulled from life. I also love writing nature scenes and settings to help establish mood. Mood and emotion and catharsis are my bread and butter, and I like my poetic prose.

What are your writing weaknesses?

What the hell is a long, well-thought-out plot? Like what even is that???? My longest fic with 30 chapters is basically "Shepard has PTSD and hangs out with her crew. They have some funerals." THAT'S IT. How the heck people actually come up with plot that ties into the lore of a fandom I genuinely have no idea and it's the biggest thing that's held me back from finishing original work. I can come up with a setting and characters and then trying to make them do stuff that's more than just talking to other characters and deepening their relationships with them... how the fuck???

I also definitely have 10-20 words that I am in constant danger of reusing like every other paragraph, LOL!

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I don't speak any other languages so I always avoid it as much as possible. I've seen people describe sign differently in fics and picked one way to depict it that made sense to me for Grogu, but that's about it.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

The X-Files, of course!

What’s your favorite fic you’ve ever written?

Towards Another Day, the tale of how Cullen went from being a templar in Kirkwall to commander of the Inquisition, is definitely up there.

Reverberations is one of my rare multi-chaptered fics and one of my favorite for the catharsis at the end. It makes me tear up every time. 5 times Din and Grogu encounter the Dark Side, and one time they find the Light.

Either a world for the birds (Steven develops a closer relationship with his Uncle Andy, learning birdwatching along the way) or on the subject of rocks (Steven and Jasper finally reach a peace) might take the prize for favorite SU fic.

__

Tagging (if you’re super bored and would like a fun thing to do) fellow writers:

@lastwordbeforetheend, @runrundoyourstuff, @honestlyhufflepuff, @art3mys, and @fake-starwars-fan if you would like to play!

[eveningstar1516]

Rise of the Demon King ~ Chapter 10

Rise of the Demon King Fic: Multi Chapter Paring: MC x Everyone (Mostly Lucifer) Type: Angst with a Happy Ending Total Word Count: 26,758 TW: Major Character Death, Reader gets stabbed with a sword through their chest so..., Abusive Parents, Past Child Abuse, Demon Hunters, Loss of Control Summary: You’ve done it. You’ve finally done it. You’ve managed to anger the demon king. Now you hold your head high as he hands down your sentence. AO3 Portal: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27065362 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~A/N: I gotta Discord server guys! It's primarily Obey Me but other fandoms are welcome as well. It's kinda baby and dead so me and the other members are looking to revive it and we'd love for you to come join us. A roleplay area is included :) https://discord.gg/F3YEmDZCPS Please remember to read and accept the rules once you join for access to all the channels. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Previously: Satan spent the rest of the night by his brother's side, cleaning his room and slowly, step by step, bringing back how his brother usually looked like. A glowing masterpiece, worthy of both envy and praise. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ CHAPTER 10 - A Strong Bond (1616 words)

I was sitting at Lucifer's desk in his old room. After spending 3 sleepless nights in a row, Simeon helped me move into Luci’s old room which thankfully had some really good blinds to block out the celestial sun. The paperwork seemed as endless as it had in the Devildom only this time, it was the archangels' work. While they did their share and dealt with their department’s issues, the majority of the work still fell on my shoulders. I’m starting to understand why Lucifer felt this way towards paperwork. I put the pen down as I finished up the last of this week’s paperwork. Looking at the time, I realized I’ve been working for the past 9 hours straight. Getting up, I stretched my back and felt my joints popping. I filed the rest of the work and got dressed in something more comfortable. A simple dark blue turtleneck and white jeans. I made my way to the kitchen, having missed dinner, I wanted to get something to nibble on before bed. Upon entering, I found Raphael at the table with a cup of celestial berry tea. Noticing me, he looked up and waved me over.

“What are you still doing up Raph?” “I could ask the same. Here, we have some leftovers.” Raphael got up and got a plate from the fridge placing it in the microwave before getting another mug to pour more tea in. “Thank you” I took the mug with both hands and slowly sipped it. Relishing the warmth flowing down my throat. Taking the plate out of the microwave, Raphael set it in front of me before ruffling my hair and sitting back down. Laughing I retaliated back.

“H-hey! I’m not a child”

“You are compared to us. An overworked tired child that despite being in over their head, is doing an amazing job at keeping us running.”

“Thank you. It is hard though. I have no idea how Lu did it, still does it.”

“Yeah, Sammy would work himself to exhaustion. You actually remind me of him. Your determination to get the work done flawlessly and your dedication. Are you sure you’re not supposed to be an angel?”

“Heh, thanks Raph, but you and I both know I’m only doing this to go back.”

“Do you have to though? You’ve been here for a full millenia now. Don’t you want to stay?”

“Don’t get me wrong, it’s lovely up here and you guys are the absolute best, but I don’t belong here. My heart is in the Devildom with the brothers.”

“Why though? Don’t get me wrong, I’m not criticizing, but why would you rather stay in the Devildom than here?”

“I guess the Devildom just grew on me. The Devildom, and the bro’s. I like the way Belphie looks when he’s sleeping peacefully, his head on my lap. I admire the way Beel protects his twin and his brothers, sacrificing everything to make them happy. I envy the way Asmo can change a tense atmosphere into an up beat one effectively dissolving any tension. I find myself thinking about Satan and the late reading nights we’d have and the discussions about cats and our books. I wish I had as much passion as Levi does with his games and shows. Confidently ranting on about them without caring what others think. I’m amazed by Mammon’s love for his family. Everything he sacrifices to make them happy. He even puts himself in the line of fire and would redirect the attention to himself by doing something stupid to distract them from their suffering. I love Lucifer. I love how much he cares for his family. All he sacrifices, all he endures, all the pain he hides from them to keep them happy. To keep us all happy... I miss them.” Tears started pooling as I reminisced about the brothers. Raphael leaned over and pulled me into a shoulder hug.

“I know you do. If it’s any consolation, I’m sure they miss you too. It sounds like you created a strong bond with them. I’m sure you’ll get to see them soon.”

“I hope so. Thanks Raph.”

“Anytime Y/N. I think you should get some rest. Don’t forget we have a-”

“Y/N, Raphael.” Michael walked into the kitchen. He had a look that closely resembled contentment and relief.

“Michael, how can we help you?”

“You should be in bed Raphael. Father wants to see Y/N. Now.” Raphael and I exchanged a look. I finished off my tea and hugged Raphael goodnight before heading to my room to change into something more appropriate for my meeting with God. 5 minutes later and we were on our way to the palace. In the Devildom After they lost Y/N The day they lost Y/N was the hardest day in their life. After they got back to the house, they both went straight to their room, not talking with anyone. Behind the relative safety of a locked door, Belphie crawled into bed and tried to escape reality. Beel sat on his bed and closed his eyes. He didn’t try to sleep, he didn’t go to the kitchen, he didn’t move. He just sat there, the pain numbing him. They stayed like this for a while before Belphie started tossing and turning, his slumber becoming a restless nightmare. Beel got up and changed into something more comfortable. He moved Belphie over and got under the covers, pulling his twin into his chest. Belphie felt himself being pulled into his older brother's embrace and leaned into it, grief evident on both their faces as they both fell into a dreamless sleep.

The days following weren’t much better. Beel wouldn’t eat as much, practically starving himself and he was rarely found. When any of the brothers would go looking for him, they’d either find him in his room or the gym. Belphie wouldn’t wake up at all anymore. He’d go weeks sleeping, if you could call nightmare filled nights sleeping. He wasn’t any better awake either. When he did wake to attend school or fulfill an order from the king, you could practically see the waves of pure wrath and resentment surrounding him, only dispersing when Beel was close by. There were days where neither of them would leave their room, both just staring into space, little words exchanged. Although they didn’t need to. Their shared bond conveyed more than words could express. The pain amplified by this bond. When Belphie was awake, the twins would practically be inseparable. Neither going anywhere without the other.

This went on for a few months. One day after being rudely awakened from a nap, Belphie found himself wandering the house for a quiet place to sleep. Normally, he’d just head up to the attic, however today, he found his feet leading him down to the catacombs, towards Lilith’s, now Y/N’s casket. He doesn’t know what brought him here, but as soon as he saw it, his eyes started watering. He doesn’t know if it’s because of the memories he has assorted with the casket or if it was because Beel was sitting next to it, leaning his back against the side, crying. Sensing Belphie’s presence, Beel opened his eyes and turned his head towards his twin. He cracked a small, tired smile as Belphie moved to sit next to him. This was the first time Belphegor had seen Beelzebub cry since Y/N’s execution. Sitting next to his brother, he leaned into the larger demon letting his own tears flow. Their hands gravitated toward each other as they took hold. For the first time since the trial, they sat together in silence; tears flowing down their cheeks. Eventually, they fell asleep like this, holding each other's hands. It was Levi that found them. The 3rd born having come down to place the gift he got for Y/N from the convention on the casket. He spotted the twins sleeping with tear stained cheeks and left. He came back down a few minutes later with a blanket and a few snacks for when they awoke. Not wanting to disturb them, he set down the Ruri-chan kit and carefully draped the blanket over them. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was envious of the twins connection and devotion to be there for each other. Then he remembered about their connection. He knows the twins can feel what the other is feeling. He realized that they were probably taking this the hardest, their shared connection amplifying the pain. His envy for them left, replaced by something resembling pity. He left them in the catacombs and retreated to his room. The twins awoke at the same time. They took notice of the blanket draped over them and the fruit tray placed next to them. They exchanged a smile as Beel leaned over to grab the tray, offering the fruit to Belphie first. Belphegor grabbed an apple slice and held it towards Beel. Beel opened his mouth accepting the slice and repeated the action with a clementine. They continued like this, feeding each other until the tray was empty. They stayed down in the catacombs for a little while longer, their bond conveying the vows they made to each other. They’d never leave each other's side. Always be there for their other half.

After that day, Beel would take responsibility for waking the youngest whenever he slept for too long and Belphie took responsibility for making sure Beel ate whenever he was awake. From that day forward, you’d never find one twin without the other close by. Their relationship strengthened, one relying on the other. Always being there when needed.

[icedcappujaeno]

kingdom come | three

Jaehyun remembers you, and he hopes that you remember him as well.

genre: mafia!au | fluff | angst | smut

pair: Jaehyun & reader

warnings: language, sexual content, drugs, blood and violence, guns

↤ previous | series masterlist | next ↦

It’s Monday. When Jaehyun gets exactly on the office floor, he storms into Taeyong’s office. 

But he wasn’t there.

He hasn’t answered his calls since Friday. It was only his voice mail that answered. Jaehyun was beyond frustrated. He needs answers. His mind wasn’t at ease, causing his sleep schedule to fuck up even more. He was restless. 

He goes out of the empty office and calls out to Taeil, whose cubicle is nearest to Taeyong’s office. 

“Where the fuck is he?” Jaehyun asks with agitation.

“Ya,” Taeil spats. “Have you forgotten who’s older here, Jaehyun?” 

“I’m not in the mood for that Taeil Hyung,” Jaehyun hisses back. Taeil was about to land a fist on Jaehyun’s face when Taeyong calls his name. He strides in between the two men to stop the banter. 

“Taeyong Hyung,” Jaehyun practically grits through his teeth when he said his name. “I want to talk to you.”

Taeyong shrugs and checks his phone. 

“That’s kinda obvious with the 48 missed calls and almost 50 messages over the weekend, no, Jaehyun?” He lightly pats the younger’s shoulder but Jaehyun pries away from the touch. “Let’s go to my office.” 

---

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Jaehyun knows that Taeyong thinks he’s crazy. Or at least going to that path. He relays what happened last Friday night as vividly as he can. Taeyong listens to his story—or at least he tries too. The obvious perplexity in his expression paints all over his face as Jaehyun repeats the story.

“Jaehyun. She’s  dead .”

Jaehyun’s face visibly hardens. His hands lay on his sides and curled them into a fist, tight enough to see the prominent veins on his knuckles.

“You mourned for her. You were there, watching over her funeral twenty-four-seven,” Taeyong continues, slapping Jaehyun with his words. 

“I didn’t check her casket—“

“You held her fucking hand when she was in the morgue—!!”

A punch lands on Taeyong’s face, and with Jaehyun’s hard blow he stumbles onto the chair behind him, propping his hand onto the rest for support. Blood drips from Taeyong’s nose as Jaehyun’s knuckles gash a scar on his cheek. Jaehyun is about to hit Taeyong with another when Johnny comes in, holding the younger back.

“What the fuck is going on?!” Doyoung yells, running over Taeyong’s side along with Jungwoo and Taeil to support him as he stands up. Everyone in the office seemed to notice the commotion so they all went inside.

Johnny holds onto Jaehyun with great force as he keeps on struggling. Yuta’s on the side, ready to support Johnny to keep Jaehyun in his hold.

“Jung Jaehyun, you are fucking done for,” Taeyong grits through his teeth as he wipes the blood from his nose. Doyoung clutches onto Taeyong’s arm to prevent his future actions, but Taeyong exhales heavily and releases Doyoung’s grip from him. Doyoung is about to react when Taeyong puts his hands inside his pants’ pockets.

“Go home. Don’t go to work unless you’re in the right mind already.”

Everyone seems to be shocked by Taeyong’s decision, even Jaehyun. 

“I don’t think—“ Taeil interjects, but Doyoung speaks up.

“It’s for the better, I think,” he says as he looks at Jaehyun. Johnny feels Jaehyun’s body relax a bit, thus loosens his hold onto him. His breathing still heaves heavily though, so his arms were not completely off the younger’s body.

“Jaehyun, I think it’s a good idea,” Doyoung quips, still looking at Jaehyun with pure sincerity. “I don’t know what you guys talked about, but seeing you all vexed on Taeyong—I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go to work for the meantime.”

Doyoung is glad that Jaehyun listens despite his silence. He frees his body from Johnny’s hold. He’s still angry but Doyoung makes a lot of sense.

“I agree,” Taeil says, the one only having the balls to pat Jaehyun on his shoulder in a friendly gesture. “I don’t think you’re on missions this month anyway. You need to at least cooldown.”

Jaehyun seems to come back to his senses and nods. He looks at Taeyong one ferociously one last time before storming out of the office, gathering his things away.

When he gets out, everyone looks at Taeyong. The leader raises a brow as he wipes his nose again, clearing any blood stains from Jaehyun’s hit.

“He sure hits hard. That’s why he’s on the combat offense team,” Taeyong jokes, but no one laughs. Jungwoo offers him a hanky and he accepts it.

“What happened, anyway?” Taeil asks.

Taeyong remains silent. Everyone was expecting a reply but he only says:

“Get back to work.”

---

It has been two and a half weeks since Jaehyun got suspended. 

Rose comes often, very much often. But Jaehyun still can’t grasp what happened days prior. He gets distracted from time to time, yet his thoughts come back to you. His co-workers still talk to him through messages, mostly asking how he’s keeping up and the changes they observed without Jaehyun in the office. He appreciates the gestures, but your face haunts him every time.

Jaehyun was a hundred percent sure it was you in the mart. Thus, he searches for you everywhere, even goes back to the same mart where he saw you. Touched you once again. But there were no traces that would lead up to you if you were alive and not a hallucination.

---

You meet him in his dreams. Or nightmares. In it, he sits on the couch of your previously shared apartment while watching Netflix. You call out his name as dinner is being served. He looks over, sees you smiling at him as you tell him that dinner’s ready.

He walks over to you, but when he touches your arm, you scream. 

The same scream he heard that night.

Jaehyun wakes up, breaths were heavy from the nightmare. He clutches the skin on his chest as he tries to calm down.

When he does, he grabs his phone and looks at the time. 

4:32 in the morning.

He sighs and runs his hand over his hair. Falling back asleep wasn’t an option as the very time he closes his eyes, you would come back. So instead he stands and heads to the bathroom for a quick wash and wears on his tracksuit, going out for an early morning jog.

---

6:30 in the morning.

Jaehyun sits on one of the benches of the park where he usually jogs laps. It was too early in the day that no one still loiters around, except for early joggers like him. 

He fishes his phone out of his pocket and scrolls down his Instagram as he rests. 

The orphanage where you first met was the first post he saw. Some familiar faces come into view, especially the children whom he helped before. Jaehyun smiles as his heart melt at the photo. He double-tapped on it and a thought suddenly came to mind.

He smiles to no one in particular with the sudden idea, but he feels light and happy—genuinely for the first time in weeks.

He turns the music on and texted Rose that he'll be busy for the weekend, before putting his phone back in his pockets, finishing his remaining laps before going home.

---

“I haven’t seen you in years!”

The old lady who grew fond of Jaehyun hugs him on sight, even though he’s carrying a box full of goods. Jaehyun chuckles, missing the affection and warmth of the place. It has been years since he last visited; he thought that the painful memories would come back as soon as he sees the orphanage’s driveway. He was wrong, as it felt refreshing: happy memories flood his mind as he remembers you and your legacy.

“I miss you too, Halmeoni.” 

She lets him go and instructs him to put down the box on a table. He follows and unboxes the goods he brought: mostly shoes and clothes for the younglings. The older woman was ecstatic, with every piece Jaehyun brings out, she would say that it would fit this child or that kid’s name. The smile on Jaehyun’s lips never fades; it has been really, years since he felt this way.

Another car drives into the parking and Halmeoni excuses herself. Jaehyun politely nods and continues to unbox the clothes and shoes, each movement of his hands reminded him of you: how yours would bump into his, every fits of giggles every time he sneaks a tickle to your side. 

A tug at his shirt breaks his reverie, and he looks down to the eyes of a young man tall as his hips. Jaehyun sits to meet his level. 

“Did you bring us presents?”

“I did,” Jaehyun laughs. 

“What did you bring?”

“I brought you shoes and some clothes,” he replies. The child smiles and tiptoes over the table to try and see the presents. 

“I want new shoes,” the child says. Jaehyun stands and ruffles his hair. 

“Okay, I’ll give you a pair. What’s your name?”

“Daejung,” he replies. Jaehyun gets a pair from his presents and shows it to him. 

“Do you want this one?” Daejung nods. Jaehyun sits to match Daejung’s height once more and puts the pair of shoes in front of him. Daejung removes his slippers and Jaehyun assists him in wearing one. He places his hand on Jaehyun’s head to support himself.

“Your hair is soft, hyung,” to which Jaehyun laughs.

“Yours is as well.”

“I’m sorry I just got back!” Halmeoni pants as she approaches Jaehyun and Daejung. She sees that Daejung has already worn a present from Jaehyun and sighs.

“You could have waited for the others,” Halmeoni scolds. Jaehyun is quick to defend saying that it’s okay. Daejung stands behind Jaehyun, clutching the fabric of his shirt as he hides away from Halmeoni’s lectures.

“Anyway,” Halmeoni waves her hand dismissively to drop the issue regarding Daejung’s excitement. “Sorry about that, but an old-time friend came to visit. Like you, it’s been a long time since she volunteered. I’m gonna tend to you both, she’s just packing her presents and will come here shortly.”

“No problem, Halmeoni,” Jaehyun replies.

The old woman peers over the woman who was quite struggling with two big paper hands hung on both arms while carrying a big box. Jaehyun follows Halmeoni’s gaze.

“I’ll help her.”

Just as Jaehyun said it, the woman tumbles over due to the weight of her carry. He jogs over her slumped figure, carrying her paper bags as well as the box, making it look easy within his hold. 

“Let me carry this for you.”

You stand and chuckle nervously, dusting off the dirt on your clothes. You put the stray strands of hair fallen messily onto your face away, behind your ears. When you look up with an embarrassed facade, you see unfamiliar eyes boring into yours.

Nevertheless, you paid no mind with the stare he’s giving you.

“Sorry. I thought I could carry them all in one go.”

It was seconds before he replied.

“[Y/N]?”

You blink.

“How...”

Jaehyun mirrors your confused expression.

“Do I know you?”

[petri808]

@ktdkvalentines​ for Syd on Ig Valentines Exchange

Bakudeku College Au. TW: panic attack, anxiety, some angst w/happy ending based on the request.

Izuku Midoriya was in a great mood that Fall morning as he arrived at the college campus. His first day of his first year away from home, ready to start the next leg of his journey. He’d chosen this university for its good reviews and psychology program. He wanted to do something good in his life and what better way then helping others who’d suffered like he had. Not that he’d had a horrible life but growing up in a single parent household created some attachment issues and bullying when he was younger left him with anxieties. All through high school he’d worked extra hard to get to a point where he could function most of the time, and he was proud of how far he’d come. That growth is what led him to pursue a career in psychology, to take his negative experiences and turn them into a positive one.

So, he wasn’t ready when he walked into the dorm room and saw the familiar blonde hair and red eyes of his nightmares looking back at him. 

Oh, this couldn’t be happening! Izuku swallowed hard, a mantra of calming statements flooding his brain as a silent staring content ensued. Neither man said a word, but the longer this went on for, the voices in his mind slowed and were replaced with questions. He was starting to realize... did the blonde even remember him?! He couldn’t tell if it was confusion, or maybe pain on the man’s twisted features, but it certainly wasn’t the angry boy he’d grown up with.

“Wow, Izuku is that you?” The man spoke with no malice in his tone, even rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “Been a long time, huh?”

“Yeah... about 7 years I think.”

“H-How you been?”

“Okay, I guess. A bit surprised to see a familiar face.”

The blonde’s shoulders dropped slightly, and he averted his eyes to the ground, “probably not who you’d hoped to see again...”

“I didn’t say...”

“No, no, it’s okay.” The man waved his hands to stop him. “I— I owe you an apology Zuku. And I’m not looking for forgiveness cause I don’t deserve it, but I hope we can, I don’t know like start off fresh, I guess, since we’re stuck in this room together.”

Izuku blinked in confusion, what had happened to Katsuki Bakugou in these past 7 years?! He was certain it wasn’t all arouse, or that the man was trying to bring his guard down, because Katsuki sounded genuine. Until the age of 2 or 3 they were actually really close, but for some reason by the end of their first year of primary school, he’d started picking on Izuku, or taking out his anger on the smaller boy. He had no idea what triggered it, but in the end, he was left emotionally scarred. Now, the man standing before him exuded a broken version of that 3-year-old child he once knew.

“You’re right. I lost count of how many times I ran home in tears because of you. We were best friends and it really hurt when you started picking on me and being mean to me.” The pain evident in his voice rang out into the small, shared room. “I don’t care why you did it. But,” Izuku continued with a sigh, “you’re right, I don’t wanna rehash the past either, so if we can just start over and put up with being roommates, we’ll see how it goes.”

“I’d like that. A-and I know it might not mean much but am sorry Zuku— about how I’d treated you. I promise, I’m not that guy anymore.”

“I believe you.” And he did, for now. Deep down, Izuku always tried to stay positive because if he didn’t, and allowed the irrational thoughts to fester, it could pull him right back into an episode. He didn’t fully trust Katsuki yet, but if was serious about going into the counseling field, he also knew it was important to continue moving forward. That didn’t mean divulging all of his secrets, or telling Katsuki about his own struggles, but he’ll stay alert to make sure that at any sign the man was slipping, he’d get out of there.

As the first two months crept along, the roommates went about their own business with very little interactions at first. It was a bit weird to Izuku, to be in a shared room where their beds were literally just a few feet from one another’s, yet they were lucky to go beyond a good morning or hello. In comfortable situations, he was a bubbly person who genuinely enjoyed talking to people, so the stillness of their room was unnerving. Of course, this was better than feeling fearful around Katsuki, but how are they to move forward and maybe become friends again, if they weren’t interacting?

So, because they weren’t talking, Izuku did the next best thing and observed. One thing that had not changed about Katsuki, was being meticulous. The blondes side of the room was always neat and tidy, books or stationery on the desk stacked perfectly, clothes in the closet organized by color and type, even the bed was always made with crisp corners. Early to bed and early to rise, the man had a ritual of sorts. If he wasn’t studying at his desk, he’d be on his bed reading or listening to music. Even the way Katsuki ate was curious to Izuku, constantly wiping his hands or face of any residue. There were a few things the blonde requested of him, no scented candles or strong, smelling fish type meals, and to leave his side of the curtains closed, something about the sunlight bothering him. They were simple enough requests to acquiesce to.

The man rarely left the room except to go to class and as far as he could tell, Katsuki had only one other friend on the campus who’d occasionally drop by. A nice guy, very friendly named Eijiro Kirishima. Well, he assumed they were friends because most of the time, his roommate stayed quiet while Eijiro did the talking. Izuku was pretty sure he spoke to the man more then Katsuki during these visits. They seemed unlikely friends really, one happy-go-lucky, and one anti-social... kind of reminded him of their once friendship now that he thought about it.

Izuku could appreciate the idea of sticking to familiar surroundings. Their dorm room was a sanctuary for him as well. He avoided large, crowded areas as much as possible, and if he didn’t know anyone, did his best to be inconspicuous. But within their room, with just the two of them, it should be a comfortable experience. Before coming to the school, he’d wondered what his roommate would be like or imagined making friends, so it was a little disappointing. By the third month it was a close friend of Izuku’s that suggested he make the first move to engage Katsuki in conversations. Start out simple, maybe learn any hobbies, what music he listened to, his major, etc. Forget the fact he knew the man and pretend as if he’s trying to make a new friend. Ugh, he hated making the first move. Izuku preferred being engaged not initiating it because it drove his anxieties up. But they were right. ‘Think of it like practice,’ Izuku reasoned with himself, ‘pulling a difficult client out of their shell.’

It was a lazy Sunday around midterms when Izuku decided to make a move. As he sat rested on his bed similarly to Katsuki, with his back against the wall and a textbook propped on his legs. Every few seconds, he glanced over the book’s edge, side-eyeing the blonde who was also nose deep into a chemistry textbook. Should he say something? But the man looked preoccupied, and Chemistry is a difficult subject. Maybe he shouldn’t bother Katsuki? He didn’t want to be annoying or anything and it wasn’t important really. Then again, the guy was always preoccupied with something or other and if he waited for a perfect moment, what if it never came? Would he wait forever? No, this was as good a time as ever.

Izuku lowered his book. “H-How’s the studying going Kacchan?”

The blonde turned to look at him briefly. “Fine.” Then returned to his reading.

“Oh, that’s good.”

Ugh! It was always so hard to get a read on Katsuki! His affect and tone were flat, no anger, amusement, nothing, just his common one worded response. It was rare for the blonde to give or maintain eye contact, so at least the man looked at him this time.

He tried another question. “I noticed your chemistry book, is that your major?”

“Yup.”

“Um, what do you do with a chemistry degree?” Izuku asked genuinely.

This time Katsuki surprised Izuku when he stopped and put his book down before engaging. “I’m fascinated by the chemical reactions of fire and combustion. How it works, why it occurs, how it can be manipulated, stuff like that. And I don’t know, I could be a scientist, or maybe do pyrotechnics, just work somewhere I don’t have to talk to too many people.”

“Wow! I mean I was never good at math and stuff to understand, but it sounds pretty interesting.”

“I guess so. What’s with the questions all of a sudden?”

“W-Well,” Izuku shifted his body to face the man completely, “we’re roommates. I don’t expect us to be full-on friends, but I figured it would be nice to talk sometimes.” Katsuki’s silent reply of nothing forced him to make a decision to continue talking, because he assumed if the man wasn’t interested, he would have turned away. Silence wasn’t exactly a normal response, but maybe the blonde really wasn’t sure what to say next. “I don’t expect you tell me super personal stuff— just small talk. Like, um, what kind of music do you like?”

“Alternative.”

Izuku’s eyes flashed with surprise at such a quick response. Okay, so Katsuki was fine with answering. “I like that too! Well, some,” he giggled. “Though I mostly listen to pop now. What about movies?”

“Horror films.”

“Oof,” Izuku cringed. “I can’t handle those they scare me too much!”

“I remember. It gave you nightmares.”

Bouncing on the bed, Izuku’s legs moved to hang over the edge in his excitement. He was really surprised in a good way that Katsuki remembered something so mundane about him. “Wow! You still remember that?! Yeah,” he laughed, “I’ll stick to sci-fi or action. Plus, I’m not fond of theaters anyways so, I just watch stuff on my laptop.”

“Why not? You used to be the outgoing one.”

That made Izuku flinch because he wasn’t ready to tread into that territory with his former bully. “Oh, you know, it’s always crowded, and you have to deal with parent-less kids causing a racket in the place. I rather just enjoy my movie without all that.”

“Makes sense. I don’t care to go to places like that either.”

“Yeah, I noticed that— is there anything you do like or hobbies maybe?”

“Just exercising in the early morning, by myself, except since Eijiro inserted himself, I tolerate him.”

So, that confirmed what he’d already suspected. Katsuki kept his body in really great shape and that hadn’t gone unnoticed by Izuku. But since he wasn’t much of a morning person, he didn’t notice what time Katsuki left the dorm, only the man’s return, showered and refreshed. Needless to say, the blonde male with wet hair was nice to look at and smelled good too. “Oh,” his face heated up at the thought of it, but he needed to play dumb. “So, that’s what you do in the mornings. I wondered about that.”

Things between the roommates settle into a comfortable routine. As another month passes by, Izuku still needed to start the conversation, but at least Katsuki would respond amicably or engaged with him, and to his delight with the help of Eijiro, they’d even managed to get the man to go out to dinner once. Those years of dread and angst were melting away, and soon enough Izuku looked forward to spending time with his old friend.

He still couldn’t get a full read on Katsuki’s demeanor. The man’s emotionless responses made it difficult to tell whether or not he was even enjoying anything. So, Izuku could only assume that by participating, he didn’t mind. The old Katsuki would say whatever he was thinking, good or bad, and while he got the sense that he would do so as needed, such as letting him know about the scent issue, it would be really nice if it didn’t feel like a guessing game all the time. Regardless, the progress they were making to rekindle any sort of relationship was a win in Izuku’s mind.

“Here.”

Izuku looked up from his desk to see a plastic shopping bag held in Katsuki’s hand. “What’s this?” He took it tentatively.

“I saw it at the store. You still into this stuff?”

He opened the bag and pulled out the latest action figure of his favorite comic book character. It was a figurine he’d been saving up his spare money to buy. “Kacchan,” Izuku looked back up curiously at the man. “Is this for me? How’d you know?”

Katsuki just shrugged. “Just remembered you were obsessed with the guy.”

“Thank you, really, but I can’t except this gift, it’s not even my birthday.”

“Just take it. Think of it as an I’m sorry gift if it makes you feel better.”

As Izuku sat there stunned, the blonde simply went back to his bed without another word and picked up a book as if nothing significant had just occurred.

“T-Thank you, Kacchan.”

“Yeah, no prob.”

His face heated up and a smile took over as he stared at the action figure for a few seconds before staging it prominently on his bedside table. Izuku had left all of his collectibles at home, so it was nice to have something in their room. But even more important, was again, Katsuki remembered something about Izuku from their childhood and took the time to get this gift. Despite their long rocky history, this small act meant the world to him. It was the first true moment to make Izuku think, maybe they really could be like they once were.

Finals were approaching in barely two more weeks, and some students were already stressing out. The anxiety in the air felt palpable to Izuku. He could feel it practically oozing off the other students. Of course, everyone dealt with stress in different ways. Some went inwards, the pressure fueling them to work harder while other’s went the completely opposite route of goofing off and procrastinating. Other’s might stress eat, binge caffeine drinks, and friends banded together in study groups. But then there are the ones who took out their frustrations and stress on others.

Bullies. The bane of Izuku’s existence.

Most of the time, he could easily avoid their type around campus. He’d developed a sixth sense for such individuals which his therapist explained as a heightened sense of energy levels. It’s really not as mystical as it sounds, rather that, those like him that suffer from a high level of anxiety, are sensitive to other people’s emotional outputs. Being bullied or harassed himself certainly sent his anxiety’s skyrocketing but seeing it could also trigger a problem depending on the severity.

Hence his current predicament...

It was the end of the day for Izuku and he was ready to just get back to his dorm, eat something, and dive into his studies. One of his teachers had released the finals study guide early, so he thought it best to get a head start. But as he made his way past the row of dorm buildings, Izuku spotted something that sent a cold chill down his spine. Three men cornering a fourth. They were at least 50 yards away and he couldn’t hear everything they were yelling. Something about a group project, pulling weight— One man had grabbed the victims shirt and was semi-lifting him up while the other two men just watched and egged him on.

Oh, this was not good! Izuku’s memories started to replay and his experiences were brought back to the forefront. The men’s faces were so close... he could almost feel the hot breath wafting over, spit hitting his face, or the smell of the bullies breath. It made him sick to his stomach. Izuku’s heart raced, his throat began to close up, and breathing grew erratic. He needed to get out of there! The red piercing eyes of his nightmares took center stage in his mind’s eye... all those times he was harassed and battered by Katsuki rushing back like a wave to toss him against a wall of sandy hair.

‘Deep breaths, deep breaths, deep breaths!’ Izuku screamed in his head, ‘calm down, calm down, get back to my room! It’s not you, it’s not you... it’s not him! It’s not him!!’

Izuku picked up the pace, a fast walk over a running sprint to avoid being noticed. The last thing he needed was to draw attention to himself and risk becoming the new target. He dug his nails hard into his arm to force his mind towards a physical distraction, but it wasn’t working.

A deep voice screamed, cursing at the top of its lungs, and filling Izuku’s mind, just like that long ago day. The worst attack, the one that finally pushed his mother to move him to a different school. All the fear coursing through his veins rush back, heart pounding against his rib cage. Katsuki had grabbed him, hand fisted into his shirt as he pushed Izuku up a wall and off his feet. He could still feel the cold stone wall behind him juxtaposed to the pain from his hot throbbing lip and swollen cheek where he’d been struck.

He burst through the dorm room door, stumbling, spilling his bag onto the floor as he fell to his knees, gasping for air because his jaw felt locked up and he couldn’t get enough air. All of his muscles were tensing up, imagined or not, it felt like he was suffocating. His body was shaking, sweating— he wanted to puke.

“Whoa, Zuku, what’s wrong?!”

Katsuki had rushed over and dropped to the floor, grabbing Izuku by the shoulders to hold him up and steady. But he couldn’t answer the man in words. Tears were streaming down his face as he did his best to focus and answer the man, but it was tough, fighting against the rapid assault of images in his mind and cursing blaring in his eardrums.

“Fuck, um, allergic reaction?!”

Izuku shook his head violently, no.

“Choking?!”

Again, Izuku shook his head violently, no.

“Panic attack?!”

Izuku now adamantly shook his head, yes!

“Okay, okay, shit, panic attacks, um, it’s been awhile, what do I— oh, right, okay, okay, d-don’t move!” Katsuki stumbled back to his feet and ran out of the room, coming back within a minute with a cup of ice cubes from the common kitchen. He takes one, two, three, shoving it into Izuku’s mouth. It took a bit of effort to get the man’s jaw to open wide enough to shove it in. “Close your mouth all the way, try to get the ice to touch the roof of your mouth.”

Seconds after the ice touched, it sent a brain freeze from hell shooting through Izuku’s pain receptors. “Ahhh!” He spat out all the melting cubes as his hands fly up to his head, cradling, squeezing to counter against the physical pain, “cold! Cold! Cold!”

At that statement, Katsuki slumped back onto his haunches in relief. “Oh good, it worked.” He then took Izuku’s hands with an even soft tone. “Look at me.” Once the man complied, he continued. “Focus on your breathing, inhale when I say to, exhale when I say to.”

Izuku struggled against the embers of irrational thoughts coupled with the brain freeze coming down. His breathing stayed haggard, jagged as he fought his own mind to follow Katsuki’s instructions. But every time he’d start to struggle, the man would refocus him back to the breathing by pressing his thumb nail into the webbing of Izuku’s hand. Not very hard, but enough of a sting to bring back his focus on the physical. It took about 15 minutes until he could breathe in time with Katsuki’s words.

Be it the overwhelming sense of release or sheer exhaustion, Izuku collapsed on to Katsuki’s chest. His panicked breathing whittled down to silent sobbing. The blonde didn’t move or flinch and held the man up, simply keeping his arms around his back without a word. Minutes dragged by as the tears finally slowed.

“Thank you, Kacchan,” Izuku breathed out. “How’d you know what to do?”

“Let’s just say, I’ve had my share.”

Izuku sat back, rubbing away the moisture drying on his cheeks as he looked at his roommate with new eyes. “You? W-When? I-I mean if you don’t wanna say, it’s fine, I’ll understand. We probably both have a lot a secrets.”

Katsuki thought for a moment. “If I tell you what happened, you gotta come clean too.”

He hadn’t expected that, but after what had just occurred, perhaps it was time. “Okay,” Izuku nods.

“In middle school I was sent to a therapist because of my anger issues and diagnosed as a high functioning autistic. Frankly, I don’t know how much to believe in that, but in the end, the therapist was a good thing.” Katsuki leaned back against a desk leg. “The short answer, I learned the reason I’d started bullying you was because I was getting frustrated with myself which lead to anger, and I wrongly took it out on the closest person to me.”

“Why were you frustrated? I thought we were fine...”

“It had nothing to do with you. It was me and I don’t know, I just started feeling different, I didn’t like being around people, didn’t understand or even care about anyone because I couldn’t figure out how to fit in. Yet I’d watch you make friends so effortlessly and I got mad. There’s a lot more to it, even blamed my mom for some of it, but I just didn’t know how else to get it out except through anger. It took a few years to learn to control myself. That’s one of the reasons I got into exercising. If I start feeling frustrated, I can take it out that way now, burn off the excess energy I guess.”

Izuku was a little taken aback at the idea Katsuki’s been diagnosed on the autism spectrum. The man didn’t seem like he had a mental disorder, but the clues were there. The aversion to certain stimulus, social apathy, his fixations on certain elements. “Wow... I had no idea. It doesn’t excuse what you did, but I’m glad you’ve come this far.”

“So, what about you?”

“I don’t think it was just the bullying that started it all. After my dad left us, I was already vulnerable, it’s why I latched onto you so quickly. So, when you started— I-I felt extremely hurt. You were my first friend, my best friend Kacchan and when you started hurting me... I don’t know what was worse, the physical pain or the mental ones. By the time I moved schools, I’d developed anxiety and depression, and it got so bad my mom finally took me to a therapist where I worked all through high school to get it under control. I do really good now, but sometimes things trigger me.” More tears resurface to cloud Izuku’s eyes, but he kept them from spilling. “Today, on my way here, I-I saw a guy being harassed and it brought it all back again. Nothing was working, so I just thought if I could just get to safety, a-and I don’t know, I figured I could get it under control once I was alone. But I’m glad you were here, because I don’t think I could have. You really, saved me today Kacchan.”

“It doesn’t make up for anything. I’m the asshole who made you like this.”

He snorted a laugh, “that’s for sure, but the cause became the cure.”

“What?”

“You caused this, but today you cured it. That means a lot to me because I do want to forgive you.”

“No. I don’t deserve a second chance. I’m content that we’re at least on speaking terms again and I could make amends somehow.”

“Kacchan, everyone deserves a second chance.” Izuku’s smile returned. “We were kids. You didn’t know better. And you’ve changed, that’s the important thing. I think we’ve both changed.”

“How?”

“Well, it’s those experiences that helped me to find a new passion in life to help others— people like us who are struggling with something. Turn a negative into a positive.”

“How the hell do you do that? You just had a panic attack and you’re already sunny smiles again. I mean you were always like this, and it’s me, I just don’t get emotions, but if you wanna forgive me, I guess I can’t stop you.”

Izuku shrugged. “Nope you, can’t,” he smiled wider. “Right now, this is probably the happiest I’ve felt in a very long time.” He stood up and extended a hand, helping Katsuki to his feet. “Dinner, my treat.”

“I don’t feel like going out.”

“I know,” Izuku smiled. “I’ll order in.”

[vaguely-concerned]

The Mandalorian Chapter 11 reactions; the ‘the sea is a harsh mistress’ edition

- on first watch this wasn’t really one of my favorite episodes. I think it’s something to do with... one of the many things I love about the mandalorian is how it made the star wars universe feel HUGE. big and surprising and unknowable, there could be fucking anything out there man we don’t know. so having first bo katan show up and then ahsoka being set up right after (quite aside from who’s rumoured to play her, which is an entirely different can of wormy beans) in additon to opening the season on tatooine... eh. I’m not that into it, it feels like shrinking the world. we haven’t even gotten to see any other type of force user yet. it is only early/mid season tho so they’re probably going to pull some unexpected twists on us 

my opinion might change with rewatches too, that happens quite a bit with this show!

- 

🎶I’VE COME TO TALK WITH YOU AGAIN🎶

honestly I had kind of a hard day yesterday and watched this the next morning and kept pointing tiredly to the crest like ‘it me tho’ 

- I was unreasonably happy about seeing the calamari flan again hahaha he’s been keeping that shit in his pockets for a season and a half now (didn’t he pay with some at one other point too?)! also the sound effects for them are SO EXCELLENT, I keep thinking about how well this show does texture which is wild considering how it’s filmed 

- the warm pat din gave frog lady’s arm when he thanked her and said goodbye 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 I love the small ways he’s thawing 

-

my heart ached so much for him at this point, he just looks so small and tense and lost, like a kid who’s lost his parents in a supermarket

(he keeps his hand on the blaster the whole time too so he knows this is a bad scene but now they’re right out in the middle of the ocean already soooo) 

- din’s very very very dry sense of humour is so blessed. ‘a bowl of chowder for my friend’ faklhfsadkjlfhsadkjhfsd

the baby’s look when he poked the squid thing with his knife too -- yodito’s like ‘dad is a wizard??’ haha. some good baby & dad stuff in this one 

- oh din... side quest boy, side quest booooooyyy

- the shot when bo katan helped him out of the water is perfectly mirroring the scene of bb!din being pulled up to safety by the mandalorian in the flashback, which seems Very Intentional

I Extremely Do Not Trust Her in the larger scale tho. I think it’s important that din knows now that he was raised in a very specific offshoot of the mandalorians ant that there’s some Stuff he hasn’t been told, but I also think it’s crucial to remember that her pov is not unbiased either and she, in fact, already has an established tendency to selectively share information with him to manipulate him into fulfilling her goals. (which he realizes because he keeps saying ‘that is not my mission, my mission is the child’ and I could not love him more). hell, I’m not sure exactly how ‘the children of the watch’ were positioned within death watch, but she was fucking death watch too for the longest time! and she hardly left for particularly noble reasons, she just didn’t like maul! she already lost mandalore like twice, do we just have to trust that third time’s the charm or what! 

she lied to him about the scope of the mission to force him into a position to do what she wanted (fully knowing he’s responsible for a child!!) and she called that ‘the way’ just as easily as the thing about not letting his bravery be forgotten! big red warning lights, NO! I think the thing is that din is having to find his own ‘way’ of being mandalorian (/how does one be a person exactly help?? relatable content, and he’ll get there in the end I’m sure he’s so good), but her way is no less fucked up to me than the children of the watch from what we’ve seen so far. she’s good at killing imperials though which is of course a mark in her favour

(considering that the episode gives her the epithet ‘the heiress’... yeah that’s probably a hint that she’s loyal first and foremost to her entitlement, getting the position she considers hers by right of inheritance. guess we’ll see if the text agrees with her)  

- ‘mandalorians are stronger together’ yeah that’s probably why the cosmic balance makes sure they’re mostly engaged in being at each other’s throats lol 

- so I might be feeling kind of sketch about these guys but on the other hand... when that one lady saved the baby and then promptly took off her helmet to reveal she looks like t h i s ?

you better BELIEVE I was ready to fall down on one knee and propose right then and there holy shit

- ...wow if he didn’t have the jet pack din probably would have just sunk like a rock and drowned there huh 😨 that armour’s pretty heavy, turns out

- in happier news: din has become so good at reading what the child is expressing and responding/labeling the feeling for him! that’s so important to his development! ‘I know you’re hungry’ and both telling and showing him there’s a solution! still a bit of an issue that he thinks he can inform the baby of things like it’s a reasoned adult and have it understand, but we’re getting there we’re getting there lol

- that poor lady guiding them in for landing and sounding more and more worried fhkasjdlhfkjsdlahf (and he fucking TURNS OFF THE RADIO or whatever he’s using to talk to her through sdkfhaksdfhjs he takes a precious split second just to cut her off asfdjhaslkdfsdfhsda I love my salty dad) 

- when the fisherman asshole tells mando he knows where to find more of his people there’s the tinkling bell sound in the background music, I think it’s meant to convey almost childlike longing for belonging and connection, for finding someone who’ll know what to do? 

- when they took off their helmets and baby looked up at din like ‘???dad what the fuck? can you do that???’. (or like he just sensed his father taking a shitload of psychic damage all in one go)

- the way din didn’t start breathing again until they got the baby up from the water and he had him in his arms... the way he held him... sladfhasdklfhsjakdhfjsakldhfsakjldhfsjkadhfjaskdhfskajdhfjsdakhfslakhfskladhfsakljdhfjskadlhfkjsld

that whole scene was like a nightmare, so desperately unpleasant, in a way it mirrors the way the mandalorians have been hunted down and pummeled these last few generations, this must sort of be what it feels like to him subconsciously 

- din isn’t particularly inflexible as a person, after the initial kneejerk rejection he did listen to what they said and is carefully considering it (he did say ‘this is the way’ back at the end!)   

- the baby’s babbling when he wakes up and looks around in the beginning sounds half like ‘baba?’ and I almost had a heart attack

- loved how greasy and awful and dumb all the empire dudes were (and the comedy on board the ship too it was good for me) 

- the boob plates huh. shit they’ve shown with the armorer that they don’t have to do that in any way shape or form and they still brought the boob plates back :/ I guess it’s so they match up with the rebels/clone wars look, evoking that ~*era*~ and everything, but I don’t have to like it lol  

- I feel so validated in my theory that the razor crest is symbolic of din’s sense of self  (now with beautifully added commentary!) after this haha (and also so so scared now they might be ditching it for a new ship eventually). it’s in pieces, his world view is going to pieces and can’t be patched together the way it was before, from what he knows he’s about to deliver the baby to someone else who’ll understand/love/deserve him better (I do think that feeling is still in him) and he doesn’t even have the certainty of the code anymore to fill the void. oh buddy. 

the discomfort I felt when we got back into the cockpit -- into where it’s supposed to be familiar and safe! -- and saw all the ocean junk lying around, making it feel weird and changed and dirty (it probably smells like rotten seaweed in there now :( no likey)... I mean it was also very funny to see the pilot’s chair held together with a literal fishing net, but please favreau leave my dad’s car/ego alooooone 

- baby laughing his little bum off at din catching the small sea monster before it got him and then munching it......... the ‘there’s nothing in this world my dad can’t fix’ safe energy.......... I’m so scared we’re coming up on something din can’t fix 

- knitwear in star wars: I didn’t know I wanted it, but I am ELATED with having been given it

- moff gideon’s amazing evil voice... back in our ears, in our hearts, I gleefully hate him 

- at least din’s armour is clean again after that (awful) swim? one must appreciate some silver linings along the way I suppose

- din goes straight for the main pilot’s seat once they get the imperial out of it, so he must feel really secure that he’s probably the best man for the job; he is genuinely a good pilot! (and after this I am wondering even MORE who taught him. who raised you within the mandos din??)

- even while everything is new and scary and falling apart we can live safe in the knowledge that at least frog lady and frog husband had a good day and will have a good and happy frog life together with their frog children

couple goals tbh 

(I don’t necessarily know how it works for frog people but I uh. guess they got busy quickly huh hahaha good thing mando didn’t turn up again until later)

[gameofdrarry]

Wizards Hearts Recs: Established Relationship

Wizards Hearts was a four-month-long Drarry reading fest. Players were given a playing deck of 52 tropes, and were asked to find 52 different fics to read and comment on to fill their decks. To prevent the same few fics from being read, fics were restricted to only being used for the game three times before being considered ineligible for further points. The tropes and submissions list can be found here.

Check out the masterlist of fics for this trope below the cut!

📜 Malfoy Meet Muggle by PenNoire Rated:  Teen Words:  25,326 Tags:  Animagus, Established Relationship, Fluff, Humour Summary:  Draco Malfoy is surprisingly happy in a comfortable relationship with Harry Potter. Unfortunately, Harry wasn't brought up doing things the wizarding way, and if Draco wants to make this work, he's going to have to learn to integrate the magical with the muggle. Really, how bad can it be? ❤️ Read on AO3 or FFN

📜 A Nightmare Waiting to Happen by triggerlil Rated:  Explicit Words:  21979 Tags: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Claustrophobia, Eye Trauma, Eye Gouging, enucleation, Childhood Trauma, Vomiting, Choking, Unreliable Narrator, Horror, Body Horror, Clones, Abuse, Nightmares, Zombies, Cannibalism, Sectumsempra (Harry Potter), Legilimency (Harry Potter), Hospitals, Character Death In Dream, Antagonist James in Dream, bug horror, Snakes, Moths, Child Death in Dream, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Established Relationship, Hogwarts, Post-Hogwarts, Abusive Dursley Family (Harry Potter), Attempted Suicide, Suicidal Thoughts, Torture, Corpses, Graphic Description of Corpses, Hurt/Comfort, Curses, Magically Powerful Harry Potter, Protective Draco Malfoy, Husbands, No Explicit Sexual Content, Homophobic Language, Sexist Language, Bullying Summary:  Draco sat beside Harry's bed as the man breathed deeply; his eyes were moving rapidly beneath his eyelids, and every so often, he would twitch or part his lips. Draco couldn’t imagine what was going on in Harry’s mind, but he clutched his husband’s hand, wishing he could take his place, do anything to help. Harry Potter is cursed into a nightmare-verse—escaping one nightmare only causes him to fall deeper through the layers of his subconscious—will he be able to free himself, or will his deepest fears swallow him whole? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Age is just a number by gnarf Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  1555 Tags: Old Age, Humor, Fluff, Established Relationship, Dementia, Plot Twists, Shoplifting, Just Add Kittens, Muggle London, HP Fluff Fest 2020 Summary:  Married for decades, their life is perfect. Until Harry gets a call and hears the following words "Mr Potter, we caught your husband stealing ten large packs of King Sized condoms." ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Our Dreams, Our Pride by ahhhnorealnamesallowed Rated:  Mature Words:  10319 Tags: Hermione Granger is a Good Friend, Healer Draco Malfoy, Healer Harry Potter, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Holidays, a very british coach holiday, Ireland, POV Alternating, Swearing, discussion of sex and sexual acts, Slice of Life, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, (or very little plot), Magic University - Freeform, Post-Secondary, Getting Together, Established Relationship Summary:  For six years, Harry has promised Draco a 'big thing' for their anniversary. This year is the year Harry is going to make it happen, even if he does so in a very Harry Potter way. Including last-minute vacation planning, some very sassy old people, a coach bus, and less anniversary sex than expected. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 No Wizard Is an Island by Novaa Rated:  Mature Words:  50009 Tags: HP:EWE, Post-Hogwarts, Ensemble Cast, Slow Burn, Quidditch, Getting Back Together, Established Relationship, Ministry of Magic Employee Hermione Granger, Auror Ron Weasley, Auror Harry Potter, Healer Draco Malfoy, Apothecary Draco Malfoy, Quidditch Player Ginny Weasley, Slice of Life, Harry/Draco Big Bang 2018, Community: harrydracobang Summary:  For a life is made of the people living it, and no wizard is an island. A twenty-years journey in the intertwined lives of Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Draco and Harry. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 The Arrangement by RurouniHime Rated:  Explicit Words:  65746 Tags: From Sex to Love, Established Relationship, Past Relationship(s), Domestic, Requited Love, Making Out, Jealousy, Falling In Love, Angst, Confessions, Moving In Together, Introspection, Pining, Community: help_haiti Summary:  It's worked for years. Why change it now? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Training Exercises by spookywoods Rated:  Explicit Words:  1313 Tags: Auror Draco Malfoy, Blindfolds, Hand Jobs, Married Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, It's Curry Night at the Malfoy-Potter Residence!, so you know it will be hot, Terrible smut and terrible puns, here all week Summary:  Harry comes home from work to find Draco sitting in the dining room in the dark, wearing a blindfold and little else. “It’s for training,” Draco says. “Training?” “Sensory and environmental magic.” “I could help you train,” Harry says. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Take a trip into my garden by Andithiel Rated:  Explicit Words:  5974 Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Porn with Feelings, Established Relationship, Smut, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, First Time Bottoming, Draco in lingerie, Bisexual Harry Potter, Rimming, Anal Sex, Really there might be too much feeling for it to count as pwp, As usual when I write, Enthusiastic Consent Summary:  Harry has only been dating Draco for about two months, but he’s already obsessed with the git. And he knows that today, Draco has something special planned, something that includes him being dressed in skimpy lingerie. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Forget-Me-Nots and Narcissus by triggerlil Rated:  Mature Words:  14430 Tags: Piano Player Draco Malfoy, Wand Maker Harry Potter, Summer, Domestic, Work partners - Freeform, Established Relationship, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Hogwarts, Wakes & Funerals, Grief/Mourning, Minor Character Death, Gardens & Gardening, Panic Attacks, apple picking, Wandmaking (Harry Potter), Classical Music, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort Summary:  His long pale fingers travelled across the keys, the sound of the piano cresting and falling, one moment soft and enticing, in the next fast and sure. The first few buttons of his white shirt were undone, revealing a pale chest and thin lines of scars; the sleeves rolled up to his elbows to reveal strong forearms, one marred by a smudge of black ink. Or in which Draco is overcome by grief, and Harry is there to keep him afloat. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Through the Window, Clear Skies by tackytiger Rated:  Mature Words:  1415 Tags: Falling In Love, Idiots in Love, Moving In Together, Boyfriends, Domestic, Potions Master Draco Malfoy, Emotionally Repressed, True Love, Mention of wanking, mention of fucking, but mostly just love, Engagement, Drarry Discord Writers Corner Drabble Challenge Summary:  What would happen if Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy moved in together, too soon after they started kissing and then fucking and not hating each other anymore? Will Draco insist on a wine rack? Or: Domestic Drarry with a bare hint of angst. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Sweet Nothings by vivi1138 Rated:  Mature Words:  1985 Tags: Major Character Death, Character Death, Minor Character Death, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Depression, Grief/Mourning, Loneliness, Hallucinations, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, POV Draco Malfoy, Established Relationship, Hopeful Ending, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Muteness, Terminal Illnesses, Physical Disability, Loss of strength, Bodily Fluids, Heavy Angst, Hospitalization, Missions Gone Wrong, Auror Partners, Minor Astoria Greengrass/Draco Malfoy, Afterlife, Mental Health Issues, hopelessness Summary:  What do you do when you lose the one you love? After a raid goes wrong, Draco navigates the waters of his grief and may very well lose himself in the process. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Love Found by peachpety Rated:  Explicit Words:  7500 Tags: Double Agent Draco Malfoy, BAMF Harry Potter, Hogwarts Sixth Year, love realizations, Boys Kissing, Legilimency (Harry Potter), Occlumency (Harry Potter), mind connections, Intense Emotional Action Sequences, Canon Dumbledore Death, Established Relationship, Teenage Boyfriends, Boys In Love, Non-graphic Mentions/Recalls of Offscreen Sexual Activity Between Consensual Minors, Magic and Emotions Conveyed as Color, Threats of Physical Violence and Intimidation, References to Past Forced Submission, Killing Death Eaters, Eventual Happy Ending, Minor References to Past Snape/Lucius Summary:  During Harry’s sixth year, Draco Malfoy joins the Order as a double-agent and continues with his task to get the Death Eaters into the castle as assigned by Voldemort. Draco succeeds with his mission the evening Harry returns from the caves with Dumbledore. The boys reunite on the Astronomy Tower and, with the Death Eater’s arrival, are forced to engage in a fight, driving Harry to come to terms with his feelings about true friendship and romantic love. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Christmas Is For Sex (and Love), So Give It To Me by GoldenTruth813 Rated:  Explicit Words:  53218 Tags: PWP, Established Relationship, Christmas, Bondage, misuse of frosting, making gingerbread houses, coming without touching, Blowjobs, Fingering, anal penetration, Rimming, misuse of fairy lights, Praise Kink, Nipple Clamps, erotic massages, Lingerie, Harry in Lingerie, Butt Plugs, Masterbation, Dirty Talk, Overstimulation, Topping from the Bottom, Ice Play, misuse of snowballs, misuse of brandy custard, veritasium, Public Sex, misuse of christmas candles, Wax Play, floating blow jobs, bubble baths, Candy Canes, misuse of candy canes, sex with feelings, Clubbing, naughty letters, babysitting teddy, Edging, healing past trauma, really so much more than sex, but lots of sex too, spiked hot cocoa, Drunk confessions, Anal penetration with a foreign object, french!draco, Switching Summary:  Draco buys Harry an Advent House, intent on helping Harry create all new holiday memories, and have a lot of great sex in the process. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 there’s a trick with a dragon I’m learning to do by curiouslyfic Rated:  Explicit Words:  20000 Tags: Politics, economics, social commentary, international relations, mature characters, complex relationships, intellectual comradeship, working together to achieve a common goal, sharp dressers, snark, banter, armchair sex, wall sex, desperate kissing, orgasm denial, playful biting, Machiavellian intrigue, wizard banking, Potterverse ghosts and goblins, pursuit, subtle seduction (i.e. life-saving and/or political acts that can be interpreted as courtship), and frivolous decadence Summary:  Harry’s live-in’s a workaholic being courted — harassed — by an array of weeping minions and an assortment of overprivileged pricks. Harry’s bloody portraits are being harassed — courted — by, well, an assortment of things Harry doesn’t even want to think about. Harry’s had a long week already and so far, his weekend’s not looking much better. At least he can say with certainty there's no place like home... ❤️ Read on Dreamwidth

📜 Last Offices by tackytiger Rated:  Mature Words:  6737 Tags: Major Character Death, Character Death, Blood and Injury, Memories, Unhappy Ending, Wakes & Funerals, Falling In Love, Sad Harry Potter, Preparation of a body for burial, Non-Linear Narrative, Flashbacks, Getting Together, Grief/Mourning, Happy Memories Summary:  It didn't seem fair that Malfoy was dead, and Harry was supposed to just keep on living without him. He had lost enough people to know that he probably would keep on going—his stubborn heart was still beating, after all, even though it felt like it was going to break. But first, he had to get through the laying out of the dead—those old Pureblood funeral rites—even if every time he touched Malfoy's too-cold body, he was reminded of how things used to be, and how things might have been. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Love Is by xErised Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  26529 Tags: Emotional Roller Coaster, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, Post-Hogwarts Summary:  Aurors Harry Potter and Ron Weasley are presumed dead during a mission gone wrong. Their partners — Draco and a pregnant Hermione — refuse to believe that they're gone, even after a year of their absence. A tale of loss, longing and love, with a happy ending. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Making A List and Checking It Twice by blithelybonny Rated:  Explicit Words:  20758 Tags: Porn with some plot, Established Relationship, Kink Exploration, Kink Negotiation, Dom/sub, Making Out, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Semi-Public Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Masturbation, Voyeurism, Dirty Talk, Spanking, Frottage, Rimming, Sex Toys, Butt Plugs, Subdrop, Aftercare, Bathing/Washing Summary:  ON HIATUS - WILL BE COMPLETED -- A life-changing event is headed Draco and Harry's way - what better way to celebrate than by checking a few things off the old sexual bucket list? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Dreams That You Dare to Dream Really Do Come True by Drarrelie Rated:  Explicit Words:  11751 Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Established Relationship, The Burrow (Harry Potter), Birthday, Harry Potter's Birthday, Birthday Party, Birthday Presents, Birthday Sex, Birthday Smut, Sexual Fantasy, Sex Toys, Sex Toys Under Clothing, Secret use of sex toys in public, Internalised Kink Shame, Praise Kink, Consent, Enthusiastic Consent, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Blow Jobs, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Porn with Feelings, Fluff, Light Dom/sub, Dom Harry Potter, Sub Draco Malfoy, Top Harry Potter, Power Bottom Draco Malfoy, POV Harry Potter, Don't copy to another site, Fanart Welcome, Podfic Welcome Summary:  Today, Draco’s new boyfriend turns nineteen and the annoying tosser has refused to present a wish list. It’s not Draco’s fault if he felt compelled to get a little creative, right? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Up the Duff by CorvetteClaire Rated:  Explicit Words:  86755 Tags: Mpreg, Magical Pregnancy, Fluff, Smut, Light Angst, Wizengamot, Unspeakables (Harry Potter), Snarky Malfoy-style Humor, Snarky Draco Malfoy, Harry's Thing with Walls, Adorable Toddlers, Pregnant Draco, Protective Harry, Desperate Malfoys Summary:  Draco Potter is hugely pregnant and (much to his surprise) enjoying himself. He loves having Harry fuss over him and looks forward to adding another Potter to their little family. Unfortunately for Draco, his parents have found out about their impending grandchild and have no intention of letting him separate them from this child, as he did from Bob (Felix). Their attempts to force their way into Draco's life may bring down even greater troubles on his head when the wizarding world at large finds out that Draco Potter, née Malfoy is up the duff! Or The fic that answers the burning questions... How many servings of McDonald's french fries can a pregnant wizard eat in a single day? Just how adorable and persuasive can a quarter-Veela toddler get before his fathers sell him to the Goblins? Is it possible to conceal a pregnant belly the size of a Hogwarts carriage under a glamour? What could be more ruthless and dangerous than Malfoys in need of an heir? Will Harry and Draco ever agree on a name for their child? Are girls really easier (and will our heroes ever find out)? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 what the body wants is coolness by lastontheboat Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  13428 Tags: Day At The Beach, Established Relationship, First Time in Public, draco overthinks things, harry is affectionate, Beach Quidditch, no smut just fade to black, HP Drizzle Fest 2020, Community: hp_drizzle, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE Summary:  "Are you done primping yourself yet?" Draco asked, feeling mulish. "We can still meet your friends on time if we leave now, but we'll have to walk quickly." Harry rolled his eyes. "It's a beach day, Draco," he said patiently. "Not a pureblood society event." "Yes, well, not all of us have the goodwill of the rest of the wizarding world to fall back on when we commit acts of social barbarism." ~~~ Draco and Harry have been seeing each other for months, and Harry decides the best way to tell their friends is to bring Draco to a group beach outing. Draco's given up enumerating all the ways this plan could go wrong. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 A Memorable Speech by Samunderthelights Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  1300 Tags: Drarropoly: A Drarry Game/Fest, Drarry, Fluff, Silly, Weddings, Established Relationship, Short & Sweet, Don't copy to another site Summary:  Harry is asked to give a speech at Teddy's wedding, but when he gets flustered, it becomes a speech the wedding guests will remember for a long time. ❤️ Read on AO3