#well until i muster the energy to explode all of my feelings out into a fic. if you want to TRY and understand

[thekittyokat]

you ever just have a lot, a LOT of feelings all at once about a character and not even remotely enough words or brainpower to FORM the words to describe everything you're feeling. so it feels like you may explode. yeah

[darl-ingfics]

Sicktember Day 9: Overdramatic Caretaker

Fandom: Seventeen

Sickie: Dino/Chan (cold)

Caregiver(s): Jeonghan

Word Count: 575

“Why are you out of bed?” Jeonghan asked, freezing in place as his eyes tracked Chan’s movements from the stairs through the den to the kitchen.

The younger man shrugged. “I wanted tea.”

Jeonghan closed his book and set it on the coffee table with a decisiveness that bordered on spite. “Why didn’t you just text me?”

Chan shrugged again. “Because I’m in my 20’s?” he suggested sarcastically. Nevermind that he looked like he hadn’t aged a day past 16 in his old sweatpants and one of Seungcheol’s sweatshirts, the hood pulled up over his head and his hands swimming in the sleeves. Nevermind that he’d passed out at dance practice that morning. Nevermind that his face was still flushed a worrying shade of crimson. 

Anticipating more resistance from Jeonghan, Chan simply set back to his task, refilling the kettle with water and setting it on the stove. A slight pout on his face, Jeonghan moved so he could hover in the doorway as Chan slowly buzzed around the kitchen, preparing the tea he’d set out to make for himself because he was an adult fully capable of doing so. And he had been doing so well, too, until he turned too fast from the cabinet with the honey to the stove when the kettle started whistling. A spattering of black sparks exploded across his vision, a wave of dizziness clouded his brain. He reached for the counter, fingers slipping against the edge. He stumbled. Jeonghan caught him by the shoulders. 

“Just let me do it.” Jeonghan kissed Chan’s feverish temple before physically moving his body away from the utensils he had previously been using. The vocalist immediately moved to the bowl on the counter where someone had thankfully bought lemons, and went to grab a cutting board. Chan moved back towards the counter, reaching for the honey again when Jeonghan once again pushed him out of the way. 

Chan crossed his arms over his chest, aware how petulant the action was, but unable to stop it. “Hyung, I can do it!” 

“I beg to differ.”

“Why?”

“Because you are my baby,” Jeonghan stated plainly. 

Chan groaned. “Hyung, I’m not actually a baby,” he exclaimed with as much energy he could muster. The sniffle that followed felt rather pathetic to Chan, but such was life. 

Jeonghan clicked his tongue. “Let’s not be ridiculous now.” He paused to cup Chan’s cheeks in his hands. “You will always be my baby.” Against his will, tears filled Chan’s eyes. Something about the genuine love and care in his hyung’s eyes, the warmth of his hands against his skin, the way his fingers were gentle yet firmly supportive. Something about it demolished his resolve, ushering in the crushing reality that he felt awful. Chan’s lips quivered. 

“Oh, my.” Jeonghan pulled Chan to his chest as the younger man hid his face behind his hands, crying softly. He clicked his tongue again, holding Chan by the back of his head, rubbing his hair soothingly. “Don’t cry, love. I didn’t mean it. I know you’re not a baby, I just love that joke, and I didn’t realize it upset you so much…”

“No!” Chan pulled away, swiping at his face with his sweatshirt sleeve. “No, I’m not upset about that. I just…” He sighed, shoulders slumping. “Hyung, I don’t feel good.” 

Jeonghan nodded in understanding, simply opening his arms again, accepting Chan back into his embrace, all care, no judgement. 

[javascribbles]

This is the story of how I found out I was a system.

The first time there was someone "other" in my head was in mid 2022. I had no idea that DID or OSDD existed back then. I remember thinking,

"Oh my god, my parents were right, I am possessed!"

That first headmate (who had just come out of dormancy) was like gasoline on a fire. I was already in a bad place mentally, and I guess I just sort of broke. I don't remember what triggered me, but all of a sudden it was like I switched personalities and went from a very people-pleaser and kind person to typing about how I wanted the whole world to burn.

This happened on Discord. I'd been texting my friends at the time, and they all got a front row seat to what probably looked like an extreme mental breakdown. Within the span of half an hour I went from agitated and basically saying "I have no idea what's happening, I feel different" to Exe fully fronting and demanding recognition as her own person.

She also didn't know what was going on or who she was, and called herself a "virus" because that's what it felt like. It was as if I had been infected. I was somewhat co-conscious but unable to do anything, and I was panicked, watching my identity fall apart and seeing her intentionally try to sabotage my friend group by saying (probably cruel) things.

My friends took it really well, and I'm still grateful for that. They were just as confused as I was, though. Exe was consistently co-con or fronting with me for at least a full week after that. I was blindly feeling my way around, and I called her a "persona" and honestly, we did not get along well.

Sometime after this, a second headmate came to light. Her name was Julia, and her coming out of dormancy was much more peaceful. She was gentle but firm, taking over things for me when I couldn't muster up the energy.

Then there was a good chunk of time after that- six months or more- where I was clueless and confused. I did eventually begin looking things up, and while what I was experiencing kind of matched up with DID, I wasn't having any amnesia, which seemed like the deal breaker to me. A couple months went by where I was scared, thinking that I had somehow made everything up.

Exe was fronting forcibly often and her personality and preferences began to affect mine to the point where I couldn't distinguish my feelings and emotions from hers. This was when- and why, I would later realize- I decided to break up with my boyfriend. (That's another story for another time.)

One day on Discord I wound up talking to someone with DID and tentatively asked if there was a way I had "half DID" and they suggested looking up OSDD. I did, and I almost cried with relief. Everything was checking out. I was able to find answers to my questions.

I fell down a rabbit hole of reading articles and listening to psychologists break down what DID and OSDD were, and watching Youtube videos about people with the disorder. Things started to make sense. I could look back at my childhood and find the moment where Exe was first formed, where she fronted for well over a year and completely locked me out, followed by Julia doing the same thing to both of us the year after that as we struggled to cope.

I did experience amnesia back then, so when they went dormant and I got frontstuck, I didn't feel like anything was off and went about living my life until Exe practically exploded out of dormancy and back into the front space.

Simply existing is still a massive struggle, but we've come SO far since then. Writing this down has made me see that.

[fusionpyre]

Meta-Cognition, Meta-Emotion

Someone cut me off while going rather fast on the road to work the other day and it made me angry.

I feel guilty about being angry, because I remember a story where a man was being driven to the hospital by a friend, but the highway was backed up so his friend drove on the shoulder, but everyone else was so upset that they blocked off the shoulder and the guy ended up dying, so maybe this person that cut me off had an emergency and regardless it didn't really affect me.

I feel frustrated by being guilty, because it was rather dangerous for someone to be speeding regardless, and they could have caused an even greater emergency if indeed they were in one.

I feel sad because I can imagine my friend dying next to me and not being able to think totally rationally and desperately doing anything to save them.

I feel resolved to prepare myself mentally for such an occasion so that I don't act recklessly, and spread awareness of such situations so other people don't act rashly out of anger or worry either.

. . .

So I had never heard of "meta-emotions" until just now. I have heard of meta-cognition and have obsessed over it to some degree, thinking about existence and the nature of thinking, logic, mathematics, and what it means for us to have the capacity for any of these. However, this now seems rather trivial in the face of "meta-emotions".

That may seem counter-intuitive, and indeed it hurts me to even say it, but I mean it. I have long avoided my emotions because I always come to a sort of dead-end paralysis where I know I should be acting but I feel too constricted by fear and sadness that I dissociate from the situation entirely. I found comfort in rational thought and logical science as I could make sense of such things, but here's the problem: those emotions never went away, they just got buried.

These unresolved emotions have caused numerous problems over the years to where I effectively feel lobotomized from how little I am able to feel about a situation or connect with friends or close family. I don't respond to messages, my finances diminish, and I flunked out of college. I just...couldn't muster enough energy to care.

But that always confused me, because there are times when I feel like I am experiencing emotions so intense that I would explode if I moved a single muscle or muttered a single word, so I knew there were emotions there. So how do I reconcile all this? If I feel, I hit a dead end. If I hit a dead end, I repress. If I repress, I stop caring. If I stop caring, I explode with painful feelings. What do I do?

Well it turned out there's an interesting little trick that my partner just taught me: "what do you feel about those feelings?" With that simple phrase, my partner prompted me over and over with each new set of feelings, until finally I found the will to act and reached out to a friend I hadn't in years!

There is more to this, I'm sure, but I needed to process this new information and document it for the future. Thank you for reading!

[crisishauntline]

What I want to say to her

[Starting point: I need to make my distress as big and urgent as yours in order for you to understand it / you don’t understand my pain unless it manifests like yours does]

In the conversations we’ve had where I’ve reached my absolute breaking point and then we have some sort of breakthrough and new agreement, I have not said anything new. You have even acknowledged this. I think that the mysterious factor that makes things “click” for you in these conversations is not my words, my intent, or the genuineness of my love for you. It’s the fact that I am sobbing and raising my voice at a level I work incredibly hard never to get to when we’re engaging with each other. It’s the fact that for once, I have lost the ability to continue our pattern where I treat you like you are a well-meaning, equal adult partner, doing my best to regulate myself as well as you, while you sink into your trauma and treat me like I am the uncaring, all-powerful parent that caused it. I am no longer able to slow down, speak softly, bend over backwards to overexplain and apologize first, always from the bottom of my heart, and play therapist for your deep unknowable feelings. I am so flooded with both of our feelings and so starved of your empathy that I explode, and then feel fucking terrible for it because I know how it makes me feel when you explode at me. And then I muster the energy and humility required to calm down a little, tell you I still love you, and repeat all the same things I’ve said before—and suddenly you actually feel it.

You don’t understand my needs and pain when I express them in small, healthy, consistent ways. You might know what they are, but you don’t understand them or what they have to do with you—what it feels like to me when they’re met and not met, how you can keep them in mind in a proactive, generous way rather than reactive, fearful way. You know how important it is to me that you go to therapy, communicate with me about how you’re working on yourself and what other strategies you’re trying out for when I can’t support you, and that you give me space and encouragement to care for myself. But you frequently forget why these things are so important to me and what you should do about them, besides apologize for not doing them.

You also don’t understand how I can fully understand and value your needs and STILL not be able to meet them all, or put them before my own. I am not the giving tree. I am just the girl that loves you.

You are not a bad person for feeling the way you do. This isn’t a disease or inherent defect, just a coping skill that’s no longer serving you. It literally kept you alive in your childhood, because you never had your needs taken seriously until you escalated them beyond what a normal, healthy reaction/interaction between a parent and child would be. Because you couldn’t meet your own needs, you learned that exaggerating your distress was the only thing you could do to get it resolved. You also learned that picking fights was one of the few ways you could (sometimes) get your loved ones to express care and love for you.

But you are not a child anymore, and I am not your parent. You have agency, resources, and community to support you when I can’t. And there are a thousand moments and strategies we have together for building closeness and validation that do not involve falling apart over a tiny change in my voice, a 15-minute delay, or spending an extra night or two apart.

Yelling and constant conflict were normal for you growing up, so you may not notice how often that is happening in our relationship, and when you do notice, it doesn’t feel as alarming to you as it does to me. But I need you to believe me when I tell you, as someone with imperfect but still loving and reliable parents, that this amount of volatile, intense conflict is extremely alarming, unhealthy, and exhausting. Love is not supposed to be this fucking hard, especially not this early into a relationship.

As I’ve held on for dear life from one conflict and shaky resolution to the next, I’ve found myself waiting, almost hoping, for the “final shoe to drop”—for you to do something absolutely unacceptable that will make me feel justified in ending the relationship. But the truth is that my months of unhappiness and exhaustion are enough of a reason to break up. I see how hard you are trying, and it means the world to me. I see growth, and so much strength, light, and love within you. For these reasons, I have poured my entire heart and spirit into this relationship at the expense of my own life for too long, and I cannot give anything more, nor do I owe it to you.

"Do you know I could break beneath the weight of the goodness, love, I still carry for you?"

And darling, I truly am breaking.

I deserve the same amount of effort and determination to leave no stone unturned when it comes to making myself feel happy and loved and connected. If I am someone you want to love, and not just feel loved by, you will understand and accept this. I will not ask you to do it happily, because I know how much your heart is breaking. Mine is too. But I will ask you to let me go nonetheless, because I would do the same for you. In a heartbeat.

[dluxs8nt]

im hi laying in bed waiting for popeyes to arrive so might as well just bust out pt 2 for u while im all riled up and ready to go ehehe

~~~

u sit there in shock for a second. u scan his face, his features could slice u open. his eyes cut straight to ur heart. his smile melted ur knees. he sits there, making sweet sweet eye contact w u until u finally muster up, "i,, im danie.." "*!*NO NO NO NO. U ARE D TONIGHT. u can be lil d, u can be big D" fae nudges the person next to faer, "but u are D tonight. none of that necromancy bullshit, its time to be the phoenix fagguette u deserve to be!!"

u look in surprise and confusion at the pink haired femme in front of u who is looking at u visibly waiting for ur response.

"dont mind faer," Danny lightly grabs ur chin and turns ur head. "i can beat faer up if u want me to" everyone shrieks and chuckles. u giggle slowly as the tension melts away and u notice it was all a joke, but also, not really ur choice to say what the punchline was. u are who fae says u are tonight. or maybe daddy, i mean danny could take control of that. ud let him take control lf u any day. the sock in ur briefs is rubbing against ur boyclit as its gotten wetter and wetter the longer uve been smelling, looking at, engaging with, admiring Mxr D Lux. u suddenly, but slowly, awake from what felt likr a slumber and u notice that ur still standing but ur knees are bent and weak, ur right hand is holding into a makeup table and ur left hand is being tenderly held by Daddy. hes been slowly running the tip of his pointer finger along ur arm, making shapes, drinking in ur skin, ur essence, ur energy to know what fantasy ur looking for tonight.

"u wanna be someones lil bitch boy tonight huh?"

u just noticed that Danny stopped running his finger on u but u were still leaning with ur eyes closed in absolute euphoria. "uh, well, no, im not really like, interested in being a boy bu..." Danny springs up from his seat with a grace and control that sends him slowly floating towards u. his palm lands next to ur cheek and cups ur face and the other graces ur lips with the tips of his fingernails.

"baby, u can be whatever u want to be tonight. all of this is just drag, nothing more nothing less. take what u want from it, but its time to release ur inhibitions, babyboy. let go and submit to my manhood." he grabs ur hand and places it on his chest which u just noticed had KT tape binding down two mounds. "let me get inside u baby, and see what there is to explore in that mind." hes literally whispering in ur ear in the softest tone that u can barely even make out what hes saying so u KNOW no one else in the room heard what he had the gall and audacity to say to u.

"i dont want to do it, Daddy. pls do it for me." ur shaking, u can barely mutter these words.

"thats all i needed to hear baby. thank u for communicating ur consent. now, ur mine until it gets too much. just tell me when u wanna tap out, but i reeeeally, really hope u hold out as long as u can til daddy can really show u how good it feels to be a bitchboy to a nice soft dom femdaddy."

the amount of shivers going down ur neck, ur thighs, ur throbbing hole are enough to shake u up to almost exploding. u feel his hand go down ur spine. u realize u havent been cognizant of anYTHING going on around u since Daddy D Lux started whispering in ur ear. the room is almost empty and performers are running back n forth to find their things.

"ive got a reserved seat every night for a cutie, an egg, or a slvt to get an extra good spot to watch me. ull find it by the glittery red star. feel free to take that spot tonight baby, but dont expect it every night okay?"

"y-yes sir." sir?! u hadnt said sir since u were 13 talking to ur dad. what the fuck?!

"good boy, i like when u call me sir. keep it up, champ. now go out, im opening the show so i gotta hop up there. but knowing fae, Divinity is gonna be blabbing for at least another 8 minutes to "warm the crowd" which is code for fae trying new material and seeing who laughs at it. go, go! hurry." and he blows a kiss at u.

u immediately feel the blood rush thru ur body and especially ur face and hole and rush out of the room down the dark hall and out the curtain. u just need, NEED to sit down for a second cos ur knees could buckle at any moment. u find the seat w the red star and anxiously pound the heel of ur shoe into the ground as u bounce ur knee. ur therapist at that one group told u u needed to stop doing that to be polite n proper but something stopped u from letting that training takeover and u just felt like letting urself cope how u wanted to.

"DANIELA!!" WHO TF IS CALLING U THAT WHAT THE FUCK IS FOING ON OH NO U HOPE THAT DADDY DIDNT HEAR

theres feedback from the mic suddenly and ur eyes are pulled to the stage where the fae with the pink hair has been talking on the mic. "HOLD THE FUCK ON. U DID NOT JUST CALL MY LIL FAIRY FAJJUETTE A NAME WE SHALL NOT SPEAK TONIGHT. U THERE, WHATS UR NAME?"

u look around and suddenly a bright and bubbly girl with like green curly hair wearing low wasted jeans that hug her hips perfectly with a sequin thong popping out runs up to the stage, but doesnt get on.

she screams, "hhhiiiiiIiiIiIiiiIiIIIIII, my names Puk, like Phuket, iykyk"

"well Puk, sorry is it like pook or like puck"

"so its kinda like saying book but with a deep p, puk"

"perfect, well Puk, tonight that lovely lil gayboy is D and he is using he/him pronouns so pls do not disrespect the space and what we say goes. and if u have a problem, meet me outside, im from east side. u can find a seat now. thank u." hootering and hollering erupt out of the crowd. "AANYWAYS, this seems like a good segue into our OPENER!" everyone screams and cheers.

"this man, this animal, this daddy is unlike any other. he once was dead but rose up again into a master of masculine n feminine dominance. give it up for, the, Danny D Lux!!!!" u swear u feel the concrete floors shake as the crowd explodes with anticipation.

a low grumbling bass rings thru the venues hard walls and stiff floor. the lights cut, and a singular deep orange spotlight shines at the stage. what i can only describe as a swirling tent drifted ever so slowly into the center of the stage. a piercing guitar riff starts shortly joined by heavy hitting drums and then the bass starts back up. the tent begins to spin and slowly it unravels, how is it unraveling. it looks like its transforming into individual strands of red yellow orange white grey gold brown maroon, its a tunnel of fiery silks unraveling at the seems. until finally Daddy is standing, playing the bass inside this cone wire cage. he plays his heart out, digging deep into his core and letting his shoulders flow into each stroke of a chord. and then, he puts the bass on a stand, walks down the steps onto the concrete floor ans proclaims.

"we all come from ash. we all have been burnt. weve all felt the flames, of inner rage. well im here to say, let it out." i didnt even notice he grabbed a lighter but suddenly the entire cage was on fire and Danny was huddled under his cape as flames broke the frame of the thin cage. it fell around him in light flames onto the concrete, burning marks on the floor. then the full track started. electric guitars, orchestral pieces, heavy piano, dirty synth and heavy bass. there were few words in his entire performance, but the one that especially sticks with u is when he said, "i dont need to speak my body tells my story, its time to give in, its time to get whorey."

and then u remember. ur in his chair. and the whole time its felt like hes taken extra long eye fucking u while he danced, crawled, and did splits across the floor and stage. and if it wasnt clear enough, he even came up at the decrescendo of the song, sat in ur lap, and said "ur mine for the night, right?" and u desperately, hornily, hypnotically said, "yes sir."

and now here u are. its been 3 hours since the show and ur at the punkhouse most of the performers live in. and ur waiting for Dadd, no Danny to cum back with some wine, nothing fancy, just a boxed merlot. and u cant help thinking, is this the right thing to do?? is it bad if u want to do wrong things?? all u know is ur probably gonna like it.

but is that worth it??

pt 3 cumming

i need more aesthetics of forcemasc that isnt just rowdy rough stoner boy i need new wave forcemasc, goth forcemasc, cowboy forcemasc, punk forcemasc, jock forcemasc etc etc etc like where is the nun to priest forcemasc like seriously yall

[batwritings]

Brainrot time! I cant shake this scenario off my head:

Its spring, something in the air changes, flowers blossom, animals seem to be more active, all colors become brighter and senses seem to sharpen. There's almost an electricity in the air... and the hybrids of the smp feel this change. Of course they know what the season means, afterall spring is for breeding, as a matter of fact, most of them start to act... different. With more energy, some of them become particulary territorial, some of them become snappy. Some of them become extra clingy and some seem completly unaffected, until something makes them snap, the further into the breeding season, the more feral some thoughts become.

Everyone is deep down, waiting, holding their breath, the luckier hybrids have a partner to get through the season, but what about those unmated?

Feel free to add your thoughts if you want! About any hybrid you feel like it :]

[Ill probably add a more filthy follow up of this, if i muster up the courage]

BOY HOWDY DO I HAVE A LOT OF THOUGHTS ON THIS ONE.

I honestly am just gonna compile a list of people into this because I have MANY thoughts on this subject (partially from experience...um...don't ask unless you want to know ^^; ))

Dream- Starting strong, I fully believe this man is a hybrid of some kind, usually a ram. Usually would go to George and Sapnap for help during his ruts until he meets you. He was always incredibly meticulous about watching the days before his next cycle. Being in the prison was hell for him because he had no way of tracking the days and no you to help him through it. He'd rut against his pillow and whine your name, desperate to feel your touch to help his overheated, understimulated body.

George- A cat. You can't tell me this man wouldn't be a god-blessed cat. Now this does tend to mean a spiky cat dick, but he does do his best to make that process as painless for you as possible. During his ruts are about the only times he's not an absolute pillow prince and will fuck into for as long as you'll let him.

Sapnap- His touch can be rather dangerous if not monitored very closely during his breeding cycles. He has burnt you before during sex and he will absolutely tear into himself about it after. Think "I was too rough with you during my cycle and now you don't wanna be my mate," to the tune of that one Ozzy Osbourne TikTok. Honestly being with him during a rut is how you probably discovered your love of temperature play.

Awesamdude- Almost doesn't want you around during his ruts. Sam can get a bit violent, namely with his mating marks. In the early stages, he's more prone to exploding, which is part of why he doesn't want you near. But he knows better than most what it's like to go through a rut alone and eventually relents. He learns to to let off tiny explosions over one big one and both loves and hates the scars he's left on your skin.

Eret- I see her as a wither hybrid of sorts, and yes, Withers do go through mating cycles. She tries really hard not to touch you during this time as you WILL get withered. While it might not kill you, Eret still worries about hurting you in a state where he's not really in a position to help, brain too foggy to think of much but how you good you feel.

Foolish- The most violent honestly, namely because of how much he bites. And then, y'know, shark hybrid. Shark smell blood. It can...cause a bit of a frenzy. He will often try to breed you with both members because that's how he gets the most pleasure. He really enjoys the sight of you wearing his cum though as well, all stuffed full and carrying his scent.

Karl- Remember! Karl isn't human, so I would wager he does go through a form of mating cycle. He's more liable to showing his true form in this state, despite how he may have tried to hide it at first. He really likes to wrap you up in his arms and hold you close, both in and out of that form. His cycles don't last super long, but he's so foggy during them he doesn't always remember.

DreamXD- This absolute menace. XD will suppress himself for as long as physically possible before his body says "Look if you don't fuck right this second? We're gonna have a problem >:(". He knows he's allowed to let himself go with you and will honestly probably fuck you relentlessly in the days during his cycle. If you're okay with it, he'll probably go even if you pass out, but if not is more than okay with separating himself from you while you recover. You'll find him in the corner of the room, watching you with darkened green eyes as he waits for you to come to.

Schlatt (saved the best for last /hj)- Absolute menace number two. Schlatt however, is just endlessly horny. He will fuck you no matter where, or when in front of whoever if you're cool with that. During his ruts though? He's far more tender, far more sincere. While normally Schlatt can be pretty demanding and domineering, he shows his soft side during this time, how he craves to feel you take him and how desperately he wants to mate you and make you truly his. Maybe even start a family.

[lythea-creation]

Youthful Sins - Sirius Black x daughter reader

First of all thanks for the request, anon. I kinda changed it up a bit, but hope you like it anyway :)

request: Sirius meets a young girl (Friend of Fred&George) in Grimauldplace 1995, who is basically a copy of him. During the summer holidays, he tries to connect to the Reader as he realizes that the girl is his daughter. The Reader does not know about their relationship and has to deal with the reality as she overhears Remus and Sirius talking about her. (Pls Drama)

warnings: family issues, angst

word count: 2.274

Author's note: Feel free to check out my Masterlists and make requests. No reposting please! Reblogging, comments and requests are always appreciated <3 If you like the story/my writing, please don't be shy to say it via comments or asks! It takes you a few seconds and might make my day. It's the best appreciation you can show to a writer you like.

----------

It was strange to be back at 'home', especially because I somehow liked it. It was not nearly like twenty years before, when I had left.

It was lively in a good way. Harry, Hermione, (f/n) and the Weasleys were bringing chaos and energy into this house that had kept mostly bad memories for me until now.

(f/n) and the twins were the worst out of them, always pulling pranks on everyone with their magic and fully abusing it to be of age.

Something about (f/n) had drawn me in right from the beginning. The way she was laughing, the dazzling gray of her eyes, her black hair. But mostly it were her character and energy I could not help but envy. She was full of confidence and life, always looking for the next kick of adrenaline and fun.

That was why it hurt me to watch her. She reminded me of myself when I had been younger, before Azkaban had sucked every joy out of my body, mind and soul.

The combination with the Weasley twins was even more of a painful reminder of my time as one of the Marauders.

Currently they were watching Molly making a soup. What had they put in there?

As Molly was pouring some spices into it, it suddenly exploded making a complete mess out of the kitchen.

Her yelling and cursing echoed through the house as the trio was quietly laughing.

“Got ya”, I declared while placing my hand on (f/n)'s shoulder.

The twins immediately disapparated obviously forgetting that (f/n) could not unless she wanted to take me with her.

“See … it was all the twins idea”, she claimed innocently.

“Sure”, I replied sarcastically, an amused grin evident on my face.

“Hey, Sirius … (f/n). Have you seen the twins? Actually I assumed you three pulled a prank on me again, but it seems like my sons managed to do that all on their own this time”, she ranted.

(f/n) mustered me clearly evaluating whether I would snitch on her or not. Of course I did not. I knew exactly how it felt to be in her shoes.

“They vanished mere seconds ago”, I enlightened Molly.

“Of course they did. Thanks, Sirius”, she mumbled with a sigh.

“Thanks for not telling her”, (f/n) noted casually. It literally felt like dealing with my younger self.

“Nah … I was the same when I was your age”, I told her.

“Seriously? Would have never bet”, she mocked me.

“You're pretty feisty”, I realized.

She simply shrugged her shoulders. “So you were a rebel as a teenager or what? Wanted to oppose your parents? I bet ... since you're here. After all the Blacks are nothing I would connect to the Order”, she considered.

“I was a Gryffindor in a family full of Slytherins. You can imagine that I wasn't my parents' favorite”, I alluded.

“But having friends made it bearable, I guess?”, she suggested unimpressed.

“Yeah. I moved to my friend when I was sixteen”, I confessed.

“Well … I basically did the same. I'm at Hogwarts whenever I can and go to the Weasleys during summer break. That's the advantage when you don't have parents. You don't need to ask for permission. The orphanage I used to live in is always happy about less work”, she stated.

“Sorry … I didn't know you grew up without family”, I quickly apologized.

“Nah, it's fine. Childhood was crap. I basically grew up like a muggleborn. But since I got to Hogwarts everything improved and now I'm pretty good. I mean … it's not worth it to mourn after people who didn't want me”, she declared although her body language was showing me that it was still bothering her.

“(f/n)”, Fred whispered signaling her to come over to the stairs.

“Gotta go now”, she warned me and returned to her friends.

I could not stop thinking about her words after that. My intuition was telling me that something was off with her. Yet I had no idea what it could be.

No matter how much I thought about it during the next days I did not get any closer to an answer.

“Fred! George! (f/n)! Who of you enchanted my wool to tie me up?”, Molly inquired furiously.

I entered the living room to see the whole scene, but by now Molly had erased the spell and the trio was standing in front of her instead.

“Alright! If none of you wants to spill the beans, hand me your wands and I will take a look at it myself”, she demanded. “Now!”

They handed their wands over silently, a small nervous and yet victorious smile on their lips.

My eyes however wandered over to (f/n)'s wand that looked quite familiar.

“Hey, Molly. I will hold the wands you're finished with”, I offered.

She welcomed my offer gratefully.

Now I could take a proper look at (f/n)'s wand and suddenly I remembered where I knew it from.

It was almost an exact copy of Mary's wand.

An involuntary gasp left my lips.

“Is everything alright?”, (f/n) wondered as I was staring down at her wand.

“Sure. I just thought that your wand is pretty cool”, I lied.

“Of course it is”, she agreed with a smirk that once again reminded me of myself. And suddenly it had another impact on me than before.

I had to talk to Remus.

Once I was able to retreat I escaped to my room and began writing Remus a letter asking him to come over.

The next day he was here.

“So what was so important that I had to travel here?”, Remus questioned as soon as we were alone in my room.

“When did Mary and I break up?”, I bombarded him instead of giving him an answer.

“Mary Klentwill? Why? Oh … no! Padfoot, don't tell me …”

“Please, Moony. When?”

“1977”, he recalled.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Dammit!”, I cursed.

“Now tell me what exactly is up?”, he requested.

I told him everything I knew about (f/n). How she seemed to be an exact copy of my younger self in girl form and how her wand looked like Mary's.

“You should perform an ancestors spell on her”, Remus suggested.

“I didn't even know anything like that existed”, I admitted.

“Just get me one of her hairs and one of yours and I will test it”, he instructed me.

I told myself not to panic before knowing for sure, but I was still freaking out.

Luckily it was not hard to find one of her hairs. I could simply pick one from her pillow.

“Okay”, Remus mumbled and cast the spell.

It felt like an eternity until we got the result.

My whole world started spinning when I saw the positive result. (f/n) was my daughter. The thought alone overwhelmed me to an amount that I could barely stand straight.

“Hey, that's not too bad, is it? (f/n) and you seem to get along, don't you?”, Remus attempted to comfort me.

“But coming along and being her father are two completely different things”, I reminded him.

All of a sudden the door creaked open revealing (f/n). “What? You're my father?”, she questioned absolutely distraught.

“Yes, (f/n). Apparently I am, but ...”

Tears were welling up in her eyes as she was staring into mine. So many different emotions were displaying on her face that the sight alone made me feel lost.

“But what? You wish you didn't know? You wish you hadn't met me? You wish I wouldn't know? But what?”, she yelled at me.

The others had already begun to gather around us to see what this whole commotion was about.

I had no clue how to react to this situation, especially her outburst.

My father and I had basically hated each other. Arthur was more of a father to her than I could grasp. How was I supposed to take that role?

Now it felt like I had abandoned her. The hypothetical scenario of my life with her overpowered me. She seemed to be a great kid. It felt like I had already missed everything. Azkaban had taken even more from me than I had known.

(f/n) shook her head violently before disapparating.

Great! My first few minutes as a parent and I had already failed miserably.

The worried, shocked and disbelieving faces of the people around me did not help.

So I simply closed the door in front of their faces.

Remus was the only one left with me. He knew me well and stayed silent.

“I don't know what to do, Moony. She clearly hates me. How could she not?”, I murmured.

“She just needs some time. Trust me. She will come back. But by then you should have figured out what you want and can give her”, Remus advised me.

A knock resounded on the door followed by Molly entering the room and sitting down next to me on the bed.

“(f/n) is a great kid. She may appear to be chaotic, reckless and arrogant from time to time, but she's standing up for her friends and strangers. She tries to protect the ones who can't do it themselves. Despite losing house-points for her behavior she's actually very smart and getting good grades. But most importantly right now … she is forgiving, handing out more second chances than she should because she actually got hurt quite a lot due to it. Yet she still believes. She's strong and somehow manages to deal with every obstacle that is thrown her way. I saw her growing up and it was painful to watch from time to time. But it all made her the person she is today. (f/n) can easily live on her own. She proved that over and over again. But she doesn't have to. My family will always be hers too. The question is: Do you want to be part of it as well?”, Molly pointed out. “She would definitely add something great to your life and I'm sure you could do it the other way around too. If you really want to. Otherwise please spare her from more pain than she has to bear. She has already been through enough and I don't want to hear her crying herself to sleep when she thinks nobody notices.”

With these words Molly stood up and left me behind with more questions to answer.

(f/n) did not return for days.

Honestly I was worried sick. Now that I knew she was my daughter I wanted her to be safe and sound.

The twins promised me that she was, but all the waiting did not exactly ease my nerves.

When (f/n) finally returned after five days she greeted me with a simple: “What's up?”

I wanted to pull her into my arms right then and there, but I did not know if it was appropriate.

“Listen …”, she requested. “I'm sorry I disappeared out of the blue. I needed some time to process everything. You didn't know that you're my father, right? You just found out yourself. So … don't stress about it. I don't need a parent anymore. I have the Weasleys and learned to love them like a family. I'm not lacking anything. So if you wanna vanish completely out of my life that's fine. If you wanna watch from the sidelines that's fine as well. You could also become a major part of my life. That's up to you. I'm giving you the complete freedom to choose. I'm giving you the chance to stay with me. But I don't have control over your decision. So everything will be fine in the end.”

How could she be so mature all of a sudden? I had only known her as the confident prankster. This was a completely different side of her. It made me curious for more.

“The confrontation overwhelmed me and I didn't know what to say. You asked me 'but what?'. Apparently I'm your father, but I have no clue what I'm doing. I know nothing about being a proper dad. Mine was shitty and I never spent enough time with James' dad to build such a strong relationship with him. So I will probably fail a lot at this whole parenting thing and hurt you countless of times. I'm not sure if I want to do that to you. You would definitely enrich my life, but I just don't know if I could do the same for you or if I will pull you down”, I confessed.

“Sirius, you're getting it all wrong. I'm not a child anymore. I'm a strong, independent woman. Trust me. By now I really know how to deal with painful situations. And I don't mean to offend you, but you're a stranger to me. Your actions won't form me and it will take some time until I will take them to heart even. You need to earn my love and trust. Until then you will have enough time to learn how to deal with me”, she noted.

Molly had been right. (f/n) was incredibly smart.

“So what? Wanna pull some pranks with me?”, she suggested.

Yes. My answer to her would always be yes.

I could only hope I was nearly as strong as her to survive our from now on shared journey.

[allbimyself65]

Breathless a Yandere Bakugou x reader

Hello first time posting or writing anything online so please be nice, but constructive criticism is always welcome. Also I don't have the energy to proofread so feel free to point out any mistakes.

Yandere Bakugou Katsuki x Y/N

Prompt: Yandere keeps their S/O in a cabin with the endless forest.

1,752 words.

Warning: Violence, Kidnapping and a Yandere Bakugou

Breathless is the best way to describe how you felt. It was as if the span of this entire day was all it took for this word to be so common in your everyday emotions and life . When you first met the great Bakugou Katsuki it happened in a not so great way. How you might ask? Well with you almost getting pancaked by a car that happened to fly your way faster than any good luck coming your way every will. Bakugou of course exploded the car before it could get to your fleeing form. The shock of the whole matter still sent you butt first to the ground in shock where you remained until Bakugou had cleaned up the whole mess with the villain. To say you felt like that car actually hit you was an understatement. You're pretty sure it did with the light headedness from the shock and the way you were struggling to breath, you felt absolutely breathless. With the shock of the car almost hitting you, and being saved by the number two hero was a bit much for your brain. With everything in your system scrambling to get it's self together you barely recognized the rough voice of the pro hero dynamite speak to you.

"Hey extra are you okay?" the concern in his voice barely evident, unlike the loudness of his tone.

"I-I'm good just a bit in shock" again even with all the things whirling in your brain you couldn't help but notice how attractive this man was, it was his eyes there was something about them. They flickered with an unknown emotion you just couldn't get out of your head.

"Stop lying you shitty extra, I can tell you shaken up by this whole thing. I don't need someone on my case about how I just left you there after the villain attack so here's my number. Now take it put it in your damned phone and contact me as soon as you home." His voice was mean, demanding, not a request an order. You though that if he hadn't gotten into the hero industry he would've been great in the military.

"Yes, I'll do it right away, thank you dynamite for helping me." you said as quickly as words could muster. Dashing you ran back to your small apartment, fuck your boos or work for that matter, they were both a piece of shit anyway. Besides you needed a day off.

Meanwhile Bakugou watched as you sprinted down the street. Something was interesting about you. He'd seen helplessness, fear, anger, and so many more emotions in people's eyes while he's saving them, but something about you was just breathtaking. You in it's self had left his breathless for the entire day of his hero patrols. He though about the person who'd he had become so helplessly infatuated with in a day. He'd decided he needed to have some more of them. Bakugou's confident you would contact his from his warning though, if anything Katsuki Bakugou was intimidating.

When you returned home everything in your line of sight was shaking you felt so tired, you could barely move to your bed as you collapsed into it. While inches away from sleep you remenbered the terrifying words of the pro hero and jolted up got you phone and texted him a quick.

"Hello I'm the girl you rescued earlier just texting you to let you know that I'm okay" And without a second though pressed send turned of your phone and went to sleep faster than you ever have before.

When Bakugou saw your text he immediately called in some favors with some totally not sketchy people and learned where you lived along with the basic background information. In total there was nothing truly extraordinary about you. So why? Why was he feeling this way everything was utterly strange and nothing made sense. He though if Aalice was confused in wonderland than she should try and come make sense of his problems because he would open up a whole new world of damned confusion. He replayed the image of you in his mind. Again your were breathtaking. Something he needed to hold and have. A seed of fondness and love was growing in his heart at an abnormal rate. Along with it's sisters posesiveness and jealousy. He had a private house deep in a forest so matters of keeping you wouldn't be a problem. Getting you there however would be slightly more tricky though. He knew just going into your house wasn't the best plan. He wasn't a fucking dumbass. So he decided to wait until you went into some back alley. It completed two of his goals getting you towards you're knew home and out of the dreary life you surely had and away from everyone that wanted to steal you away from him. He also got to watch you and figure out why he was feeling this way.

It was late at night almost a month from when the accident as you called it had happened, you quickly deleted Dynamite's number after that wanting to put any reminders of that day quickly behind you. You had been extra cautious lately the flirt with death you had been given had driven you straight into the dms of paranoia. Your friends had become increasingly worried at your paranoid state so they invited you out for a night at the club. You agreed by an obscure amount of begging. Now you where currently wobbling along the streets, trying to get back home and in your drunken phase managed to get lost in some welcoming backway alley. A figure dressed in black approached. It spoke in a voice that seemed so close, but so far away in your mind at the exact same time. It said

"Hello, Darling can't wait to have you at your new house~" It said breathlessly almost as if drunk itself with how desperate with want for something your dazed mind couldn't put a hand on. A cloth placed on your mouth. It smelled of the sickly sweet candy you'd had at your grandma's house. A scream, kick, and punch all erupted from you. All in vain of course as the lights slowly dimmed and you succumbed to the dark. The voice spoke again.

"It's to damn bad you had to be so stupid and not just give in, would've made things a hella of a lot easier for getting to your new home," the figure paused then spoke again " Oh well I still have you." The person in black looked around seeking camera's or any witnesses. None. Satisfied with his work he made his way back to the old beat up rental car he bought to keep down suspicion. Placing you in back you were quite, seemingly breathless. How you wished you weren't if you could go back you scream, cry, do something for doing nothing but being in a way to peaceful sleep was the last chance of escaping your doom. Nothing, and as the figure made it's way into the driver's side of the car. Unbeknownst to the word a smirk on his lips he started the car and drove of surely closing you fate.

You awoke with not a thought in your brain as soon as one did come to mind you wished you hadn't. Glimpses of night's previous came skipping back to you in a most painful way. You got up seeing as you where changed into new clothes. As terrifying as someone changing the clothes on your human. You had more pressing matters to attend to. You didn't have any idea where you where, you were possibly with a psychotic serial killer or any other type of madman, you mind made the hasty decision to run faster than you've ever have before. Sprinting so fast you were surely to run into a wall you ran around and went straight to the door as soon as your mind could compute what it was. You ran out of the house, without shoes, if you could go back you'd slap yourself silly. That was not a very bright idea as soon as your foot meet the rough terrian outside the house everything screeched in agony to stop you ignored and ran on. Not daring to look back. You ran, not as fast as you usually could because of the lack of shoes. There was still an effort though. An explosion rang from behind you in full deafening glory. You halted abruptly turning back to look at what could've possibly made that noise. Big mistake even if you had a chance of escaping that was gone now. You really were full of smart ideas weren't you. A bull of force rammed into you as you felt to the ground. Terror flashing in blooming color ran through your veins. You looked to your assaulter. Number 2 pro hero Dynamite. Recognition and somehow even more terror ran through your veins. Everything also hurt your lungs, feet, everything. You could still see the house how had you run so hard yet made so little progress? The breathlessness you were feeling surely should've been matched with equal progress? Later your cursing your lack of athletic abilities and screaming fuck. You where also confused. Not knowing why he's kidnapped you. A gut feeling of not escaping was now weighing in your stomach. Dynamite looked angry furious even. Another cloth was pulled all to similar in looks and scent to the one in previous days was placed over your mouth. Sending you yet again into darkness.

Bakugou was very disappointed he'd purposely left the door unlocked and you not chained up as a means to see how far he could trust you. He knew you felt the same desire and want the love and passion that was growing so overwhelmingly big in his heart had to be requited to by your own heart. While caring you back he saw your perfect face staring back at him. Calm and peaceful. He knew this was truly the person he'd spend the rest of his days with. He'd kill anyone that got in his way and crush any rebellious thoughts in that pretty little head of yours. Even if it meant breaking you down and building you up into what you were meant to be. Bakugou's love knows no bounds whether that be a good thing or bad. He knew one thing with you here next to him he was utterly breathless.

[benignbucky]

Whiplash Pt. 2

Based on THIS REQUEST

PART ONE

AN: (MINORS DNI) This is probably gonna be the final part, I'm not super feeling this series anymore in all honesty so I'm gonna leave it as a mini series so we can get that resolution. I may come back to it later but for now I am happy with this ending. This could honestly be a standalone but the first part is linked above. Thank you for being so patient with me while I got this out, last weekend was stressful but this weekend is so much better. You may need a fan for the last half of this. ♡

PAIRING: stucky x reader, john walker x reader briefly

Word Count: 2.4k

WARNINGS: John Walker is the ex because absolutely no one likes him and we all know this man radiates tiny pp energy and would be the worst in bed, fighting, minor angst, mostly fluff and smut, unprotected sex (wrap your wang before you bang), threesome, overstimulation, squirting, HELLA praise kink, pet names (baby, peach, good girl), brief mentions of dub-con/non-con with ex, unbeta'ed (all mistakes are my own)

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The memories of that night were burnt in the back of your eyes. Seeing your ex, John, for the first time in 6 months and he still had so much power over you.

The second you opened the door, tears sprung to your eyes as a barely audible 'w-what are you doing here?' escaped your mouth before he was walking in, clearly not noticing Bucky and Steve walking over with fury in their eyes.

"You need to leave before this gets messy." Steve and Bucky were easily twice his size, not so much in height but in pure muscle.

"Oh, so you're moved out and fucking both of your roommates. A whore like you would do that, huh?" John

You backed behind Bucky as Steve took the lead. "Listen, I don't care who you think you are but you don't just get to come back around after how you treated her. Let alone call her something she most certainly is not seeing as you're the one that cheated on her with how many women?"

"You may look all big but I doubt you even know how to fight. Useless muscle if you ask me." Little did he know that both incredibly skilled in combat, especially hand-to-hand combat. And that's all it took for Bucky to leap forward and land a bone breaking punch to John's jaw, almost knocking him out cold. This had him backing out the door, learning his place.

"And don't even think about coming back here because next time you'll have to be dragged out," The tone of Bucky's voice was firm and aggressive but only until John walked out of the building before he joined Steve in comforting you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been three hours since John tried to pry himself into your life again. You were still trembling even though you were in the arms of the two people you trusted most. The idea that John could just show up again out of nowhere terrified you more than anything. You were well protected by Steve and Bucky but just having John in the same room, no, same building as you brought on heart shattering fear and anxiety.

You had all migrated to your room, the three of you barely fitting on your queen size mattress. It really showed off how much bigger they were compared to other guys, especially compared to you. Both of them were easily at least a foot taller than you. Their biceps easily closer to the size of one of your thighs than your arms.

Around you, they were gentle giants. That was until they needed to protect you. And they would, with their whole being. They just wanted to show you how much they valued you, how much you lit up their lives. They wanted you to know that it wasn't one sided. The two of them were pampering you in kisses and praise, gentle caresses, doing everything they could to make you feel safe and loved.

Eventually your breathing and heart rate had calmed, turning on your back so you could look at the two men. Their overwhelming appreciation towards you made you want to show your appreciation for them but you were mustering up the courage. You hadn't been intimate with anyone, let alone with yourself since before you moved in. Any experience with John had been too rough, basically forced from you but you didn't know any better.

This one moment with Bucky and Steve, everything felt different. They asked if they could play with your hair, caress your face in their hands, or even to soothingly rub your back. Every touch required you to tell them yes. If it made you even the slightest bit uncomfortable, they would stop and move back to something else you had already agreed to, which only made your core dampen more than it already was.

Fighting the nerves, you kissed them both with nothing but love and passion, hinting for something more. It took them a minute to take the hint but when they did, their actions only got softer.

"Are you sure? You don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with." Steve whispered. His and Bucky's eyes had darkened, pupils blown out. This only made you want them more.

You nodded at them both even though you knew they wanted a verbal answer. You gulp before mustering up a soft, "Yes, I want this. Want you. Both of you."

Slowly, you sat up, starting to tug at the hem of your oversized shirt before you felt one metal and one flesh hand move your hands away, removing your shirt for you.

"This is about you, peach. Don't worry about us. We want you to feel good." Bucky whispered in your ear, sending chills down your spine but in the best way possible.

Steve was behind you, rubbing circles into your back as Bucky trailed kissed down your jaw and neck. You leaned back against Steve's chest as Bucky's kisses went lower to your chest. "Can we take this off?" Looping his flesh fingers under the strap of your bra.

"Please…" You breathed out your answer, feeling Steve's hand loop under you to unclasp the article of clothing. You gasped at the cold sensation of Bucky's metal hand brushing over your hot skin and he chuckled softly. "You're so fucking beautiful, you know that? Isn't she, Steve?" You leaned back once more only to gasp again at the light flick that Bucky gave to your nipple. "Absolutely gorgeous." Steve hummed his answer, you could feel his length growing underneath you.

The moment you felt Bucky's mouth over your chest left your mouth agape, your back arching at his touch. His mouth didn't linger long as it started moving lower and lower until he was in between your thighs, kissing over your biker shorts but not over where you wanted him the most.

Out of instinct, you reach down to pull off your remaining clothing but Bucky just shakes his head and replaces your hands with his. This time it's him gasping at how absolutely dripping you are. "Oh you poor baby, probably haven't had someone focused on your pleasure in so long."

Steve's hands moved up to tease your chest, massaging and caressing everything he could reach before pulling his shirt off with you still on top of him. Bucky did the same before placing your thighs over his shoulders, looking for any sign of you being uncomfortable but only saw your eyes shut in pleasure.

Dipping his head down, he licked a broad stripe up your dripping cunt, not even giving you time to be shocked as he got to work. Your sounds were only making him work harder as you took his hands in yours at your side.

John only went down on you once and that was after begging him because it was 'only fair' seeing as you had always done it for him. Steve and Bucky didn't even ask, didn't want you to because unlike John, they cared more about your pleasure than their own.

"Such a good girl," Steve mumbled in your ear before leaving open mouthed kisses on your neck. This only fueled your needs.

"More, Bucky. Please…" You had let go of one of his metal hand only to tangle your fingers in his hair, pushing him even further into your core. He was groaning against you at your neediness, which sent vibrations throughout your entire body.

You were about to beg again but before the words could even come out, you felt two cold fingers at your entrance before they slowly slid in and bumping into your g-spot, which wasn't something you had ever experienced before.

"B-Bucky… oh my god! What was that?" You were a blubbering mess at this new found sensation.

Looking up at you and only moving his mouth away to say, "You can't tell me no one has ever?-" His fingers were curling up at an agonizing pace, your hips bucking on his hand was the only response he needed before he started moving at a faster pace. You were almost at your peak, legs trembling, as he put his mouth back on you and sucked your bundle of nerves into his mouth.

You had never felt this much pleasure before in your life. Only a few more strokes of his hand left and you felt like you had exploded, seeing stars. The sounds you were making and your grip on Bucky's hair had him groaning against you, only heightening your peak and making it more intense. Bucky wasn't done yet though, he was going to drag out your high until you couldn't take anymore, Steve nearly forgotten behind you.

Any words you tried to make were incoherent as Bucky finally slowed down and kissed back up your body. "Such a good girl for us, aren't you, baby?" Chuckling at how you could only nod as a response. The two men would have been happy with at that but you were already sitting up and turning around to give Steve attention, which took them both by surprise.

You were a shy person in general let alone during a situation like this but your orgasm only gave you more confidence. Bucky laid down as you crawled up and straddled Steve. As much as he would love to watch you ride him, you were spent. You looked it to. With a swift motion, you were back on your back, legs spread again as Steve pulled down his pants and his briefs, Bucky following behind shortly.

You knew both of them were packing at the one too many times you had walked in on one of them getting out of the shower so you weren't that surprised to see how big they were in the moment. "I would love to taste you but I can't wait any longer, needa be inside you. Is that alright?" Steve accepted your whimper of a yes and draped his body over yours, giving you a tender kiss before reaching down and running a finger in between your folds and lining himself up to your entrance.

He didn't even need to look up at you for approval, you were already snaking your legs around his hips. "Eager girl, aren't you?" Steve smirked before pressing into you slowly, earning a soft moan from you before rocking his hips slowly as you got used to his size before working up to a faster pace. Both of you moaning and groaning as you raked your nails down his back.

"Fuck, so tight. Don't know how long 'm gonna last." You were already squeezing around, trying to milk him for everything he had.

"F-faster… harder…" You begged and he happily obliged. You didn't care if he didn't last much longer, you knew Bucky wanted a turn and you wanted to give them both a chance at you. "Oh my god, Steve. I'm gonna cum… please." Your begging only made Steve's release come sooner, only letting go when you had reached your peak as well, pulling at his hair as he groaned into your neck before his thrusts slowed to a halt.

You were still catching your breath before the two men swapped places. "Think you can handle one more, peach?" Bucky hovered over, looking for any sign of you wanting to stop. "I sure hope so." You chuckled out of breath still before gasping as Bucky flipped you over onto your stomach and pulling your hips up to meet his, his hands resting at your hips.

"That's a good girl," lining himself up, Bucky groaned at the wetness that was Steve's release mixed with yours as he pushed in. Steve was longer but Bucky was noticeably thicker as he pushed into you. "You weren't kidding, Steve. So. Fucking. Tight." Bucky growled out. Steve reached over to moved your hair out of your face before Bucky started thrusting into you.

"If it's too much, just say and we'll stop and take care of you." Steve reassured you before nodding to Bucky, encouraging him to pick up the pace.

And he did, his thrusts were relentless but were all for your pleasure. Neither of you would last very long but he wanted this one to be the best orgasm of the night. "Steve," Bucky managed, nodding his head to Steve, motioning for him to touch you. The whine you let out when Steve scooted down to rub feverish circles around your clit which was only bringing your third incredibly intense orgasm of the night only moments away.

"Oh god… of fuck fuck FUCK…" amongst another string of curses cam out of both you and Bucky's mouth as you came, covering Bucky's thighs, Steve's hand, and your comforter. It only took that sight and a couple more thrusts as Bucky was filling you to the brim. "Fuck…." He groaned, "Can't say I've ever had that happen before."

You drop to lay flat on your stomach on the bed, clearly oblivious to you squirting all over the two men and your blanket, only humming in response. "Did you know that you could do that, baby? Did you know you could squirt?" Your eyes widened at Steve as he asked, he took that answer as an obvious 'no' and chuckled softly.

You wished you could move but you were so fucked out that your limbs were limp. Steve got up and grabbed a new t-shirt and underwear for you to put on as Bucky eased out of you, causing another whine from you at the sensation. Steve left the room temporarily just to get a warm washcloth and a different blanket for the three of you as the other one was deemed in need of a wash.

The two cleaned and dressed you before laying out the new blanket over you. Bucky laid down first, pulling you to lay on his chest before Steve crawled behind you, spooning you. You were barely conscious but you heard the small I love you's and praises from them about how good you did. You breathed out a small 'love you too' before falling asleep.

[hinatastinygiant]

Chapter Fourteen

The Bad Idea

Pairing: Draken x Fem!Reader

previous | next | in too deep

Kisaki forces you straight into your apartment, cursing at you as you fight him the whole time up the stairs. But he locks you inside without a single care, leaving you alone with your thoughts that make your brain want to explode. You finally end up letting out a scream from how pissed-off angry you are that you could even think about killing your brother- but how much better you'll feel once you finally get rid of him. This is no longer about your parents and whatever messed up crap they want from you. It's now about getting even with your deranged sibling.

You reach for your phone, thinking maybe you could text Draken or someone from the first division, but you doubt they'd even answer you. Besides, you don't even know the conclusion of the war yet. They could all be dead for all you know...

You look around your apartment and try to come up with any kind of plan for escape. You rush to your window and look down, suddenly remembering just how high up the fifth floor is. There's absolutely no way you can jump and survive that. But as you look down against the building's outside wall, you notice that your brother's apartment window is just below yours.

You rush to your bedroom and pull off the sheets of your bed. There's absolutely no way this is going to work, you tell yourself. I mean, this only works in movies, right? I'm going to fucking die! But it's better than sitting here and waiting for my asshole of a brother to get back and do god knows what with me!

You quickly tie your sheets together and secure one end to the foot of your sofa. On the other end, you grab a lamp and quickly tie it together. You then carry the lamp towards the window and toss it down so it shatters the window directly below you.

Taking in a deep breath, you carefully step one foot out your window and climb down until your feet reach the broken sill. You then slowly step through and enter your brother's apartment. But just as you reach his front door on the other side of the room, he steps in front of you out of nowhere.

"Where are you going?" he asks emotionlessly. "Where do you have left to go?"

"Anywhere but here," you scoff, having enough of his bullshit.

Suddenly, before he gets the chance to open his stupid mouth again, the door swings open. Distracted by the sudden outburst, your brother turns around. You use the free time to rush back across the room, grab the lamp from before, and whack him straight across the head. Only when he's passed out on the ground do you look at who has just entered.

Shocked to see Draken with Chifuyu and Takemichi on either of his side, you fall down onto your knees feeling suddenly light headed. "How'd you guys find this place?" you ask weakly.

"It was easy we just followed you guys here," Chifuyu smiles.

"His name is written on the fucking door, too," Draken adds.

"Well, not anymore," Takemichi mutters.

"Thanks, guys," you smile softly as you muster up as much energy as you can to stand back up on your feet. "I wasn't expecting you to come after everything Hanma said."

"Ah, we knew all along," Takemichi grins proudly.

"No we didn't," Chifuyu whispers as he nudges his friend in the arm.

"Yeah, but Y/N doesn't know that!" Takemichi continues.

You smile at their banter, seeing nothing has changed. But as you move your eyes over to Draken, your smile immediately fades.

"I'm really sorry for all the messed up crap my brother has done to you and everyone around you. None of you guys deserved any of that. I know that nobody could ever replace the people you lost but I hope I could at least help out if there's any way I can."

Draken takes a small step towards you and wraps his arms around your waist. You can feel your face heat up as your body meets his. "Draken, I really am sorry-"

"Don't. I know what you went through, too, so you don't need to keep apologizing to me," he explains. Then, as you look up at him, he smiles softly. "But you must promise not to lie to me again, okay?"

"Okay," you smile back. "I promise."

Takemichi then kicks Kisaki's unconscious body and shivers. "What do we do now?" he asks.

"We get the hell out of here," you reply.

The four of you quickly rush out of the apartment, descend the stairs, and stand outside by their three bikes. "Wait," you then ask. "Where do you guys plan on going?"

"Toman, obviously," Draken replies.

"Everyone's back at Toman already? What about the war?"

Chifuyu shrugs. "After Kisaki left to go deal with you, we only had to really deal with Hanma, but it was pretty quick and we still won."

"No way, so everyone's alright?"

"Probably not," Draken sighs as he shakes his head. "I'm sure they're all filling up on alcohol and whatever other drugs they can get their hands on as we speak. We better go."

You then quickly hop onto the back of Chifuyu's bike and ride away from your apartment from hell that you'll never return to again.

previous | next | in too deep

Taglist: @6-022-10-23 @bontensbabygirl @lonnie19 @captainsbaby @thisbicc

[thebadbatch]

A/N: I really hope this is what you wanted! I really appriciate your request and I genuinly loved writing it! Thank you so much :)

Imperial!Crosshair x Drunk Reader

Plot: You work as apart of Crosshair's squad fighting alongside him. This time you decide to disobey his orders, (despite being very close with him), and go out to get drunk. Calling Crosshair to come and get you was a good plan though, even if he is a little mad.

Warnings: Mentions of Alcohol, being drunk and drinking at bars.

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

Come and get me.

Working within the Empire certainly had its perks. You were always well paid for your missions too and they gave out plenty of time for you to spend your credits. Your name was feared across the galaxy with the rest of the squad you were a part of which was thrilling to you. The Empire had actually recognised your strength as an individual a while ago and had hired you to be a part of their brand new lethal squad which you couldn't say no to. At this point you were close with them all, especially your commander Crosshair. The rest of your squad always teased you for being so close with him, saying you were only after a promotion. That wasn't true though, you both just understood one another. He was going through something of his own, he hadn't discussed it with you or your squad yet though. As harsh and as numb as he was on missions, you were always with him and never disobeyed his orders. Well that was until now anyway… 

Currently you were dancing with a bunch of random people in a bar, music blaring through the speakers making the drinks upon the bar shake along with the rhythm. Were you completely out of your head with alcohol? Oh yeah one hundred percent and you almost weren't regretting it- almost. Crosshair had ordered you to finish filling out report papers and head Straight to your bunk ready for your mission tomorrow. You had kind of nearly finished signing them all off but you just needed a little rest and the only place open at two in the morning was Crimson bar. One drink seemed like an excellent idea to push you through the last of the report papers but the fruity liquid that burnt your throat reasoned with you that you deserved more. So more it was and now you were on your fourth, not being used to alcohol, dancing with complete strangers who loved your energy. Dancing for hours on end seemed to finally tire you out as your legs began to feel a little misplaced stumbling to the bar and shoving yourself onto a seat that you almost missed. There was no way in the galaxy you could get back to your sleeping quarters alone and unharmed in this current state - the room was literally beginning to spin. The multi coloured lights were blinding but contributed to the buzz of adrenaline that you felt, all previous senses being destroyed as the alcohol really hit your system. Contacting ES-02 was your first idea, She was one of your closest friends within your squad but she wouldn't come and get your she didn't disobey orders like you did even though it was all new. Without really thinking, you had already contacted Crosshair who seriously didn't seem impressed with you waking him.

"What?" He grumbled, causing you to laugh and lean back against the bar thinking about the grumpy expression that he was most certainly using now.

"You'll never guess what!" You attempted to make your voice louder than the music that sent vibrations shaking through your body which in all honesty just made you laugh even more. "I'm drunk!" Almost feeling Crosshair explode at the other end of the signal, another laugh escaped through your lips. 

"What do you mean you're out drunk?" Grinning wide at the Comm system against your arm almost like it was the Elite squads leader himself, your legs swayed back and forth against the stool you were wonkily placed upon. 

"That's not even the best part!" You squealed, way too excited for your own good at this point. "You have to come and get me!" 

"Why do I have to get you!" His voice snarled, it was something that you couldn't help but find perfect. You were the only member of the squad who wasn't afraid of his anger. To you it was completely justifiable and everybody took his commands way more seriously than they usually would have.

"'Cause I can't walk." You slurred, focusing on the lights Swirling around the room almost as if they were dancing together. Crosshair had cut the comm off but you knew he was on his way. He wouldn't leave you when you needed his help just like you wouldn't leave him if he needed you. Some time had passed in the bar, a new crowd had emerged into the room and one of them was talking to you with their arm around your shoulder. 

"I'll give you two seconds to remove your arm from them otherwise there's going to be a deadman." Crosshairs voice spoke up resulting in your eyes darting toward him with a huge smile. He was in lighter attire, a black jacket covering his white shirt and black trousers filled with an assortment of chains hanging from his pockets. His firepuncher Sniper rifle clung to his back which made you smile before focusing your gaze to the toothpick lingering against his lips. The person had already moved away after a glare which Crosshair more than happily returned. "Come on. Let's go." His words were firm, almost nearing the tone of his usual orders on the battlefield. As you stood, the room began to spin rapidly causing you to fall into Cross who caught you with ease. 

"Oops." You laughed, trying to move back but to no avail. Without another word, he lifted you up so that your head was against his shoulder and your legs were supported with one arm, the other holding your back. Walking out, the fresh and cold air slapped you in the face causing you to grogan a little and hide against his neck for some comfort. His footsteps were gentle against the gravel that crumbled beneath them and his breathing was soothing - pulling your mind back a little to muster a thank you. "Thank you Cross."

"Mhm." He replied as you both finally reached the bunks you were  assigned to. Locking you both shared a room like the other two members did. "Never disobey my orders again." His words were firm but you could tell his eyes were soft against the dark room, thankful you reached out to him before you got yourself into any trouble.

"Yes sir." You giggled, clinging onto him a little. "Let me sleep beside you?" Crosshair didn't even attempt to argue as he lay you into his bunk, getting rid of his jacket and chains before joining you against the white blankets. His arms gently wrapped around you as you let out a gentle yawn feeling the buzz of the alcohol slowly begin to subside. 

"You owe me." He chuckled a little at your red cheeks, the previous amount of alcohol leaving your face heated and your body now numb. Nodding against his warmth, you hid against him giggling a little.

"Mhm." You replied, smiling up at him before feeling sleep tug at you once more and unlike before going to Crimson Red, you actually complied and fell asleep to Crosshair's rhythmic breathing and words.

" I won't ever leave you behind, y/n."

[brattyfics]

— until we meet again, preciosa

PAIRING || bishop losa x black!ofc, miguel galindo x black!ofc (mentioned)

SUMMARY || She’s not his, and she won’t ever be, so he leaves her with words whispered like a promise. “Until we meet again, preciosa.”

TAGS || angst, unresolved feelings, not a hea, mentions of toxic relationships, sex (referenced).

WORD COUNT || 1.6k

Shadowy clouds hang overhead, blocking out the warming glow of the Sun. Raindrops pelt the roof above, drumming a beat of their own before pooling down to the concrete paved streets below. Isis watches stray droplets gather on the tall windows for several moments before stepping out onto the covered balcony. It felt colder than usual inside the three-story, Spanish-style shophouse, but outside it’s the opposite-- balmy, earthy. The air is heavy with humidity, so she has to take deep breaths, but she doesn’t enjoy it any less. Invigoration comes with the rain, brings hope for new beginnings, renews faith for the hopeless.

Down below, people dart between vendors to continue their shopping as the rain lightens. Colorful rays spring from puddles up towards the sky. A pair of young siblings splash each other while their mother sells delicious smelling tamales wrapped in banana leaves. Another young woman peddles gold necklaces, praying candles, and other little knick-knacks to the tourists of Sonora. Everybody has to make a living, including Isis.

She spends her days stroking the strings of a guitar or the keys of her piano, helping patrons of the music shop in between. The ground floor of the shophouse boasts string instruments and an extensive collection of vinyl records. After hours, she makes money hosting private piano lessons. She performs at the Discoteca down the street on weekends, fueling her passion for music almost 24/7 except when Preciosa is closed for ‘maintenance’.

Overstock merchandise and whatever else the Mayans’ Motorcycle Clubs needs to store clutters the second floor. Don’t ask, don’t tell is her motto, so whenever they come to the shop, she simply flips the sign to closed. There’s no point in fighting it. Besides, El Presidente always makes it a bearable, if not pleasant, experience. Bishop had called ahead to warn her that he was bringing Hank, Angel, and the new prospect, Angel’s baby brother, along. She could hear them bumping around, a noisy reminder that her shop only thrived because of the illegal deals happening in the back.

“Why don’t you put all that time and energy into something that’ll get you somewhere?” Being a musician wasn’t an acceptable career in her mother’s eyes, so the woman took every chance she could to crush her daughter’s dreams. “Nobody wants to hear all that noise!” Staring out into the street, she can’t help but wonder where she would’ve ended up if her mother had been supportive. Maybe she could have been a star rising to the top of Billboard charts or someone who worked behind the scenes, writing songs, singing demos. She had the skill set. Yes, her path would have been much different.

Isis had stood front and center, crooning out an old school blues song at a hole-in-the-wall spot when Miguel Galindo first laid eyes on her. It was a chance meeting, one that felt like fate at the time because dive bars weren’t his scene. The owner was a business associate who decided to try his hand at being a restaurateur; Miguel had been kind enough to come out and support. When he caught sight of her shapely frame in a slinky, satin number, he insisted on being introduced.

Miguel stood out in a crowd, wearing a tailored button-down, dark dress pants, and an expensive pair of Italian leather shoes. His salt and pepper beard groomed to perfection, hair gelled so that no strand was out of place. The moment she’d looked into his eyes, she was caught in his web. His masculine scent drew her in like honey to a bee. His charisma held her attention. Miguel sweet-talked her all night, insisting Isis sit next to him, eat h’orderves, and drink overpriced champagne. She obliged. Who could say no to that face? He used their close proximity to reel her in like a fish on a hook, leaning down to whisper in her ear. You’re beautiful. He told her. You have such a smooth, seductive tone. You should be performing for bigger crowds. Have you ever thought about branching out? He told her everything her mother never had, so she was a lamb to the slaughter.

For months, Miguel had treated her like his very own LifeSize doll to play with. He took her on shopping sprees, kept her draped in silk and lace. Isis didn’t think of herself as materialistic, but she couldn’t deny being showered in gifts felt splendid. He was always so tender, handling her delicately as his newest prized possession. As time went on, she became more like an ornament. Something for him to marvel at when he felt like it and then hide away the rest of the time. But nothing was worse than him leaving her to harden after he was finished molding her like clay. She asked for more—time, commitment, only for him to do the opposite.

Thus, Preciosa was born. A way for him to placate her and later make it easier for the M.C. to make him money.

“Just a few more minutes, and we’ll be out your way.” Isis jumped at the sound, turning away from the street to see Bishop. She hadn’t heard him come outside; didn’t expect him to venture up into her personal space.

Isis’ smile rarely reached her eyes, Bishop noticed. He stepped forward, holding a velvet box that felt heavier than it was. Her fingertips tickled him as he passed it over. Diamonds surrounded in white gold gleamed as the clouds cleared away for the Sun. Even Bishop could admit the set was gorgeous, but she didn’t look impressed. He hated being Galindo’s delivery boy, watching the way her face fell when the gifts she received became increasingly impersonal with each week. Not long ago, he’d also been tasked with passing along handwritten love notes or antique music sheets that she caressed like she would a lover’s skin.

“Thank you.”

She couldn’t hide her disappointment from him. Not for lack of trying-- Miguel always reminded her, appearances were everything. Smile. Don’t make me look bad. But Bishop watched her closely, knew her tells. Despite every nerve in his brain urging him to walk away, he steps forward to stand next to her. His calloused hands rest on the balcony’s edge next to her delicate pair, brown in varying tones of sepia and mahogany contrasting against the white paint.

Bishop feels the heat of her eyes on his frame, but he doesn’t let himself respond. Sharing this moment, a quick breath of fresh air will have to be enough. But she’s all around him, smelling of florals and sweet spices. He can’t think. He fumbles with his pockets in search of a cigarette. “You mind?” She shakes her head but is otherwise silent. Still watching him as he smokes; the way he takes long, steady pulls, cradling the stick between his full lips and then between his strong, veined fingers. She would bet her last dollar that he was an expert at other things involving his fingers and mouth.

When his hand drops again, she links her pinky with his, hesitant but exploratory.

Bishop looks at her, really looks at her like he sees her. It’s nice to be seen, especially when you’re the princess locked up far, far away from everyone you’ve ever known. She’s a black girl from Texas living in Sonora for goodness’ sake. This is no life, and she knows it. Several moments pass where neither can look away, both weighing their desires with the potential consequences.

With a deep breath in, she musters up the courage to ask Bishop what she’s been wanting to for months.

“Stay?”

Her heart feels like it might just explode while she waits for a response.

Bishop drops his head to his chest, cursing under his breath. “Fuck.” If Miguel ever found out… But he already knew what his answer would be. He’d been waiting for the invitation. The heated looks they exchanged, the way her fingers lingered on his when he passed her something. That damned pout she wore when Miguel forgot to send a flower arrangement-- she had no idea Bishop had been the one buying the flowers for some time now. No matter what mood she was in, fresh flowers always brightened her day. He loved watching that lonely look transform into something more lively, curious as she marveled over his choice for the week. He went for variety, slowly learning what she loved and what she just liked; her favorite color, favorite scent.

The subtle tension between them, he wasn’t even certain she noticed. The cash and the bling could’ve blinded her to all other men. But it didn’t.

When the Sun had gone down several hours later, and the guys were gone, Bishop redressed. Belt buckling with a clink, leather sliding over his shoulders easily. He let himself take one last look at her wrapped up in a poofy comforter set. The mustard-yellow velvet complimented her skin in the best way, bringing out a gold undertone. Her eyes seem to have brightened as well. He couldn’t resist leaning over to stroke her sweaty skin. Dark coils stuck to her beautiful face, frizzy in some parts from when she rode him, sweat escaping from her pores, flat in the others from when he laid her on her back and hooked her legs over her shoulders.

He wants to stay, to prop himself up against the intricately carved wood headboard and hold her in his lap while they whisper sweet nothing to each other, but he can’t.

She’s not his, and she won’t ever be, so he leaves her with words whispered like a promise. “Until we meet again, preciosa.”

NOTES || This fic and the collage above was inspired by @isisafrofairy’s gorgeous moodboard! Also, the wonderful “Until we meet again, preciosa” line is hers as well. This is my thank you for the moodboard you made for me. I really leaned on the pictures you used for inspiration and I think I managed to capture/include each element. It was so hard not to ruin the surprise, but I was able to shut tf up for once 😂 I’m really proud of how this turned out, and hopefully you enjoy it just as much! Also, I realize the moodboard had nothing to do with Miguel but he lives in my head rent-free apparently 🥴

GENERAL TAGLIST || @woahitslucyylu @briannab1234 @sheeshgivemeabreak @breakingnewsin-no-oneasked @angelreyesgirl @blessedboo @glimmerglittergirl @apantherinmypastlife @brownsugarcoffy @marvelmaree @starrynite7114 @scuzmunkie @thewarriorprincessxo @sadeyesgf @pearlkitten33 @imanerdychubbyqueen @literaturefeen @ourlittlesecretsoveragain @everyhowlmarksthedead @yourwonkywriter @trulysuccubus @sparklemichele @luckyharley1903 @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @amorestevens​

MAYANS M.C. TAGLIST || @cant-decide-at-this-moment

[imnotgrimimjustagrumpyreaper]

Everything you never thought to ask and never wanted to know about my Josépan playlist/history with and opinions of the ship.

Intro:

The journey of this playlist has been a long one, starting on Amazon Music and my old, janky and now defunct Ipad.

STRAP IN, CHILDREN AS I TAKE YOU BACK TO A MAGICAL TIME WHEN NEITHER LEGENDS OF THE THREE CABALLEROS; NOR THEIR CAMEO IN DUCKTALES HAD BEEN ANNOUNCED YET, MY BLOG ON TUMBLR DIDN’T EXIST (THOUGH I WAS LURKING) AND PANCHITO WAS STILL THE LEAST POPULAR CABALLERO, otherwise known as around late 2017.

A word on the origins of the playlist:

The playlist was not initially Ducktales focused because the two didn’t exist in Ducktales yet. I was rather unenthusiastic back in the day about this ship (oh how the times change) but I had stumbled across a song that didn’t fit them and Donald but fit just them very well and wanted to make an animatic of it. So, I cobbled together some songs I thought fit the vibe and made a playlist.

The history behind the story that inspired it:

I’ll spare you from starting at the very beginning. But, when “The Town Where Everyone was Nice” premiered I was already thoroughly and utterly obsessed with the cabs; I remember how beyond ecstatic I was for the episode. My hype for the Ducktales versions of José and Panchito continued far beyond what seems to have been normal for the average cabs fan. I found myself drawn to the ideas put forth by those versions of them. I don’t really remember what the tipping point was for me to break down and make my own college AU but eventually I did. It was affectionately dubbed “The TV Show That Will Never Happen AU.” José and Panchito were enemies to lovers or at least to friends. And it was around that time I began to go CRAZY with the headcanons as I got more active in the fandom. While my ideas for the Ducktales versions of them grew and grew, so too did the time between them appearing in “The Town Where Everyone was Nice” and their alleged next appearance in the show. When fans noticed the distinct lack of José and Panchito in the season two finale of Ducktales, Francisco Angones, @//suspenderofdisbelief on Tumblr answered these two separate asks that I might have engraved on tombstone one day:

I was GONE for the ship after that. I developed another AU for them based around their time in Baia trying to get people to fund their attempts to become famous musicians. Also, slowly falling in love... It was affectionately titled “The Fan-Comic that Will Never Happen” but not yet connected to my college AU. I don’t have much of a timeline for it after this point, but with that AU I really hit my stride for interpretations of the two characters and their dynamic. The version of them I hold dear in my heart and headcanons came to be. Then “Louie’s Eleven” came out and absolutely destroyed a lot of my headcanons (just kidding, just kidding). Since the new canon material didn’t really jive with a lot of the wholesomeness I had built up I was left with a lot of something else: angst. I LOVE angst, but the two’s bitterness and arguing...It was hard to accept at the time. Me and @cartoon-lizard on Tumblr, my IRL best friend, wound up writing a Josépan fic fueled on a bit of that angst and by her grace, a lot of my headcanons. I titled it “My Reverie is Being Haunted by That Ass.” In it Panchito makes an ass (rimshot noises) of himself by running off with a producer he met by chance during a visit in Duckburg to try to become famous. And doing so without so much as a second thought to the person he’s been living with/sort of dating for over a year. It took me a while but eventually I figured it out. These weren’t three separate AUs, these were three separate pieces of the same AU. And so my masterpiece never meant to be made came to be: “The Trilogy: College/Baia/Reverie.”

“The Trilogy” Itself:

The story will never be written for a variety of reasons, personal and practical. But if it ever were to be written it would be three separate fics, aka: College, Baia and Reverie.

College encapsulates their college years (duh).

To set the stage:

Panchito: A friendly, arrogant and easily excitable musician with big dreams, good grades and a whole lot of anxiety and insecurity. He has complicated feelings towards his identity as both trans and pan and how that might affect his dreams of becoming famous, but is overall bright eyed and innocent enough.

José: A lazy (depressed), charming, pessimistic, tbh kind of a douche and deep in the closet gay man. He tends to push forward a very “Manly man” persona to make up for his own deep seated internalized homophobia brought on by a shitty upbringing. He just got away from said shitty upbringing and doesn’t really have any hopes for his future...Maybe to travel a bit?

José and Panchito start as enemies, both fearing losing their one real friend, Donald, to the other. Despite this the three start a band and the two’s rivalry becomes far more friendly. They get particularly close during the trip down to Acapulco for spring break where the general feeling of being disconnected from life and reality leads to several rather romantic moments between the two...They almost become a thing several times but never quite do. However, they are very good friends by the end of college. The three stay in contact for a while after college but eventually lose touch…

Baia timeskips forward 13 years later (I know it's only 10 canonically, I always say 13 for reasons) to a conversation between Panchito and José on the Sunchaser at the end of “The Town Where Everyone Was Nice.”

Panchito: Life hasn’t been kind to Panchito...His need to be famous, to be something in order to be someone has led him to push a lot of people out of his life so he can better focus on “Work.” Or drive them out by constantly asking for their support, financial or otherwise. He has no friends and even his relationships with his loving and supportive family are strained. Currently, he’s working freelance as a performer at childrens’ birthday parties (in his eyes: a clown) and goes home to a sad, empty apartment every night to stare at a notebook full of half written songs and muster enough energy to eat cereal for dinner for the third time in a row. Needless to say, his optimism is wearing thin.

José: A lot of hard work on his part, some good therapy and mmm; drugs have put him in a pretty good place. He’s more or less got his life together now, is way less of a douche and is more of a realist than a pessimist. He’s also pretty much completely comfortable in his identity as a gay man. He’s been trying to explore romantic relationships, but unfortunately (likely due to the loveless marriage between his parents making him strive so hard to believe that love is real that he puts the unrealistic goal of true love above all else) feels incomplete without one and double unfortunately has a tendency to be drawn to toxicity and abusive situations. So other than a string of (short lived) bad relationships, he’s actually doing great!

Panchito has already asked Donald to drop everything and stay with him down in Baia to try to get funding for the band. Donald said no. José has a steady job, a decent apartment and a supportive friend group back home. He's also long since lost interest and hope in their college dreams of being famous...José says yes. The two have a bunch of wild and wacky shenanigans trying to get funding and both dance around their growing feelings for each other until it explodes and overwhelms them. They rush into a romantic relationship head first with no real ground for it to be built on and unrealistic expectations of what the other can give them. Despite all this, things seem quite happy...for a while…

If you've made it this far, <3, CONT. in pt 2.

[whump-a-la-mode]

Gilded Cage - Part 6

This one is a little bit shorter, but I hope you guys still enjoy! It’s pretty intense.

Last time, our custom choice won out: Option C. However, there were still quite a few votes for both A and B. On account of the voting, Villain will attack Hero specifically.

Thanks to everyone for all their suggestions. There’s a lot, so I’m not going to name them all, but you know who you are, and thank you!

Now, let’s see our Villain suffer >:)

CW// Imprisonment, collars, shock collars, villain whumpee, (fantasy) steroids, extensive discussion of fire, torture, beating, blood, ambulances, being unable to breathe

You make fire. That was all you were, once. Before they knew your name. The pyrokinetic. The arsonist.

Villain felt their heart catch in their throat. The heat was suffocating them, now. Their breath had turned to steam. In tiny puffs, it escaped through the sides of their mouth-- though they could not be quite sure if that was real, or not.

They were Villain. Not a prop. Not a doll.

They cast their gaze, once more, out over the people looking on. The innocents that Hero claimed to work so hard to protect. To care so much about. The city.

And yet, it was Hero who had brought the firebrand to this place.

Kerosene welled up in their veins, flooding their heart, stretching ventricles until they threatened to explode. This flame, they had been forcing it down for so long. Their mouth tasted like gasoline, now. Gone were nervous, stuttering platitudes.

Heat warped the edges of their vision, now. It was not hard to imagine the stadium, torn apart by overwhelming, living heat, charred at its very core. It was harder, in fact, to see it in its current state. Unburnt and horrid.

Fixing it would be so simple.

The steam from the edges of their lips turned with such speed to licking flame.

You are afraid of destruction.

But were they? How long had they lived for destruction? How long had their name appeared in headlines next to addresses that now stood as rubble?

The pyrokinetic. The arsonist.

Villain lifted their head, heat-scarred vision gazing to the world around them.

The people.

They wanted nothing more than to tear this stadium to rubble. To leave it nothing more than a patch of scorched Earth. Nothing but bones.

But...

If warmth is not evil, then why are you? 

These people, they depended on warmth. They spent their lives in their heated homes, until the warmth of streetlights and phone lamps. In the all-consuming heat of ignorance.

They did not know. They were under Hero’s sway, just as everyone was. Caught in the thrall of pleasant lies.

The lie of a reformed villain, smiling for the camera.

But could a villain ever truly be reformed? Through therapy? Through torture?

Villain did not know. These people did not know either-- and they did not deserve to die. They did not deserve pain.

No. This villain had a much better target to pursue. For a moment, just one, the heat of their own flame made it almost feel as though their neck was devoid of collar. A split second of freedom.

It was all the taste they needed.

I thought that you deserved to understand that. Do you understand?

Yes. They understood.

The chill of Hero’s voice was no longer marred by the sun. Amplified by their microphone, it rung out:

“We all know what Villain had done. I know it better than anyone. But bloodshed is never the answer. Harming Villain would make us no better than them.”

Villain did not realize that they had seized the microphone, not until they felt the plastic begin to warp beneath the contours of their fingers. The steam they called a voice threatened to melt the device’s metal head, too, as they spoke to it:

“Then I’m sorry to see you’ve sunken to my level.”

The crowd was silenced. Hero’s smile twitched.

“What?” Villain sniped. “You say my name so much, yet you get upset when I actually speak?”

Hero’s smile fell. There had been fury below it, all that time, but now it finally lot its spotlight.

“So, do it.” The pyrokinetic, the arsonist backed up a step from the podium, turning to face the audience. “You’re so proud of having tamed me. Why not give everyone a live demonstration? Show them exactly how you did it? Go ahead! It’ll be a special treat.”

The corner of the podium, where a certain Hero’s hand had been grasping, shattered into wood splinters. A moment later, podium turned to projectile, polished oak flying towards Villain with a furious force.

It only managed to sail a few inches, before it turned once again from podium to ash.

Finally, finally, Villain’s flame escaped.

They had not so much as noticed the security personnel, rushing towards the stage, but they quickly stopped being a concern. The ring of flame, several feet in height, that sprung up around the stage’s base provided more than enough protection.

“You aren’t going to do anything? Not going to protect your precious city? Not going to show everyone just how heroic you are?”

That did it.

At last, the microphone gave in, turning to melted plastic beneath Villain’s hand. But no mic was needed to project Hero’s furious scream to the world.

Said scream was followed almost immediately by a strangled gasp. It must have taken all of Hero’s will, to grip their hand around Villain’s neck without snapping it.

The latter struggled to gargle out a few more words, but their voice had been already stolen. The solid ground below them, too, was taken, as the hand about their neck lifted them nearly a foot from it.

“You ungrateful piece of shit!”

The two met eyes, brutal flaming gazes, for only a second, before the stage’s facade was shattered by Villain’s body, flung like a ragdoll through it. They filled their lungs with panic croaks, attempting to clamber to their hands and knees, but there was no time.

All around, news cameras zoomed in as a single kick from Hero flipped the broken Villain onto their back. The boot did not wait to make its next attack. To the panicked crowd, the snapping of ribs sounded horribly like a gunshot.

A shot that sounded, again and again, until the flame spilling from Villain’s mouth was thoroughly replaced by coughed-up blood. Any feeble attempt at a counter-attack was quickly and utterly destroyed by yet another stomp.

Every snap, every break, filled Hero’s victim with utter, frigid cold. Heat spilled onto the stage’s floorboards in the form of scarlet, seeping through the cracks and dripping to the grass below.

The audience was screaming. At first, Villain thought it to be cheering. They expected it to be cheering. But it was not.

All those people, thousands of voices, all mixed together in terrified choir, all sounded off:

“Stop!”

Villain was afforded no time to think about this development. The second kick in their side was worse than the first, shifting already shattered bones and sending them flying to the lip of the stage’s front. Far too close to their own flame that still raged, yet had begun to flicker.

Sidekick had wanted a show, after all.

The absence of the next attack was almost as painful as if it had struck.

Had Villain’s eyes not been sealed closed by agony, they would have seen two of Hero’s teammates, grasping them by the arms, holding them back with all the might they could muster.

Sidekick had wanted a show, and Villain had given it to them.

There, on the floorboards, skin feeling to be ice, they gasped. Their lungs screamed for air, air that they could not provide. Instead, any particles of oxygen that could be brought in were accompanied by a rush of crimson.

Pain wasn’t enough to describe the feeling.

When they at last managed to open their leaded eyelids, they found their ring of flame, protecting them from the world around, to have shrunk to half its height, revealing those who tried to breach it.

They were not soldiers. Not guards.

No. They were civilians. Citizens. The city. Teenagers and teachers and office workers and mechanics. Some beat at the flame with spare articles of clothing, while at least one had managed to acquire a hose.

Villain could not let them in. They would ruin the show...

But their eyelids were so heavy. Every blink carried with it the effort of pushing a boulder uphill.

A coughing fit was what finally sapped that last shred of their energy, leaving the ring of flame as only a memory and a ring of burnt grass.

They closed their eyes.

The hands that laid upon them, now, were not those of newspeople or torturers. They were so kind. So unimaginably gentle. Truly kind, more than the facade of a plush duvet. Moving them to their side, opening their airways. Hastily removed sweatshirts, pressed against their bleeding wounds, all accompanied by quiet voices:

“I’m a doctor. It’s okay, they’re breathing.”

“Can we get an ambulance?”

“We already called one. I sent my wife out front, she’s going to bring the medics back here.”

“Am I pressing hard enough?”

“A little harder. We need to stop the bleeding...”

“Are they going to be okay?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know.”

All indistinguishable, but all so terribly kind.

By the time Villain heard a voice they recognized, they finally felt as though they could once again breathe. Constant pressure on their wounds had turned to quickly moving hands, deftly wrapping their injuries with torn shreds of clothes.

The voice they heard... they did not know if they were glad to hear it or not.

“Villain.” Sidekick muttered, nearly whispering to their ear. “You did good. You did so, so good. Are you ready to go with us? Are you ready to be free, again?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

What should our Whumpee do? It’s up to you to decide!

There are two options, each one leading to a separate story branch. Alongside each option is a question specifying what exactly will happen. Answering this question is completely optional, but it is great if you have any particular ideas! Otherwise, feel free to just put a letter.

To vote, feel free to use any means you would like to contact me. Replying or reblogging this post works just fine, as does PMing me directly or sending me an ask. I am unsure when I will be writing the next part, so as long as the next part hasn’t been posted yet, voting is still open!

I will choose the story path based on which option has more votes, and will choose whichever answer I find the most interesting to base the next part upon. The choices and questions for this part are as follows:

A) Yes, you are ready. Go with Sidekick - Even if going with Sidekick, should they be trusted? B) No. Going with Sidekick is not freedom. Go to the ambulance - Where should Villain go afterwards?

If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to contact me. This is my first time doing anything like this, so I apologize if it’s odd or confusing ^^

[sentakushimasu]

if i can't taste your lips just let me taste blood

pairing: bakugou katsuki/kirishima eijirou summary: work studies are meant to be educational, not fatal, but bakugou and kirishima are trapped with a growing puddle of blood and no way to get out genre: hurt/comfort, whump word count: 2.6k warnings: blood, hospitals, bakugou trying to articulate emotions title from: we are the dirt - it's never enough AO3

When Kirishima came to it was with a lot of confusion and pain. The first thing he noticed was the searing pain emanating from his abdomen that blurred and subdued his other senses. The second thing he noticed was that it was really dark.

Dark to the point where he wasn’t sure if he was opening his eyes at all, unable to figure out where the hell he was or how he got there.

The pain, however, was very clearly not a fixture of his foggy and disoriented brain. It kept getting worse, the burning sensation reaching all the way down to his feet. In the haze of pain he couldn’t pinpoint any actual injury, only able to tell that there was something really heavy pressing down on his midsection.

The whine he let out was involuntary, but if he was alone he was going to make as many pathetic noises as he wanted.

Only, he wasn’t alone.

“Kirishima? Kirishima, are you awake?”

That was Bakugou’s voice, but Bakugou never called him by his name, and especially not with the worry that currently saturated his tone.

Kirishima grumbled and tried to push the weight off him. It was so heavy, borderline crushing him but he couldn’t get it to move. What he assumed were Bakugou’s hands swatted his away from whatever was pinning him down.

“Fucking hell, would you stop that?”

Kirishima squirmed again, trying desperately to get even a little bit of the weight off him. “There’s something on top of me-”

“Yeah, that’s me. You’re bleeding.”

“Hmm? Sorry,” Kirishima floundered until his fingers connected with Bakugou’s wrist, looping around the limb. “You can stop, I’m alright.”

“What the fuck? No. You’re fucking bleeding everywhere.”

Bakugou’s face came slightly more into focus as Kirishima’s eyes adjusted to the darkness. He kept looking between Kirishima’s abdomen and his face. He looked worried, and if Kirishima didn’t value his life he would dare say that Bakugou was scared. He was still in his hero gear, the stupid theatric spikes framing his head, a distinct trail of blood marring his features as it trailed down his face from his hairline.

“Are you hurt?” Kirishima couldn’t help but ask.

“What? No.”

“You’re bleeding,” Kirishima supplied helpfully.

Bakugou narrowed his eyes and turned back to the wound, applying more pressure. “Not as much as you.”

Swallowing the whine in the back of his throat, Kirishima decided to actually start a conversation with his friend. He had no idea how long they would be there and he wasn’t into spending that uncertain length of time in tense silence with Bakugou. “What happened?”

“Work study. Big villain attack so Endeavour sent us out as backup. One of ‘em cornered you in here so I came to tell ‘em to fuck off but you were on the ground and when I exploded the asshole, the fucking ceiling caved in.”

“At least I’m not stuck in here by myself, hmm? That would be unfortunate.”

It was supposed to have been a joke, something to lighten the mood between them but Bakugou’s expression remained firm as he offered no reply.

“How bad is it?”

Bakugou paused, the silence hanging heavily between them. “It’s fine, you’re gonna be fine.”

Kirishima just hummed. “You’re a terrible liar.”

Dark spots peppered his vision and he was beginning to realise how tired he felt. He knew Bakugou was fighting a losing battle.

“I’m not fucking lying, okay? You’re going to be fine.”

“It’s okay, Bakugou. Can I just ask you to do something before I die?”

“You’re not going to die, you asshole. Fat Gum is going to come for you, you know he’d never leave you here.”

The exhaustion was creeping in with the tingling sensation in his arms and legs. He was so cold. He had half a mind to ask Bakugou to set off some explosions and hopefully warm the air. But they were trapped with potentially limited oxygen and Bakugou was too smart to ever risk that. “Is he going to be fast enough? You said there was a villain, he’s probably too busy.”

“Shut up!” Bakugou snapped, his expression and tone immediately softening as the harshness registered. “You’re not dying today. Or tomorrow. Or any day that I’m alive to see. I won't let you.”

Kirishima closed his eyes, letting himself imagine what it would be like to die with Bakugou by his side. A cruel part of his chest tightened as he imagined asking Bakugou to hold him before he passed out.

The taste of blissful unconsciousness lay heavy on the back of his tongue as he spoke. “Will you stay? I don’t wanna go alone.”

“You’re not going fucking anywhere, and I’m not gonna leave you.”

“I think I’m dying, Katsu.”

Kirishima could see the way Bakugou flinched at the use of the nickname. He would have apologised for being so informal but he was tired and he didn’t have the energy to be sorry for trying to feel close to Bakugou in his last moments.

Perhaps the reaction had been to the idea of Kirishima dying, but that seemed less likely. Bakugou was persistent in reminding everyone that he didn’t care about anything or anyone other than becoming number one. Kirishima had always admired his determination but right now he just wanted to pretend that Bakugou cared about him.

Falling in love with Bakugou Katsuki was probably the dumbest decision of Kirishima’s life but he would never live to regret it. Not while Bakugou stayed with him, trying to staunch the flow of blood from a wound that was likely severe enough to render Bakugou’s efforts useless.

The older boy didn’t look at him. “You’re just delirious from the blood loss, you’ll be okay.”

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

“Because you’re fucking bleeding out!”

“Yeah,” Kirishima mumbled with the limited energy he had left, “but why is it suddenly a big deal? You've said repeatedly that you don’t care about anyone else.”

“I lied,” Bakugou hissed through his teeth, his jaw clenched with such force that Kirishima was worried the bone would shatter under the pressure.

Kirishima’s eyebrows pinched together in confusion. Well that made no sense.“Why would you lie?”

“Because I love you, goddamnit! So you’re going to stay awake and we’re going to get out of this and go on a date or some shit, but we can only do that if you stay awake, okay?”

Oh. Kirishima tried to speak, but his tongue felt like a lead weight in his mouth that he couldn’t lift no matter how hard he tried. The fog was pressing in on him much harder now.

Bakugou’s voice was muffled by the fog as he spoke again. “Fucking say something. I just confessed my feelings for you, you don’t get to fucking ignore me now.”

Kirishima was aware that he should be worried by the way it was taking more and more of his energy to keep his eyes open, but he couldn’t find the strength to care about anything other than the fact that Bakugou just said he loves him.

“Kirishima?”

“No- No, fuck, no, Kirishima you have to keep your eyes open!” Kirishima hadn’t even noticed they’d fallen shut, but he couldn’t seem to open them again, despite how much he wanted to stare into Bakugou’s red eyes forever.

Kirishima could feel something tapping on his cheek, shaking his shoulder. Bakugou’s voice was so broken and raw when he spoke his plea. “Kiri, please.”

That’s weird, Bakugou never says please.

As the last shreds of consciousness left him, Kirishima swore he could hear muffled yelling somewhere close to his head, he couldn’t make out the words.

But it didn’t hurt anymore.

-

Kirishima didn’t expect to wake up.

It was as simple as that.

He had been bleeding badly enough that Bakugou hadn’t even let him look, and had seemed genuinely worried and afraid for his friend’s wellbeing. So at that point, waking up was a feat on its own.

Waking up without being in excruciating pain was something else entirely. He just felt floaty and not real. But he definitely wasn’t dead because he was uncomfortable and the lights behind his close eyelids were way too bright.

“I would try to send you back to the dorms but I know you won’t listen to me even if I erase your quirk and drag you kicking and screaming out of here,” Aizawa’s gruff voice said from a place Kirishima couldn’t pinpoint. There was a lot of aural input that just dissolved into directionless static.

“I’m not leaving him.”

That was Bakugou’s voice, with its hard edge and underlying fire. It cut through the haze of Kirishima’s lingering unconsciousness, it didn’t have the same fuzzy edge to the syllables that Aizawa’s voice had.

Aizawa must have clicked his tongue before speaking again in his monotonous drawl. “You need to rest too. That concussion isn’t going to go away on its own.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Bakugou bit back.

“Then, pray tell, what matters more than your health?”

“He does.”

He wanted to fight against the stupor, to reach out and smack Bakugou upside the head. His friend was concussed, and chose not to rest, in favour of keeping a bedside vigil. At this point, it was the only thing that was convincing Kirishima that he didn’t hallucinate what Bakugou said before he passed out.

Not that it made much sense.

“Kirishima would want you to take care of yourself.” Kirishima is going to shake Aizawa’s hand the second he can muster up the energy to do so.

“Kirishima also wanted to die of blood loss and traumatise me instead of just staying awake, so I’m not going to listen to what that asshole wants.”

“You know as well as I do that the doctor said he probably won’t be coherent until tomorrow morning even if he does wake up tonight. I can drive you back to the dorm and pick you up before visiting hours.”

Kirishima could practically hear Bakugou shaking his head. “I’m not leaving him alone.”

“He won’t be alone. Fat Gum and I will be here all night.”

Bakugou’s next words were haunted, hollowed out to fit an emotion Kirishima had never heard from the older boy. “He asked me to stay with him.”

“And you did, you saved his life,” a third voice added. Kirishima was cognizant enough to be able to recognise it as being his mentor.

“Go to bed, Bakugou,” Kirishima mumbled, scrunching his eyes up tightly as consciousness fully came back to him. He wished someone would turn the light off.

“Kirishima?” There was too much noise in that moment for Kirishima to figure out who had spoken, but he suspected that all of them had something to say about his return to wakefulness.

He tried to lift his hand, hoping to cover his eyes from the bright lights of what was undoubtedly a hospital room, only to find it pinned in place.

Opening his eyes to the onslaught of light revealed that his hand was being firmly held in Bakugou’s. Okay, forget his previous claims, he was definitely dead. Or, at the very least, having the best dream of his life.

Kirishima groaned. “You guys are loud.”

“Sorry, kid,” Aizawa said in his usual grumble. His chair was the furthest away from Kirishima, sitting all the way in the corner of the room. He looked the same amount of disheveled as he usually did but his posture held a weird tension that Kirishima wasn’t sure he had ever seen before.

“How are you feeling?” Fat Gum asked, he was out of his hero suit which, to Kirishima, looked very odd.

“Pretty okay, all things considered,” Kirishima said, directing his gaze towards his friend.

Bakugou was the most noticeably different. His hair was scruffy and matted with blood, a stark white rectangle of gauze taped to his forehead, a few little strips holding a cut on his eyebrow together. He didn’t speak, but he didn’t let go of Kirishima’s hand either.

Feeling particularly spontaneous, probably due to the bucket full of pain meds that were undoubtedly currently in his system, Kirishima gave Bakugou’s hand an experimental squeeze.

Bakugou stiffened but the tension quickly left his body as he squeezed back, turning to meet Kirishima’s eyes and give him a soft smile.

Their exchange was silent but they said all they needed to.

I heard you.

I love you too.

Kirishima tried to adjust himself, to get a better look at Bakugou’s injuries. Only to promptly collapse back onto the hospital bed as pain blasted through all of his senses.

“Idiot,” Bakugou hissed.

“Take it easy,” Fat Gum said, “you were in surgery for a long time, you don’t need to be pushing yourself.”

Still trying to breathe through the pain, Kirishima opened one eye to look at the pro hero.

“Surgery?” he managed to grit out from between his clenched teeth.

Fat Gum’s eyes softened as he looked at his mentee. “We found you both not long after you lost consciousness, but you were in rough shape. You’re going to need to take it easy for a while.”

Kirishima groaned. “That sounds boring.”

“Not as boring as an extended recovery period because you refused to take care of yourself,” Aizawa chided.

“True,” Kirishima said. “What time is it?”

Fat Gum was the one to speak this time. Bakugou stayed remarkably silent. “A little past midnight, you spent six hours in surgery and we’ve been waiting for you to wake up for about two hours now.”

“And Bakugou isn’t in bed?”

“Nope. We tried but he won’t budge. Better to let it happen at this point.”

Kirishima rolled his head to the other side, narrowing his eyes at Bakugou and the older boy’s stony expression. “Go to sleep.”

Bakugou met his gaze with his usual stubborn fire. “You first.”

“If you stay, will you sleep?”

Bakugou nodded.

“Aizawa-sensei, can he stay?”

Kirishima had expected Aizawa to argue, but he was just met with a soft “okay”.

Whether it was the cocktail of medication or the trauma his body had suffered, tiredness hit Kirishima like a wave. As his blinking slowed down, he swore he saw a soft smile grace Bakugou’s lips before his other hand reached up to brush Kirishima’s hair out of his face.

“Goodnight, Kirishima.”

Kirishima just hummed, too tired to speak.

-

Kirishima woke up the next morning with Bakugou wrapped around his arm that was free of tubes and wires, snoring softly.

Carefully picking up his other hand and ignoring the presence of the IV in the crook of his elbow, he began to thread his fingers through Bakugou’s messy hair. The older boy didn’t stir, a true testament to how exhausted he really was, especially considering on any other day Kirishima could breathe sideways and Bakugou would all but leap to his feet.

Instead, Bakugou’s hold just tightened slightly as he mumbled something in his sleep.

A quick glance around the room told Kirishima that Aizawa was asleep in his chair in the corner, his face buried in his capture scarf, surprisingly sans his usual yellow sleeping bag. Fat Gum was nowhere to be seen but judging by the empty chair with a blanket on the seat and jacket draped over the back, he couldn’t be far away.

There was a weird bliss to the quiet atmosphere of the hospital room. The soft morning light filtered in through the window as opposed to the harsh lights of the night before.

The pain meds took away from the discomfort of being in a hospital, and with Bakugou clinging to him like he was the most important thing in the world was something Kirishima could easily be convinced was a dream, a fantasy conjured by his unconscious mind.

He could get used to this.