#not articulating myself well but something in my brain is screaming right now

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

Some midnights, you’re out and you’re buzzing with electric current — an adventurer in pursuit of rapturous thrill. Music blaring from speakers and the reckless intimacy of dancing with strangers. Something in this shadowy room to make you feel shiny again. On these nights, you know that there are facets of you that only glow in the dark.

It’s giving, “Best believe I’m still bejeweled, when I walk in the room, I can still make the whole place shimmer, and when I meet the band they ask ‘do you have a man’ and I can still say ‘I don’t remember.’” It also gives, “I bent the truth too far tonight, I was dancing around it.” It’s, “Do you really want to know where I was April 29th?”

But. BUT. BUT!!!!!

it also gives: “I washed my hands of us at the club, you made a mess of me. I pictured you with other girls in love and threw up on the street.” It’s “I slur your name 'til someone puts me in a car, I stopped receiving invitations.”

it’s “don’t you ignore me, I’m the best thing at this party.”

On these nights, you know that there are facets of you that only glow in the dark.

this part is reaaaaaaaaaaally sitting with me right now. It’s now part of you is desperate to shine but only when no one is watching. Or dimming it when everyone is watching.

it’s… a lot.

[whitherwordswither]

00: Wrapped Up For Your Safety

Relax.

It was a simple, singular word. But I felt it reverberate throughout my entire being. It brought with it feelings of comfort and warmth, and as much as it sang soothingly to the soul, it also requested obedience. And I did not want to comply.

My body was immobilized, held down and in place by what felt like a thousand soft wires. Undulating. Squeezing. Massaging every muscle that was in contact. Every nerve screamed out in such uncertainty, fluctuating and unable to choose an appropriate response. Fight, flight, or fold. I wanted to yell, to cry, to curse, to beg. The vines held loose around my mouth, not tight enough to cause any discomfort, but there were enough to muffle my protests. I stared helplessly up in to the bright, shimmering eyes of a creature that by all standard human logic... should not have existed.

One by one more words filtered through the jumbled static of my brain, penetrating the stubborn walls of my own subconscious. And I was letting them in, a betrayer unto myself.

Breathe with me, little human. In. Out. In. Out.

There you go. Just like that. You're safe. No harm will come to you.

Relax. I am here now.

I felt my resolve crumbling, washing away, bathed in the lapping of gentle waves. I was the shore. And this impossible organism was the sea. Endless. Encompassing. My body went limp in the comforting cocoon of foliage. The face above me shifted, the briefest flash of too many teeth, like tiny spines. I blinked, trying to move my head, to shake the sight away like an Etch-a-Sketch. When I looked again that mouth was set in a tender smile. Inviting. I slowly lost myself in those vibrant eyes, pulled inward in to a swirling void of untethered relief.

You've had such a terribly long day and you've earned your rest.

Do not worry. I will not leave your side. You are safe.

Promises of security and well-being whispered through my vessel. I swear I saw a colorful little flower zip passed my peripheral then felt a faint pinprick against my neck. The vines began to unravel from the lower half of my face, my mouth opening to take a breath on instinct despite having been able to breathe perfectly fine. I moved my lips, or felt them moving, articulating words that my vocal cords refused to enunciate. The world started to dim. First the edges, then spreading in until all I could see was the creature's face.

Sleep now, my little darling~

And dream sweetly~

An intense loving warmth engulfed me and I had no will left to push against it. I no longer had the strength... or the want. A languid smile spread across my face as my eyes began to flutter closed. That's right. I could relax. I was safe. Something at the far edges of my dissolving consciousness registered more shifting, movement. My body was being carried and I couldn't have cared less to where. I could finally sleep.

I let the warmth and darkness smother my senses, like a leaf in the draw of a gentle stream.

...

That was the first day I met an Affini face to face. The first day I met Trimixthis. And the first day that my life began to feel like it really had a purpose... even if that purpose was artificially fabricated.

[imaginarylungfish]

AUDHD 👏 GOJO 👏

I’m right there with you so, in true AuDHD style, I’m zooming into your inbox to infodump because I’m ALWAYS desperate to scream about this (shout out to @ellionwrites for patiently and compassionately listening to my unpolished rambles about a lot of this stuff in private)!

I actually have a LOT of thoughts about 236 and how it’s Gojo’s “unmasking”. That chapter is really emotional for me because of how well it articulates my personal experience of navigating the world as an autistic person. This post (and especially its tags) from right after it came out says it in a much more concise way, but Gojo’s upset pout breaks my heart because, to me, that's evidence of “no matter how much you try, people will misunderstand you” and damn… that hits a little close to home 🥲

It’s why his death had such a strong impact on me, especially when it felt like half the internet was ignoring the actual words Gojo said to claim “he never cared about that stuff, he was arrogant from the start and you just misread him". In combination with “it was the best ending for a character like Gojo" — right after we find out how deeply lonely he’s been, never able to truly connect with anyone after Geto left? Well, it was mindblowingly meta and, therefore, pretty painful to read.

I wrote an analysis of Gojo’s character in 236 and, even though I wasn’t viewing him through an autistic lens for that particular post, I think my words under the cut still read that way — that’s how baked into his character I think this stuff is! I genuinely think the two pairs of sorcerers sitting with their backs to each other is a visual representation of the double empathy problem. I'm not sure autistic and allistic people can ever arrive at a place where we fully understand each other, but that doesn’t mean autistic people have to carry all the burden and remain isolated. That’s why it’s meaningful that Gege makes it clear that all the characters care about each other, even if they don’t see eye-to-eye.

Glad to see you shouting about this reading of his character, because I haven’t seen many people talking about it. Some people are very hostile to ND headcanons, especially for characters as popular as Gojo, which is why I haven’t really talked about it much myself. However, I feel like any fellow AuDHDers who read my fic must be side-eying me constantly because I don’t think I’m subtle about how I write Gojo’s character at ALL 🤪

Maybe it’s time to be brave and publicly share my 236 AuDHD!Gojo manifesto for the five of us who are standing in a circle screaming about this! Cheering you on and sending lots of love ♥️

Ahhhhh thank you so much for this infodump!!!! I was on a AuDHD!Gojo rampage last night as my brain worm hit right as I should have been going to sleep. But such are things....

Like idk why it didn't truly hit me until now, but I can't unseen Gojo as AuDHD. (It was probably because I re-watched "Everything's Gonna be Okay" with some AuDHD representation and then I started thinking of other AuDHD characters and immediately thought of Gojo.) I did play with the idea a few months back, but it hit me with full force yesterday.

Idk like I get a little annoyed with people who think I or others like Gojo just because "he's hot" because like okay fine yes (but also I think I just have gender envy but that's a whole other can of worms). But also, no no no that's not it! My love for Gojo is more than that! He speaks to me as a character. He's misunderstood. He's seen as something he isn't. In my eyes, he's neurodivergent (and queer). And Geto was the only other person who ever saw him for who he really was.

Gojo's death was really hard on me. I remember exactly where I was when I read that chapter. And then the airport. Fuck. EmOtIOns. At first, I tried understanding Nanami's words. I really did. But really, I just didn't if I'm honest. Those words were a shock to me. Like yeah okay he's selfish (but like aren't all humans?). He also helps though! Isn't that obvious? And at the end? He wanted to have an equal to go all out with in a fight. Again, why was that bad? He was also helping! What's the issue? He's a fallible human. Like you said in your analysis, he contains multitudes. What's wrong with that?

So, like many others, I thought maybe I misread Gojo. But no. Now I think the missing piece was that Gojo is AuDHD and Nanami didn't quite get that. He didn't understand Gojo's actions. (And ahh god that lil pout. Gojo was just living his life and people saw him but they never ~saw~ him.)

I think the visual of the sorcerers back-to-back is a great metaphor for the double empathy problem. I never saw it that way, but I see it now and like it! And I think you're so right with the fact that the characters still respect and support each other even if they don't understand each other fully. I think that's a theme woven throughout the story.

Blahhh I feel like there is so much textual support for AuDHD Gojo. Like him being blindsided by Geto's defection because he didn't see Geto's decline (and don't get me started about Autistic!Geto with his strict black-and-white thinking), him just blabbing about sweets when he meets up with Megumi before fighting one-finger Sukuna at the beginning, the fact he thought revealing Yuuji to his classmates at the exchange event would be funny (cause hey, I thought it would too until it happened and I saw oh hey, it wasn't), etc. Plus, his blindfold. His overall personality. Like, it's such a heavy mask. Now I see that.

I feel like people either love Gojo or they hate him. (I immediately gobbled up your analysis and 100% agree. And I think people's reactions to his death are pretty telling.)

So, thank you for the yummy AuDHD!Gojo content. Please feel free to send me more/link me to things. I feel like I have a million more things to say but my brain is jumping all over the place and I've already spent 40 minutes this morning on this when I should have been getting ready for work. Hehe, whoops.

Gojo is AuDHD. I will die on this hill. Let's keep staring and screaming at each other about this. Sending you good vibes and love as well 🤍

[perexcri]

to hell and back again now exists as a physical object!

(cat for size comparison )

hello hello!! i’m here for an official post to brag about @chubsonthemoon, a dear and lovely friend/hamster/beautiful fic writer and binder/Sandman zine contributor(!!!) who recently bound To Hell and Back Again as a present 💜

chubs is a dear irl friend and is (as i said in my final a/n for thaba) quite literally the only reason i ever started reading or writing fic in the first place. we’ve become good friends over the past couple of years, and i’ve loved being able to embrace these aspects of fandom that i never allowed myself to when i was younger (for many reasons, but that’s another story), and it’s really all thanks to them.

so without further ado, here are some pics of their lovely work!! they’re going to be making their own post about it later, so i’ll be reblogging that here and linking to it in this post as well, because they’ll have far more cool details to explain about the actual binding process than i could never articulate (they literally sent me a full video explaining so many things and i responded with something to the effect of “and the way you did that binding thing - i think you said it was German??” and “wOAh tHE edgEs”, so).

so, first of all: the covers!! @byierficrecs​ was very kind to make such a lovely graphic for this fic, and he was especially kind to let chubs use it for the actual cover!! i know most people in the fandom seem to already know about Angel and the lovely work he does, but if you haven’t checked out his work, please go give it some love~ (the original thaba graphic can be found here!!)

the spine, with chubs’ lovely little maker’s mark :D

(and if i rearranged my bookshelf just so i could put it between all of my R. F. Kuang books then that is my business alone)

and tHE EDGES?? i kind of blacked out after i opened the package today so i didn’t notice until about 10 minutes afterwards that they had continued the vines from the graphic onto the edges?? chubs i know i already screamed at you in private but now i get to do it on a public platform so please know i am still freaking out about this

art!! look at the lovely art!! thanks again to @starsarefire824​ and @itssstarry​ for your lovely work!! i love getting to stare at these pieces regardless, but now i get to hold them in an actual physical form and stare at them heheheh. posts to show them support and/or links to find their work can be found here (for @starsarefire824​) and here (for @itssstarry​)!!

and finally, here’s it opened to my favorite chapter!! just if anybody wants to see the typsetting :D

thanks again to everybody who contributed to this!! like, yeah, i wrote it, but @chubsonthemoon​ bound it, and @byierficrecs​ designed the cover, and @starsarefire824​ and @itssstarry​ contributed art? idk my brain’s being broken tonight over the fact that people can live in completely different places and all contribute to this thing that now takes up physical space on my bookshelf. i can’t really use my words right now, so here’s a poorly-made meme to express my thoughts instead:

and especially thanks to you, chubs!! again, you are a wonderful friend, and i’m glad we got to meet each other 💜 bonding over Chris Fleming videos and our shared connections (i’m thinking of cats and giraffes, ofc) has led to some wonderful memories. Louie says hello, btw!! she was sniffing your handiwork very intently heheheh :] 💜💜💜

anyways, i hope you guys enjoy the pics!! please send your love to all the wonderful people who made this possible~

(also!! i would encourage you guys to read chubs’ fanbinding commissions statement, just in case you have any questions, or reach out to them if you want to scream about their amazing work or have questions~)

chubs’ post can be found here!!

[alycat93666]

Quick snippet shot because I've seen the movie three times now and it's so good! My brain rot latched on to the fac that Vol. 3 kept saying Rocket was Peter's best friend when, they weren't? They were a bunch of jackasses standing in a circle, they were all friends with each other, Groot and Rocket especially.

So then, I decided to write this to appease myself because now I do want to see more of them being besties instead of having constant ship measuring contests.

Another Cell:

"That OrgoCorp ship we picked up hasn't shown much bounty yet," Kraglin said in disappointment as they tore it apart. "We probably caught it going out to pick up a delivery."

"So what are we to do with this?" Taserface asked, the hungry look in his eyes answer already. If he wasn't the most thickheaded crew member aboard, his hand and wrist would have been bitten off already from the only thing they'd yet found. Some kind of varmint that was screaming and twisting in place. It seemed to be making up cuss's on the spot as the claws and teeth tried desperately to be free from whatever fur wasn't singed or modified around its neck.

Yondu had half a mind to let it go and see what chaos it would cause aboard his ship, the little thing had spirit.

He might have some use for that.

"Go give it to Quill," he smirked.

Taserface grunted in disappointment, but went off still licking his lips. Probably in hopes there would be a dual appetizer in sight.

"You, ah, really think that's the best idea captain?" Kraglin scratched at his neck as the animal began articulating even more threats about what he'd do to all of them starting with their entrails. "Pete's still adjusting to being aboard himself."

"Exactly," Yondu shoved him aside and plucked a shiny bit of the cockpit's thoroughly dismantled rigging up to hold it in the light, wondering if its value was worth hocking or if he could shave off a few edges and put it on his dash. "Either the boy will eat it, or it'll eat him. Either way, they'll both stay out from under my feet for a bit while they figure it out."

...

Rocket had already stolen seven trinkets off his captor including the zipper from his pants by the time he was thrown bodily into a room.

The door slammed shut before he'd even peeled himself off the floor, but he jumped to his feet still mentally mapping his path here and how to get back to where they'd taken him in. He'd seen plenty of other ships and pods he could escape from, he would not be anybody's test subject again.

His eyes adjusted quickly, and he saw he was not their only captor.

Some bald body was huddled up in the corner, a weirdly pale looking creature that had noise vibrations coming from his ears as he glared resentfully right back at Rocket and kept something tight in his hands. Maybe his life pack. What did he care.

Still, he might be a threat, so Rocket began edging back to the door without taking his eyes off the ones tracking him. Then Rocket saw the blood.

It was all over the flappy, loose linen he was wrapped up in. The rest of his skin was mottled black and blue.

Rocket hesitated, but when the creature made no threatening move towards him, and he well knew that hurt, fearful look in those strange eyes that could lash out, he turned his back and began investigating the door.

It was no good, no lock, no seals, nothing.

He turned back and put his hands on his hips, trying to look bigger. Even all scrunched up, this creature was still bigger than him. He couldn't look weak now.

"Well, what's your name?" He barked.

"Hurts," the boy grunted.

Rocket felt it, the feeling he'd been trying to suppress since he'd laid eyes on him. His heart melting. He'd tried so hard to convince himself in that ship he wouldn't ever have to care about friends again, and yet that sounded far to familiar.

Then the kid plucked something out of his ear, the odd, low noise had just a little more garble to it now as it dangled in place and he gave Rocket another once over. "What? What did you say?"

Rocket sighed, picked up a bit of cloth on his way as he padded over, and began licking at it. As he got in arms reach, he slowly, gently leaned forward, and pressed it to the welt on his wrist.

The boy flinched, but didn't push him away. Tears began pooling in his eyes instead as he watched him just as wearily back. "Are you, real?"

"Sure am," Rocket assured. His ear ticked, he was watching the little dangly bit wondering if it was supposed to go back in.

"A talking racoon," he scoffed, but sniffled as Rocket licked at the cloth again and moved onto a dried bit of blood over a fresh, sensitive scab. "Space really does have everything."

"What's a racoon?" Rocket asked wearily, it didn't sound like he was being thanked.

"It's what you are, stupid," the boy snapped.

"Ain't nothing like me," Rocket bristled and pulled his cloth back, sitting down on the, on the floor, and, oh gods he would not cry. He was done crying.

"Yes you are," the kid insisted with a stubborn set to his lip. "Except, you talk."

"Thanks, genius, we've established that," Rocket scoffed. "What's your name," he asked again.

Silence, except the faint noise dulling off for a moment. Silence, and then it began again except somehow different. The boy took a breath, and said, "Peter Quill. Why did Yondu put you in here?"

"What's a Yondu?" Rocket asked back. "I was scooped up by a bunch of flargin jerks who dropped me in here."

"Oh," Peter sniffed and brushed his face off on his ratty clothes all these strange creatures here wore.

"Listen, I'm busting out of here," Rocket said with confidence. "When I do, you, you need to run for it too." Somewhere not with him though. Anywhere he wasn't.

"I got no where to go," Peter said dully. "Yondu said I had to start showing my worth or the crew was going to eat me. They'd been sending me out to steal stuff, but, I keep getting hurt. I guess you're my replacement." His voice went sharp, mean, lashing out. "Bet you'll be worse at it, the only thing you can steal is garbage!"

Rocket watched the color rise in his face, he knew that feeing all to well. Peter should get to rip Yondu's face off if he wanted to.

"What's that?" Rocket asked quietly of the thing Peter had been clutching as his lifeline this whole time.

Peter sniffled again and held it even tighter, there was an ominous cracking noise. Then he exhaled and coughed, and said, "it, it's mine. My mom gave it to me!" He sounded even younger without the bite in his voice.

"What's a mom?" Rocket asked.

Rocket watched the pain show on Peter's face, the kind that couldn't be covered up with bruises and scraps.

Peter didn't answer. Instead, he held out the little bud that had been in his ear.

Rocket took it and held it curiously closer, and finally heard the noise proper.

It was nothing like what had been on the High Revolutionary's ship. He didn't know how to explain the feeling it gave him, but he found himself smiling at Peter, who was smiling back cautiously.

Peter waited until it was over and the slight pause in the air before he asked quietly, "what's your name?"

Rocket didn't want to tell him. He had to be thinking of ways to get off this ship.

If he told him, Peter Quill would probably die too.

The music caught, and began playing an even stranger noise than before. He decided he liked this one even better than the last. He knew what feeling it gave him. Hope.

"Rocket," he answered, scooting a little closer.

/an/

and then they proceeded to cause Yondu nothing but chaos until they departed in Vol. 1, lol.

If I come up with any concrete ideas I might add another chapter about Peter, Rocket, and Yondu actually bonding, something I've wondered about for years but never as anything more than vague ideas.

[justmybookthots]

Crooked Kingdom

5/5 stars

I finished this in one whole day. This is a BIG book, and it took me hours and hours of non-stop reading from morning to night to get it done. 

This book is a masterpiece. Usually, I can be kind of sceptical about books this size, because they might drag, but Crooked Kingdom’s length really helped wrap up a lot of loose threads for each of the Crows. And oh my gosh, but this book really blew Six of Crows out of water for me. See, I liked Six of Crows, but I wasn’t in love with it. 

But this. This. 

There was no major heist (save for the safe, I think), and I actually was fine with it! If anything, I liked it more! One of my biggest (and personal) issues with the original heist was that it was so setting-heavy that my brain was dying. But in this book, there really isn’t as much setting involved, and I LOVE mind-games and scheming so this was everythingggggggg.

Kaz is officially one of my book loves, my book boyfriends, as Booktok would say. Usually, he’s not my type because he’s too abrasive, too callous, and I like guys who are more emotionally intelligent—but here’s the thing, he isn’t emotionally unintelligent. Not entirely. He just chooses to be a dick half the time—and he can put up a hell of a show playing a different persona if he wanted to—but it doesn’t matter because he’s a fucking genius, and everyone knows that. Every single time they did something I didn’t understand, I was like, ‘never mind, I’ll wait,’ and LO AND BEHOLD, the shoe drops in a later chapter and everything earlier makes sense. There is always a shoe dropping. The plan is never straightforward. This is a devious Kaz’s world, and we are just living in it.

Also, I was just fucking wheezing with delight when Jan Van Eck's kid caught him breaking in and he handled the situation so... so......... I can't even articulate myself. It was so good. And how he handled Jan right after he left the house was fucking PERFECTION.

I LOVE clever characters, and Kaz is single-handedly the smartest literary character I’ve read (or rather, not the smartest, but the one whose brains are actually shown rather than told the most). I adore him. I breathe him. I want to lick his shoes. I want to listen to his mordant wit and soak in its barbs. Also, when he kissed Inej’s neck, I was SCREAMING. SCREAMING!!!!!!!

I know a lot of people weren’t happy with the ending, so I went into Crooked Kingdom slightly apprehensively, worried about how it’ll conclude. 

I needn’t have worried. The ending was good!!! Excellent, even. I really am confused about what people were so hung up about. It was everything, from Wylan getting his house and money back from his father, Jan arrested, Jesper getting closure with his dad and himself, Wylan and Jesper being in love and living together, KAZ FINDING INEJ AND THEIR FINGERS TOUCHING AND HIM BRINGING HER FUCKING PARENTS BACK, Pekka gone for good?? What more do they want????????

This is the wonderful, quintessential Crows ending. Okay, fine, I noticed that I didn’t mention Nina and Matthias, but, uh….

I don’t really care about them.

Look. I’m sorry to their fans, if they exist. I am sure they do. But I couldn't care less. Also Matthias’s death was so random, like everything was going fine, and some guy from his country pops up and shoots him and I was like, huh? Okay?

Ah, well. You see, a major annoyance I had with Crooked Kingdom was that everything was so good… until it was time for Matthias or Nina’s chapters. Nina, maybe not so much (it was only irritating because it meant I’d have to read about her budding romance with him), but Matthias’ chapters made my eyes glaze over. He is definitely less annoying than in the prequel, but I still found myself scrambling for fucks to give and coming up empty.

Now, back to the Crows I cared for:

Wylan!!!!!!!!!MY WYLAN. MY BOY. MY HEART AND JOY. When Jesper was kissing Kuwei (thinking it was Wylan), I was like: why is Wylan grinning? This isn’t Kuwei, is it? And OH BOY WAS I RIGHT. I loved that this happened, that it pushed a jealous Wylan to try to get his face back because I missed his original face so much. I love his reddish curls, his wide blue eyes, everything!! And when he shared his first kiss with Jesper—he initiated it!! He did!!! He told a jumpy Jesper to stay still and then KISSED him—I jumped up and squealed like a little bitch. Ah!!!!!!!!! I don’t care what anyone says. Wylan has more balls than anyone expects and he is literally taking care of Jesper financially at the end because he is a baby boy boss. 

I did like Jesper’s story a lot, and I found it cool that he was a good marksman because he was a Fabrikator. I can’t say I love Jesper as a character that much, but he was still much more entertaining than Matthias because he’s so fucking funny. In fact, this entire book made me laugh out loud at certain parts—which is rare, because I’m beginning to realise that a lot of the fantasies I’ve read aren’t so funny. 

Like, look at this:

By the way, even this innocuous little piece of banter had a purpose later. That’s how ingenious this story is. 

Gah, I can’t take it. I have not spoken about Inej yet, but make no mistake; I love her to bits—she’s such a self-respecting queen. Like, she is not here to fix anyone, to be fucking Bob the Builder like fucking Evangeline from OUABH. This is exactly what she thinks: 

Inej, you are a fucking queen. You are everything. You have a giant heart, yet you know your worth, and you are a badass, yet you are not invulnerable, and you are just *chef’s kiss*. 

Fuck, this is definitely going to be one of my favourite books of all time. I love the Crows so much (well, most of them). I’m nursing a hell of a hangover and I don’t know how I can go back to other fantasy books without missing the hell out of them—and comparing male leads to Kaz without them coming up short. (Of course, there are exceptions like my boy in Cruel Prince but that's because I am biased. By the way... Jude and Kaz, if they ruled a kingdom together? Sheer chaos.)

Is this a perfect book? No. I skimmed certain parts like some of Nina and Matthias’ chapters, and I’m still not sure how to feel about the sugar scheme being abandoned completely. Also, colour me a sadist, but I was slightly disappointed Inej came out totally unharmed from the kidnapping. I think the tongue-ripping in The Stolen Heir really set my expectations too high, lol. Another thing - Mathias suddenly being brainy with Jesper and Kuwei when he was a stupid oaf in the first book had me confused, too. Him being "military" isn't really strong enough of an explanation for me.

Regardless, the story hit so many spots for me, and I’m happy that I finally got to this so wildly acclaimed series and enjoyed what it had to offer.

Better late than never, as they say. 

- 27 July 2023

[liathgray]

Hi, I just wanted to scream at you for how amazing your writing is!!! It should be illegal for it to be this good! I read your fma a hop, skip, and a jump away series a couple of months ago (which i finished in about 3 days) and immediately bookmarked it and I'm still thinking about it months later! Its taking everything in me not to reread it again so soon, I'm serious! It lives in my head rent free these days. I have also read your fma an incomplete guide to parenting a couple days ago and I literally just finished your fma giants in the forest, but I had no idea it was you who wrote it until I finished the story and was looking through your previous works, then it all started to add up, which lead me here because I just love your writing so much and I had to let you know! You hit all of the characters right on the nose, they don't feel written, the feel like they're real breathing, talking, people. I feel like I'm watching this happen in real time, or like I'm watching a movie just because your writing makes everything feel so alive and smooth! I'm impressed with the banter between Roy and Ed, it just felt to realistic and natural (and quite funny too). It felt like you had a lot of fun writing giants in the forest, and I know it was a lot of fun (and heartache and pain and suffering) reading it! Now that I have found your other works, I am going to have go find out some way to pace myself so I don't repeatedly stab myself with amazingly well written angst and pain. Thank you so much for sharing your writing! You are amazing!! If I could, I'd give you infinity Kudos <33

AAAAAAA A AAAAAAAAAAA

Dude i dont even know what to say like thank you??? I’m so so glad that my fics have been able to connect with you that much holy wow

Character writing is something i alway agonize over but am ultimately pretty proud of/ i think im good at it so its. Very nice to know its enjoyed. To know like ppl NOTICE the details and different voices gaghjhgdh makes my brain go brrr

Its been a while since I wrote Giants in the Forest but I remember having an absolutely BLAST writing the dialogue with Ed and Roy because their dynamic of “i hate you so much youre so annoying but also I trust you” is just so fun ur honour theyre both the worst

Im just babbling rn i guess im trying to say thanks too many words cause i wanna articulate how sweet this is to hear. Youre a gem my dude thank you

[rainydawgradioblog]

the greatest love SONGS known to man

Singer/songwriter Adrianne Lenker, lead singer of the band Big Thief, has blessed us with quite possibly the greatest love songs known to man through her 2020 solo project album literally entitled 'songs' . most of you have probably heard the song ‘Anything’ on TikTok, or at least those who are on the side of TikTok I’m on, and I’m happily here to inform you there’s more where that came from! Adrianne sings about magic, nostalgia, loss, vulnerability, the universe, and, of course, love. she articulates all of our feelings much better than you ever could, trust me! so here are my two cents on each of the songs on songs, which I hope convince you to love her just as much as I do, or at least give the album a listen. without further ado, songs, by Adrianne Lenker! The Greeks had Plato, we have her. 

two reverse: the most beautiful opening song - it is an unapologetic declaration of deep, all-consuming love that sets the tone for the rest of the album. the guitar and her voice of course are wonderful as well, overall just gets you so excited for what’s to come. who is Grandmother Juniper and where is her recipe?

ingydar: tickles my brain like no other. her little harmonies with herself? so good. every time I listen I have to relisten because it scratches something up there. the lyricism in this one I think is particularly good; everything eats and is eaten? poetic. this song just continues to explore themes of wishing everything that was temporary could stay a little longer and longing for it when it’s gone. the sentimental audience will love this one.

anything: what even needs to be said about this song - there is a reason it is her most popular solo project song. words cannot even do it justice! it’s such a soft song yet I find myself wanting to scream it every time in plays. this song I think is the accumulation of every good element of the album put into one; calming melody, lovely guitar, insane lyricism. how does she so perfectly articulate the impermanence of love itself? dragon in the new warm mountain didn’t you believe in me? this one seriously can’t be beat. I’ve never listened to it and not played it over again. shoutout the little ‘woo’ at the end. 

forwards beckon rebound: this song feels very Adrianne and feels a little like an homage to some of her older solo projects. it’s towards the middle of the album and definitely more somber than the songs that precede it, so if you’re into that, awesome. 

heavy focus: i listen to this one and i wonder why i am not around a campfire playing it right now. it’s one of the more folksy ones on the album and feels very reminiscent of ambiguous old times, almost a post-loss song, hence why it belongs to campfires and old summer nights. it’ll make you shed a tear, or at least it does for me. 

half return: Adrianne has a very special talent on romanticizing the mundane. this one similarly feels very reminiscent on old times, not even necessarily positive old times. yet somehow she sings about that rusty swing set in Minneapolis and i want to go to it? i love it. 

come: the guitar for so long at the beginning - we’re building up to maybe the most heart-wrenching song on the album. and her vocals coming it at the beginning, like come on. it’s slow, it’s lovely, and it hurts so much. it is the perfect song in the middle of the album to just bring you to tears; in an album about love and reminiscing and impermanence she includes this ballad of death, of the fear, of the cold. it’s a song about loss yet there’s such a deep love here that you feel throughout that Adrianne captures so perfectly, shows exactly why she’s so great at what she does. the guitar fading out at the end. brava. 

zombie girl: innocent, sweet, wholesome. this one captures the feeling of new love, of the feeling of it being totally encapsulating, and scary, and the initial curiosity and excitement of getting to know a new person, almost before life gets in the way. the birds are also a nice touch. 

not a lot, just forever: Adrianne’s magnum opus. are you kidding? this song is everything. the entire album Adrianne sings about how things just pass and this song just talks about how deeply you want to hold onto that love. to hold on to everything. it is the greatest acceptance and painful song about losing, about loving so deeply you wish it could be permanent. you want to intertwine yourself with another person in hopes they’ll stay with you forever. it hurts. it hurts so badly. how easy it could be to stay here forever. the ups and downs of love, the poison, the longing, the earthly paradise another person can feel like. not a lot, just forever. i cry. 

dragon eyes: this is song is what being in love feels like. the longing to just want to be recognized by another person. it’s as if she perfectly articulates the beauty of simple pleasures of another person. the transformative powers of love? it’s just so lovely. this is how i feel, i always end up listening to it again. also, the guitar is particularly good in this one. 

my angel: the ending credits to songs. amazing. enticing. tear jerking. beautiful. it would only make sense for the album to end so softly. i love how she’s used the entire album to talk about her love in comparison to the natural elements all around her, the sparrows, the wind, the dragons. however, the person she loves is an angel. a mythical creature sent by something higher, that’s what this song is about. she concludes the album with the comparison to the heavens. How could love be a force that can be explained by anything on earth? it feels so much greater. once again, i’m a fan. 

that's all! thanks for reading! go take a listen!

xoxo,

gabi

[sitp-recs]

(Perfect artwork for Modern Love, by @cambiodipolvere)

Today is the day of one of my favorite people! And I totally resent @tackytigerfic and Starry for almost sharing the same birthday, god the STRESS 😂 Tacky is my first and closest fandom friend. We clicked together so fast and easy that sometimes it feels like I’ve known her all my life, like we’re two dog moms living in the same neighborhood who happen to read fic in their free time. Despite our conflicting time zones and crazy schedules we manage to chat every other day, tagging and sending each other all kinds of stuff, coming together to cry scream about a brilliant fic we’ve just read or shaking our heads in embarrassment at every other unnecessary bullshit post. Tacky’s bright and wise energy uplifts my spirit even on my moody days, and makes me grateful for her friendship and for this fandom life. Okay so this got long and I had to put the rest under the cut:

It’s such a lovely and precious thing, to have someone with whom you can share every single thought that crosses your mind, your scariest, most embarrassing, petty or disturbing idea, without fear of being shamed or judged by it. I trust Tacky with all my heart to hear me out, share a joke or a piece of advice, even on the (rare) occasions when we don’t get the same perspective - that doesn’t happen often when it comes to Drarry, as we are taste twins!

Tacky my darling, you’re such a good person, and such an incredible friend. Thank you for introducing me to this lovely community, for being my safe haven and your unique self, with so many qualities I admire and feel inspired by: kind, witty, earnest, wise, and so very human. I love your humour and empathy, and your chill yet no-nonsense personality; I love your talent and how articulated you are; I love your passion for Drarry, and how you let this emotion inform the way you navigate the fandom and create for it. And god, but you’ve been creating some of the most beautiful content I’ve seen in these recent years! I’m permanently in awe of your ability to write Drarry in any shape, format or length, transforming even the most ordinary moment into an extraordinary and meaningful piece of character or relationship development. You know how you mentioned yesterday that some authors change the way you feel about a ship in a deep, definitive way? Well, you are that author for me. Your works made me fall in love with M-rated contemplative romance, and also allowed me to fall in love with Harry in a way I never thought it was possible before.

Some people - myself included - got to know you through the fun and intriguing A Lick and a Promise, others through the atmospheric and sensitive Modern Love, others through your contemplative and heartbreaking short form. Each story has its merits and purpose, and all of them share a Tacky trademark: the heartkick factor! Your talent has no limits and goes across different genres and tropes, that you explore with a bold twist full of personality and heart. And even more impressive is your consistency at always raising the bar - every new fic of yours becomes an instant fave and makes me think “wow I thought Tacky couldn’t get better yet here we are”. Seeing how your writing evolves as you find your narrative voice is a beautiful and humbling experience, I feel so lucky!

I’m really grateful for being active in the fandom at this moment in time, because that allows me to read and engage with your brilliant work, and to have you as a dear friend. I can’t wait to see what comes out of your beautiful brain next. It was an impossible job choosing a single fic to rec today, so I decided to do a belated Tacky reclist! Naturally these are my personal and biased must-reads, and I urge everyone to go check these beauties right now. Feel free to include your own favorites too, and don’t forget to leave them some appreciation.

Happy happy birthday my darling Tacky! This fandom life wouldn’t be the same without you. I hope you have the amazing day you deserve!

Between the Power Lines (2020, M, 3.2k)

The road trip fic you didn’t know you needed. I got utterly immersed in the heartbreaking quietness of this, feeling like a witness to an ordinary yet poignant love story. Such tender intimacy, such character development, such lovely American aesthetics with barely any dialogue. This is, IMO, the fic that reveals Tacky’s triumph in storytelling.

Even the Night (2020, M, 3.4k)

This fic has a surreal atmosphere, those Midsummer vibes unbelievably sexy and intoxicating linked to the sensorial experience of fumbling together in the night. Masterclass in tension building, a silky and languid dream-like affair.

Aim for my Heart (2021, M, 3.4k) - Harry/Draco/Ron

One of the most sensitive and stunning portraits I’ve ever seen of a poly/triad relationship, this fic packs so much character and longing! It’s a privilege to watch Ron and Draco’s tentative dynamics through the smitten eyes of the one person that loves them like no one else: Harry.

The Long Fall (2021, M, 3.6k)

I can’t even write about this tender domesticity without getting a lump in my throat. Best opening scene I’ve read in years, and a refreshing way to approach both mpreg and parenthood, painfully honest and lovely. This became an immediate comfort read for me, and it’s probably one of the fics I revisit the most.

Mortal Frame (2021, M, 6.6k)

This thrilling, fast-paced spy story left me breathless since the first paragraph, gods what an immersive ride! I’m so here for Drarry on the run, sharp and urgent with danger but mellowed by the silent trust and tender intimacy only Tacky can master. Major bonus points for the brilliant take on the Horcrux hunt plot line!

Last Offices (2020, M, 6.7k)

Oh, this fic 💔 I tend to avoid MCD but there’s something so deeply fascinating about body washing rituals that I caught myself mesmerized by this. I just couldn’t put it down, so emotionally compromised I felt. There’s a sort of strange comfort in the heartbreak of doing one last act of service out of devotion to someone. This fic inspired so many difficult but lovely feelings in me, and one of them was hope. Only Tacky could possibly achieve that!

Our Little Life (2020, M, 7.2k)

Inventive and singular, this story hit me straight on the solar plexus and left me speechless as I saw the (clever, magical and bittersweet) plot unravel. Such a fabulous take on alternate universes and all the angst potential behind it. Come and bask in the yearning melancholia of a short yet intricate and perfectly executed plot.

And One to Play (2019, E, 21k)

What a fun and delightful fic, I can’t have enough of pining Harry losing all sense of propriety when faced with a hot, competent and pragmatic Draco. This has fab dynamics, unhinged protectiveness, even more unhinged attraction between two idiots who can’t keep their hands off each other. A must-read for any Auror partners fan!

A Lick and a Promise (2019, E, 55k)

Hot, BAMF Professors carefully balancing a fuck buddies situation while solving a Hogwarts mystery, do we need anything else? I certainly do not. This fic is so fun and intriguing and immersive, with amazing supportive cast and a delicious get together feat secret shagging and oblivious pining. Love it!

Modern Love (2020, E, 61k)

My favorite read of 2020, this fic is a love letter to Drarry and will always hold a piece of my soul. Sensitive, wistful, tenderly aching and so very romantic, this is a Muggle Draco triumph with a superb Harry, exquisite slow burn and a side of suds comfort. I promise it will be impossible to listen to Bowie again without thinking of this love story.

Bonus: five stunning drabbles!

Something in the Way (2021, T, 119 words)

“Up,” he said, and Draco, sick with love, raised his arms above his head and allowed Potter to slide the jumper on him, big hands stroking it flat over Draco’s stomach until they both shivered.

Stir-Up Sunday (2020, M, 300 words)

“I want you always,” he said, tugging again on the fine curling length of it. “Is it okay to say that?”

Whalebone Arch (2021, M, 722 words)

“Are you still not talking to me?” Draco steered Harry towards the crisps. “Do I have to suck you off in the loo to cheer you up?”

Semiplume (2021, T, 923 words)

“Did you know,” Harry murmured, and he put his arms around Draco, fearless. “I’d be your mate. If you needed a mate, I mean.”

Relic Radiation (2021, M, 927 words)

“You’ll kill me,” Harry said, and Draco turned his face towards the darkened sky, lunar pale, his profile some stupid unearthly thing—a flaring blazar, a supernova—in the light from the kitchen window.

[innocent-chris-evans-slut]

Panties

My Masterlist

Ransom x Reader REQUEST

Word Count: 3,3k

Type: smut with fluff ending

Summary: You’re at a family party when Ransom realizes some clothing item is missing from your body. When you get back home he makes it clear how you should wear your underwear.

Warning(s): slapping, fingering, cum play, edging, rough fucking, breeding kink (?)

“Ransom?” you felt two firm hands on your shoulders and someone gently pushing you up, “What’s going on, babe?” you sweetly smiled at him and rested both your hands on his biceps.

He didn’t pay attention to you, he rather preferred talking straight to your mothe -with who you were exchanging some words before he could interrupt you-, “I’m sorry, Mrs. Y/L/N, but we really have to go”, your mother got up and smiled at him as if it was all normal, “Dear wify, why don’t you take your coat from the cloakroom and meet me at the front door?”

You were left with no choice, but to get up and walk to the entrance. You recovered your coat and scarf and just when you went back to the living room, searching for Ransom, he showed up right next to you.

“Ready to go?” he slipped his muscular, strong arm around your waist and, not so gently, dragged you to the entrance and then you went straight to his car, parked not far away from the main door of your parents’ house. He kept walking, not paying the slightest attention as you repeatedly asked him if he was feeling good.

You knew Ransom too well by then, and you were usual to his mood swings throughout the day, but it had never happened while at your family’s. He loved your parents and they had treated him as a son since the first time you’d brought him at home. Each time, you noticed how calm and relaxed he was when staying at your childhood’s house, maybe having a chat about sport with your father, or perhaps listening carefully to your mother’s stories about your youth.

That night he was beyond furious, you realized that by his wrinkled forehead and by the way he was tightening his fingers around the steering wheel. You sat down in the passenger seat in complete silence, staring outside your window as trees and other houses passed by.

“Give me your panties.”

Ransom’s order made you both shiver and slowly turn your head towards him with a questioning look on it, “What?” it came out more like a whisper than a question, but you didn’t care since it seemed he had heard it.

“Give me your fucking panties”, your husband was losing his patience and he hoped, from the bottom of his heart, he wasn’t right. At the first red traffic light he had to stop, he stared at you waiting for an answer.

On the other end, you didn’t know what to say, because you knew he would have got so mad if only he’d known the truth. So, you did the only thing you came up with: not answering him. You kept your eyes straight in front of you and you didn’t dare to focus on anything else.

Ransom decided to play your same game; he remained silent during all the way home -the only voices filling the cabin of the car came from the radio. You weren’t hearing them at all, if anything you were trying to justify the absence of your underwear.

Why did you do it in the first place? What did you want to prove Ransom?

You had been a fool and if you could do it, you would have happily gone back in time and wear your fucking panties before the dinner with your family.

The car stopped its ride inside the private garage of your house. Ransom threw a glance at you and got out of the car, without saying a word. At first you thought of not getting out of the car -not until he was there, compelling you with his eyes only- but you quickly understood neither of you were letting it go. So you gathered your purse from the backseat and opened the car door to get out of it, meanwhile Ransom didn’t take his eye off of you neither for a second.

In complete silence, you both walked inside the house -you leading the way-, you didn’t stopped in the living room as you were usual doing, instead you got upstairs and entered your bedroom. Ransom was quickly following behind you and, as you got in the bathroom, he didn’t waste any time and walked inside, just when you were about to close the door.

“Since when do we close doors when we’re changing?” his suspicious tone and his glare froze you on the spot. He looked at you, but the more he did it, the more he understood that you wouldn’t have answered his questions. He crossed his arms over his chest and, knowing better than you that you couldn’t move him, he placed himself just in front of the wide-opened door, “What? Did you suddenly become all shy?”

There was a moment of silence, before you collected all your courage and spoke up to him: “I’m not shy. I just want my privacy”, you replied trying to sound as certain as you could.

“Your privacy? Alright, let me check one thing before I leave you your privacy”, he made a step towards you and you backed off, wanting to escape his grasp. Though you couldn’t go anywhere else because there was no more space for you to move. He wrapped his left arm around your waist and held you up against the cold marble wall and gently pressed his lips against yours, giving birth to a passionate, yet chaste kiss.

It was very different from the ones you were used to sharing with your husband, especially after an argument like the one you had in the afternoon. Your neighbors had probably heard your screams and Ransom throwing random things against the wall hundreds of meters away from your mansion.

When you felt his not-so-gentle touch brushing against your butt, you were suddenly wakening up from your thoughts and, as you understood what he was doing to you, you pushed him away from yourself.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you shouted practically in his face and forced him to take his hands off of your body, “What’s going on with you today?”

“With me?” Ransom pushed himself off the wall and kept going: “I noticed my wife not wearing any underwear at a family party and I am the one who shouldn’t be angry? Now, tell me-“ he fiercely cupped your face and made you look into his blue eyes, “-why you weren’t wearing your fucking panties?” his tone was harsh and commanding, the one you couldn’t deny had a certain effect on you -and on specific parts of your body, “I’m not asking a second time, sweetie”.

“I though you’d like it,” you said in an innocent tone, hoping he would be more indulgent with you, although you knew the damage was already done.

“On the bed, now!”

You turned your back at him and slowly made your way towards the king-sized bed in the center of the room. The mattress sank at your weight on it as you sat down in the middle of it, facing the door of the bathroom and your husband, shoulder resting against the frame of it and arms crossed over his chest.

“Handcuffs on” Ransom was well aware of the effect his orders had on you, in fact he didn’t have to get closer to state the condition you were in. Your husband knew you too well, each order of his sent a shiver to your backbone and made your pussy throbbing -though you didn’t want to show him. When you saw you fasten them around both your wrists, he slowly approached you.

You knew what your husband expected to see and, even though your tipsy brain wanted you to disobey him, your body rejected that idea. You were seated in the middle of the bed, your wrists firmly handcuffed to the headboard; you opened your legs wide, showing Ransom your wet pussy, and licked your upper lip -your gaze never moving from his face.

Ransom pulled his phone out of his trousers and took a picture of your face; “Nice smile, baby,” then he threw it away and together with it his suit, “What a pity you’ll lose it soon.”

“Wha-“ your talking was cut off by Ransom throwing something in your mouth, it was soft but still you couldn’t articulate any word -even if you tried your best.

“All I wanna hear tonight is my balls and my palms hitting your ass. Not a sound or I won’t let you cum until tomorrow morning, did I make myself clear?” once he had seen you nodding, he said: “You though I would have like it. Now I’ll show you what I really like,” Ransom unfastened his belt and with a swift motion removed it from the loops in the trousers.

Your eyes followed his movements as he folded it and held it proudly in his hand. His fingers traced the line in the middle of your torso, diverting towards your nipples and pinching them hard. You shivered at his touch but managed to stay as still as possible -only imagining which punishment he had in store for you. You squinted your eyes and arched your back as you felt the cold leather going down on your bump.

“Did I say you can close your eyes?” Ransom asked in a harsh tone, grabbing your chin, “Was that a whimper what I heard?” his belt went down on you again, striking your breast this time. His eyes were fix on the saliva dropping from your chin straight to your throat; he brought his hand to your torso and spread it on the red area between your tits, “Will you remember my punishment next time?” without waiting for your answer, the black leather item hit your wet pussy and you tried your best to hold back a whimper.

Ransom let the belt fall on the carpet under the bed and moved away from where you were standing, then he turned his back at you and rummaged in the dresser next to the bathroom door. Your mind was too hazy for you to focus on him; that was the reason why you didn’t see him pushing the recording button on the little remote which controlled the camera on the bed.  

When he went back looking at you, your chest was quickly raising up and down, your hips desperately moving right to left, your legs slightly shaking, “I still haven’t touched you and you’re already trembling?” but his gaze was soon caught by your pulsating pussy. Any distance between the two of you disappeared when Ransom climbed onto the mattress and started caressing your legs, gesture which had you shivering, “You didn’t think about this when going out without panties, did you?” he watched as you shook your head, though your eyes never left his, “Yeah, I know. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be punishing you now,” his fingers moved to your inner thigh, only to go back to your knees soon after, “What a shame you can’t talk. Now I don’t know what you want,” he mocked you and was blessed by the view of you struggling to pronounce a complete sentence, “Maybe you want me to tickle you,” his hand went to your hips, “or maybe, you want me to leave you like this all night long,” he hinted at getting out of the room, and so abandoning your hot and wet body laying there. Yet your knee bounced up as he made a move to get off the bed and the movement had him looking back at you, “That isn’t right, bunny?” Ransom trailed his fingers up to your core, “That’s where you want me,” and he slid one finger inside your pussy, his thumb began drawing circles on your clit.

After a couple of thrusts, Ransom pulled out his finger from you and dropped your juices on your bottom stomach, spreading them immediately after, “Only one finger can’t do anything to you, right?” his fingers went back to your clit, pinching it hard, “You’re such a slut, you dream about cocks filling each hole of yours, don’t you?” Ransom watched as you arched your back, overwhelmed by the pleasure as he started to give you come release with his thumb. You were brutally brought back to reality once his hands came down brutally on your tits. He didn’t say anything this time, stuffing two fingers inside your cunt.

Again, he gave you a couple of thrusts and ripped them out all of a sudden. The fabric inside your mouth prevented you from letting out a moan and you kept your eyes on him, as your husband smirked at the sight of you writhing beneath him, “And you married me, knowing how well I can fulfill all your desires,” again, he spread your transparent juices over your belly and went down again. This time he added other two fingers inside you, and he began thrusting into you at a faster pace. You started sweating and your vision -now fixed on the roof- became blurred; your walls started clenching around Ransom’s fingers and you were finally coming to your high, yet you regain your focus when you felt yourself empty.

Your eyes came back on him and you moaned as you watched him gathering all your liquids and bringing them close to your face. Warning wasn’t something Ransom was used to, so you held your breath when you felt something dripping on your cheeks and lips. You suddenly opened your eyes and watched as your husband kept his hand above your head and made your cum falling from it, “Be a good slut and open your mouth for me,” as you did what he asked, he inserted his fingers in your mouth, which closed around them. Your tongue began licking and sucking on them -much as you could, considered the cloth inside your mouth-, cleaning them off from everything, “You thought you’d cum, didn’t you?” he moved closer to you, his knees at both your sides and his hands slowly stimulating your nipples. He stopped abruptly and brought both his hands around your neck, pushing you down on the mattress, “Let me make this clear: you don’t get to cum until I say so. If you do, I’ll have to punish you again.”

If you had been able to talk, you would have told him that frowning really didn’t suit him. His face was what you felt for and, if you had worn your underwear correctly, you would have been kissing it at the moment -and definitely not trying to avoid his punishment.

“Do you understand?” Ransom grabbed your chin and you nodded forcefully. He surprised you when he removed from your mouth the piece of fabric, which he unfolded in front of your eyes and then placed on your chest, “If you had worn them, we wouldn’t be here right now,” he stroked your cheek, swiping away the strained mascara on them, “Need your answer, bunny.”

“Yes,” it came out rasping, so much that you had to clear your throat before saying it again. His hands gliding onto your body had you shiver and you unvoluntary moved your hips as you felt his fingers skillfully play with your wet folds, and his thumb reached again your clit, “Please, Ransom,” you closed your eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, “I can’t hold it anymore.”

As if he hadn’t listened to your pleas, he got down the bed and undid the buttons of his trousers, letting them fall onto the ground. His underwear was kept on and, for the umpteenth time during the night, Ransom climbed on the mattress again. He placed himself between your wide-opened legs and bent over your body, his face a few inches away from yours that you only had to stick out your lips to touch his, his hands at both sides of your head, “Cat got your tongue? You don’t feel like talking anymore?”

Indeed, he was ignoring your cry for some kind of release.

You got you couldn’t take it anymore when you felt his boner slowly, yet firmly slamming against your pussy, “You know, I’ve got this boner on all the evening,” his fingers removed a lock of your hair from your forehead and halted it behind your ear, “Watching you acting like the perfect daughter around your family. Do you parents know you like being tied up at the bed like this?” he stretched out and took the handcuffs between his hands, “Maybe I should show them the cute video we are recording,” he said turning his head to look straight at the camera, and you did the same.

“Please, Ransom, n-“ you didn’t have the time to finish your sentence, since your remained breathless when a harsh slap hit your pussy, making you twitch, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, daddy.”

“Much better,” he said in a satisfied tone, though he still didn’t seem kind enough to finally make you cum, “Tell me, bunny, how should I fuck you tonight?” he kept rubbing his hard, yet clothed, cock on your cunt and each rub caused you to moan, “You know what? Today has been a long day, I’m tired,” he quickly lowered his boxers and took his rigid member in his hand, while the other one went pinching your clit, “Brace yourself, bunny, this is your punishment for tonight’s behavior,” he didn’t give you any time to prepare yourself. He just slammed into you hard and all at once, his balls hitting your thighs, his tip deep buried inside you.

You could have taken him also every day, but you would never get used to his size: Ransom was something you’d never experienced, big and thick, capable of filling you completely. You threw your head back and shut your eyes as you tried your best not to scream, considered the speed with which he was pounding into you.

“Talk. Tell me how you feel,” Ransom didn’t go any slower and saw as you struggled to find the words with which describe what was going on.

“God, da-ddy,” you breathed in, “you’re so de-ep in-inside me,” tears were staring to forming at the corners of your eyes, “y-your tip is-“ you let out a deep moan and he kept hitting your g-spot, “it is hi-hitting th-that spot-t,” you felt your cheeks becoming hotter and your fingers began shaking as you felt your climax approaching.

Ransom felt how your walls started clenching around his cock and he knew he was about to cum too, “I’m coming, bunny, I’ll paint your walls in white and you will take all the cum I’ll give you as the good slut you are.”

“Yes. Please, daddy, make me pregnant with your child. Please, daddy,” you screamed.

He picked up such a frantic pace that the headboard started banging against the wall and your pornographic moans did it for him. Not much seconds later his cum was released inside you as you reached, finally, your orgasm to, “Let’s see how they get out, disobeying like their mother, or vengeful like their father?”

You closed your eyes and let your body relax once and for all, you turned your head on the pillow and whispered: “Thank you, daddy. Thank you for your cum. It was so good.”

You were about to fall asleep when you felt your ankles and wrists being released and your body being carefully lifted off the soft mattress, “I can’t take anymore, please.”

“You aren’t taking anything, babe,” Ransom’s voice was soft and caring. He put you down inside the bath tube already filled with hot water and your favorite bubble bath, “Let me take care of you,” he quickly got in behind you and made you lay against his chest while he massaged your body, paying much attention on your wrists and ankles.

Your chest was still sensitive from the slaps, but he gently caressed it, too, and then went massaging your shoulders, “I love you.”

“I love you, too, my baby,” he whispered to your ear as he covered your body in bubbles, “But next time wear your underwear,” he chuckled and you did the same, leaving a kiss on his cheek.

“I’ll try.”

Tag List

ALL MY STORIES: @thummbelina@thegetawaywriter@coffeebooksandfandom@kiza4 @jemzeraion@chris-evans-is-world @rebloggingeverything 

ALL CHRIS EVANS: @stargazingfangirl18@rororo06@patzammit@harrysthiccthighss@inlovewiththefictionalcharacters

[dilly-oh]

Trashy Romance Novel

    “Naruto, you frigging idiot,” Iruka began hotly, barging into the hospital room, “of all the stupid, brainless things you could have done, this is by far the-”

    He stopped. 

    The person lying in the small bed was definitely not Naruto. It was a grown-ass man with messy gray hair and a faded scar over one eye, the sterile white sheets pulled up over his nose, apparently sound asleep. Iruka stared at him for a long moment, dumbfounded, before it clicked. 

    Oh shit, he thought. This is the wrong room. I'm in the wrong room. I need to hurry up and leave before- 

    The stranger's eyes cracked open and he squinted up at Iruka in confusion.

    “...Who're you?” he croaked out. Iruka managed a rather articulate gurgle of dismay, frozen in sheer mortification. He considered the distance between him and the IV drip, wondering if he could dose the man back to unconsciousness before he could scream or buzz for a nurse. “Are those for me?” the man asked, sitting up in bed to regard the bouquet of flowers in Iruka's arms. He opened his mouth to disagree, but then the sheet slipped off the man's face, and Iruka suddenly thought giving him the flowers might not be such a bad idea. He definitely deserved a thank you after gifting him with...that. He didn't even protest as the alarmingly handsome stranger reached out and took the bundle of flowers, opening the card on top. 

    “You're a dumbass. Love, Iruka.” he read aloud, then looked up at Iruka, batting his eyes. “Aww, babe, you shouldn't have.”

    “Whoa whoa WHOA!” Iruka finally blurted out, his face burning half from embarrassment at the situation, half from the thinly-veiled flirting. “I'm sorry, sir, there's been a mistake. I'm in the wrong room and-”

    “You mean you aren't my doting husband I tragically forgot about due to amnesia and now you have to win back my love by passionately recreating the story of our romantic union?”

    “Excuse me, WHAT-”

    “Sorry, I've been reading trashy romance novels. They're the only books this hospital has. Can't blame me for trying.” The man shrugged, then reluctantly handed back the bouquet. “Who's the lucky person they're actually for? Must be someone real special if you're calling them a dumbass to their face.”

    “My kid brother,” Iruka explained with a sigh. “He's here with a head injury.”

    “Ouch.” The man winced in sympathy. “Poor kid.”

    “Not really. He head-butted a brick wall.” 

    “...May I ask why?”

    “Because his stupid boyfriend walked into it and he had to, and I quote, 'defend his honor'.” Iruka paused, looking the man up and down. Despite being a bit on the pale side, he looked perfectly fine, pun very much intended. It was almost unfair how well he pulled off the hospital gown (although Iruka would much rather be the one pulling it off, wink wink, nudge nudge). “So...what're you in for?” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Was...was it the crappy romance novels? Did they rot your brain?”

    “I have an extremely rare, aggressive form of cancer with only two weeks left to live and the only cure is a kiss from my one true love...” The man swooned back onto the pillow and looked expectantly up at Iruka, who rolled his eyes. 

    “Yeah they definitely did-”

    “Alright you got me. Broke my leg.” He pulled the sheet off his lower half, revealing his legs, one of which was wrapped in a cast, propped up on some pillows. Several encouraging words from friends were scrawled on the white surface in marker, one of them a jarring green highlighter. It almost hurt Iruka's eyes to look at it. 

    “...How did you break it?” he asked, unable to contain his curiosity. 

    “I heroically threw myself in front of a speeding car in order to save the life of my beloved-” 

    “Okay how did you really break it?”

    “Tripped chasing after my pug at the park,” the man admitted with a weary sigh, his shoulders slumping in defeat. 

    “...Is the dog okay?” Iruka asked after a long pause.

    The stranger burst out laughing. It was a nice laugh, warm and contagious enough to elicit a chuckle out of Iruka, who was growing more and more intrigued. He couldn't deny the spark of attraction he felt for the other man, spontaneous as it was, and it seemed to be reciprocated. He didn't even know his name, but something about the man made Iruka want to know more about him. Maybe this was like some trashy romance novel, where the two would-be lovers met under unusual circumstances and fell instantly in-

    “Hey, Kakashi,” a man with short brown hair said, suddenly walking into the room, “I brought the next three volumes of your shitty porn series from the hospital library and a couple pairs of clean underwear, so you can stop fucking texting me the specific style and brand you want from home, you're so damn picky-” He stopped dead as he caught sight of Iruka, pausing for a beat, then glanced at the man in the bed, his eyes darting nervously between the two. “Umm...am I...interrupting something?”

    A cold pit of ice yawned open in Iruka's stomach. 

    Oh my GOD. Here he was, borderline flirting with some stranger in a random hospital room, when obviously the man already had a boyfriend and Iruka was just making a complete ass of himself. The flirting had probably been misinterpretation on his part anyway, and if not, the guy was a total dick. Either way, enough was enough. His face aflame with rage and shame, Iruka spun towards the door. 

    “I need to go.”

    “Hey, wait!” Kakashi or whatever his name was called after him. 

    Iruka was already out the door, ignoring the man's cries. Screw him, and screw Naruto, too. He was the cause of this whole mess. Iruka would just text him later. He was probably making out with Sasuke anyway and wouldn't even notice his brother hadn't popped in to visit. Iruka needed out of this hospital NOW. He turned towards the stairs, immediately got lost, and spent the next five minutes growing increasingly flustered as he stormed through the winding hallways, desperately searching for the exit. Why the fuck was the hospital so damn BIG-

    “Hey! Iruka! Hold up!”

    Iruka spun around to see Kakashi speeding towards him in a wheelchair, his boyfriend dutifully pushing him down the hallway at a dead run, IV dangling after him on its cord like a faithful dog. The wheelchair stopped with an audible squeal in front of him.

    “What- where did- did you steal that?!” Iruka hissed in outrage. 

    “Of course not, don't be silly,” Kakashi protested, sounding offended. “The guy it belongs to was asleep in his bed. I'm just borrowing it. I'll return it later. Anyway, Iruka-”

    “Were you flirting with me in there?” Iruka demanded, cutting him off. “Be honest.”

    “Abso-fucking-lutely,” Kakashi said without an ounce of remorse. “So can I have your number or what?” Iruka bristled. 

    “You're a piece of shit! I can't believe you, hitting on me like this right in front of your boyfriend! You have some nerve-”

    “Wait...boyfriend?” Kakashi cocked his head in confusion. “You mean Yams?”

    “The fuck do YAMS have to do with anything-”

    “Hi, that's me,” the short-haired man said, raising a hand. “Yamato, actually. 'Yams' to my friends. Which is what we are. Just...friends.” Iruka scowled at him suspiciously. 

    “Friends? Don't fuck with me. You brought him underwear-”

    “Really close friends,” Yamato reiterated. “Also, roommates. It's awful. I can't get away from him.” Iruka studied him for a moment, but couldn't spot any hint of deception. The man's almond-shaped eyes were surprisingly honest.

    “So you two...aren't dating?” he asked hesitantly. Yamato gave him a horrified look.

    “Dear God, NO. Kakashi is the WORST. He's lazy as hell, procrastinates til the last minute, is perpetually late to everything-”

    “You are a shit wingman-” Kakashi began. 

    “He needs to know what he's getting into,” Yamato snapped at him, then turned back to Iruka. “Seriously, though. You should run while you still can. There's hope for you.”

    “Don't listen to him,” Kakashi cut in. “I'm a fucking catch. Which is exactly why you should let your flaxen hair down, rip your shirt open to reveal your heaving bosom, and throw yourself into my arms-”

    “Will you cut that out?!” Iruka burst out impatiently. “Life is not a trashy romance novel.”

    “You sure about that?” Kakashi said, quirking an eyebrow. “Because I met you in a hospital through total coincidence. After really hitting it off, we had a misunderstanding brought on by miscommunication. Then I chased after you in a fucking wheelchair to declare my undying attraction to you. If that isn't a plot to a trashy romance novel, I don't know what the fuck is. At least it's not raining right now.”

    “I dunno, it might be drizzling,” Yamato said, glancing at a window.

    Iruka paused, considering.

    “I guess it...would make a pretty good book,” he admitted quietly. “The only thing is...I'm not sure what happens next.”

    “That part's for us to write,” Kakashi said, his tone eager. “Only we can complete the story.”

    “Aaaaand I'm going to puke,” Yamato stated. 

    “Sorry, we crossed the line from 'trashy' into 'sappy'.” Kakashi shook his head. “Anyway. Iruka. Please, I'm begging you. Let me sweep you off your feet. Just...give me a chance.”

    “I'll do you one better,” Iruka said after a pause. “I'll give you my number.” Stealing a marker from the nearby nurse's station, he bent and wrote his cell number on Kakashi's cast, then straightened and held out the bouquet. “Here, you can have these. The message works for you too, I guess.”

    Kakashi accepted the flowers with a laugh, taking an appreciative sniff. 

    “And now, I shall ride dramatically off into the sunset,” he said with complete seriousness. “Come, my valiant steed. Awaaaay!”

    “I will push you down the stairs,” Yamato grumbled as he spun the wheelchair around and started back down the hallway. Iruka watched them go with a fond smile on his face, giddy with anticipation. 

    He was eager to read the next few chapters in his life.

    Including the steamy bits. 

(Written for @kakairu-fest KakaIru Month 2021, Day Twelve Prompt: Hospitals)

[a-lil-perspective]

.

I wonder what it’s like to not be on edge every second of every day. To not feel nervous—God, I’m such a skittish thing—to feel at ease and not the sheer tension radiating through my body, fueling that fight-or-flight even if things around me seem relatively normal.

I wonder what it’s like to feel normal, to not be seized by crippling anxiety that everyone around me is so blissfully ignorant to. I’m practically screaming warning signs and they’re all so fucking stupid or they just don’t give a damn. And I’m not sure which is worse.

I guess that’s my fault for expecting people to be as emotionally astute as I am.

I wonder what it’s like to not feel maniacal, to have healthy thoughts. I wonder what it’s like to not remember every little thing I do or say, replay it in my mind over and over and over again until it makes me physically sick. I wonder what it’s like to not feel like everyone’s watching me, waiting for me to mess up.

The thought of messing up sends me into a panic, the kind where I can’t catch my breath and I think, “God, this is it, I’m so fucking stupid, I can’t do anything right, they’re gonna get rid of me”-

I’m sitting by myself sobbing, and I feel like all eyes are on me.

But at the same time, I feel complete and utterly alone. I’ve never felt more alone.

I wonder what it’s like to not work myself into a frenzy. I constantly have to talk myself down from the figurative ledge.

I wonder what it’s like to have friends, to not be isolated, to not be stuck with my own fucking thoughts for one minute. I wonder what it’s like to function—I can fake it so well. Scarily well. Everyone thinks I have my shit together. Nobody has me figured out—and I like it that way. I shouldn’t, but I do. There’s this part of me that craves it, the confusion—I get this morbid enjoyment from being an enigma to my family and peers.

That’s not normal.

Nobody knows me—nobody ever made it a point to. Nobody ever made me feel like I was important. And at some point, my brain stopped begging for someone to care and just embraced the fact that nobody ever will. When all I’ve ever wanted was to be known, a part of me says never. I’m simultaneously crushed and fueled by the fact that everyone thinks I’m aloof, severe, and generally lacking substance.

Which, I am.

I genuinely, from a place deeper than my soul, believe that I have nothing to offer anyone. I have no positive or redeeming qualities about myself. I really can’t name one. I have thoroughly convinced myself. That nobody would ever want someone like me. That I’ll never have companionship, or understanding, or healthy love. I feel like I’m not good at anything. I can’t articulate myself. I’m not smart. I’m not dexterous. If there’s a way to fuck something up, rest assured I’m to do it.

And so I make myself indispensable.

I tell myself if I bust my ass enough, work tirelessly and perfectly and without complaint, then, and only then, am I worth anything. I’m only “worthy” when I’m serving others. Any other time, my brain tells me I am nothing more than the dirt under people’s feet. And I believe it.

I tell myself I need to be on medication. Because I know I do. I feel like I do. Because this thought process is not normal. The blatant anxiety and depression is not normal.

I don’t know if meds could even help me at this point.

But I loathe myself so much that I could never bring myself to ask for help, because I just don’t care anymore, about what will happen to me. I’ll either power through it or I won’t. Like, I’m kind of just in “survival mode” at this point.

Come to think of out, I’ve been in survival mode for as long as I can remember. Thanks, childhood.

Honestly in my mind, all I can think about is that a professional will deem my problems “typical for my age” and thus not important—I’ve always had people make assumptions about me. Downplay me. Because I’m not important. I don’t matter.

And so I don’t matter to myself.

And people get mad at me, when I say that—they tell me I’m too “negative” and should “be kind to myself” or whatever.

You can’t blame me for never learning how to love myself.

I don’t know how to—nobody ever showed me or made me feel like I was worthy of love or that I was even a person with an identity. I grew up submissive and in constant search of purpose. I don’t know anything about myself outside of my mental disorders (which I’m only just now acknowledging I actually have). I don’t… I don’t know who I am.

It feels like an out of body experience. Like I’m just a wandering soul watching myself lose my shit from afar and it’s pathetic. People around me have lives and love and their qualities and I’m over here breaking down over everything I’m not. I lost my sense of identity—or maybe I never had one. And I just, I don’t know how to find it.

The idea of talking to a professional makes me spiral, sincerely. I can’t do it, it makes me so nervous, like, what the fuck am I literally supposed to say??? “Hey I’m malfunctioning and I should probably be locked away”???

Not to mention it makes me bitter—why would I waste my time and money on someone who (more than likely) sees me as nothing more than a paycheck stub?

Sorry. I’m very cynical I guess.

Distrustful, to say the least.

I hate spending my days like this. I’m constantly on the verge of a breakdown. At any given moment. From sun up to sun down. I literally wake up nervous. The only time I feel better is when I’m sleeping.

I’ve found out that sleeping is my brain’s way of protecting me. It’s a defense mechanism. Because it doesn’t know what else to do at this point.

When I break down, I go to sleep. Sometimes I just want to stay asleep.

[keilemlucent]

lavender latte: ix

(M (for now!)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

chapter 1   ||   chapter 2  ||   chapter 3   ||  chapter 4   ||   chapter 5   ||  chapter 6   ||  chapter 7  ||  chapter 8  ||  chapter 9  ||  chapter 10  || 

masterlist

word count: ~5.1k 

beta’ed: @hawnks & @keiqos 

the dichotomy of fear and safety 

warnings: vivid descriptions of panic/anxiety attacks, bodily injury, blood, ptsd descriptions, dissociation/depersonalization, overstimulation, trauma (please let me know if this should be warned any more thoroughly!)

alright fellas. second half of the mega chapter. PLEASE i read the warnings. please. there’s big moments in this chapter, but there’s lots of descriptions of what is warned. 

that being said, read and enjoy 💗

||||||||||||||||||

You didn’t know what to do. 

Horror had risen in your throat, intangible poison seeping into the tendons that pulled from your shoulder blades to your fingertips. You were frozen on the couch, Keigo’s babbling mixing with the static of the call. 

It was fuzzy background noise to your fear, the same way the press conference had been. 

Your nails bit into the meat of your palms, pricks of pain like flint and steel burrowing into your hardened jaw. You had your gaze trained on the ground, but the shuddering of your body was unmistakably unavoidable. 

Why are you shaking so much?

You felt like you were trembling hard enough to fall apart. 

(Were you cracking open from the inside?)

A knock sounded from your balcony door, an insistent thing that felt dulled and yet too loud. The sound tasted like a bitter herbal medicine you didn’t want to swallow.

All the same, you painfully moved to unbolt the door, the nagging push of the rubber tops of your crutches being a constant reminder of your own state and how you got there. It made your head swim even more. 

The moment you unlocked the sliding door, Keigo was into your apartment and onto you. 

 Keigo had been able to tell you weren’t doing well the moment he landed on your balcony, blinds and curtains open to give the perfect vantage point to see you falling apart.

His heart stuttered as he entered the door, taking you in as quickly as he could. 

You were in house clothes, the same ones he’d seen you in a few days ago. Mussed up hair and sunken-looking eyes that were uncomfortably vacant in the glow of the bright LEDS of the TV. You balanced on a single crutch and the back of the couch. Clutched in your free arm, tight to your chest, was the doughy-eyed plushie he’d given you at the hospital.

You looked purely wrung out.

Keigo bit his lip for a moment, not entirely sure on how to proceed. 

He’d been trained for it, once, how to coax someone into and out of states of distress. The thought of his own skills and their purposes were uncomfortable against the way he actually felt. The cognitive dissonance was loud, thundering, in his skull as he watched you sniffle. 

He acted on feeling. 

Keigo’s chest ached as he placed his hands on your shoulder, rubbing his thumbs into your knots of tension, “Can I hold you? Please?”

You dropped the plushie, shoving off the couch and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. If Keigo hadn’t been paying attention, you would’ve fallen, considering the way your lone crutch clattered to the ground.

 Your eyes burned as you shoved your face into the fluff around Keigo’s collar, bathing in his familiar, spiced scent and praying that it would calm you. You clutched at the back of his jacket and squeezed with everything you had.

You wanted to speak, say something, maybe explain the fact that you were quickly coming to sob against Keigo and for whatever reason.

But you couldn’t.

Any words and proper speech dissolving when you saw his perfectly healed face and were held up by his perfect healed arms. He was smiling, even if it was stitched with a bit too much concern to be comfortable.

His health should’ve made you feel better, but it didn’t.

The molten realization that seeing a pristine version of Keigo didn’t do anything to assuage how horrible you felt was worse than panic-inducing.

“Oh, dove, it’s okay, everything’s okay,” Keigo assured you, a gloved hand smoothing down the back of your spine. 

You tried to rationalize as you quaked. 

He’s fine.

You knew that already.

Everything’s fine. 

But, it didn’t seem to matter too much in the moment. 

You clung to him, bearing a bit of weight (foolishly) on your injured leg. If anything, the pain was grounding as you barely kept yourself together. 

Keigo hushed you, tearing off his gloves and tossing them aside to touch you with his bare hands, “Dove, everything’s fine, no need to cry.”

He smoothed a hand over the back of your head, cupping your neck and stroking a thumb over your spine. The action should’ve been comforting, Keigo being there should’ve been comforting, but it just wasn’t.

It made you feel so much worse. 

Your quirk spat, his touch burning far back in your throat.

“I-I know,” You leaned into him. “It’s just scary.”

“What is?” Keigo asked, his voice soft like barbed burrs against the shell of your ear. “Talk to me, (Y/N).”

“What do you think?!” You broke down, voice coming out far louder than you intended. “You got hurt!”

It was all you could manage to say. 

 Keigo paused, not saying anything for a minute.

...

He’d never seen you like this.

Keigo had seen you hollowed by your quirk and injured, yet you hardly cried then. He’d seen you immersed in no-good feelings, clutching a bottle of cheap wine, yet all you had been was maybe a bit vacant-sounding.

Yet, now?

You had him in a vice grip, shaking with the force you were squeezing him with.

He had to try his best to help, right? Show you that he was completely well.

Nothing to fear. 

“Dove, I know it’s scary, but it’s okay, I’m okay,” Keigo tried to comfort you with a squeeze and a kiss to your temple. “Everything’s okay.”

It didn’t seem to get through to you at all.

You continued to shake and sob as Keigo helped you to the nearby couch, your crutches in tow with a few of his feathers. 

 You desperately wanted to explain yourself better. Articulate in a way that made some sort of cohesive, easy to understand sense.

But, the reality was that it wasn’t that easy.

You couldn’t get a single thought straight. Everything was going to fast, yet trickling around your psyche like a thick glue. Your confusion was made worse by your panic. 

...

Keigo sat you down, a frown creasing his pretty features. 

You hated that you were the root of it. 

You stayed tense, shoulders hunched and hands folded in your lap as tears dripped down your cheeks.

And truthfully— honestly?

You felt fucking stupid. 

Maybe it was that the rancid, steadily-strengthening storm in your skull had been choking you for over twelve hours. 

Maybe.  

“Dove, I’m fine, see?” Keigo’s voice grated on your ears. 

Shouldn’t it have been reassuring? Shouldn’t it have made you feel better and not worse?

The reminder made your fists tighter. An odd anger boiling at the front of your skull that had your sobs slowing.

You shook your head, grabbing your crutches, and pushing yourself up.

Keigo caught your wrist, squeezing and pulling lightly, “Dove, please, I’ll get you whatever you need. Just sit for a second with me, okay?”

“I will.” You couldn’t make yourself look at him, jaw clenched. “I just need to grab some water.”

“I can— “

“Please. Just let me do it myself.”

You crutched away in as put-together of a manner as you could.

(It wasn’t much.)

Getting to the kitchen, your eyes were blurred with new tears of pure frustration. Your heart hammered in your chest to the point of nausea. Your quirk fired on and off and you desperately tried to calm yourself, especially in front of Keigo.

He’s fine.

He’s fucking fine, you’re fine.

You felt ridiculous.

You swallowed, grabbing a glass from your cupboard and sliding it towards the sink.

You balanced in front of the tap, resting your weight on the front of the counter. You put your booted foot down, not even wincing at the sharp pain. You were beyond caring. 

You turned on the faucet, forcing yourself to take more even breaths as you grabbed the glass.

 Keigo, meanwhile, had simply unmuted the TV, not even thinking much about it. You usually liked something ambient in the background if it was quiet enough. White noise. But, Keigo didn’t really check the volume, or what was playing. He wasn’t thinking about those details, far more focused on trying to listen to you in the kitchen.

(A mistake.)

The program you’d had on roared from the living room. 

 You didn’t really hear it until you felt it.

Rumbling of the bass of the speakers.

Cars revving.

Someone screaming, high and grainy— 

 The sudden sounds ripped through the air.

Ripped right through you.

You jumped, heart stuttering in your chest as your quirk burst to life.

The shock of it all had you nearly losing your balance.

You would’ve, if you hadn’t slammed your hand in the basin of your metal sink for stability— 

The glass in your hand, in your fist, shattered upon impact.

...

You didn’t scream, didn’t make a sound as you slowly looked down. 

Just slowly let your eyes, narrowed and focused, center on the sudden mess of bloody glass in your sink— 

And the scarlet shards that were stuck in your hand.

 Keigo waited, feathers keenly reading your breathing from the other room.

It scratched at his damn brain when the sound of broken glass against metal echoed through your apartment.

Your breath quickened shortly after. 

At first, Keigo was a bit annoyed. 

Just a tiny, tiny bit. 

You obviously weren’t doing well, and your stubbornness about getting fucking water just seemed senseless. Especially since you were already injured.

If you’d just let him take care of you— 

Keigo sighed, rising from the couch and making his way to the kitchen, “Hey, dove? Don’t bother trying to sweep, my feathers can— “

His voice died in his throat as he rounded the corner into your kitchen, fear growing in his chest.

 You were bent over the sink, oddly supported on one crutch with way too much fucking weight on your injured leg. 

But, that wasn’t the worst, not close.

You held your hand just over the basin of the sink.

Jagged shards of glass stuck from your palm, little rivulets and streams of blood dripping into the sink below. 

Your eyes were uncomfortably vacant, brows creased and mouth just the slightest bit opened, lips cracked.

“Oh, fuck, dove, shit,” Keigo should’ve known better to panic, but the immediate swell of that protective nature (that he needed to think harder about) had him shooting across your kitchen, a few of his larger feathers flying to support your injured leg. You would’ve fallen if Keigo hadn’t wrapped an arm around you for balance. 

Keigo couldn’t tell if it was the burning concern he had over seeing you hurt (again), or the tiny pricklings of ire he had that this was entirely avoidable if you had just listened— 

He grabbed your wrist, turning it by his firm grip to take in how bad the injury was.

(Secretly, he’d done a bit more reading about injury assessment, since what happened with your leg.)

“Well, I don’t think you’ll need stitches,” Keigo sighed, letting his annoyance bleed into his tone. As concerned as he was, this was just a mess and he was somewhat aware of the fact he was also running a bit late— “Where’s your first aid kit?”

You were silent, head tilted down, eyes wide and on the running blood.

“Dove, first aid kit?”

“...There’s glass in my hand.”

Keigo’s swore he felt his lungs turn to ice, every selfish thought promptly draining. 

If he thought hearing you sob was bad, however the fuck you were talking then was a thousand times worse.

Hollow didn’t even begin to describe it.

“There’s glass in my hand.”

Shouting echoed from the TV.

“There’s glass in my hand.” 

...

There was glass in your hand. 

Shards, just like on the teashop’s floor. 

Your quirk spun, trilling to life, far harder and harsher than it had in the past twelve hours of panic. It descended indiscriminately on your perceptions and senses like a swarm of carrion-eating corvids, the shrill, staticy shouting of the TV, their caws and crowings. 

You found that blood smelt similarly, a coppery, heady scent that made the backs of your eyelids singe.

It made your head spin. 

Then again, anything and everything was hard to sense. Hard to think. Keigo might’ve been talking, you couldn’t tell or care. There was just— 

“glass in my hand.”

The pain of your present, weeping wounds should’ve felt sobering, like the echoings of your surgery when you put pressure on your healing leg. 

But it wasn’t.

The sting trailed up your arm, eating at your nerves and bone marrow like biting ants and hungry mosquitos.

You wished you could’ve reacted but all you could think of was that was—

“glass in my hand.”

...

...

The teashop. 

Everything was okay there. 

Keigo would come in for his drink, you’d make it, you’d flirt, and everything was okay. He’d give you his pretty laugh, you’d watch the blush grow on his cheeks. 

...

The tea shop wasn’t an open-wired husk, covered in SHATTERED GLASS glass and ruined. There was no shadowy villain that sprayed GLASS glass into your leg. There was no injury, there was no agony in Keigo’s voice when he first saw you on the cement. 

He never left you in the back room, quaking and cut.

Your quirk never spun so hard in the place that was once a safe haven for you.

...

Keigo had never been bloodied in battle. Well, maybe, but you never saw it. You didn’t keep yourself awake with nightmares, caring when you shouldn’t have. You didn’t ever accidentally brand the image of him with a crooked arm and bloody cheeks into the front of your mind. 

All that there was— 

“glass in hand.”

Simple as that. 

...

Your chest was burning, like phosphorus and liquified iron were being poured down your throat to settle and flattening you to the floor. 

Everything was okay.

You spun

 “(Y/N).”

 Keigo.

 ...

 God, he was fucking dumb. 

“There’s glass in my hand.”

It all clicked, and Keigo felt a roll of anxiety wash through him. 

Tears rolled down your cheeks, your mouth open as you took harsher and harsher breaths.

Fuck.

Keigo would kick himself for not recognizing the scope of it, you, faster.

He sent a feather to silence the TV, another to grab a nearby dish towel, gently wrapping it around your wrist from the bottom. With the most tender touch he could, he covered your hand and forearm.

“There’s glass in my hand.”

You choked on your own breath, free arm wrapping around your stomach.

Keigo knew touching you could make this all worse, so he tested the waters with a gentle palm on your shoulder.

You didn’t flinch or tense, but you didn’t lean into it.

Good enough.

Keigo shucked off his heavy coat, quick as he could, sending his feathers to scatter away and across the tile below. He rested in on your shoulders, watching your reactions with the utmost intensity and a set jaw.

“T-there’s glass in my hand.”

With all the tears clouding your eyes, it was no wonder you couldn’t even see the wound covered. Not that you were properly in your skull, Keigo could tell that now. 

He doubted there was much lucid about you.

Keigo should’ve known better. Really. You were his angel— his fucking dove. That protective instinct was so dispersed in his hero work, that them coming alive seeing you injured and panicking was jarring to the point of nausea. 

Why had he ignored how you sounded so off on the phone? The weird behavior?

You were just a few weeks out from being in a significant villain attack— Did Keigo really think hugs and kisses were going to mend the wounds he couldn’t see? The ones he couldn’t perceive?

He just had to do better, now.

 Something bore down on your shoulders. Weight.

Would you fall?

You remembered how your knees hit the hard floor of the teashop how SHATTERED GLASS glass had dug into your kneecaps. Maybe, they didn’t feel like the same fiery insects burrowing in the nerve-endings of your hands— no, those had felt like thin, metal toothpicks, shooting through the bone like it was a threadbare sheet and not solid.

Something soft pressed against your cheeks.

It sent blessed, blessed heat through your body. The smell— like honey and sweet cream filled your mouth like a gulp of holy water. It warmed the back of your tongue, familiar and sweet.

Keigo.

You remembered him that terrible day too. How good, and solid he was. How his heartbeat was the tempered drum you needed to even attempt to grasp the frayed threads of objective reality through the chaos, shouts, and SHATTERED GLASS— 

“There’s glass in my hand.”

“I know.”

His voice. 

Similar sensations, the same warmth, like a heavy, quilted blanket wrapped around you. Maybe a hearth, rolling in the late night as a late autumn night rolled by— 

You were being pulled down, physically. 

It scared you.

“No!”

It came out as shriek like SHATTERED GLASS angry nails against your ears, spitting bile up from the soles of your feet.

The heat washed over you again, “It’s just me, angel. I’ve got you.”

You trusted it, implicitly. 

You sank, expecting the same pins to shred your knees again like they had back then. 

Expect, it didn’t. 

Rather, slowly, you end up on the ground, on your bottom.

 Keigo guided you to the floor with the help of some feathers and words of encouragement, not even attempting to get you back to the couch.

He sat you between his own outstretched legs, coaxing you to lean back into his chest. Keigo kept a careful watch on your hand, bracing you at the forearm as to not aggravate the wounds more than necessary. 

It took a moment, but you fell against him. Your breathing was still harsh and ragged, but at least you weren’t trying to keep standing.

Tentatively, Keigo wrapped his arms around your waist. You didn’t react negatively, so he took it another step further, resting his forehead against the back of your neck.

“(Y/N), breath with me,” he asked, keeping his voice soft. “Just listen to my voice okay?”

He counted his breaths, keeping them slow and methodical. Considering how his own heart was exploding like a miswired bomb, he needed it as well. 

Even if it took a while for it to catch in your skull, Keigo kept at it. 

...

Keigo was good. 

The images of him bloody and smiling were still bright.

But, he was good.

He was attached to the heat and sweetness around you. It was distracting. 

Nice.

“Just like that, nice and steady, you’re doing so well, dove.”

He was good.

Slowly, the pains and barbs around your body dulled, at least by a few fractions.

The lump of panic lodged in your throat eroded and left your belly oddly-weighted and uncomfortable. Though, it was marginally better than whatever you were feeling before.

Slowly becoming aware of your body (and the one so close),  you shifted to rest your cheek against Keigo’s temple as your quirk quieted a few decibels. 

You sagged back into him, tears at a steady drip, but nothing like they were.

“Keigo?” You asked hoarsely. 

He shifted, your teeth shattering as the movements of his muscles felt like so much so close to your own.

He flickered his kind, golden gaze to you, “Yes?”

“There’s glass in my hand.”

The words nearly fired you up again, a sob burying itself like a shortsword in your breast, your head tilting to look-

Keigo squeezed around your waist, a wide feather coming up to shield your face from what you both knew you’d see, “There is, dove. Do you have a first aid kit? Let me patch it up for you.”

Did you really want to see your bloodied hand? The mental image of it still felt so fresh. 

It all felt like too much— 

“Dove? Stay with me, (Y/N),” Keigo carefully laid his hand around your jaw. “First-aid kit?”

“Oh,” You blinked, focusing back on him again. “Under the bathroom sink.”

...

 Keigo was careful not to let you slip away again.

He kept talking, keeping his voice low and soft as he set you onto the couch to clean your hand. The feather shield turned to cover your eyes as needed.

Your hand might’ve looked worse simply due to the white dishrag bleeding red.

He was quick to patch it, bandaging it and wrapping as needed. He’d made sure to tuck your favored plushie, the one he’d gifted you, into your free arm as he did.

He sat between your spread legs, on his knees, as morning light shifted in from the open balcony window. It might’ve seemed intimate to an onlooker— maybe it was.

That was a later thought. 

Finally, hand wrapped confidently and securely in medical tape, Keigo sat back, the feather shielding your eyes floating back to his reassembled wings.

You still didn’t look well, maybe worse than used-up and hollowed as before.

Slowly, your injured hand twitched, grabbing Keigo’s wrist and pulling him to the couch.

You tugged him into your lap, burying your face in the front of the shirt of his hero costume.

Keigo settled on top of your thighs, wrapping his wings around the two of you as he buried his nose in your hair.

“We’re okay.”

It was so soft, Keigo hardly heard it.

“We are, dove.” He kept his voice equally quiet, reverent in the gold of the morning. He pulled back to settle and meet your gaze. “You’re safe. I’m safe. We’re safe.”

You squeezed around his hips, pulling him closer in the crimson canopy, “You sure?”

“Positive.” 

There was a moment of stillness, then shrillness. 

The ringtone of Keigo’s phone screamed from the pocket of his jacket that you still had around your shoulders. 

You jolted, pushing yourself deeper into Keigo and wincing, the sound undoubtedly shredding your oversensitive mind and body.

He quickly grabbed it from the pocket, ending the call.

“Do you have to leave?” You asked, weak against him sternum.

Keigo shot off a text, silencing the phone sans emergency alerts and tossed it near his shoes at the door. 

“No, I’m not. I’m taking the day off,” Keigo spoke words he truly thought he never would. 

“Are you sure?” He knew you knew he was busy.

“Yeah,” Keigo replied quietly, tugging you as close as he could. “I would never leave you like this, (Y/N). Never.”

“You’ve got important shit to do,” you fought, weakly, still melting against him. 

“I do,” Keigo emphasized, cupping your face in his hands. “You know what that is?”

You didn’t answer, eyes flickering away, something fragile bore in your eyes. 

“Keeping you safe.” Keigo stroked over your cheeks, letting his softest, most careful smile grow. “I’m new to it, but one thing I’m sure of is that I’m supposed to be here when you need me. And I want to be.” 

“You do keep me safe—” 

“Then, I haven’t done a great job of helping you feel that way,” He kissed your forehead, quickly hushing you. 

You were trembling beneath him, unsure of what to say. 

Quiet as he could, Keigo spoke once more, the words sounding almost like breath, “I’m sorry I pushed you away. Let me be here, now.”

Truthfully, endlessly, you wanted nothing more. You’d get a therapist, or something, to help with the more pressing, far back concern of obvious trauma.

But now, in the early morning of your golden-lit apartment?

You just wanted Keigo to stay.

You just wanted to fall into him, both you being okay, the only red stains being that of Keigo’s crimson feathers that you adored so much.

He felt solid, as he always had.

You leaned into him. 

“Can we nap?” You interrupted your own hush, voice nearly breaking with tired tears. “I didn’t sleep well.”

“I don’t imagine you did,” Keigo winced internally, remembering you must’ve felt horrible since the night prior. “Come on, dove.”

Keigo helped you to your room, gently assisting you in moving aside your plushies. You sipped some stale water from your bedside, a few of his feathers refilling it for you as you were undoubtedly dehydrated. 

You sat back on the duvet, Keigo quickly gathering you into his arms, head against his chest. His feathers dispersed around the room, only the small roots remained to be pressed into the sheets. 

 It was the calm after the storm, mangled pieces surfaced and bobbing on the water of both your minds. But, they could be sorted and dealt with properly later. For now, you settled, blessedly, in the comfort of each other. The shattering thunder was an echo, quieted by the others presence and slow breaths.

 The steady thrum of his heart in your ear was the final bit of calm you needed. The blackout curtains of your room kept it dark, light with the tiniest fairy lights across the seam of your walls and ceiling barely giving enough light to cast shadows. Your quirk was properly dormant, though you still felt frazzled.

You were exhausted, but not done yet. 

“Keigo?” You asked softly. 

He immediately squeezed your intertwined hands, the one laid over his navel, “Yes?”

“I’m sorry I got like that, about seeing you hurt,” It was such a soft admission, unnecessary, but you didn’t let Keigo’s inhale stop you. “I know, I don’t need to apologize, but I’m still going to.”

You sat up a bit, body aching as you faced Keigo.

His lips were parted, half-ready to speak, to comfort you, but you needed to be there for both of you— if only for a moment.

“I also know it’s part of the reality of your job. It’s just hard, seeing someone you love hurt, whether it's necessary or otherwise.”

You both noticed your word choice.

Your lip wobbled as you stroked his cheek, rubbing your thumb over the curves of his face. He looked younger like this, more like his age, eyes widening and soft and truly vulnerable, as terrifying as the prospect was. 

 “You don’t need to be sorry. I understand,” Keigo assured you, voice shaking as he tugged you down and closer. “It is hard. I didn’t realize how hard until now.” 

His breath caught in his chest, followed by sniffling as he buried his face in your hair. 

You entangled your legs with him, the weight of your boot a solemn reminder.

“It was more than that too.”

You both knew what you were referring to. 

Keigo squeezed you, so hard it almost hurt. You swore you could feel a few stray tears of his wet your scalp, “And that’s okay.”

Your eyes stung, “It was all so scary— “

You muffled yourself against Keigo’s neck as you clung to each other. 

“I know, but it’s okay now. You’re safe, safest you could ever be,” Keigo assured you, the wobble in his voice almost disguised. He rubbed at the tension in your lower back, “It’s okay to be scared, however that is and whenever that is, but do you feel me next to you?”

“Y-yeah.” A soft admission.

“Then you’re safe.”

You believed him, implicitly. 

 You simply held each other for a while. 

 “Are you just better at coping with all of this?” You asked, the joke feeling light after so much heaviness. 

“I’d say repressing, but ‘coping’ works too.”

You snorted, gently. 

Keigo stroked up your back, touch like a washing, warm undertow that you were happy to be caught up in.

“I’m sorry for not understanding sooner,” Keigo squeezed, mind drifting unconsciously back to his own past, of that he’d rather forget and most of the time did. “I know it’s hard to communicate, and I can’t imagine what it's like with your quirk. I’m supposed to be smart about this shit, but it looks like I have some work to do, huh?”

“You couldn’t have known. Just adjusting, you know? Communicating and learning,” You replied, squeezing him. “You care so much, Keigo. I can tell.”

Keigo went silent and tense.

“How?”

It was a question posed to both you and himself.

 You thought for a moment, through the thousands of moments you’d collected over the months, so many concentrated in the last few weeks.

“It’s how you feel, you know?”

He remained silent, though he knew what you meant. 

You felt your tongue rest in your mouth, activating your spent quirk for just a moment and savoring Keigo’s sweetness.

“You taste like honey. Like, warmth on a cold day. Every time you touch me, I feel like I could be anchored in the worst storm, and you wouldn’t shiver, let alone falter.”

Keigo remained silent, squeezing you and burying his face in your hair.

“Whenever you look at me,” you spoke so softly, the words might’ve broken in the air itself, “your eyes soften from solid gold to warm honey. Every time. From that first time, you walked in the shop.”

He remained silent, though his trembling spoke volumes and tomes. 

“I can tell you care, Keigo. In so many ways. I can’t ever forget.”

 Keigo had never felt so deeply, he was sure of it.

He’d never felt the blessed heat you’d given him, so many times, with your words, and sweetness, and kind smiles before. 

He’d never been cherished like a person before.

He was sure that he’d never cared so endlessly and with all of himself before for another being.

The premise terrified him for a moment.

But, all it took was a quick glance down at the tangling of your bodies in the low glow of the room for any fear to melt away. 

You were right there with him, the same way he was there for you. 

 Keigo finally spoke, pulling your face up to his.

Your eyes met, every part of the two of you turning to mush in the hold of the other. 

You both felt okay.

And, really, truly, looking into the molten core of him, you felt safe. 

So did he. 

Keigo stroked his thumbs over your cheeks, brows creasing like he was holding back fat tears, “I love you so much, you know? I don’t think I couldn’t.”

Something, like a steady, new flame— 

Something, like all the heat you and Keigo shared (and would come to share) lit through you both— 

Like the gentle sun being born once again between the two of you, framed in red feathers and softness. 

You replied truthfully, with all of you, burying yourself in him as he tucked into you. 

“I love you too, Keigo.” 

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💗ko-fi 💗

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[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.

[ficsxreaderr]

Music to my eyes [7]

OKAY I AM BACK, NOT THAT ANYONE MISSED ME BUT HERE IT IS. LOVE Y'ALL

Pairing: Single dad!Bucky Barnes x reader. (Modern day AU)

Summary: As a simple worker at a record store, there’s so much  you want to do in life yet, which doesn’t involve a serious relationship  and much less a relationship with a guy who’s a father. Once you meet  Bucky Barnes you’re not sure you can live up to that anymore.

Requests are open. Tagging for a permanent list and this fic are open.

Reblogging and feedback are welcome and appreciated!

Series masterlist | Masterlist

“Sam, you better come here and help me get ready.” You tell him on the phone as you prepare your first cup of coffee of the day, on Steve’s wedding day.

“But I’m one of the groomsmen, we got to be there early because you’re my plus one.”

“I’m a punctual woman, I thought you knew that. Come on, you got to help me with my hair and tell me how the dress looks.”

“Alright, but I’ll be rushing you, you have to know that.”

“I’d be surprised if you didn’t.”

Right after you’ve taken a shower, you hear a knock on your door, knowing it’s Sam. Putting on your bathrobe and a towel to dry your hair, you walk out of the bathroom and get the door.

“Please tell me you’re not going dressed like that.” Sam says the second you open. You roll your eyes at him and step aside to let him in.

“Can I get you anything? Did you have lunch already?” You ask as you walk into the kitchen and pour each of you a glass of lemonade.

“Yeah, I ate something on my way here, figured you wouldn’t want to eat while doing your makeup.” He says, stepping into the kitchen after he’s put his tux on the hanger.

“Good choice.” You nod as both of you take a sip of lemonade. Both of you make your way to your room, where you’ve set everything you need to get ready.

“Wow, women really are complicated, huh?” He says as he stops to look around. “Where do you even start?”

“I’ll start with my makeup and you start with my hair.” You shrug as you sit on your stool and take off the towel from your head. He walks in and chuckles, and he takes the hair dryer to plug it in.

“Y/N, are we going to talk about…well, you know what.” He asks as you start ordering your things and decide not to look at him, knowing you’re still trying to avoid the subject.

“I don’t know, Sam, I…I feel like an idiot. Dry my hair and I’ll think about it meanwhile.” He shakes his head and does as you say.

Once your hair is dry and you’ve started with your makeup, he waits for the hair straightener to heat as he sits on the edge on the bed.

“Can we talk about it now?” He says, more amused that serious.

“Sam!” You scream, turning around in your stool. “What is there to talk about? I…messed up.” You go back to your makeup and he stands behind you, grabbing the straightener to see if it’s heated. “What has he said? No, wait, don’t tell me, I don’t want to know.”

“He misses you, he wishes he’d never try to kiss you if he’d known it just drive you away.” He says as he starts straightening your hair.

“But that’s not why I left, Sam, not exactly. I wanted to walk away even before that…”

“But it was really bad timing, you know, I’m sorry to say it…”

“No, you’re right, I looked like a jerk, but…I didn’t want to hurt him. Just wanted to do what was right…for everyone.”

“And what exactly is that? You’re not happy, he’s not happy, and Sarah certainly isn’t…”

“Yeah, I know that, too…I messed up, I told you. He’s never talking to me again and I can’t blame him.”

/

Sam has kindly let you use his hotel room so you can change and add the finishing touches to your makeup. At the sight of the amazing hotel Peggy and Steve have booked, you wonder how on Earth they could ever afford it, you could never. Only Sam’s room is huge, it makes you think what the bridal suite must be like. You settle your bag on the bed and your makeup on the marquee, welcoming the soft rug beneath your bare feet. Hanging the dress on a hanger by the door, you unzip its cover bag and stare at it for a moment, thinking it was an amazing choice for this night. It doesn’t matter how awful you feel for what you did, you’re still intending to fix it, but it scares you that he might not even want to hear you or that if he does, that he turns you down. And it wouldn’t even surprise you.

After you’ve made the finishing touches to your makeup, you finally put your dress on, sliding it carefully up your body. Staring at your reflection, you love how the dress hugs every curve of your body, how the thin straps leave your chest uncovered and with a gentle turn, you can see how the half of your back is uncovered, just like you wanted it to. The rosewood satin suits you just perfectly but there’s just one problem, you can’t zip this dress on your own, and you curse Sam for leaving you at the moment. You hear the door to the contiguous room open and you’re glad Sam’s finally back.

Without turning around, you speak, “Sam, finally! Would you mind—” You’re interrupted as you see Sam’s not the one standing across the room, and you clench the back of your dress in nervousness. Your heart stops beating for a moment and you let out a breath before you pass out. “Bucky, hi, I’m sorry, I—”

“Hi, Y/N, I thought Sam was here.” He clenches his hand around the doorknob, hesitant to say anything else. Bucky freezes at the sight of you for two main reasons: one, he misses you, he misses you like crazy and he didn’t know he wanted you that much in his life until the day you stopped calling and visiting; and, two, even with the zipper undone, the dress you picked for tonight is definitely Bucky’s greatest weakness. He’s not sure if you look more beautiful because he hasn’t seen you in so long or because you really know how to dress for a wedding, but he is certain that he’s never been more in love with you than right now.

“He…let me use his room to get ready.” You clear your throat. A moment goes by in complete silence, it feels like an eternity, until he decides to speak.

“I-I can help you…with your dress.” He finally lets go of the doorknob and you notice him fidgeting his fingers. Your mouth goes dry and you need to swallow to gain some composure.

“Thanks, that’d be great.” You nod and wait as he steps inside the room and slowly walks towards you. All the tension of this moment let you forget how handsome he looks in that tux, how his perfectly combed hair and not-so-elegant-but-still-attractive stubble adorn his features and how lucky whoever’s walking with him down the aisle is. Once he’s inches away from you, you turn around so he can zip up your dress. Looking down at your feet, you’re afraid to look in the mirror and meet his eyes there. He is distracted, for a moment, by your intoxicating scent and how soft and glowing your skin looks as the afternoon sunlight that slips through the drapes hits it. You let go off the fabric, and he slowly zips it, careful not to pinch your skin or ruin your dress for that matter. Turning around, you feel a bit dizzy, not sure why, but you find Bucky’s eyes staring at you, a few inches apart now, and you can’t get your brain to articulate even one word.

“How have you been?” You ask after what seemed like hours and he replies almost instantly,

“I’m okay…I mean, I’ve been great, spending a lot of time with Sarah and…everyone else.” He nods, and he really sounds like he’s been doing alright, like he hasn’t missed you like you’ve missed him. Maybe he is better off without you. “You look…amazing.” His weak heart betrays him, and he blurts it out. “H-how have you been?”

“Thanks.” You offer a small smile. “I guess I’ve been okay,” You shrug, unable to hide how you’ve not been okay. “I was really excited about this wedding, Peggy and Steve are-”

“Made for each other.” He interrupts you and you swear there’s a trace of a smile on his face.

“Exactly.” You nod and sigh before saying what’s been killing you inside, even if it will hurt if it doesn’t go as you want it to. “Bucky, I need to talk to you.”

“Of course.” He nods. “I…I think I need to say some things too.”

“I know and…” You sit on the bed and he quickly follows so you’re facing each other. “I’m really sorry for what I did, I didn’t want you to think that I walked away because you…tried to kiss me. It’s not like that.”

“Then what happened, Y/N? ‘Cause I really feel like I messed everything up and I didn’t want things to happen like that, it was all good with us.”

“Since I met you, I knew there was something about you…and when I found out you had a kid-”

“Of course, I knew it…” He stands up, running a hand through his hair, but you’re quick to grab his wrist and make him stop.

“Bucky, no, I know what you’re thinking, just let me finish.” He sits down again, and now it really hurts to see the look on his face, how saddened he seems after what you said; you never wanted to be the cause of that. “Bucky, there’s…a lot I want to do in my life, in fact, there’s barely anything I’ve actually done and…I’ve always wanted to make room for someone that came into my life so we could share everything together. But I got scared and that’s the only word I can find because I am, in fact, a coward. I’ve never thought of having a family, it’s never been in my plans or my dreams, but when I started having feelings for you I…all I wanted was to be with you and with Sarah, no matter what. But it scares me that I can’t keep up with the life you have…because it’s still not…the life I want. And I walked away because…I couldn’t control what I felt anymore, and I didn’t want you to get hurt if I stayed longer…and I also didn’t want to hurt myself.” You both stare for a moment at each other, and his expression changes, he relaxes and his eyes shine a tiny bit…but you know it’s there, the slight hope that he might not hate you and that he will forgive you for treating him so poorly.

“It was so hard to see you didn’t come back or called…or texted. I figured I messed everything up and I’d just lost you. The last thing I wanted was to look for you because I thought I could only make it worse-”

“Before you continue…let me just say that you have nothing to be sorry about, I didn’t expect anything and not because I didn’t expect it from you, it’s just that I ruined it and it was obvious that no one would want to look for me after that.”

“I just want you back in my life, Y/N, I’ve missed you and even if nothing happens between us…I miss my friend, too. And the reason I combed my hair like this is because I need a haircut, and no one understands my hair like you do.” He says as he runs a hand through his hair, chuckling. It makes you laugh, and oh, how you missed this feeling of him making dumb jokes and you hitting his arm ridiculously hard.

“So, you’re only looking for a haircut? ‘Cause I’m going to start charging you if you don’t want to be my friend.” You cross your arms and bite your lip as you amuse yourself looking at the scared look he puts on.

“No! That’s not it! I…miss everything.” He blushes as you chuckle, the one thing you could watch forever: his blushed, stubble-covered cheeks. “Sarah misses you, too, a lot.” Your heart melts when you hear those words, because as much as you were never a ‘kids’ person’, Sarah is certainly the exception, but what could you expect? She was raised by a guy like him.

“Aw, Buck.” You shake your head with a small smile. “I miss both of you, too.” He takes a deep breath and smiles broadly, making you do it too, because for so long you hadn’t seen that and it’s such a weight off your shoulders to finally talk things through.

“So…will you dance with me tonight? I was really looking forward to this, you know.” His almost apologetic frown makes you smile broadly and before you know it, you’ve taken his hand in yours and you notice how he flinches.

“I’m sure we can dance at least one song…unless your date isn’t so fond of the idea.” You suggest, hoping deep down he didn’t bring one, because you didn’t even think of bringing one yourself.

“I didn’t bring a date.” He quickly shrugs and it makes you let out a breath. “Did you?”

“If you consider Sam a date, then I did.” You reply as you chuckle, both of you knowing what a big joke that is, so you make him laugh.

“I’m going to have to borrow you from him, then.” He gives your hand a gentle squeeze and both of you smile at each other. “Thanks for talking to me.”

“Thanks for…listening, I know I probably didn’t deserve it but…”

“No, don’t say that, I know you really are sorry.”

“I am.” You nod in reassurance.

/

After the lovely ceremony, which you didn’t expect less from, you’ve moved to the reception where apparently Peggy picked up the most beautiful decorations and colors, and you feel like you’re inside of a magazine…a magazine you’re probably never going to buy but you’ve surely seen enough of. Sipping your drink, watching all the couples dancing and smiling at each other makes you smile, too. You glance at Sam as he’s most likely hitting on a bridesmaid, which actually doesn’t surprise you, and she seems to be having a great time, too. You shake your head as Sam glances back at you and he nods in your direction, making you frown at him. As you take another sip of your drink, you’re startled by a low voice talking behind you,

“I knew you didn’t bring a date but I didn’t think you’d be sitting down for this.” You stand up and turn to see Bucky with his hands in his pockets and with a billion-dollar smile.

“Heels are a pain, you know? I stand for five minutes and I have to sit down for fifteen.” You put your hands on your hips.

“And are those 15 over?”

“You know what, they are.” You nod with a smile.

“Good, five minutes is enough for a song.” He shrugs

“Of course I could dance barefoot, I’m a much better dancer without these things.”

“And that would give us more than five minutes.” He says as he takes a few steps until he’s closer to you, letting you drown in the blue of his eyes. Your gaze meets his and he gives you that lopsided grin you’ve fallen in love with all this time.

“A lot more, I think.” You almost murmur and he offers his hand with his palm up so you can take it. You smile at him and tangle your fingers with his.

“Aren’t you gonna take off your heels?”

“You’re too tall for me, I’ll take them off when my feet hurt.” You shrug and both of you walk to the dance floor. He wanted to fight the urge to put his arm around you, but he couldn’t, you were too close to him and he had waited for this for too long now, he wasn’t going to wait any longer. The warm feeling of his hand through your dress made you stiffen, and you looked up at him in reassurance. He smiled at you and squeezed your waist gently before leading you to start dancing. His timing was so accurate that the song is slow but fun to dance to, but then again, any song would be fun with him around. The way he easily sways with you at a rhythm that feels choreographed is unbelievable, it’s like both of you were so made for each other that even dancing seems like the easiest thing with him.

“You know your friends are gonna give you a lot of crap later, right?”

“I’d be an idiot if I didn’t know that, but I’m willing to pay that price. I’m hoping I don’t have to see them later, though.” He quirks up an eyebrow, suggestively and you smile at that, knowing exactly what he meant.

“You’re quite optimistic.” You nod and make him chuckle.

“I like to believe that.”

“I can’t believe I missed so much time with you for being so stubborn.” You shake your head and he frowns.

It’s like you just agreed to say nothing anymore and your gazes meet, as easily as they always did. This kind of heart rush you’ve only felt it a few times in your life and one of them was the day he tried to kiss you and you fucking ran away. It’s the most beautiful feeling, especially with him, because you know what’s coming and you can’t but enjoy every second you stare at each other and your faces draw closer to each other’s until your noses brush against each other’s.

“I’m really going to kiss you, you know.” He murmurs against your lips.

“I know.” You reply almost silently, until he finally presses his lips against yours and you kiss him back with an easiness that you could only feel with him. He brings your body closer to his, if that’s possible, and you slowly put your arms around his neck, clinging to him as if it could make this moment last longer. Many people are watching, but that’s not a concern for you right now because after all this time and after all those nights wondering if Bucky would ever come back to you, this is all you’ve wanted and there’s nothing that can ruin this. His hands clench around your waist and it really feels that you’re his and he’s yours finally, the kiss is long, but not long enough for your liking and he slowly pulls away, unable to erase his smile.

“Well, that’s new.” You murmur with a wide grin, making him chuckle and look down, trying to hide his blushed cheeks. “If I got paid for every time you blushed…” You add, making him look up again and stare as he bites his lip.

“It’s your fault, I can’t control that!” He says almost laughing, and you laugh too as both of you have forgotten you were dancing in the first place. Looking around you, you take Bucky’s hand in yours and lead him out of the dance floor and out of the room, hoping that not many people saw you, but then again, it doesn’t really matter to you. You get to an empty, wide hallway and find a wide couch where you sit, taking off your heels.

“Y/n, what are you doing?” He puts his fists on his hips, chuckling.

“Come here,” You tap the cushion. He chuckles again and joins you, propping his elbow on the back rest, staring at you.

“I just didn’t want everybody looking at us, we’ve been waiting for a moment like this and I don’t want it to be ruined.” You add, putting your legs beneath you, covering them with your long dress. He tilts his head to one side, smiling at you. His blue eyes glow the more you stare at them, and they speak more than anything you could possibly say right now. “You’ve always looked at me like that and I’ve known exactly what you meant.” You reach up to caress his stubble, tracing your thumb along his cheekbone.

“I can’t believe I finally have you, that’s all.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “Come here.” He says, grabbing your waist and pulling you closer to him, until your leg is propped on his lap and he caresses your thigh slow and rhythmically.

“If I fall asleep here, you’re going to have to carry me to Sam’s room, you know.” You say as you rest your head on the backrest and look up at him. He laughs and leans over to kiss you, smiling against your lips.

“I know that, sweetheart.” He nods.

/

Your phone buzzed and buzzed over the bedside table and as sleepy as you were, you couldn’t ignore it. Reaching for your phone, you barely check your notifications, seeing you have countless texts from Sam and a couple missed calls. You realize you’re on 20%, so you decide you’ll text him back whenever you get out of bed and get a charger. Sighing deeply, you shift on your place and stare at the ceiling for a while, thinking of everything that happened the night before and how it all still feels like a dream, like something you’d only made up in your head. With a short glance, you realize he’s still sleeping, rather soundly, and you slowly slide out of the bed, trying not to move him or make any noise. You find your dress lying on the floor, but a dress definitely isn’t a comfortable morning wear, so you put on Bucky’s t-shirt from last night and smile as the smell of his cologne hits your nostrils, still lingering from last night. After having had quite a few drinks and very hasty night, you feel the need to wash your face and clean up a little bit; your makeup still lingers from last night, and it’s not as horrid as you thought it’d be, but you try to remove some stains and whatever makes you look like you woke up with a hangover. You find a little brand-new mouthwash by the sink and use a bit of it, to freshen up. After brushing your hair, you feel you’re now rather decent, and go back to bed. Climbing slowly up the bed, you notice he’s still sleeping and looking so relaxed and at peace. As you cover your body with the duvet, he shifts in his place, sighing deeply as he rubs his eyes with the back of his hands. You watch him as he turns to see you and gives you the biggest smile one can get at this time of the day.

“Good morning.” You smile at him, running your fingers through his hair as he closes his eyes for a second, sighing softly at your touch.

“Morning, doll.” He replies with a deeper voice than you know. “Sleep well?” He asks, with a light frown, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Of course I did, you?” He hums, and props his elbow on the pillow, and you mimic his position.

“I’ll be right back.” He says, getting out of bed and heading to the bathroom wearing only his briefs, letting you admire for a moment his sculpted chest and back, making you curse yourself for waiting so long for this to happen. You assume he went to wash up, too, and as he comes back into the room he stops and frowns. “Are you wearing my t-shirt?” He puts his fists on his hips, making his arms and chest look even better from where you’re sitting.

“Of course I am, I had to get up earlier and it was the first thing I found.” You shrug, and he shakes his head, climbing back on the bed. Both of you sit on the bed, crossing your legs and you stretch out your arms, feeling your back relax right after.

“I must have like five hundred texts from Sam.” He runs a hand through his still messy hair.

“I’m sure I have twice that.” You roll your eyes, thinking about every single joke Sam must be making up right now, saving them for the moment he sees you and Bucky together. Wait…are you two together? What did last night mean? Did it mean anything at all? Your head’s filled with all the questions you’ve wanted to avoid all this time and clearly your face can’t hide your concern.

“Y/N, are you okay?” You shake your head and smile at him, trying to hide whatever’s bugging you.

“Yeah, I was just, um…thinking about…” He stares at you, his eyes glistening in the way they always do when he’s around you. He always looks you in the eye when he listens to you, he’s a great listener. You gaze at him for a moment and remember every single moment he’s made you feel as if you’re floating, of every time you thought of him when buying a CD or a record and how he would like it when he borrowed it from you, when you watched him make Sarah her favorite waffles and every Saturday breakfast you shared. There was nothing you could do, you were in love with Bucky Barnes.

“About…what an idiot I am for taking so long to…do this.” He leans over and kisses you, a deep but short kiss, resting his hand on your neck.

“Are you sure? Is that it?” He frowns, caressing your cheek with his thumb. You nod give him a small smile.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” You sigh and gaze at him for yet another moment, relishing in the peace of this moment. “I had a lot of fun last night…but…” You take a second to think and finally realize that there’s something you need to say now before it’s too late. “I’m scared of hurting you and Sarah, of getting involved in that small family you have there and messing it all up.”

“Y/N, doll, you’re not gonna hurt us, I want to be with you.” He takes your hands in his. “I can take care of myself…and Sarah. And all I know is that being with you is what I’ve wanted since you recommended all those CD’s and records at the store that day.” You narrow your eyes at him, unable to hide the smile he just caused on you.

“Really? Ever since that day?”

“Well, if you didn’t like me that day, then I didn’t like you either.” He holds up his hands. He makes you chuckle; he always makes you laugh. You grab a pillow and hit his head gently, making him fake an Ouch! and hit you back, messing up your hair.

“What are you, eight?” You laugh at him, fixing your hair and faking a judgmental face.

“I have a daughter younger than that, you know.” You chuckle, look down at your knotted fingers, thinking about how someone could ever walk away from him and Sarah and the wonderful home they make, then again, you don’t even know what happened with her, you don’t know who she is, how they met and how he ended up getting Sarah. You barely know anything about them and all the uncertainty has caused you the fear you feel right now.

“Y/N, honey, I still feel like there’s something you’re not telling me.” He says, making you look up at him. “Is it about Sarah?”

“No!” You quickly reply. “No, it’s not Sarah, I…I love that kid.” You assure him. “It’s just the fact that you’re a single dad and…that I still don’t know anything about…”

“Her mother?” He frowns, and it strikes you that maybe this wasn’t the moment to bring that up. You frown, too, nodding but he remains silent for a moment.

“You don’t have to tell me, it’s just that what’s held me back is that I don’t know enough about you and your story and you don’t know a lot of things about me either…”

“I want to tell you, Y/N.” he cuts you off. “I’ve been meaning to tell you but the moments weren’t right or I was afraid of doing it.”

“Which is exactly why you don’t have to tell me, Buck. I’m just always full of fears, even about things that feel…more than right.” You pause. “I don’t want to spoil this moment and last night, so let’s not talk about this for a moment.”

“I just…don’t want you to ever feel afraid of anything when you’re with me.” More than being crystal blue, Bucky’s eyes had a truth and emotion in them that you had never seen before. You’ve trusted people, you’ve believed in somebody’s good heart but not like this.

|Tagging some people I haven't talked to in a while but that I really appreciate (feel free to ask me to remove your tag)

@stuckonjbbarnes @mushyjellybeans @honeyvbarnes @babblingbonky @mrwinterr @valkyriesryde @mypassionsarenysins @livyourextralife

Permanent taglist: @imma-new-soul

Fic taglist: @eliza5616 @jamesbarnesappreciationclub @93generation

@shawnie--jo @cheeseedreams47

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 20

First time reader click here

TWs/SUMMARY: Explicit content. Some fluffy Bruce Banner lovin'. We know our scientist is a soft dom/service top. 🥺💚 With a Tony twist at the end... Because I am an evil woman. 😏 BRUCE BANNER MONSTERCOCK NATION RISE!

Bruce licked his lips.

Despite the obvious intent to ravish me in the sweetest way possible, Bruce made no move to undress or get physically closer to me.

The man was content to kiss the breath out of me, lightly caressing the side of my face and my neck. With each shared, rushed inhale I slipped deeper into the narrow space between drowsiness and arousal. The scientist's presence had the most peculiar effect on me: all my walls crumbled, paving way to a sense of mellow tranquility.

"Lay down," Bruce whispered, pulling my blanket aside. My skin tingled in the cool air of the room. I had gotten pretty toasty under the covers.

With his palms gently pushing on my shoulders, I had no other way but to oblige. Those very same large hands brushed my neck and slid further under the collar of my shirt, tenderly tracing the lines of my collarbones. I felt delicate in his arms, light-headed.

The quiet thud of Bruce's shoes prepared me for the slight dip in the mattress that followed. With a rustle, the textured fabric of his trousers sweeped and finally settled between my parted legs. He radiated warmth, my body involuntarily arching into it. Bruce's lips found mine, again, meeting in a chaste kiss, moving on to nip and peck my jawline, my throat.

There was something erotic in the slow, sensual yet subdued way the scientist was giving into my desires. He wasn't holding back on purpose, it seemed he was rather fond of taking his time to explore my body, his new playground. It was always hard and fast and easy for me, to just take my pleasure, get it torn out of me with sharp words and clever fingers.

With Bruce it was more of a gradual increase in intensity. He wasn't all over me yet he made it known he was in charge. Our bodies connected only faintly but where they did, it left a sweet, pulling ache. I caught myself leaning into it, following the slow motions with twitches and curves of my own.

"Arms up, Princess," He sounded so calm and steady. There was a new definition to his voice, that low undertone of desire, previously unheard. I marveled at how different my lovers sounded.

My (read: stolen from Tony) t-shirt slid from my shoulders with his help, immediately getting neatly placed next to my pillow. I wore no bra; the regret at not wearing fancier panties had been already lived through by me the moment Bruce's lips first landed on mine. For some reason, I was convinced he wasn't the kind of man to care about the amount or the retail price of the lace on my underwear.

I decided to finally open my eyes.

Bruce sat on his shins in front of me, one intense furious blush the only indicator he was affected by our activities. Seeing his eyes - I had to take that back. Devils danced in his green-ish orbs. The man was enjoying himself, quite a lot.

"Off?" Words and other trivial things I didn't worry about anymore. I tugged on his button-up to indicate my own want to see him, to finally see that firm chest that had inadvertently acted as a pillow for me to cry on more than one occasion recently.

Button by button, Bruce was either teasing or provoking me. Which was fine, for once I was happy to fully relinquish the reigns of the situation to someone else. The man was, and I am not exaggerating, perfect under all those frumpy clothes. Bulky chest with coarse dark hair - I wanted to run my hands through it, all over him.

His shirt landed right next to mine and he came close, mouthing leisurely at the space between my breasts, covering my chest with the warm moisture of his breath. Hot and wet wrapped around my nipple just as my eyes drifted closed again. Arching into the bliss, I moaned softly.

And any other time I'd be embarrassed at how soft and kitten-like was the sound; then, however, I was ready to yowl if that meant he wouldn't stop. One nipple and then the other. Bruce didn't apply anything but gentle pressure. His tongue made a slow, deliberate circle around my navel, dipping into the sensitive spot. I was surprised, my hips twitching. I had no idea it could be so pleasant.

The man's soft chuckles were absorbed by my panties where his breath ghosted over my core. My squirming increased as I was no longer able to contain my excitement, my body remembering on it's own how good Tony was with his tongue, bringing me extasy - he ate me for what felt like hours when he felt I did something exceptionally well. I'd be a rotten liar if I told you that alone wasn't motivation enough to excel at everything.

"I can see you like that, Princess," Bruce observed in quiet joy, moving instead to rub his cheek on the inside of my thigh, the slight stubble producing just enough friction for me to get slightly wetter. Beards were just hot.

"Mhmm," I agreed with him, raking a gentle hand through his unruly mop of curls. Bruce groaned and I continued to steadily part his hair, loving the muted noises coming from the scientist, enjoying his breath returning to elicit shivers all over my lower body.

The gusset of my underwear was promptly moved aside, exposing me to his eyes. I've never felt an ounce of shyness with a man but it seemed that day was one of firsts for me. It was the most exposed and vulnerable I'd ever felt; like a door pried open, my inner world for anyone to see. The urge to close my legs and hide under the blankets overcame me.

"Such a pretty pussy, Princess," Bruce's voice was even rougher now, scratching.

An open-mouthed smooch was placed on my lower lips, a nimble tongue slowly stroking experimental lines through my folds. The man purposely avoided the clit, I was sure. He dove down multiple times to my entrance, lapping up my juices with an obscene noise. A lewd moan followed every time. My hips met his mouth with every movement.

My shameful freak-out was abruptly cut short by the devotion Bruce radiated. His hands firmly gripped my thighs securing his meal in the right place. And eating he was; like a starved man, the scientist followed the noises leaving my mouth to find each and every nook and cranny that made me feel closer to Eden. There was no finesse, only slippery, sloppy movements as I reached my first peak with his name leaving my lips in a strangled moan.

I was boneless, weightless. Bruce pushed me more, delving straight back into the oversensitive folds of my cunt like he hadn't just made me see stars and galaxies. Floating in time in space, not a coherent thought in my skull, my last functioning brain cell on it's long overdue vacation.

"How do you feel?" He asked me once he deemed me sufficiently removed from this plane of existence and deposited me somewhere on another world where everything was light and easy.

"Mm-Brucie," I tried to articulate my thoughts. He must've been painfully aroused himself yet he made no move to be intimate any further. The idea of him holding back and refusing his own gratification nagged at me unpleasantly, invoking a primal hunger deep in my belly. "C'mere, want you."

He climbed over on top of me slowly, stretching his limbs, caging me in the sweet trap of his arms. His pants were gone; I felt the hardness, very sizeable hardness budge against my hip. My breath caught in my throat as I stared at him with unseeing eyes and my mouth hanging open slightly.

We kissed lazily for a while, me finally having the chance to roam my hands on his body. He was almost as warm as Bucky - a perk of his own knock-off serum, I supposed. Reasonably toned with a healthy layer of fat, Bruce certainly wasn't ripped or even built like Tony. Banner's body screamed comfort and safety where Tony was all strength and durability. Once again, I marveled at the difference between the two men, finding them both equally appealing and beautiful in their own ways.

Bruce's boxers went to hell and beyond. He was easily the biggest partner I've ever had; both long and thick, my insides clenched involuntarily at the weight of it in my hand, the engorged veins all over the shaft. No time like the present - hiking a leg over his hip, I insistently pressed the leaking tip of his cock against me, swiping it through my folds for extra lubrication beforehand.

The scientist twitched, growling quietly, low and dangerous. "Princess," Bruce hissed, momentarily dropping his forehead onto my shoulder.

"Brucie," I replied breathily, feeling him shudder as the tip breached my entrance. The sting was slightly south of pleasurable, just enough to give me an edge and return to reality. "You're so big," I gasped. The very room I and Bruce were (what felt like) making love. Such a foreign concept. "For the love of both God and Satan, move."

"That's my girl." Giving a watery chuckle, the man obliged, sheathing himself fully within me. I was unprepared for the surge of pleasure - it felt like he was everywhere at the same time. It was unlike everything I'd felt, the burn of the stretch becoming a source of new heights of pleasure.

Bruce's shallow thrusts increased in speed and amplitude as soon as I arched my back, presenting all of myself at his mercy. His movements weren't pounding yet he shook me with every single shift of his hips. "Fuck, so good, my sweet girl," He kept muttering, barely audible. "So tight, so hot, oh God."

The praise only made me clench tighter around him, my orgasm rapidly approaching and finally crashing into both of us with a firm, steady force. His cock throbbed inside me, releasing the seed with force I swear I felt in my guts. I took it all, milking every single drop, there was so much of it. Bruce's release - this one - belonged to me and to me only.

Ever mindful of himself, Bruce rolled over, pressing as close to me as possible, throwing an arm over his eyes. I immediately relocated to make a nest on his chest, idly running my hand through his chest hair. Fascinating.

"Feel good?" And finally he sounded slightly winded. Wow, I couldn't help but wonder what could make him really lose it. What would make him go feral for me. What could trap his breath in his lungs and attach him to me forever.

"Mmm, amazing. You're good at this," My usual snark and sass was returning; I gently teased him. Lovingly.

"That's good to know, it's been a while," He snorted. Must've felt my confusion, too, because the next sentence threw me for a loop: "It's been, uh, years."

Years? For this man?! The universe was unfair. Depriving the entirety of female sex of this man? Abhorrent. "You have quite some things to catch up on," I whispered coyly. "Humbly do I offer my services."

His chest began shaking: Bruce was laughing, no trace of shame, just good-natured relief and happiness in his features. "This is exactly why we love you, Princess. You say the weirdest shit but somehow it all makes perfect sense."

I chuckled, the words spreading warmth - not the physical one - throughout my body and lulling me into a sense of sated exhaustion. I let my eyes fall shut on their own and for the first time in ages, I fell asleep with a calm heart.

Bruce's soft snores kept the bad dreams at bay.

Tony's callous hands roused me tenderly, coaxing the sleep from my brain with grace although there was very little grace about the situation; first thing I noticed upon waking was the sticky puddle between my legs and the sharp smell of sex in the room. Bruce's slightly spicy sweat mixed with the warm vanilla of my perfume. The messed up bedsheets and the warm but empty space next to me.

"Had fun, baby girl?" If Tony's lopsided grin was any indication, I had at least committed some sort of scientific breakthrough. "You know, I had a bet running on when Bruce was going to break his celibacy. If you had waited until next year, which is technically in a few months..." The engineer trailed off teasingly, looking not at all worried about the fact that his best friend had blown my brains out a... Few hours ago.

I cleared my throat. "So, who won?" It seemed only appropriate I ask.

Tony's face immediately fell. "Merlin."

My eyebrows rose. "Didn't take him for the gambling kind." I sat up in bed, stretching the stiffness out of my joints, clearing the sleep from my head with Tony's gaze firmly glued to my naked tits. Some things never change.

"You called him old. That does things to a man's ego," Tony answered dismissively. It was easy to see the obvious pleasure he held for that particular conversation: the billionaire greatly enjoyed it when people gave into his antics and indulged his sometimes childish vices. One of those vices happened to include annoying the resident wizard.

I decided to test the waters. Biting my lip, I gave him an appreciative once-over. "How are you on sloppy seconds?"

He clicked his tongue, eyes sparkling, obviously having expected this question. "I'll join you in the shower. We have thirty minutes before Clint sends Nat down here to retrieve us deviants."

I pranced in the direction of the bathroom, putting an extra wiggle in my walk.

Turns out, Tony had absolutely no problems with sloppy seconds. He was as eager to hold me by my hair, viciously pumping his cock out of me, whispering utter filth into my ear.

His honeyed voice rough, telling me how dirty I was. "You little tart, parading around, making old men drool over you. Fuck, you make me feel like a dirty old man."

I let the sassy remark to be drowned in the sound of his hips slapping against my ass. "I love dirty old men," I moaned. "Want me to get down on my knees for you, daddy?"

"Fuck," Tony's hand tightened in my hair but he made no move to cease the assault on my pussy with his cock. It was steel-hard, deliciously thick and hit all the right places without much effort.

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