#because 'something went wrong. try again?'

[loomingspector]

Dc x Dp story prompt pt. 2

The same vein as my other post here

But what if Damian and Danny was the same age, I really love that trope too, that they’re basically twins how close in age they are, maybe just a few days, MAX a week or so.

When Damian comes back to the family, Bruce gets a whole new kind of paranoid again. He kinda stopped the whole sleeping around phase when he got the kids, since Dick (wanting to kill people) kinda took up a lot of his free time. And after that the kids just kept coming so he didn’t really get into it again.

But then Damian came into it, and he was like “wait, have I checked the DNA database the last few years??” And goes down into the cave to do a country wide DNA analysis on DNA on file, both in police/hospitals and the whole nine yards. (Cause he’s extra like that)

And then he find that in just about the same time he was SA’ed by Talia, he got really drunk at a science charity event in Amity Park, maybe to get rid of his stress of it all, and because Bruce would rather die than cope with his problems in a healthy way, and released some energy by being with the Fenton couple, who seemed sane enough (at the time).

The Fenton’s knew that Danny was Wayne’s but then decided that they kinda just wanted him themselves, and then got really into GiW and ghost hunting, and then kinda forgot to tell Wayne.

So now Bruce has to juggle with the fact that Talia hid away Damian, and the Fentons fucking forgot to tell him that they have his son.

He goes to Amity Park to find his son, who’s basically in the same situation as Tim, barely acknowledged by his parents and left to his own devices with his sister.

Bruce being Bruce goes, welp, might as well get custody of them both. Legally he should be able to when Danny confesses to the illegal machines in the basement that killed him. So the couple is deemed unfit to care for the two, then minors.

Problem is:

Danny and Jazz doesn’t really want to leave Amity Park.

Solution:

Buy a second mansion in Amity Park and make that the home they move into, with servants vetted by the Waynes, and security on par with the White House.

They can live there until they finish school, and they’re free to choose what happens after that, go to Gotham and be with the family, maybe Gotham university, or anything else.

Bruce is just happy that they’re not in the cape business like the rest of his kids…

Danny doesn’t know Bruce is Batman, so he has to be extra careful to not expose himself as a hero to them, and also not drag them into the ghost realm and ghost fighting. And also, wtf is wrong with the ectoplasm in the Jason kid?? (He a ghost too??)

But he also really likes the idea of an actually caring family, I mean, Bruce went out of his way to not uproot his life and makes sure they can choose whatever future they want, even if that doesn’t include him. Hell he even took Jazz in, who isn’t even his kid.

His new siblings seem fun, caring and like they actually care, making an effort to help him understand that being neglected by his parents isn’t his fault. Tim and him finding comradeship in both of their experiences with it. Dick is just overly protective and seems like he’s trying to genuinely get to know him. Making sure not to pressure the two new siblings too much, but also organizing siblings bonding time.

Bruce of course doesn’t know yet that Danny is a vigilante, so he has to juggle wanting to learn about these new kids, as well as hide them away from his Brucie persona, so they can live normal lives.

He’ll just ignore the way Constantine is brushing things off his shoulders every time they’re in the watchtower together, mumbling something about a ‘dark energy’ clinging to him. But he always says weird shit.

So what happens when a giant ghost fight occurs in Amity, Bruce is notified and comes to rescue his kid in full Batman gear, Danny is gone and Jazz won’t tell him where he is, cause why the fuck does Batman care.

Danny is just confused why the entire Justice league is suddenly in Amity, and why the fuck The Batman™️ is running around looking for his human form.

Identity crisis at its finest.

[softheartedsadist]

Usually... if I have a dream I remember, it was a stupidly detailed and involved dream. To the point where if I'm dreaming, I automatically know it's a dream, but I go along with it anyway because I want to know what happens.

The last dream I had that I remember was last week...

I was a little girl in some fantasy Medieval period, an orphan because my parents died of the plague. I was sickly in appearance and rumors started among the other kids that I was cursed and got my own parents sick. As such, my only friend was this really sweet little boy.

The rumors spread, however, to the point that adults caught on. They started thinking I was cursed, or a demon, or a witch, and that I was responsible for the plague. They decided to burn me at the stake to cleanse the plague.

The boy helped me escape and visited my hiding spot every day to bring supplies, but then he stopped coming. I snuck into the town and found that he had gotten sick with the plague.

The villagers were wrong, I wasn't responsible for the plague, but I was actually a witch. To save my one friend I cast a spell and walked through the town drawing all the plague into myself, curing everybody, but dooming myself. I died that very day in the abandoned mill I had been hiding in.

When the boy found my body he buried me. Mushrooms grew amid my bones.

Then a time skip and suddenly I was some perpetually serene middle-aged hunter-type man named Aeson. The world had descended into a zombie apocalypse type setting because a ring of necromancer sorcerers were trying to take over the world.

For some reason, despite it being fantasy Europe, I had a greek name, and I fought with a wakizashi and naginata... IDK. There were even classifications of zombies, the lowest were fresh their bodies and bones softened to allow for mutation, which made them easy to kill. Then as mutation set in, they'd grow weird bones spikes and the bones would start to harden again. Then they might start developing exoskeleton armor, so the zombies would get harder and harder to kill. There were also fungal-type zombies who were faster and more flexible and harder to hit, that could regenerate unless the head was destroyed or they were burned.

Anyway, I was out on a mission to control the zombie population of the area, find supplies and survivors, and maybe get far enough to find more civilizations. Slicing through zombies left and right. When my second in command came running up. I knew something was wrong because as the top fighters, one or the other of us was always at the camp for defense. He shouted that the zombies had broken through our barricade.

We tried to hurry back, but suddenly the forest was full of zombies and I knew then that something had changed. This was an organized attack!

Our camp was set in an old mansion on top of a hill, we'd walled all around except for a narrow bridge over a river. The wall had been breached and the survivor's I'd been caring for were now barricading the mansion doors. To flank, I went to the bridge and was met by a new zombie. Half of its body looked charred and melted, the other half was fungal type, but the look in its eyes was intelligent. It spoke to me, telling me that we were done for. When I slashed at it with my sword it burst into ash and floated away, reforming clinging to the underside of the bridge like a humanoid spider, laughing. I stabbed it again as I passed and it faded away.

My second in command and I ran into battle, clearing away enough zombies that we were able to get inside the mansion before a new wave hit. I sent my second to lead everyone to the escape zipline and made for the attic where our doctor was. Up there we had a patient, a woman in a coma, heavily pregnant, the doctor would not be able to escape with her on his own. The woman was beyond our ability to save with so little resources; we would have mercy killed her, but we were waiting to give the child a chance.

The stairs were blocked by zombies, trying to get up to the attic, so I had to go out on a balcony and climb up the outside of the building to get to the attic window. The burnt zombie reappeared as I climbed, I got the feeling that it was something of an astral projection of one of the sorcerers as it never attacked me and none of my attacks harmed it. It told me that the child was theirs, that they had found the remains of the plague witch (who I'd been in the first half of my dream) and planted her in the woman to be reborn. He told me that then they would use magic to twist the girl into their champion and then nothing could stop them from taking over the world as the plague bound to her bones would make them unstoppable.

I got to the roof and the doctor let me in the window. The woman was in labor, but due to the coma and extensive injuries, couldn't give birth properly. She would need a C-section. I gathered supplies while the doctor got to work. It was successful, though the doctor was shocked and concerned by the odd boney ridges the baby was adorned with. At the baby's first cry the zombies fell silent, then redoubled their attempts to break in.

I tied the baby to me with a blanket, slung a bag of medical supplies over my shoulder, then helped the doctor climb out onto the roof just as the zombies finally broke through.

We made it to the escape zipline....

And then I woke up.

If this were a show, would watch.

It has accidental-baby-acquisition, a great queer-platonic gay relationship set up between the doctor and the warrior as they raise this necromancy witch girl together, teaching her both healing and fighting while protecting her from the evil sorcerers.... She gets a good family experience while they refuse to let her be roped into being anyone's champion or 'chosen one' against her will because they want her to choose her own future.

She looks like a living zombie, so there's the possibility of issues with other standard humans. She's also a witch... maybe she'd figure out her magic on her own, maybe she'd need to find someone to teach her.

I think she'd remember her previous life, too, since she'd been ressurected.

[blank-potato]

You Cast A Spell On All My Nights And Days

Pairing: Bob Reynolds x Witch!Reader

Summary:

“You could tear down cities with what’s inside you. But instead, you shackle it for people who will never understand it. Who will never understand you.” The implication is all too clear. “Who will never understand you like I do.” You tense. He wants something. Power, connection and most of all, you. “You don’t know me,” you spit back, as if to ward him off.  But he doesn't flinch, nor does he smirk. “I’d like to,” he responds, and it’s surprisingly soft. Or After your last encounter, The Void is still haunting your every thought, and you're still toying with one another. But, after a mission sends you spiralling, he gives you a nudge in the wrong direction.

Tags/Warnings: The Void is a bad influence and trying to bring you to the dark side (he's like 'Palpatine'-ing you), reader has arrived at manipulation station, Bob being cute, The Void being toxic but kinda sweet, little angst, reader's guilt/self-condemnation, no smut

WC: 3.0k

A/N: Title from Magic Ways by Tatsuro Yamashita again. This is part 2 of I Love The Girl With Magic Ways, linked below. I thought about writing smut, but then I didn't because I thought it was too soon, so I might write a final part with smut later idk

Part 1

✷✷✷

“You look like you haven’t slept.”

“I haven’t,” You answer before diving back into your fifth cup of coffee as Bob looks at you like you’re insane. 

He didn’t understand, if you wanted to beat The Void at his own game, you had to be vigilant. You had to deprive him of you, to make him want you that much more. Even if it meant staying awake so he couldn’t snake his way into your mind while your defences were down. 

“Ready to…” You take a particularly long blink, “... train?”

Bob thought it was kind of cute, the way you were still trying to act sharp, your head bobbing back and forth. But he was worried about you; he didn’t want to see you exhausted. “You need to sleep.”

“Sleep?” You scoff, flashing him a cocky grin. “I eat sleep for breakfast, Bob.”

Those words might’ve landed better if you weren’t, at that exact moment, sliding down the wall like a dying plant. You end up flat on your back, staring up at the ceiling, wondering when exactly it all went wrong.

Then you’re not on the ground anymore.

You blink twice before realising Bob is holding you, steady and strong as he lifts you without effort. You successfully defeat the urge to snuggle into his shirt and instead put your efforts into squirming.

“…I need to train you,” you mumble.

He just huffs a laugh, adjusting his grip.

“We can train once you can stand on your own two feet.”

He carries you back to your room, his movements gentle, like he’s afraid you’ll break. Bob always treated you with grace and care. Sure, he knew what you could do, but that didn’t stop him from trying to take care of you. Despite your cold exterior, he always seemed to find a way through; your walls weren't so high around him.

He doesn’t stop until you’re lying in your sheets, all snuggled up. They wrap around you like a warm hug from a cloud.

“My coffee…,” you mumble, a tired little whine escaping your lips.

“Sleep is better than caffeine,” he replies, tucking the blanket around you with a smirk.

You blink slowly, already fading, your limbs heavy, your mind lighter. But even as sleep pulls you under, you’re still aware.

The Void might be waiting for you the moment your eyes close.

✷✷✷

“You’ve missed me,” a voice says, and you know exactly who it is; exactly who can make themselves so at home in the darkness of your mind.

“You’re the one that’s invading my dreams,” you retort. Most times when you slept, you’d get a visit from him, warping your mind, sending you into twisted visions and half-buried memories, mostly bad. The kind you tried not to revisit during the day. He knew you wouldn’t do the same to him, for fear of hurting someone else. Sweet, innocent Bob.

It was unfair, the way The Void prowled through your subconscious like it belonged to him. The push and pull between you was too addictive to give up, but too exhausting to maintain. So even with a full night’s sleep, you often woke up feeling like you’d been dragged through a battlefield.

And still, you couldn’t deny you’d feel a flicker of disappointment if he didn’t show up. But you had to keep him chasing. You were winning…for now. 

“Well, maybe I’ve missed you,” he murmurs, the faintest curl of amusement in his tone. “Running after you is fun and all, but as I’ve told you before…”

You feel him before you hear the rest. His body pressing close, voice right against your ear.

“I don’t want to play games.”

You remain unaffected, or at least, you pretend to be, your expression unreadable. “Giving up?” you tease, smirking at him, even though your pulse betrays you, thudding hard beneath your skin.

“Changing strategies,” he replies smoothly.

And in the next breath, you're falling backwards, the darkness folding and reshaping itself into something softer. A bed of shadow and silk.

He's over you now, leaning in, his golden eyes aglow, scanning your face like a map he's trying to commit to memory.

"You—" you start to speak, but he silences you before the words can escape.

His thumb presses lightly to your lips, quieting you with a touch.

“Not now.” The air thickens. Heat building between your bodies as you arch slightly beneath him, even though you’re dreaming. It’s all too real. His hands press yours into the soft, shadow-formed mattress, anchoring you there. There’s no hiding from him now.

He can see everything. Every want, every fear. He always could, even though you ran and resisted, and he chased. He knew you’d end up here, your mind at his mercy.

You feel exposed, but not weak. No, being close to him feels like it’s charging you.

He lets out a soft, low chuckle against your jawline as he dips lower, mouth almost touching your neck, but not quite giving you what you need. 

"What did you say? Until I’ve had enough?” He throws your words from that night back at you, taunting, savouring the way you react. Maybe you weren’t winning anymore. 

You blink awake.

It’s dark.

Bob had taken the liberty of closing your blackout curtains, the soft grey light barely breaking through.  You flip on your desk lamp to see what he’d left you. There’s a tray beside the bed with bacon, waffles and a glass of orange juice, along with a sticky note, “Please eat!”, with a little lopsided smiley face drawn beside it.

Your heart squeezes. How could The Void possibly be part of someone so sweet?

✷✷✷

It’s a shitty night after a shitty mission.

Everything went wrong, and worse, you let them get away.

You’re stewing alone in the silence, bitter and regretful. The team told you you did the best you could, that it wasn’t your fault. But whose fault could it be when you had them right in front of you? Deep down, you know the truth: if you’d just pushed a little harder, maybe you could’ve stopped them.

You don’t hear him approach. Just the soft weight of a hand on your shoulder.

His presence in the dark is warm and familiar now, but not quite comforting. 

“I’m not in the mood,” you say, short, clipped. But you don’t shrug him off.

He moves in front of you, gently turning you by the shoulders, trying to catch your eyes. You avoid him, but it doesn’t matter. He looks at you like he sees right through you. 

“You’re angry,” he says quietly.

“Great deduction skills, Sherlock,” you bite back.

There's a beat of silence as he winds up his response.

“And you’re ashamed of it,” He taunts. You knew exactly what he thought of your attempt at heroics, of your efforts to bury the rage, to smother it beneath ideals and restraint.

It was weakness.

He steps closer, his voice dropping into that dangerously tender register.

“You could tear down cities with what’s inside you. But instead, you shackle it for people who will never understand it. Who will never understand you.”

The implication is all too clear.

“Who will never understand you like I do.”

You tense. He wants something. Power, connection and most of all, you.

“You don’t know me,” you spit back, as if to ward him off. 

But he doesn't flinch, nor does he smirk. “I’d like to,” he responds, and it’s surprisingly soft.

You're far more used to the snark, his thinly veiled seduction. You were used to that, you knew how to combat that. But this? You didn’t know he was capable of this. 

He steps further into your space, and you can feel your heart pounding in your chest. 

“Anger isn’t something to hide from,” he says, his hands curling gently around yours. “It’s something to use.”

Your chest rises and falls as the emotion wells up, everything that went wrong today, everything you wanted to do better. The frustration, the doubt, the fear. You let it rise, no longer pushing it down. And with it, your magic surges, wild, untamed, swirling around both your hands in arcs.

It sparks against the air like a storm barely held in check.

Then you feel it, that whisper, that familiar chill brushing against your ear like breath.

“Beautiful,” The Void says.

✷✷✷

You can’t sleep.

Not after what you did today.

It was a mess, a mission gone wrong. You’d lost control of the situation, of yourself, and it’s eating at you. All you could think about on the quinjet to the mission site was the last time you’d failed. The fact that you failed meant that people got hurt.  And you weren’t going to let anyone get away next time, no matter what it took.

You curl in on yourself, wrapped in the hollow hush of your room. Hugging your knees to your chest, fists clenched tight against the fabric of your pants. You wanted to cry, to scream, to break something, but you wouldn’t let yourself. What would that fix? Instead, you just sit there, staring at your lamp like it might offer answers. Slow blinks. Breathing in silence.

When The Void appears, it’s not shocking. You’d almost expected him. Your guard isn’t completely down, but it is damaged. He takes in your diminished form and lets out a sigh. 

“Come here,” he says softly, the command barely more than a breath.

You say nothing. Just glare at him, lips pressed into a line, and roll your eyes with all the exhausted fury you can muster.

Then, before you can protest, you’re pulled out of bed in a blink of darkness and into his arms, your feet unsteady on the ground.

“Classy,” you mutter with a brittle voice.

But your resistance doesn’t last long, because it’s clear you’re in no position to fight. And he wasn’t looking for one either.

He tips your head up towards him, forcing you to look at him. In those few seconds of eye contact, he knew exactly what had happened. That’s if he didn’t already know before he even entered the room.

“You did nothing wrong.”

Of course, he’d say that. Of course, he would think that hurting someone meant nothing to him. He thrived on it. You flinch slightly, trying to step away, to put any distance between you and the guilt still clinging to your skin.

But he catches your wrists before you can push him away, his grip firm but not cruel. Just enough to stop you, and lets go as soon as he feels your body relax. 

He circles slowly, a predator at ease, until he’s behind you. Close enough that you feel the heat of him, or maybe the chill. Like a blanket draped over your shoulders.

Then, with no hesitation, he tugs the neck of your shirt aside, exposing skin. You’re on high alert, but you don’t stop him, wanting to know where this was going to go. 

He lays one slow, deliberate kiss to the nape of your neck. Your fist clenches and unclenches, as you try and ignore how that makes you feel. 

“You did nothing wrong,” he says again, quieter now.

Now he starts kissing the side of your neck, just the faintest brush of lips, like feathers on your skin. The danger danced in your mind, you knew what he could do, but you found yourself pushing it aside. He wanted to sink into his darkness rather than run from it. 

“If they cared about you, they wouldn’t ask you to hold back.”

You knew they cared. Bob. The others. They did. But the ache in you, the part that always felt restrained, twisted at his words.

“This is who you are,” he whispered.

The more logical part of your brain was screaming. Don’t listen, don’t trust him. But the rest of you, the part still vibrating from the taste of power…it was excited. 

“He begged… I… I didn’t have to hurt him like that,” you say, voice cracking, unable to be hidden.  You try to hold it together, he was the last person you wanted to catch you slipping. 

“But it felt good, didn’t it?” The Void adds. It’s like he’s reading your mind, everything you keep hidden now staring back at you. 

You shake your head, trying to deny it, but the truth prickles under your skin. You know it did. That rush. That control. The sheer, terrifying ease of it.

“He’ll never be the same.” You look down at your hands, as if they still held the echoes of what you’d done. It had come so easily, forcing him to his knees, hearing the screams that tore from his throat, twisting his mind until he didn’t know which way was up.

The whole time, it felt like you could feel The Void all around you. Guiding your hands, not telling you where to push, but urging you to keep going until they broke. 

The Void is beside you now, his presence cold but intimate. “Don’t be afraid of what you’re capable of,” he whispers in your ear, the words curling into your soul. “Accept it.”

You bet he wanted to know you, to know what made you tick, what lit that fire behind your eyes, what shadows you kept buried beneath the surface. And you couldn’t lie, not to yourself: You were just as curious about him.

But this was a dangerous path.

The line between fascination and destruction would blur fast with someone like him.

He turns you around to face him, and as soon as you look at him, it’s electric. 

“Let me in.”

His voice echoes in your mind, it’s almost hypnotising. 

It’s not a demand, a request. He wanted you to come to him of your own will; he wouldn’t force you to walk this path, but he knew you would. Your pulse kicks in your throat. You could push him away, in fact, you should push him away. But your hands don’t move. Your body doesn’t pull back.

You just look up at him and say, “Why should I?”

“Because all the fear, and anger… and ugliness you’re so afraid of is beautiful,” he explains slowly. “It’s you. And I—” he pauses, shaking his head, like the admission costs him something.

“You’re the only thing in this world that’s ever made me want to stay.”

Looking up at the ceiling, he chuckles hollowly, almost as if he can’t believe it himself, “Isn’t that funny?”

When he looks at you, he sees power. Wild, untamed, aching to be unleashed. But more than that… He sees the restraint, the fear, the humanity you still cling to like a lifeline.

He wonders if he could strip it away.

You’re strong, he knows that. He’s seen it. But you’re human. And humans break. And he wants to break you.

Not out of cruelty or hatred. But because some dark, twisted part of him believes that if he broke you enough, if he shattered that stubborn sense of righteousness, he could have you to himself.

If you were broken, too, maybe you’d stop pretending. 

The silence stretches, the air between you shimmering like a live wire.

“You’re not going to say anything?” he asks. He didn’t want to wait for your words, but he was hanging on to each one. He hated feeling like this, being helpless in any way.

“I think I’m afraid of what I want to say.”

You watch as his signature smile curls its way onto his face before he says, “Then show me instead.”

His gaze is expectant but hungry. You were no less hungry than he was. With a flick of your fingers, you tug him closer with your magic, resting your hand over his heart. Staring into his golden eyes, less intimidating than the first time you saw them, and more beautiful now, in a way that made your chest ache. You still didn’t know what to make of him.

And maybe it was foolish… But you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him.

At first, he didn’t move. Like he wasn’t sure it was real.

You don’t even quite know how to describe it… like you’re melting into him, like the edges of you blur where he begins. You breathe in sharply, your hands start glowing faintly with power, against his back. It’s dangerous, some might consider it an abomination, but it was yours.

You pull back to look at him, the magic flowing between the two of you; you’re close. Too close. Close enough to kiss.

“You really want this? Me?” You ask firmly, despite your reservations. Being vulnerable didn’t come easily to you, but something about him made you want to risk it all. 

“I do.”

His eyes are already on yours, dark and hungry but patient, like he knows he doesn’t have to rush. You aren’t sure who’s leaning in first, but suddenly you’re kissing him, deeply, fiercely.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, gripping like you’re afraid he might vanish if you let go. He pushes you back against the wall, his hands exploring your body with need and desperation. It’s rough and consuming, like you can’t get enough of each other, like the kiss is the only thing keeping you alive. The tension that’s been building between you ignites, and the room answers with it.

The overhead lights flicker and spark, surging with the wild thrum of your power. Somewhere in the background, glass fractures with a soft crack, unable to hold the pressure of what you’ve unleashed together.

Still, neither of you pulls away.

You didn’t trust him.

Not with your mind, and definitely not with your soul.

You’re not even sure your heart would allow it. But you wanted him, it was undeniable, a fact at this point. Every part of you, from the twinkle in your eyes to the power at your fingertips, you wanted him. And some twisted, dangerous part of you didn’t care what it might cost.

He made you feel alive.

Main Masterlist || Marvel(Thunderbolts) Masterlist

[jackoquako]

Burning from the Inside

Yan! Batfamily x neglected! male! meta! Reader

Chapter three: All Your Fault

I do look through the interactions with my fic and block profiles that only use she/her or say “cis girl”.

Summary: Jason dies, and you don't have anyone to blame but yourself. Word Count: 2239 Reading Time: 9:25 (mins:secs) Notes: Ughhhh. I promise i did mean for this to go up sooner, but writer's block kicked my ass to the moon and back and this chapter went through a couple different direction changes before i could finish it. If it sounds clunky, it's because it is. No beta we die like men. In spite of the state of the world, we preserve. This is just the few months after Jason's death. Warnings: Grief, and yn blaming themselves for the death of a loved one, descriptions of yn acting violently (destroying furniture), descriptions of adults screaming at each other. Writer is putting yn through the gauntlet.

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Things had been looking positive too long, apparently. As the summer months bled into autumn and winter, Jason began slowly pulling away. It wasn’t that noticeable at first, just him acting distracted as you two talked and occasionally he’d zone out, his mind wandering away from him. Something was clearly wrong, but you didn’t have the tools to help him. You were just a kid, after all, and only 11 at that. You’d gone to Alfred for help, but he’d only frowned slightly and sighed.

“Master Jason is.. dealing with some unfortunate decisions.” That was all he said.

Sure you understood Alfred trying to keep Jason’s private matters.. Well, private, but you just wanted something, any indicator of how to help or if your friend would be okay on his own. Something had descended upon the manor, a ghost or something akin to it, and everyone else could see it but you. Infuriating was one word for it. Hurtful was another.

You’d done your best, trying to open conversations with Jason but no matter what you did, he just kept pulling away. Though you knew it wasn’t really about you, it still hurt, a lot. One day, Jason came back to himself, being all cheerful once again, and he’d walked side by side with you in the gardens. You didn’t know what exactly caused this snap back to his original personality, but if you were being honest, you were just happy to have your friend back. Maybe it was selfish, but weren’t you allowed to be selfish sometimes?

“My biological mom contacted me.” Jason blurted out as soon as the two of you were under the shade of a tree. He didn’t look over to you.

“Are… you gonna go to her?” You asked awkwardly, the words stumbling out of your mouth. You didn’t exactly want Jason to go, but you wouldn’t stop him. If you had the option to go back to your mom you’d take it, so why couldn’t you be okay with him taking that option. A heavy weight dragged on your heart.

He smiled, eyes fixed on a piece of the horizon. “I don’t know yet.”

But eventually, Jason did have an answer to his issue, and he disappeared. On the first day, you just assumed he was taking time to himself and chose not to bother him. You’d pace around the library, waiting for him and hiding away from Bruce when he came around. But then you woke up with a pit in your stomach on the second day. You hoped you were just being anxious for no reason, as you often were, but Jason didn’t answer when you knocked and Bruce looked stressed out every time he saw you, his eyes staring past you like you didn’t even exist. You knew something was terribly wrong when Bruce left suddenly. You’d watched him for long enough; you knew his schedule, he only took private flights to business meetings on Wednesdays; it was Friday. You went to Alfred immediately. 

He’d been in the living room when you walked in, his attention solely on dusting an already cleaned bookshelf. His eyes shared that same glazed-over look that Bruce had.

“Alfred?” Your voice was quiet, unsure. “Where’s Jason?”

Alfred turned on his heel and looked at you with an expression of some mix of sorrow, hope, and desperation. His eyes were wide and you’d never forget the shake in his even tone even if you tried.

“I don’t know.”

Your stomach turned. The next day was a blur of red. You’d broken the mirror in your room, the blood on your knuckles dripping onto the floor, forever staining it. You screamed and begged for Jason to come home. Had he run away? Had he been taken? Your mind spiraled further and further until Bruce came home. You’d seen the car pull into the driveway from your window. Hoping Bruce would bring Jason in with him, you’d dashed down the stairs and stopped at the bottom step, only for your heart to sink as Bruce walked in alone. Alfred emerged from the doorway that led to the living room, looking at Bruce with the same hopeful expression you’d had on your face only minutes ago.

Bruce spoke first, addressing only Alfred. You doubted the billionaire even knew you were here.

“He’s gone.”

You shattered. Slumping down, you sat on the stair and hugged a banister leg. Anger and sorrow and disbelief fought for dominance in your head. It was dizzying. Among the chaotic mess of thoughts and feelings, you could only think one thing- you were cursed. It seemed that the people you loved were always taken. 

The rest of the day passed in a haze- well that would be an understatement. The following days passed by in a furious blur. Your anger came back. That blinding righteous anger that you’d only just forgotten- how foolish you’d been to forget it. You sat alone in your room for days on end, the door locked with a chair braced against it. Not that it mattered, since nobody came to talk to you.

You understood. Alfred was grieving too. And why would he want to talk to the thing that caused his favorite child to die? You caused this. You were the one who didn’t stop him. Why didn’t you stop him? The perfect wood of the dresser cracked when you pulled a drawer out and threw it across the room. The wood of the bed frame cracked the same way when you slammed your fists into it. The glass of the mirror cut your hands when you smashed it.

The brief satisfaction you’d gained from your destruction was extinguished rather quickly by the same crushing fact that Jason was gone. Nobody was coming to help you, and you were left in the aftermath of your anger, all alone, again.

Something in you had snapped after that day. Your anger stopped coming in deadly tsunamis and instead changed to an ever-present tide, ebbing and flowing with each hour. With your anger in check, you began to observe everyone around you again, just like you did after arriving. 

Alfred was grieving, clearly, but it seemed like he didn’t want that to show. You watched as he stood in the study, dusting the bookshelves slowly. He was reading the title of each book before carefully wiping away the dust on top of the books. If you looked close enough, you’d see the tear tracks still drying on his cheeks. When you shifted your position, he caught sight of you and collected himself. Painting a smile on his face, Alfred turned to you.

“My apologies Master (Y/N), would you like something for lunch?” He asked like he’d always done at noon. But his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. Nowadays he looked at you with this indescribable expression, like something you’d seen on your mom’s face sometimes. It was somewhere between guilt and sadness.

You knew it was because he blamed you for this. You were the one who didn’t stoop Jason and he knew.

Alfred seemed to hold it together the best. He would do the things that he’d always done, he’d keep functioning as the blood of the manor, keeping this hellish place alive in spite of the heart of it dying. You tried to not hate him for that. But where Alfred persevered, Wayne crumbled. You watched from the shadows as he crawled from the study to his room every other day. He’d disappear for days at a time, probably losing himself in his next business venture or hookup, you assumed. He’d all but disappeared from the manor entirely. You assumed it was the grief that made him do this, but you couldn’t help but feel disgusted by it anyway. Your mom would never act like that. 

You missed her.

Dick was the one to change the most. He came by even less than before, but when he did he always acted like you were brothers. He’d seek you out like a missile and scoop you up into a crushing hug- this habit you broke by kneeing him in the stomach and scrambling away. He respected your space more after that. When he interacted with Wayne, Dick seemed hollow. His smile would drop, in the opposite way of how Alfred would put his smile on, and Dick would get cold in the way he spoke.

You’d been walking to the library- you did this every wednesday now, as if thinking hard enough would bring your brother back- when you heard it. Yelling. Coming from the private study that Bruce used. You were never allowed in there, and the door was locked when Wayne himself wasn’t in there. As you passed by the closed door, you tried to block out the noise of the shouting, but a mention of Jason caught your attention. Pausing outside the door, you leaned against the wall, and listened.

“Bruce- don’t turn your back on me.” Dick’s voice was stern, angry, and hoarse. He’d been the one shouting. 

You could picture it: Bruce turned towards a window or his desk, ignoring Dick as he’d ignored you. You only felt a little guilty at the flicker of satisfaction that came from Dick being treated as you’d been treated. It was probably the only revenge you could get. 

Bruce’s voice broke through your thoughts.

“You were lucky.”

He sounded tired. Whatever feelings you had about that were hard to decipher. Would your mom sound the same way if she knew you’d caused your sibling to die? Your stomach twisted and your throat closed up, your eyes stinging.

“When you didn’t listen to me, your injuries weren’t fatal.” Bruce paused and you’d imagine he’d be pinching the bridge of his nose like dads in movies did when they were upset.

“Of course-” he started to sound angry, it made your skin crawl. “By the time I properly trained you-”

Trained?

“Are you, of all people, blaming me?” You flinched at the volume. Even through the wall, Dick was loud.

“I left, so Jason replaced me,” Replaced? “And because I left, he died?”

The terms they kept using- trained, replaced- made you nauseous. Jason wasn’t a toy. He was your brother. Why were they talking like that? Tears welled up in your eyes. Why were they talking about your brother like he was nothing? Your brain could just barely grasp the concept of someone being so dehumanising to the brother who helped you so much. It was as if Dick and Bruce were talking in another language, implying things your brain didn’t have the knowledge to express.

“Jason wasn’t me! I was a trained acrobat. I could think quickly in dangerous situations.” 

Don’t say that. Jason was the smartest of everyone here.

Dick was shouting still. “But why’d you let him become Robin before he was ready?!”

Robin.

The tears in your eyes fell. When you looked up, Alfred was standing across from you, his expression distraught as he stared back at you. He must’ve known before you did. Your tears ran down your cheeks and landed on the carpet. Alfred didn’t move.

“Don’t you dare blame me for Jason’s death!” Bruce was screaming at Dick. Something in the sound must’ve alerted Alfred. As you stumbled away from the study, you heard Alfred leap into action, running into the study and breaking up the argument. 

You walked aimlessly until you were in the library. Mind swimming, you sobbed in the dark, quiet room. You’d never missed Jason so much before. You missed your brother. You missed your mom, and the way she’d hug you when you cried. Robin. The name echoed in your head as you cried harder. You weren’t stupid, you paid attention to your classmates when they talked, even if they ignored you. You knew what Batman and Robin were. And now you knew who they were. And Jason didn’t tell you. You collapsed onto the wooden floor, sobbing hysterically. Did he feel like he couldn’t? You would’ve loved him regardless. 

That angry voice in your head, the one that came and went with the tide, whispered so softly in the shadows. Or he was told not to tell you.

Like a puppet being pulled by its strings, you stood. Your blood ran hot in your veins, so hot it nearly hurt. You weren’t the reason Jason died. In a trance, you walked towards the window along the far wall, staring out at the smog-choked sky that always hung above Gotham. 

Bruce Wayne, Batman, is the reason your brother, the only person who truly saw and helped you, is dead. 

Your vision blurred, but not with tears. No, your tears felt like they had dried to your face, the water evaporating. There was fire under your skin and it wanted out. Looking around- for what, you didn’t know- your gaze fell on the stupid grandfather cloak that was always broken. The hands never pointed at the correct time. It was so fucking stupid- to have a clock that didn’t tell the time, let alone such an expensive one. You walked over to it. You would’ve laughed if you weren’t so angry. It was such an obvious tell of how little the adults in this hell cared about anything. They couldn’t even fix a clock.

The glass broke under your fist, and you didn’t even bleed this time.

[alinathinkstoomuch]

EX-FACTOR

pairing: aaron hotchner x ex!reader summary: hotch swears he's listening to rossi, except he can’t focus on a single word when you’re at the bar with another guy, based on this request. warnings: hotch is turning greeeeen from jealousy!! pining, hotch just wants his baby back word count: 0.6k

✧ masterlist | ✧ alina's 1k bar

Aaron was trying to listen to Rossi—really, he was. Something about a plot of land and investment potential and tax benefits or… God, he’d lost the thread ages ago. He nodded here and there, tossed out a half-hearted “yeah?” or “makes sense,” but his focus wasn’t anywhere near the conversation. Neither were his eyes.

They were glued to the crowd, more specifically to the gap in it. The spot where you used to be.

You’d disappeared ten minutes ago, and so had the guy who’d been flirting with you. Some twenty-something whose fingers grazed the side of your waist like he had any right to be even within six feet of you.

“And what exactly is your plan for tonight?” Rossi asked, swirling the last bit of his bourbon. 

“What?”

“The staring? Gripping your glass like it can breathe?” Rossi lifted his brows. “What’s next? You going to challenge him to a duel?”

“I’m just watching,” Aaron muttered.

“Mmm,” Rossi said, which was Italian for you’re full of shit but I’m going to let you dig this hole a little deeper.

Aaron didn’t respond, his eyes doing their seventh sweep of the minute. He wasn’t sure what he was hoping for the most, that you’d look back and catch him, or that the guy would spontaneously combust under the weight of his scowl. But for any of that to happen, he had to see where you were.

And he knew that he had no right. That it wasn’t his business anymore, that the only real authority he had over you these days was inside a briefing room with a suspect on the board. Because this? A bar, a night off, your clothes, your smile, a stranger’s hand on your waist? This wasn’t his jurisdiction. This was your playing field now. And Aaron was a benched sub who’d already had his shot and fumbled the pass, reduced to a spectator at best. A ghost, more likely. 

“She’s allowed to dance, you know,” Rossi continued, not unkindly. “Even allowed to enjoy it.”

“I didn’t say she wasn’t.”

“Good,” Rossi said, far too breezily. “Maybe she even left with him. Can’t see her anywhere.”

Aaron’s head whipped towards the exit so fast, it stirred a breeze around him. For a moment his stomach dropped in that cold, involuntary way it did when something went wrong on a case as he considered the possibility that, maybe you did go home with him.

“I’m kidding,” Rossi chuckled. “Relax. She’s by the bar.”

And there you were. Using a stack of napkins to fan yourself, the golden lights catching on your exposed skin, the small specks of glitter scattered across your bare shoulders gracefully. He could still remember the caramel-like scent that came with it, relying on memory alone now, because he no longer had the right to be close enough to smell it again.

The lights shifted, dimming, then bleeding into a soft pink, the kind that made everything—you—look dreamlike. You gasped excitedly, grabbing Penelope’s arm where she stood beside you. She lit up just like you did, and Aaron didn’t even realise he was smiling until you were already pulling her towards the dance floor, placing a hand on the guy’s chest and yelling, “I’ll be back. This is our song!”

He hoped you wouldn’t be back, not to him, anyway. Not really. He hoped you’d stay somewhere close instead, just within reach, orbiting near enough for his eyes to find you and no one else’s.

He was grateful no one around had mind-reading abilities, because if you knew how often he thought about you, you’d probably never speak to him again. Or maybe you would. That was the thing about the two of you, the friendship had held, maybe too well. And maybe that was the problem.

Neither of you could move on. 

“You’re torturing yourself,” Rossi said plainly. 

Aaron didn’t look away. “I know.”

tags - @fandomscombine @pastelpinkflowerlife @hazzyking @bernelflo @risenqueen1521 @jazzimac1967 @camihotchner @abschaffer2 @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @pacmillo-blog-blog @stilestotherescue @kiwriteswords @anvdala @supersanelyromantic @yourallaround-simp @percysley @wowitsafemale @cinnamoncunt @keiminds @iyskgd @mystic-rox @insured-by-the-mafia @mggslover @star-crossed-sephie @tearykth @2dloveshp  @lovelystrawberry @imissaaronhotchner @justyourusualash @alexxavicry @storiesofsvu @ehedrick012110 @khxna

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[gay-wh0re-slut]

saw this pic from fanatics fan fest and my brain said ✨teacher-student✨ hehehe

A Little Help

rhea x reader

content: you're learning how to do a new move at wrestling camp but you just can't seem to get it right. Rhea had something in mind to help you put your mind at ease. (SMUT!!!!!!!! with reader as a person with a vagina that uses she/her) it's a bit long and a slow burn but it's good i promise please hang in there please i love you

"Fuck me dude," you say under your breath for what seems like the tenth time.

"You okay, (Y/N)?" your friend asks walking towards you. They've been with you this entire process and even helped you get into the program considering how many medals they've seen on your bedroom walls from past wrestling matches. You appreciated that they pushed you into this but right now you were cursing everything under the sun.

You wiped sweat off your forehead, "W-what?" You turn to face them, not knowing who it was at first. "Oh... yeah..." you sighed. "Well no. I can't get this. I don't know what I'm doing wrong, but I do know but my body won't let me do what I need to do....ya know?"

Your friend laughed, "Oooh yeah I know. What are you trying to do?"

"Hear me out-"

"Bruh," they cut you off in the most monotoned voice knowing exactly what you were about to say.

"Bruh!" you laughed, embarrassed. You stepped closer to them so no one could hear you but it didn't matter too much anyway; there were so many grunts and yells and slamming of bodies on mats that it was hard to hear anyway, "I'm trying to Riptide this fucking pillow and I have no clue how she turns them around. And I am not trying to impress her."

They gave you a look.

"Okay fine, maybe a little bit," you looked across the room to the teacher of the day, Rhea Bloody Ripley herself. Today was her day to teach the class. Each class, a different superstar comes in to show their signature move and some other tips and tricks. This wasn't the first time she's been here, but that didn't change your mind about how she made you feel.

"Why don't you just ask for help?" they stretched their arms to make it look like they were doing something.

You follwed suit, "Do you know how big of a fool I would make of myself? Again?! I can't do that! My career would be over because the amount of shame I would feel and the amount of people that would make fun of me and-"

"Woah woah woah. Chill, she's not going to make fun of you for asking a question. You know how nice she is outside of the ring, there's no way. Plus, and I don't want your head to get big about this, but I definitely think she's been eyeing you all day," they smile and gently point at the goth superstar from across the way.

Rhea gave the two of you a gentle smile and nod then went back to talking to a worker at the gym. She was fiddling with a football she found by squeezing it and throwing it up and down, giving her hands something to do. She was wearing a sports bra, her big dark gray jeans with holes at the knees and her chunky platform vans. Her hair was loose and she had little to no makeup on, but she still looked menacing at times.

"There's no way, bro, she's just checking on the class," you turn away from her gaze.

"Right," they rolled their eyes. "Tell me that again after you talk to her," they take a step back hiding a giggle.

"I'm not going to talk to her, its a damn pillow, I can fig-"

"Hey guys!" the unmistakable austrailain accent said behind you.

The world paused around you as you met her eyes. She was like a scene out of a 90s movie as she took the last steps towards you with a fan blowing her hair perfectly, a halo of light behind her, and you swear you could hear a DING as a sparkle animation bounced off her pearly whites. Like nothing else mattered but this 5'9 tattooed woman standing with her hands on her hips in front of you.

"Sorry, she's a bit shy," your friend laughed which shocked you back to reality.

"I couldn't tell with the way she was throwing this poor guy around," her strong arm picked up the pillow with ease.

"Ha. Ha." Was all you could get out. Your mouth was dry, your heart was beating incredibly fast, and somehow you were sweating more than you already were.

"Oh that only happens when she gets used to you," they laughed again.

Rhea laughed with them, "Well, I'd like to see that."

"Yeah! Show her," they said.

You choked on nothing, "I gotta...get some water," you say frantically and speed walked off the mats to the piles of backpacks and water bottles. You mutter "fuck...shit...dammit...fuck" quietly as you walk away.

As you chug your water trying to slow your heart rate, you turn around to see your friend and Rhea talking. They laughed and glanced over at you multiple times. You were hoping and praying to anything that would listen that your friend wasn't saying something embarrassing about you.

Finally catching your breath, you work up the courage to walk back over to them, "sorry about that, realized I hadn't had water in a minute."

"All good!" The austrailian said, "now, show me what you've got," she tossed the body pillow at you.

Catching it at the last second, "uh yeah, okay." You fix your footing, grab the pillow's hand and try to go for the riptide, but you failed again.

"That's all right! Try again! But this time grab it this way. Can I show you? I won't go through with it," she reached her hands out towards you.

"Sure!" and to your surprise and your friend's, she demonstrated it on you instead of the pillow.

You could feel your friend's eyes widen as they gasped quietly covering their mouth trying to act non-chalant about it.

You gasped loudly as she bent you over, grabbed your wrist between your legs and hooked your other arm around hers. "Now see, you were grabbing it like this," the arm she hooked, she switched to how you were doing it, "but it should've been this way," she hooked your arm correctly again.

"Oh!" you exclaimed as she gently let you go.

"Wait can you do that again, please?" Your friend asked, knowing exactly what they were doing.

"Yeah, is that okay with you?" Rhea looked directly into your eyes, as if she was staing into your brain and reading all of your thoughts.

"Y-yeah," you shrug contently.

So she does it again ever so slightly more aggressively and your heart jumps.

"Oooh okay yeah, so when you grab the hand underneath is that the driving force of the lift or..." you friend asks, egging it on longer.

"I'm gonna pick you up a little bit," the woman says quietly to you then back to her normal volume, "it's easier in one quick motion but yes, and no. You gotta use the hooked arm as leverage to turn the person around so that you can slam them down. The bottom grab helps lift them up so that you can turn them," as she was explaining she was genty lifting you up and down and shifting you around as if you weighed nothing.

"Oh I see! That makes much more sense, thank you!" Your friend smiled at you.

The tattooed arms gently set you down and helped you back up, "your turn!"

But before you could say anything back, "TIME'S UP! That's it for today everyone! Say thank you to Rhea for coming in today!" the orginal teacher yelled.

Rhea waved at everyone as they said their praises, "Please, thank you!"

"See you all next week!" The teacher yelled again.

"Damn," Rhea sighed, "and I was hoping you were getting used to me."

"I'll see you later, (Y/N)!" your friend giggled as they walked away from the two of you.

You waved to them as you finally said a full sentence to the wrestler for the first time, "Don't worry I was. But thank you for helping, I was getting really frustrated earlier," you laughed it off.

"I could tell, thats why I walked over here," she smiled, that made your heart melt.

"You got me," you chuckled.

"Follow me. I don't want them to kick us out before the next class," she gestured you to follow.

"Let me get my stuff," you run, grab your stuff and run back.

After what felt like 20 minutes of walking but was really two minutes, she finally spoke up, "I could see that you were tense, so I just wanted to make sure you were all good."

Taken aback by her kindness, which you shoudn't have been, "Y-yeah, I'm good. Just got in my head a bit, but you explained it and I'm pretty sure I got it for next time."

"Good," She held the door to the private locker room they gave her, you didn't even realize where she was taking you because you were so enthralled in her back tattoos, the way she walked, her back muscles, her shoulders, her hair, her hands, her - "I noticed you were favoring your right leg, did you hurt it?" She closed the door, locking it but you didn't notice that part.

"W-what?...Oh, no, I went a little too hard on that leg at the gym, forgot what count I was on, it's just a little sore is all."

'Crazy she saw that. I didn't think she was looking at me at all. Maybe they were right about her staring,' you thought.

"Have a seat, I know some massages that are good for that," her hands pointed to the couch.

"Okay," you hesitated a little but you listened.

"Good girl," her voice was deeper than usual.

Your heart skipped a beat as your legs became weak, you shifted on the couch slightly at her words. She took a sip a water before she walked over and knelt down in front of you sitting on her heels. You sat up straighter and cleared your throat.

"Where does it hurt?" her voice was smooth and low.

"M-my thigh," you choked out, "my quad specifically."

"Mind if I touch you there?"

"Go ahead," you were surprised you were able to talk right now.

She grazed her hands over your thigh feeling your bare skin. You were only wearing booty shorts and a sports bra, that you were totally comfortable wearing but now you felt more exposed than you did before. She gently added pressure as she rubbed your thigh over and over, massaging out the knots.

"Does that feel good?" She looks up at you.

"Mmhmm," you tried to relax everything but it was getting hot in that locker room.

She stopped and placed her hands on both of your thighs, "relax honey," she breathed, "I'm not going to do anything...you don't want me to."

You shifted again, "sorry."

"Don't be," She slowly bowed her head down and kissed your sore thigh.

You gasped and pushed yourself away from her.

She removed her hands quickly, "Sorry I didn't mean to startle-"

"No! N-no, it's...okay."

"You sure?"

"Uh yeah..." You said shyly, "yeah, yes," you said more confidently.

She smiled slyly and replaced her hands, she kissed your thigh again then went back to massaging it. A few minutes passed of her rubbing your sore thigh, you slowly but surely relaxed into her touch. Letting your head lull back on the couch cushion, you were breathing steadily but after a while you were fully relaxed, focusing on her movements. After another moment, she added a lot more pressure than she orginally was and you let out a small moan.

"Ooo, I liked that," she whispered so she added more pressure.

Unvoluntarily, you let out another moan. You realized that it didn't bother you as much anymore, being vulnerable in front of her. Something about her made you calm when you were alone with her. Was it the massage, or the quiet hum of the music from the gym? Either way you have never felt more relaxed. Which was surprising because she made you feel like a school girl with a crush just a few minutes ago.

"There you go. Let's see how far we can go, yeah?" her voice was still so smooth but darker than before.

Her tattooed hands added more and more pressure. Your breathing got heavier, your small grunts and moans became more vocal. You were so hypnotized by her hands that you didn't notice that she was also lowly moaning. What seemed like suddenly, but was actually quite calm, she bowed her head down once more and kissed your not-sore thigh again and again and again. She released the pressure on your sore thigh then used her hands to slowly spread your legs open as she went back and forth kissing your inner thighs.

She stopped to look up at you, "is this okay?"

"Yess," you breathed.

"Good."

She continued that for a minute with her hands gliding on the outside of your thighs. She scooted closer to the couch to allow her more access. Her kisses crept closer to your center as your breathing got heavier and your heart got faster. Your hand had a mind of its own and landed on the back of her head, fingers tangling in the dark black hair. She hummed in appreciation. Your hand pushed her head closer to your center and she took the opportunity to finally kiss you where you needed her most. You moaned louder than before.

She backed her head away a bit as you let your hand fall, "You sure? I won't be able to stop once I start."

You didnt really think this far, you didn't really know what you were doing but you were sure you wanted her since the first time you saw her in person.

"I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since I saw you for the first time," she admitted, "the way you handle yourself," she kissed your thighs in between sentences, "the way you handle others," another kiss, "the way your eyes sparkle when you look at me," one more kiss, "I knew I needed to get my hands on you as soon as I could."

You finally gain full consciousness, "That's how I felt about you," you moaned, "so yes, Rhea, I'm sure. Please."

"Glad we're on the same page," she took a long deep breath, looked you up and down as if she was ready ravage you in seconds. She placed her hands on the waistband of your shorts, "so... can I take these off?" Her eyes turned dark and her tone sounded like a calmer version of her in-ring voice which made your heart go crazy.

"Yes, please do whatever you need or want, anything, please," you huff.

"So eager," she used her mocking tone as she quickly disposed of your shorts and underwear tossing them away, "whatever you say princess," as she wrapped her buff arms around your legs and pulled you to the edge of the couch.

You yelped at the sudden movement.

"Ooh, such a pretty mess," Rhea cooed.

You groaned at her comment feeling her gently licking the inner most part of your thighs. You adjusted your hips to better her approach and she took the bait. Her tongue took one long swipe over your warm core.

"MMmfuuck," your hand found her head again and pushed her mouth further into you, "yesss."

She hummed into your wet mess making your hips buck at the sensation. Her mouth was working wonders on you as if she's done this a hundred times before. You were rolling your hips into her. Moans falling out of the both of you, her arms trying to hold you still and almost failing, almost.

The pressure inside was quickly rising, you were gripping the life out of the couch cushion hoping to not pull any of her hair out. "Yes fUck....Rheaa," you growled.

Her tongue swiping viciously over your clit, keeping her pace steady, driving herself closer into you. Your moans were getting louder and louder, you were practically screaming, so she released one of your legs and covered your mouth with her hand, but it only made you louder.

She forced her head up, you were dripping off of her chin, "you have to stay quiet beautiful, we don't want someone walking in on us, yeah?" she dropped her hand from your mouth, caressing your cheek.

You huffed at the sudden stop, you were sooo close and now you were frustrated, "mhm, please just... keep going, please"

"I know, I know," she brushed hair out of your face, "but you're just so pretty like this."

"Please, Rhea," you writhed, "I need you, please."

"So needy, my pretty girl."

You almost came just from hearing her say that, but as quickly as you bucked your hips towards her, her hand found your neck and squeezed, "now please, be quiet, princess and I'll give you want you want."

You nodded your head, trying not to fall apart under her, "y-yes ma'am," you squeaked out.

"Good girl," she moaned as she released your neck and gently placed her hand back over your mouth. She winked at you as she bent her head back down to finish the job.

You tried your best to stay quiet and it was extremely hard. "Mmmffffkkk," you pushed out. She continued as you writhed under her tongue. The pressure was quickly rising again, you were shaking into her, one hand gripping the cushion, the other pushing her head further into you, "yyesshhh!!"

The pressure finally released, bucking your hips wildly, moaning as louldy as she allowed you to as she moaned into your center, increasing the pleasure of the release, "FUCKK!!" She continued her magic as you came down from your high.

Slowly lifting her head, "you sound so pretty," she wiped her chin with her thumb, "and you're so hot," she looked at the mess you made on the couch below you, "and so fucking delicious."

You couldn't think or move or speak, all you could do was stare at the superstar and catch your breath.

She slowly backed away and found your shorts. She came back an helped them back on you, "You okay, beautiful?"

"Uh huh," you forced out.

"Good, now let me take you out to eat," she giggled.

[haikyuuusimp]

Atsumu x reader x Sakusa

warning-pregnancy, cheating

part1 part2 part3 part4

part2

Atsumu became a pro like he promised

but

You didn’t know where it went wrong.

Maybe it was always wrong.

Lately, all you felt was hollow.

Atsumu wasn’t really there anymore. He wasn’t like before. The glow he used to carry — the warmth, the light — it was gone. Faded.

Every time you called to ask where he was, he gave dry, vague answers. “Practice.” “Team dinner.” “Long day.”

But his voice lacked life. His words felt like placeholders.

He had changed. He wasn’t the same Atsumu who used to run through puddles just to make you laugh. Not the boy who’d roll in the dirt to pick wildflowers — just to give you the best one. Not the one who’d sneak out late just to hold you during your parents’ worst days.

That version of Atsumu… felt like a dream now.

He started coming home late, leaving early. No affection. No laughter. No connection.

Everything felt off. Cold. Dull.

And still… you held on.

Because you had news. Big news.

You were pregnant.

And maybe, just maybe… when he found out, he’d smile again. Maybe the idea of a baby would pull him back to you. Back to everything you two were supposed to be.

You texted him, heart pounding:

tsumu, i have something to tell you. can you come over early?

He replied right away:

i have something to tell you too.

You didn’t think much of it. You just smiled. Hopeful. Nervous. You’d surprise him. It would all work out.

Ding-dong.

The doorbell rang. You rushed to the door, smiling—

—and froze.

Atsumu was there.

So was Sakusa.

You hadn’t expected him. Not tonight.

Your face faltered, smile falling slightly. “Oh… I didn’t know you were bringing him too,” you said, letting out an awkward laugh.

They walked in. Both looked uncomfortable.

Visibly tense.

Like they were hiding something.

Something bad.

You swallowed. “So… what did you want to tell me?”

“No, you go first,” Atsumu said.

“Just tell me, please. Tsumu… you’re scaring me.”

Your eyes bounced between him and Sakusa.

You knew Sakusa. He was quiet, but kind. You’d gotten close to the team because of Atsumu. And as far as you knew, Sakusa was just a friendly guy. Someone you even considered a friend.

But right now? He wouldn't even look you in the eye.

You could feel your heart sinking.

“Atsumu?” you whispered.

He didn’t call you ‘babe’. Didn’t joke. Didn’t smile.

Just a quiet: “Y/N.”

Your name had never sounded so heavy.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I wanted to say this sooner but… Y/N… I— I love Sakusa.”

Silence.

It felt like the world stopped spinning.

He kept talking, stumbling: “It doesn’t mean I didn’t love you. I just… I don’t know. Please.”

Your chest tightened. Breath shallow.

You knew. You knew something was wrong for weeks. But hearing it out loud — Seeing it — Was a whole different kind of pain.

“Shut up,” you said, voice shaking. “Atsumu, shut up.”

Maybe it was the hormones. Maybe it was the betrayal. Maybe it was the grief, or the rage.

Maybe it was all of it.

But all you could feel was heat. Anger. Sadness. Heartbreak.

You grabbed your keys.

“Y/N, wait—”

“Don’t. Don’t say another word unless you want me to do something we’ll all regret.”

You turned to Sakusa, shaking.

“I expected better from you. You knew he was in a relationship. You both did this—behind my back?”

“Y/N—”

He tried to grab your wrist. “I still love you.”

But before he could say anything more—

SLAP.

Your hand met his face. Hard.

You ran. Straight to the car. Drove fast. Far.

And when you couldn’t drive anymore, you pulled over and sobbed.

Gut-wrenching, soul-shaking sobs.

You had no one. No one to hold you. No one to call. No one who loved you back.

You were alone.

You curled into yourself, hands cradling your stomach.

A whisper:

“Baby… Mommy’s gonna take care of you.”

A promise.

“Everything’s gonna be okay. I won’t let you feel what I feel. I’ll give you everything I can. I’m sorry. I’m sorry you won’t have a dad. I’m so, so sorry.”

You wiped your tears. Slowly. Breathing deeply. Trying to calm down — for your baby.

Because now, that’s all that mattered.

A few days later, you went to the hospital for your first check-up.

You sat quietly in the waiting room, filling out forms with trembling hands.

A nurse called your name. You followed her back, heart pounding.

She looked around, then asked gently, “Is anyone with you today?”

You shook your head, voice small. “No… I’m alone.”

She paused, then gave you a soft, sympathetic smile — the kind people give when they don’t know what else to say.

And somehow, that smile made it worse.

But you stayed strong. For the baby.

You returned to the apartment only when you were sure they wouldn’t be there.

Took your things. Blocked their numbers.

No goodbyes. No closure.

Just a new beginning.

You sold what you could. Moved into a small, quiet place. Not fancy like Atsumu’s — but safe. Yours.

You picked up part-time jobs. Bought secondhand baby clothes. Started preparing.

It wasn’t the life you imagined.

But it was yours now.

And no matter how broken you felt…

You were ready for whatever came next.

For your baby.

For yourself.

mlist

[doliveiraa]

sweet like hell - lee felix

pairings : felix x fem!cannibal!reader

genre : horror, gore

warnings : dark themes, gore, blood (a shit ton of blood), murder, some suggestive scenes

wordcount : 1.5k+

a/n : so i based this fic off of “jennifer’s body”. i hope you guys enjoy! remember feedback and reblogs are appreciated!! ^^

you were the kind of girl everyone wanted but no one could have—not really. you walked the hallways like they were a catwalk, hips swaying, blood still wet on your lips from the night before. guys tripped over themselves trying to catch your eye, and girls watched you with a mix of envy and fascination.

lee felix wasn’t like the rest of them.

he didn’t look at you like a prize. he looked at you like he already knew your secret.

you first noticed him in the back of the library, headphones in, mouth curled in a soft half-smile as he tapped a pen against his notebook. your hunger stirred—low and hot in your gut—but you didn’t act on it. not yet.

he looked up. held your stare like it didn’t burn.

“hey,” you said, tongue flicking across your teeth. “you always sit alone?”

“you always hunt alone?”

you blinked.

he smiled. “i’ve seen what you do.”

most boys would’ve pissed themselves and prayed you didn’t drag them into the woods after dark. not felix. he leaned back in his chair and let you circle him like a predator.

“you don’t know anything.”

“i know you haven’t eaten since jake choi. he went missing after the homecoming game. last seen leaving with you.”

your lips parted. “are you calling me a killer?”

“i’m saying you’re hungry.”

your breath hitched. it wasn’t often someone saw you that clearly.

“careful,” you said, leaning down until your lips almost grazed his ear. “i might bite.”

“then bite.”

you grinned.

♡

you didn’t kill felix that night. instead, you kissed him. deep and slow in the backseat of your car, the kind of kiss that made your jaw ache and your thighs press together.

he tasted like cinnamon gum and defiance.

“why aren’t you scared of me?” you asked, nails trailing down his chest.

“maybe i like dangerous girls.”

“maybe i like breaking boys like you.”

“then break me.”

you didn’t.

♡

he found you the next morning behind the gym, covered in blood.

your cheer skirt was ripped, your skin glowing unnaturally beneath the moonlight. you were crouched over a body, still twitching.

felix didn’t scream. he didn’t run.

you wiped your mouth and looked at him, breathless.

“you followed me.”

“i wanted to see.”

“you saw.”

“is that what they did to you? the band?”

your stomach twisted. low shoulder, the indie band with eyeliner and too many rings. they’d taken you into the woods after that stupid bonfire, tied you down to a rock and sang some shitty satanic song while stabbing you again and again, thinking you were a virgin.

joke was on them.

you came back wrong.

hungry.

powerful.

a succubus with killer cheekbones and a grudge.

“you know,” you whispered.

“i know,” felix said, stepping closer.

“then why aren’t you running?”

he reached out and touched your face. “because i think you’re still in there. the real you.”

you flinched.

“don’t.”

“you’re not a monster.”

“i am.”

“then let me be yours.”

he became your secret. not a victim, not a meal—something in between.

♡

you’d meet in parking lots and dark classrooms, his hands tangled in your hair, your legs wrapped around his waist.

he knew how to touch you. how to make you forget the blood on your hands.

you never took from him. never fed. not once.

but you dreamed about it.

his pulse, hot under your lips.

the way he’d taste.

the way he’d scream.

“you don’t have to keep killing them,” he said one night, lying beside you on the bleachers.

“i do.”

“there’s other ways to stay strong.”

“not for me.”

“then let me help you.”

you rolled to your side, fingers brushing his collarbone.

“how?”

“give me a piece of it. share the hunger.”

you blinked. “you’d take that on?”

“for you?” he smiled. “yeah.”

you kissed him.

bit his lip.

tasted blood.

the change was slow.

felix started looking at people differently.

not like they were friends or classmates, but meals.

you weren’t sure if he was becoming like you or just slipping into your world.

you didn’t care.

he was yours.

♡

when the football team started dropping one by one, the town freaked out.

cops came to the school. parents held vigils.

but no one looked at you.

you were too pretty, too polished, too perfect.

except felix.

he looked at you like you were a god.

like he’d kneel if you asked.

like he already had.

“they’ll figure it out,” he whispered one night, lips pressed to your neck.

“let them.”

“you’re not afraid?”

“not with you.”

he pulled back, eyes dark. “then let’s burn it down.”

“what?”

“the school. the town. all of it. start over somewhere new.”

you smiled, wide and wicked.

“you really would do anything for me.”

“i already have.”

♡

you didn’t just burn it.

you made it bleed.

felix lured them out one by one, and you fed.

full. powerful. untouchable.

by the time the flames reached the front doors, you were already gone.

hand in hand.

fingers intertwined.

blood on your heels.

a trail of bodies behind you.

no regrets.

no apologies.

just love.

twisted. feral. forever.

doliveiraa ꪆৎ ― est. june '24 © do not copy or repost my content on other platforms

[film-in-my-soul]

down-to-earth | 1,140 | Alienu

Summary: It takes less than ten minutes for his door to swing open and the bed to abruptly jostle when Jayce all but collapses onto it face first, groaning. “Remind me never to let Vi take me out to ‘relax’ ever again.” “Clubbing?” Viktor asks, continuing to type without pausing. “Clubbing.” It's said with the exact same tone that one might use to refer to the murder of a child, or something of that degree.

Reasoning | 3,276 | softestpunk / @softest-punk

Summary: Reasons to kiss Viktor: - can’t stop thinking about it Jayce ennumerates his reasons for and against kissing Viktor.

Deck the Halls Blue (Christmas All Around You!) | 4,121 | gloriousdisco

Summary: Viktor had never been a fan of Christmas. He found it a time of grandiose wastefulness, egregious overspending and exaggerated gestures. His companion in pink cleaning scrubs, however, appeared to be some kind of festive nutcase.

(see more recommendations below!)

survival instincts (and the lack thereof) | 7,058 | hvxtalis (ghcst) / @ghcstao3

Summary: When renting an apartment by himself finally became a viable option for Jayce, he'd been confident in his ability to live alone. But that was before his apartment was blown up, and now, much to his chagrin, he has to look for a roommate. And that's how Jayce meets Viktor.

holding back the years | 12,435 | spqr

Summary: Viktor tells Jayce, over breakfast, “Real life is not like the radio dramas, you know. Shining men from Piltover do not really go around adopting Zaunish orphans and rescuing Zaunish women from lives of whoring themselves for food. You cannot — save me. Not really.” “Well,” Jayce says, shoving the syrup at him, “I can damn well try.”

For All That Is Tender | 9,280 | SunsetPlums / @sunsetplums

Summary: Viktor stumbles across Jayce’s Christmas bucket list—half ridiculous, half indecent, and 100% now his problem to solve because that’s what boyfriends do, apparently.

I'll Be Whatever You Want Me to Be | 9,558 | GreyWingsandDreams

Summary: Jayce is a Beta. Viktor is an Alpha. Finding ways to make himself more "Omega-like" may not be the best plan to woo Viktor, but it's the only one Jayce has. Viktor, meanwhile, has a plan of his own.

Anomaly | 1,021 | softestpunk / @softest-punk

Summary: There’s a monster under Jayce’s bed. It’s his fault. Something went wrong in his research. He tapped into something he shouldn’t have, and something that shouldn’t be here slipped through. In the lab, in the daylight, he works, frantically, on fixing it. Reversing the process. Sending it back. At night, he retreats to his bedroom and waits.

Breaking Routine | 1,797 | zillac / @zillac

Summary: Jayce has a specific pre-bedtime routine, but for his husband? He’ll allow an exception. Viktor asks, “You are aware that I could make you come twice, in the time it will take you to finish this?” Jayce caps the toothpaste and stares down at the brush, considering. Then Jayce asks, “Wanna bet?”

Establishment | 2,620 | GenGonGinGun

Summary: “You have to know,” Jayce implored, “how beautiful you are.” Viktor smiled softly. “Because if you don’t, I’ll tell you. It’s the easiest thing in the world.” “Horrible man,” it came out fond. “I thought you were nervous.” “I am. If we’re both nervous, I think it means we’re doing something right.”

ouvert, fermé | 3,136 | poppyinabreeze / @poppyinabreeze

Summary: “Really?” Jayce asks, sounding surprised. “You like it?” Viktor huffs out a laugh. “Yes, Jayce. I like it very much.” He tilts his head. “Do you like it?” “I…” Jayce flushes, bites his lip. “I think so. But the, uh…” he lowers his voice, leans in as if divulging a scandalous secret. “V, there’s no back. On the…you know.” “The panties?” Viktor says, just to see Jayce’s reaction.

Reasons why Viktor is no longer trusted in the kitchen | 4,496 | finalproject / @finalpr0jects

Summary: Jayce comes home from class to find his roommate standing in front of the stove. Unusual, since he never sees Viktor in the kitchen unless it’s 3 AM the night before a big exam, and he’s eating handfuls of shredded cheese right out of the bag. Today, he’s in the kitchen, standing before a pot and stirring a wooden spoon around in lazy circles. Not just any pot, but the Le Creuset enameled cast iron Dutch oven Jayce’s mother gave him for Christmas last year.

Dive In | 6,000 | haunted_heartsick

Summary: What happens when a curious siren captures a inexperienced city boy from off of a small fishing boat? They get along, of course! Swimmingly, one might say. They're fascinated by each other. A little something for MerMay while I work on other projects.

This ain't goodbye no more, it just began | 7,106 | SirCumference / @sir--cumference

Summary: After he and Viktor save the world, Jayce wakes up in his old bed on the day it all started. Things are different, this time.

Toeing The Line | 7,836 | Rekki

Summary: “You were thinking about exactly what’s in your lap,” Viktor accuses, the slightest smirk curving his mouth, and oh, it is one of Jayce’s favourite expressions on him. But it does little to assuage Jayce’s panic. His hands are still now, frozen on his feet as he looks at Viktor. He feels like taking them away from the situation would make it worse. Viktor breaks the pause, “you were looking at my feet, weren’t you?” Jayce scoffs, feeling his heart kick up a few speeds in his chest. “Well, yeah, I was giving you a massage, of course I was looking at your feet.” “You got an erection from feeling up my toes.”

still life | 8,340 | jayvikling

Summary: Viktor’s sketch showed an embarrassingly blank spot between Jayce’s hips. He had never been such a prude, not even in his first nude drawing course. It was time to be mature and look.

a fixed beacon for a fixed purpose | 8,623 | notsolstice

Summary: Viktor reaches out a hand, unable to stop himself from touching. He intended to rest it on Jayce’s shoulder, to kneel down beside him but before he can do that Jayce lets out a soft exhale and all but throws his head into Viktor’s open palm. He slumps, face pressed into his hand like an obedient dog greeting its master, hungry gaze trained on Viktor’s face.

Part of You | 9,341 | Snoelled

Summary: “Does sex while high feel good?” Jayce and Viktor are laying on the couch in their shared apartment, sprawled over one another in a way that would seem incredibly uncomfortable to any onlooker. But Jayce needs the contact like he needs air - he always does when he’s high. The constant feeling of wishing he could melt right into Viktor and become part of him intensifies to the point of all encompassing. He’s sure that in this state he could do it. If he could just press hard enough, love Viktor enough, make contact with enough of Viktor’s body- “Eh- what?” Oh. Jayce forgot he had asked Viktor something. What had he asked again?

event horizon | 11,784 | WhoTheBuckIsStucky / @kjmsupremacist

Summary: But ambitions be damned—Viktor lifts his eyes surreptitiously, finding the object of his desire (and ire) blurry over the top rim of his glasses and wastes a few more precious seconds just staring at him. He’s tall, his height just on the side of unruly; his shoulders broad, hands practically the same size as the huge books he picks off the shelves. His hair is always gelled perfectly, even last week when it was raining something furious outside. He always wears a large pair of black glasses. He slings his backpack over his right shoulder only. He’s gorgeous. And Viktor, sleep-deprived, overworked, and generally miserable, has, for the first time in his unfortunate life, a fucking crush.

Tide to You | 12,081 | OhNovi

Summary: “All packed?” “Eh, mostly. Thought you could help me carry my bag to your car.” “Mr. Independent letting me carry his bags?” “I am on holiday, I will remind you. Perhaps I am letting loose,” Viktor sniffs. Jayce laughs, and the grin sticks. “Well holiday Viktor, I can’t wait to see all of this ‘letting loose’ you plan to do.” Professor Jayce and Professor Viktor take their marine biology students to Mexico to study coral reef rehabilitation. Jayce gets a private lesson on mermaid anatomy from Viktor.

fruit of eden | 14,184 |  WhoTheBuckIsStucky / @kjmsupremacist

Summary: “If you don’t mind me asking,” Jayce starts, “Academy Systems—that’s a biotech company, isn’t it?” Viktor focuses back on him, blinking in surprise. “Yes,” he says. “I am a scientist. I research skeletal disease. Why do you ask?” “I’m hoping to go into science,” Jayce explains, and Viktor’s belly burns as he watches a faint blush spread from his cheeks to his ears and down his neck. “I was just wondering, you know—how you got started, a-and what you studied, and if—if you like it?” If Viktor were a different person, with better self restraint and less interest in pretty teenage boys, he’d say something else, but what comes out is, “Been thinking about me, have you?”

Ask more | 15,611 | Anonymous

Summary: This was something shared, almost exclusively in Piltover, between married couples. Not friends, not colleagues- although neither label could fit what the two of them were to each other. Viktor would have walked up a hundred flights of stairs for Jayce, so in comparison this was nothing. But he was still aware that this was, in theory, a lot to ask of a person. Viktor thought, ask more. I’d give.

AFK for Love | 22,767 | Rohvee / @rohvee

Summary: For months, Jayce has relied on Arcane, an MMORPG, to keep him connected to his friends while he’s away at college. But when a new party member joins their group, Jayce finds himself hooked. To his surprise, it turns out Viktor is closer IRL than he thought—and their connection doesn’t have to stay in-game. Maybe going offline doesn't have to feel so lonely anymore.

Firebringer | 27,835 | LiminalShade

Summary: Jayce is sent to check out a station on a remote planet after its alarm goes off. On the verge of suffocating in a sandstorm, he barely makes it to the station — only to find a stranger inside who is not eager to let him in.

call me by my name | 40,016 | IguessIllchangeitlater

Summary: “This corset.” He would shrug if it weren’t painful. “It is not my medical brace, and after wearing it for the whole night, it is one painful thing.” “Do you… need help taking it off?” Jayce sounds endearing. “I suppose.” Under normal circumstances, Jinx would help him unfasten the laces holding the corset together. Viktor knows what awaits there on his skin by now, under his silky dress shirt, imprinted into his skin. Jinx would tell him he is ridiculous for not taking proper care of himself and he would tell her she doesn’t need to help him, then. But Jinx is not here. There is only his own discomfort and Jayce’s beguiling willingness to help. “So? What are you waiting for?”

You Know Me | 59,919 | Allyria

Summary: “I can’t relax,” Jayce says. “I haven’t gotten anywhere in weeks because someone—” “Yeah, yeah, someone keeps taking your research material,” Vi says. “It’s like they know,” Jayce says, his head in his hands. “They know what books I need and they take them. On purpose.” OR Somehow, someone is taking out all of the books from the campus library that Jayce needs for his (very niche) research. As soon as he finds this person, the only options are murder or falling in love. When Jayce finds out it’s the strange, pretty TA from the lab down the hall, there’s really only one option in the end.

two years of ink and flowers | 73,320 | Archadian_Skies / @archadianskies

Summary: Scattered across all of time and space, Jayce Talis finds himself running a renowned flower shop with his mother. Across the road is The Machine Herald, a tattoo parlour run by a Zaunite artist named Viktor. This Viktor doesn't know him too well, doesn't love him, and so Jayce takes it upon himself to woo him through the unspoken language of flowers.

destabilise by antiparticular /@antiparticular

2 Part Series | Rated M | Total Words: 6,918

Part 1 Summary: Jayce was naked and in Viktor's bed. Don't get him wrong - Viktor had dreamed of this happening, both literally and on slow days in the lab when he was feeling particularly self-indulgent, but for it to manifest outside of his overactive imagination? He was half tempted to pinch himself to check he'd actually awoken. Why was Jayce Talis in Viktor's bed? And more pressingly, why did Viktor not remember?

Salt and Honey by 27dragons /@27dragons

2 Part Series | Rated E | Total Words: 18,340

Part 1 Summary: There's a mole peeking out from underneath, and Jayce nuzzles in even closer to kiss it, and when the cloth shifts, he can see several more moles clustered nearby, in a shape a little smaller than Jayce's palm. They're in the shape of the constellation Cassiopeia. Jayce stops, staring at it. A negative image of the sky, dark stars shining against the pale skin of Viktor's inner left thigh. Viktor tries another shove and Jayce barely even notices it. He can't look away. Viktor's hand loosens in Jayce's hair. "Ah, Jayce? Are you okay?" "Uh. Uh, yeah," Jayce manages. "It's just, you just, uh. You have this little cluster of moles right here?" He brushes his thumb over them. "In the shape of Cassiopeia. The constellation." "Yes?" Viktor props himself up on his elbows to look at Jayce more easily. "I have quite a few, I'm sure you have noticed. They are not harmful. Is it-- Do they bother you?" "What? No! No, no, I just, um. I've seen them before."

Listen for Heaven by yellow813

3 Part Series | Rated E | Total Words: 37,407

Part 1 Summary: "It’s warm, he thinks, floating through the arcane in Jayce’s arms. Somehow here and not, between places, an existence and not at the same time like dust carried on the wind or the precipice between sleep and waking. He’d be satisfied if this was his end. And then, like tumbling from a cliff’s edge, he wakes with a gasp. And the world has not ended." Or; Viktor wakes up in a cabin surrounded by ice. Jayce is there, too.

Blog Info ☆ 2025 Reclists ☆ 2024 Reclists

[fallendemon6000]

Episode 7 - The Night of Confessions

It's the dead of night.

The woods are quiet. The Bentley is parked under a tree. The two are outside, Crowley leaning on the hood of the car smoking and Aziraphale looking at the moon.

He hugs himself with his hands.

He's not cold.

But his thoughts are making him shiver.

There's still something beneath the surface.

A: "There's something I haven't told you yet. It happened when... when I went back to Heaven."

Crowley takes a drag.

C: "I knew there was something. I could see it in you."

A: "Metatron... tested me. He wanted to make sure I was still... pure. Every inch of me. From the tips of my hair to the tips of my wings."

Crowley stiffens slightly.

C: "What kind of test?"

A: "Not physical. Not exactly. It was... like they were looking for cracks in my soul. Like they wanted to find every trace of you on me. Every fragment of doubt, every desire. Every hidden fragment of lust. Some sinful thought."

Crowley turns slowly toward him, stares at him.

C: "Aziraphale, I'm going to ask you a question and I want you to be honest with me... did they touch you?"

Aziraphale doesn't answer right away.

He closes his eyes.

A long, dense moment.

A: "Not in my body. But yes. It was... like an invasion. A touch to my soul. To my mind. Like they were digging into my memories to tear them out, to make me feel dirty. To erase you."

C: "Damn bastards."

Aziraphale puts his hand on Crowley's arm.

A shaky, but sincere gesture.

A: "But they didn't succeed. Not completely. You're still here. In my heart, in my thoughts. In every laugh, in every dream."

Crowley swallows, lets go of the cigarette, and turns fully toward him.

C: "What if they try again?"

A: "They won't succeed. Because this time... I won't be coming back alone."

The night continues quietly around them.

Fireflies glow faintly in the distance.

The blankets are wrapped around them both, but there's still a thin space between them, until Crowley breaks the silence. He climbs down from the hood and places Aziraphale on top of it.

C: "You know... Touching someone isn't just... hands. Skin. It's... knowing that you can get close, and that they won't run away. That they're not afraid. That you're not afraid. That they'll stay, even if they see everything. Even the cracks."

He pauses. Then he moves closer. His voice is hoarse now. Closer to the ear.

C:"I... I would touch you differently. Not like them. Not to erase you, or judge you. But to remind you who you really are. And that you are... enough. Just the way you are."

Aziraphale looks at him. His eyes become glossy.

C:"With me... you shouldn't be afraid of feeling wrong. You've never been dirty. Never been a mistake."

Crowley reaches out a hand, slowly. He places it very delicately on the angel's heart, over his clothes.

It's a symbolic gesture.

A touch that asks for nothing, that only offers.

C:"This is touching. Not to take. But to stay. To make you feel safe."

Aziraphale holds his breath. Then, slowly, he places his hand on top of Crowley's. No need for words.

Their hands are still joined. The fireflies' fire has thinned out, leaving only the moon to illuminate their faces. Aziraphale looks at Crowley with eyes full of questions.

One in particular escapes him, almost in a whisper.

A: "And you? Have they ever... touched you like this? In the wrong way, I mean. Not in your body, but... in your soul?"

Crowley doesn't answer right away.

He looks away, towards the sky. He remains silent for a few moments.

Then he speaks, in a low, almost flat voice.

C: "Yes. It has happened. More times than I care to remember."

A difficult-to-read expression crosses his face. It's not anger, it's not pure pain. It's something older. Tiredness. Survival.

C: "You know... When they kick you out of Heaven, it's not just a fall. They strip you. They make you feel wrong forever. Every time you get close to something beautiful... you feel like you don't deserve it."

Aziraphale stiffens slightly, but doesn't let go of his hand.

C:"And then someone comes along. Maybe a superior. Maybe someone who pretends to want to "put you back in line." And touches you as if you were already rotten. And you start to believe it for real."

Crowley turns to Aziraphale. His eyes, for once, have no lenses. Only raw truth.

C:"You touched me differently. Not just with your hands. But with your voice. With the way you looked at me. For a moment I thought... that maybe I, too, could be something good."

Aziraphale has tears in his eyes. Not out of pity, but out of deep understanding. His hand squeezes Crowley's.

A:"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

C:"I know. And maybe... this time it's not too late to learn to touch each other well. Like it should."

The silence after the previous confession is heavy but not empty.

The hands have just separated, but the gazes remain united. Crowley takes a deep breath, then breaks the silence with another truth. One he’s never had the courage to say.

C: “Can I tell you something else? One I’ve kept to myself. For too long.”

A: “You can tell me anything, you know.”

C: “When you came back from Heaven… I couldn’t stand to be near you. Not just because of how I felt. Not just because I’d lost you. It was the way you smelled.”

Aziraphale frowns, confused. Crowley looks down, as if shame is burning beneath his skin.

C: “You smelled like him. Metatron. Heaven. That smell… too perfect. Too shiny. But there was something else underneath. A sour tone. Rotten. Like… flowers left to rot in a cathedral.”

Aziraphale pales. Not from anger, but from a sudden pang in his heart. He slowly lowers his eyes to his clothes, as if he wanted to smell that scent even now.

A: "Did you smell me?"

C: "It was inevitable for me. It was as if they had covered you with a shiny varnish. Shiny, yes... but toxic. Every time you came closer... it was as if he was still there. Between us. And I... I couldn't breathe."

Crowley's voice lowers, almost a whisper.

C: "I don't blame you. But it hurt. More than I care to admit."

Aziraphale approaches, slowly. Not to defend himself. Not to deny. But to be present, in silence, next to that wound. She places a hand on his chest, as if to calm his heart under the black skin of jacket and anger.

A: "I understand. And... I'm sorry. I had no idea."

C: "I know. And now you know."

[rekino2114]

you know how the disbelief au is a thing in the undertale community i want prompt 39 with storyshift chara

Meeting stroryshift!chara in the afterlife

Pairing:female storyshift!chara x gn reader

A/n:I had to brush up on my undertale au lore for this but I still definitely got a lot of stuff wrong so sorry. Also I just love how right now I'm writing a fanfic about a fan made character taking the place of another fan character in an fan au. This is why I love the undertale community

The first feeling chara felt when she understood what had happened was disbelief (I swear I didn't mean the pun... but i guess doing a pun in a storyshift chara post is fitting)

this couldn't have been happening. Her determination should have kept her alive until she achieved her goal, until that damn human was killed.....but in reality, she knew that would have been her last ride, she knew that the moment she had been stabbed anls she smiled in the human's face.....she would have died there, failing her mission....she smiled again in this moment gritting her teeth and clenching her fists

".....what a bad joke"

After a bit of time spent drowning in regrets she got up and put her hood back up before starting to walk around stopping shortly after she saw something that caused her eyes to widen......you

Chara wanted to do so many things, cry, laugh, hug you, kiss you, she hadn't seen you in so long...she has missed you so much but she had failed to avenge you, so she didn't do anything that she wanted and just blushed and flashed you a small smile and waved at you

"Hey partner, I really kept you waiting didn't I?"

To her surprise, as soon as she finished saying that, you hugged her tightly, not saying anything, just staying there basking in her warmth

"I missed you"

"Me too......I'm so sorry"

"For what?"

"For not avenging you for starters......no I think it's because I couldn't protect you... I should have killed that human when I first met them"

"................"

Her grip on you tightened, it became possessive, you could feel all the regrets she had, she hugged you like you could have disappeared at any moment.....just like you did before....when that human ripped you away from her

"....that disgusting cruel human....they're just like the rest of them.....You're the only exception.....I'm so sorry"

"....it's not your fault, please don't apologize"

Chara chuckled like she often did but it was a melancholic laugh that had almost nothing of her usual brightness or happiness

"....if you say so, well not that it matters anyway now....that we're both here"

You broke the hug, and chara put her hands back in her pockets, looking back at you still smiling

"Hey......don't take this the wrong way, I'm really glad I'm here with you but.......are the others here too?.....I kinda wanna see them"

"....yeah...I can bring you to them if you want"

"..thanks I'd love that.....then we can hang out together......it's a shame we didn't do that often when we were alive"

You looked down even sadder than you were before

"....yeah...."

Chara noticed your expression and held your hand trying her best to comfort you

"Hey......I know this doesn't mean much right now but.....remember I love you"

You looked up and saw chara looking at you, a comforting warmth in her red eyes

"Hm?......yeah.....I know"

".....and....I'm sure that out there there's tons of other universes where we're all alive and happy together"

"....and you think we're together and in love in those universes?"

"Of course, we're partners after all.....no matters where or when....I'll find you...and you'll find me....so that we can be happy together"

After a bit you smiled to yourself and squeezed chara's hand

".......then that's all I need to hear"

"......huh?"

"...I love you chara.....and even if I'm not happy that things went this way in this universe.......the thought that somewhere.....we're alive and in love and happy......it makes me just a little bit happier.....and this a bit more bearable"

Chara looked surprised before smiling once more, however this smile was much warmer and wider than the other.....seeing you happy even if only a little bit in this situation made her happy too

".....I'm really glad you think so partner..... I love you too"

[cheralith]

feat. itoshi sae (kind of) (with rin) cw: gn!reader, no pronouns used, coraline-ish au, pt 1 here, pt 2 here

"You genuinely don't think there's anything is wrong with him?"

The dish in your hand, covered with soap and suds, threatens to slip from your grasp when Rin's sarcastic voice registers in your mind. It's been a lingering thought, barely there in the back of your mind—you just didn't think anyone else thought of it.

The water feels colder and thicker on your skin as it runs, viscous and slimy. Despite such, you continue washing the dishes anyway.

Rin is here to visit the home you and Sae share. You think it looks more vibrant since the day he had returned, the colors of the wall less paled and the decorations actually serving more like pleasant eye candy rather than merely collecting dust. The world in general gleams brighter.

The only person that doesn't seem to be as saturated is Rin. He still holds that empty, muted look in his eye, the one that Sae mirrored in beholding prior to his brief absence. A semblance of the past that he can't let go.

"Who, Sae?" you ask with faux coy.

"Don't play dumb," Rin mutters. It's less of a hiss and more of a plea; you think there's a ghost of a "please" hanging onto his words somewhere. "He's been weird since he got back from wherever the fuck he was. You know it. I know it."

You stay quiet for awhile, letting the water run and the dishes tinker. "In what way?"

"He's... nicer," Rin has trouble getting the word out. "And softer. That's not nii-chan."

A dry chuckle slips past your equally dry lips. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

"Because it is," the younger Itoshi bites. "Nii-chan isn't nice. At least not this nice."

"Rin," you say quietly as you dry your hands, turning to face him with a desolate look. "I don't think we should focus on that as much as what exactly happened."

"No, I think we should, actually," he takes a step forward to you. His height looms over you in an attempt to close you in, to come face to face with reality and to stop living in this odd delusion of Sae being nice. "It's weird and I don't like it. Something or someone must've messed him up because he's not the nii-chan I know."

"You're saying you want the old Sae back? The one who would hurl insults at you left and right? The one who made your name synonymous with 'lukewarm'?" you dispute with a knit in your brow. "That Sae?"

Rin's reply is swift. It's equally as assured.

"Yes," he narrows his eyes at you, the teal in them strikingly vivid against Rin's pale skin and monochromatic clothes. "Because that's the Sae i've grown up with. The one who I know and who knows me."

You fall into an uncomfortable silence, trying to find a refute that never comes.

"Ochazuke," Rin says suddenly, breaking through the quiet. "He forgot my favorite food that hasn't changed since I was a kid was ochazuke. When we went out the other day."

Rin turns on his heel, his footsteps drag as he begins to exit the kitchen to leave you as you were. You didn't want him to be in it, but you don't want him to leave you alone—alone with your thoughts and whatever else may come.

Just before he steps out of it, Rin looks back at you with a despondent look. Heavy and almost defeated.

"If that's of any concern to you, at all."

---

Another pair of eyes watches as Rin promptly leaves the room from behind a dusty looking glass. Also teal. Also sharp in their gaze.

Sae feels his lips quirk up slightly when he watches you throw the dish towel to the floor, irritation plastered on your face as you rub your aching temple. You're back to your contemplations again, right where he needs you to be.

"Ochazuke," Sae murmurs, "with sea bream."

[fromasgardandback]

Eavesdropped Conversations

Eddie Munson x Reader x Platonic!Hellfire Club

masterlist | oneshots

•

The loud talking and fights over their characters and the fate of the end of the current campaign were heard clear as day down the hall from the drama club room where the Hellfire Club sat. Eddie walked into the room, annoyed by the noise level, placing his books down with a loud bang that got everyone’s attention. 

“What is going on? I heard you all from the back door. It’s annoying… stop it.” Eddie sat on his throne with a huff.

“What’s gotten into you, man? You look more irritated than normal. Did something happen with the misses?” Gareth propped his head in his palm, batting his eyelashes at Eddie.

“Shut up. No, nothing happened. Can we get on with the game, or do you chicks want to keep clucking?” Eddie annoyingly threw a chip at his face.

As the game kept going on, Eddie’s campaign didn’t make it any easier for the younger players at the table. His sadistic style grew tiresome on the weary warriors, and they needed a recon. 

“Okay, we need to use the Fortune Teller; she’s always been a good player to bring out.” Dustin offered to the others. Y/N had walked in at that moment, but the huddled group didn’t see her.

“She’s so annoying. It’s nice she brings stuff to the group every once in a while, but then she needs something from us. It’s tiring. We should just leave her. Next time she comes around, we all ignore her.” Gareth said, debating Dutin’s earlier fondness for the character.

“Agreed. We can’t keep stopping the game for this.” Mike grumbled as they went back to their original seats.

Y/N didn’t know they were talking about a character. It fit with what she would do for them. Every other week, she would bring a baked good for the club to snack on. It was her way of saying thank you for being so kind to her as Eddie’s girlfriend. As an aspiring cook and baker, Y/N would utilize that time to try new recipes on them. But what she heard, she couldn’t believe. Without waiting another second, she bolted out of there and down the hall towards the exit. Tears streamed down her face when realization hit her. They never liked her, and they were just pretending. What made it sting more is that Eddie stayed silent. 

“Let’s continue, Gentlemen and Lady Applejack,” Eddie smirked, sitting up on his throne, getting back into character.

The weekend went by rather painfully slow. Too slow for Eddie’s liking. He called Y/N more times than he can count. Even her brother wouldn’t let him in to see her. He racked his brain and calendar about what happened. Did he miss a special anniversary, birthday, damn even Flag Day!? Eddie parked outside your home Sunday evening after dinner, waiting for you to come outside to talk to him. Even after the fifth attempt, your brother gave up and forced you to talk to Eddie.

“Baby. Please talk to me. I can’t figure out what I missed or did wrong. I miss you. It’s been killing me not seeing or talking to you. It’s like the light completely went out.” Eddie said, holding her hands. She reluctantly let him hold them, but did not show affection back.

“You know it hurts more now knowing you can’t see it. That it was so comfortable for you to let it happen and not have my back either. Do you do this often? Let others talk shit about me while you stay silent. Because I know you’ve done it for me before, but with your friends? What a stranger is fine to yell at, but you can’t defend me to your friends? Or do I truly mean that little to you? If so, then I don’t want this anymore. I need someone who isn’t afraid to protect me, even if it is their closest friends.” Y/N moved back, crossing her arms across her chest. The tears in her eyes threatened to spill over again. Memories of Friday night keep coming back.

“What? Y/N, what are you talking about? What did my friends say about you? When did this happen? I have always and will always defend you, you know that. I’ve beaten the complete shit out of the jocks at school for how they have talked about you. Please tell me when this happened.” Eddie desperately pleaded. Now knelt in front of her while she sat on the porch swing.

“Friday night’s Hellfire Club meeting. I walked in bringing another tray of baked goods for you all, only to get shit-talked. I clearly heard them. Word for word, “She’s so annoying. It’s nice she brings stuff to the group every once in a while, but then she needs something from us. Next time she comes around, we all ignore her.” Explain that one. Because you sat there and did nothing.” Y/N said through tears. 

“Y/N… They weren’t talking about you, baby. There’s a character in the game that they all hate. If they choose her, she helps but ends up costing them something in return. That’s what they were discussing. I can show you evidence, too. Dustin asked about you Friday night as well. They all love you. They would never say anything that hurtful to or about you. And I would never let anyone, not even friends, talk about you like that.” Eddie took her face in his hands. “I love you, sweetheart. You’re my girl.” The tears were coming down even harder now. She felt like an idiot for not hearing them out, even if it was true. That she heard the first thing and ran with it. Her emotions got the best of her and now she looks like the insecure and pathetic ass. 

“Eddie, I am so sorry. I assumed and let my emotions get the best of me. I am so, so, so sorry.”

“It’s okay, sweet girl. I’m here now. We can put this all behind us, and in a couple of years, we can laugh about it. Why don’t we go bake something to bring them tomorrow morning? Hm?” Eddie rubbed her back, holding her close.

“Yes, please. Apology muffins.” Needless to say, they all proclaimed their love for her and her baked goods.

[pankowcrumbs]

I heard husbands have a hard time loving and bounding with the child if the childbirth was traumatic.

Can I ask for Joseph Quinn x reader where she gave birth to their first but both pregnancy and birth was very hard and traumatic. He's helping y/n getting back to health as his mom helps with baby. One sleepless night y/n finds herself alone in bed. Struggling, she gets up to find Joseph sitting in baby's room just looking at his firstborn. He doesn't notice her at first. She asks if he's ok and he hugs her, he's shivering. He confesses he doesn't like their child for all complications it caused and it makes him feeling like a bad person, he also asks y/n for forgiveness she had to go through all that and says he understands if she doesn't love him anymore. Y/N reassures him of her love. She sits next to him and tells him his emotions are valid and that she noticed he wasn't much himself lately. Baby wakes up and she asks Joseph to hold the firstborn but he refuses. As days pass he helps more and more. One day y/n and Joseph are sitting in one room. As he feeds baby firstborn smile at him and moves its little hands. Joseph cries, because he understands baby loves him. Y/N tells him if she'd have to go through this again she would because it was all worth it.

MasterList

Joseph Quinn Masterlist

Stranger Things and Cast Masterlist

The birth nearly broke me.

No poetic way around it just the cold, sharp truth. Thirty-two hours of labour. Emergency C-section. Blood loss. Silence before the baby cried. Pain that clung to my body long after the stitches were healed.

Everyone said, "But you're both okay now." I wasn’t. Not really.

And neither was Joseph.

I think we both expected it to feel different. That when she was placed in my arms our daughter there’d be some wave of euphoria. That everything would make sense. That we’d cry, kiss, be flooded with joy.

Instead, I felt lightheaded and afraid. I didn’t even see Joseph hold her for the first time I was unconscious by then.

We’d been home a few weeks. His mum stayed with us, bless her, taking the night shifts, changing nappies while I lay still, trying not to fall apart. Joseph helped me wash my hair, guided me to the loo, rubbed my back through tears I didn’t let him see.

We hadn’t slept in the same bed properly since. Not out of distance, just… logistics. Exhaustion. His mum had the baby in the guest room. I stayed mostly in ours, trying to heal.

One night, I woke up to an empty bed.

It was 3:12 AM.

The sheets beside me were cold, undisturbed. Joseph hadn’t come to bed at all.

I pushed myself upright wincing and padded slowly through the quiet house.

There was a soft, golden light coming from the nursery.

The door was ajar.

I peeked in.

And there he was.

Joseph, sitting in the rocking chair. Hair dishevelled, hoodie bunched up around his shoulders. Elbows on his knees. Hands clasped. Staring at the crib like it held something fragile and foreign.

He didn’t hear me.

“Joe?”

He jumped slightly, head snapping toward me.

I took a few slow steps in. “You okay?”

He didn’t answer. Just stood, walked across the room, and pulled me into his arms.

He was shaking.

I held onto him tightly, one hand at the nape of his neck. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m...” he choked out, “I’m not okay.”

“Alright,” I whispered, “we’ll figure it out.”

He pulled back, eyes glassy. “I don't think I like her.”

I blinked. “What?”

“I know how awful that sounds. I know,” he said, voice cracking. “But every time I look at her, all I see is you in that hospital bed. Wires. Blood. I thought I was going to lose you.”

My heart twisted.

“I wanted to be happy,” he went on, “but instead I feel… angry. Resentful. Scared. And I hate myself for it. I hate that I can’t look at her without remembering that.”

I didn’t speak. Not yet.

He continued, “And I’m sorry. For all of it. For what you went through. You were so strong and I couldn’t protect you. I was useless. I keep thinking, what if you never forgave me for getting you into that situation?”

“Joseph.”

“I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t love me anymore.”

I put my hand on his chest. “Look at me.”

He did.

“I love you,” I said softly. “Even now. Especially now.”

He collapsed into the chair, head in his hands. I sat beside him on the floor, resting my head against his knee.

“It’s okay to feel this way,” I said after a moment. “You’ve gone through something traumatic too. Just because you weren’t the one in the bed doesn’t mean you weren’t hurting.”

“I don’t want to resent her,” he whispered.

“You won’t. Not forever. But it’s okay if it takes time.”

She stirred softly in her crib. A tiny breath. A twitch of her hand.

“Do you want to hold her?” I asked gently.

He shook his head. “Not yet.”

I nodded. “That’s okay.”

The days that followed were quiet.

Joseph cooked breakfast again. He helped me shower. He sat beside his mum while she rocked the baby, asked questions. How much does she need to eat? How do I hold her head? What does that sound mean? Small steps. Gentle ones.

But I noticed he’d still avoid being alone with her.

And I didn’t push.

A week later, I came into the living room with tea, only to find Joseph sat on the rug, legs crossed, bottle in hand.

Our daughter was in his lap.

Feeding.

He was completely still, like if he moved, the moment would end.

She looked up at him. Big, blue-grey eyes blinking slowly. Her tiny fingers stretched out, brushing his jumper. And then, the faintest smile.

He let out a sound choked and soft.

A single tear slid down his cheek.

“She smiled at me,” he said, barely a whisper.

I knelt beside him. Wrapped my arm around his shoulders.

“She loves you,” I said.

He turned to look at me, eyes rimmed red. “Even after everything?”

“She doesn’t remember the hospital, Joe. She only knows your voice. The warmth of you. You singing to her while making coffee. You carrying me to bed when I couldn’t stand. She knows you. And she loves you.”

He looked back down at her, who had now fallen asleep mid-bottle.

“I didn’t think I’d be good at this,” he admitted.

“You’re better than you know.”

He smiled. It was tired, fragile but real.

That night, we put her down together.

She settled quickly. Like she knew we were both there now. Like something had fallen into place.

Back in bed, Joseph wrapped his arms around me, burying his face into the crook of my neck.

“I was so scared I’d lost you,” he murmured.

“You didn’t.”

“You’re still here.”

“And I’m not going anywhere.”

A beat.

“If we had to do it all again,” I said softly, “I would.”

He pulled back slightly, brow furrowed. “You would?”

“Even knowing what it cost. Even knowing how much it hurt. Because she was worth it. You were worth it. This family we’re building? I’d walk through fire again for it.”

He didn’t say anything.

Just kissed me. Long and slow. With the kind of reverence that only comes from breaking and rebuilding.

We fell asleep like that his hand on my belly, mine on his chest, and the silence between us no longer heavy, but full of something softer.

Healing.

[katnissmellarkkk]

heyyy, girlies! so i’m posting a new ficcy! everyone cheered! i hope if you read this you enjoy it! i appreciate any comments any of you leave me! they truly motivate me so much to keep writing more!!! i do have a few chapters of this already written so if you read it and like it lemme know!!! 🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

gotta drop a tw though for you who dislike sotr! this is heavy with the sunrise lore so maybe it’s not for you if you disliked that book? or maybe it is! we’ll see 🤍🤍🤍🤍

summary : Lenore Dove lived at the end of Sunrise On The Reaping and the butterfly effect has far reaching consequences for Katniss, Haymitch and Peeta’s lives.

An alternate universe where if one thing was different, almost nothing else is the same.

Found Family Dynamics. Everlark Centric in the later chapters.

-

I was at lunch when the sirens went off. One moment I was sitting there, eating the rabbit and lettuce sandwich my mother had packed me that morning, and the next my hand had slipped and the rabbit meat fell silently to the ground.

The sirens were loud. That much I remember like it was yesterday. The sirens were so loud I had to cover my ears just to think straight.

Get Prim, I ordered myself, pushing away from the table and weaving through the crowd of kids, all rushing through the doors exiting the cafeteria, pouring out into the hallway in a wild cluster. Inevitably most of us got stuck, everyone pushing and shoving at the same time, all with the same goal in mind.

All trying to get to the mines as quick as we could, begging and pleading to no one in particular, that it not be our family lost beneath the earth.

As soon as I broke free of the crowd, I hurried to Prim’s classroom, only to find her waiting anxiously at her desk, hands folded neatly, not saying a single word. Being patient and calm, doing just as I had drilled into her time and time again, should this event ever occur.

Although, turns out preparing for the event and living it were two very different things.

Prim clung to my hand as I pushed through the never ending stream of people on the streets, everyone trembling or holding their breath as they pushed towards the mines.

By the time we arrived at the main entrance there was already a rope put up to keep the crowd back. Hundreds of people were huddled around, waiting, despair in their eyes as they stared blankly at the elevator doors, as if they could will the captain to come up and relieve them of this horror.

We found our mother clinging to the rope at the front of the crowd. And I should have known then that something was wrong. I should have known something was off about her right from the start.

Because never in my life had my mother not come running for me when something was wrong. Never had she waited for me and Prim to search for her.

By her side was my aunt, Lenore Dove. She wasn’t really my aunt. She was technically my father’s cousin. A distant cousin at that. Their exact relation never stuck in my head and I never thought to ask much about it. But nevertheless, Prim and I called her our aunt the same way we all called Clerk Carmine and Tam Amber the uncles. They weren’t even blood related to any of us and they were both old enough to be my grandfather, but the moniker stuck just the same.

An hour passed before the elevator doors screeched open and a large group of miners, covered head to toe in coal dust, came pouring out into the dim orange light of the cold, winter afternoon.

Cheers and cries of joy, of relief and solace, filled the air as family members dove underneath the rope to hug their respective loved ones. The size of the crowd dwindled down little by little.

Two hours later, a repeat performance occurred. More smoke-blackened miners appeared from behind the elevator doors. More wives, husbands, children, parents, siblings, friends, all came running towards them in a sobbing mess. More of the crowd dissipated.

Around the time we’d usually be sitting down for dinner, a third batch of rescued miners appeared and the same hysteria ensued. And I began to resent the families of the surviving miners. I began to resent the miners themselves. Because why did they get to escape while my father was still trapped underground?

Snow began to fall after that. It was only a light dusting but it was enough to make Prim shiver like a dog in a thunderstorm, the thin sweater over her school uniform not nearly enough to keep her warm. And I stripped off my jacket immediately, wrapping it around her and rubbing up and down her arms, trying to keep her composed and comfortable as we waited through what was shaping up to be the most difficult night of our young lives.

“Darling,” I heard my aunt mutter, beckoning her husband from further back in the crowd. I didn’t even know he’d arrived. And it shocked me, even in my distracted state. Haymitch usually avoided large gatherings like a plague. “Grab a blanket, will you?”

In a matter of seconds, I felt a thick wool wrap over my shoulders. “I’m okay, Auntie,” I whispered, my voice cracking, both from the frigid air and the fear welling up inside me.

“Shhh.” She wrapped both arms around me from behind and kissed my hair. She didn’t say any more, didn’t offer any words of encouragement or platitudes, because deep down she knew how hopeless this situation was quickly becoming. And I was never the kind of kid adults felt right lying to.

More hours passed. Fewer miners appeared, filthy but alive, and their families escorted them away with tears of relief in their eyes. The little that was left of the crowd soon became almost nonexistent. Soon the crowd consisted of less than fifty of us and the sky turned black as night overtook day.

There was brief talk of sending Prim and me to the uncles’ home for the night. The home Lenore Dove grew up in. But I vehemently refused and my mother still had yet to let go of the rope or respond to a single question thrown her way, and in the end my aunt and uncle decided it was more of a hassle than it was worth.

Lenore Dove wrapped Prim in a couple blankets someone left behind and cradled her on her lap, singing her to sleep as my mother and I both fell to our knees. She laid her face against the rope, her icy blue eyes wide and haunted as she stared intently at the elevator, like if she blinked she may miss my father walking through those doors.

I, on the other hand, pressed my hands to the ground, digging my nails into the cinders, begging silently in my head for someone out there to come along and pull my father free. For anyone to come and save him from what was surely a horrible, gruesome death beneath the earth.

If anyone could hear me, they didn’t seem to care.

As the hours passed on by, my uncle tried to convince me to drink something warm and sweet from his thermos but I shook my head stubbornly and laid down flat on my belly, my ear to the freezing cold concrete, as if I could somehow hear my father’s voice one final time.

“Come on, Sweetheart,” Haymitch scolded but I refused to even look up at him, to even so much as respond.

I wanted my father so badly, I couldn’t bear it. I wanted him so badly that I was frozen in place, unable to do anything, say anything, even so much as think anything, until he was free.

But at the break of dawn, all my fears came true. My entire world came crashing down, as the mine captain exited the elevator alone, a grieved expression upon his face as he pronounced my father and ten others dead, forevermore buried beneath the earth.

Read The Rest On AO3

[starlight-sev]

Legilimency, and Other Secrets (Teen!Snape x Reader)

Request: Severus snape x reader. Severus use a legilimency on reader. She finds out by Severus answering something she hasn't said yet. She is little bit in shock but in good way.

Requested by anon

A/N: I've always wondered, how did Severus begin learning Legilimency? Was it always a skill he had? Was it something he did for fun in his spare time, or was it more for survival?

This lil fic goes into the lighter side of it -- what if it really did just start out as a fun lil hobby for him? hehe enjoy :)

Severus was acting strange lately.

You couldn't put your finger on it, not exactly, but there was something different about him. He seemed quieter than normal. More solemn. You saw it in the way he'd complete his assignments in the library, he'd be halfway through a sentence and then he'd abruptly stop writing. His jaw would clench ever-so-slightly, and then he'd start glaring at his parchment as if he were trying to burn a hole right through it.

"You're staring again." Severus's low voice snapped you back into reality. You blinked, folding your arms across your chest as you leaned back in your chair.

"You're doing that thing again." You retorted.

"What thing?"

"I don't know, you're staring at your assignment as if it might snap up and bite your face off any second."

"I'm concentrating." He replied slowly, picking up his quill and going back to writing. You sighed, not fully satisfied with Severus's answer, and went back to reading.

Almost like clockwork, it happened again. Mid-sentence, Severus stopped writing and stared at his assignment. You glanced up with a frown, observing the distant look that filled his eyes.

"You're doing it again, Y/N."

"So are you!" You exclaimed, only to wince a moment later as a few aggressive shushes filled the library. You leaned forward, lowering your voice to a whisper. "Severus, I swear on Merlin's beard, if Sirius is coming after you again-"

Severus rolled his eyes. "This has nothing to do with him. Or Potter, or anyone else."

"Then why are you acting so weird?"

As Severus opened his mouth to protest, you rolled your eyes.

"I've known you for seven years. You're my best friend, I can describe your routine in my sleep. Someone could break that window right over there and it still wouldn't interrupt you from writing. Don't even bother trying to tell me nothing's wrong."

You can be so stubborn sometimes.

Severus frowned, his gaze suddenly snapping up to you.

"Look who's talking." He retorted. "I'm stubborn? You're the one who won't ever let me help you with Potions, and you nearly failed the class last year because of it!"

You gaped at him as you slowly closed your book and pushed it out of the way.

Did you just...?

Severus swore under his breath and threw his quill down onto the table in resignation. He shook his head in defeat.

"Well, secret's out I guess." He shrugged, running a hand through his hair.

"What the bloody hell was that!?" You hissed. Your mind was reeling as you tried to find a logical explanation for what just happened. Severus responded with the tiniest smile.

"My latest project." He answered simply. "I was going to tell you eventually, but I wanted it to be perfect."

"Your latest project..." You shook your head in disbelief. "You mean to tell me that you've just been casually practicing Legilimency this entire time?"

Severus met your gaze, answering your question with nothing but a sheepish grin. You laughed in awe.

"Do it again." You nodded in encouragement. Severus rolled his eyes after a moment's pause.

"You have to think of something other than Legilimency first. At least make it somewhat of a challenge."

"Oh. Right." You looked down for a moment, concentrating on the first thought that popped into your mind. Something that would be hard for Severus to pick up on.

Your mind went to the Amortentia potion you had to make in class last month. One of the few things you had brewed properly. No one was obligated to share what theirs smelled like, and you decided to keep yours secret even though Severus had pestered you relentlessly about it. You never forgot its scent, though: amber and spices, something similar to cloves, and just a hint of something clean and soapy. Almost floral, now that you thought about it-

"Y/N..."

Your eyes met Severus's. His cheeks were tinged pink as he gaped at you without a word. You felt your own cheeks heat up as you looked away.

"I guess you saw that, huh?" You asked softly. Severus leaned forward, and you felt his gaze burning into you. His dark eyes seemed to glow with emotion intense enough to intimidate you. You had to look away. You were glad to be sitting down, the way he was gazing at you made your knees weak.

"It's bergamot." He whispered. You blinked, your eyes finally meeting his in confusion.

"Huh?"

"That floral scent you were wondering about," Severus laughed nervously, running a hand through his hair. "It's bergamot. I found the soap in Hogsmeade during our last outing there. I had no idea you noticed it."

You pressed your lips together, looking away. You had thought it would be funny, almost ironic, to reveal what your Amortentia smelled like. Now that it was actually happening, you weren't expecting things to get this real or intense.

Severus frowned in thought for a moment, before turning his gaze back to you.

"Um, could you look at me?" He asked softly. "I want to try something. And try not to blink."

Your heart raced, but you managed to maintain eye contact with him. Your chest tightened as you felt a nudge somewhere in the back of your mind. There was a pause that followed where everything inside you felt empty, and then suddenly you smelled it. Your soap, the scent of your laundry, and the lotion you'd sometimes use. All wrapped up in one.

Severus smiled, though there was still nervousness in his eyes, as you realized what was happening. He was in your mind, sharing his own memory with you. You were experiencing everything he did that day.

"Since you shared your Amortentia with me..." He said softly as the last few scents faded from your mind. There was a gentle pressure, almost like a little bubble being popped, as Severus left your mind. "I figured I might as well do the same."

"You just went into my mind." You gasped in awe. He nodded.

"I've never done that before. I needed your permission, through eye contact, I think. I have to admit, I didn't think it would work as well as it did. But... I guess my secret's out now."

"More than one secret, I would say." You laughed to try and shake off the shock and excitement that filled your heart. It did little to make any of your feelings dissipate.

"I'll be honest," Severus spoke softly, a touch of an anxious quiver perceptible in his voice. "I'm not too sure where to go from here."

"Me neither." You admitted honestly. "We're still friends, right? Like... knowing all this, does it change anything between us?"

Severus shook his head vehemently. "I don't want anything to change. At least, not for the worse. We're still friends. Definitely still friends."

You nodded, and a thought popped into your mind.

...Maybe more?

Severus glanced up at you, inhaling sharply. He blushed almost as soon as the thought crossed your mind, and you knew that he had heard you.

"Yeah." He breathed. "I'd like that."