#IF I DIE THEY WILL GET EVERYTHING AFTER ME

[jinwoosbabyboo]

𝙲𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚕 𝙰𝚙𝚙𝚕𝚎 🍎

My personal headcanons for Boyfriend!Caleb after what I've seen and read about his character so far. A/N: All my ride or die Caleb girlies if you disagree with anything on this list im not going to argue with you please don't take my word as law. I love y'all dont fight me 💋 feel free to add more in the replies ‼️MDNI‼️ + cw: quick mention of cnc & primal play

[SFW]

wants to be in your skin wrapped around your nervous system and nestled in the wrinkles of your brain ; if this man could glue you to him he would

remembers everything that happened to him and mc when they were lab rats as kids which is probably where his mental health started rapidly declining

Cuddles ! ; he’ll also cuddle you while youre asleep constantly ; doesn’t matter if you’re in his bed, the guest bed or your bed he’ll climb right in and snuggle up

leaves you bowls/plates of fresh fruit and a glass of water on your nightstand

doing backflips if you tell him he can wash your hair for you ; the longer it takes the better

monitors your social media and online presence “You shouldn't post that no one needs to see you naked” “Im wearing a bikini Caleb” “Basically naked”

big on taking photos he wants as many photos together as possible

movie nights and date nights are his shit he’ll alway be down for that ; if you two have a show you watch together he is genuinely hurt if you watch an episode without him

holds your hand even when you don’t want him to ; would quite literally use his evol to hold your hand in place

if you’re sick he's at your bedside 24/7 with medication and home cooked remedies ; will spoon feed you if you let him

uses his body as a wall in large crowds to keep people from bumping into you

will beat the brakes off of anyone who dares to even look at you sideways and when you ask him what he did he’ll lie and smile in your face

PINKY PROMISES ARE LAW

will take you everywhere with him and will also follow you anywhere ; he’d stand guard outside of the bathroom stall if he could

although he does have some bolts rattling around (because they’re not loose they’re fully free) he will pamper the hell out of you ; he’s running you a bath, rubbing your feet and cooking dinner so you have a relaxed night and warm meal

when you do help him cook he’ll stand behind you and cover your hand with his while he guides your hand with the knife

will hold anything you hand him while he’s on the phone

has an entire closet of all the gifts you’ve ever given him

the type to close the door and immediately lock it if you’re in a room alone with him

hates to argue with you ; he’ll do it, but he regrets it afterwards apologizes profusely later with your favorites foods, sweets, treats and things

has to get a kiss before he leaves ; he’s not leaving without it

the type to wrap your arms around his neck when he goes in for a kiss

loves caging you between his arms and his body at any given chance

has to be touching you in some kind of way

the type to tuck you in every night

loves to give you massages because he loves touching you

[NSFW]

needs you to use your words “tell me how you want it” “don’t cover your mouth” “tell me you missed me” “how much?” “right there or right here? Tell me” “open your mouth” “how much do you love me?” “are you all mine? say it”

records your moans so he can listen to them later

pretty panty lover ; buys you lots of them ; loves to have you model them and you’re getting dicked down if you’re walking around the house in them

takes you anyway he can ; favorite position? ALL OF EM mans brain turns to mush just having his hand on you ; a dom that will punish you, but gives stellar aftercare

loves to tease you by getting you wet and just rubbing his tip over the fabric ; slides the panties to the side instead of taking them off because he loves to see them on you

a vocal moaner and a yapper when he nuts ; nuts inside every time makes him feel like he’s claiming you

Intentionally fails no nut November and says “we’ll try again tomorrow” turns you every way but loose for the entire month

massages your thighs and coochie so he can watch his cum drip out of you

a slurper and moaner when he eats it ; eats the pussy and the ass

puts the colonel hat on you

100% into cnc & somnophilia I will not argue with anyone about this ; not a fan of dacryphilia he hates to see you cry

you have to have a safe word because he gets pussydrunk extremely easily

panty stealer ; keeps a pair in his pocket when he goes to work ; clean or dirty doesn’t matter to him

into primal play would chase you through the woods in the Rina Kent - God of War mask and rearrange your guts right there with pleasure

would get jealous of your vibrator/dildo

[strnilolover]

dealer!chris takes care of soft!reader after she accidentally takes an edible

warnings : edible. weed. reader is high for the first time. little bit of a freak out. and more?

“chris,” you murmured, your voice shaky as your body leaned up against the wooden frame of his bedroom door. your wide eyes darted around the room, not quite focusing on anything. “i don’t feel right.”

he was on his feet instantly, crossing the room to you. “what do you mean? what happened?”

your bottom lip quivered as you clutched the edge of the doorframe for balance. “i… i ate something. from the kitchen.” you paused, trying to collect your thoughts, though your words came out slow and slurred. “it was a brownie… in a bag… and now i feel weird.”

chris froze. he didn’t need to ask which brownie you meant. he’d left them on the counter for a friend to pick up later—edibles that were definitely not meant for you. his stomach dropped.

“angel,” he said cautiously, running a hand through his hair. “that wasn’t a normal brownie.” your brows furrowed in confusion. “what do you mean? it tasted normal.”

“it had weed in it,” he explained, his tone gentle. “a lot of weed. those are for people who’ve, y’know, built up a tolerance. not for someone who’s never smoked in their life.”

you blinked at him, the information processing in slow motion. then, your hands flew to your face. “oh my god. am i gonna die?”

chris bit back a laugh, his worry softening into affection. “no, babe. you’re not gonna die. you’re just really, really high right now.”

your shoulders sagged in relief, but only for a moment before panic set in again. “i don’t like it,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “i feel like my body’s not mine, and my thoughts won’t stop racing.”

his heart ached at the fear in your eyes. “okay, come here,” he said softly, guiding you to the bed. “sit down. i’ve got you.”

you leaned away from the door fran, your feet dragging against the floor as you made your way to the bed. you sat obediently, but your hands fidgeted in your lap. “chris, everything feels… big. like my hands, my feet, my head.”

he crouched in front of you, his hands gently covering yours to still them. “hey, look at me,” he said, his voice steady. “you’re okay. i promise. you’re just feeling things more intensely right now, but it’s all in your head. i’m here, and i won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

tears welled up in your eyes, and you nodded, clinging to his words. “promise?”

“i promise,” he said, brushing a stray tear off your cheek. “i’m gonna help you through this, alright?” you nodded again, leaning into his touch. “okay.”

“good. now, first things first—water.” he stood, turning and walking out of his door—disappeared into the kitchen, returning a moment later with a glass of water, a cold washcloth.

“drink this,” he said, handing you the water. “and take small sips, okay? don’t chug it.” you followed his instructions, the cool water soothing your dry throat. chris sat beside you, his arm draped over your shoulders, grounding you with his presence.

bringing the glass away from your lips, you hand it to chris. he takes it gently, setting it on his bedside table before returning his attention to you.

you managed a weak laugh, leaning your head against his shoulder. “i don’t get how people like this. my brain won’t shut up. i keep thinking about… about how time feels stretchy. Is that normal?” you ask, your words coming out slowly.

“yeah, that’s normal,” he said reassuringly. “it’s just the weed messing with your perception. it’ll pass. you’re safe.” you let out a shaky breath, sinking further into his side. “you’re really good at this,” you mumbled.

chris smiled, his fingers tracing gentle circles on your back. “i’ve been around enough people to know what to do. next time, ask me before you eat random stuff, yeah?” you groaned, covering your face with your hands. “this is so embarrassing.”

he laughed, pulling your hands away to press a kiss to your forehead. “nah. it’s kinda cute, honestly. no need to be embarrassed baby.” his hand reached out, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “now lay down. rest a bit. i’ll be right here if you need me.”

you did as he said, turning out of his hold to crawl up in the bed—chris following as you curled up on his bed. his body slotted next to yours, wrapping his arms around you and holding you close. the water started to help, and his steady presence calmed the storm in your mind.

“chris?” you murmured after a while, your voice drowsy. he looked down at you, tugging you closer. “yeah?”

“thanks for taking care of me,” you said softly, your eyes fluttering closed as your body shifted—laying on your side as your own arms wrapped around his middle. your face snuggling into his chest.

he smiled, brushing his fingers over your cheek. “always, baby. always.”

[thewoollyviking]

I’m of two minds about this…

Yes, I agree it would be jarring for Steven to line the Diamonds up against a firing squad and have them executed.

Yes, it’s better to let them live if they can undo a lot of the damage they had done…

However, there is one notable harm that they have done that the show makes clear they cannot undo. And that is the abusive and neglectful treatment of Rose.

And this isn’t just me showing my Rose bias or being pedantic. Their mistreatment of Rose directly led her to most of the conflicts in this show.

They infantilized her and treated her like less of a person partly for not having a colony where they had several. So Rose wanted a colony.

They told Rose that Earth was her planet. That it belonged to her. But then turned around and told her she had no authority to stop the colonization peacefully. So Rose went to war.

Rose faked her shattering, believing the Diamonds cared so little about her that her death wouldn’t matter and that it would finally drive Homeworld away to end the war…

And then they corrupted all but three gems across Earth in an act of pure spite and grief.

After damn near 6000 years, Rose believed that Homeworld and the Diamonds all but completely forgot about her and Earth and was certain Steven and the rest of her family would never have to deal with them…

And, well, we know how she was wrong there…

They made Rose believe she was worthless and awful. In White’s own words “the part of me that I always have to hide”. The reason why Rose grew up such a guarded, broken mess of a gem who never felt like she could be open and honest with anyone.

Rose’s demons were placed in her head by the Diamonds.

Rose is gone, and more importantly gone FOREVER because of them.

And yet… after season 5 that revelation doesn’t seem to bother them? If anything the death of Rose is brushed aside so they can beg Steven to come live with them. And Steven in turn feels he HAS to be cordial with them.

The Diamonds seemingly learned nothing and have not suffered after realizing the family member they mourned wasn’t murdered, but instead ran away from them because of how awful they were to her.

But meanwhile for Rose, it’s as if everything she had ever done to try and crawl her way out of the pit of fucking misery she was born into didn’t matter.

At best, all the people she ever loved and cared about become deeply uncomfortable whenever her name is brought up in casual conversation. And at worst, as we see with Steven, they can’t even stand to look at her anymore.

Meanwhile, Steven and the others are making sure to be extra patient with the Diamonds as they take on the role quirky space grandmas

This is what I mean when I say that post season 5, consequences only exist if your name is Rose Quartz.

Why does Rose have to settle for the ending where everything good she did ultimately doesn’t matter, her own son regularly tap dances and spits on her grave. And her own family is all too eager to shove her in a closet and forget she ever existed…

But the people who abused her, who did such an awful job raising her that she was willing to fight a war partly so she could finally get away from them… we apparently need to be patient with and give them the benefit of the doubt.

Fuck. That.

The Diamonds may not deserve to die, but they sure as fuck deserve to suffer for the wrongs they inflicted on Rose alone.

They do not deserve the comforting lie that they could ever be good people if the show is already so quickly to condemn Rose.

Sometimes I think about how and why some people had such a *bad* reaction to the end of Steven Universe, specifically in regards to the Diamonds living.

Even though they no longer are causing harm to others and are able to actually undo some of their previous harm by living, some folks reacted as though this ending was somehow morally suspect. Morally bankrupt, even.

And I think it might be because so many of us were raised on a very specific kind of kids media trope:

They all fall to their deaths.

Disney loves chucking their bad guys off cliffs. And it makes sense- in a moral framework where villains *must* be punished (regardless of whether their death will actually prevent further harm or not), but killing of any kind is morally bad for the hero, the narrative must find a way to kill the villain without the protagonists doing a murder.

It's a moral assumption that a person can *deserve* to die, that it is cosmically just for them to die, that them dying is evidence that the story itself is morally good and correct. Scar *deserves* to die, but it would be bad for Simba to kill him. So....cliff. (edit: yes, cliff then hyenas. But cliff first. Lol.)

Steven Universe, whatever else it's faults, took a step back and said "but if killing people is bad, then people dying is bad", and instead of dropping White Diamond off a cliff, asked "what would actual *restorative*, not punitive, justice look like? What would actual reparations mean here? If the goal is to heal, not just to punish, how do we handle those who have done harm?" And then did that.

Which I think is interesting, and that there was pushback against it is interesting.

It also reminds me of the folks who get very weird about Aang not killing Ozai at the end of Avatar. And like, Ozai still gets chucked in prison, so it doesn't even push back on our cultural ideas of punitive justice *that much.* and still, I've seen people get real mad that the child monk who is the last survivor of a genocide that wiped out his entire pacifist culture didn't do a murder.

[numinousher]

NEEDED SAFE ── caleb.

summary: he needs you and he needs you safe

note: calebbbb i understand you <33

You watch Caleb with wide curious eyes as he lies down on the couch, unaware that you’re awake.

He breathes in and out, his arm over his eyes, trying to calm whatever emotion he’s feeling. His gloved hands form into fists and then his fingers extend out, hoping to get rid of the tension he was experiencing.

“Come here,” he whispered loud enough for you to hear. You freeze at his unexpected words and think that maybe staying still will make him think you were still sleeping.

He softly chuckled.

“Come here,” he softly repeated. “I know you’re awake.”

You sigh and come out from the shadows, timidly walking to him.

A smile stayed on his lips as he watched your facial expression. You looked like a child who just got caught stealing cookies after their bedtime.

“Are you okay?” You asked, placing a hand on his forearm.

“Yeah, of course. You know I can take care of myself,” he smiled. You looked at him, inspecting everything about him. You could tell the way his smile didn’t reach his eyes like it usually did and you let out a small scoff. “I’m fine.”

“You have blood splattered on you,” you point out, gesturing to his uniform and neck that did have small splattered blood stains. He maintained his composure. “Caleb—”

“Don’t,” he sternly said in almost a breathy tone. “I’m keeping you safe.”

“I can handle—”

He gave you a small glare. “These people don’t know when to keep to themselves and it’s my duty to take care of you. Just you. You’re important.”

“You’re important, too,” you said with a frown. “You’re important to me and I can’t lose you again. It’s just…” you take a breather, “I feel, like, I have you but you’re out of reach. You’re you but… you’re not you.”

“I’m still me.”

“Are you?”

“Yes! I’m still me,” he said in an urgent tone, grabbing your wrist and bringing you closer to him until you straddled him. “I’m still me.”

He let out a shuddered breath as he took off his gloves, placing a hand on your cheek. He looked into your eyes so you could see it was him. It was still him.

“You’re still Caleb?”

“I just want you safe,” he whispered. “Just you. Safe. It is my job to keep you safe. To keep you away from danger. I will move everything in between this planet to have you safe and I will die if I have to keep you like that. I don’t care about anyone else. Just you.”

“I am safe,” you said with a gentle tone, now placing a hand on his cheek to let him know you are.

He closed his eyes, leaning against your touch. He let out another shuddered sigh before opening his eyes. They were glistening with unshed tears, though, they were gone in a blink of an eye.

“I love you,” he whispered as if he was sharing a secret. He grabbed your hand that was on his face before enveloping it with his fingers. He brought it closer to his chest on top of where his heart resided so you could feel his heart beating. “As long as my heart is beating, I am going to do everything to keep you out of harm's way.”

“You can’t die, though,” you frowned. “I lost you already Caleb and I don’t know how you’re alive yet, but I can’t. I can’t go through that pain again. I love you too much.”

He smiled a little and nudged his nose with yours. “Are you sure I can’t keep you inside here forever where you’re safe?”

“I’m sure. I have a life, too, mister.”

“Build a new one with me,” he softly urged, bringing your hand up to his lips. He kissed your knuckles, letting his lips linger. “I’ll give you everything. I’ll build you anything. I just want you with me… please.”

“Caleb…”

“Stay safe in my arms,” he continued, looking at you. “Stay safe with me. You’re all I need and I just… I can’t be away from you. Not anymore.”

You look down at him and the way his tears blurred his vision again. His chest heaved up and down as if he was containing himself, not wanting to show you how hurt he was. But you could and you could see the way his hand gripped yours. He was making sure you were still there.

“You have me anytime,” you said, wiping away his tears. “You have me and all of me. But keeping me locked away when I have a job, friends, a home, it will only make me despise you. And I can’t… I can’t despise you again. I want to see you as my Caleb and not as the Colonel who is keeping secrets from me.”

“I’m always your Caleb,” he muttered, his hand placing itself on your jawline. His fingers managed to tangle themselves into your hair, tilting your head down. “Just yours.”

He softly kissed your lips; it felt feather-like.

“And I will do anything for you,” he continued. “Anything. It has been my job to watch over you, to take care of you, and I’m sorry for being possessive, for being… whatever I am, but I got you. I just got you. And I don’t want to let go. I can’t bear anyone taking you away from me.”

“And I don’t want to let go either,” you said, your breath fanning his lips. “I don’t. You don’t know the pain I went through after that explosion…”

Pain flashed in his eyes at the memory. Of everything he had to do to survive. Of everything he had to endure. To keep you out of harm's way, like he said. Because everything could break, everything could disappear, but all he’d need is you.

Tears fell out of his eyes and it made your heart clench at the view. He was never one to cry, maybe the day he left for training, but he had looked away in hopes you wouldn’t notice. And you did but never said anything.

“Never again. I’m back and I’ll keep myself safe just as I’m keeping you safe.” He looked into your eyes, memorizing every detail. “If anyone bothers you, anyone hurts you, tell me, okay? Can you promise me that?”

You let out a small breath before nodding. “Yes…”

“Good. That’s all I want. You to be safe,” he whispered again, his lips meeting yours into a deep kiss.

You gripped onto his uniform, kissing him back just as deeply.

You two kissed, making up for every passing moment, for every event you two missed, and every feeling you two withheld from each other all those years.

His left arm stalled itself around your waist while the other arm’s hand placed itself on your upper back, bringing you closer.

“I need you,” he mumbled into your lips. “Just you. And if anyone takes you away from me, God help this stupid planet.”

He kissed you back earnestly, his lips moving against yours expertly. His tongue swiped on your bottom lip before he placed his arms on your thighs.

“Hold onto me,” he said.

“Huh- Oh!” You grabbed onto his neck as he got on his feet, holding onto you tightly. He walked to his room.

His fingers gripped the flesh of your thighs, smiling as he kissed you.

“Call me a crazy man, but never call me crazy for protecting you.” He placed you on the bed and towered over you, placing a leg over his waist. “You. You’re my top priority. Above everything else.”

“I love you,” you whispered into the kiss.

“I love you more. But first, let’s take a shower together.”

“Dirty man.”

“In what ways?”

[storiesoflilies]

warning: nsfw, 18+, mdni.

thinking about toji fushiguro and the way he loves to press warm kisses just behind your ear, his lips trailing slowly to the back of your neck, and all the way down your spine. his arms are caging you in, and his body blankets yours, his heat and weight overwhelming you in the most delicious way possible, because he’s just so fucking big and he’s on top of you and it all just feels so good.

you can try and bury your face deeper into the pillow to try and hide how much you love all this, but toji would see right through you.

because god, he always knows exactly what he’s doing, he always has. nobody else knows you better, after all. nobody else knows what makes you tick, or just how to tease you so much that it makes your skin flush and you forget how to even breathe.

he slides his hand over yours, rough and impossibly warm. “why’r you hiding from me, pretty thing?”

but you can’t say anything at all.

all you can do is let out an exceptionally embarrassing whine.

toji chuckles lowly, and you can feel his lips pull back in a smirk, his breath hot against your lower back. your skin gets all clammy, and you tense up as goosebumps flare up on your arms and legs.

you know that he loves this.

he loves teasing you and riling you up so badly that your practically melting into your wrinkled bedsheets, begging him for more and more, because you feel that you’ll die if you don’t get that sweet release from him right there and then.

toji hums.

“oh, i wonder what my baby wants from me.”

and then his fingers are gliding over the curve of your ass, going round and round in circles, each time getting closer to where you need him the most. you let out a muffled moan, pathetically biting down hard on the pillow. his lips are back behind your ear, biting and nipping at your soft lobe.

toji wants to give everything to you, he wants to give you his all and make you feel all sorts of pleasure.

but he also loves this too.

the power.

“use your words.”

his voice is raspy, cooing at you and making your brain go dumb for everything except him and his touch.

“c’mon, sweetheart.”

he brushes against your sweet spot. it’s such a featherlight touch, but you’re so sensitive and desperate for it that it feels more like a cosmic explosion. stars dance behind your closed lids, and you can’t help but moan again as a searing heat pools to your lower belly. you know toji wants you to beg, he’s waiting for it, but it’s so hard to think and string together words in a coherent sentence when you’re so consumed by him.

but eventually, you will give into him.

because you always do.

“please,” you finally pleaded, broken and breathless and utterly desperate. “toji, please.”

and something in him snaps.

before you can say another word, a calloused palm finds your jaw and tilts your head backwards for him to claim your lips in a hot, needy kiss. a hand roughly slides underneath you, flipping you over before you can even register what’s happening. you let out a gasp, but toji swallows it whole as his lips captures yours again, his tongue slipping between your lips and dancing over your tongue.

“you gonna let me take care of you, baby?” he groans between kisses, settling himself more firmly between your legs.

“y-yeah,” you stutter weakly, your lips tingling and probably bruised.

then, you feel it.

his cock.

it’s hard and thick, scorchingly hot as toji begins to grind himself against your needy hole. even now, he just can’t stop teasing you, still wanting you to absolutely fall apart beneath him where you’re all safe and warm. and with every shallow thrust, he slips in just a fraction deeper.

and deeper.

and deeper.

just a little more.

you moan as he finally sinks into you, and it’s absolutely filthy – the way you’re just so full, stretched to your limit, and it’s still mind-blowing every time, no matter how many times he’s had you.

“that’s it,” toji groans, a hint of satisfaction in his all too smug voice.

he gives out a deep, guttural moan as he bottoms out, his hips flush against yours, and you can feel every ridge of muscle and power building up behind him. your nails instinctively dig into his bicep, anchoring yourself against something – anything – and toji’s forehead drops down to touch yours. his green eyes bore into you, and at first it’s full of adoration, reverence even. until he grips your thigh, pulling it around his waist, and they turn a shade darker when you let out a broken cry of his name at the new sensation.

“yeah, baby. say my name again. let me hear you.”

and with a snap of his hips, he rolls into you with the most obscene plap! plap! plap! noises filling the room. toji’s pace is relentless as he absolutely drills into you, like he wants to push a part of himself to live inside you forever. you know he’ll do it, he’ll spend all night trying if he has to, determined to leave the both of you in a trembling mess of love and spent ecstasy.

you know that you’re in for a very long night.

©storiesoflilies 2025, all rights reserved. please do not plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my work on other sites! i only post on ao3 and tumblr.

[mariasont]

House Rules - A.H

summary: bimbo!asssitant!reader hasn't been answering her phone all day, hotch needs her to clarify something about a case report, or at least that's what he tells himself when he shows up at her house

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader

warnings: reader wearing some skimpy pjs, pre-relationship pining, hotch trying to act like he's not madly in love with reader

wc: 3.3k

Hotch wasn't sure why he'd expected your house to be normal. He chalked up his misjudgment on the haze of old injuries, the kind of logic that gets muddled when you've bled out on too many occasions. Because standing on your porch, staring at the pale pink door with a glittering Home Sweet Home sign dangling from the handle, he realized how spectacularly wrong he'd been.

It suited you, he realized. He could almost picture you hanging it there, humming to yourself and adjusting it three times before deciding it was just right.

It wasn't a social call. At least, that's what Hotch told himself repeatedly, as though the words might drown out the irrational knot of worry in his stomach. You hadn't answered your phone all day, and that was strange for you. It was your day off, yes, but normally you were over-communicative to a fault, texting emojis when a simple yes would have sufficed, or leaving voicemail messages that somehow turned into tangents about your neighbor's cat, your favorite polish color, or the iced coffee you'd spilled that morning.

But today? Nothing. No texts. No calls. Nothing.

His rational mind told him you were fine. Phones die, phones get left behind, people turn them off to take a break. But when it came to you, the rational part of him always seemed to lose ground to the side of him he didn't care to admit existed—the side that careful just a little bit more than he should have.

He knocked.

After a second, he heard the unmistakable sound of your voice yelling a muffled coming!

The door opened, and there you stood, wearing something that could only be called pajamas by the loosest of definitions—shorts that left far too much skin exposed and a matching top that hugged your chest like it was afraid to let go. Your hair was loose and slightly messy, framing your face, and your bare feet peeked out from under the door.

"Oh!" You froze and looked at him like he had fallen from the sky. "Hotch! What are you doing here?"

Hotch cleared his throat and he tried, tried, to keep his eyes glued to your face. It was harder than it should have been—his brain wasn't helping, already memorizing every detail of your appearance that he knew he shouldn't have noticed.

"Do you always answer the door like this?"

"Like what?"

"Dressed like..." He hesitated, jaw clenching as he searched his vocabulary for a word that wouldn't sound entirely inappropriate. "Dressing like that. Without knowing who is on the other side."

"Hotch," you said, smiling slightly. "I could tell it wasn't a stranger."

"How?" he asked flatly, raising a brow. "Because if you tell me it was a feeling, I'm going to be very disappointed in you."

"So what are you doing here?"

You ignored him, smiling innocently as though he hadn't spoken at all.

He almost started to lecture you—about answering doors, about caution, about everything—but the words died before they reached his tongue. You were fine. Perfectly fine. Not injured, not in danger, not lying in a hospital bed or worse—just standing there, unharmed, while he tried to shake off the residual tension of imaging all of the worst-case scenarios he'd been wrestling with the past hour.

"You weren't answering your phone." His voice came out sharper than he meant, but he didn't correct it.

You stared at him before letting out an incredulous laugh. "Okay, but like... that's usually not cause for a wellness check."

"It's unusual for you."

His own voice sounded defensive in his ears, and he winced inwardly.

Your lips shot upwards as if you had discovered his game, leaning on the door frame with your arms crossed. "Aw, were you worried about me, bossman?"

His response didn't come as quickly as it usually did, his eyes scanning your face like he was trying to decipher something. "I needed to confirm something about the case report."

"Sure, you did." You tilted your head, smile widening as you let the words linger. "Well, since you're already here, might as well come in. I'd hate for you to leave empty-handed."

Hotch hesitated. The professional part of him—the one that lived and breathed protocol—told him to stay outside, finish his excuse, and leave. Normally, he wouldn't have thought twice about saying yes to an invitation like this. He'd done it for Morgan, for Emily, even Spencer without a second thought. But this wasn't them. This was you. But then you gave him that look— raised eyebrows, half a grin, daring him to prove you wrong—and against better judgment, he stepped inside.

The inside of your house was... well, it was you.

It wasn't messy, but it wasn't neat either. It was softer than he expected. Fluffy throw blankets over the couch with heart shaped pillows. On the coffee table, a collection of framed photos—pictures of you with friends, family, and even what looked to be an embarrassing prom photo.

"So?" You moved across the room, draping yourself onto the arm of the couch like a cat in the sun, one leg swinging lazily. "What's the big emergency, Hotchner?"

"I told you," he replied, squinting his eyes at you as if that would somehow change your attitude. It wouldn't. He knew from experience. "The case report. You stapled the wrong attachment to it. I need to know where the correct file is."

"Uh-huh," you said, squinting your own eyes back as if to mock him. "And this couldn't just wait until the morning? You sure you didn't just miss me?"

His brow furrowed. "Why would I--"

You were on your feet in an instant, wagging a finger at him like he'd crossed a sacred line. "Don't you dare finish that sentence, Hotchner!"

He blinked, staring at you like you'd just started reciting Shakespeare for no reason.

"You'll hurt my feelings," you said matter-of-factly. "And then I'll have no choice to pout. You'll feel guilty, you always do. And to make it up to me, you'll bring coffee tomorrow. So honestly, let's just skip all that and pretend you never wanted to finish that sentence."

He exhaled through his nose. "I was going to say, why would I miss you when I see you nearly every day?"

"Good." The smile was back on your face in a way that, annoyingly, made him feel better. "Because it's my day off, and you're forbidden from being mean to me on my day off."

"Are you implying I'm mean to you on your regular days?"

You tapped your chin as if seriously considering it. "Not mean, exactly... maybe a little grumpy sometimes."

Hotch huffed. "I'm grumpy with you?"

"Sometimes," you said with a shrug. "But it's okay. I like all your sides—even the grumpy one."

"I'm not grumpy with you," he replied, shaking his head. "If anything, I'm nicer to you than I should be."

"You big softie."

Hotch felt his lips twitch, and he hated how much effort it took to keep from smiling. He was not a soft person. He wasn't the type to let people get under his skin, and yet here you were managing to do it with a single sentence. Worse, he didn't exactly dislike it. In fact, it felt... oddly welcome.

It was different from how you were at work—though, in fairness, you weren't exactly buttoned-up in the office, either.

"Did you make those?" He glanced briefly at the tray of cookies in the kitchen.

Your face lit up and you practically bounded over to the counter, grabbing the tray and holding it up like a trophy. "Yep! Chocolate chip. Want one?"

Hotch hesitated for a second, then followed you into the kitchen, his gaze sweeping over the space despite himself. He didn't mean to do it—it wasn't intentional—but the part of him trained to notice every detail, every inconsistency, was already at work. Old habits die hard, or something like that.

The kitchen suited you. Soft pastel hues and floral details everywhere. Pink pots and pans hung along the wall, a lace-trimmed over mitt dangling from a hook shaped like a star. Fresh flowers—peonies or roses—he wasn't sure, sat in a vase on the counter.

He shook his head, trying—and failing—to shut off that instinct to analyze. But it was almost automatic, his mind piecing things together, like the organization of the baking tools and the open cookbook, pages slightly smudged.

"Are you just gonna stand there, or are you gonna grab one?"

He looked at you, then at the cookies, and finally took one with a small nod of thanks. "You bake often?"

He didn't really need to ask—you felt far too comfortable in this space for the answer to be anything but yes.

"Oh, all the time," you said, turning to put the tray back down. "It's, like, my stress reliever. Plus, it makes the house smell amazing. Not that I'm, like, stressed or anything--just saying. It's a hobby. A cute hobby."

He bit into the cookie, ignoring the sweetness for a second as he glanced around again. The pink gingham tablecloth on the island, the mugs arranged by color.

"Anything else you need? Or can I get back to my cookies and reality TV?"

He glanced toward the TV, where some kind of dramatic argument was unfolding on screen, and then back to you. "You should charge your phone."

"Yes, Daddy," you said, before going stiff. "No! I didn’t mean—like—not that Daddy. Just… regular Dad."

His body went rigid, his jaw tightening as he forced himself not to react, shoving the thought out of his mind before it could take hold.

"Right," he said finally, voice rougher than usual. "Charge your phone."

Hotch stepped toward the door, his hand already reaching for the handle when your voice stopped him.

"No, Hotch's don't leave!"  you said, your voice dipping into a whine that should've been annoying. "I'm bored!"

Keep word—should.

He turned back, brows lifted. "Bored?"

"Yes, bored," you said, flopping back onto the couch with a dramatic sigh. "I've already watched two hours of reality TV, ate like, five cookies, and had an entire conversation with myself while I folded laundry. And now you're here, and I haven't had company in forever, and you're just gonna leave me all alone?"

“Forever,” he repeated dryly. “So the 24 hours since I saw you at work?”

"That doesn't count. Work doesn't count as, like, real social interaction. It's work."

He gave you a look—one of those deadpan, unreadable stares that was meant to shut down further argument. That obviously didn't work.

"You're really going to leave me all alone? In my time of need? I thought you cared about me, Hotch."

"You're not in your time of need."

"Emotionally, I am," you said, crossing your arms and leaning back like you’d just made the world’s most convincing argument. "Please, Aaron? Just hang out with me for a little bit. One show. It'll make my whole day."

The way you said his name—Aaron—hit him in a way that felt decidedly too intimate, too casual, too... something. He clenched his jaw briefly, trying to shake off the sensation as he shot you another look.

"Since when do you call me that?"

"Since now," you replied with a shrug, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "It suits you."

His brows furrowed. "It's my name."

"Exactly," you said, leaning forward. "We're not at work. You came into my house. It's all casual here. You're Aaron now. Just go with it."

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works,” he replied, though his voice lacked conviction.

"It does now," you said, patting the couch beside you. "So, Aaron, are you gonna sit down? Just ten minutes."

With a reluctant sigh, he lowered himself onto the couch, his posture still stiff.

"Wow," you said, scooting so close that your thigh pressed against his. "I didn't think that was actually going to work."

You leaned across the coffee table to grab a blanket, shorts riding up with the motion. Hotch's eyes darted away immediately, landing on the far corner of the room as though it held something deeply fascinating.

His hand clenched into a fist on his thigh, nails pressing into his palm. His knuckles whitened slightly as he tried to force his thoughts back into neutral territory, focusing on his breathing instead of the shape of your ass.

By the time you turned back, oblivious, and tossed the blanket over both of you, he'd managed to school his face into its usual unreadable expression—though he couldn't quite fix the pressure building in his chest.

"So," you began, holding up the remote, "what's it gonna be? Reality TV? A baking show? Or, oh, those ones where they renovate houses, but everything goes horribly wrong."

"You pick." He shifted, trying to put even an inch more space between you, but you didn't seem to notice, too preoccupied with tucking the blanket around you both.

"Okay, but don't blame me if you get hooked. I'm just saying, this stuff is addictive."

He leaned back shaking his, but his focus never really landed on the TV. Instead, it stayed on you—laughing at the wrong moments, gasping dramatically at plot twists, and making snarky commentary under your breath.

"You know," you said suddenly, glancing over at him with a sly smile, "you're kind of cute when you're pretending to relax."

"Do you ever stop talking?" he asked, though the lack of bite in his tone made it sound almost too fond.

"Nope," you said cheerfully, pulling the blanket tighter around you. “Consider it part of the package.”

Hotch didn't respond, his attention shifting back to the screen—or at least, that's what he told himself. But as the minutes stretched into fifteen, then twenty, he realized he wasn't in any hurry to leave.

You fell asleep thirty minutes later.

Hotch wasn't surprised. Between the pile of blankets, you'd wrapped yourself in and the way you'd curled up on the couch like it was your safe haven, it was a miracle you'd lasted that long. He'd noticed your eyelids drooping about five minutes earlier, your commentary fading into soft hums of acknowledgment as you sank deeper into the cushions.

The room was quiet now except for the sound of the TV. He shifted in his seat, glancing over at you. You were entirely still, your breathing slow. Your hair had fallen across your face, and the blanket had slipped off your shoulder, leaving your tank top askew.

It was weird, seeing you like this. You, who were always moving and talking and saying things he never really knew how to respond to. Now you looked so soft, completely oblivious to how much space you were taking up in his head. 

He told himself to leave. Just slip out, lock the door, and let you sleep. That would’ve been the smart thing. The right thing. But he didn’t. Maybe it was the thought of you waking up, groggy and alone, wondering where he’d gone. Or maybe it was the realization that you were still his responsibility, even outside of work.

He leaned forward reluctantly, one hand brushing the blanket back over your shoulder. He told himself it was just a gentlemanly gesture, the kind anyone would do, but the second his fingers grazed you, he froze.

You murmured something under your breath, unintelligible really, your head shifting as you face turned toward him. He snatched his hand back like he'd touched something scalding. 

"Come on," he muttered under his breath. He slid one arm beneath your knees and the other around your back, lifting you easily.

Your head fell against his shoulder the second he straightened. He swallowed. Your bedroom. Where was it? He glanced down the hall. Left or right? The door slightly ajar felt like the most obvious choice, and sure enough, when he nudged it open with his foot, he found himself standing right where he anticipated.

Pinks, florals, lace-trimmed, well, everything. The bed was covered in more pillows than he could count in every possible shade of pastel. It smelled like you—roses and vanilla, with something sweeter lingering underneath, like sugar from a bakery.

But then his eyes snagged on the rack of nightgowns against the far wall, like it wasn't about to cause an existential crisis. 

Lace. Sheer. Satin.

He shouldn't be looking at them. He knew he shouldn't be looking at them, and yet... he couldn't stop. The imagine of you wearing one slipped into his mind before he could stop it. That was a problem—he could see you in them, and now he had to wrestle with that mental image while pretending to be a gentleman.

He bit down on the inside of his check, hard enough to sting, and forced himself to look back at the bed. This wasn’t the time—or the place—for thoughts like that. Hell, there wasn’t ever a time for them. 

He eased you onto the mattress, his hands far softer than he thought himself capable of. He straightened, watching as you instinctively curled into the covers, your hair fanning across the pillow like some picture-perfect cliché.

Then you stirred, eyes fluttering open just enough to meet his. 

"Hotch?" you murmured, your voice thick with sleep.

"It's okay," he said softly. "Go back to sleep."

You blinked slowly, gaze still hazy. "You're still here?"

"I didn't want to leave you on the couch. You looked too uncomfortable."

Your lips curved into a small, sleepy smile as you sank back into the pillows. "That's... sweet. I didn't think you did stuff like that."

He huffed softly, shaking his head. "There are a lot of things you don't know about me."

Your smile widened lazily, your half-lidded eyes sparkling with amusement. "Mysterious and chivalrous. You’re gonna ruin my whole perception of you.”

"Sleep," he said firmly, though there was no real heat behind the command.

Your gaze shifted past him, landing on the rack against the wall.

"Did you see those?" you asked. He hesitated—too long for it to go unnoticed—and your grin turned sly. "You did see them, didn't you?"

"They're hard to miss," he admitted, his voice carefully neutral.

"Bet you weren't expecting that, huh?" you teased, leaning your head against the pillow. “So? Thoughts?”

"I think," he said evenly, "you ask too many questions when you’re supposed to be sleeping.”

You laughed softly, the sound trailing off like a dream. “You’re dodging, Aaron. I didn’t know you could dodge.”

He sighed, stepping back as though the distance might save him. "You're good at this."

"Good at what?"

"Pushing buttons," he replied. “You’re a natural.”

"And yet, you're still here."

He didn't have the words for that. Because you were right, and he didn't know what to do about that.

Your eyes fluttered closed, your body slackening into the bed, and he thought you were asleep.

Then you spoke again, quieter this time, as if testing the words before committing to them. “Why’d you really come here?”

He stilled. "I told you. You weren't answering your phone. The case report."

The explanation felt flimsy, even to him, and he hated how obvious it sounded.

"That's not it," you whispered, your eyes still closed. "You could've just waited until tomorrow. You didn't have to check on me. But you did."

Hotch didn’t move, his breath catching as he studied you. Your face, relaxed and peaceful, gave no indication whether you knew what kind of mess you were making of him in that moment.

“It’s okay,” you mumbled, the faintest hint of a smile brushing your lips. "I think I like it when you worry about me. Feels nice."

You didn’t say anything else, your breathing softening as sleep took over again.

Hotch stayed where he was, rooted to the spot. Your words replayed like a deadly loop in his head.

He finally tore his gaze away, stepping back and slipping out of the room with careful movements. He closed the door behind him as softly as he could, but even then, the sound felt too loud.

For a second, he lingered in the hallway, staring at door like it might offer him some form of an answer. He'd drawn a line with you a thousand times in his head, a boundary he vowed not to cross. And yet, like you said, he was still here, standing in your home.

He shook his head and turned toward the front door. He wouldn't cross the line—but gods help him, staying on the right side of it felt harder every time.

taglist: @readergf @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179 @malindacath @broadwaytraaaaash @sunfyyre @sleepysongbirdsings @trulycayla @crouchingapple @navia3000 @aaronlovesava @bakugocanstompme @pansexualhailstorm @averyhotchner @looking1016 @everythinglizzy @sky2nd @alexxavicry @spencerssatchel @candyd1es @storiesofsvu @pleasantgardenwitch @kodzukenmaa @hiireadstuff @dilflover-3 @spennciesslut @phoenix-le-danseur-de-pole @jstcln @just-here-to-read13 @c-losur3 @wondergal2001 @oliver-1270 @ssahotchbabe @savagemickey03 @justanotherbimboslxt @imoonkiss @estragos @khxna @de-duchess @raysmayhem-72 @piinksdoll @justyourusualash @whimsicalpolitical @kcch-ns @cool-light32 @reidfile @sugarbutterbailey @ssamorganhotchner @persephonestears @moonyxstars @spookyysinsanity @proxxyshouse @spoolsofgreenspoolsofblack @imsonotweird @jungchloe @she-wont-miss @duchesz @may-machin99 @historicallyweirdandqueer @in-the-kosmos @lcvealwayss @p13rc3-th3-m4tt13 @babyhoneybyhs @reire11

[legalandnotease]

Imagine if a person with PTSD had a bad dream and as a result of that dream, built up a cache of weapons. Then kept messing with one of the weapons that happened to be highly explosive. The weapon expoded, and the explosion destroyed his entire apartment block, killing everyone in it.

Guess what? He's still gonna be held responsible for what he did! PTSD is not a "get out of jail free" card.

Imagine if a person who ran a company which produced highly dangerous products was taking drugs, and as a result that they let health and safety standards slip. This results in major accident happened in their company which killed people.

Guess what? He's still gonna be held responsible, because taking drugs is not a get-out-of jail free card. In fact, a person in a position of responisibility knowingly taking drugs is going to be held more responsible because they knew those drugs could impact their capacity to make rational descisions, and still chose to take them.

If a person went out and killed a ton of people to "protect their family", they are still a mass murderer. If a person joined a terrorist organization to "stop their loved ones dying" they still joined a terrorist organization.

Tony's "good intentions" are an excuse. Thanos said he was trying to prevent the next masss extinction event. HYDRA said they were bringing peace and freedom to the world. If a person does something bad which causes mass death with good intentions, it does not make what they did good.

And no, Tony wasn't groomed. Iron Man 1 makes it very clear TOny knew what his father did, he was proud of it. He explicity cited his father's words to justify weapons manufacturing. "My father said the man with the biggest stick wins the fight"

Tony is 38 in Iron man

38

He is not a little child who had no idea what he was doing. He's a genius who is more than smart enough to know what missiles and bombs do.

He is a grown-ass adult who is more than capable of running a company.

Just because Tony died doing the first decent thing he ever did in his life, it does not exonerate him of all the damage and death that he caused before. It does not erase his support of fascists and authoritarian war criminals. it does not exonerate him of building weapon after weapon which repeatedly killed innocents. EDITH, the Iron Legion, Ultron.

It always amuses me how Tony fans try to use "trauma" as an excuse for Tony's actions when every single member of the Avengers team have PTSD, as do various other characters in the MCU. Yet not of them act like fuckwits and build WMDs every time they have a flashback. Bucky has PTSD: but if Bucky fans used PTSD as an excuse for everything he did, imagine the screeching.

But isn't it funny.... Bucky was a literal Prisoner of War, forced against his will and with his mind literally scrambled beyond recognition to kill Tony's parents. Literally captured, tortured and hypnotized into it. (The very things they use to excuse Tony's weapons manufacturing....)

Yet Tony fans still say that he was "100% responsible" and "his body did it" and therefore he deserves to die. (Tony's body built Ultron so I guess he's responsible too, by the same standards....)?

They don't blame the HYDRA handlers who planned the operation. They don't blame the person who told them about Stark's serum (which may well have been Stane) They blame the weapon who had no control, agency or capacity to make a choice being used by others for their ends.

They then have the audacity to tell you Tony was justified in trying to murder the man who he *knew* wasn't in control because he had hurt feelsies. (and of course Bucky is not deserving of redemption or a second chance because "he killed people"- as though Natasha, Clint and Tony didn't). All the while demanding that you forgive and forget Tony's destructive actions on the grounds that he "was trying to protect people" when he crushed women and children to death.

The selfsame Tony fans will then look you in the eye and tell you that because Tony had trauma and good intentions he is not to blame for doing things which caused millions of deaths. Even though he had a choice, agency and free will all the way.

Tony fans do not even have the self-awareness to comprehend their own double standards and hypocrisy/. All because they cannot bear the thought of Tony Sftark having flaws and being held responsible for the shit he did.

everyone always focuses on Sokovia and Ultron and Tony's involvement but no one ever thinks about how Bruce was also involved completely because they're both scientists. no one thinks about Wanda purposefully going in and digging in Tony's head, amplifying his PTSD and putting visions of all his friends dead in his head with the intent of making Tony create Ultron

Everyone always focuses on blaming Tony for the bomb that killed Wanda's parents but no one thinks about Tony being so shit faced he couldn't see straight at that time bec he was so deep in self-medicating his trauma that he could not even run his company and that it was Obidiah Stane that was the one in charge of the company and illegally selling the weapons that killed her parents

Everyone focuses on Tony selling weapons in the first movie but no one thinks about how it was Howard Starks company and that Tony was groomed from birth to run it and that he had tried multiple times to make something else of the company but was constantly shut down with guilt tripping until he was kidnapped and he forced the manufacturing to end

Everyone focuses on Tony being "conceited" and "arrogant" and not "caring about anyone but himself" but no one thinks about how every single action he makes in his movies are about protecting the people he loves and cares for. His biggest fear is his friends- not himself- dying. he goes into every battle he's in fully prepared to die and does make the sacrifice play many many times

everyone always focuses on what Tony did wrong, but no one thinks about how much he has grown and how he spends every single waking moment trying to be a better and better man who cares so deeply about everyone and is trying to protect everyone the only way he knows how- and that is with the brain and intellect that had been the only thing about Tony that was ever praised about

[madebycloud]

What Would I Do Without You?

jinx/powder x reader — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

summary: you've been through hell and back with jinx, and despite it all, you couldn't leave her behind. (requested by anons) warnings/themes: HEAVY ANGST, character death (reader), blood, hurt no comfort harhar words: 2.6k notes: first time writing something so angsty like this haha i hope this is angsty enough... (this takes place when jinx rescued isha in prison) a repost cz tumblr is shti!

You could run.

You could run right now, escape with Isha and Sevika.

But-

How can you? You can't just leave Jinx alone—not now. Not after everything. Not when she's facing off against this monster.

Why didn't you listen?

Why did you have to play the hero?

Why, why, did you choose to stay?

“What are you doing?!” Jinx screams.

And that's the last thing you hear before you face off against the beast, watching as it launches itself at you-

At the last minute, you duck.

Too slow.

Too slow and too late.

In one quick motion, the beast tears into you.

It claws straight at your stomach-

You can feel the air leave your lungs.

You hit the ground.

Blood blossoms on your shirt.

But… it worked. The beast backed away. It fled.

You managed to scare it. You've saved Jinx. You've protected her. This is a victory.

Yet-

Why do you hurt so badly?

You look down, and your stomach is-

Oh.

Oh no...

Everything is red.

There's blood. There's blood everywhere.

Your blood.

You hear the sound of running footsteps. “NO!”

It's her voice.

“PLEASE, NO!” Jinx kneels next to you.

Your mind goes hazy, clouded by pain.

Arms grab you and move you into a sitting position. She's holding you. “Please, please,” she's sobbing as she puts pressure on the wound. “You're going to be okay. You're going to be fine.” You know that's a lie.

You cough. Red bubbles on your lips and slides down your chin.

“No, no, you're okay,” she repeats. “Don't go,” she sobs. “Don't you dare go. Look at me. Look at me.” She grabs your face, trying to angle your face up towards hers. “Please, stay with me. Stay. With. Me."

You feel so tired. You want to sleep.

But she needs you to stay here.

“Sevika!” she screams into nothingness, holding you tighter. “I need help, please come over here!”

The pain is still there, but the adrenaline is starting to wear off.

Your body hurts. Your eyelids flutter, but you force yourself to focus on her face.

She's crying. Her whole body is shaking. She's a wreck, but even like this, she's the most breathtaking you've ever seen.

You think that if you were to die, you'd want the last thing you ever saw to be her face.

She's still holding your head as she screams for help. “SOMEBODY—SOMEBODY PLEASE GET OVER HERE!”

Your body is getting cold. You can hear your pulse, thump, thump, thump, thump, in your head.

There's an arm around your back, supporting you as you slowly slump against her. Your head rests on her chest, and you can hear her heart beating loudly.

“I'm scared,” she whimpers. “I'm so scared.”

She is scared.

She's scared that she'll never taste your lips, never feel your breath on her neck.

She's scared that she'll never again feel your fingers on her hip, or your hands on her waist, or your face in her hair.

She's scared that you'll never hold her close, or tease her, or say her name in a way that makes her heart flutter.

She's scared that this is her last moment with you.

“Jinx.” You call her name one last time, her heart breaking when she hears how labored your voice is. It sounds so unlike you.

“No, no, don't say my name like that,” she begs. “Don't say my name like that—it can't be. Please, it can't be.”

She's crying, her tears fall onto your face. You taste saline and sweat and sadness.

You look into her eyes. Those beautiful eyes, full of tears. The eyes that made your heart pound faster and faster whenever you met her gaze.

You think of her face, her laugh, her smile. You think of her hand in yours and the way she looks in the light of dawn. You try to remember her smell, her voice, her skin.

You know this is probably the last time you'll ever be this close to her.

You love her so much.

You try to reach up and touch her face, to wipe away her tears. Your muscles protest and scream at the movement. But you try, anyway.

She catches your hand, presses it against her cheek. Her skin is warm and soft, and you memorize the feeling of it. You hope you'll always remember how her face feels.

“I love you,” you manage to say.

Her lower lip trembles. “What?”

“I love you.”

“No, no, no… don't say that,” she cries. “Don't say that. You're staying right here. You aren't going anywhere.”

She can't let you go. Not like this. Not after she just got you. Not after being so close to a life together. Not after finding someone who loves her so much.

You'd give anything for a few more minutes together. An hour, a day, a week.

You want to stay with her. 

You want to stay and be with her and see her grow into the woman you know she'll be. You want to watch those eyes light up at a joke and see her smile. You want to sit by her side as she laughs and talk to her for hours. You want to hold her, for as long as you can, and tell her you love her.

You try to muster a smile. “It's okay,” you whisper. “I'm here, right now. I'm… I'm not going anywhere,” you lie.

She nods. She tries to wipe away her tears.

“Please don't cry. You're too pretty to cry.”

She scoffs as she smiles through her tears. You love her like this. Even just hearing her scoff, even if she's upset, makes you happy. 

“I'm a mess,” she says. “I'm a crying, snotty mess.”

“I'll love you anyway.” 

“Don't say that,” she pleads. “Don't say that, please.”

“Why?”

Her voice breaks. “If you keep saying things like that, I'm not going to be strong enough to let you go.”

“You won't have to.”

“Don't say that either,” she whispers. “Don't make promises you can't keep.”

“I'm right here.” You try to speak louder. “I'm not going anywhere.”

“Stop. You don't know that.”

And you don't. But you want to believe it. Oh, god, if anything, you want to be right.

You reach up again, brush the hair from her face. You try to be gentle so she won't notice how much it's hurting you to move at all.

“Please tell me a story,” you breathe. “Please. I want to hear your voice.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Anything… anything at all.”

She takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly, and bites her lip in thought. “Okay,” she says after a moment. “I… I have an idea. Do you want to hear it? It's a story, if—if that's okay.”

You slowly nod and take her hand. She's shaking so hard. You run your thumb over her knuckles. 

“When I was a little girl,” she starts quietly. “I used to watch the stars. They were so pretty… I'd stay up past my bedtime, just sitting by the window and trying to find the brightest ones in the sky. I always looked for that one star, and I knew I could find it no matter what time it was. I know it's silly…”

It doesn't feel silly to you. You like that she's talking, and even if it's a dumb story, just hearing her is making you feel better. 

“I—I wanted to know if there were worlds up there. I didn't know about planets and stars yet, so I'd sit there in my room and imagine all these worlds, full of people who had entire lives I couldn't dream of.”

Closing your eyes, you focus on the sound of her voice.

This is the last time you'll get to hear her talk. The last time you'll get to see her. The last time you'll get to hear her voice. The last time you'll feel her touch. The last time you'll get to be with her.

You smile.

Despite the pain.

You smile.

Even as things start to grow dark.

You smile.

Because even though it won't be for much longer, you know she's still out there.

And she will find her way through this, because you know she can.

Even without you.

“Whenever I couldn't fall asleep,” she continues, “I'd look at the stars and imagine what it was like to live there and what people there were like. I liked to think people on the other worlds would look up and see the same stars and wonder the same things, just like I was. I wanted to see those stars and know that, even if I was by myself in my room, I wasn't really alone.”

“I wanted to know what it was like to explore those other worlds,” Jinx murmurs. “What it was like to be one of those people, with real adventures and fun and families. No rules, just… freedom.”

She keeps talking and talking and talking and-

She notices your hands. Cold. No.

Her hands are shaking, but she reaches out. She reaches for your cheek, caressing it as her fingers tremble. Her hand trembles, and she can't focus on anything but the fact that she's touching your skin, that she's touching you-

She feels the blood on her fingers, trickling down her hand, but she pushes that out of her mind. She doesn't care. You're the most important thing. Always.

She watches your chest, your stomach, waiting for a twitch, a breath, anything to show her that you're still here. That her worst nightmare isn't happening right in front of her eyes.

But there's nothing.

She presses her ear to your chest. Come on, she thinks desperately. Come on, please.

Silence.

Her fingers fumble to find your pulse on your neck.

Nothing.

Her world collapses around her.

No.

No, not like this.

Tears blur her vision. She blinks them away, trying to fight off the tears so she can see you. Can't see you. She doesn't want to. She can't. Not now.

One minute.

Just one more minute, that's all.

Just a few more seconds.

Please.

There's a pressure growing in her chest. It's so tight, it's hard to breathe. She can't breathe. Why can't she breathe? She needs to breathe. She needs to breathe, she needs to breathe, she can't stop crying, she can't stop because you're-

No, no, no. Don't think it, don't think it, don't think it-

“Hey, c'mon,” she says. “This isn't funny. Wake up.” She grabs your shoulders, shaking you. “Wake. Up.”

You're not moving. You're not talking. You're just-

Cold, limp. Nothing's different.

Please, not like this.

“You can't do this.”

Please.

“You have to wake up.”

Please!

“You have to wake up.”

Please, please, please, please.

“You don't just—you don't just get to do this to me!”

This isn't real.

It can't be real.

She closes her eyes.

She reopens them, looking down at your body.

It's real.

“Please wake up! I need—I need you, please.”

She's begging you, to the wind, to the moon, to the stars, that maybe if she pleaded hard enough, hard enough to the whole universe itself, maybe fate would be on her side just this once.

But fate was never on her side.

Life did this to her, it took everything she had and loved and was precious, it took away the only person she knew loved her. Life wasn't good, it was cruel and cold and harsh, and it was taking away everything she had. It was taking everything.

She hates this.

She hates what life was doing to her, what it had done to her. She wants to scream and pull her hair out. She wants to burn the world down and scream at the top of her lungs, at life, at the whole universe, begging it to bring you back.

Just. Bring. You. Back.

How many times had she watched you laugh, watched you smile, and done something as simple as breathing? How often had she watched you speak and talk and joke about something?

How many times had she told you she loved you, how many hours had you lost track of just the two of you talking? How many good moments had the two of you had that she would never be able to experience again?

It had been taken away from her.

You'd never laugh or smile again, that beautiful voice of yours is only a memory now.

And it hurts.

It hurts so much to think about how she's never going to hear your voice. How she's never going to see you walking around the hideout again. She'll never be able to see the smile you give every time she says something stupid.

She'll never be able to hold your hands, to kiss you, to lay her head on your lap. She'll never get to hear you laugh or feel your hands on hers.

She loved you. Every piece of you.

Every smile.

Every laugh.

Every word.

Every tear.

Every kiss.

Every touch.

Every moment.

Every single time.

Every single time you were there for her.

Every single time that you'd given her the best hugs when she'd cried on your shoulder.

Every single time the two of you slept on a small couch just so she could feel safe.

Every single time you'd hold her in your arms.

Every single time you talked her out of a bad mood.

She'll never get to have those again.

She'll never get to experience all of those wonderful, beautiful things again.

And she wants to do it one more time.

One more time to hear you laugh. One more time to feel you put your arms around her. One more time, she wants you to tell her everything is going to be alright. To take her face in your hands, look into her eyes, and say that.

Just one more.

Because what would she do without you?

How would she go on living without you when you were the person who had kept her going for months?

For the longest time, you were the one person that she trusted. The one person that she felt safe with.

Without that, what was the point?

She can still remember the first time she met you. She can still remember the butterflies in her stomach each time she saw you, the way her heart raced whenever you spoke to her. She can still remember that first, awkward kiss, how you held her close in your arms afterwards and didn't let go.

She can still remember the first time the two of you had said, “I love you.”

It was so hard for her to say it because she hadn't felt loved in a long time. And she's nervous, she's scared. But you spoke first, you pulled her close.

It was a whisper, a quiet “I love you” spoken in her ear. And then she started crying, she turned and buried herself in your arms.

I love you.

She'll never hear those words again.

But she can still remember what you sounded like.

That had to be enough.

That has to be enough.

Those three words have to be enough for her.

They have to be.

But they weren't.

Because now, you are gone.

“I love you too,” she murmurs. “So much-”

But there's no one to hear it.

She closes her eyes again, letting the tears roll down her face.

This is what love is, she thinks.

This is what loving someone does to you.

She'd never hated something so much in her life.

“How am I supposed to live without you?”

notes: forgot that singed is literally right there… (might write pt2)

[limarkova]

Yandere Batfam x Neglected Reader x Yandere Al Ghuls

Pt 8

Prev

Author's note: Sorry it took so long. I rewrote this whole chapter because I was just not happy with it. Though I am glad I took the time because this chapter feels more critical than what I would have released. Plus college and work have been a hot mess, so updates might be slower but they should be same quality.

You sat at the breakfast table by yourself. Last night you could barely sleep after burning the blood cover clothes. In the end you had maybe one or two hours of sleep. Giving up at 6:30am you went down early for breakfast.

There was a yawn from the hallway shortly before Barbara rolled into the dining room. She stopped at the entrance to the room, blinking at you. "Oh morning. You're up early."

"So are you. Or do you count this as late?" You leaned back in your chair. One of the books you had gotten with Duke in your hands. There was a decent calm but you still didn't like the quiet.

Barbara rolled closer to you. She stopped when she was sitting next you. Placing her hands on the table, she took a deep breath. You paused your reading to look her. She had a look on her face that told you she was about to ask questions. You shifted yourself away from her slightly, "Don’t. Please just don't."

"I'm trying to find who hurt you (Name). I just... I need a little more information to work with." Barbara leaned forward bracing her arms on the table. "I know you got upset with Dick for asking..."

You scoffed closing your book, "Babs. Please just drop it. I guarantee you that you're not going to like or find anything I tell you useful."

"I want to help you get the justice you deserve." Barbara reached a hand out to you. An olive branch. You almost reached back, almost told her everything but stopped yourself.

The devastation you felt at learning everything was a lie. That the person you trusted not only failed you but almost certainly betrayed you. It was destroying some integral in you. Could you do that to someone? Sure you had committed murder but Davis had deserved for taking part in your suffering. Plus you let him die with his world view intact. But Barbara?

"Would still wish to get me justice if you learn that someone important was involved?" This was your test for her. If she didn't hesitate or ask questions, than you'd tell her. If she showed you she was sure she wanted to go down that road than you'd tell her.

Barbara blinked at question. Eyebrows throughing, she opened her mouth than closed it. You deflated when she asked the last thing you wanted to hear, "What do you mean?"

"Nevermind..." You grabbed your book. It was funny to you in a way that the book you were reading was about a girl discovering her world was lie while you lived through it.

Barbara grabbed your hand. There was desperation in her tone, "(Name), please tell me. I want to help you in anyway I can."

"I don't know their names, just faces." You pulled your hand from hers. This was not going to end well. It was only necessary to punish the guilty, not the innocent. Not Barbara, especially if she was telling the truth.

But what if this was a lie? Your chest tied itself up into knots. Was this another misstep that would tip Bruce off to you knowing he was involved. If Barbara told him, or worse was involved in what happened. Shit, what were you going to do?

She grabbed your hand again refusing to let go, "I don't believe you. (Name) we're here for you, I know we let you down in the past but are we here and trying to do better. Please let us in, tell us what happened. Tell me who hurt you."

A tear slid down your face. Pure fear gripped your chest. This was a test not for her but for you. Did he know about Davis? Had killing the accountant been a mistake? You took a few deep breaths, "Barbara, please just let it go. It's not worth investigating."

"It is. You're worth investigating for."

"No, I'm not." You pulled your wrist from hers. The hollow feeling in your chest was coming back. You needed to get out of the manor, at least for a little bit. It wasn’t safe here. Turning you ran from the room.

You weren't a 100% sure where you go so long as it wasn’t there.

Tim stared at the tablet in his hands, still attempting to process the information from the Davis scene. It was a messy scene. The killer had seemingly playing the blood yet had left no finger print. Even the message on the wall didn't help identify the killer, they had it written with Davis's severed thumb. A truly demented move or a forensic counter measure. Sighing he lowered the tablet back down onto his dresser.

After adjusting his tie, Tim exited his room. Walking towards the dining room he was prepared for another sit down with (Name). What he wasn't prepared for was said girl running into him at full speed. Her hands were pressing into her chest and her breathing was frantic. Tim reached out grabbing her to keep her from tumbling to the floor.

She started to kick and claw at him. Tim held her at arm's length before pulling her in as close as he could. She was clearly have a panic attack of some kind. He focused most of the pressure of the hug on her upper chest where her hands had been digging into. She thrashed around for a bit before going limp in his arms. Tim looked at her, really looked at her for the first time in years.

She was slightly shorter than Damian. Yet she seem so much older than she was. No longer was the three year old girl that had stolen his mask. The confused and upset little girl was gone replaced with a haunted ten year old. Tim picked her up.

She was still limp and nonresponsive when Tim brought her to the living room. Setting her on the couch, he grabbed a weight blanket they had for Jason. Tim had always found her the hardest to communicate with. Out of all his siblings she was the one he knew the least about. Attempting to help her now just made that clear. It was concerning.

He was supposed to know almost everything about everyone. The genius prodigy who could tell you anything. Expect for where (Name) was concerned apparently. She really was one mystery after another. But Tim was good at solving mysteries.

"Hey, focus on my voice okay." He got her to look at him. Her stare was vacant and floated everywhere but his face. "Can you tell me five things you see around you?"

"There's..." She blinked, eyes searching the room. "Two cameras in this room, the model suggest that they have audio."

Tim blinked. She was right but those cameras were hidden. One in the bookcase by the TV and the other in the camera rod pointing towards the hallway. Her shaking didn't stop as hers eye moved between the cameras and door. "No hiding spots."

Tim stood up. First he moved the book camera so it was facing the opposite direction. She blinked mildly confused, Tim took that as a good sign. Than he turned the curtain rod so the camera was pointed to the ceiling. (Name) tilted her head to the side. Tim walk back to crouch infront her, "What are five things you can see?"

They ran through the grounding technique. At the end Tim had chosen to sit next to her. It was peacefully quiet say for the occasionally buzz of Tim's phone. He checked it to see some text messages from Barbara, Bruce, and Damian. Tim shook his head turning his buzzer off. (Name) was still shaking. Tim bit his lip, while watching, "Do you want talk about it?"

"No." She shrugged the weighted blanket off her body.

Tim nodded, "Okay. Bruce wants us to come to breakfast."

"Bruce is on business trip until Tuesday." She gave him a weird look.

Tim shook his head, "He came back early after Alfred called about you arriving suddenly. He wants to check that you're okay."

"I don't want to see him." (Name) turned away from him.

Tim blinked slowly. He remembered from before she disappeared that she had always want to see Bruce. On more occasions than he could count she had asked him give the man invites to open houses, art displays, science fairs, and school plays. She had always wanted her dad to be there. For that to have changed, something truly bad must of happened.

Maybe she didn't feel like she deserved to be near Bruce. Tim knew he struggled with that after Junior. It took time to mend his relationship with Bruce. Maybe that's what she needed, time. Tim could give her some time, "That’s okay, but we probably should still get something to eat."

"Right." She nodded at Tim hollowly. She bit her lip slightly, "did Jason come back to the manor last night?"

"No, not yet but I can message him and tell him you're asking about him." Tim pulled his phone out, ready to send the message.

"No, it's fine...I have to go the library today." She started to mess with her fingers looking towards the window. Tim patted her on the shoulder.

"I'll grab something from the kitchen and give you a ride to the library. Any requests?"

"Do we still have GoGurt?"

Jason shoved another piece of burned debris out of his way. Just as suspected the address the guards had given them was also torched. There were signs that the people involved had taken the lighter equipment. Sparking cords hung from the ceiling with old broken cameras. A few still had scalpels sticking out of them.

"Dude what are we doing here?" Roy Harper asked from behind Jason. After storming out of the manor, Jason made a few calls. The Outlaws now walked behind him in the destroyed building. Bizarro, Artemis, Kori, and Roy had all answered his call to track some people down for 'personal reasons'.

"Remember when I told I have a little sister." Jason said while kicking open a door. It opened to what the sources had called the Main Hall. There was rubble blocking the path to the rooms in the hallway. Evidence pointed towards them detonating a small bomb in the hall way. Her cell was located on the left hand side, the door hanging open. There were four other doors down the hallway. Jason only knew what one of them was, which was a locker room across from her cell.

"Me no remember" Bizarro called from behind him. There were sounds of confirmation from the others. It might have been words, Jason honestly didn't care.

"Turns out she wasn't at that boarding school in Shanghai like I had thought she was." He hated having to admit that but these guys would get it. He hoped. They knew how he almost visited her everytime they were China. Now he wished he hadn't stopped himself, hadn't let her go.

"Wait, wha... Oh shit.", Roy put the pieces together quickly. He began to look around the charred remains of the facility with horror. Out of all his friends, Jason figure would understand the most. "She was here wasn't she and not for good reasons."

Jason nodded to Roy assessment, "We think they were preforming experiments to try and create Meta Humans."

"Oh, The poor thing. What do you need us to do?" Kori started to move debris out of the way. Artemis began helping in moving rubble. They made a clearing to the rest of the doors.

Jason sighed shoving open the door to the locker room. All of the lockers were tumbled over. Most of them looked empty but Jason still pointed towards the room, "We're looking for anything that could be a clue as to who these bastards are."

"Misunderstood." Bizarro said with a nod. With that he headed into the locker room. Set the lockers upright, he checked inside for anything useful. Jason pointedly ignore the room Kori entered. He didn't want to see where they kept her.

"Hold up, I need a little more information than that Jace." Artemis grabbed Jason's arm. He grunted gesturing for Artemis to continue, "Were they successful in making a meta human?"

"Yes, she developed a regeneration ability." Jason started towards another room in the hallway. The layout matched what the two guards had told them. Even if the two didn't know what happened in the last three rooms they knew something important in happened in them. They had taken Jason's sister into two of them. The first door not far from her cell and the last door at the end of the hall. The other door next to locker room only the scientists had entered.

"How did she get out of here?" Roy followed close behind. It was a valid question to ask given the security this place had. Jason had counted 25 cameras and they had to get through three security doors to get here.

Jason shook his head, "She stole a bunch of scalpels, gouged a guy's eye out and stole his keys. Right before she killed a completely different guy while running like hell."

"Fuck, she is your sister." Roy breathed. Jason reached over and smacked him across the back of the head. Roy grabbed where he was hit, "Oww dude. What the fuck that was a compliment. You got a badass sis."

"She's the innocent one in this family." Jason sighed as he opened the door to the room they most often brought her to. It looked like a sterile operation room with a water pool in the left corner. There was a musty scent in the room from the still water. Various tools were throw about from knives, to whips, to guns. "She's not supposed to be fighting or going through stuff like this."

"Have there been anytime attempts to recapture her? Traffickers hardly like to let their 'product' go." Artemis words were phrased carefully. Jason blinked before moving towards the next room urgently.

Green was blurring his vision again. This wasn't good, "No. And it's been six days since she escaped."

"They don't wait that long, even for the 'problematic' ones. Something ain't adding up here." Roy joined Jason in the next room.

The room next to the locker room was the most torched. Scorched remains of papers covered the floor with a flipped over filing cabinet. There was also some sparking medical equipment and a computer. The two walked further in. Roy picked up a piece of half burned papers. He blinked as he read it before reading it again out loud, "Subject Origin's recovery rate appears to be two hours for a bullet chest wound after the removal of all shrapnel. All vital organs show signs of being fully healed and operational. Despite lossing brain activity for an hour and fourty five minutes, Subject Origin shows no signs of inversible damage. This is a good sign for Project Raphael. What is Project Raphael?"

"I don't know." Jason picked up another piece of charged paper. Roy moved closer to see the paper. "The operational for Project Raphael was a success, despite Doctor H and Doctor Q's walking out. Subject Origin is showing signs of recovery. New Subjects Alpha through Hotel are being prepared for transplant. Monitoring period of six months set to begin in secondary locations."

"That might explain why they haven't come for her." Roy pulled back rubbing the back of his neck.

Jason gave him a look, "Huh?"

"Yeah, thinking about like these guys. If whatever they're doing has already moved on to different subjects than having the Origin isn't necessary until you need more subjects. So why not just let her go until they know whether the first 'batch' is successful?" Roy shrugged hapzardly.

"Cause that would a massive security threat." Jason gestured to them simply being in the room. "She's already tipped off every vigilante in the area."

"That’s probably why they trashed the place." Roy kicked some of the paper causing it fly up. "There's probably not much to find here."

Jason growled. Roy had a point, they could nothing if they didn't know what they were even looking for. He pulled out his phone and took a picture of the paper. "Just grab what you can. We might be able to find something important."

Roy sighed but began to pick up other pieces of paper that seem legible. Jason quickly sent the picture to Tim with a brief note to be ready. Roy held up a paper with only Subject Origin written on it, "Hey all of these refer to them doing some fuck up shit to Subject Origin."

"Just focus on grabbing the things, we'll worry about what they say later. I'll focus on recovering the computers hard drive." Jason was focused on taking deep breaths. If those paper were truly talking about (Name) that meant she had endured worst things than they were originally think. Barely injured his ass, they were shooting her just see how she would recover. Lossing brain activity meant she was medically dead for a whole hour. Green was starting to over take his vision. Doctors H and Q had some explaining to do when he found them.

The computer wouldn't turn on. Jason decided to just take the hard drive. It would be easier to recover information at the batcave anyways. Even if that meant go back to the manor. All he needed was a name or a picture. Something to point him in the right direction.

"Hey Jace, I think we got something." Artemis was calling from the hallway. He grabbed the hard drive before going to check out what they were talking about. Artemis held up a burned student ID for Gotham U's Medical school. "Bizarro found this in a locker. Can't read the Name or see the picture but we got the last 3 digits of a student number."

"Good, it will help us narrow the list down." Jason nodded looking around the place. Roy had been right. There really wasn't much to see that wasn't destroyed. Jason was willing to bet they wouldn't find any real names on the computers hard drive. That was assuming it wasn't wipe.

"I have found this in the sleeping quarters." Kori came out of the room holding a scalpel with dried blood and some decaying matter. Jason half laughed, she actually did gouge out a man's eye to escape. He wasn't sure if he was impressed or horrified. On one hand his sister could defend herself. On the other hand she should never had to do that in first place. Whatever Project Raphael was it had pushed her to a limit Jason never wanted her near again.

Jason got yanked out of his thoughts by his phone buzzing. Unlocking it he saw a text from Tim. "Drop off everything you got from that place at the Batcave. Also be at the library at 2pm, (Name) will be wrapping up there at that time. Pick her up."

Jason looked at the time 11am, they had three hours. "Let’s move."

Prev

Taglist:

@stove-top96 @00hellohello00 @mysticalhills @yhin-gg @twismare @charlenexoxo1 @a-lurking-fae @moondust-clouds @darkumbreon92 @jsprien213 @bellethesleepypotato @time-shardz @randomlyappearingartist @kittzu @bat1212 @vanilliona @welpthisisboring @plsfckmedxddy @tulnukaz @eyeless-kun @daisy56789 @dandelion-delusion @damianwayneisthebestrobin @crazycaoticsimp @sirenetheblogger @1nternetc4t

Sorry if missed anyone or misspelled your tag. Just DM and I will get it sorted out.

[hyunjuenthusiast]

BITTERSWEET (PART 2)

Summary: Y/n has always been sweet to everyone, no matter their background or their appearance. So what happens when Y/n is sweet to the wrong person?

Pairing: Yandere!Hyun-ju x Femreader!

Warnings: Yandere tendencies, stalking, obsession, angst, captivity, kidnapping.

PREVIOUSLY

"Y-You're fucking crazy." Y/n whispers. Hyun-ju's lip quivers. "P-Please don't say that." Y/n's eyes widen as Hyun-ju picked up a bag...the same bag she would bring to the bakery. Hyun-ju opens it, and it's filled to the brim with money. "I was awarded 45.6 billion won. But I had to watch everyone die." Hyun-ju says sadly. "But not you. I'll never let anything hurt you, sweet girl. This time will be different." She says as she gets up and scoops some pasta onto a plate.

NOW

Y/n sat on the bed, the bed that wasn't hers. Hyun-ju had brought her to a secluded cabin after they had dinner. Y/n had, of course, tried to reason with Hyun-ju, call for help, even, but it was pointless. The woman was blinded with whatever obsession she had with Y/n. And Hyun-ju was strong.

As soon as Y/n had tried running away, Hyun-ju had stopped her, breaking her promise of not drugging her again. Apologizing, putting her in the car and taking her to this damn cabin.

Hyun-ju had thought of everything. If Y/n got bored, there are movies, games, books, puzzles, art supplies, and even a tablet, which she learned quickly that she couldn't call the police on.

There's clothes that Hyun-ju knows Y/n will like in the closet, all in the right sizes. All of Y/n's favorite snacks are in the kitchen. The walls are decorated like Y/n's Pinterest boards. If it weren't for the circumstances, Y/n would have been grateful... though the chain around her ankle didn't help with that.

She is snapped out of her thoughts when she hears the front door close...Hyun-ju had returned.

As nice as Hyun-ju is...she still scared Y/n. No matter how sweet she seemed, Y/n knew that Hyun-ju was capable of bad things, why else would she justify kidnapping?!

There's a soft knock on the door. "Y/n? May I come in?" Hyun-ju asks. Y/n scoffs. Why bother to ask when she has a key to every room in this damn cabin? "If you must" Y/n responds.

Hyun-ju walks in, shutting the door carefully behind her. She gives Y/n a small smile, one that Y/n does not return.

"I picked up some lunch while I was out." She tells Y/n, seemingly trying to cheer her captive up. "I'm not hungry." Y/n whispers, Hyun-ju frowns.

"Oh" She says softly, her expression falling. "A-Are you sure? You didn't have any breakfast either... I-I thought getting takeout would help."

Y/n hugs her knees to her chest, making the chain rattle. Hyun-ju sits on the edge of the bed, sitting the bag of food on the nightstand. She fiddles with her hands. "I know this must be hard for you, sweet girl." She says softly, turning her head to look at Y/n.

"But I promise, you don't have to be afraid. Not of me." She says, giving Y/n a pleading look. Hyun-ju reaches over, gently putting some of Y/n's hair behind her ear. "I would never hurt you, Y/n."

Y/n turns her head away from Hyun-ju's touch. "You need help." Y/n says, making Hyun-ju looks down.

"You just need time, sweetness. That's all. I know this is all overwhelming for you, and I know you need time to adjust." Hyun-ju says as she gets up, making Y/n tense.

She leans down, kissing Y/n's head gently. "I'm going to do some laundry for a while, baby. You can eat whenever you're ready and if you need me just shout, I'll hear you, okay?" She says softly. Y/n says nothing, waiting for her to leave.

Hyun-ju takes the hint and shuts the door softly behind her on her way out.

For the first time since Hyun-ju has brought her here, Y/n allows herself to let go. She sobs as she realizes just how crazy her former friend is. How was she supposed to get back home?

She sits there, crying, for what feels like forever. The bag of her favorite fast food sits forgotten on the nightstand.

Hyun-ju sits in the laundry room, folding a pair of Y/n's jeans as she hears her crying upstairs. Tears spring in Hyun-ju's eyes. Her poor baby, she's been through so much. Hyun-ju closes her eyes, vowing to herself that she would give Y/n the best life she could. Y/n would want for nothing. She would have everything she needed here, with her.

As it gets darker outside, Y/n hears footsteps coming up the steps. She tenses as Hyun-ju knocks on the door. "Sweetness? I got all of your laundry caught up...can I come in?" Y/n says nothing, and Hyun-ju takes that as a sign to enter.

Y/n watches as Hyun-ju carries the basket of clean clothes to the closet, starting to hang up the clothes. Hyun-ju has a soft look in her eyes as she looks over to Y/n, and then her eyes shift to the nightstand where she sees the food that has gone untouched.

"You must be hungry, baby. I can cook whatever you'd like?" Hyun-ju asks as she puts a shirt of Y/n's on a hanger. When Y/n doesn't say anything, Hyun-ju eyes soften even more.

"Anything you want, I can make. If you're in the mood for spicy, salty, savory, healthy... anything. I'll make it." Hyun-ju says, getting no response yet again. "Or we can skip straight to dessert, I have everything that I need to make strawberry brownies!" Y/n looks at Hyun-ju, slightly intrigued.

Hyun-ju gives her a soft smile. "Strawberry brownies, it is then!"

Y/n cringes as Hyun-ju walks over to the dresser with the basket, putting away all of her socks, bras, and underwear. "H-Hyun-ju?" Y/n asks, fiddling with her hands. Hyun-ju looks over, her gaze always soft. "I-I can do my laundry next time..." She says, making Hyun-ju smile.

"I really don't mind, Y/n. I like doing things for you. You shouldn't have to do any work, sweet girl." Hyun-ju explains. "But if you're bored, I can bring you down with me next time?" Y/n head pops up. "You mean like...taking the chain off?" Y/n asks, making Hyun-ju look down guiltily.

"Yeah, baby." Hyun-ju says, sitting the basket down and walking over to the bed, sitting on the edge. She gently reaches towards Y/n's ankle where the chain is connected. Hyun-ju hated the thought of Y/n being in pain. That's why the cuff was padded. "I'm so sorry, Y/n. Is it hurting you?" She asks, looking back to Y/n.

"N-No." Y/n says in truth. "I just really want it off... it's not very comfortable." She says, trying to hopefully get Hyun-ju to remove it.

Hyun-ju frowns, and her hand gently cradles Y/n's ankle. "I'm sorry, sweetness, I can take it off, but I have to know that you won't try anything that might get you hurt. You can't leave, baby. I know you want to, but I need to know that you won't try." She says softly.

Y/n perks up. "I won't! I promise!" She says with excitement. Hyun-ju looks at her with a small smile. "Okay, sweet girl, I believe you, and I'm trusting your word." She says, reaching in her sweater pocket for the key.

She gently holds Y/n's ankle as she unlocks the cuff. Y/n breathes a sigh of relief when it comes off. Hyun-ju looks down at Y/n's ankle, gently massaging it just in case it's sore. "Does it hurt?" She asks, making Y/n shake her head in response.

"Do you want to come downstairs with me while I make the brownies?" Hyun-ju asks. Y/n nods quickly, happy to get out of this room that she's been in for a week straight.

Once downstairs, Y/n looks around a bit. When they had first arrived here, she didn't really get a chance to see that much of anything in her drugged state before Hyun-ju had chained her up.

The kitchen is nice...fancy but not too big. Reminding Y/n that Hyun-ju had money. Y/n goes to sit at the table but yelps when Hyun-ju gently hoists her up onto the counter.

Hyun-ju giggles as she sees the look of terror on Y/n's face. "I'm sorry baby, but the table is too far away, I want you close." She says, leaning over and kissing Y/n on the cheek.

Y/n shifts uncomfortably, watching as Hyun-ju gets out everything to make the strawberry brownies. She's skeptical when she sees a box of strawberry cake mix. Hyun-ju smiles. "They're good, I promise." She says, walking back over to where Y/n was sat on the counter. She puts her hands gently on the sides of Y/n's hips. "Only the best for you..." Hyun-ju whispers to Y/n, making her tense.

Once the brownies are done, Hyun-ju makes Y/n's plate. They sit down at the table, enjoying the sweet treat.

"Do you like them? I can tweak the recipe a bit if you'd like? Or I can make them homade, I'm sure they would taste better?" Hyun-ju asks as Y/n finishes her second brownie.

"There're good. Thank you." Y/n says, fiddling with her hands nervously. As whatever her captor was talking about goes on, Y/n looks around once more.

When Hyun-ju isn't paying attention, Y/n keeps glancing at the knife set that'son the counter. If she was fast enough, she could make a run for it and defend herself if need be, and get the hell out of here.

"Y/n?" She's quickly snapped out of her thoughts. "W-what? Sorry." Hyun-ju gently grabs her hand, caressing it with her thumb. "I asked if there was anything you wanted to do tonight." Hyun-ju says.

"Oh, umm I don't know, whatever you want to do I guess." She says, taking her hand out of Hyun-ju's.

Hyun-ju gives her a sad look. "No no baby, I want you to choose. We can do whatever you want, a movie, a game, a puzzle, anything!" She says, trying to get Y/n to engage.

"....Do you have uno?" Y/n asks, Hyun-ju smiles. "I sure do. Let me get the deck, I'll be right back, okay?" She says to Y/n softly. Y/n nods.

Hyun-ju kisses Y/n's forehead before heading to the living room to get the deck. Y/n had never moved quicker in her life. She grabbed one of the knives before sitting back down at the table.

She quickly puts it under her thigh as Hyun-ju comes back with the deck of uno cards.

Y/n shakily reaches for the deck, preparing to shuffle the cards when Hyun-ju gently stops her. "Let me do that, sweetness." She says softly, taking the card from Y/nand shuffling them herself.

Y/n could practically hear her own heartbeat. She had never used a knife to hurt someone before, but this was the only way she could think of to escape. Maybe it wouldn't come to that, maybe a bluff would be enough.

"Y/n?" She's snapped out of her thoughts yet again. She looks to Hyun-ju, who had already felt the cards it seemed. The woman gives her a reassuring smile. "You can go first." Hyun-ju says.

Y/n picks up her deck, trying to seem as nonchalant as possible, even though she can feel the handle of the knife under her. She lays down a green 4.

The game lasts a while. When Y/n puts down a color that Hyun-ju doesn't have, she's confused when Hyun-ju only picks up two cards. "What are you doing? You have to draw until you get the color or the number that matches." She explains. "Don't tell me you play the stupid way!"

Hyun-ju chuckles. "The stupid way? That's just how I was taught, baby. Though I'm sure you know better than I do, I'll draw until I get the color." She says to Y/n with a small smile, glad that she was finally somewhat relaxed.

Y/n knows Hyun-ju let her win.

"Is there anything else you wanted to do? I can make you something else to eat if you're still hungry or we can watch a movie?" Hyun-ju asks. Y/n looks up at her, nervous.

"I-Im tired, I think I'll just go to bed." She says, reaching down to feel the knifes handle. "Okay, sweet girl, whatever you want." Hyun-ju says as she watches Y/n stand up, noticing one for her hands was behind her back.

She knew Y/n had the knife. Her experience in the army had always had her guard up high. But she couldn't blame her. She knew Y/n was scared, terrified even. But she hated the thought that Y/n thought she had to defend herself. Hyun-ju would NEVER hurt Y/n. Ever.

"I'll walk you back up to your room once you put the knife back, Y/n." She says softly.

All the color from Y/n's face drains. "W-what?" She whispers, maybe she heard that wrong. "I'm not mad, sweet girl. I could never ve mad at you, I just don't want you to hurt yourself, so please." Hyun-ju says as she holds out her hand, wanting Y/n to give her the knife.

Y/n quickly takes a step back, already so close to the wall, and holds the knife up in front of her. "D-Dont come near me." She says, her hand shaking.

Hyun-ju frowns. "Y/n, please, put that down. You know I would never hurt you." She says. Y/n scoffs scaredly. "You're only saying that." Y/n says, her eyes slightly wide. Hyun-ju shakes her head softly in response. "I love you, Y/n. I would never do anything to hurt you. You know that. So please, put that down."

Y/n looks to the hallway, wondering if she could just make a run for it. "I'll catch you." Hyun-ju says, which makes Y/n turn to face her. "If you run, I'll catch you." She says, knowing what Y/n was thinking.

Y/n tenses. "I know that scares you, sweetness. But you know I'll always catch you. I know it might not seem like it right now, but I only want what's best for you. Nothing can hurt you here. Not with me." She says, taking a step forward.

Y/n grips the knife. "Please just let me go," She says, tearing up. Hyun-ju softens. "I can't do that, baby." She says.

As Y/n starts to cry, Hyun-ju quickly darts her hand out, successfully getting the knife out of Y/n's hand.

Y/n quickly struggles as Hyun-ju holds her, squirming to get away from the love sick woman.

Hyun-ju says sweet nothings as she gently tries to drag Y/n back to her room without being to rough.

Hyun-ju makes the mistake of putting her hand to close to Y/n's face, giving her the perfect opportunity to bite.

She winces and retreats as she feels Y/n's teeth through her skin.

Y/n makes a dash to the front door, screaming as she hears Hyun-ju coming from behind her. After she unlocks the last lock, she bolts out, hearing Hyun-ju shouting behind her, pleading for her to listen, to come back.

Y/n can barely see with how dark it is, but she runs as fast as she can. It didn't look like there was anything but woods, so she quickly darted into some.

She could still hear Hyun-ju, but she didn't give a fuck, she was going home.

Y/n ran for a good while, stopping every few minutes to breathe, but she finally, finally makes it to a road. She can't hear Hyun-ju anymore, but she knows that the woman is still looking for her.

Y/n holds her hands up as she sees headlights. She didn't even notice that they were driving on the wrong side of the road.

"PLEASE STOP! HELP ME!" Y/n screams, waving her arms wildly. She forces the car to stop when she runs in front of it.

The middle-aged man stops his car, giving Y/n a concerned look, rolling down his window. He tries asking what the problem was... Only Y/n couldn't understand what he was saying. He wasn't speaking Korean or English.

She runs over to the passenger side, getting in, crying. "Please please I need the police! I've been kidnapped!" She says sobbing. The man only says something in a language she can't understand and starts driving. "Thank you thank you" Y/n cries.

It looks like the man pulls into a police station, she quickly gets out, thanking the man again, before racing inside.

Everyone gives her strange looks. She tries asking the person at the front desk to help her, explaining that she had been taken by Hyun-ju, but they can't understand her, not even in Korean.

The lady puts up a finger, signaling for Y/n to wait. She goes away and comes back with another woman, a different police officer. "I'm sorry ma'am, how may I help you?" The officer says, her accent heavy.

"Yes, yes, I need help! I've been kidnapped, I don't know where I am, please! Help me! I-I live on South Street of Soul!" Y/n explains. The officer's eyes widen.

"Ma'am that can't be." She says, causing Y/n to falter. "W-What?" She says to the officer.

The officer looks at her, a little pale. "Ma'am.... you're in Thailand."

THE LONG AWAITED PART 2!!!!! I rewrote this so many times ✋🏻😭 I hope you guys like it 🙏🏻🙏🏻

[salemlunaa]

I know you do not want to see another post of the void state pact creator but I was wondering what you thought about this: https://www.tumblr.com/liekjevenderheurn/773411229929799680/we-dont-shift-to-another-reality-after-entering?source=share . I always believed we shifted realities after some creators told me that, but now I am questioning everything.

Also, what do you think about this; https://www.tumblr.com/lunityviruss/773409054293950464/why-are-bitches-in-the-void-state-community-so?source=share I do not know if you could see it because I do not know if they blocked you. But I wanted to share it so you could have the chance to defend yourself.

i think i saw this already but think of it this way

imagine if i induced pure consciousness and said “EVERY ONE IN THE LOA/VOID TUMBLR COMMUNITY WILL NEVER GET THEIR DESIRES”

will that actually happen, go and ask them that because they don’t have an answer

if i induced and said “EVERYONE IN THIS COMMUNITY WILL DIE”

will you all just drop dead? no because my experience has nothing to do with where other people’s awareness lies. And this reason is the same reason why the “if shifting was real how come we haven’t seen anyone with powers?” argument doesn’t work because someone shifting to an alternate reality where magic is real has nothing to do with where our awareness lies

because if our reality relied on others that would be pretty shitty right? the amount of trolls that would induce just to bring war, monsters the whole works?

They call me and my fellow bloggers too harsh but what has been said is what needed to be said.

Don’t let this affect your belief in shifting, do you think someone who thinks that the way the universe and “I AM” works is based on “their own opinions” actually has anything meaningful to say when it comes to getting actual information on the void state and shifting? Infinite realities DO exist and we are shifting, even with “typical manifestation”

try and find solace in the fact that these people do not understand this properly and are just cherrypicking things that they want to happen. They’ll be here in the next 5 years asking for people to induce for them.

[shanklin]

In a world where the belief of humans can create gods and deities, Stan dies from an infection soon after losing Ford.

It’s just a minor setback! Or so Ghost!Stan tells himself as he tries desperately to figure out how to touch stuff again. It doesn’t help that Ford warded most of his things against ghosts.

One day while practicing to become corporeal Stan comes across a couple of weird creatures [a gorilla wearing underwear? Unicorn made out of corn? A horse riding another horse? What?] ranting about Bigfoot and how stuck up she’s gotten ever since she ascended to godhood just because some crazy fanatics turned the hunt for her into a cult.

Meanwhile smaller szories and folktales like them are trying their hardest to survive. But peoples belief is fading and soon they will be forgotten and cease to exist.

This changes everything! Stan knows a great business opportunity when he sees it!

It’s almost too easy to abuse the system.

Religion has always been a scam in Stan's opinion. So he might as well turn himself into a god.

Good thing Ford did all the hard work for him by becoming the mysterious science man in the woods. All Stan has to do is to make himself visible long to create Mr. Mystery.

The belief of the townsfolk grants Stan enough strength to become corporeal and soon enough Stan opens his temple [tourist trap] for business. 

People pilgrimage to his holy ground, pay tithings [entrance fees] listen to his sermons [tours] and leave offerings [cash] in exchange for blessings [cheap souvenirs Stan tells them will bring them luck]. They even take little statues of him back home and convert others to believe in him as well. [It's a fun tourist trap why wouldn't you believe the owner exists].

Eventually he even gets his own priests [employees] to help him out.

In exchange for favours Stan also promotes the almost forgotten and fading folktales he meets. They quickly become his most loyal followers. Stan may have scammed his way into godhood at record speed but he still cares for the little guys. He’s saving their lives and they could not be more grateful. 

The other gods however HATE him but cant do anything about it because he's not technically breaking any rules.

With every new believer Stan grows stronger and changes.

His lies turn into reality. His souvenirs become actual blessed artifacts protecting the owners and Stan becomes one with Gravity Falls. Its true protective deity. Time has no meaning and throws up a barrier protecting his home. The same one Ford has already studied in the past.

And when the zodiac fails and Stan tells Bill that that doesn’t matter because Bill will die here, Gravity Falls rumbles with excitement.

Stan spins a story about the deity protecting this land and how they will not allow Bill to break the barrier or harm them any further.

All Stan needs for everyone to do is to close their eyes and pray.

“Stan, we don't have time for your ridiculous lies!”

“Just once in your life do as I say and believe in me, Sixer!”

The people of Gravity Falls have surprising faith in their local conman and so do the kids. With no other options left Ford closes his eyes and says a short prayer.

When he opens his eyes again the world is engulfed in blue flames and before him stands the young form of his brother surrounded by the real life versions of fake tourist attractions.

Stan puts on his holy knuckle dusters and grins. 

[ramen8008]

A small reunion where Grover hugs Frank and Hazel saying, "thanks for taking care of him". Because he knows the anxiety they went thru with this kid putting his life on the line

After Tartarus is even more common for Percy to use his empathy link with Grover so instead of nightmares he gets to talk to Grover

Annabeth wonders what are the chances she could link with Grover as well. Percy talks to her about everything Grover said

Grover is vegan and Piper is vegetarian. Annabeth and Percy are used to vegan food so they'd randomly make suggestions to Piper and Leo, "Grover loves this sauce and it's 100% vegan"

Everyone else "Percy we can do that we will all die. This plan doesn't work it's too dangerous" and Percy is just like "Grover would have gone through with it 💔😔" while Annabeth's only reply is "he would have dragged your ass afterwards for it too"

"I miss Groverrrrrr"

STORIES!?! They could have literally just shared some stories "You know that reminds me of when we almost died this one time with Grover"

The others would learn the Grover had been Percy's best friend before he even knew he was a demigod

"Exploding that would be so much easier if Grover was here" the others "???" Annabeth "yeah his piping skills would have been so useful" the others "??!?!"

I feel like the understanding that could have been if Grover was actually there. The way he would talk to Jason would make Jason feel like he's not alone. He would tell others stories of the other campers and make everyone feel more seen, Frank, Hazel, Jason, Leo, Piper, Hades NICO as well . He knows how messed up some demigods' lives are. He'd be a rock for so many.

as an insufferable celestial trio stan, here are all the ways grover could have been incorporated in heroes of olympus (because oh boy, i have THOUGHT about it):

a small dialogue right after the stables scene where percy and annabeth are red in the face that 'grover wouldn't have grounded us' 'i miss grover'

anytime percy has some internal conflict monologue thing? boom! just add in a dream conversation with grover where he talks about it! let grover ask why he feels a panic attack coming from percy after tartarus! let percy try to justify it and fail miserably! let grover feel horrible for not being there in person!

a reunion. i assumed that it was basic common sense to include a reunion but i guess rick just decided to forget grover at the end of blood of olympus. but yeah. crying, hugging, cheering!! we deserve it!!

"piper walked into annabeth's room. it was simply decorated, with a plant garden on the windowsill that annabeth said helped connect her to one of her friends back home, which piper didn't understand" see my vision??

for example if some monster shows up let percy and annabeth storm out of a room like "EXCUSE ME WE WERE BUSY IM-ING GROVER WHAT'S GOING ON??"

[fancyfeathers]

Always Prey But Never A Bird

Based on the Yandere Batfam w/ Wife/Mother!Darling & Daughter/Sister!Darling series

Previous Chapter <- Chapter Ten -> Next Chapter

Taglist: @jsprien213 @toast-on-dandelioms @plsfckmedxddy @lilyalone @sydneyyyya @yandere-wishes @cxcilla @nemesis-writer @sadslasher13

“Hey bugaboo, you need to eat something.” You heard Tim speak as your door opened and he stepped inside, walking over to your bed and he sat down on the edge of your bed, reaching out to rest his left hand in between your shoulder blades on your back. “Alfred made breakfast if you want to come downstairs or I can bring something up here.”

“I’m fine.” You responded, not moving a single muscle as his hand reached up to pull away the hair off of your face as you lay down, letting it slip from his hand and falling down your back.

“You’re not fine, you haven’t moved since you got here.” He sighed, his hand slipping away and tucking itself into his hoodie pocket. “You have not eaten or showered, it has been eighteen hours, you have-“

“I can’t… I’m tired Tim.” You sighed and reached for your phone on the nightstand, it somewhat surprised you that Dick left that behind but it was understandable why, to leave you cut off from everything right now would be like leaving alone to die, you were unstable and they all knew that. You turned on your phone and you could see the wall of notifications, unread messages from your friends and Gabriel along with at least twenty missed calls from Gabriel. You groaned and dropped your phone down on your bed and buried your head into the sheets. You glanced at your older brother, half your face still buried in the bedding, and it took you a moment to make yourself talk because you just felt tired and far too exhausted. “…I’m sorry about… you know…”

“Throwing me at a mirror? I figured…” He sighed and you felt the weight on your bed shift and the blanket over you is pulled over Tim as well and you felt his arms wrap around your waist and he pressed his head into the crook of your neck as you felt his hands rest on you bare stomach as your shirt had ridden up a little, his hands were cold to the touch which would have made you jolt if you already did not feel so incredibly numb. “I can take it, besides you were scared and it was not your fault, you’re safe now.”

“Safe in Gotham? You’re joking right?” You huffed, closing your eyes, hoping to fall back asleep and that he would just let it be, but when have they ever just left you alone? You felt Tim’s breath on your neck as he moved his head so that his forehead was pressed against the top of the back of your neck.

“C’mon downstairs, you need to eat something.” At his words you groaned and took your blanket from where it lay over him as you turned over on your stomach and threw the blanket over you and tucking the edges of the blanket underneath you. You could practically feel the eye roll from Tim, even if you could not see it, as he stood up from your bed and walked over to your bedroom door. “Okay, be that way, but I can’t promise you’ll like the outcome.”

You heard his footsteps trail off, though the asshole of your so called brother never closed your bedroom door, leaving it wide open to the hallway. You enjoyed the peace and quiet for the few minutes you had it and you silently prayed that they would forget about you and get distracted in conversation about their current or upcoming cases and or missions, but again, they never forget about you or leave you alone. You could hear and feel the heavy footsteps against your bedroom floor as another person walked a few minutes after Tim had left and you almost instantly knew who it was, Jason. You could have moved, but you felt too tired to and you certainly did not expect what he ended up doing in grabbing you in the blanket before you could react and throwing you and the blankets over his shoulder like a makeshift bag with you inside.

“Jason, this isn’t funny!” You shouted at your older brother as he carried you out of the room in the blanket like a sack of potatoes, you had the faintest memory of him doing this same thing to you as a child, maybe you were eight or nine years old, not to long after your mother and father got back together again, though that statement could be taken with a grain of salt, but you could not get a clear image of said memory in your mind. You were a lot smaller as a child, especially at that age, maybe a foot and a half shorter than where you stand now along with being about a hundred pounds lighter than you were now, not counting the twenty to twenty five pounds of muscle you have gained over the last four years of your life as a vigilante, but yet he still carried and treated you the exact same way over all these years. “Put me down!”

“Not happening.” You could feel the vibrations of Jason’s voice through the blanket and then when he took a step down the stairs you certainly felt it, the blanket bag bouncing as he walked down the stairs, your shoulder and side colliding against his toned back between the blanket which made you squeak in surprise. You could hear the voices coming from the dining room down the hall, or at least the family dining room, not the one that is used for parties and galas which only got louder as you got closer and then suddenly you were tossed over Jason’s shoulder and into a dining chair at a weird angle, the blanket draping over the chair beneath you.

“Master Jason, please refrain from carrying the young lady like a bag of produce.” You looked up to see Alfred across the table, he was setting plates of prepared food down for you all to take from, he looked up at you and smiled at you, and gave you a small bow with his head. “Good morning, Miss.” 

“Mornin’ Alfred.” You mumbled, slouching in your chair and you looked around the table. It seemed like everyone was over but people were still waking up and coming downstairs one by one. Jason took a seat down next to you, Cassandra was sitting on the other side of you, and then across the table, you could see Tim sitting down and sipping a cup of coffee and scrolling on your phone, his eyes flicking up at you for a moment, acting like he was not the one who snitched to Jason to get him to drag you out of bed. You glanced around the table and spotted there was a spot set for everyone set at the table, even a spot without a chair for when Barbara comes by to join you all for breakfast next to where Tim sat, Dick was probably picking her up. Then just like clockwork you could hear the front door open and the energetic voice of Dick from down the hall. Just as Barbara and Dick entered the dining room, Alfred set a cup down in front of you, it was hot chocolate since your father did not like you consuming caffeine but when you brought it up to your lips to take a sip you could smell the scent of espresso beans, it seems like Alfred was more in touch with the person you were than your own family, even with something as small as dietary preferences. “Thank you, Alfred.”

“Hey, sweet pea.” You heard Barbara speak as she rolled by you, she leaned over and pressed a kiss to your forehead, and gave your shoulder a small squeeze. “How are you holding up?”

“I…I’m fine.” You replied as she rolled past, going around the table to take her spot next to Tim. You had a strange relationship with the police commissioner’s daughter, she was dating Dick for years but she treated you like her own sister, well a sister in the way your siblings treated you, which certainly was not normal. They all were overprotective and their relationship with you was not exactly healthy, but honestly, some of them were just clingy, and uncomfortable so, like Dick and Stephanie, especially Stephanie, then of course speak of the devil and they shall appear. After you replied to Barbara, the familiar blonde young woman stepped into the room along with Duke. Stephanie’s eyes immediately lit up and she practically skipped over to you and swung her arms over the back of your chair, giving you a hug and practically pinning you to the back of your chair. “M-morning, Steph.”

“Good morning, sleepy head.” She practically squeezed you harder from behind, practically knocking the air out of your lungs. Then luckily she finally let go, walking past Cassandra to sit down next to her. Then Duke walked past you, patting your head, brushing your hair with his fingers, his hand slipping away and slightly messing up your hair even more as he walked past Jason to sit down next to him. Something about Duke felt like he was not pretending that nothing was wrong, he knew what happened yesterday, you were traumatized as far as he knew, he was well aware of what was going on in your head right now, and everyone else was probably just walking on ice as to not set anything off in you and make you cry, you doubted that Bruce or Damian would force a smile, they probably would dive into investigating those photos after breakfast if they had not already, but they would never tell you. Cassandra was just quiet as always as she sat next to you, but that definitely did not cover up the fact that she was bothered, she knew that something was horribly wrong. 

“Master Bruce has a board meeting with investors for a new project, he will be back this afternoon,” Alfred spoke as he set cups down in front of Stephaine, Barbara, Duke, and Dick. Then just as Alfred spoke, Damian stepped into the room, his right hand resting against the upper back of the other person stepping into the room, your mother, it seemed that he woke your mother up after Bruce left this morning. “Good morning Master Damian, Mrs. Wayne.”

“Hello Alfred…” Your mother responded, only half awake as she walked over to her seat at the table but her voice trailed off as her eyes landed on you, sitting next to Cassandra and Jason. She sighed and pulled out her chair next to the head of the table, where your father would usually sit. “It seems your father was not joking when he told me you were back.”

“Ya…. Hi Mom.” You could only imagine the overwhelming feeling of guilt your mother held in her heart right now because over the years she was the only one who supported and encouraged your relationship with your now ex-fiance, though you have not told him that you were breaking up with yet, maybe it would just be best to ghost him, you doubted after seeing those photos, the reality of who he was, that he was the type of person to take rejection well, especially rejection from you, someone he had not forgotten about in years, someone he waited for years, never losing hope that you were still out there somewhere. You watched as everyone began to help themselves to the spread of food laid out in front of you all as your mother sat down and Alfred left the room to presumably clean up the kitchen. You almost completely lost your appetite at the thought of having to eat in front of them, it felt off to you, it felt fine with your friends, and you all felt comfortable with one another, there was no tension around one another or discomfort or even fear. You reached out and only grabbed two pieces of the warm toast, knowing they would not be exactly happy if you did not eat anything at all.

“Aren’t you going to get something else?” Stephanie piped up as she glanced over at your plate with barely anything on it, and of course, her words made everyone turn their heads towards you, except your mother who could not even make herself look at you. So now you were caught like a deer in headlights in front of all your so-called siblings. She did not even wait for a response from you, Stephanie just reached across the table to grab a bowl of roasted and seasoned potatoes and then reached across where Cassandra sat to put some on your plate, well some make it sound like it was a little, no the amount she put on your plate took up a quarter of the plate. “Hey Dick, pass the eggs please-” “I’m fine… I’m not really hungry.” You spoke up and you could see Barbara stiffen up from across the table, her hold on her own fork was so tight that her fingertips were starting to turn pink. “I just don’t have much of an appetite right now-”

“Were you fine when my dad and Detective Montoya kept food for the vigilante, Songbird, on them in case they ran into her, or rather you? You were starving weren’t you?” You immediately stiffened up at Barbara’s words, your blood ran ice cold as the dining room fell completely silent. Before you had Mr. Austen as your sponsor you had next to nothing, when you and your friends were runaways none of you could really get a job without probably being found and getting sent back home, especially you, you could not do anything outside of the mask, not if you did not want to get caught. Commissioner Gordon was no fool, especially with a small teenager who caught and stopped an organ trafficking ring before the GCPD even learned of it, he knew you were some street kid, well that was what you were when you ran away, and he knew he would be seeing more of you so him tossing you snacks after catching gangs and murderers were nothing to be surprised about, it was only surprising to him when you told him that he did not need to do that anymore when you got Mr. Austen as a sponsor, but Commissioner Gordon still did and over time Detective Montoya did it as well when you and Clove began working with her more often as well. “Judging by your expression it’s true, isn’t it?” “Barbara that is enough.” Your mother scolded the red-haired woman for her overprotective behavior, finally speaking up in the silent room. Your eyes looked over at your mother as she picked at her own food, clearly having lost much of her own appetite as well. “She is not starving now, she is just not hungry right now, a sentiment I share at the moment.”

“...May I be excused, Mom?” You hesitated to ask in front of all your siblings after what had just been said out loud. You looked up at her and finally, she looked at you and nodded yes and you could just see the pure pain and anguish in her eyes. So you stood up from the table and grabbed the blanket Jason had carried you down just a few minutes ago and walked towards to dining room door and before you stepped out you glanced at your mother.  “Thank you.”

______________________

Not having to worry about running out of hot water is such a nice thing, back at the warehouse you all would take timed showers so you would not run out of running water in the middle of a wash, honestly, you could not remember the last time you had taken an actual bath, it had to be before you ran away four years ago. Your body just sank into the hot water after you turned off the facet and you slipped inside, it was slightly too hot but you could not bring yourself to care at the feeling of the hot water slightly tingling and burning your skin. The smell of strawberry scent soap filled your nose as you popped open the lid of the body wash and poured a generous amount of cleaning product onto your hand before you set the open bottle aside on the edge of the tub and began washing away any grime or sweat your body had acquired over the last day and a half.

But of course, there was a reason you gave up all these nice things, and the door to your bathroom just proved your point as Damian stepped inside. Your hands immediately went to cover yourself and your body sunk farther into the bath, trying to use the white bubbles on the surface of the hot water to cover up your naked body. 

“Have you ever heard of knocking?!” You shouted at your older brother, honestly, it felt strange now, you could remember him as a boy when you were little or the teenage boy when you were in high school together but now he was a fully grown man just like how you were a fully grown woman. “You have your own bathroom in your own room!”

“Stop overreacting, I want to talk.” He rolled his eyes at your words, your overreaction was how he would phrase it.

“Okay, we can talk when I’m wearing clothes and am not naked.” 

“You act like I have not seen you without clothes before.”

“That’s not a normal thing to say you know?”

“Your clothes… they cover your scars.” There was an audible ‘oh’ that escaped your lips after Damian’s words he spoke as he came to sit on the edge of your bathtub near the faucet so he was able to look at you. “I saw them when Father was dressing your wounds a couple of weeks ago after you fell off the bridge, where are they from?”

“The same place where you all got your own.” 

“No, I mean where you specifically got them.” You watched and surprisingly let Damian reach out to touch you, more specifically a scar near your collarbone from a blade. “Like this one, where is it from?”

“A rusted pipe I landed on when I got thrown by Clayface.”

“Two years ago, correct.” His words made you pause, looking at him with a look of confusion. “I have been keeping track or the stories about you and your… friends.”

“You just did not know it was me.”

“Correct.” He paused and looked away at the moment before looking back at you from where you sat in the bathtub. “Your fight with Firefly and Killer Moth a few months ago… you stopped appearing for a few weeks after that, how bad were those injuries?”

“I…I don’t like talking about that… my friend, Clove, got really hurt during that fight, a lot worse than me.” You shifted uncomfortably, you got burned pretty badly by Firefly on your back during that fight, but Clove, she only recently fully recovered from that fight before you met Talia a few weeks ago. Clove’s whole lower body was burned to some extent along with her left arm. 

“Let me see.”

“What?! No!” You snapped back, anger brewing inside of you for your brother’s disrespect for your trauma of what happened. You heard him sigh and he reached out to grab you by under the arms and slightly pulling you out of your water and looking over your body as you were divided between fighting against him or covering your body. Then his right hand grabbed your hands and forced them in front of your body and his left hand grabbed your waist and turned you around and a sigh escaped your lips as his eyes fell on the large burn scar on your back. His left hand trailed down your spine, past your other scars, a stab wound from from some thugs who tried to unmask you, a scar from a gash from a fall you took when you caught a girl who was trying to commit sucide and you saved her life that night, her name was Elizabeth and she was someone you still kept in touch with, checking up on her on your patrols, you became her hero and she loved you so much that her mother made a homemade plushie of you in your Sogbird suit. Damian’s hand rested flat against the damaged tissue on your back and you felt your brother hesitate for a moment before finally letting you go and you immediately pushed yourself back into the tub of hot water. Damian said nothing else, but there was a look in his eye that you could not quite place as he stood up from where he sat on the edge of the tub and made his way to the door. “Hey… Damian…”

“Yes?” “I need to go somewhere today as Songbird because I didn’t… I haven’t gone the last few nights.” You paused an sighed, you were lying to him but it was a half lie, you were going to do what you told him, but not just that since there was another stop you had to make. “There is a girl who lives down by city hall-”

“There girl who you saved from killing herself, correct?”

That’s right, he kept up with the news.

“Ya, I try to visit her on my patrols and I haven’t these last few nights and I am just worried about her-” “It… it’s fine, but don’t take long, do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, thank you.”

You sighed as you leaned back in the tub and while you felt slightly bad for lying to your elder brother, you did not feel bad enough to say sorry or even feel remorse. You needed to speak to someone and get a little bit of advice that you could not ask someone for as the youngest Wayne because that would catch the attention of the press and you could not just ask anyone as Songbird since attention would be drawn as well as why Songbird, a vigilante, was asking for legal advice, so who better to go to than the former district attorney who was currently locked up in Arkham Asylum for his personality disorder, for lack of a better term.

You have a visit to make to Mr. Harvey Dent since no one will look twice at Songbird paying a visit to Arkham Asylum.

[k0nanharv3y]

Alfred who came down after hearing so much noise: What's going on here, Mr. Bruce, Mr. Tim?

And Tim's face turned to Alfred like a rubber band. Bruce's face took a little longer, but he also looked at the old man in pain, seeking comfort or advice from his father

Alfred looked between Tim's heartbroken face and Bruce's wounded face: I don't know what's going on here, but I would advise you both to change and take your conversation upstairs

And Tim only saw red

Tim: This is- I'm so done!, I'm so fucking done, with you!

He pointed aggressively at Bruce

Tim: You!

Damian, who had stood on the sidelines and now seemed personally offended

Tim: And you! And everyone else in this fucking family!

Finally he pointed at Alfred even more aggressively

Alfred, shocked by the open display of hatred towards him, he felt his heart heavy: Mr. Tim- I-

For the first time in perhaps ever, Alfred hesitated

Damian: Hey! You have nothing to yell at Pennyworth for!

He defended

Tim: Shut up Damian, this isn't about you!

He silenced him and turned to both adults now

Tim: It's about you, and what you did to me

Both adults looked at each other and remained silent

Tim: You, you were an abuser and I didn't deserve that, any of this, I've always tried to please you, to live up to what you wanted! And you?! You left him, Alfred, and I wish I didn't hate you like Dick and Jason do, but all I see when I come into this house is an abuser and the person who let him! Don't play dumb, Alfred, you- You're just as bad as Bruce! And even if Bruce was the problem, you never made me feel welcome! Never-! I had to walk home a hundred times with bruised ribs, ribs that you bandaged up and then pretended didn't exist!

His throat was now raw and his voice had become cracked and squeaky. And both adults, when they saw Tim, didn't see the 17-year-old running a multi-million dollar company, they just saw the 12-year-old excited to be Robin and looking for any kind of validation they could give him

And this was what they gave him, a house where he didn't feel safe or welcome, a family he avoided like fire avoids water, thousands of reasons not to return and they robbed him of any kind of childhood he could've had

And the two adults remained silent, unable to deny or say anything, because they had nothing to say. Tim had said enough for them

Tim: You say you loved all the children in this mansion, but guess what, Alfred, I was once a child myself, and the only thing I ever got from here, never came from you. When I came here to become Robin, I thought... I thought I might get something like Jason and Dick got, too, but it seems the only thing I'll get from you is an inscription on my grave. What will you put this time, Alfred? "A good soldier," "A good son"?

Silence was his response

Tim: Fuck you all

He pulled off his cape and threw it on the ground

Tim: Fuck you all. I'm tired of this, tired of-! Of everyone wanting something from me! I quit

He ripped off his tool belt and threw it at Bruce

Tim: I quit your stupid last name, I quit your stupid company, I quit being Red Robin, I quit everything

When he had nothing left to tear off, he kicked things off the floor

Tim: I'm done! And if you ever- And if you ever care even a little, don't look for me! I don't want anything to do with this family, all of you-!

He looked at the people in the cave and seemed about to cry

Tim: I hope you-! Fuck you all, I never deserved this! Fuck you, I hope you all fuck off and-!

His voice broke and his crying intensified

Tim: I hope you die

His voice trailed off as he tried to wipe away the tears that kept running down his cheeks

Tim: I hope you suffer at least a fraction of what you did to me and...! And... And why can't I hate you...? Why can't I hate you...?

His voice sounded so tired

Tim: All I ever wanted was to be... to be enough, for you to love me... and I want to hate you but- but you're my father, and they're my brothers and... and I'm so tired, I want to go home, I want to feel safe and I want to hate you! Why can't hate you?!

He collapsed on the ground, like all his other things, like a pathetic spectacle of a pathetic child. He felt miserable in the eyes of the people who hurt him, he felt vulnerable and naked and... and he didn't care anymore, the weight he had been carrying for so long finally lifted from his shoulders and he felt satisfaction at the heartbroken look on Bruce's face and the pain on Alfred's face, and Tim simply didn't care about being on the ground anymore

He didn't care about anything anymore, just like he didn't matter

///

Part 1 Jumpscare!!!

That awkward conversation I had!!

///

And no one gets any comfort because god knows I don't know how to write about comfort, Tim deserved that breakdown and Bruce and Alfred deserved to have someone point out to their faces that they were, in fact, abusive and ruined a child's life

I would do this with Dick, Jason, Damian and Barb too, but I haven't read many comics about them, fanfics? sure, but I don't know how much of it is canon and what their real personalities are

Bruce ruined his children's futures, but canonically he also saved them. Dick was saved from becoming GraySon, Jason was rescued from the streets, Damian was saved from the League of Assassins, and Barb... Barb made choices

But Dick was also condemned to the superhero life and all the harm that entails, Jason was condemned to die, Damian went from an abusive mother to a neglectful father, and Barb... well, she's now permanently in a wheelchair

There's just too much to unpack there!!!! And my psychology books are begging to be opened again, but Tim is my favorite and that means everything I think of will be about or referring to him

[tomriddlehyperfixataion]

Through time and space; you're Mine.

Summary; Alt end to 'The girl who shattered time!' instead of staying, (y/n) goes back to her time, only everything is different. Way different.

warnings; Tom Riddle(way more on point in this version), obsessive Tom, possessive Tom, referenced murder and implied murder, horcruxes used to make 'kids' so Tom can have 'you.'

i like how this came out, its not long! hardly even 2,500 words! but it feels good so i left it where it was~ the requester of the girl who shattered time did request an alt end but their idea was different and i wasnt, really into it? so i did this instead because this feels...more like Tom. enjoy!

=

“Please stay,” he said, achingly, pleadingly, his jaw clenching horribly as he stepped towards her-she stepped back-he stopped.

“What?” she asked, and she watched as the sound of her voice made his eyes flutter and he took a deep breath, holding the diary with both hands.

“Stay. Please.” He said again, begging. “Don’t go back to your time-don’t go back to…that war. Don’t go where I can’t follow.” He whispered, looking up at her.

“How can you ask that?” she whispered, clenching her jaw, fists tight at her sides. “You saw it all, you know why I can't stay, you know why I’ve been avoiding you-why I want to go back.”

Tom’s eyes were hard yet sad-anger, not at her, filling his face.

“I won't stay with someone who becomes…him.” (y/n) said, not even daring to say the name and Tom nearly flinches, his eyes going back down to his diary, trembling.

“If you go back. I’ll find you.” he says, voice low and dark with promise, looking up at her-his gaze intense. “I'll find you, no matter what-I’ll track you down.” He steps closer and (y/n) backs away, gasping as he grabs her wrist and pulls her close- the diary falling to the floor, his eyes locked onto hers.

“I’ll make you mine again, I don’t care what I have to do, who I have to get through-I will find you, and we will be together again.” (y/n) shakes her head,  panic filling her whole body, she does not want to be with Voldemort, she didn’t want him-she didn’t want this.

She slaps him with her free hand and his head snaps to the side-his eyes going wide, before turning back on her as she runs back towards the dorms. “You can’t escape me (y/n)!” he roars, knowing he couldn’t chase her into the girls dorms, the barrier keeping him away from her. “I will find you! you will be mine again! Dark lord or not-I will have you!”

He loved her. And he would never let her go.

-

She rushes out of the Slytherin common room before sunrise, panting heavily as she books it down the hall towards Dumbledore’s office, tears in her eyes as she rapidly knocks on the door and he opens it. “ah-I have yet to leave for the ministry Ms-are you okay?” Dumbledore's voice turns to concern as (y/n)’s shoulders jump with a sob and she slumps into him as the weight of everything crashes into her.

Tom’s ‘promise’, the threat of the war, returning to a world where she’d be hunted down-it’s all too much.

But still-she wants to go home. She wants to see her friends again, and if need by-die next to them.

Dumbledore hugs her and after the sun rises, he goes to the ministry through the floo network, (y/n) curled up on the seat in front of his desk until he and a ministry worker returned-holding the time turner that would send her back. “Okay, you traveled back in the defense class room right?” the ministry worker asked, following Dumbledore to the DADA classroom.

(y/n) nods, quietly standing beside Dumbledore as he unlocked the DADA classroom and the three entered, the ministry worker handing her the time turner. “All right, here you go, just finish the loop and it’ll send you to your time, and then to send it back to us-just take it off and leave it in a safe spot and the time turners fail safe will send it back to us. Understood?”

(y/n) nodded again, putting on the time turner and lifting the two ends in her fingers, twisting it to complete the loops and she felt her stomach turn as she was sent forward in time-May 2nd, 1998. She landed in the DADA classroom-it was untouched by the chaos that sent her here in the first place so she quickly took the time turner off and put it in a safe spot-near the book cases, far away from where she’d gone back the first time.

She looks at the desk that she’d knocked over that held the original time turner, sneaking over and opening all the drawers-eventually finding the time turner that had sent her back. She looks up as she hears someone approach the door and quickly hides. Except…there's no blast of magic or chaos of battle.

Instead, there’s hushed whispers, and light laughter. “Go go-“ a voice whispers, one that is vaguely familiar. (y/n) peeks around her hiding spot, seeing herself sneaking into the DADA classroom, a group of girls-her friends from this era, including Luna, oh goodness it’s so good to see her-all watching her sneak in. (y/n)’s brows furrow, why was this so different? It should’ve been the same, right?

She’d expected to return to the battle of Hogwarts but…there seemed to be no battle…What changed?

She looked back at her past…alternate self and she tripped in the darkness, knocking open the desk drawer and it slid out completely-making a loud noise and then things began to whirl around-past/alt (y/n) gasping and then she was gone-the broken time turner sending her to the past.

…HUH?!

(y/n) stared in shock-this was not how it happened at all! She’d been chased and blasted into the room by snatchers! Not dared to sneak around and then accidently knocked the desk over!? What happened?! What changed so much! Her friends all rushed into the room-whispering out her name in worry and (y/n) winced, coming out of her hiding space.

“uh-something went wrong.” She said and the girls all screamed and jumped-eyes wide as they looked at her.

After a long moment, and some panic-(y/n) was able to explain, sorta. She explained that she’d been sent back in time by a broken time turner and she’d just gotten back from the 1940s, only to see how she got sent back in time but-differently.

It was a bit confusing to explain but her friends, especially Luna, took it in stride and soon (y/n) was back in her dorm, lying her ravenclaw bed-finally her bed.

Things had changed in this world.

After some digging from her friends-who took her questioning in stride since the timeline (y/n) knew was now gone.

There was no Boy who lived. That was a shock to see her friends be confused when asked about Harry Potter-to them, Harry was just a regular boy, no lightning scar, no dead parents-captain of the quidditch team and all.

“what-what about-death eaters?” (y/n) asked and her friends looked terribly confused.

“What In the world was happening in your timeline?” her friend Ruby asked and (y/n) slumped back onto her bed, eyes wide.

No death eaters. No boy who lived.

…no…Voldemort? She sat up, asking if they heard that name before-their reaction this time was different.

“oh yeah-Minister Voldemort? He’s been minister for magic for nearly 30 years now,” Irene said and (y/n) nearly fell out of her bed.

Minister for Magic Voldemort-not dark lord. What in the actual fuck?!

“I need to sleep.” (y/n) croaked and her friends agreed, Luna giving her a hug and a necklace to keep the wackspurts away. “Thanks Luna, I missed you.” (y/n) said softly, hugging her friend back and Luna hummed, floating back over to her bed, brushing through her wavy hair.

(y/n) laid back in her bed, struggling to sleep.

What had changed? Tom had said he’d find her-and yet it seemed this world was so much better. Voldemort now minister for magic-but she’d have to find out if this was a good thing or not in the morning.

She needed sleep.

-

She heads right for the library in the morning, clad in her Ravenclaw uniform once more and her bracelet from Julia feeling strangely heavy on her wrists. She pours over recent history textbooks, finding newspapers from the last 50 years in search of finding what changed.

1943-a girl dies in the Hogwarts bathroom; rumored to be killed by the Chamber of secrets monster, a student is expelled-blamed for the girls death, an accident. Prefect Tom Riddle is praised for his heroism in finding the culprit.

(y/n) swallows harshly, looking at the picture of Tom, he looks angry, beneath the proud look on his face that seems forced. Anger that simmers beneath the surface, heartbreak.

She looks through more newspapers.

1945-world war 2 ends, Grindelwald is defeated by Dumbledore.

1950- a woman named Hepzibah Smith is poisoned by her elf

1954- Tom Riddle-youngest to run for ministry for Magic, supported by the rich and famous pureblood families-such as the Malfoy’s, Black’s, Lestrange’s, Flint’s, and Rosier’s.

1955- Youngest Minister for Magic; Tom Riddle.

1960- Minister Tom Riddle; while no interest in marriage, reveals newborn son, named after him. Tom Riddle Jr.

1961-Tom Riddle once again elected for Minister of Magic.

1970-Youngest Minister for Magic changes name to Voldemort, support from purebloods is great for Voldemort ‘abandoning’ his Muggle birth name.

1968- Voldemort is elected as Minister once again.

And so on and so forth.

(y/n) rips through newspapers like a wild animal-searching for anything that can tell her why things changed so much. Had Tom really given up on the whole ‘dark lord’ thing? Instead going for a more diplomatic way of taking power? Becoming the minister for magic?

She pulls up another newspaper. 1982- Minister for Magic proudly announces his Grandson, Tom Riddle the third. She looks at the picture, it’s Voldemort, uncomfortably human looking-a silver fox if one to describe him, though he has a slight…oddness to him-standing beside him was his ‘son’ Tom Riddle Jr; who was in his early 20’s, hardly even 21 actually-holding a newborn boy.

All three looked exactly the same-like they weren’t truly born, but copies.

(y/n) looks at the date again. 1982. January.

Something nags at the back of her head-telling her something was wrong.

She looks through the papers again. Her heart freezes.

1982-Headmaster Dumbledore passes away, Deputy Headmaster McGonagall to take his place. Cause of death unknown, found dead in office on the morning of June 15th-only days before the school year ended.

That was the exact day Dumbledore died in the original time line-except more than 10 years earlier. Voldemort had been the one to order his death before-he must’ve waited until Dumbledore's guard was down to kill him-this time also having a new vendetta against him-for sending her back.

She leaned back on her heels, newspapers everywhere around her, the one about Dumbledore's death tight in her hands.

Voldemort was minister for magic-he’d had two copies, one son and one grandson, the grandson her age.

She didn’t know how, but this was all a way to get to her-to find her and have her. He knew she’d never accept her as Voldemort, but if he had copies-younger versions of himself, one the exact same as she left him-then she’d have no choice.

“You seem antsy,” A chillingly familiar voice came from just next to her and she glanced-yelping at the sight of Tom’s face in hers; almost the exact same as she left it not a day before-but for him? Almost 50 years ago. “Woah, jumpy much darling?”

Tom teased, picking up newspapers with a flick of his wand-this one dark brown in color, snakes and (fav flowers) carved into the wood.

“Wha-how-you-“ (y/n) panted, back pressed against the table edge of a bookcase as Tom stalked towards her, his eyes almost…red under the dim lighting.

“Oh, my love-did you really think I wouldn’t find you?” Tom said softly, almost eerie-he traps her against the table, arms on either side of you. “You’ve read it all, haven’t you? Seen what we’ve done for you?”

Tom whispers, forehead against hers, his eyes intense and terrifying as he slowly grips her face in his hand-it’s cold. “You feared the dark lord, feared to return to war and death-I stopped it all. Can't you see? You don’t have to be afraid anymore. Not of me.”

“How are you here?” She asks-voice cracking from the swell of emotions she feels and Tom smiles-its unsettling- pressing a kiss to the corner of her lips, his arm wrapping around her to keep her close.

“Oh, my dear, Horcruxes can be used for so much more than immortality.  I was the first.” He pulled out the diary from his uniform inner pocket, pressing it to her upper chest, his eyes still intense on her. “I made this, so when I found you again-I had all my memories of you. Voldemort, or as everyone thinks him to be-my grandfather, birthed me from a simple-allowed me to be born with you.”

He kissed her cheek, soft but it felt wrong and (y/n) pushed at him, but he didn’t budge. “Don’t you see my love?” he whispered against her ear, the diary achingly cold against her neck as he pushes it up against her throat. “I did this for you. I split my soul for you-to be with you. You don’t have to fear me, or Voldemort-we did it all for you.”

“You’re insane.” (y/n) spits at him and he coldly smiles, thumb brushing over her lip-pulling at it slightly.

“I’m a man in love, insanity is only the tip of it.” he whispered, eyes on her lips, flickering between deep brown and red. Snake-like. “we did it for you-there is no war, there is no boy who lived-I kept peace, for you.” he said, his lips connecting with hers in a cold kiss, his hand leaving the diary to cup her head, not letting her pull away.

Her eyes snapped closed-tears burning-her hands fisting into the fabric of his uniform sleeves.

She hates that it still feels so good to kiss him. He pulls away, feeling her tears on his face and he wipes them gently with his thumb, kissing them away. “Don’t be afraid my love-there's nothing more to fear. There is no dark lord, only me.” Tom murmurs and (y/n) sniffled, allowing him to brush her bangs back-both her eyes now on him. His thumb runs over his scar-which was growing fainter as time went on.

“He never touched you.” Tom whispers, her brows furrow-unsure of what he meant and Tom smiles-still intense. “Your uncle, he never touched you-i-or well ‘my father’, killed him before he could even think about touching you.”

(y/n)’s breath stutters in her chest as Tom holds her close-now in a hug, his head tucked against hers. “no one will hurt you again. Including me.” He whispers, clutching tight to her robes and she gasps for breath, unsure of how to handle-anything that was going on.

“I’ll never let you go.” He whispers, a finality to it.

She knows that he’d make sure to keep that promise, whether she wanted it or not.

-end of alt end-