#and wants so much to not make the wrong move that it can paralyze her

[tonguetiedraven]

any thoughts on shiemi? I really love her, especially the way she wants to move the moments in which she was vulnerable. (I do feel like her character suffers a bit from being the love interest and that might just be my preferences but) I love how she's a very kind person without it being unrealistic (her reaction to rin immediately post amaimon)

I have so many thoughts on Shiemi, and each new chapter is just giving me more.

I adore her, and I adore the arc Kato has given her. I love how shy and uncertain she starts out and how much she just doesn't understand friendships and the complexities with which people navigate those sort of relationships. I like her naivety about the world and how that allows her courage and kindness to shine through.

I love that we get small hints that she was traumatized when she was little through some kind of difficult and likely violent trauma (chapter 130-131) and that it gives us a good reason for why she's so sheltered and for why she's so timid about being around others.

I love that her first act of friendship is giving someone a clover and a nickname, and that when she makes her second friend she apologizes to him for misjudging him by immediately putting him to work in her garden because she loves it best and it's a way to show she's open to him and she doesn't realize or get that most people don't enjoy that kind of thing. (Manure hands? What's the problem with that? I wiped it off. xD)

It hurts my heart how much she gets bullied by Izumo and how much she doesn't call her out for her cruelty, but Shiemi wouldn't be her if she did. She's a gardener and used to dealing with thorns and prickly plants and stubborn plants and is patient. She can and will take hits to make something flourish, even if she really shouldn't.

I think she's absolutely the best team player in the group, and the strongest ally that none of them even have to wonder for a second if she'll be there. She's usually one of the first, if not the first, to step up in a problem and begin by defending, and she never flaunts or acts like it was something to be boastful of. She is wicked powerful and goes through most of the manga not even really realizing it. She's a defender and a healer and not necessarily the offense, and those roles are often overlooked but none of them would be alive without her vital aid.

I can understand where you might think she suffers for being the love interest, but I don't particularly see it that way. Sure, Rin sees her (at least at first) primarily as someone to date and make out with, but she has a lot more depth with Rin than that, and Kato having her be slow to realize her own heart and affections has allowed her to lean on him as a friend first and develop into something else. She's always there and willing to call him away from the violent parts of himself and self loathing and despair that can consume him. She's willing to reach out a hand to anyone who needs her and pull them back up even if it gets her hurt in the process.

She's clumsy, and often a bit too emotional for her situations, but she's honest about who she is and that encourages the others to do the same. There wasn't anyone else, even Paku, that Izumo would have felt quite so safe to break down in front of. There wasn't anyone else that could have reached for Rin and embraced him and his flames and made him realize there were hands reaching out for him. There's no one else Yukio could have gone to so many times for comfort and guidance.

I love that when she knows she's going to have to leave them all for a while, she gives each of her friends a charm that later saves their lives, because that's who she is. Even when she can't be by their sides, she's defending them and healing and helping.

And god, her relationship with Amaimon? So complicated and dangerous and layered with multitudes of power dynamics, most of which aren't healthy, and half buried secrets and things we've barely glimpsed, and the way he's introduce leads to violence against her, and then he captures her, and we see later on that she could watch all of that attack happening while she was under his influence. I can't imagine being forced to just watch while my friends are hurt and I'm used against my friend, stuck seated on his arm without the ability to move at all.

Agh.

And then there's the current stuff we're getting into with who she really is and why he's at the school and so tied to her, and gosh the layers to it are delicious. Kato has done so much with and for her and it's so often overlooked.

She suffers some with the animes -- everyone does, of course -- but I think hers is from a lack of the quieter moment and the thoughts she has. She's a well rounded and complex character, and being kind and soft doesn't negate either of those things. She's also immensely strong, physically, of course, but also emotionally and mentally. She's often the first one to call Rin out on his tendency to go it alone and push people away, and will listen when people need her too which a lot of people can't do.

Her struggle in the Kyoto arc I also feel deeply. I get the pain of thinking you were close to summon and thinking they relied on you and then finding out it was all wrong, and having it confirmed twice? Once when Rin denies they're friends at all and then to have all of that revealed and it turn out you didn't know either of the two people you'd consider your closest friends? To just want to help and to be so stuck in your own head and so certain you're not strong or smart enough to do that?

I love her and her weedy spirit and can't wait to see what all she's going to do.

[psychotic-nonsense]

It's happening again.

With Max, it's attempting new tricks on her skateboard. With Dustin, he takes apart and reassembles basic little trinkets. With Nancy, she rewrites old news articles. With Mike, he reorganizes the D&D dice box he's been carrying everywhere since Will left (and even after he came back). With the Sinclairs, it's spinning something - a basketball or pen or keychain or hair tie.

The loud music isn't uncommon, nor where it's coming from. But where the source is, and what kind of music it is, feels like something reserved for times like this.

Steve wasn't supposed to be out here, technically. He's on his lunch break, and he wanted a change of pace from the Family Video parking lot. He drove out to the edge of town - Keith doesn't give much of a damn how long their breaks are anymore - to find that cliff only he really knows how to get to. Helps that his Beemer is like a second heartbeat.

But on his way out, he hears the music.

How the hell Eddie got his van out this far into the woods, Steve's never gonna figure out. But there's loud ass music coming from it that's different to Eddie's usual type. More replicable, mainly, something that sounds like an actual song yet still has Eddie's whole screamy vibe. As Steve gets closer - having parked by the road just outside the woods - he can hear another voice singing along with their full chest.

That's when he realized what it is.

It's that violent restlessness. The buzzing feeling in, under, becoming every inch of your skin. Paralyzes you from doing anything substantial, yet everything else you try to do doesn't make the feeling fade. So you're stuck in a repetitive motion while stuck in place and it feels like exploding from the inside with nothing bursting out.

Most of The Party gets it bad nowadays, since the Upside Down was sealed away. Years of living on the brink of death to suddenly being plopped back into the mundane. Steve especially got it from the lack of sports, which worsened the Upside Down buzz.

Steve knocks on the van's back door, hoping it drowns out the music to not startle his friend too badly. He tries the door, which opens easily, and floods the woods with guitars and drums and voices.

Eddie doesn't startle, but neither does he move. He's laying down on the floor of the back, the precautionary blankets there all twisted up and scattered about in evidence of motion. One hand is tugging hard at the roots of his hair, the other snapping hard along with the music. One leg is bent up and bouncing, and his chest heaves in an attempt to keep up with Eddie's shout-along singing.

"Yeah, you said a single word,

But no one really heard,

Sometimes we scream alone!

It's always worse at night,

When darkness kills the light,

You're in the danger zone!"

It irks Steve in just the wrong way, seeing Eddie frozen like this. Gets him to leave the door open, walk around to the stereo sitting in the passenger seat, and hit the thing silent.

"What?" Eddie snaps immediately. The van rocks as he sits up.

Steve ignores him, just walking back around to the back to smack the side of the van. Noise will keep Eddie stable in this state. Eddie, who's staring at Steve with that adrenaline-fueled glare, jaw tense, sharp where he doesn't mean to be. Steve makes his words stern, to cut through the buzz no doubt rushing through Eddie's ears. "Up. I'm getting you out of here."

"'M fine," Eddie bites back, flopping straight back down with a bang he doesn't feel. One of his hands goes back to his hair.

Steve just reaches down to grab the end of one of those blankets, tugging hard. Eddie just moves an inch, but he flails like the bat tails are back around his ankle. He sits back up, eyeing Steve with a malice he can't mean. It's Eddie and he never does, not even when he's high on fight or flight.

Steve just nods to the outside world, repeating, "I mean it. Come on."

Eddie's jaw tenses just a bit more, before he rolls his eyes and scoots to hop out. Steve backs up, lets Eddie jump out of the van with too much motion, slam the doors shut and pat them in a goodbye both too hard, lets Eddie grip his leather jacket too tightly as he leads the two of them back to the Beemer. The snapping comes back a few minutes in, but Steve leaves it be.

Doesn't pick on Eddie not wiping his shoes, nor for slamming these doors shut or not buckling. The police has had more to worry about them than some unsafe driving. Steve just turns the radio up a bit too loud, leaves the snapping alone, and drives them along the edge of town.

He stops when they get to the junkyard. Doesn't say anything, just gets out and goes straight to the trunk. He hears Eddie follow him outside as Steve gets the not-nailed bat from the back, then slamming the trunk shut to keep Eddie's attention (no matter how much it and the slam prior hurt his soul).

Steve walks past Eddie into the heart of the junkyard. He spins the bat, scanning the ground, and finding an old can-looking thing. He picks it up, tossing it into the air a few times.

Then he tosses it once more, rears back, and hits the shit out of it.

The loud crinkling of metal and crack of wood creates an echo that slices through the residual buzz forming in Steve. He watches it fly haphazardly in the air, spinning randomly before landing on an old car, another echo to cut the buzz.

Eddie doesn't react verbally, but that's fine. Steve just finds something else - a piece of tire - and hits it too. Does the same to a crumpled sheet of metal, then another can-shaped thing. Feels the buzz get torn to pieces with every satisfying echo and vibration of conflicting action coursing through his veins on each hit.

When Steve finally turns to see Eddie's reaction, it's just the snapping fingers to really get his attention. Everything else about Eddie's body language says confused, curious, hungry.

His body still screams, and here it sees something that will listen.

So Steve holds the bat out by the barrel, handle to Eddie, and waves it at the junkyard around them. "Go ahead," he urges.

Eddie eyes it confused for a moment, but he eventually pushes off the side of the Beemer he was leaning against. Makes it to Steve with steps that still feel too hard, but takes the bat. Stares at it, spins it once to get the feel, but still hesitant.

Steve walks past him to retake that place on the Beemer. Eddie watches him go, still confused.

As Steve settles in, he motions again to the open empty junkyard. "Who's going to hear you?" he says.

'Only who you want to hear you,' goes unsaid.

Eddie blinks at Steve a few times more, then down at the bat. Spins it again, looks around. He spots something, stomps over to it, picks it up. A can. Tosses it up once, nearly doesn't catch it.

He looks around again, goes to a car beside him. Sits the can on the hood, steps back. Gets into a stance that feels at once natural and amateur, but Steve doesn't dare.

Because Eddie hits the can and it goes flying, with a crunch that gets Eddie to laugh a little.

Now he's really moving, looking around for something more. More metal, plastic, rubber, anything he can feasibly hit and some things he can't. It gets heavier, harder, doesn't go as far but that means the impact is in rather than out. Cuts through the buzz like nothing.

Soon Eddie takes off his leather jacket and really gets going. He's looking for glass and throwing it far and hard, feeling every shatter in his own insides. Grabs the bat again, starts hitting the vehicles, smashing the windows in further. Drops the bat again, finding unbreakable things and throwing them on the ground, on cars, against other smaller things. Looks like he's going ballistic but it's just the energy finally finding freedom and release in something.

Steve watches it all with prideful satisfaction.

Eddie digs through a pile of rubble, grabbing something evidently interesting. It's stuck, it's difficult, but that manic energy is nothing but insistent. Eddie eventually pulls it out, a rusted old metal chair far heavier than it seems. But Eddie just laughs at the challenge.

He picks up one end, and starts fucking spinning. One heel barely keeping him balanced, he spins and spins and spins. The chair gets lighter, his arms rise with the momentum. And finally, with a growl as cathartic as the destruction, Eddie throws the chair into a car, watching it shatter the glass and dent the metal in a loud bash of sound and noise and release.

This, it seems, is what finally curbs the buzzing. Eddie slumps over with the action, panting and laughing a little. He stumbles to the side, barely losing his footing in time to catch the side of that infamous bus and flop to the dirt beside it. He's panting and breathless and red in the face, but ultimately... satisfied.

Steve resigns himself to the bucket beside Eddie. Leans back against the rusted metal that saved his kids' lives, handing Eddie a water bottle from the storage in his trunk. Eddie takes it with an especially rough huff. Steve takes it as the thank you he knows it is.

Eddie gulps down a quarter of the bottle, spills another quarter on himself on accident. He leans his head back to stare at the sky, panting in relief.

"How... the hell did you know...?" he eventually gets out, still not looking at Steve.

Steve just stares at the patch of grass in the center of their little courtyard, forever greener from the cutlets that rotted there. Shrugs. "Just a hunch."

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2/4/25 Edit: Adding in some lyrics from "Breathless" by Dio (1984) thanks to the lovely suggestion by @finalmoondragon !!!!! Everything is the exact same as the original post the only difference is the lyrics :]

[elihermit]

Evan Buckley x female reader

His girlfriend gets into a car crash and he has to try and save her, he goes to the hospital with her and waits by her bedside for her to wake up. She ends up being paralysed from the waist down and when she wakes up and finds out she struggles to cope with it, she has physical therapy to try to regain her strength but she gets upset so buck tries to comfort her and helps her through it, when they get out of hospital he knows this is their new normal and he is positive and tries to support her. Please include lots of angst and fluff 🥹🫶 thank you xx

eternal sunshine

pairing: Evan “Buck” Buckley x fem!reader

summary: After a serious car crash, your lower body is paralyzed. You find it very hard to cope with, but Buck is not going to give up on you. Can you accept it?

word count: 2,4k

author’s note: thanks to an anon for this request, that’s a very special fic indeed, I hope you like it!

p.s. requests are open🫧

“(Y/N), I need you to stay awake. Please try for me, darling.” — you can hear Hen's voice, but it sounds like an echo. It's hard for you to stay conscious, you're gathering all your strength not to fall asleep, even though it sounds very tempting.

“Hen, I don’t feel my legs.” — panic rises in your throat, you feel sick. “Where’s Buck?”

Buck didn't have a shift today, but you were glad that familiar faces came to your rescue. You could trust them and not be afraid if something went wrong.

“We already called him, (Y/N), he’s on his way.” — at the same time, they took you out of that damn car and put you on a stretcher. You still couldn't feel your legs, but honestly, you couldn't feel your whole body. You were so afraid that fear paralyzed you. It’s probably normal.

You were carried to the ambulance, you felt that a couple more minutes and you would pass out. But you need to at least wait for Buck, he'll be so worried if he finds you unconscious.

“(Y/N)!” — you heard Buck's worried voice and felt his touch on your arm. He made it.

“Hey baby, I’m oka-“ — you couldn't finish the sentence, fatigue and fear took over and you blacked out.

You open your eyes already in the hospital. The bright light blinds your eyes and makes your head hurt even more. You didn't know how long you were lying like that, but your body was very numb.

“Hi, my love, welcome back.” — you hear Buck’s voice and turn your head in his direction. He's smiling at you, but his red and puffy eyes said he was crying.

You smile back at him and take his hand. You're just glad that it's finally over and you can recover. You close your eyes for a couple of seconds and exhale. You got out of this alive.

You open your eyes and the smile leaves your lips. You try to move your legs, but nothing works, you don't feel the whole lower part of your body. Panic engulfs your lungs and you start breathing faster.

“Buck, I can’t move my legs.” — your voice breaks and tears fill your eyes. You knew it was a bad sign when you were still at the scene of the accident.

“Shh, baby, you’re fine, breathe with me.” — Buck looks at you with a smile and tries to calm you down.

“I don’t need to breathe, tell me what’s going on.”

He looks at you and goes silent. He had hundreds of scenarios in his head about how he would tell you about it, but seeing how scared and confused you are, he just can't pronounce these words. He doesn't want to disappoint you.

But you didn't need to hear any words, everything was written on his face and it hurt more than any physical pain. A cry came out of your mouth. A terrible cry that turned into a scream. All the pain and all the resentment against yourself for getting in the car that damn day was reflected in this crying. Your whole body was shaking from how much you were crying. You were screaming. Buck pulled you into his arms and just held you. He's never seen you so lost and devastated, but he kept saying you weren't alone.

“Buck, what am I going to do? What are we going to do?” — you were able to tell between sobs.

You felt like you were suffocating and it was all becoming hysterical. Nothing will be the same as before. You'll be a burden, you won't be able to give Buck what you could have given him if you hadn't been paralyzed. Your life will be limited.

“We’re gonna fight, baby. And we will go through this as we have gone through all the difficulties before, okay?” — you shook your head in disagreement and turned away from him.

You can't look into Buck's eyes. You cannot accept that you will change not only your life, but also his. You would like to say that you are ready to fight, but you are not. You weren't ready for this and you don't know when you'll be ready.

“Hey. Hey, look at me.” — he spoke softly and gently turned your head so that you could look at him. “Our best solution is physical therapy. You have every chance to gain your strength and get back on your feet. I've already talked to the doctors, just trust me.”

“But it can take years. I don't want you to waste your years like this.” — it's true, you'd rather let him go than drag him along, you'll be completely dependent on him.

“My years will be wasted if you're not by my side. Not for one second did I think to leave you in this. This is our fight.” — Buck reaches for your lips and leaves the most tender kiss. There is so much care and love in this kiss that you have no choice but to believe him.

4 months later

Your life consists of a hospital and constant physical therapy sessions. You're tired and exhausted, but you've never been the type to give up quickly.

When you felt that you were going off the path and starting to move in the opposite direction, Buck was there to take your hand and put you back on the right path. He was always smiling, supportive, and proud of your little victories more than you are. For you, these were not victories, but reminders that there is still a lot of work ahead.

Today was another physical therapy session and you finally convinced Buck that you'd be fine without him. He did not miss a single session and because of this he could take fewer shifts at work. You knew that he loves his job and that's literally what energizes him better than any coffee, so today you sent him to work.

But Maddie was with you today, Buck couldn't leave you all alone, even though the doctors at the hospital became your family.

Everything was going well, you did the usual exercises, your therapist gave you a massage of the lower extremities between exercises, then you switched to special simulators.

“Look how good you’re doing, your progress is wonderful.” — you heard Maddie behind your back and froze.

It triggered something inside you. All 4 months you tried to be strong, not to show how desperate you are on dark evenings. You didn't want to be pitied, you wanted to be treated without much distinction.

But everyone behaved around you as if you needed to be coddled. They think they're helping you, but it just reminds you of your condition every time.

And you don't see any fucking progress. What are you doing that is so amazing? You don't run, you don't dance, you don't even walk, you just take little clumsy steps. How dare they call it progress.

“Okay, that’s all for today.” — you still had 20 minutes of the session left, but you didn't feel like finishing it.

“Why? Are you in any pain?” — your therapist asked with a concerned look and stood in front of you.

“No, I just don’t want to do it anymore, so don’t push me.” — you said it and clenched your jaw. You could feel anger filling your body and you wanted to get back to your room before you started snapping at everyone.

You heard the door open and saw Buck. What the hell is he doing here? He's supposed to be at work, but instead he's back here and he's going to babysit you.

“How’s my baby doing?” — Buck squatted down to be on the same level with you and gave you the sweetest smile.

“What are you doing here?”

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. You were so annoyed that you needed to calm down. The last thing you wanted to do was take all your anger out on Buck. He doesn't deserve it, he's the only one who didn't treat you very differently when you got paralyzed.

“I canceled my shift because I couldn't miss your session. I know you said you'd be fine, but I just couldn't.” — he took your hand, kissed your knuckles and looked at you with a loving look.

“We've already finished, help me get to my room.”

When you got to your room, Buck helped you get on the bed. You loved having Buck with you in the evenings because he filled you with that sense of security and confidence. When he had night shifts, it was the most depressing time of your day because you were alone with your thoughts.

“So why did you finish earlier today? I thought you still had 20 minutes of your session when I came.” — lying down on the bed next to you, Buck asked you.

“I didn’t feel like continuing.” — you put your head on his chest and started drawing with your fingers some random stuff on his arm. You always did this when you had a lot of thoughts in your head, but you couldn't formulate them into sentences in any way.

“Why baby? Is something bothering you? You know you can always tell me.” — he’s so sweet, that’s why you don’t deserve him.

“A lot is bothering me, Buck. The expressions on people's faces when they come to me, how everyone tells me about progress and how I've been your burden for 4 months, but you can't admit it.”

You felt tears forming in your eyes. Anger was replaced by sadness, which tore you apart from the inside. It's a feeling of helplessness and complete lack of interest in this fight. You wanted to give up everything, to be alone so that no one else would waste their time on you.

“I can’t admit something that isn’t true, (Y/N). You survived and it's not a burden, but a blessing. I thank the universe for every day with you.” — he pulled you closer to him. How he would like to take away all the pain that's inside you. Buck knew what was going on in your head, so he was always there to reassure you.

“Sometimes I think it would be better if I died than to drag you through something you don't have to go through.” — you whispered it so quietly that you didn't know if Buck had heard. You weren't even sure that you heard your own voice.

Buck's heart broke at those words. You've never been so vulnerable with him, usually you go through even the most difficult events with a big smile and an open heart. But this accident took away a piece of you. You were once cheerful, but now you are completely broken.

“I didn't doubt us for a second. I don't want to spend the rest of my life with someone else, it's always been you.” — Buck put his fingers under your chin and lifted your head so you could look at him. “I know that you don't see progress and it's hard for you to accept that it's moving so slowly. Do you know why you don't see progress? Because every day you are in your body and you don't see yourself from the outside. But I see you. And I see all your efforts and you're doing such a good job, baby.”

“It doesn't feel like enough.”

“But you’re enough in every fucking way. I still see those (y/e/c) eyes that I fell in love with, I still see that smile that immediately makes my day better and I still see that woman I want to call my wife one day.” — Buck kisses your forehead.

“Even when I’m like this?” — you don't know why you're still doubting it, you don't want to lose Buck, but you need these words from him to be sure that you're not dragging him down and he really wants it.

“Like what? An absolutely normal human being? Nothing changed for me and my feelings are still the same too.” — you kiss him. For the first time in 4 months, you felt normal and you fucking loved it.

“Now baby, we will be home in a week, I’m sure familiar walls are going to make you feel better.” — and he kissed you one more time.

A week later, you were at home, your therapist said that you were ready for this and now you will travel to sessions from your home. You don’t need to live in a hospital now. Honestly, you were excited, you were homesick, and you wanted to be in an environment that always made you feel comfortable and safe.

Buck opened the doors to your shared house and said with a smirk:

“Welcome back, babygirl.”

The next thing you saw were your friends, who were joyfully welcoming you back.

“Here’s my girl, finally I will be able to come here on my days off and talk with a smart person.” — Hen had a big smile on her face and hugged you tightly.

“Ouch, I thought I was your one and only, Hen.” — Chim put his hand over his heart as if he had been stabbed. “But seriously, Jee missed her Aunt (Y/N), she’s excited to be babysitted by her favorite person.”

You loved this little girl, so you were always happy to spend time with her when Chim and Maddie were busy.

“Yeah, honestly, I will be back tomorrow, we need to bring back our barbecue parties, I'm craving your signature ribs.” — Eddie made the chef’s kiss.

“I thought I was making the best food, but Eddie hasn't stopped talking about these ribs for 4 months.” — Bobby laughed and came up to you. “Welcome back, (Y/N), we missed you.” — he gave you that fatherly hug that you loved so much.

You looked at Buck and for the first time smiled so sincerely that your cheeks started to hurt. You knew that the path would be long and difficult, but you will definitely cope with it next to your loved ones. A lot has changed, but at the same time nothing has changed, you can still enjoy all the joys that have become a part of you with each of your friends.

Buck came up to you and kissed you. Tears of joy poured from your eyes, right now you realize that you have the strength to cope with these and your relationship with Buck has become even stronger and more sensual.

“I think I can get used to this.” — you said into Buck’s lips. “I love you, thank you for being by my side.”

“Forever and always, I love you.”

One more kiss and this is your new normal.

[kazusys]

— him with you.

you and xiao argue. the aftermath mixed with some jealousy, near death, and a talk helps fix things. / hurt to comfort / cw: arguing, near death (not detailed), mentions of headaches and stuff / other: you’re dating, it’s implied that xiao spends a lot of time with lumine. obviously, you are not the traveler. (❕) a/n: wrote this after reading a lotta xiao angst :( i love lumine dw but i needed someone for the object of jealousy 😔 not proofread

pair(s): xiao x reader

wc: ~1.1k words

the wind whistled past your ears as the lantern in your hands seemed to grow heavier with each passing moment, as was your heart waiting for your beloved to arrive.

you even selected a secluded spot— almost perfect— knowing that xiao didn’t like the crowds.

if only the night two days ago never happened.

it was an argument, a small spark that flared into a raging blaze of words never taken back, unable to and blocked off by pride.

you felt your hands shiver. was this it?

your eyes trailed over to the people readying their lanterns, over to the hills and over to a specific faraway duo standing together, two lanterns held between them.

for some reason, your vision starts blurring and you have the urge to go closer, not in sight, but closer— prove yourself wrong.

but deep down, you knew who they were.

they fit next to each other nicely, more so than you could ever see with you and xiao. xiao and lumine. it’s her, it’s always been her, hasn’t it?

“hasn’t it?”

“what are you talking about?”

“it’s her. it’s always been her.”

“this is why mortals are so aggravating. you’re straying from our original topic of conversation.”

and the sudden thought leaves you almost paralyzed. “i’m not good enough. but she is. she can make him happier than i ever could.”

and you leave. all the accusations on both ends, all the daggers left in a sharper state than ever, every single thing he downgraded you on and every insecurity you spilled out with malice in your voice, all left unresolved as you both ignored the problems and each other.

as he stands with the renowned traveler, the beauty and gem of a person, who wasn’t you.

it wasn’t the first time.

retreating away from their figures as quietly as you can, you return to the spot you were at before.

as you watch all the lanterns float up into the air, especially those two’s, you send yours up too as the rest of you goes down.

and the only sound you process is the sound of your sobs and the tears watering the grass beneath you.

the next few days are dulled and robotic. painful sunny days going on and on despite the turmoil you feel, like the world shifted but no one notices except you and those who share the same feelings you harbor. you don’t feel like much. you don’t call xiao a single time. why would you? he’s probably busy…

…with…

…lumine.

and she deserves it. you can’t hate her.

you view the beings in the distance that you were tasked with on killing. you know that this’ll be harder than usual. everything is. with everything going on and your lack of sleep mulling over the said events, maybe fighting and continuing on with your line of work isn’t the best choice.

but it’s the only thing that can take your mind off of everything. at least, that’s what you think, until that everything invades your mind as you take down one of the abyss mages. you stumble at the thoughts, your legs trembling as you threaten to sink to the ground.

you don’t want to do this anymore. you can’t move.

and with your frozen stance, one of them strikes you away, and yet you can’t find yourself doing anything.

you don’t have the energy. you don’t have the motivation. nothing seems to matter anymore, and all that can fill your head are the thoughts that if someone else had replaced you on this job, she would’ve never had this problem.

she.

the last thing you can recall is a gust of wind and him in front of you.

you wake up in your shared room with xiao with a throbbing headache. everything rushes in, making the pulsing of your head turn into a mallet bashing it in.

there’s a note beside you in xiao’s handwriting with some sort of mint smelling substance, to help with the pain in your head. he wrote, “we’ll talk when you feel better. i love you. i’m sorry. -xiao”

you feel a part of you mend together with those simple words.

a few minutes later, he appears. you greet him with a small smile, only to be greeted back with a, “why didn’t you call me?”

you avert your eyes and look down at your blankets. “i just… figured…” your original reasoning sounded petty in your head, now that you were rested and less clouded.

“i told you to say my name whenever you are in trouble. so why didn’t you?” he said after a few moments of silence.

“i thought you wouldn’t come.”

he knelt down to your level. “that’s foolish. why wouldn’t i?”

you inhale, feeling tears build in your eyes as your lungs start to burn. “i… it’s everything— the argument, the way we didn’t talk for days after, how i saw you with lumine at the festival— i didn’t think you’d come because i thought you didn’t care anymore… i-i thought…”

you catch your breath as you measly try to wipe away your falling tears.

“i thought you fell out of love.”

you risk a glance at him, seeing his bewildered expression before hugging you tight.

your eyes widened as you felt his own tears fall with yours.

“i’m so sorry. i never should’ve… i never…” you hear him sniff, “i love you. i should’ve realized, i— i should’ve given you more of my time and fixed everything during the lantern rite, i shouldn’t have gone and— and made it worse.” his small sobs in between his words breaks your heart after it mends from what he’s spilling. but it’s a different break. a break that makes you want to hold him forever and never be the cause of his sad tears, ever again.

“xiao…”

“i’m a horrible lover. why did i say all those things? i… i’m sorry, i’m sorry… i love you so, so much, please don’t… please don’t end things with me, i still need you.” his voice breaks with his last few words as you sob together.

“i-i love you too, we both— we both said some things and i should’ve trusted you more— and— can i kiss you, please?”

he immediately presses his lips against yours, realizing just how much he missed the feeling and fit of you with him.

you two would talk more later when you both are more in your right headspace and can be more comprehensible, but for now…you both hold the other, crying and throwing “i love you”’s at each other as you relish in the vulnerability and the person you both missed most.

©️kazusys — 24/12/24; do not plagiarize/steal, repost, translate, and/or claim any of my works as your own.

[winchestersisterimaginessss]

Request: can you do one where their sister gets all wigged out at some guy being creepy and handsy with her at the bar and she freezes and doesn’t fight back and then it’s haunting her how she was just frozen and she makes either Sam and Dean fight her so she can be ready next time but it just sends her into a panic.

A/N: This was a really great request. I hope I wrote it the way you were wanting! Requests are always open. Also I would really appreciate feedback so it helps me with writing my other stories! Thanks everyone:)))

Warnings: Sexual harassment/Assault

Sam and Dean Winchester x Sister!Reader

The night was supposed to be a moment of relief, a fleeting break from the weight of your life as a hunter. After a brutal week of long hunts and narrow escapes, the three of you—Sam, Dean, and you—found yourselves at a dimly lit bar in a sleepy town, trying to enjoy a rare moment of normalcy. You were laughing, joking, letting the clinking of glasses and low hum of conversations drown out the fear that usually hovered in the back of your mind.

But then he showed up.

It started subtly. The man—slightly older, disheveled, his eyes too glazed with alcohol—leaned in a little too close. His words were slurred, his breath rank with whiskey. You smiled politely, leaning away as he stood just a little too near, but you didn’t think much of it at first. You were used to the occasional awkward encounter. But then, as you stood to move past him, his hand brushed against the small of your back.

It wasn’t casual. It wasn’t accidental. It was deliberate.

You froze.

His hand lingered for just a moment too long, then slid down a fraction, pressing lightly against your hip. Your body went stiff, the shock of it paralyzing you. Your mind screamed at you to push him away, to tell him to back off, but the words got stuck in your throat. The touch felt too foreign, too invasive. The very presence of him, towering too close behind you, crushed you in a way no monster ever had. It wasn’t the instinctive survival response you had when facing down a creature or a supernatural threat. This was something else entirely. This was vulnerability. This was a reminder that sometimes, even the strongest hunters could be caught off guard. You were cornered by something that wasn’t a demon, wasn’t a creature of the night. It was just a man. A man who was now way too close, his hands way too forward, and you couldn’t breathe.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” the creep murmured, his voice smooth but predatory. He took another step forward, his fingers tracing even lower on you. “You look like you need some company. What’s a pretty girl like you doing here all alone?”

Alone.

Your chest tightened at the word. Your heart raced, each beat harder than the last, and your body went cold. You couldn’t get away. You wanted to scream, to shout, to fight, but nothing came. You couldn’t even turn around. It was like your body had betrayed you, locking you in place, unable to move, unable to react.

You glanced over his shoulder. Sam and Dean were across the bar, still chatting, but your hands were trembling now, a quiet desperation crawling through you. You tried to make eye contact with Dean, praying he’d see something in your eyes. Something that would tell him something was wrong, something that wasn’t right, something that would make him come over here.

And that’s when it happened.

Your eyes found Dean’s, and everything else fell away. He was laughing, his face lit with that same infectious grin, but when his gaze locked with yours, that smile faltered. The laughter died in his throat. For a split second, his eyes darted from your frozen form back to the hand that was somewhere it shouldn’t have been, violating you. There was no mistaking the look in your eyes—the silent scream for help that you couldn’t make with your voice.

Dean’s body tensed instantly, his protective instincts kicking in faster than you could blink. He didn’t even need a second to process what was happening. His eyes turned hard, darkening with a familiar, dangerous intensity.

“What the fuck.” He growled.

Sam’s head snapped up at the sound of Dean’s voice, his posture shifting into a protective stance as he looked over toward you and then Dean was already halfway there.

Before you could even comprehend the sudden rush of movement, Dean was there, a force of nature, his hand wrapping around the man’s collar and yanking him away from you. He slammed the guy back into a nearby table with a resounding crash, his fist connecting with the guy’s jaw with a force that sent him stumbling.

The man grunted, disoriented, but before he could recover, Sam was already next to you, his arms strong and warm as he ushered you away from the scene. His eyes were filled with concern, but there was no time to ask questions, no time to process what had just happened.

“Are you okay?” Sam asked softly, but there was a subtle edge of panic in his voice as he scanned your face.

You couldn’t answer him. The words were stuck. Your breath came in shallow, gasping bursts as the overwhelming weight of what had just happened hit you. You had been so helpless. The shame twisted in your gut, mixing with the adrenaline that still had your heart hammering in your chest.

Dean stepped back towards the both of you, wiping his knuckles, his expression tight. He looked at you for a long moment before kneeling down to your level. “Y/N,” he said gently, his voice low but fierce. “Are you hurt?”

It took a few seconds for you to even gather the strength to speak, but when you did, your voice was barely a whisper. “I... I couldn’t... I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t stop him. I froze.”

The words came out in a choked sob, and Sam’s hand squeezed your shoulder, trying to ground you, trying to make you feel safe again. But the truth was, you didn’t feel safe. You felt exposed, humiliated, and terrified. You had spent your whole life fighting supernatural monsters—things that would rip you apart if you gave them half a chance—but this? This was something else.

Dean stood, looking at the man on the floor with a growl.

“I’ll fucking kill you! You son of a bitch!” As he lunged forward, Sam caught his arm, stopping him.

“We need to get her out of here, Dean. She’s shaking—she’s in shock,” Sam said, his voice strained. His gaze shifted to you, and his heart clenched at the fear written across your face. Dean’s eyes softened, the anger fading as he took in your terrified expression, replaced by an overwhelming concern. He nodded, his protective instincts kicking in.

Without another word, they moved toward you, both intent on getting you out of harm's way.

“You’re safe, Y/N. You hear me?” He said firmly. “We’ve got you. We’ve always got you.”

But you couldn’t shake it. The helplessness. The terror of being caught off guard like that, unable to move, to react, to protect yourself when you needed it most. The fear didn’t fade just because your brothers saved you. It stayed with you, lurking in the background, gnawing at the edges of your mind.

As you left the bar with Sam and Dean, you felt the weight of that fear creeping in with every step. You couldn’t stop the thoughts from swirling around in your head. What if it happens again? What if you froze again, what if next time no one was there to stop it?

The drive back to the bunker was silent, the tension thick. You sat in the backseat, staring out the window, the cool night air doing little to calm the storm inside you. Sam kept glancing at you through the rearview mirror, but you didn’t want to talk. You couldn’t. Not yet.

Dean was silent too, his hands gripping the wheel a little too tight, his jaw clenched as he focused on the road. He didn’t need to say anything for you to know that he was just as shaken as you were. He had seen that fear in your eyes. The one that had screamed for help but couldn’t get a single sound to come out.

When you got back to the bunker, you immediately went to your room, not wanting to face them, not wanting to face yourself. You needed time. Time to process everything. Time to breathe.

But the panic was still there, gnawing at you, even as the adrenaline wore off. You kept seeing his face, kept feeling his hand on you, the touch that made you feel trapped.

And for the next few days the memory of being completely frozen in the face of danger haunted you like a persistent shadow. You had faced monsters—ghouls, wraiths, creatures from hell, demons straight from the deepest pits. You'd been through hell and back, each time emerging battered but standing. But this—this was different. A man’s touch—unwanted, invasive—had completely paralyzed you. You’d never felt so small, so helpless, as you did in those seconds. The touch that made your skin crawl, the pressure of him moving closer, it had sent you into a panic you couldn’t escape from. You could have fought him, could have defended yourself—but you didn’t. You couldn’t. Your body refused to move, frozen in terror as if your instincts had completely betrayed you.

That wasn’t you. That wasn’t who you were, and the thought of it gnawed at you constantly, dragging you into a spiral of frustration. How could you have been so weak? How could you have faced hellish creatures but not some creep? Every time you closed your eyes, you could feel the man’s hands on you, the fear that shut you down completely. It ate away at you, an itch under your skin you couldn’t scratch. You needed to fix it, needed to make sure it never happened again.

The bunker was eerily quiet when you stumbled into the library. The faint smell of old books and polished wood filled your nose, but you couldn’t focus on anything other than the searing anxiety still clawing at your chest. You turned the corner to find that Sam and Dean were seated at the large table, hunched over a case file.

They didn’t need to see your face to know something was wrong. The way you walked—shoulders hunched, head down, eyes wild—spoke volumes before you even opened your mouth.

Dean’s eyes immediately snapped to you, his expression faltering as he registered the distress in your posture. “Hey, you okay?” His voice was softer than usual, concerned, but it didn’t quite reach the depth of panic you could feel in his gaze.

Sam’s brows furrowed in concern, and he stood up from his seat, eyes scanning you with an intensity that made your insides twist.

“Hey,” Sam said gently, walking toward you. “What’s going on?”

Your throat closed, the words struggling to form as the weight of everything that had happened at the bar came crashing back. The sensation of the creep’s hand on you, the way your body had refused to move, the helplessness, the terror—it felt like a cloud, dark and suffocating.

“I need one of you to fight me,” you choked out, your voice shaking with desperation. The words felt wrong as they left your lips, like something deep inside you was rebelling against them, but you couldn’t stop it.

Both of your brothers froze.

Dean’s face darkened with concern, his eyes narrowing. “What do you mean, fight you?” He asked, voice careful, as though he were testing the waters, trying to understand if you were truly asking what he thought you were asking.

“I need one of you to wrestle me. To fight me,” you repeated, your words now coming out more urgently. “I have to know that I won’t freeze again. I need to be able to fight. I need to know I can protect myself.”

Dean exchanged a glance with Sam, his brow furrowed in concern, the air between them thick with hesitation and concern. Sam opened his mouth as if to protest, but you cut him off before he could say anything.

“I have to do this, okay? You don’t understand, I can’t freeze like that again. I need to see if I can fight someone off when I’m vulnerable, like that creep at the bar. Please…” Your voice broke, desperation seeping through the cracks, and you took a step closer to them, your eyes wide, pleading.

“Y/N…” Sam’s voice was soft but steady, the concern in his eyes clear. “This isn’t the way, okay? We know you’re strong, but—”

“No,” you interrupted, shaking your head violently. “You don’t understand. You don’t understand how I felt, how frozen I felt. I couldn’t do anything. I can’t just let that happen again. Please.” Your voice cracked, and you could feel your whole body trembling, but you pushed through it, forcing yourself to stay steady, to make them understand. “One of you has to do this. I need to know I’m not just… helpless. Please.”

Dean swallowed hard, his jaw clenching. He was visibly uncomfortable with the idea. The last thing he wanted was to physically overpower you, especially after what had just happened. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words caught in his throat.

“Y/N, you’re not helpless. You’re strong, you’re so strong.” Dean said gently, though the words sounded strained. “You’ve been through hell and back, you’ve taken down monsters, demons, things worse than this. You’ve survived everything that’s come your way, okay? This doesn’t—this isn’t something you need to prove.”

Sam nodded, stepping closer and placing a gentle hand on your arm. “Dean’s right. We know what you’re capable of. This, uh, this isn’t the way to work through it.”

But you couldn’t hear them. The terror, the shame, the panic all mixed together until it overwhelmed every thought in your head. You couldn’t keep sitting in this fear, this paralyzing uncertainty. You needed to do something.

“I need this,” you begged, voice raw and trembling. “Please. One of you has to fight me, so I know I can fight someone off. I have to know I won’t freeze again. Dean…Please”

Dean looked at Sam, then back at you. His discomfort was clear—this wasn’t something he’d ever wanted to do, especially after what you’d just been through. He was much bigger than you, stronger, and he wasn’t sure how that was going to go. The thought of seeing you trapped under him, unable to escape, unsettled him. But the look in your eyes, the quiet desperation behind your words, broke him.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of silence, Dean sighed deeply. “Alright,” he agreed, softly. “But we do this my way. We don’t go too hard, and we don’t go too far, okay? This is for you to work through your fear, not for you to end up more scared.”

You nodded, swallowing hard. “Okay. But please, Dean. Do it like a real fight. I need it to feel real.”

Dean hesitated, looking down at his hands, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of pinning you down after everything that had just happened. Sam stood off to the side, his expression one of concern mixed with reluctant understanding, knowing that you needed this—however uncomfortable it was for all of you.

“Alright,” Sam said softly. “Stay focused. You’ve got this.”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, trying to gather the pieces of your resolve that had been shattered at the bar.

Dean stepped forward, positioning himself in front of you, his posture tense. You squared off with him, trying to ignore the pounding of your heart in your chest, the knot of dread in your stomach.

“Ready?” Dean asked, his voice softer now, like he was trying to give you the chance to back out.

“I’m ready,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Dean hesitated, and for a moment, it seemed like he wasn’t going to go through with it. But then, seeing the intense look in your eyes—the look of a person who had to prove to themselves that they were still capable of protecting themselves—he nodded.

Without warning, Dean lunged at you.

You dodged, twisting your body to the side, but his hands were faster, stronger. He grabbed you by the wrists, pulling you into his chest with surprising force. You twisted and kicked, struggling, but Dean’s grip was unrelenting. And for a moment, you thought maybe you could break free. You kicked him, punched at his arm, wriggled with every ounce of strength you had. But Dean’s grip only tightened, and in a matter of seconds, he had you pinned to the floor. His body was heavy on top of yours, holding you down firmly but not aggressively—yet the weight of him was overwhelming.

And that’s when the panic hit.

“You have to use your weight, shift your body. Get out of this.” Dean said.

You tried to twist again, but the force of his body was like a mountain against yours. You could feel your legs being pushed down as he shifted to get a better hold on you. Your breathing quickened. No, don’t panic. Don’t freeze. Don’t freeze.

Dean’s arms wrapped around you as he twisted you into a pin. You fought, squirmed, your mind spinning. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t move. He wasn’t even using all his strength, but it didn’t matter. The panic started to crawl up your throat.

“Breathe, Y/N,” Sam’s voice came gently from the sidelines. “You can do this. Focus. Use your legs. Use your hips.”

But you couldn’t focus. Your chest constricted, the panic spiraling as you felt the weight of Dean pinning you down. It wasn’t just him—it was the feeling of being trapped, of being unable to move.

“I can’t—” you gasped.

Dean’s grip loosened slightly, his voice softened. “Y/N, you’re alright. You’re safe. Focus on your breathing. Breathe through it, okay?”

But it was hard to breathe. You could feel the walls of your panic closing in. You were stuck. You couldn’t move. Your mind was racing back to that moment in the bar, when you couldn’t do anything. Don’t freeze. Don’t freeze. Don’t freeze.

“I can’t—I can’t get out,” you whispered, “I can’t move… I can’t…”

“Hey,” Dean said softly, his voice more comforting now. You couldn’t breathe. The air felt thick, suffocating, and your heart raced uncontrollably in your chest. The cold, sharp terror of being trapped—the same terror you felt in the bar—came rushing back with a vengeance. He saw the terror in your eyes, he saw the panic in your body language, but he knew you were determined to fight through it. “You’re not trapped. It’s just a hold. Do you need me to stop?”

“I…I can’t,” you gasped, your voice full of panic. You slapped at his chest, tried to push him off, but you couldn’t move. You were completely stuck.

“Breathe, Y/N. You’re okay. You’re alright,” Dean said, his voice steady, but you could hear the concern in his tone. He eased his grip on you slightly, but it didn’t matter. You were trapped. You couldn’t move. The air felt so thin.

Your body shook with terror, panic flooding your chest as you twisted and turned, desperately trying to escape. Your limbs felt heavy, useless, and your breaths were coming too fast—too shallow.

“No!” you gasped. “I—I can’t!”

“Y/N, listen to me,” Sam said, his voice calm and steady from his spot off to the side. “Breathe in through your nose. Slowly. In and out. Don’t focus on the panic.”

You tried to listen, but the fear was too much. You couldn’t stop the rising tide of panic, couldn’t stop the feeling of helplessness as Dean’s weight pinned you down. The fear that you couldn’t fight him off… What if I can’t fight anyone off? What if it happens again?

You slapped at his chest again, frantically, tears starting to fall, your breath coming in sobs.

“I… I can’t… No!” You couldn’t catch your breath. You couldn’t stop the terror from consuming you.

Sam was already there, stepping in, his voice calm but urgent. “Dean, stop. She’s panicking. Stop.”

“Please, get off me!" Your voice was raw, frantic, and it tore at Dean’s heart. The sheer panic in your eyes hit him like a freight train, and he immediately pulled back, though his face softened with deep concern. He saw the terror in you, felt it in the way you trembled.

“Okay, okay,” he murmured, his voice low and tight with emotion. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you. You’re alright.” His hands hovered, trembling slightly as he met your gaze, silently pleading with you to trust him. “I’m letting go now, okay?”

Slowly, cautiously, Dean released his grip, watching you closely as he allowed you to sit up. His heart ached when you didn’t immediately move, still shaking uncontrollably, your body stiff with fear. You looked fragile, like you might break at any moment, and it made his chest tighten.

Without thinking, you reached out, gripping his arm with desperate hands, as if the world around you had collapsed and he was the only thing holding you together. Your fingers trembled against his skin, and he could feel the pulse of your fear coursing through your touch.

“Hey, hey… You’re safe,” Dean said softly, but his voice was thick with emotion, his heart heavy with the weight of your pain.

His breath caught in his throat as he saw the tears brimming in your eyes, the overwhelming sorrow breaking free.

The words came like a vow, but his arms moved before his mind could even process it. He pulled you gently against his chest, enveloping you in the warmth of his embrace, as if he could shield you from the world and all the horrors it had thrown your way. Your sobs tore through the air, ragged and broken, and Dean’s chest tightened, his own breath unsteady with the intensity of your grief.

“Shhh…” he whispered, pressing his cheek to the top of your head, his voice soft but unwavering. “You’re okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe, I promise.”

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer, his hand running through your hair in slow, soothing strokes. Every sob you let out shattered his heart a little more, but he didn’t let go. He couldn’t. He only held you tighter, murmuring quietly in between each tearful breath of yours, “You’re safe. No one’s gonna hurt you. I won’t let them. I’m here. I’m right here.”

“I couldn’t stop you," you whispered, voice trembling like a fragile leaf in the wind. "I…I couldn’t f—fight you off. What if… what if that happens again? What if I c—can’t protect myself when I n—need to?" You sobbed.

Dean’s heart clenched at the sound of your voice, filled with self-doubt and anguish.

Before he could speak, Sam’s voice broke through, warm and steady, as he knelt in front of you. His hands, strong but gentle, settled on your arm. "Hey," he said softly, his gaze never leaving yours, "You’ve always got something with you—your gun, your knife. And even if you don’t have anything... if you’re caught off guard, if you don’t have anything on you—we’ve got you. You’re never alone in this, Y/N."

The words felt like they should have been a comfort, but the fear still gnawed at you, and it didn’t feel like enough. Not yet.

Dean’s hand continued to move in those small circles on your back, his touch warm, grounding. His voice was quiet but fierce, filled with a tenderness that made your heart ache. “We’re not gonna let anything happen to you," he murmured. "We’ll always be here for you, no matter what. We’ll train you, we’ll help you work through it. You’re not alone, Y/N. You hear me?”

You nodded, unable to speak, the tears continuing to fall as the weight of everything washed over you. The feeling of being broken, of being utterly helpless, still lingered—but hearing them, seeing the sincerity in their eyes, made something inside you crack open, just a little bit.

The sobs that had been building broke free again, more violent now, but with them came a fragile comfort, something you hadn't allowed yourself to feel in what felt like forever. Dean didn’t hesitate. Without another word, he pulled you tighter into his chest, his arms wrapping around you tightly as you sobbed into him.

He held you with a quiet intensity, his warmth enveloping you, his steady heartbeat grounding you. Sam sat beside you, his presence a silent reassurance that they were there. Together, they were there.

“You’ll be okay,” Sam said again, his voice a soft promise. “We’re gonna help you get through this.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you believed him.

Dean whispered, his voice thick with emotion, “You’re strong, kid. You’re gonna get through this. But for right now, you’re safe. You hear me? Safe.”

You nodded again, the fear still present, but somehow, just a little less suffocating. Maybe, just maybe, knowing they were there, that you didn’t have to face this on your own, was enough for now. Enough to let the weight of the world rest, even if just for a moment.

[justauthoring]

the harsh truth [2].

because the truth was, it just wasn't possible. even if you and reno desperately wished it was.

a/n: this didn't start as a continuation of my other reno fic but it ended up being one :) you also don't need to read part one, but it's recommended!

pairing: reno sinclair x f!reader

tw: potential rebirth spoilers? just be cautious if you haven't played

part one.

This was so wrong.

Unbelievably, without a doubt, to the point your friends would hate you if they knew, wrong.

And yet, you couldn’t help yourself.

He was everything you stood against. The perfect embodiment of everything you fought against. He worked for Shinra… and not just a businessman or a foot soldier, but a Turk. He’d spent the entirety of his career trying to convince your friend Aerith to help Shinra, and while he’d never physically harmed her nor did she seem particularly afraid of him, it still stood to point that his and the rest of the Turks intentions weren’t all that innocent. 

Cloud had fought against them many times. Yes, more times than not, Cloud had come out on the winning side, it didn’t erase the fact that they’d been at each other’s throats more times than you could count.

He was the enemy.

He was Shinra.

Sure, you didn’t inherently think he was a bad person. In fact, you thought he had the capabilities to do great things, that deep in his heart he was a good person but he still did bad things.

He’d actively participated in the Sector Seven plate falling. There was no doubt, no way to change the story in small tweaks that made him seem just a little better. You’d been there. Sector Seven was your home just as much as it was Tifa’s or Barrets, Jessie, Wedge and Biggs had been your friends just as much as anyone else's… You’d seen him that day, in that helicopter, had nearly been barrelled by his own bullets.

Of course, he hadn’t known you were there. Not at first.

But still, it didn’t change anything.

It terrifies you though. Scares you to the core. Watching as Cloud pulls back his sword and aims it directly for Reno’s head. He’s going to kill him, you realize, going to hit him without a second thought. And sure, the others looked just as horrified; particularly Tifa, because killing was never something any of you had ever done.

Hurt, maim, beat… sure. All of those. But never killing. 

It’s different, though, for you. Means something else.

The striking, paralyzing realization that despite all of it, the thought of Reno dying makes you feel sick. It hurts in a way you can’t directly explain and there’s a desperation that’s bleeding through you to save him without a second thought. It’s why your feet move before you can stop them, it’s why it feels like you blink and then suddenly you’re in front of Reno, holding onto him tightly, on your knees, turning up to look at Cloud’s terrifying gaze and pleading with him.

“Please,” you cry, hoping there’s a shred of some care in Cloud for you that he’ll hear you and that he’ll stop. “Please don’t hurt him!”

And the words are intimate. More intimate than you mean. You’re not begging Cloud to stop for him, nor are you doing it because the act in itself is wrong… you’re begging him because you don’t want it to be Reno on the other end. You don’t want Reno to die. You’re doing it because you can’t stomach the thought of losing him. 

There’s a moment of hesitation, Cloud stops and his fingers twitch on the handle of his buster sword but then, he’s leaning forward, shifting with the intention of following through and your heart sinks. But you refuse to move. You’d rather be hit then Reno.

Reno shifts when he realizes Cloud isn’t going to stop, and there’s a paralyzing fear as your name leaves his lips in a shrieking cry and he moves with the intention to shove you aside but then Tifa’s arms are wrapping around Cloud and she’s pulling back, screaming his name.

You watch for a moment more, heart pounding against your chest, eyes drifting across everyone else who stares in a mix of shock and confusion, particularly aimed at you. But then your eyes fall on Aerith, and oddly enough she’s smiling; there’s a hint of worry behind her gaze as she shuffles to Cloud but she winks at you and despite it all, you flush.

Pushing yourself to your knees, you turn, knowing that Tifa has Cloud and let your eyes drift across Reno. You avoid his gaze even as he stares deeply back at your own, letting your eyes drift across his entire body. He’s got a few bruises here and there, and there’s a cut across his arm that’s bleeding but–but he’s okay.

When you finally meet his eyes, Reno is staring back at you, lips parted in disbelief. 

There’s a moment where the two of you just stare at each other, no words spoken, and then Reno leans towards you; “Y-Y/N–”

“We need to get going.”

Cloud’s sharp tone pulls you from Reno, eyes turning only to find him staring back at you, gaze harsh. Your heart plummets to the pit of your stomach, the realization of what you’d just done catching up to you; they probably all hated you. Tifa, Aerith, Barett… all of them were probably looking at you with a similar look because of what you’d done and it was you standing with Reno, on the opposite side of them.

With the man who had indirectly or directly hurt them in some way.

“We don’t have time to waste,” Cloud continues, and you flinch at his tone.

Eyes falling to your feet, you can’t bear to look at the others. “I…–”

“It’s okay, Y/N,” Aerith cuts in and your eyes snap to her at her soft, warm tone. “We understand.”

She’s smiling, just like before. A gentle, comforting smile as she steps forward and nods at you.

Your lips part, shock flooding you.

When your eyes drift across the rest, they all wear similar expressions. Tifa, though clearly worried about Cloud, is smiling at you too and Yuffie’s grin mischievously down at you, wiggling her brows. Barrett looks somewhat confused, but he doesn’t look mad and Red and Cait’s expressions are just as eased.

None of them are mad.

“We’ll keep going,” Aerith nods at Cloud who has since turned his back to you. “You should get Reno somewhere safe,” she explains, sending you a thumbs up, stepping until she’s right in front of you.

You blink, body easing as her words settle.

Then, she leans down, lowering her voice; “and don’t worry about Cloud.”

She pulls back before you can say anything else, grabbing Cloud by the arm and tugging him with her as Tifa and Barrett both send you nods and then they’re all turning, walking off.

And just as Aerith turns the corner, she smiles back at you; “try to catch up you can, kay?”

You nod, still in shock, numb somewhat, until a minute passes and it’s just you and Reno.

Turning to the man, your chest tightens when you realize you’re faced with a whole new reality and that is Reno who no doubt will say something.

“Where’s Rude?” You find yourself asking, shifting to grab him so you can help him up. “Can you walk? If not, I can–”

Reno stops your movements, grabbing onto your arm with a tight hold before tugging you back down to sit with him. You stumble slightly, falling against him, your hands falling on his shoulders to catch yourself as you meet his gaze, faces inches apart from one another.

“Reno–”

“That was insane,” Reno breathes, shaking his head at you. “He would’ve killed you.”

Frowning, you swallow thickly; “it’s Sephiroth, I think… Cloud–well, I don’t think he’d try to hurt me–”

“Y/N,” Reno cuts in, “that’s not what I’m talking about.”

Lips parting, your shoulders fall. “My feet just moved.”

“You could’ve been killed!”

“You too,” you find yourself crying, eyes widening in exasperation as you meet his eyes. “And I couldn’t… let that happen, okay? Not to you… I was so scared and then my feet were moving and I just… fuck, are you okay?”

Reno stares back at you in disbelief.

“I thought you hated me,” he whispers, finally letting go of your arm.

“I tried to,” you mumble, glancing at your lap. “But I can’t. I… I love you.”

Reno sighs. “I’m a Turk.”

“I know,” you echo, biting your lip. “And I'm a part of Avalanche.”

His hand twitches by his side and he leans closer; “we could never work out.”

“I know,” you repeat, finally raising your head to meet his gaze once more. This time, you hold it, refusing to look away. He’s inches away, you can feel his breath ghost across your skin and feel his warmth radiate off of him. It’s the closest you’ve been to him since before the plate fell and you’ve missed him so much. “I couldn’t let you die though.”

Reaching forward, Reno cups your cheek and instantly, you lean into his touch. His eyes are sad, and there’s a deep frown across his lips. “I know,” he mimics, having nothing else to say. “I love you too, you know.”

Eyes falling shut, you let out a shaky breath. Normally, someone telling you they loved you as well would be happy but it pulls an ache from you that you can’t rightly explain.

“Can you walk?” You decide to ask after a moment.

“Yeah,” he grunts, pulling his hand away as you shuffle back, grabbing him by the arm and helping him to his feet. He lets out a groan as he does, and you frown up at him, watching as he uses his free hand to hold his stomach.

“Here,” you mumble, wrapping your arm around his waist and letting him lean his weight against you. “I’ll get you to Rude, okay?”

He hums lightly; “okay.”

“Then… then I have to go after them… you know that, right?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, “yeah, I know.”

He says it with a heavy heart and you feel it all the same. Because you loved him, and he loved you, but he was Shinra and you were Avalanche and despite it all, you both knew the reality of your situations.

Even if it hurts.

So damn much.

[avoxrising]

The Feral One • Ch 23

Finnick x Y/N

Series Masterlist Link

Ahhh so I actually love this part of the story. Prepare yourselves for a wild few chapters before the end. See y’all in the next chapter for the sewers ;)

Content Warnings - Injury, death, panic attack, games flashback

When you wake up, your group is stopped for lunch in a different location from where you slept. Finnick explains that he had to sedate you last night and you’ve been out all morning. The group moved a few blocks but didn’t film you at all because you were passed out. He makes sure you eat before the group gets moving again.

You excuse yourself to the washroom of the apartment you are in to freshen up. Your arm is also killing you and you want to take a look at it.

Removing your shirt, you gasp at the sight. The veins on your arm have started to turn black as they pulse with pain. Were you poisoned? Were you having a weird reaction to the sedative? Whatever it is, you don’t have time to dwell on it as you pull back on your shirt and move to follow the rest of the group outside.

“Hold up!” Boggs states, causing the group to stop. “We’ve got a pod. Take cover.”

The group splits up to hide between two pillars. The camera crew get the shot set up before Katniss is instructed to shoot an arrow through an arch up ahead.

The street quickly erupts in gunfire as the pod is triggered. You feel paralyzed by the noise, the pain in your arm intensifying.

You finally calm down when suddenly you hear a loud explosion. Turning, you see Boggs laying on the ground sans legs. Katniss and one of the other soldiers rush towards the scene and Katniss gets the holo from him. The other soldier triggers another pod and chaos erupts.

Black goo floods into the now locked courtyard you are in. You are urged to run towards a building but the ringing in your ears is too much.

You stumble your way forward, not moving quickly enough to keep up with the group.

“Come on Y/N!” one of the camera people shouts as she grabs onto your arm to pull you along.

With a loud growl, you lunge for her, tackling her to the pavement. You snap your teeth at her face, but someone else pulls you off and sticks a syringe into you before you could jump on anyone else else.

You wake up a few hours later in a new apartment. Your wrists are bound together in an effort to restrain you. Finnick is sitting close to you but everyone else has made sure to keep their distance.

“What happened?” you groggily ask him.

“You and Peeta both snapped,” he sighs. “He tried to throw Katniss into the goo and you tackled Cressida to the ground when she touched your arm.”

“I have to go back to 13,” you mumble. “It’s too dangerous for me here.”

“You’re ok,” Finnick assures you. “It was a high stress situation and you reacted badly to touch. Nobody here blames you and Cressida is fine.”

“No something’s wrong with me,” you tell him, panic in your voice. Knowing he needs to take you somewhere to calm down, Finnick tells the soldier on watch that he’s taking you to the bathroom and walks you to the other end of the apartment.

You gasp for air as your hands grip the linoleum counter tops.

“Breathe love,” Finnick instructs. “You’re ok.”

“No I’m not,” you gasp, terror in your eyes. “It’s happening. My arm…”

“Does your arm hurt?” Finnick asks and you nod your head yes. “Which one?”

“Right,” you say through gritted teeth, the pain making you want to scream.

“Can I take your shirt off to look at it?” he asks as he unbinds your wrists. You shake your head no.

“I’ll do it,” you mutter as you attempt to use your left arm to free your right from your shirt.

Finnick gasps at the sight of your arm, the black veins having intensified and spread since earlier in the day.

“What happened?” he asks, worriedly looking over your arm.

“I can’t escape the clock,” you mumble.

Finnick quickly steps out of the room and calls for someone named Jackson. He returns with the soldier you saw on watch when you woke up and she takes a look at your arm.

“Don’t touch me!” you growl as you flinch away from her approaching hand.

“I’ve never seen this,” she states to Finnick. “I’d radio for medical but our communications are still down. She’ll have to carry on with us till we can contact someone.”

“When did this happen?” Finnick asks you.

“It… it started with… the headache,” you manage to get out. The black veins were slowly beginning to spread up your shoulder towards your neck.

“So it wasn’t from the pods,” Jackson notes.

“Maybe we should ask Katniss,” Finnick suggests. “She’s good with medicine.”

“No,” you growl, pulling your sleeve back on over your arm. “I’m fine. Not a word of this to anyone or I rip your throat out.”

That night your dream is different. Travis, the boy from 11, sits in Wiress’ place on the beach. Black blood flows from the gash in his side, and his eyes are dead as he looks at you.

The 69th games had come down to just you two. The game makers had released mutts to push you both to the cornucopia for a final dual, and what would be the death of Travis.

You were exhausted but determined to return home. Anger flowed through his veins, while adrenaline flowed through yours. He swung his sickle at you over and over as you did your best to evade his attack. Your lone knife was lost, buried deep in the forest after he threw it.

He was bigger than you but unfocused. Despite the swelling in your face making it impossible to see out of your eye, you managed to grab his arm as he swung at you, the sharp blade inching closer to your head.

You didn’t hesitate. Your teeth sunk into his fingers as your hands pulled at the handle of his weapon. He screamed in pain as the extremities were severed, his blood coating your tongue.

Your foot connected with his stomach, successfully separating him from his weapon before plunging it into his side.

On the beach, black blood streams from the stubs on his hand as he finally speaks.

“Your time is up, feral one”

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[youtellmeman]

Random sully family headcanons

Including- lo’ak, neteyam, Jake, neytiri, and kiri

Jake

Definitely dropped all of his kids at least once. Like it’s actually so bad neytiri didn’t let him hold tuk for a minute just cause she wanted to give her a fighting chance and he still managed drop her

“Babe cmon she’s my kid too I just wanna hold her for a bit I promise I won’t-” “No you are a skxawng. You will not drop this one before she’s had a chance to learn to walk.” “But-” “No.”

Despite dropping his children he still manages to be all of their favorites at one point or another. For the boys it was when they turned 7 to age 10 cause he was so willing to throw them around and lift them by their ankles.

This does end up in them all getting in trouble sometimes when they play too rough and one of them gets hurt . “shhh stop don’t cry your fine you don’t need your mom”- him and whichever son isn’t hurt.

For the girls it’s when their toddlers. Jake was definitely always a patient in Kiri’s make believe clinic cause ik that girl was playing doctor

And dear dear tuk gets him where it hurts most. “Daddy let me do your makeup” really it’s just face paint but he will end up looking like a clown. And don’t let tuk catch him trynna wash his face. It’ll be clash of clans up in there.

“Tuk I have to go out I have duties.” “Leave it on” “babygirl daddy can’t-” tears start to well as soon as he tries to fight back. Def attends a meeting or two with his face covered in a blend of colors

Ok ok now not family Jake

Can’t handle spice for shit I’m sorry someone had to say it look at that man he may be blue but he was white first that mf can’t take it

Let neytiri or even you make him something with a lil kick. Keeps clearing his throat and wiping the dribble from his nose like y’all can’t tell he’s literally dying.

Along with the whole food thing I think he definitely knows how to cook. I’m not saying he’s stellar but bro can wip something up when needed

Definitely forgets how big he is sometimes like he spent so much of his life being normal height and part of it being bellow that he will just smack right into thing or get stuck cause he swore he could fit. He cannot

I also feel like he gets still gets phantom pain in his legs like from being paralyzed before moving over to his avatar completely. Like it’s such a big mental hurdle that I doubt it goes away

Last but not least. And this is my personal favorite. Definitely goads his children into shit.

“Well if you’re too scared” “pussy” “I knew you wouldn’t”

Doesn’t work on kiri cause she just walks away from him

The other three tho, fucking horrible will immediately loose all prior hesitation and just go balls to the wall with whatever it is.

Neytiri

My wife 🙏

Okk mom neytiri up first

Fucking soccer mom bro doesn’t give a damn will fight for all of her kids even if they’re wrong

Corrects them in private but in public, will square up don’t play

Also feel like I’m the beginning she was definitely the stricter parent but as things changed she softened up where Jake took over being more rah rah

Will stand by Jake on most things but sometimes he goes too far and trust me he hears about it

Despite Jake having the boys favoritism in the adolescents. Before and after they are big mommas boys.

As toddlers yo they are up her ass constantly to the point where she has to ask her mom if this is normal.

“Sa’nok my sons they stick to me like sap from a tree it cannot be normal.” “They are children it is what they do.” “Mother I cannot relieve myself without one them following.”

When they get over it though. Heartbroken truly distraught. The first time one of the boys decided they’d rather hang out with their father she was betrayed and Jake of course didn’t help.

As teens they’re not as clingy as they once were but they definitely come to her for comfort or just affection. Whether it be random hugs from her or just cheek/forehead kissed from their mother they’re all about it

The girls and her are different I feel like. They’re definitely close especially tuk with how small she is. Her and kiri though I feel as though they connect more through their spirituality

And she def teaches kiri how to bead and sow and make clothing. I think they have little daughter dates where they’ll make an afternoon of just making beads and song cords. Chatting or sitting in a comfortable silence

Moving on cause my girl isn’t just a mom

To rival Jake. Spice monster bros. Tears it up without a second thought. She doesn’t even blink

I feel like it definitely becomes a big thing for a minute like norm grows a Carolina reaper just to see how na’vi taste buds react to what we consider to be real hot and she eats that shit like it’s a cherry

“Ok so this is a Carolina reaper it’s really hot so I’d suggest just taking a small-” *throws that shit back like a shot* “I-” “tiri spit it out.” “Why ma Jake, it tastes good. Could I have another?”

And I feel like it’s just her like the other na’vi def feel the heat on it. She goes around offering her new favorite snack to everyone and leaves a trail of pain in her wake. Offers one to Mo’at, simply gets a shake of the head paired with

“I will not be taken by Eywa today”

Way better cook compared to Jake. Kids will shoot her a painstaking glance as a plea for help if they see him cooking something they know he has no buisness making and she’ll take it upon herself to slip in some spices and correct some of his mistakes when he’s not looking. Saving her husbands dignity and her children’s pallets.

Tears up the dance floor don’t play with her. Feel like Jake introduces the concept of dance battles as a joke and it becomes a thing within the clan but everyone knows not to challenge neytiri cause she with whip ur ass McJagar style

Snorts when she laughs. Real loud too Jake thinks that shit is hilarious until he honks like a seagull one day and they agree to go cut out the laugh jokes for the sake of their marriage

Neteyam

Best big brother every don’t play with it

Takes after his mother in the sense that he is more than willing to kick ass for his siblings

Someone made fun of kiri for not being a “real” part of the family once and they had to call Jake to restrain him (def let him get in a few good ones before pulling him off)

The kind of older brother that steals his baby sister when his mom isn’t looking

Gets to the point that if neytiri or Jake can’t find tuk they’ll just assume she’s with neteyam cause he’ll just snatch her up and she LOVES it

Despite being less of a trouble maker then lo’ak he still definitely does shit he shouldn’t the only difference is he’s better at being sneaky

I think he’s more cautious around humans compared to his brother but he’s definitely really curious too

Ends up getting introduced to some of our music from earth.

Bro is SZA’s number one fan a thousand years later

“I might kill my ex, not the best idea~” singing to himself quietly unaware of his brother and spider giggling in the bushes. “Bravo! Give us more! More I say!” “Oh shove off lo’ak!”

He def got that rnb voice though boutta guve ninat a run for her money

Takes after his mother on the whole spicy food thing. Loves Carolina reapers too, he thinks it’s so funny to eat them and then breath real hard in his brothers direction just to watch his eyes tear up

Despite being able to sing can’t dance for shit, two left feet when it comes to rhythm lord help him truly

Really good at hunting, takes after his mother once again

The only person good enough at stalking that can sneak up on neytiri without her having to pretend she doesn’t hear him coming.

Weapon of choice is a bow although I feel like he has really good aim no matter what, throwing knives, slingshot, even a gun when his dad teaches him. Just a natural

Will say though someone give this boy a hug cause the amount of pressure he is under being the eldest son holy cow bro

Feel like this leads to neteyam having anxiety attacks just at the thought of having to take over the mantle one day.

Always goes to kiri when he has them she’s the only person who can calm him down

Lo’ak

Despite loving his family I think he can feel really isolated from them at times

I think him and kiri bond sometimes just over feeling like the odd ones out.

He compares him self to his dad and older brother so much like it’s just sad plus he’s always in trouble so it doesn’t help much

Even though him and his dad have their problems he strives so hard to make him proud

If he had to pick a favorite sibling it would be tuk, because despite neteyam being all over her and her being a snitch from time to time. Tuk just adores lo’ak

“Tuk you can’t come with me, it’s for big kids only” “I’m big!” “Cmon tuk it’s fine you can hang out with me.” “No! I want ‘ak I don’t wanna go with tem” “….damn bro how’d that feel” “ouch”

It’s almost tragic Fr, but he almost always folds when it comes to her. The only time he says no and stands on it so when he thinks she’ll get hurt or won’t be able to keep up.

Him and kiri besides being sad together also hang out pretty often

I think, like kiri and neytiri , she and him make beads together tho it’s more kiri doing it and him trying and failing

They having matching necklace pendants. He wears his in his hair as a charm cause he feels like that’s where it’s closest to him

While he does hold resentment towards neteyam I don’t think it’s enough to mess up their relationship. They were kids together and I think that means more

So that being said. Huge pranksters but only on their father.

The about of times Jake has had water fall on him out of no where is almost sad. They place decoys so he thinks he outsmarted them and then bam, face full of colored powder.

“Hah, those suckers. What do they think, that I’m stupid or so-” *leaf hits him in the face dousing him with bright orange pigment. Followed by the snorts and chuckles of his sons* “I’m gonna kill those damn kids”

Takes after his daddy, cannot handle spice. Minutely better then Jake but like not really

Neytiri makes this na’vi version of chilli and she has to make a tamer version for him and Jake. Even tuk can take spice better than them

Also really interested in human culture and ends up with his own little music taste

Feel like he’s big on 90’s rnb and hip hop. Destiny’s child, dr.dre, Tupac without question

Definitely spits hard ass bars for fun sometimes.

*Spider beat boxing shitily in the background while lo’ak is laying the ground work for some life changing shit. Mean while Jake is watching from afar with their mother* “that’s my son”

Will dance and he will eat y’all up with that shit. Norm lets him watch just dance videos sometimes when he comes over. Changes the course of his life

Will get jiggy with it everywhere and anywhere. Would kick everyone’s ass in dance dance revolution if they had it

Hunting, he’s alright

Bros nothing super special cause he’s clumsy as fuck and loud therefore everyone and their mother knows he’s coming but he’s not that bad in combat

Sometimes

Feral fighter, will bite and scratch, real dangerous with a knife. I’d definitely say he’s more of a close contact fighter over distance

Kiri

(We need more kiri love out here man)

Jake’s princess I’m sorry

She has that man wrapped around her finger and she KNOWS it

Will literally get in trouble with neytiri over it sometimes

“Dad can I go out foraging?” “No I want you to watch over tuk today.” “Please dad? Can’t lo’ak do it?” Qeue the sad baby eyes “of course baby girl you’re right.” “Tsk ma Jake so foolish”

Loves all her siblings so much tho and if she ever feels left out she knows she can go to them they’ll comfort her and make her feel like one of them again

Def starts shit with lo’ak for no reason, she just thinks it’s funny to make him mad

Will ease off sometimes when she knows their father went off on him recently though

That’s when him and her make neteyam’s life difficult poor boy.

Is neither here nor there on the spice scale. Better than Jake and lo’ak for sure but no where near her older brother and neytiris tolerance. Besides I don’t think she really cares for it anyway

Loves to cook, very bad at it

Truly comical how many times neytiri and even mo’at have tried to teach her. Like she’s given the family food poisoning multiple times

Makes Jake try everything cause she knows he won’t say no

Subject to tuk’s makeup makeover also but is usually a good sport

Music cause I have to now

She’s an indie girl don’t play

Pheobe bridgers, Liana Flores, salvia path

Girl in red (😋🤭)

Cannot sing but is an okay dancer

At least by na’vi standards cause I’m convinced she cannot figure out human dance moves for the life of her

Lover not a fighter

And I mean that literally that girl ain’t throwing or catching hands anytime soon

She’ll bite a bitch quick and in a hurry tho if she really must

Fr Fr tho she’s a healer we know this miss girl is one of the best there is in the class

Taking after her mother and her mothers mother ofc

I do think however that she likes fishing. Not using a bow, stick and string waiting patiently fishing. Always returns her catches to the wild after praying to eywa in apology for stressing out one of her creatures

[dialalagirl]

Mmh! yes queen you know I'm foaming at the mouth for that Laito angst. My Main man, they could never turn me against you 💚 💚💚 ( god I have horrendous taste 😭😭 )

Laito wasn’t used to this. His gaze flickered to you as you sat across the room, absorbed in your book, your expression distant, cold—so unlike the teasing, warm smile that used to greet him whenever he’d breeze in with his usual charm.

He fancied himself a master of fate—his own, and most certainly yours. The threads he spun—spider, insect he was—were cautious, coy, possibly delicate, but always firm in their trappings.

Since his wretched curse of a mother burned her mark across the mansion’s grounds, Laito had relished control. It was a mask he wore comfortably—an artful costume for his carefully cultivated stage. He played the predator, and you, his beloved, were just another temporary plaything. A little bitch—fleeting and disposable like the others.

But recently, that name—once enough to make you flinch—now sat differently on your lips. It had morphed into something like pride, unsettling him, as though the strings were firmly pulling on his hands, not your own. Puppet, puppeteer—the line blurred, and the recesses of something he’d rather forget forced themselves into the light.

At first, he brushed it off. Like everything else that failed to amuse him, it was nothing. You were just having a moment. But the silence dragged on. And on.

He'd always loved your laughter, the way you’d meet his teasing with a a sharp retort, how you’d pull away just out of reach, your mischievous grin dancing in his vision. But now? There was a stillness to you. You no longer met his gaze the same. Instead, his own reflection in your eyes seemed trapped—much like it had been his mother’s when she took him like a lover as a child.

The shift was subtle, a web spun one thread at a time. He hadn’t noticed it—until now. Too late, perhaps.

"You know," Laito hummed, dropping onto the couch with a lazy smirk, "you've been awfully quiet. It’s getting rather boring, fufu~ What happened to that spirited little minx?”

You didn’t look up. But he felt it—the shift in the air, a tightening like something was slowly closing in around the both of you, suffocating the space.

"I’m just thinking," you said quietly, finally looking at him—but it was different. The way your lips barely moved… it reminded him of the way Cordelia used to speak, when the pretense of affection fell away, and her words became cold, deliberate—a tool.

Laito’s chest tightened. He tried to push it away, burying the thoughts deep within the trappings of his mind, where they belonged. 

"Thinking about what?” His voice was a touch too casual, too light, like he didn’t want you to see the shift in his own gaze. “Planning something fun, are we~?”

You smiled, but there was no humour in it—just quiet satisfaction. "Maybe," you murmured. "Maybe not. You’ll see soon enough, Laito."

There it was again—that tone. His insides twisted, like a familiar knot in his gut. It wasn’t fear, not exactly. But he couldn't shake it. Something’s wrong.

"How rather strange," he said, leaning forward, his voice suddenly low, intent. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’ve turned into a foreboding little bitch. What plans do you have for us?” 

"Nothing's going on," you replied—too flat, as if your words were set to paralyze. The air seemed to succumb to every movement you made, every breath you measured to take.

Laito’s eyes narrowed. "You're not fooling anyone," rising from the couch and closing the distance between you. He reached for a strand of your hair, fingers brushing against it—a reminder that you were his. 

He let the strand slip from his grasp—until he was done with you. 

Discomfort gnawed at him.

 "I know you, you know. I can tell when you’re hiding something."

But you didn’t respond. Instead, you turned toward the door.  

"I’m leaving," you said, casual. "Don’t wait up."

His mind raced—what the hell was happening? 

“And where do you think you’re going? I am not in the mood to chase you tonight, little bitch.”

You paused but didn’t look back. Your voice lit with the faintest smirk, "Wherever I want. But you’ll be fine. You always are. You’re good at that, aren’t you, Laito? Playing games."

The words hung in the air. 

The moon softly grazed the pale curve of your face and, still, you were a dangerous beauty to behold. It seems you had spun your own web—one that was slowly tightening around him.

"Don't pretend like you don't care," he said. His smirk was gone and its pretence. His soul was an ugly thing, exposed—perhaps it was better you no longer looked at him.

Your shoulders dropped, and your eyes met his with something… almost fond. But soon, that look—and you—were gone.

Laito stood frozen, staring at the door where you had just been. His fingers traced the wooden frame where your shoulders had brushed past. His lips trembled, but he didn’t dare speak. What was this?

The game had changed. Something had shifted. And in sickening clarity, he realized it.

He was the one now trapped in your web.

[acciocriativity]

DIFFERENT AS BLACK AND WHITE - JYH (FROM THE 300 FOLLOWERS EVENT)

(Pictures are not mine, credits for the rightful owners)

Requested from anon

Thank you so much for the request 💕 This was so much fun to write, but damn it took me so long and I'm so sorry! I tried my best to make this bold cat black reader, but you guys let me know your thoughts!

Ateez Masterlist

You couldn’t blame the shock on anyone’s face whenever you and Yunho went out together in a friendly manner, even though it pains you to say it out loud. But it doesn’t mean it wasn’t annoying to notice it for the 150th time, someone whispering about the two of you behind your back in a restaurant nearby your office.

You took another deep breath as you played with the chains of your bag on your lap, a simple way to relieve stress that Yunho wouldn’t notice and wouldn’t ask about it.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”, you noticed his beautiful smile turn into a slight frown. “You’re pouting”.

There’s no way in hell that you are pouting, so you could only look at Yunho with the utmost outraged expression you could muster, but these days, it wasn’t much. That stupid motherfucker knows he makes you smile with a snap of his fingers.

“I’m not”.

“Oh really? So you are not looking like a pouty puppy right now for a reason you don’t want to tell me”.

“I’ll let slide the fact that you just called me puppy, what do you want to order?”, you held up the menu as you tried your hardest to keep yourself together.

He always knows somehow, but never pushes you more than you want to tell him. In his mind, someday you would open up to it, but that’s where he is wrong. You rather die than let your secret off your heart.

“You’re doing that again”, Yunho whined as he pushed the menu in your hands down.

You were surprised just as much as he was. That wasn’t thought through at all. Now, he was the one pouting, and you didn’t want anything else besides kissing it away, but you couldn’t, could you? You were paralyzed by the scene in front of you.

Yunho was mesmerizing without knowing. The way his blonde hair moved ever so slightly by the slow wind coming from the nearby windows, how his eyes would become little lines when he laughed and his ears would turn red as he lowered his head anytime you complement him.

He was so beautiful, and you were so frustrated that he would never think the same of you.

“Excuse me”, that same sweet voice that whispered how cute Yunho was behind you, sounded confident now. She stood beside your table, a nice smile on her face as she focused solely on him.

Fuck me, why does she have to be soo his type too?

Her good girl style matched perfectly with his husband material style. The epitome of the perfect girl for Yunho, which you always knew it wasn’t you. Sometimes you wondered if you just changed a little… then you remembered who you are and how you’d never do that, not even for him.

You wanted to throw yourself off the window as Yunho gave her a perfect polite smile, which was what a nice reasonable person would do, but you stopped caring about reasonable for a long time.

“I was just wondering… are you two on a date right now?”, she barely looked at you while saying that. “I don’t want to bother, if you are”.

“Yes, we are, so you can go back to whisper behind our back”.

It was a tough competition between who was more surprised, Yunho or the girl, yet you remained as calm and collected as you were, staring straight at her. Her smile fell so fast, her demeanor changing as quick as her confidence left her body.

It was a pleasing sight to watch, you couldn’t lie to yourself. Maybe if she wasn’t as dismissive of you, you could feel empathy and regret, but that was far from the case.

Yunho held in the waves of emotions going through him as the girl focused back on him, to confirm what you just said, in hopes maybe he would like her more somehow.

“I think your friends are calling for you”, Yunho said as he looked from the girl to the others behind your table.

She didn’t need another sign to excuse herself.

Yunho never stared at you with this much intensity, he wasn’t smiling. Your own confidence and poker face begin to slip up as you waited for him to say something, anything, even laugh at the scene that just unfolded.

Even if everything goes down hill with Yunho now, she also doesn’t get to be with him.

It’s a selfish thought, but it’s one that brings a tiny bit of comfort to your heart as you heard them all leave the restaurant.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

His question made you want to scream. There was so much you never said, so much you didn’t want to say still, what does he know now? That you’re jealous of him? That you like him? That maybe you’ve been into him for some time? Then he doesn’t know anything at all.

“Why didn’t you tell me that people whispering about us bothered you?”

He wasn’t asking the right question and he knew it. But now you know that he heard it too, that he notices every time it happened too, and still never said anything about it.

Your eyes fell to the menu in your hands. You could barely think, but he was waiting for a real answer.

“It doesn’t”, you heard the scoff leaving his mouth. “It didn’t-”, you correct yourself. “It didn’t, but these people need a lesson to mind their own business, don’t you think?”, you looked up at him again, the walls around you raising again.

“I do”, he leaned on the chair, a smirk growing on his face. “So, we’re dating now?”

“Fine, tease me about this as much as you want”, you smiled to yourself, not a happy one, no, but a content enough smile. “It must be fun for you to have that much attention”, you didn’t want to sound bitter, but you were.

“But I only want your attention”. He didn’t even hesitate to say that. His eyes looking for yours, but you still refused to look him in the eyes. “Hey-”, his hand grabbed yours and held it into his as you let go of the menu. “Don’t you believe me?”

He leaned in, his face tilted to the side as he watched your every move. You felt burning hot with all of his attention on you, specially like this, like your answer, like you, could make his night or ruin it.

“Of course I believe you, but that doesn’t make a difference at the end of the day be-”, you looked up at him.

“Because you act like you don’t like me even if you do”, he interrupted you.

You both went silent, trying to decipher each other’s reactions.

“You only figured that out now?”.

Once again, you caught him off guard. Yunho expected at least a shy smile from you, but he was the one blushing. The thought of you liking him for a long time made his heart flutter.

“Are you going to show me how much you like you me now?”, he wet his lips, catching your attention to it.

That shut you up, and he smiled wide, clearly satisfied with himself.

“Since when did you get that bold?”, you couldn’t resist the urge to smile yourself.

“Oh, you know perfectly who did this to me, don’t even pretend like it wasn’t you”.

You kept the act, even thought you knew it was true. You never let Yunho’s parents dream about it, but you were the bad influence between the two of you since you two met, all of those years ago.

Then, you gestured for him to come closer to you, and he did in such a naive innocence, that almost made you feel bad about the things you said next.

“What about we go to your house, so I show you all the things I still want to do to you, hm?”

You left the restaurant with a clearly embarrassed, distraught and hurried Yunho pulling you to his car. You both didn’t have much time of your lunch break, but that didn’t mean Yunho wouldn’t use every single second of it to his advantage.

[disappointmentofthefam]

Love?Love. (part 4)

Andy Barber x Reader

warnings-kind of a slow, filler chapter, nothing much happens but its important to thee plot ig WHATEVER.

Paralyzed.

Y/n was paralyzed in her place.

"Hello? Please move out of the way," Laurie pushes her way through her, "who even are you?" She grimaces.

Unable to answer the woman with the mountain-sized lump in her throat and the squeezing of her heart, y/n runs out of the house.

Girl grief is ugly. There is no smoking-out-the-balcony-in-just-her-panties or the sexy-dancing-in-her-bedroom-while-planning-revenge. No, the movies had gotten it all wrong.

Girl grief consists of puffy eyes, a bloated face, runny nose, ugly thoughts and very unkind assumptions about one's own self.

you're so stupid, so so so so so stupid!

look at yourself, she cries in front of her bathroom mirror, you're so ugly.

she pinches the extra mass on her stomach, how did you even assume you meant something to him?

She excuses herself from dinner, "im not hungry,mom!" while clutching her chest and sobbing into the pillow.

he had a wife the entire time. Of course he did! He would never ever go for me! Laurie is so skinny, she's porcelain, so perfect. I don't compare! I can't compare to her! she's her and I'm ME.

she lies in her bed awake the entire night, playing those moments with Andy over and over again, trying to find solace in the warm memories.

…………………………………………………………………………….

Back at The Barber's residence

"Laurie?" Andy's eyes widen in surprise and concern for y/n, "What are you doing here? Where's y/n?"

"y/n huh? Is that the name of the girl you were plannin on fucking tonight?" Laurie's voice is filled with malice and contempt.

Andy's fists clench at the way his ex describes y/n, "One,that's none of your business and two, she's not just some girl who I wanted to fuck."

"Jesus, Andrew," Laurie gives him a vicious smile, "You're going to fight with your wife over some dumb piece of ass?"

This fucking did it for Andy, As he lurches forward and grabs her wrist "I dare you, fucking say that again."

Laurie snatches her hand from his tight grasp, "Whatever," she rubs her wrist, "i don't give a fuck about her, I'm here to see my son."

"He's in his fucking room," Andy gives her a sarcastic smile, "and by all means, do not make yourself comfortable in my home." With that he leaves the house, and calls y/n.

His relationship with Laurie was um……….. as diplomatic as it could be, for the sake of their son. He could barely tolerate her presence, especially after she constantly treated him like her own personal trash can, putting him through the worst, over and over again throughout the rough course of their marriage.

And still she just wouldn't go away!

fuck y/n pick up,angel

…………………………………………………………

18 missed calls and 23 (unopened)text messages later, Andy decides he can't risk losing her.

He finds a girl who despite all the horrors of life, shines like a ray of motherfucking sunshine,the only woman Andrew Barber would embarrass himself for. No way he was going to lose her, not without a fight.

So there he is. At her doorstep as he rings the doorbell.

"Yes?" A woman, Y/n's mother, he guesses, opens the door, "Mr. Barber! Welcome, welcome," she extends a warm invitation.

So this is who y/n gets her sweet soul from

"Another time, Mrs. y/l/n," Andy returns a small smile, "is y/n here?"

"Yes, yes, she's up in her room, did you need anything?"

"Yeah….uh….." Think, Andy, think, "yeah I needed her help with uhhh…. she told me that I could borrow this book from her….. it's about uhh….historic politics."

historic politics? that's the best i could come up with? HOW AM I EVEN A LAWYER

Her mother disappears upstairs for a moment, and then returns with a tight lipped and disappointed smile, "I'm sorry but she's feeling a little sick right now, maybe you could come back tomorrow?"

With droopy shoulders,Andy gets into his car, because going to his house was not an option,not until Laurie was out of there.

………………………………………………………………………..

The next morning, Y/n goes to unbelievable lengths to avoid running into Andy. Although she does receive a bouquet of sunflowers, sent anonymously, with a small handwritten letter attached to it:

"Angel, please give me a chance to explain, I promise it's not what it looks like."

that's literally the classic phrase of a cheating man, I'm not falling for it

"Come on,y/n, we both know you deserve better than being someone's mistress,"her best friend had said, "flowers will never change the fact that he has a wife."

y/n even goes as far as to tutor Jacob at her house.

Jacob is a little confused as to why y/n brought him here. " So, what happened with you and dad-"

"Nuh-uh,the only questions i will entertain are about nomenclature."

……………………………………………………………………………..

As the night falls, y/n can't help but get a little curious about Andy.

is he doing okay? who am i kidding,he's probably unaffected.

how could he be so okay?

tears well in her eyes once again.

how could he be so okay while i can't even digest half of a toast without throwing it up!

As curiosity gets the best of her, y/n slowly peeks through the curtains in her room,getting the full view of Andy's bedroom through his unshielded window.

Damn! doesn't this man have a sense of privacy?well,shit, what else could you expect from a two timer, rich,white man.

Suddenly, Andy appears into her view, he's wearing nothing but a towel, lowly hanging from his pelvis.

His hair looked wet, framing his forehead gracefully.

His arms flexed as he took another towel and started drying his hair off.

Fuck you, Andy, you're making it really really hard for my self respect!

………………………………………………………………………….

Over the course of the next five days, y/n continues with her little routine of trying everything in her power to avoid Andy while more and more bouquets pile up in her room with different notes attached every day:

"take your time angel, you know I'll be waiting for you."

"i loved the way your lips felt on mine."

"angel, You're driving me crazy."

and so on.

"Why does she have to be so stubborn?"Andy grimaces as he settles down on the sofa with a beer in his hands.

"Look at you! Andrew Barber, finally at the mercy of romance." Sam, his best friend quips from beside Andy.

A few beers in, Sam's mind sparks with an idea,"I'll throw a party at my house this weekend!"

Andy rolls his eyes, "My love life is literally in the burning pits of hell and you want a party?"

"No, dumbass, I'll invite Y/n too!"

Andy sits up straight,an eager smile on his face, "YES! A party it fucking is then!"

See you soon, angel

[erikahenningsen]

46 fetchen

46. “Dance with me.”

For approximately two minutes after effectively telling Jason to fuck off, Gretchen feels amazing. Powerful. Like she could run a marathon—or at least a 5K—or punch through plywood.

Then the gravity of finally shutting the door on Jason comes crashing down, and she's paralyzed by the fear that she's just kicked to the curb the only person who's ever expressed romantic interest in her. She presses shaking fingers to her lips, debating running after him.

Karen, who seems nothing but thrilled by this development, grabs her arm and looks at her with concern. "What's wrong?" she asks. "You look like you did after we got off the Giant Drop at Six Flags."

"Should I apologize?" Gretchen asks, craning her neck to see where Jason went.

"To who?" Karen frowns. "Jason?"

"Uh-huh," Gretchen says. She finally spots him, drinking punch with Taylor Weddell. Embarrassingly, tears start welling in her eyes. It's been ten minutes, tops. Is she that easy to move on from?

"No," Karen says firmly.

"But—"

"No," Karen repeats, grabbing Gretchen's hands and turning her so they're facing each other. She leans forward, eyes intense. "He's a dick, Gretch. Every time you were with him he made you feel like math homework."

Gretchen stares at her in confusion. "What? Math homework?"

"Yeah," Karen says, like it makes perfect sense. "It always makes me feel like I'm doing something wrong, but I don't know how to fix it. It's not your fault, Gretchen. It's the math."

Gretchen nods in understanding—or, at least, she's pretty sure she understands. All of a sudden, she feels exhausted, but also... relieved. It's like she's been running for forever and someone finally told her she can stop, the increased oxygen to her brain making everything clearer.

If she's honest with herself, Gretchen never really had feelings for Jason. She's never had someone pay attention to her in an explicitly romantic way like Jason did. The being wanted was more attractive than he ever was. And he was a good distraction from her tangled-earbud-wires mess of feelings that rolls around her stomach like a tumbleweed when she looks at Karen.

Gently, Karen cups Gretchen's face, and for one terrifying, amazing second, Gretchen thinks Karen is going to kiss her, but she just brushes the tears that have escaped from under Gretchen's eyes with her thumbs.

"So fuck him," Karen concludes, grabbing Gretchen's hand. "Dance with me. Let's show him how much more fun we have without him."

Karen's hand is warm and soft in Gretchen's, and for a moment under Karen's gaze, she is the only person in this entire gym, maybe in all of the world.

The music switches to a Lil Nas X song and Karen screeches excitedly, not waiting for Gretchen to reply before she drags her onto the dance floor, throwing her arms around Gretchen as she bounces up and down.

Reflexively, Gretchen finds herself grinning. Happy, carefree Karen is her favorite sight in the world, and the way her dress hugs her curves certainly doesn't hurt either. Gretchen feels butterflies in her stomach—the ones she desperately tries to step on whenever she looks at Karen.

"See?" Karen says when Gretchen laughs at her goofy dancing. "We only need each other."

"Yeah," Gretchen agrees, hoping Karen means it in the same way she does.

[azlan-snow]

Broadcast Husbands

Chapter Twenty-Three:

(Told from Charlie’s POV. directly after Vox and Husk leave the Hotel.)

“Alastor? Can you here me?” Nothing. “Crap. Vaggie!”

“Coming!” She shouts through the floor. She Flies down the stairs with great speed, almost stumbling down them entirely.” "Yeah honey?”

“Can you find my Dad? I can’t sense him anywhere.”

“Of course! What’s wrong?”

“Alastor.” I point to his frozen body, showing her what happened.

“Vox and I were talking about Earth with him but Vox snapped when Alastor revealed something about his past that he hadn’t told Vox. It was bad. Vox started glitching out and yelling then Alastor froze. Stopped breathing and everything. He hasn’t moved yet.”

“Got it. I’ll go get your dad and relay the information.”

“Thanks sweetie.” I kiss her head and send her on her way, standing back in front of Alastor. “Please be okay in there.”

“Char-Char! Are you okay?! Are you hurt?”

“No, Dad. It's not me. It's Al.”

“Oh. What happened? Wait. Nevermind. Vaggie already told me. What would you like me to do?”

“I need to wake him up.”

“Just shake him.”

“Not from out here, Dad. In there.” I point at his head. 

“Oh. Well, how do you want to do that?”

“Can you get me in there?”

“Charlie! You’re not actually-”

“I am, Dad. I think it’s the only way.”

“That’s a stupid idea! Do you know how much danger that puts you in!? You could die in there!”

“What? What is he talking about?” Vaggie looks worried. 

“That’s not necessary, Dad. I don’t need you to send my girlfriend into a full blown panic.”

“Panicking is necessary! You don’t understand!”

“Then MAKE ME!” Dad yells, shouting at the top of his lungs. His face returns to normal before turning completely white. Then the room turns pitch black.

“Charlie!” Vaggie calls, voice barely reaching my ears. Then falling. Quickly. I scream in fear, plummeting downwards. But I begin to slow down, coming to a halt gradually. “Charlotte.” 

“Al? Al! Where are you?!” I look around, trying to figure out where the heck he was.

“Charlotte. What are you doing here? It isn’t safe.”

“What do you mean? You brought me here.”

“I did. I felt you in danger. I reacted.”

“From your subconsciously-paralyzed state? Why?”

“I already answered that question: I felt you in danger. You felt fear for a moment, correct?”

“Yes, why?”

“That’s why.”

“You just knew that I was scared and decided to bring me into your brain? Funky.”

“Not really my brain. Dimension. Like the bayou in my room. Separate, but on the same plane of existence.”

“Interesting. Well, then you can answer my question.”

“And what might that be, my dear?”

“What made you so afraid?” Alastor looked offended by my question.

“I fear no one, dear Charlotte.”

“Never said you did. But you froze when Vox started yelling at you for hiding things about your life.”

“Charlotte. I will tell you what I told him: I keep secrets for a reason.”

“You mean like how someone owns your soul? Secrets like that? Does he know about that?”

“Yes. The more important question is how do you?”

“I can see it. Just like my father can.”

“How come he or you haven't said anything?”

“Because it's not our place to intervene.” He looks at me, pondering how to carefully plan out his next steps, I assume. He's always precarious. “Would you like me to free you?” He stops. Looks like I hit the target dead on.

“No. That's too risky. I don't want to bring danger to the Hotel.”

“Who owns your soul, Alastor?”

“No, Charlotte.”

“Answer the question, Alastor.”

“No.”

“Why?” 

“Because it's too risky.”

“I can handle the risk.”

“No, you can't. Lucifer can't either.”

“Who's stronger than the King of Hell?”

“One person. That's all your getting.”

“Fine. Can we go back now? It's really dark in here.”

“Very well.” Alastor snaps his fingers, bringing us back to the Hotel. 

“Charlie!” My father and Vaggie call, running over to me. They hug me tightly, practically crushing me. “Can't…breathe.” They release me, smiling. “Sorry,” they say in unison. 

“It's okay. I forgive you both.” They begin to cry, thanking me for forgiveness.I turn around to  see Alastor, smiling at me, before walking over and hugging me tightly. 

“I’m sorry, Charlotte.” That caught me off guard. Alastor’s not one for touch. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You startled me is all. I wasn’t expecting your power to swoosh me away.”

“You caused the darkness?” Lucifer asks, confused at Al’s sudden appearance.

“Indeed. You scared your daughter, Lucifer. Shame on you.”

“Shame on me? You’re the cause of this, you lanky prick.”

“If you hadn’t yelled at her, I wouldn’t have plunged the room into darkness to pull her out. You’re welcome.”

“You-!”

“Enough! Both of you! You’re acting like children!” I separate the two, making sure they’re far enough apart. “Both of you need to calm down, okay?”

“Yes, my dear,” Alastor replies, a calmer expression lying on his face.

“Of course, Char-Char. Whatever you wish.”

“Thank you. Now, who's hungry?”

[gerec]

Hello, I just want to say thank you so much because you’re one of the main reason I’m back into the Cherik hole again after 8 years :Đ (I’m still having a lovely time here). Also, would you mind if I ask you for some fic recs of 1. Alternative first meeting where Erik and Charles meet/flirt with each other at the bar and 2. Smut fics that included dirty talk about breeding/pregnant kink but no actual mpreg. I know it’s a lot but I hope you could help :Đ Thank you so so much for still being here!

Hello darling Anon! Sorry for the delay; it took a while for me to search for recs based on your criteria! I've got some good ones for their first meeting at a bar, but I was only able to think of/find one fic with dirty talk that didn't include mpreg (the other one is rule 63). Anyway I'm so glad you're giving Cherik another go around it's wonderful to rediscover an old love :D :D :D Hope you enjoy!!!

First Meeting at a bar (there aren't many canon verse fics I know of, but there are many great aus):

In Plain Sight by Lenore

As it happens, Charles does know how it feels to hide who he is. A stranger in a pub sees right through him.

Bloodbound by ikeracity

Finding himself strapped for cash at the start of his senior year, Erik decides to become a donor at TypO, a blood bar where vampires come to drink fresh blood from consenting donors, safely and legally. There, he catches the eye of Charles Xavier, vampire, telepath, professor at Columbia, and quite possibly the most alluring person Erik's ever met. Their first meeting sets into motion a bond much deeper than they can understand, one that neither of them had ever expected.

Hitting If Off by niniblack

Erik meets the perfect guy at the bar. Too bad Mr. Perfect is on a date with someone else...

Twinks, Daddies & Bears. Oh my! by Villain

Charles is fresh back from Oxford and new to the gay scene in New York. On his first night out at the clubs with his best friend Hank, he sees the Big Bad Wolf; otherwise known as Erik Lehnsherr.

Punk Rock Boy by Not_You

Charles goes to a punk gig for an anthropology paper, and things get crazy.

A Telepath Walks Into a Bar by ximeria

Erik hates it when drunk idiots interrupt his flirting.

United We Stand, Divided They Fall by ximeria

The prompt was "the only two people at a bar rooting for the same football team au". And that's more or less what it is.

99 bottles of beer on the wall by orphan_account

It's been years since the accident that paralyzed Charles, leaving him wheelchair-bound and shattering his carefree life of drinking, sex, and loose telepathy. Raven finally guilt's Charles into going to a bar with her, only to have them run into a rather unsavory Mutant and Disability fetishist.

And One For Yourself? (Let Me Take You Home?) by meh_guh

Charles has had it with academia. He's sick of Boston, sick of teaching Bio 101, sick of Nathaniel Essex's guerrilla campaign against his lab time. So of course, the only thing to do is to move back to NYC and open a bar. It'll be a lark.

And Tony's there! Scads of guilt-free, friendly sex is never to be frowned upon.

Of course, the bewitching lunatic behind the bar complicates matters, but Charles is hardly new at seduction. He'll win Erik over in a matter of weeks.

A month at the outside.

Really.

Baby, You're A Hit by mutanitys (chekov)

"How to not make it up to the cute professor you mistakenly punched at a bar" by Erik Lehnsherr.

(Erik still punches the wrong guy, but this time the hospital doesn't seem to be an option.)

-------

Fics with dirty talk about breeding/pregnant kink:

serendipity by intentation

Charles runs into his professor at a sex club. How can he possibly resist?

Perfection by LadyLustful

Charlotte Xavier didn't think she would be into being bred but here she is, getting off on hearing how she's perfect and will give Erik perfect babies.

[eskawrites]

Pause.

Karen Wheeler gets Vecna’d.

She’s been a target since summer of 1985, since a shadow whispered to Billy Hargrove, shut her up, kill her, bring her to me.

And oh, what a target she is. So miserable with her perfect life. Already reaching for the bottle, grasping for any escape, however dangerous it is. Drowning in the guilt that she regrets her choices, regrets her family, regrets her children. Maybe if she didn’t, maybe if she could just be happy with her life, she could be a better mother. And maybe, if she was just a better mother, she could protect her kids from the danger that always seems to lurk in Hawkins.

So Karen starts getting headaches. She attributes it to the stress of sending Mike across the country, of figuring out what to do with Holly during spring break, of worrying about Nancy, wearing her Emerson shirt and standing with one foot out the door already.

It’s easy to forget about it in the chaos of everything happening after the championship game. And it makes sense that everyone else is too distracted to notice that something is wrong.

Meanwhile, the Hawkins gang saves Max and immediately decides to figure out who the next victim will be. They gear up with walkmans and cassettes and scribbled out lists of everyone’s favorite songs. Nancy feels herself pulled in all directions—trying to keep Max safe, putting on a brave face for the rest of the kids, coming up with plans to keep the group moving, worrying about Mike and Will and El and Jonathan half a country away, reconnecting with Steve while trying not to break his heart again, and fighting this increasingly overwhelming draw she feels toward Robin Buckley of all people. It’s too much for one person to deal with, but she’ll never admit that. What choice does she have but to keep going?

Until a police car pulls up at wherever the group is hiding out now, scaring everyone half to death. But the sheriff only asks for Nancy with a weary expression. “Your mother’s been acting strange. I don’t know what’s going on with you kids, or anyone else in this town for that matter, but your father’s no help and she seemed rattled enough we don’t really want to leave her on her own.”

Nancy presses for more information, tries to get details, but she already knows. Before the others piece it together, before Max realizes even, Nancy knows.

God. She doesn’t even know her mother’s favorite song.

They split the party, half of them going with Eddie to hide out at Steve’s house, but Nancy, Max, Robin, and Lucas head back to the Wheeler’s.

Cue trauma and shenanigans from there, like Ted really being no help at all, and Holly not knowing much but knowing that everything is wrong, and Karen barely even looking at Nancy no matter what she says or does. Robin searching the entire house for something that seems like it could be Karen’s favorite song, trying to get answers out of Ted and earning herself a place on his bad side as she does, bumping into Holly and awkwardly trying to make her feel better by asking for her help finding the right song. Max and Lucas hovering awkwardly, but Max refuses to leave because if Vecna strikes maybe she can help, and Lucas refuses to leave because it’s Max, he’s always going to be there for her. The rest of the kids staying in touch with walkies and trying desperately to get a hold of Mike back in California.

And maybe Nancy still has her vision, but this time Vecna taunts her with her mother, the final victim, standing right in front of her and she can’t do anything to help her. And Nancy has known she’s cursed, that she poisons everything she touches, since that stupid party back in 1983, but it has never been so paralyzing as it is right now.

[a-regular-amount-of-spiders]

Request: Dick learns the hard way that even the best intentions can leave the deepest wounds.

Request: Dick learns the hard way that even the best intentions can leave the deepest wounds.Request: Dick learns the hard way that even the best intentions can leave the deepest wounds.

Oooo okay! So I can def see this going a couple ways, primarily branching between;

1: Dick is being wronged (1-4)

2: Dick is doing wrongs (5-9) (kinda)

I had a bunch of different ideas so I whittled them down into drabbles, and I’ll maybe follow up with some longer versions, especially those last few! 🙂

Some are longer than others.

TW: There isn’t anything explicit, but there’s a lot of implied trauma, some injury description, and loads of emotional distress

1: Sometimes Things Change

Dick was always an incredibly tactile person, always seeking out affection from those around him. From the circus, from batman, from the League, and from his teams.

That had changed over the years, touch that once felt pleasant and warm began to burn and sting. The more people that died, the more trusted hands that hurt him, and the more unwanted touches he couldn’t prevent. By the time he hit his mid twenties, he couldn’t stand to be touched when he wasn’t expecting it, and could only enjoy receiving it from select few people. He tolerated it from friends and family when he was feeling iffy, and avoided them all together on bad days. He didn’t quite know how to explain the change, the thousands of things that had changed him when they weren’t looking, and worse all the things that changed while they were. Cass knew, there’s no shot she hadn’t noticed, and Damian had only grown to know him after he’d changed. Anyone else would get concerned if he shied away, ask too much and drive his panic higher and higher as he failed to handle their concern the way they expected him to.

Dick isn’t sure what karmic debt he’d acquired to lead to his current circumstance, but if given the chance he’d seriously consider bearing the consequences of time travel to change it. His current situation being completely paralyzed, laid out on a couch in the titan’s tower and screaming internally for people to stop touching him. He couldn’t even blink, stuck with his eyes closed and unable to brace himself for whatever came next. His head was in Donna’s lap, her fingers in his hair and he hated it so much. On a good day it would have been comforting, except today wasn’t one of his good days. Today was one of his “only leave the house if absolutely necessary” days and he was trying very hard to not let Donna fall into the box of crooning voices that made him want to tear his skin off. Duke had held his hand for awhile, reassuring squeeze making him remember tense lies traded over tight handshakes. He had lost himself to his memories and hour in. As such he was long past able to properly distinguish whose voice he was actually hearing, meaning he was also left with absolutely no means of verifying that he was actually safe. He wished they’d crack his eyes open to check his pupils, so at least he could see for himself that it was Wally whose head was resting on his chest, because Dick had asked him to all the time when they were teenagers. Dick wanted to run, he wanted to cry, but he couldn’t do anything. There were no mind readers in the building at the moment, and he couldn’t move. Even his heart rate stayed steady, beating at a normal rate despite his rising anxiety. The hand on his ankle could have been a shackle. The pervasive body heat was searing instead of pleasantly warm. Damian was on a mission with Bruce, because Dick had thought it’d be a good bonding moment. The worst part of it all was they thought they were helping him. Dick knows because they’d checked, with each other. Had asked Tim if he still liked the constant contact. Tim had said yes, because Dick had made sure that was true during the time he spent with the kid. Tim was so touch starved, and so terrible at asking for affection, and so idiotically self sabotaging sacrificing, that Dick had needed to craft a carefully constructed illusion of someone who always, always wanted a hug. Who would hold on as long as you let him, so Tim would have a good enough reason to allow himself what he needed.

He’d never told the Titan’s, never told Donna or Wally, about the change because they still greeted him with a big hug. A hug that was one of so few things that hadn’t changed after they’d all died and come back, that despite everything had never turned hesitating. A tiny piece of the past that Dick was too afraid of losing.

He’d never told Barbara, or Kori because it’d break their hearts so much worse to know everything. It was so far in their past now, and he couldn’t stand breaking their hearts again. Couldn’t tell Jason, who had scooped him up and held him close to his chest when Dick had gone limp, because Jason already looked at the image in the mirror with so much hate, and so much anger.

Dick had just wanted to protect them. To keep them safe from all the terrible things he knew, but clearly he needed to be more careful because right now he didn’t want them to touch him ever again. They were suffocating him, and he had to try so hard not to hate them for it.

He was halfway to hysterical by the time Raven got back, only sure of it because her magic tugged him away a touch too recklessly. He knocked into the coffee table and tumbled to the floor, cheek pressed into the plush carpet, and there was yelling all around, but finally no one was touching him. He couldn’t curl up in a ball like he wanted to, the panic of being forced still was latent in his pulse, but he wasn’t drowning at least. When he’d calmed himself down enough to tune back into the conversation, Raven’s cool voice was the first he heard.

“Normally I can’t even hear Nightwing’s thoughts, but walking in he may as well have been screaming to not be touched”

He winced internally, because that’s not going to be the easiest thing to brush off, not with ow well Donna knows him, or how curious his siblings can be.

“Does he know it’s us?” Roy, he sounded focused, like this was a case that needed solving.

“He is keenly aware.” Raven responded without hesitation, and Dick would really like to see everyone’s faces so he could know how much damage control was necessary. He felt Raven’s distinct presence hone in on him, an attempt at communication that made his hair raise despite knowing her intentions. He was spared from that entire mess by Tim’s voice.

“I, uh- have the antidote?” There’s a heavy silence, before he hears tentative footsteps, and a needle in his neck. The antidote takes hold slowly, his eyes blinking open, then his fingers twitching, then his heart slamming into his chest as he gasps, crashing back into the couch, taking in the room as best he could. Most of his siblings and half the titans was the audience he had mostly been expecting, but had him flicking rapidly through excuses all the same. There wasn’t much he could say that would fool all of them, so he just had to get the ones that would call him on it-

Which was most of them at the moment going off their expressions.

Shit.

2. Fault (TW: Reference to permanent injury)

It’s not their fault they didn’t know. They didn’t know his history with Raptor, and he hadn’t said anything when they’d agreed to work with him. Most of the other heroes were working with the rogues gallery, the sort of begrudging allyship that only a panetwide threat was capable of spawning. A lot of heroes also had personal connections to their rogues! At least that’s what he kept telling himself, for all the good it did him when he had to look at those golden eyes. That knowing smile wrapped around snide remarks about every personal failing of Dick Grayson, percieved or otherwise.

Of course, Dick had meant well when he hadn’t told anyone throughout the entirety of the planning stage, even when him and Raptor were paired together. He had meant well when he assured Batman it was fine, and when he waved off Tiger’s concerned glance.

Garth had meant well when he’d disappeared into the water, creating a previously unknown advantage, and it was with the best intentions that civilians were prioritized, and inital post-battle checks were delayed. The result of all this lead to a cloth over Dick’s face, and blearily waking up in Raptor’s stalker basement, staring at hundreds of photos of himself.

Had lead to 2 weeks of torture, manipulation, and lectures before he was able to slip his restraints and stumble up to the surface, screaming out for superman. 2 weeks that had him hanging loose in Clark’s arms, looking at Bruce with hollow eyes. 2 weeks that ended in the doctor’s office, with the news that he’d likely never be able to use his hands the same ever again.

3. Break My Shell (TW: mild harassment, his butt is grabbed)

They’d just wanted to get him out and about again. Dick hadn’t dated anyone in almost 4 years, no flings, no crushes, no nothing. He could see that Wally had tried to talk them out of it, had tried to tell them that Dick wouldn’t be interested. This did not stop the gaggle of formal teammates from cajoling him to the semi-nice bar under the pretense of spending time with them. Wally had given him a concerned glance, even when Dick just shrugged. It was Gar who crossed the line, enthusiastic and well meaning, but having never experienced wandering hands as a person. Who later was able to understand, and so apologetic, but in the moment just didn’t know. Gar, who just wanted to see the carefree enthusiasm, the lovesick sweetness, that was always on Nightwing’s face when him and Kori lead the Titans together. Gar tugged him to the dance-floor, ignoring his mild protest. Who looked on with horror as Dick knocked some poor girl clean across the room when she palmed his ass. As Dick stood completely frozen until Wally was in front of him, helping him leave at the fastest pace he was able to. Wally yelled over anyone who questioned him, leaving Dick that roo to completely space out. As soon as the worn wood floor gave way to cracked concrete and the cold night air filled his, Dick threw up, narrowly avoiding his own shoes. He closed his eyes tightly, asking to go home now. He took a long, boiling hot shower, and curled up on the couch with pizza and ice cream, letting Wally field any questions, leaving his phone turned off.

They’d just wanted to bring him out of his shell, but instead he’d retreated back into the furthest corner of it.

4. Sidelined

Okay, yes, fine. He was injured, but that doesn’t make him an invalid. He’d been tortured, sure, but honestly if Alfred hadn’t asked him to very, very intently he could probably be doing very careful patrols right now. He was certainly available for all hands on deck scenarios, and could easily run the comms, or do case work. But it seems like everyone has decided that a little taste of no Nightwing at all was their new favorite, because he was being kept out of literally everything. If he found out about a case, or a mission, than it was only because someone else had slipped up. Which was incredibly frustrating, not to mention it had entered hurtful territory about 2 days in. When he tried to get involved, reactions ranged from avoiding eye contact (Cass), muttered apologies (Duke, Damian), snapping files shut and telling him to go rest (Babs, Bruce, Tim), muttered apologies (Damian), being flipped off (Jason), and the most absurd excuses he’d ever heard (Steph). No one would let him help, no one would talk to him, and worse he’d seen practically none of his family because he lived in a house of fucking workaholics. Bruce had called him out of work without even asking, Jason had done something to all available cars, he’s locked out of the batcave, meaning he can’t even go back to Blüd. These are the reasons he’d give when asked what on earth possessed him to walk his way into central Gotham in the middle of an Arkham escape. He was worried, and not just for his familie’s safety, but frankly his place in the family as a whole. He’d always had an underlying concern that stepping away from Nightwing would mean stepping away from his family entirely, would mean losing them. Afterall, they had never seemed to have any interest in sticking around when they didn’t need something from him, but Nightwing had been all he’d done for so long that at this rate it might be all he has to offer anyone.

This was as good as a confirmation, being shut out from Nightwing at the first mistake, just like it had been with Robin. Everyone gets a second chance, so long as their name isn’t Dick Grayson. Even Damian couldn’t even stand to look at him. He just had to prove that he could still be Nightwing. Had to prove they could still use him, even if he looked broken. He’d held his own fairly well too, managed to direct civilians, take out some minor villains, until manbat’s claws dug into his shoulders and flung him into the side of Wayne tower. He’d only blacked out for a few seconds, more than enough to drop his grapple, to see the fast approaching ground. He barely had time to process the relief of being caught before the red hood was slinging him onto the rooftop, Dick;s injuries singing a terrible chorus, biting out angry words that the haze of pain distorted beyond recognition. Bruce had been the one who brought him back to the cave. Quiet, and angry. Despite his clear fury, he’d been gentle as he helped Dick to sit down for Alfred to check his wounds. Jason tore into the cave, eyes blazing green.

“Want to tell me what the actual fuck you were doing out there Dickhead?” He crosses the cave in just a few steps, his stride fast and long and pissed. Dick didn’t back down, jaw taking on a stubborn set even as he tried to think of the correct answers. The words that would get them to let him stay.

“It was all hands on deck” His voice is more steady than he feels

“All hands on deck doesn’t mean you” Jason snaps back, and Dick flinches despite himself, looking at Bruce to see any disagreement. He correctes his understanding of the situation, he had already lost. Now all he can do is go lick his wounds.

“If you’re going to cut me out Bruce, I’d rather you not wait until I’m healed. Just get it over with” He says softly, clear even through he can’t look them in the eyes now.

“The fuck”

“Richard what are you refering to-”

“Excuse me-”

Everyone spoke all at once except for Batman. Dick pulls his tired gaze up to the cowl-

Excpet there is no cowl, and Bruce looks absolutely stricken.

“You’re not getting cut out chum” Bruce’s face twists, in the way that Dick knows means he’s trying to supress strong feelings.

“Yeah? Then what’s been going on? No one tells me anything now, no one reaches out, no one even talks to me for more than a few minutes-” He starts ranting until Steph cuts him off

“We thought it would help.”

“Help? You thought getting rid of me would help what exactly”

“No- not-” Steph makes a wounded noise, and Alfred steps in.

“Apologies Master Dick, but we believed that preventing you from getting involved in work was the only certain way to ensure you get adequate rest. Clearly we” Alfred clears his throat. “We erred. And for it, almost lost you.”

Dick stares at them, entirely dumbfounded as two things occurred to him.

The first: Wow he needs therapy

The second: No one in this family can communicate for shit

5. Blame

Dick is used to being blamed. Blamed by Bruce, by the city, by his brothers, by the team. He’d internalized it well by now, knowing that no matter how hard he tried to keep everyone safe that something would go wrong and he would be blamed. It would probably even be his fault. He’s the leader, the older brother, the emotional life line of everyone, everywhere, all the time. He doesn’t need anyone to tell him it’s his fault, but lets them since he knows how cathartic it is. How much theyr need someone to blame, it’s his role. He can stand the strain, he can bear this pain, help them with this even if he can’t fix whatever it is that happened.

When something goes wrong on a mission, it’s Nightwing’s fault. So why did everyone freak out when he took the fall for some extraterrestrial crime that Slade had commited. Slade had been working with them for the time, and as such was technically a member of Dick’s team. Kyle had pulled him aside right after, the first of several panicked asides.

“You know they’re going to keep you here right? Off planet, for 2 years. You’ll have to do hard labor-” He explains like Dick hadn’t heard the sentence when he’d recieved it. He hadn’t been convicted yet anyways, so there’s always a chance he can get out of it. Dick let Kyle have his say, but then the rest of his team did the exact same thing. Enough that Dick started tuning them out. Even Jason and Tim expressed their concern, flabbergasted that he would take the fall for a criminal, a criminal most of them had a personal grudges against. Apparently “That’s my job” was not a satisfactory answer, and neither was “A leader has to protect their team, even if they don’t like them”.

He’s not happy, when the last interaction he has with most of his team is an argument. That he leaves to the court room on bad terms with nearly his entire family. He hates that he could see Tim shutting down, and Damian hiding tears he’s never felt comfortable shedding.

He hates even more that that’s the last time he saw them at all.

6. Accidental Abandonment (TW: Major character death)

When he had sent Damian home to live with Bruce, he’d believed he’d been doing what was best for everyone. He hadn’t expected that Damian would run away, run back to the league. He’d thought Damian had been confident in his place with the family. Sure, with Tim disappearing he hadn’t really had a lot of time with his siblings, but he’d been getting on with the girls, and even with Jason.

Dick had expected he’d thrive with Bruce, with his real father. That it was what the kid needed most even though letting go of him was easily the hardest thing he’d ever had to do. He went to Nanda Parbat, ostensibly to hear the kid out and figure out what happened. Really he missed his son, he wanted him home where he could visit. Where he could hold him again.

But Bruce, trying to fix things himself as he always does, hadn’t told Dick immediately. So even though Dick left the moment he’d found out, he had found out a week after Damian left. From a letter left on his bed in the manner, tucked under the pillow. Damian wrote about missing him, about wishing he’d been good enough for Dick to want him, for Dick to keep him. Damian wrote about how he couldn’t bear waiting for another father to get tired of him, and pass him off to the next guardian. Dick cried over that letter, and was in Nanda Parbat less ten hours later. Which turns out to be 3 days after Damian died. His son was dead, his mistake, his best intention, had lead to Damian dying hundreds of miles out of reach. He hadn’t even known, his baby had died all alone. It didn’t even matter what killed him, not now, not yet. Talia held him as they cried together. She hadn’t left the grave her son had been buried in since the ground had been lain over his coffin. Dick isn’t sure how long they were there. Long enough for him to see the sliver of humanity he didn’t know Ra’s possessed, as he brought them food. Brought them tea.

Dick couldn’t stand Bruce. Wouldn’t even tolerate hearing his name, let alone being near him. If he’d know, if Bruce had been a better father-

There were a hundred reasons Dick could blame bruce, but truly? Dick blames himself for trying to to the right thing, and being wrong.

7. Misunderstanding

Tim was in the wind, and Dick was furious. He’d know Tim hadn’t really been hearing him when he’d tried to explain. He’d been talking too fast, trying to get through the mantle change in time to keep Damian from leaving, and he hadn’t been careful with his words. Tim really did have a terrible habit of casting himself in the worst possible light, in such a way that everything said and done to him could only mean that he wasn’t good enough.

He’d been trying to tell Tim that they were equals, that Tim couldn’t be his Robin, because he was more than that. That Dick couldn’t mentor him because they stood upon the same ground, but that clearly hadn’t come across. He knows he had been dismissive when Tim brought up Bruce maybe being alive, which hadn’t been his intention at all either.

There was so much going on, so much that needed done, that finding Bruce couldn’t be Dick’s priority, not with so little to go on. Not with so little certainty. Tim felt scorned, and abandoned, and now Dick was down a brother. And from Tim’s parting words, he’d never regain the trust he’d just lost. Tim would never look at him like a hero, like someone he admired.

Unfortunately, there was too much for Batman to do, so Dick swallowed down his pain, his hurt, and forced his brother to the back of his mind. No use lingering on something gone, he’d have to add it to the pile of things to think about when everything was okay. Which, he knows from experience is a time that never comes, not for him.

8. White Lies

Nightwing lies to keep people safe. He lies for strategy. He lies for the greater good. Everyone knows that, everyone trusts him because they know Nightwing only lies with the best of intentions, they know he only does what he feels is necessary.

This time felt different though. It wasn’t anyone undercover, it wasn’t part of some grand scheme, this time it had been a case of simple overprotectivness. He hadn’t wanted to tell anyone about it because this villain could see any heroes weakness, which meant the more heroes she encountered the more danger they could be in, and not just from her, but from any villain she was in contact with. Admittedly, he could see how it had been egotistical to assume she wouldn’t be able to exploit his own weaknesses just as effectively, shortsighted in thinking that Nightwing being comprimised had happened so many times before that he could easily deal with it now, or that him going after her would keep her from involving other heroes. The bats had come crashing in blind, without crucial information NIghtwing could have provided, and had gotten in Nightwing’s way, and he had gotten in theirs. A poorly co-ordinated mess and an outlaws assist later, Dick sat with his family in the medbay. Accusations flying from all around, it was Damian who’s question struck him hardest:

“Do you think me incapable, Richard?”

“No, Dami. Of course not. You’re-” My robin, my kid, everything Dick feels but never says-

“Then why not rely on me? You always insist that others rely on you, always getting involved even when we do not ask” Damian starts in on him, and Dick would be so proud if he wasn’t the one being lectured. “Why did you not come for help when you were in need? When your foe became too great.” Damian was hurt, and clearly his ego had taken a significant blow.

“I wanted to keep you safe.” Dick said wryly

“Are you fucking serious?” Jason throws his hand up. “After everything, you still don’t trust us?”

“It’s not about trust-“

“The hell it’s not” Jason’s voice cracks, roughshod “you can say it was safety, or your ego, but you lied. Actively led us away from this case. You didn’t think we would make the right choice if we knew!”

“Little wing…” Dick wished Jason was yelling instead of crying, maybe that would make the guilt easier to suppress

“I’m glad you’re alive, but I need you to either trust me, or fuck off.” Jason turns away to leave.

Tim hesitates, but follows, laptop tucked against his chest. Damian doesn’t leave, but won’t look him in the eyes which is almost worse.

He holds Damian’s hand, not seeing Cass leave, but catching the cutting glare Steph hefts him as she leaves. Harper and duke don’t even come in.

Trying to keep them safe did more damage than putting them on the front lines would have, and he hates himself for it.

9. Red handed

Dick supposed it could have gone worse, but not by much. When Batman threatened Arkham, Dick had gone scorched earth before he’d fully considered that he might be able to talk the man down. In his defense, Minhkhoa had not helped in the least, against his defense, working with ghost maker had been a terrible idea.

So here he was, eating a surprisingly good steak across the table from Slade. Slade had been almost eager to take him in, smugly satisfied at the explanation of why.

See, Nightwing had killed the joker, on a rare team up with ghost maker. He had been tired of all the fighting, of the fear that dogged Jason’s every step. It had seemed clear to him that as long as joker lived. Jason could never forgive Bruce. And as long as Jason hadn’t forgiven Bruce, he would never be coming home. So, killing the joker had been entirely reasonable, but Batman never saw reason withe joker involved. The infusing fight had been messy, and minhkhoa had been thrilled. Dick hopes when Bruce calmed down from the initial shock that he wouldn’t say something relationship ruining to Jason. He’s sure he made that point clear.

Honestly Bruce was probably referring more to ghost maker than Nightwing when he’d said “I should throw both of you into Arkham”

Nightwing could forgive him. Even if Batman couldn’t do the same.

He’d lay low with Slade for a bit, and hope that one day he could go home. In the meantime he’d just have to pretend like he didn’t try to wash the blood off his hands every chance he got. Like he didn’t look in the mirror and see red hands, bright and apparently and stealing him away.