#forwards beckon rebound was kind of supposed to be like

[meownotgood]

I was wondering… have you ever thought about writing a machine herald fic, where he still has his organic pp intact? Idk, a lot of nsfw fics with men with mechanically altered bodies tend to have their man parts replaced with a robotic one. My horny ass likes to imagine Viktor who’s ofc done all these mechanical augmentations to himself, but has still kept his original dick, because he hasn’t denied himself sexual pleasure as his (probably) last part of his human side. This of course clashes a lot with his world view and his character, but hey, a girl can dream! Don’t know if this makes any sense but yeah wanted to ask you how you would feel about this. Have a nice day and happy new year, looking forward to your next fic! :)

yes!! thank you for reading my fics :D and okay for me I'm like. half the time I want to see what that mechanical dick can do. but the other half. there's definitely something so intimate about it when most of vik's body he's replaced with mechanics. in my last machine herald fic (forwards beckon rebound) I was attempting to imply he still has that part intact, he's kind of like more human than he is trying to appear in a way

it's definitely something I'd be inclined to write someday. the machine herald fic I'm currently working on probably (don't quote me) won't have any actual sex because in this one vik is implied to be much more mechanical... but... yes, I definitely see your vision anon

[losers-clvb]

rebounded dean winchester x sam's ex-girlfriend!reader

content: mentions of sam cheating on reader in the beginning, sam and dean are estranged brothers, dean gets competitive with sam, smut (grinding, fingering, dirty talk, finger sucking, nipple play, slight mentions of marking, incorrect use of kitchen table, unprotected piv penetration, breeding kink (but no actual breeding, trust, not in this economy!), very very very brief use of "daddy", praise), sam calls during the smut and they answer, fluff

word count: 3.2k

note: this is a part two to "rebound". special thanks to @amourcri3s and @sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth for inspiring this in the comments. here is reader's revenge on toxic!sam.

Surprise, surprise, Sam Winchester broke your heart. Again.

You were sure it couldn’t get worse than this situation.

You had come home from work, already having a shitty day, and all you wanted to do was cuddle up into the arms of your boyfriend. Unfortunately, he already had someone cuddled up into his arms.

Though, it was technically less cuddled up and more him fucking up into her while pornstar-quality moans filled the space.

You don’t know how long you had stood in the doorway, just watching them with watering eyes. When Sam finally looked up, he wasn’t kind enough to look remorseful or even shocked.

“Come join us, baby.” Sam had beckoned to you. You had let out a cry in response, dropping your purse to the floor.

Fast forward a heartbreakingly long 72 hours and you were fumbling with the key to Sam’s own apartment. You knew he was gone. Mason had managed to track him down, finding his location to be in a different state with the same girl he had bouncing on his dick on your couch.

You needed to grab your things and run. You were never getting back together with him, and this, taking back the few possessions that you kept at Sam’s place, would help you fully get away from him.

You took in a breath before stepping inside, quietly closing the door behind you.

“Mmm, you are not my little brother.”

You jumped, a small shriek humming from your throat. What the hell? No one was supposed to be here.

Your eyes flew to the small couch in the corner of the living room space where a man, a very attractive man, sat with a glass of amber liquid in his hand. He smirked at you, tilting his head to the side.

“Who are you?” The hot guy asked. You shivered at the way he growled the last word.

“I’m just gonna go,” you mumbled, wrapping a hand around the door handle.

“You his girlfriend?”

Your fingers tingled with the familiar sensation you got when you were about to cry. Girlfriend. You weren’t, not after everything, but it was still hard to say out loud. You looked over your shoulder at the stranger, lip jutted out.

“Ah,” he sighed, like he knew about all the lies and manipulation just from your sad eyes. “What’d the bitch do?”

You blinked at him. Why did he care so much?

“Who are you?” You asked this time, voice small. He gave you a crooked smile.

“Dean.” When you furrowed your brows in confusion -- how were you supposed to know who Dean was? -- he continued. “Sammy’s big brother.”

“Oh.” Was all that you could say in response.

“He didn’t tell you about me.” Dean stated. He knew the answer.

After Dean caught his ex on her knees with Sam’s dick in her mouth just a week after they’d broken up, his and Sam’s fight had been too much to come back from. Fists flew, words were spat out, and Dean sped off in the Impala before he killed his little brother.

“I guess it slipped his mind while he was balls-deep in Kristy on my couch.” You immediately replied. You didn’t know where the sudden anger came from. Years of repressing it, maybe?

“You got a mouth on ya, sweetheart.” Dean smirked, enjoying every moment of this. He’d come to see Sam, maybe try to piece things back together since they were the only family they both had left. With you standing in front of him in the prettiest lavender dress he’d ever seen, he was quickly switching plans.

It was only fitting Dean sleep with Sam’s ex-girlfriend, just to even things out.

“Sorry.” You cringed at the apology that slipped out on instinct. Sam was always getting you to take the blame for things.

He had a bad day? It was all because you didn’t make his coffee in the morning. He flirted with a waitress? Well, maybe you should’ve given him head in the car before going into the restaurant. Even when he slept with other people, it was somehow your fault for not wanting to sleep with him the week beforehand. And you believed it every single time.

“Nothin’ to be sorry about.” Dean beckoned you over, gesturing with his hand. “C’mere, angel.”

You hesitated. You shouldn’t be here, alone in Sam’s apartment with his older brother, who was making you feel so much better without even trying. You almost turned back around, walked out the door, and left this entire mess behind you. Almost.

Dean’s eyes were locked onto yours while you walked over. Your boots -- the ones Mason bought for you as a “reward for leaving that douche for good” -- made soft thumps on the flooring. You stood in front of him, fidgeting with the hem of your dress.

“You still love him?” Dean finished off the rest of his drink and deposited the glass on the window sill near the couch. You shrugged. Yes was the answer that first popped into your mind until you remembered Sam’s proud grin at getting caught.

“I can help you forget him.” Dean spoke again, throwing his arms up casually on the cushions behind him. You dared to glance down at his spread legs. They looked like they would be nice to sit on. You wondered if he would feel like Sam, if he would be able to make you come like Sam had.

Only one way to find out, you decided.

You sank down into his lap, knees on either side of Dean’s thighs. Your dress rode up, lacy panties pressing against the seam of his jeans. He clutched onto your hips. If you wanted to, you could stand back up, no problem, but the grip still felt possessive, like you were his and he wasn’t ever letting you go.

You liked that.

“You wanna let me kiss you, pretty girl?” Dean asked, grinning at you again.

You swallowed down your hesitancy this time. You needed this. What was that thing Mason had said the last time you broke up with Sam? “The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else”? You were certainly going to take her advice this time.

Cupping his cheeks in your hands, you kissed him. You were thrown off by his hunger as he kissed you back. He was motivated by something, this wasn’t just another lay. You didn’t care to ask. What difference would it make?

You rocked your hips into his, humming when you brushed against his belt buckle.

“Fuck, sweetie,” Dean growled into your skin when he moved to your jaw and neck. You slid your hands down his face, over his chest, onto the growing bulge that was pressing into your heat.

“Please,” you breathed when he bit into the side of your neck, just enough to leave a bruise, his tongue flattening against it to soothe.

“‘Please’ what?” Dean teased. His hands found their way up your bare thighs.

“Please make me forget your brother ever existed.”

Dean ignored the twitch in his cock and instead pressed both of his thumbs onto your clit. The lacy cloth did nothing to cushion the pressure. You moaned, kissing him again.

Your teeth and tongues gnashed against each other. Your shared saliva was spreading across your chins. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered, not when Dean was rubbing circles into you.

The connection only broke to allow space for your dress to pass over your head, then he was right back onto you. You were glad you’d chosen not to wear a bra that day. It was just one less layer between you and Dean.

“Sammy ever fuck you good? He make you see Heaven when you come?” Dean groaned into your mouth, palming at one of your breasts, a thumb still swirling on your clit.

“Mhm…,” you answered, half-moan. You couldn’t lie. It was the one thing Sam was actually good at in your relationship. The man knew how to fuck.

Dean didn’t seem to like that. It was as if you had told him that he wasn’t good at sex purely because his brother was.

“I’m gonna be better.” He growled and pulled your panties to the side. He slipped two fingers into you, making you arch forward into him, whining in pleasure. You had no doubt in your mind he would be better, just from the sheer confidence he held.

“Dean,” you sighed as he moved his fingers skillfully.

“That’s right,” Dean curled them forward, right into that spongy spot that had your spine giving out from holding you up. You were completely draped onto him, not that it slowed his pace. “Remember my name. By the end of the night, it’s the only thing you’re gonna know.”

You held onto his shoulders, soft moans leaving your lips. You muttered his name like it was a sacred chant.

“De… oh, I’m…,” you couldn’t bring yourself to finish the sentence. He knew what you were trying to say. He licked into your mouth, moving his tongue in sync with the way his fingers were pumping and curling.

You came with a moan of his name, just the way he wanted. It wasn’t the last time he’d be inside you. He was never going to get enough of those noises leaving your mouth.

You were still hungry for more. You squeezed his bulge just enough to make him hiss in pleasure. He promptly pushed his fingers into your mouth. You wrapped your lips around them, sucking. The eye contact you held made him groan.

“Sam’s a damn fool. He’s out chasing pussy when he’s got the best one right here.” He kissed onto the length of his digits you didn’t fully reach. This taste of you lingered on his lips as he kissed you, his fingers still in your mouth. He hooked them around the corner of your lips, moving his mouth on you like he was a death row inmate and you were his last meal.

“You’re mine now.” He mumbled, finally dragging out of your mouth, spreading your saliva over your cheek. You panted and watched his hands unbuckle his belt, mouth watering when his fingers slipped the button of his jeans open.

You helped him pull his jeans off, scrambling off of his lap until you were standing there, lace the only thing keeping you from complete nudity.

Dean shifted forward, falling from his sitting position on the couch to his knees in front of you. He shimmied your panties down, letting you hold a hand on his shoulder for balance to fully get them off.

“Gorgeous.” He muttered, pressing a kiss to your clit before standing, hooking an arm under your ass to lift you up with him. Your legs found a home around his waist, hands holding onto his shoulders. He kissed you, holding you close to his chest.

“Kitchen… table…,” you gasped into him. Dean didn’t question this. He carried you to the small kitchen, laying you out on the counter. He kissed down your sternum before latching onto a nipple, sucking until you moaned.

“He ever fuck you here?” He asked, looking up at you from where he was licking a stripe onto the plush of your breast.

“No.” You smirked. You had a few ideas of your own to make Sam pay for his treatment of you, and the spark of competitive edge in Dean’s eyes told you this was the correct choice. This was the exact reason you’d chosen the table.

“Good.” He pushed his boxers down enough to free himself.

“No condom?” You offered. Dean raised an eyebrow at you with a smirk.

“You let him do that?” Everything had to give him an extra thing to hang over Sam’s head.

“No.” You bit your bottom lip. Sam used to try to get you to do it raw constantly. You didn’t want to risk it, pregnancy and STDs, since Sam was so friendly with the neighborhood pussy. This? This was worth any fucking risk, just to see how Sam would react to the knowledge of it.

“Good.” Dean growled. He ran his tip through your slick, loving the way you shivered at the touch. He finally pushed into you, slowly moving in, inch by inch.

You groaned, eyes rolling back when he bottomed out. He gripped onto your hips, pulling out almost completely before snapping back into you.

“So fuckin’ tight.” Dean rocked his hips back and forth. He folded over you, kissing you again. You whined into his mouth.

“Gonna let me come in you? Fill this pussy up until she can’t take anymore?” Dean grunted.

“Yes!” You bit out, voice cracking from the pleasure.

“Yeah,” he chuckled darkly, “‘Uncle Sammy’ has a nice ring to it. Really show him how bad he fucked up when you’re walkin’ around all swollen with my kid.”

You rolled your hips into him, clenching around him at the thought of Dean showing you off in front of Sam.

A chime from near the couch broke you from your thinking. Your phone. You knew it was Sam. It was the ringtone he’d picked out for himself, at your request.

“It’s him.” You breathed. Dean’s hips faltered and you watched a wicked shine flash in his eyes.

“It’d be rude to ignore him.” He pulled out of you, making you involuntary whine in protest. To his credit, he was quick to shuffle through your purse and get back to you.

“Hey, baby.” You heard crackle out from your phone. Crawling back to you again, it seemed. This time you weren’t falling for it. You had better things to do, like moan at the stretch that Dean gave you when he pushed back into you.

“What the-,” Sam started to question, but Dean cut him off.

“Hi-ya, Sammy.” Dean had the widest grin you’d ever seen. You ran your hands up the sides of your body, cupping your breasts as he thrust into you at a steady pace.

“Dean.” Sam grumbled. You could almost see the dark glare in his eyes as he said it. “What the fuck are you doing to her? I wanna speak to my girl.”

“Ah, ah,” Dean tutted, rubbing a thumb onto your clit to make you whine. “She’s a little busy right now.”

“She’s never too busy for me.” Sam sounded far too confident about that fact. Dean snapped his hips into you. A sharp cry left your lips.

“And she’s not yours anymore, Sammy.” Dean growled. He smiled down at you. Your eyes fluttered shut with a sigh.

“You can’t fucking do this, Dean. She’ll never leave me. She loves me too much.” Sam was fumbling for arguments. Dean laughed dryly.

“Let me paint you a picture, Sam. I’ve got her spread out, naked, on your table, tits bouncing. God, I gotta tell you, this pussy was made for me.” Dean leaned down to place another kiss on your lips. You were breathless, both from him moving so effortlessly into you and from his taunting to Sam. He sounded so mean yet so sweet at the same time.

“Whatever,” Sam huffed out, the poison of jealousy stinging through his voice. “Have fun with my sloppy seconds.”

“Mmm, Sammy, she’s not too sloppy yet, but she will be when I come deep inside her. Fuckin’ leave my mark, right, sweetheart.” You babbled out a slurred “yes”, arching your back when he pulled your leg to wrap around him, allowing him to go deeper. “She ever let you do that? Fuck her raw?”

Dean already knew the answer, but it pulled a smirk onto his face when he heard the flex of Sam’s jaw while he spoke.

“She wouldn’t let you do that.” He huffed.

“It was her idea, man.” Dean chuckled. He turned his voice back to you. “You gonna let me do that?”

“Yes.” You gasped.

“Gonna make me a daddy?”

“Yes.”

Dean groaned and threw his head back.

“She-,” Sam sucked in a breath, “she loves me.” He was stuck on that. There was a time when it was true, and all he had to do was say it back in order to get you back. That changed the moment Dean kissed you like he had something to prove.

“Who do you love, pretty girl?” Dean asked you, grasping at your jaw. You opened your eyes, wanting eye contact for the words that were about to leave you.

“You.” You moaned, rolling your hips. “I love you, Dean. Only you.” You were laying it on thick, trying to prove a point. Was it true? You didn’t know. Maybe you loved Dean. You certainly loved the things he was doing to you.

You stuck your tongue out to meet Dean’s fingers halfway when they started to crawl up your chin. He watched as you closed your lips around three of them, sucking, never taking your eyes from his.

“Fuck, Sammy, can’t believe you let her get away. I’m not making the same mistake.”

“You fuckin’ ass-,” Sam growled, getting cut off again.

“Hey, we really gotta let you go. Talk later, ‘kay?” Dean didn’t wait for a response before ending the call, dumping your phone onto the table next to you. You hummed in approval. You hoped Sam was feeling just as shitty as he had made you feel. He deserved so much more than that, but it was a good start.

“Proud of you, angel. You did so fuckin’ well.” Dean grunted, using his newly freed hand to grip onto your hip. It was the last thing to send you over the edge. You clenched around him as you came, an incoherent whine sounding from you. It was muffled with his fingers still in your mouth.

Dean’s jaw dropped in pleasure and he slammed into you, chasing his own high. It didn’t take long before he was pulling out of you with a groan, spilling himself onto your lower stomach. A few drips of release slid down your waist.

You panted, keeping your mouth open to let his fingers fall free. A tired smile grew onto your face when he gently grabbed your bottom lip in his teeth. You closed your lips around his mouth, kissing him.

“Changed your mind?” You asked when he pulled away, looking pointedly to his cum still sitting on your stomach. He gave you a crooked grin.

“Figured I’d take ya out before I knocked you up.” Dean answered, rubbing soothing circles into the muscles of your thighs. You scrunched your eyebrows at him, ignoring the swoop of emotions flooding you at his words.

“Out?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, kissing the top of your bent knee. “Out. I meant it when I said you were mine now.”

The way he said it told you he not only meant it, but he meant it in a different way than Sam ever did. You were Dean’s in the same way he was yours. There would be no Kristy or Stephanie. It was you and only you.

You let him help you sit up and take you to the bathroom, running the shower to clean you both of the sweat and cum.

This was the best way to get over a breakup, you’d decided, especially when it was with the brother of the man who had broken your heart.

everything taglist : @littlesoulshine @sacr1ficialang3l @blossomingorchids @plasticflowersinahistorycemetery @mostlymarvelgirl @missus-ackles @tinas111 @ambiguous-avery

jensen ackles taglist : @arcannaa

[strangesthirdeye]

ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ sᴛᴀʀ ɴᴇᴡ ғʀɪᴇɴᴅ (ɪɴᴇғғᴀʙʟᴇ ʜᴜsʙᴀɴᴅs x ᴛᴏᴅᴅʟᴇʀ ғᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

Summary: Little Star got a new friend.

Warning: IT'S INEFFABLE HUSBANDS! fluff, sweet, pet, Crowley being supportive dad, Aziraphale being Aziraphale. No episode 6 allows.

As usual, I'm sorry if there are any wrong sentences or typos or grammatical mistakes, please forgive me and again English is not my first language, so I try to improve my language and writing in this way.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"and what are you hiding in your shirt, my dear?" Aziraphale raised his eyebrows at you after you entered the bookshop after walking in the park with your Daddy.

Crowley remained silent. You looked up at your Papa with an innocent face. Hands holding something in your shirt in a tight hug.

"Nothing!" you spoke with a sweet smile of hope that Papa Aziraphale did not suspect anything.

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes. "And what did I say about lying?" Aziraphale crossed his arms, mimicking that he was disappointed.

You looked down ashamed. "That's not good" you murmured.

Aziraphale smiles genuinely at you. "That's true. Now," he kneeled in front of you. "What are you hiding in this little shirt of yours?"

"it's-.. uh"

"Star's new friend" Crowley interrupted.

Aziraphale looked at Crowley confused. "new friend? who?"

"Kitty!" you took out the black kitten that was meowing.

Aziraphale was shocked. "Oh dear," he muttered.

You looked at your Papa pleadingly. "Can we keep it, Papa?"

"well.. it's a.. It's kind of cute but i don't think that-"

"oh, come on, Angel! It's just a kitten. Cats are usually lazy around and do nothing. It's not like they're going to damage books here" Crowley exclaimed. His hand petting your head.

Aziraphale hesitated as he watched your pleading face in front of him. He didn't have the courage to say no upon looking at your small face. His daughter.. His little Star that he and Crowley miraculously made. Crowley smirked at him. That damn smirk that Aziraphale fell in love with the first time he met Crowley 6 thousand years ago.

Now he hates that smirk makes his angel's heart beat faster. He doesn't like animals near his books in this bookshop. Not to mention whenever Crowley changed himself into a snake, he always scolded Crowley for not being close to his books. His precious books.

Now that it was you, he couldn't have any strength to protest.

"can we keep it, papa? i- i promise that i will take care of it and not let it near the books here" you pleaded by hugging the kitten tightly. The kitten just looked at Aziraphale with its yellow eyes.

Aziraphale sighed in defeat. "alright, we can keep it as long as it doesn't cause trouble" Aziraphale smiles at your happy face.

You put down the kitten and rushed for was to hug your Papa. "thank you papa!"

Crowley whistled. "That was pretty quick" Crowley muttered. He didn't expect Aziraphale to give in to you so quickly. Let alone let you take care of the kittens at the bookshop. He is still not satisfied that Aziraphale scolded him when he turned into a snake.

But then again, it's you he's thinking about. If he were in Aziraphale's place, surely he would also give in to you. He just couldn't see your upset little face.

"right, I suppose we need to prepare the needs of this kitten" Aziraphale suggested.

"It-"

"It is male, star" Crowley spoke. You looked at your daddy beaming.

"I want to name him, Moon!" you beamed

Aziraphale chuckled. "I think that's a good name. Little star and her moon. Perfect" Aziraphale stroke the kitten's head softly.

Moon sniffed Aziraphale's finger before letting Aziraphale stroke his head. Moon meowed at him. Crowley looked at Moon frowning.

"right, I think we need to go to the pet store.. You know? can't let him defecate here" Crowley looked around the bookshop. The key to the Bentley was clutched in his hand.

Upon hearing that, Aziraphale got up quickly. You looked at Moon excitedly.

"right, well we should go now" Aziraphale took his coat and walked out with you tailing behind him with Moon in your arms.

"Let's go!" you exclaimed. Moon meowed.

Crowley followed you and Aziraphale to the Bentley. Slightly glared at the kitten in your hand. Moon hissed.

Let just say, that Moon scratched Crowley's hand with a warning when Crowley and you first met him. Probably that cat knows that he is a demon? We don't know.

[milliesfishes]

⋆౨ৎThe Sea Is Boundless and So Are We⋆౨ৎ

[fem reader] contains: angst, panic attack pairing: finnick odair x fem reader summary: you have a breakdown and Finnick comforts you author’s note: first Finnick fic! I hope I did it right <3 Pinterest Board Spotify Playlist

Salt spray stung your eyes as you kicked off your sandals, shifting your feet into the grainy sand, warm from a day's worth of the sun's attention. Waves were lapping at the shore, foam left behind like a crown each time the water retreated and rebounded. Sunset shot colors across the sea's reflection like a splayed hand, holding your gaze for a moment before you began the trek forward.

It was a routine you had never set, but you found yourself doing it every night anyways. After the stresses and tensions of the day clawed at your mind, the ocean was the only thing that could ease it. You supposed it was your homeland bound to you, beckoning with open arms. This was where you felt most at ease- you would have buried yourself in the sand and let the water eat at your body if you could.

Tonight, it was different. Tonight, the reason you'd discarded your shoes and went to walk along the jagged shoreline was paramount, worse than any of your miniscule trials from times before. You'd abandoned the envelope on the kitchen counter, flinging the door open before another thought could cross your mind.

Footprints sunk into the sand as you trudged to the water, hoping it would give you some kind of relief, like a life force you merely needed to come back to every once in awhile. Words echoed back and forth across your mind, like objects sliding across the surface of a rocking boat.

From the moment your name had been called at the Reaping, your senses had been heightened, unfortunately including the choking vines of anxiety. It had only worsened in training, climaxed when you were in the arena. Here in the feigned safety of the aftermath, you were dealing with the consequences. You tried to reassure yourself that this kind of news would upset anybody, but it only made you feel worse. This was how the world was. Your tired, stretched-thin mind couldn't seem to get that through.

A shout of your name disturbed your peace, and you tore your eyes from the rolling waves, turning around. The dress you wore tangled around your calves with the gentle breeze, hair following the same path. In the distance you could see a familiar silhouette, lifting a single hand and waving.

You recognized him. Of course you did. Even if his figure was blackened by the shade and buried underwater you would know.

Jogging forward, Finnick slowly but surely made his way over, the sand hindering what would have been swift movements otherwise. He must have come to the door of your home and seen it ajar, guessing the only other place you would be. As he approached, you could see the worry causing the sea blue in his eyes to darken with a storm, his golden hair messy as if he'd run his hands through it. You made no move to reach for him. What was the point if you would be forced to let go sooner than you wanted to?

He grasped at your arms once they were in reach, golden fingers probing at your smooth skin. "Baby...hey...I know it seems bad-"

"Bad?" Your voice was dry and he winced at it just a little. Looking away with some difficulty, you swallowed your tears. "They're sending you back. This is worse than bad."

"I know, I know." Finnick attempted to pull you into him, console you the way he'd done a million times before, but you resisted, lifting your gaze back up to him.

"How many times before they're satisfied?" you whispered, voice edging on a sob. "You're tied to them...they...they'll only keep pulling you back again and again and again."

"It's the Capitol's way," he said firmly, but not with anger. When Finnick got like this, he was steady as the cliffs above, your rock through and through. "Honey...I can't say no."

"Why?" You said it so desperately that he bowed his head briefly. Now you were moving in, tugging at his shirt. "Why do you let them ship you off? Why do you let them make you do such horrible things?"

Finnick's hand found your back, the warmth of his palm pressing into your spine. It was a tactic he'd used all through your training, resuming when you returned from your victory with a mentality worse than death. You were so upset now that you almost didn't want it to work, but of course it did.

He gently brought you into his chest, your cheek against his heart. Finnick held your head there with his other hand, taking in purposefully deep breaths so you'd follow his lead. A salty tear slipped from your eye and he let it soak into his shirt. The action opened the floodgates, and now you were really crying, rivers on your cheeks streaming like rain on a windowpane.

When you choked out an apology, he shook his head, adjusting you in his arms so his body blocked the wind, engulfing you deep into him. "It was your tears or the sea, baby. I'd take the first any day."

You felt your knees buckle as emotion overwhelmed you, feeling like you were drowning. But Finnick caught wind of it, ever your rescuer. He knelt in the sand, never once letting go as he let you cry helplessly into his shoulder.

How many times had you been in this exact position with him? It was a number you hadn't bothered to keep track of, knowing it would happen again and again. Every time you shattered, he gathered up the pieces, setting them back in place and kissing the crooked lines of your scars.

Rubbing your back, he murmured sweet assurances into your hair, holding you tight. He didn't want to let go either, you knew. In all your sorrow you'd forgotten. He was leaving you, but he was leaving you. It hurt him just as much, he cried just as many tears over it, though you knew most didn't make it to your skin, just the pillow in the room he kept at the Capitol. A room he spent as much time in as possible, for it was the only place he wasn't forced to perform in every way.

To everyone there, he was a service. A machine that had but one function. To flirt and be used, to wear the image they thrust on him. It was nothing like the man you knew, the one who kissed you so sweet it made you melt, who made promises bare under bedsheets. He loved you, he loved you, he loved you.

Every time he was summoned, you hoped it would be the last time. But then in a few months, another request was made, and he penned another letter to you, instructions written on the envelope not to open it until he was gone. The words inside would comfort you when he was far from your presence. He hadn't even gotten the chance to tell you in person first this time- you'd flipped through your mail, seen his handwriting and just known.

Finnick loosened his grip on you just a little, pressing a soft kiss into your hair. "It's gonna be okay. You're gonna be okay."

You shook your head, half hoping if you convinced him it wouldn't be okay that he'd stay. But life persisted, you were forced to keep living, and you were deemed fine because you had to be. And after every bout without him, you were left with nothing but the knowledge that you could survive outside his orbit, something you wished wasn't true. Paired with that, dread that another summons would arrive, closer to his return home than the previous one.

Pushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his eyes found yours, searching and soothing. "You'll remember your breathing, okay? Yeah? And I'll be right back here with you before you know it. It'll be like I was never gone." It wouldn't. You both knew that. You both knew an ache would instill the second you parted ways, two souls never meant to be apart.

"Please don't," you whispered, a final hopeless plea. Clinging to his shirt, you squeezed your eyes shut. "Don't go. Just tell them no. Tell them you can't this time."

"Baby, they're gonna hurt you if I don't," he murmured, stroking your hair again. "I'll die before I let them hurt you."

You let out a gasping sob, and he nodded, folding himself around you again. "Shh, I've got you. I've got you." Securing a hand over the top of your head, he whispered, "You're safe. I'm here."

Hand reaching up, you found the shell he wore on a cord around his neck, a smooth, creamy thing you'd found on a lazy day with him walking on the beach. Finnick called it his good luck charm and had shown up the next day with it on a necklace. You'd never seen him without it since.

It was your object of comfort now, as you leaned against his chest and grasped it, rubbing your thumb over the smooth underside. Steadily, you could feel yourself begin to calm down, the storm in your heart quelling to a careful breeze. Suddenly you were back to earth sheathed in Finnick's arms, the only safe place in the world. Your ears stopped ringing, everything caught up and you took in a breath that didn't shake.

"There you go," he murmured, rocking back and forth. "It's okay, baby. It's okay."

It wasn't okay. None of it was. You thought helplessly about how unfair everything had turned out. The two of you had been through the unimaginable and come out the other side. But the story didn't end there. And now the man you loved was a tool in the hands of the same people who continued to torture you long after the last person in the arena was slain.

Finnick rubbed your back gently, his touch an antidote. He kissed your forehead, lips lingering, nose buried in your hairline. "Pretty girl. My pretty girl." His cheek rested on the top of your head. "Sometimes I wonder why you chose me?"

Despite yourself, you breathed a laugh, and he smiled. As if Finnick didn't know how good looking he was. The world reminded him often, but you never saw him light up so much as when you did.

Tenderly holding you, tethering you to him as the rock in your storm, Finnick lightly trailed his lips over your face, as if he were kissing the bright side of the moon. He ended on your mouth, staying there as long as he could. You could have mistaken his eyes for stars, his touch for a sunbeam.

He pulled you in from the treacherous waters in your heart, tucking you into his side as he swam through them himself.

A devotion sealed in kisses, a cradle in his arms.

[collectingsorrows444]

Atlas’s Audio File 02: Vienna

Part Two (part one, part three)

(Operation Ichor AU! By @slumbrr-r! Go check them out :D )

(This is a tale told by Atlas Moss, sibling of Kiran Moss, about Vienna. There will be repeated parts and missing pieces because this is from Atlas’s perspective and their retelling of the story.)

The winter seeped through the ground, and I think I remember hearing one of security running towards me.

The winter

slowed.

The winter was gone,

yes,

but It was still again.

It was lingering.

It was dormant.

It was still.

It was waiting.

I don’t know what It was waiting for.

It killed my brother already.

What more did It want?

I could still hear his heart,

It was fading.

I remember screaming and kicking,

Yelling at the person to let me go

To let me check on my brother

Despite knowing

the winter would come for me too

….

I remember Vienna telling me I could have his shawl from when he retired from the strike teams.

It felt kind of heavy, but the comforting kind,

the fake coins jingling at the ends and the beaded hemming.

I could feel every row of color, he told me that I could.

The coins sounded like jingle bells,

A sound that I’ve grown to associate with joy and cleansing

He sounded so upset, like he gave up.

He gave up his most important piece of clothing to me.

He gave up part of his identity to me.

….

Kiran and I had to bury him.

His body was cold, and winter seemed to die with him.

His heart beating is gone, and has been for those hours.

We buried him with what we could.

I know Kiran knows about the winter now.

Kiran still beats herself up over it.

I remember hearing her cries and her holding me tightly every night,

telling me that she’s sorry for not knowing,

That she should’ve known

That she should’ve taken more time to be with Vienna

That it was her fault for leaving me alone when it occurred

I don’t blame, Kiran.

I don’t blame my sister.

Kiran was busy in the forge that day.

She couldn’t have known.

She doesn’t know until it’s too late,

how was she supposed to know that it was happening?

I feel like I should’ve said something.

I knew the winter was there when he first collapsed.

I should’ve said something—

I should’ve said something about it.

But I was so sure he would make it.

He usually did.

And I now I wear his shawl—

Still smelling like him despite so many washes.

I wear it as a mark of a new start for him

For Kiran.

For all of us.

Vienna.

If you’re truly still here,

like how you said that everyone is,

are you proud of me?

I passed my exams.

I made it into a strike team.

I made some new friends

they’re all so cool

and they understand me

And I got to know some of the older folks

they’re awesome as well.

I figured out my ability,

It’s called ‘Medusa’.

It’s similar to yours

but not as cool sounding as the name ‘Sound Seamstress’.

I’m sorry.

You probably didn’t want me to be in danger.

You probably wanted me to be a part of the research team or medic.

But I want to be just like you,

fighting to protect others.

fighting for a better tomorrow.

I’ll make you proud.

I’ll make you and Kiran proud.

I’ll make you both proud of me.

I promise.

I swear on it.

[END OF AUDIO FILES NAMED: VIENNA]

“Pullin' your face close, wanting the inmost

Show me I'm not afraid of you now

I'm not afraid of you now

Villain and violent, infant and innocent

Baby, both arms cradle you now

Both arms cradle you now”

[ask-postcrash-curly]

Curly, Curly, Curly— it’s Lumi! Here, again! I am so worried about you, stardust. How is everything going? I-I hope it’s going to be okay, I am really worried about all of it. Especially you and her.

Gems alive… I don’t have much to say. I am the really awkward type of kid that gets easily concerned. Y-You will be okay — for Robin, for Ting, for Bug, for the Curlings, Luna— me. It might feel like a lot of pressure, staying alive because of so many people, but I know you will power through.

Hey, you’ve… dealt with worse, right? The crash itself and before we came here, it was lonely. It was worse. At least now, there is hope. And you are not as alone anymore.

Even with the words evading you or not, I still like talking to you. No matter if your answers are short or long. And damned be all those cruel, mean voices. You are a person, they’re getting on your nerves because you are vulnerable. Bite back, try biting or barking back at them.

Violence isn’t the answer sometimes, but life is multiple choice! Bark back at them, don’t let them hurt you even more than you already are.

Cap’n, you’re a good person. Just flawed. I will die on this hill. I’ve made a mistake similar to yours, not to the same extent or gravity, but— my mind is stuck on it. My mind is stuck on a lot of things I regret, so I believe I know the feeling, even if not as bad.

Believing you deserve it… that it is your fault… Curly, it isn’t. As for the fear of being saved… I believe I recognize it slightly? My best guess is that you’ve grown used to it, and you don’t know how to feel beyond this? You’re scared of the future, I believe. I might be completely wrong, but I am still giving my two cents. A part of you wants to be rescued, yet another feels like you don’t… truly deserve it? Survivor’s guilt? Fear of change?

[humming a bit. Eyes closed, glazed over. A faint sigh. The rustling of trees, a sky slowly darkening.]

Just… my two cents, about the subject. I guess I talked a lot today, huh? Tee-hee~ It’s easy to get lost talking to you, in a good way! Also, back to the subject of flowers… I still think sunflowers, yellow roses or general zinnias fit you! Loyalty for sunflowers; gladness, apology, intense emotion, extreme betrayal and Aromanticism for yellow roses; thoughts of friends, endurance, and daily remembrance for zinnias. Pink carnations make me think of Kind Words (a woman’s love; a mother’s love; “I’ll never forget you.”) Sweetpeas symbolize blissful pleasure; goodbyes/departures; friendship; gratitude; “thank you for a lovely time.”

Hehe, flower language is just fun to study. Although I do need more trusty sources beyond Wikipedia, it’s basically that!

https://youtu.be/XoOV_iqHXc8?si=q-AHLyiVTHeHFQKW

Music cue!

https://youtu.be/XQKZ_aIAkJM?si=N-qz_ui1Qxubvlpr

And here, a video I really like a lot. You told me you didn’t really know weirdcore, so— I think this will be a nice way to discover it? I hope so, sugarcube.

[faint sound of yawning from the sleepyhead. They clutch on to their centipede plushie. The humming is “Forwards, Beckon, Rebound” by Adrianne Lenker.]

Well, see ya soon, Cap’n Curly! Love you, you’re a great friend.

- (formerly Lulu) Lumi!

hey lumi... everything feels bad still i guess. im mostly worried for swans. for the others too. god theyve been through so much and i dont know where they are...

mhm... i'll try.

yeah... that... that was worse. least im not there. thought i was going to die back then. was sure of it. didnt mind it either.

mhm. thanks. still hard to... yeah. you know. mhm. thank you so much.

but i dont want to. i dont want to have to be strong to them you know? i want to ask them to stop and have them listen.

...

suppose so... thank you. again.

those sound nice... thank you... damn, yellow roses do a lot.

the art's really nice... i miss the snow

hhh uh this seems. kind of complicated for right now sorry. im kinda lost. seems interesting though...

see you soon, love you

[gallifreyan85]

and from the dark into the light is maybe one of my favourite fics you’ve done with mentor!agatha so far. there aren’t enough words to fully express how it filled my heart and soul with something warm and comforting. 

the description of the sounds in westview is a perfect contrast to when we arrived at the house, in showing that we’re finally able to resurface for air. in scare me up, the silence builds on the weight of the grief by illustrating how numb we’ve become to the outside world. the story spends more time in our mind and memories, because grief traps us in the past. so when we hear the sounds of westview is an awakening, it’s the first step of our healing. 

describing how you want to hold her hand, make sure she’s really there is actually quite similar to what i have written down in some half finished headcanons about the scare me up universe! yes, because it makes sense in the context of the story, but also, to note down how it contrasts well with mentor!agatha in the forwards beckon rebound and the teen!reader fics. with teen!reader, we get to see agatha reluctant to let herself become attached, and learning how to be gentle again. in this one, we’re clinging to agatha because of the fear that she’ll be ripped away from us again, whereas it’s the opposite in forwards beckon rebound. 

seeing señor scratchy reunite with agatha is so sweet, but also digs deeper into the aspects of grief that exist outside our field of view when we’re so immersed in it. the distinct longing to be held by agatha again, paired with the refusal to be jealous of scratchy perfectly encapsulates how isolating grief can be, and the jarring reminder that others are grieving along side you. 

i love how you captured the emotional hesitance from both yourself and agatha now that the moment has calmed down, and  you’re finally out of her grave. agatha glancing to see if you’re looking while she’s greeting scratchy, and you looking away when you comment on you and scratchy missing her? as well as your nerves about giving her the gift. it’s very much agatha’s past shining through, but it’s also an inkling of how her death might’ve affected us. it’s possible that it’s always been part of us, or that agatha’s behaviour has rubbed off on us during our time learning with her, but i like to imagine that it’s part of our grief; your emotional distance from others prevents this kind of grief from happening with anybody else. an anger at the rest of the world, for continuing to pass by, and you stuck in the cycle of day and night, without agatha.

the dust in the house works in so many different ways. part of it is having lived here with her; how are you supposed to exist in a space without her? how do you find your place and navigate the empty silence where she would’ve been? yes it was your home, but it was always your home with agatha. the guilt of not returning hurts my heart too. when grieving, i think we often feel a sense of responsibility towards all that’s left of who we lost, even if it’s not realistically something we can maintain. it’s also very literally the calm after the storm that was the witches road and the salem seven. it’s a beautiful irony, how the dust has settled everywhere else but in your heart. billy and jen get to move on, they got what they needed from the road. but you? you lost agatha.

i can’t emphasize enough how heartbreakingly authentic your description of seeking comfort was. scent often goes unnoticed, and yet it’s also such a crucial component to identity and memory. trying to find the smell of agatha’s perfume hurts so deeply because they’re the tiny shadows of agatha; the reminders of her that were silent until she was gone, and now you’re left with nothing but the silhouette of who your mentor once was.

there’s something specifically touching about agatha asking where you went afterwards. its vague enough for plausible deniability, like agatha could pull herself out of such vulnerability with a snarky remark, but it also burns with a genuine sense of worry for you. i think that as a ghost, she had no way of knowing where you were, and this is her way of reassuring herself that you were taken care of while she wasn’t around. while she’d accepted her death, i don’t think she could forgive herself if grieving her destroyed you.

the mother’s day card, oh,,, my heart. the need to apologize for our vulnerability is so real!! the way you worry about if your feelings are too much and the overthinking of it all?? on both parts? impeccable. i have to try to not cry when i read “just- don’t throw it away please” because it hits so close to home. the talk about not feeling strong, and being held while agatha tells us about her mother makes me think about how all this time, without agatha, we’ve had to try to be strong, and now that she’s back, we’re finally safe to be vulnerable again. 

“I guess I love you too, then. You little menace.” she’s such a mom :’) the little menace title is so dear to me, because i think the playful and caring nature of your dynamic with agatha really shines through. 

this paired so beautifully with scare me up a little bit of love, and i already know ill be reading it again and again. every one of your stories is a love letter to the character of agatha harkness, and to those all those who feel a connection with her. this was such a treat to read. i’m so sorry for how late this review is, i didn’t realize how quickly april flew by. how has it been almost a whole month since you posted it? also, i saw your recent posts, and i’d like to say, happy belated birthday!! i hope you spent the time resting and having fun :3 i think i’ll be back soon to talk more about mentor!agatha <3

-your lovely review anon

Review anon I've missed you!! <3

I'm so glad you liked the part with all the sounds in Westview, something I really really love about writing is trying to get the overall 'vibe' of the scene right, and that often ends up meaning relying on sounds and smells around that setting, those particularly because I feel like sometimes they can do more to trigger a memory than just seeing something/ writing a detailed description of said setting.

I loovee the way you worded 'silhouette of who your mentor once was', I imagined that kind of letting go while writing about what we've done while she was gone, the unseen line of grief and loss being too much for us to make us almost uncaring whether we've crossed it or not into becoming more like her, and then will being like her bring us a scrap of comfort or would she be disappointed because it's something she wouldn't want for us. It's sort of established that we don't have much of family outside of her, so being away while she was gone means we were on our own, and the pain of it all because (more so in the teen reader fics) it started as clinging to her for safety and the fear of ending up alone and ended in the genuine feeling of family and care on both sides.

Her as a mom never fails to make me all warm, I think for her this was her thinking maybe this is it, she's gone and we'll eventually get over her death and move on, but then she's suddenly back, being genuinely, so desperately missed, and given something that makes her see we do think of her like that, and we've never stopped. She might be really scared to let herself feel it (especially after Nicky) but she's getting there.

I know you say you sometimes reread my fics (which makes me giddy to know people like them) and I'd like you to know that I often tend to reread your reviews, and they end up being my motivation to kick start into writing a new fic. I've recently kind of slowed it down a bit even though I've been making headcanons and scenarios in my head, and it's mostly just due to life being chaotic, school stuff (this damn college thingy we have to do till this Friday) and general craziness, but I am definitely still going to post more fics as soon as I get a bit of time to breathe from the assignments. Hopefully soon. I'm really excited to dive back into this world with Agatha cause now that we're sort of on the same page with her on emotional vulnerability there's still a lot that can happen and a longish way to go. We'll see.

Also I apologize for letting this one sit in my inbox for three days, I wanted to properly answer and not make it a fumbled response just to get it out of the way. Thank you (for the happy birthday) and seeing your ask notification really made me grin on Sunday, I saw it first thing in the morning and it really made my day a bit brighter. I can't wait to hear more of your thoughts and headcanons on everything!!!

❤️