#hello void please wave back

[gripes-withthesun]

excerpt from 'there used to be more trees' - a wip

>ko-fi<

[text:

Don't worry. Things look ugly before they heal.

Don't worry

about yellowing bruises

like jaundiced blemishes,

the angry flesh stitching itself together.

Pus is a sign of infection only

because your body fights back. /end ID]

[risingode]

loml (loss of my life)

summary: in which ellie's only ever cried in front of you three times. yet the fourth is the most devastating of them all.

pairing: ellie williams x y/n

genre: angst

wc: 962

please comment or message letting me know your thoughts! it helps motivate me :)

once again inspired by taylor swfit :)

a/n: hello everyone! it has been quite a while since i have uploaded on here. i've had a lot of changes in my life since the last time i posted a writing of mine, primarily, i am now in my third (!!!) year of university. crazy to even think about tbh. anyways, i know i primarily write about jungkook from bts, but recently i was gifted a ps5 by my brother in law and the first game i bought was tlou part 2 remastered because i never quite got over the game, or more specifically, ellie williams lmaooooo. anyways pls enjoy this short little drabble, i am excited to get back into writing! and yes, i will keep writing for jungkook as well, i'm just mixing it up a bit!

Ellie Williams was an enigma to the world, and right now, her mystery is unfurling in the cruelest of ways. The room before you is a tapestry of shattered dreams, clothes scattered like discarded promises, each garment a silent witness to the betrayal unfolding before your eyes.

Your heart, once so full of trust and love, feels like it's disintegrating. A heart-shaped void appears on the floor beneath you, a grotesque reflection of the pain ripping through your chest. There, in the dim light, your fiancée lies entwined with another woman, their bodies a stark betrayal of the vows once promised to you.

It's almost absurd, the way a love that once made you feel invincible can crumble so easily, as if it was all a cruel joke. The sight is so surreal that you question its reality, your mind unable to reconcile the image before you with the life you thought you shared. Your feet are rooted to the ground, as if some invisible force has tethered you to this unbearable truth.

The diamond ring on your finger, once a symbol of unending love, now feels like a shackle, its weight a painful reminder of the promises that were so carelessly broken. You stand there, numb and hollow, the ache in your chest growing more insistent with every breath. 

Her voice is a faint murmur, drowned out by the protective haze your mind has wrapped around you, shielding you from the full weight of her betrayal. The woman who promised to stand by you for the rest of your life is now an almost surreal presence, a distant echo as the reality of the situation sinks in.

They scramble to untangle themselves from the bed—your bed. Clothes are hastily pulled on, and you feel a wave of nausea rise up, the bile surging before you can even hope to stop it. The force of the moment propels you into action, and you sprint through the house, your heart pounding with the realization that every corner holds a painful reminder of the life you built together.

The couch you assembled in your first apartment, the dishes you chose together, each one a piece of your shared dream, perfectly matching the white and royal blue of your kitchen. The kitchen where you cooked meals side by side, dancing to songs from artists you discovered together, 

“This one’s the song I want to walk down the aisle to,” you’d said, stirring the pasta as you both cooked together.

Ellie looked up from where she stood, buttering garlic bread. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you replied, smiling as you watched her. “Do you like it?”

Her eyes twinkled with that familiar warmth as she walked over to you, wrapping her arms around your waist. “I don’t care what song you walk down the aisle to,” her tender voice whispers into your ear, “as long as the person standing at the end of it is me.” 

The air is cold against your hot skin, a reminder of how real everything you just experienced was. You couldn’t seem to care, though, almost prying open the door to your poorly parked car. The silence of it deafening as you give yourself time to catch your breath, finally it was quiet. Still, the sounds of their shared moans and whimpers echoes in your mind. The silence doesn’t last long, a loud thump breaks you out of your dissociated trance. Your neck snaps towards your driver’s side window, Ellie’s tearful face is the sight you’re met with. You think back to all the times you’ve seen her cry before. You conclude it’s three. 

The first time was when she was drunk, confessing her feelings, afraid you didn’t feel the same. You had held her close, whispering reassurances. 

“Oh, Ellie, you’re silly to think I don’t like you too.”

The second was when you were rushed to the hospital after a fall at work. The memory is a blur of bright lights and pain, but Ellie’s tear-streaked face as she clung to you is vivid. 

“You scared me so bad, baby,” she had sobbed into your shoulder.

You had tried to lighten the moment, chuckling despite your discomfort. “I just have a mild concussion. The only thing I’m worried about is how I’m going to step back into that office without a bag over my head. I’m so embarrassed.” 

She pulls away to look at your pouting face, noticing a light purple bruise decorating your pretty eye. She frowns, leaning in to leave a kiss on it. “Shut up, you’re never leaving my side again.”

The third and only time you cried alongside her was the day she proposed, her hand shaking in your grasp as she got down on one knee. 

“You’re the love of my life, Y/N. I don’t care how many years pass, or how many hurdles we come across, I will always be there for you. I can’t imagine loving anyone as much as I love you, baby.” 

You’re choking on your tears, your hand feels almost numb at the tightening of her grip. You reach your empty hand up to your chest, willing your beating heart to still. 

“Will you marry me?” 

Now, in the cold car, you’re confronting the fourth time, a cruel twist of fate that you never anticipated would be this moment. You thought the tears would come on your wedding day, as you exchanged vows to love and cherish each other, for better or for worse. The irony makes you laugh, a broken, hollow sound, as you shift the car into reverse.

Ignoring the pleading sobs muffled by the glass, you drive away, each mile feeling like a mile further from the life you once knew and the promises that were so easily shattered.

[raven-dor]

let me help you

In which george weasley gets the girl

PAIRING: george weasley x ravenclaw!reader, harry potter x PLATONIC!reader, hermione granger x PLATONIC!reader, ron wealey x PLATONIC!reader

WARNINGS: GIVEN LAST NAME, established relationship, blood, angst, banter, love confessions, hero complex (it's harry potter, what did you expect), young love, Umbridge

WORD COUNT: 2,213

Y/N was not at all thrilled about this detention. After all, she had been there when Harry got back from his first detention. 

His hand still had the scar. 

It was horrifying. And it didn't help that Draco, who had been the one to tattle on her, was Umbridge's favorite. It's like trouble kept finding her, no matter how much she tried to be Little Miss Perfect. This year, she determined, was an exception. She didn't have to go down to the toad's office just yet, so she stopped by Gryffindor Tower.

"Hello, Frances!” She waved. “Can you please let me in?"

The Fat Lady squinted her eyes and hummed. "Fine."

The portrait opened up, and Y/N smiled, walking over the discarded red solo cups and confetti. Even though George, Fred, and Harry were banned from the team, they still had a party for their first win. 

She sat on the couch, not even bothering to tell any of her friends she was there. While she loved her own common room, it was nowhere near as warm and comforting as Gryffindor’s was. Ravenclaw did have a fireplace, but it didn't have as comfortable of couches. Or the same aroma. Or the same chocolatey eyes. Or ginger hair. She curled up, leaning on the plush pillow, dozing off, hoping she'd wake up and everything was just a horrible dream, the last week becoming void.

"Hello, Y/N."

She opened her eyes, shielding them from the light. "Harry."

He smiled, sitting beside her. "You alright?"

She sat up, staring at the fire. "I'm stressed, and it's exhausting."

Harry scoffed. "Tell me about it."

"Yeah." She stared back into the fire. 

"Can I ask why you’re here and not… in your own common room?"

She glared, nudging him playfully. "Just wanted to relax before I go into the belly of the beast."

He frowned. "I would go in your place. It's just-"

"It's just that Umbridge would immediately notice that you are not Y/N Monroe."

He laughed. "We look enough alike."

"Not that much, Harry." She stood up. "I'll be back. Don't wait up for me."

"No promises."

She smiled weakly. 

As she walked to the Defense classroom, she made multiple escape plans. Maybe she could run away. Or hide in the passageways forever. Or she could- She looked at the door in front of her and took a deep breath. Best to get it over with and be done with it. She looked at the classroom she had once been excited to enter with complete disdain. Making her way up the stairs to Umbridge’s office, she tried to gather herself, willing herself not to cry in front of that wench. Just like Harry had told her, if she doesn't know that it hurts you, it doesn't feed her ego.

"Hello, Ms. Monroe. Please sit."

Y/N approached the extremely pink desk. She moved to pick up the pen, but Umbridge stopped her.

"I want to tell you, Ms.Monroe, that Mr.Potter is lying about everything. I'm sorry that you've been manipulated, and if you tell me what he's done, I'll make sure that you get past this all unharmed." She leaned forward and put her hand on her forearm. "I’m aware that you are close friends with Mr. Malfoy, and I'm sure he'd be more than happy to help you with any problems you are facing."

Y/N rolled her eyes. "Professor, as much as I appreciate your gracious offer and reminder of my past friendships," she leaned forward, and Umbridge looked eager. "I would rather rot in hell than betray my actual friends. So I'll take your blood quill."

"Seventy-five lines. I must not retaliate."

Y/N had thought about how it would feel before, having your skin cut into, but this was much more excruciating than her imagination. Her eyes were so clouded that she couldn't see in front of her, but she kept going. She would finish all seventy-five lines, and she would walk out of that demon's office with her head held high.

She had walked out of Umbridge's office with her head held high for about a minute before she burst into tears. That was by far the worst experience of her life. Stumbling through the halls, she tried not to be obvious, but with the trickle of blood that was leaving her hand, it was hard to miss. She’d gotten past the moving staircases before anyone crossed her path. The first face she saw made her freeze, hoping that the ground would swallow her whole.

George Weasley was walking directly toward her. She knew that as soon as he saw her, he would know something was wrong. And she would break because that's just what George did to her. She tried to smile at him, but she was too busy forcing herself not to faint. 

Thanks to her excruciating pain, she became delusional from the tears and minor blood loss, walking like a third-year after their first firewhiskey. His strong hands held her shoulders. 

"Are you alright, love? You don't look so good."

She nodded, keeping her head down. "I'm fine, George. I just need to get back to my common room."

"Not so fast. What's-" He paled. "What the bloody hell is wrong with your hand?"

"I scratched it."

"Darling, a scratch does not produce this much blood." He held her hand gently, examining the back. "Who did this?"

"It doesn't matter Georgie. I-"

He looked rather heartbroken and angry at the same time. Her heart clenched; she knew couldn't lie to him. It was really annoying. She sighed and took a deep breath. 

"Umbridge."

He was eerily quiet, still staring at her hand. "I'm going to kill that horrible wicked toad."

"No, you're not."

He scoffed, raising his voice. "Look at what she did to you!"

Y/N tore her hand away, wincing. "You don't understand, George."

"Darling! She is torturing you!"

"Just leave it alone." She shoved past him, trying to walk away.

"I'm telling McGonagall. Or Dumbledore."

She whipped around, glaring. "You're insane!"

He laughed, his whole face covered in disbelief. "I'm insane? I'm insane? This woman-"

She put her hand over her eyes, trying to stop herself from passing out from the pain. "George-"

"This woman is torturing you! And getting away with it!" 

"George."

"And you won't even tell anyone. Merlin, love!" 

"George. You don't get it!" They were both quiet for a moment, their chests heaving from the adrenaline of their yelling match. "I'm sorry. But I can't let her know she's getting to me. Then she wins." She took a deep breath and walked away from him. "Just drop it."

He watched her in shock before snapping out of his trance and following after her. Grabbing her bicep, he twirled her around. "George, seriously-"

He shook his head. "You don't take care of yourself enough, you know. You never have, and you probably never will."

She scoffed like what he was saying wasn't a well-known fact. "What’s your-"

"Just let me speak, Y/N." He took a deep breath. "You've been putting yourself in harm's way since your second year, and it's-” He muttered, laughing to himself. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this. It’s frankly irresponsible." 

Her eyebrows scrunched, and her angry expression was replaced with one of shock. If someone had asked her to look back on what she said in response, she would probably pretend not to remember, when in reality, she was embarrassed for saying something entirely irrelevant.

"You knew who I was?"

George sighed, staring down lovingly at her. "Y/N/N-" He shook his head, trying to get back into the scolding mindset. "Stop distracting me! You're changing the point. You've been putting yourself in harm's way for three, almost four years now, and for a good cause, I can respect that..." He sighed. "But when are you going to start taking care of yourself? Thinking about if this-" He flung his arms about, gesturing to her hand, the castle, the Gryffindor Tower. "-is a good plan?"

She was still stuck in a trance, words failing to leave her. He nodded. "That's what I thought." Pulling her closer, he whispered. "So why don't you let me do the worrying here? Okay? Because I-" Her eyes were full of hope, and he tried to say it again. "You know that I-"

Time seemed to stop as Y/N held her breath. Maybe it was the fact that someone cared more for her well-being than she did, or maybe it was the fact that she had been in love with George Weasley since her third year, but something moved her, and she surged forward, grabbing his face and pulling it down to hers. 

And she kissed him. His worrying over her being too reckless and underreacting to a rather severe problem made her realize she didn't want to avoid the inevitable anymore. 

She let go of his face slowly and looked up, just then realizing that she wasn't one hundred percent sure he loved her- or even at the least loved her back.

George stuttered. "I- you-"

She winced, and she started to spiral into a bout of panic. "Sorry. I didn't even ask. I-"

He grinned widely, pulling her closer. "Just let me take care of you." He put his right hand on her cheek, caressing her face with his thumb. "Please."

His left hand let go of her wrist, and fell to her waist, pulling her as close as humanely possible.  He smiled as he kissed her back. He was scared that this was a dream, that he would stop kissing her, and he would wake up in his bed again, without her. They parted, faces still insanely close. They slowly caught their breaths, her smile so wide her face ached.

"I-" She took her head off of his chest, and looked up at his glowing face. "I love you."

He kissed her again, this time softer and yet just as passionate. "I've been in love with you since you tripped down the stairs."

She giggled, tears still in her eyes. "I love you."

"I love you."

She kissed him again, and he fell into it. "I really love you."

"Good. Because I honestly don't think I could have gone another moment without kissing you. You-" he pecked her lips between each word. "Are most definitely the love of my life.” 

The remaining tears stuck in her eyes fell, laughing in his hold. "You are a dream, Weasley."

"Don't think that I'm going to forget about Umbridge. I’m talking to McGonagall first thing tomorrow."

She smiled up at him. "Whatever you say, love."

He walked her back to Gryffindor Tower, and she snorted, stopping him in his tracks. "I have an idea."

He hummed. "What's that?"

"What if we pull a," she brought her hand up and held her fingers close together, "small prank?"

He smirked. "I knew there was a reason I loved you."

"Haha., What if we don't tell anyone about us..." George looked skeptical. "Until you walk into breakfast, and we act like a couple. To freak them out."

"So you're targeting dear old Ronniekins."

"Obviously."

He looked at her deadpan, clapping slowly. "Amazing, my love! Truly revolutionary." 

She smacked him on the chest. "Oh, shut it."

"Let's do it."

She nodded. "Alright then. The prank begins... now."

Y/N walked towards the portrait but was quickly pulled back. He smirked, leaning down.

"I need one more kiss, just to hold me over until tomorrow."

"I think you'll be mhm-"

She melted into his arms, twirling the short locks by the top of his neck. They pulled apart, and she spoke breathily. "The prank starts now."

She walked into the tower, George following after her. Her face was still puffy, and her eyes were still slightly watery. Hermione gasped, rushing her over to the couch.

"Oh, Y/N."

"Nothing she hasn't already done before."

Ron grumbled. "I still don't understand why we can't tell Dumbledore."

"Tell Dumbledore what?"

She fought the urge to smile, turning towards the familiar voice.

"Oh, nothing."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It isn't nothing. Umbridge had Y/N do lines with a special quill that cuts into your skin."

George's face looked just as it had before, and Y/N realized he wasn't pretending. He was still upset. He walked up to the couch, examining her hand.

"I can't believe she’s getting away with this. I'll be back. I have loads of bandages in case a prank gone wrong.”

He ran to his dorm, and Hermione laughed, nudging her friend. "Just friends. Really?"

The Ravenclaw shrugged, pink dusting her cheeks.

George appeared back in front of them, first aid kit in hand. "This should do the trick after you use the necessary healing spells." He looked at Harry. "You should use some, too. This muggle medicine works wonders."

"Thanks, Georgie."

"No problem, love."

Ron groaned. "Just get a room, you two."

Hermione scolded him. "Ronald, stop it."

Harry smirked. "Yeah, Ronald. Stop it."

"Shut up, Harry."

Harry gestured to Y/N/s hand, smiling sympathetically. "What did she make you write?"

"I must not retaliate."

He grinned, nodding. "Fitting."

"Oh, shut it, Harry."

[sp1cy-t0ss]

Antares

https://archiveofourown.org/works/45534721

The first thing Nightwing hears upon regaining consciousness is ominous chanting. A man’s voice rings out over the rest, ranting about an Eternal King, infinite power, and -- oh boy -- sacrifices. He tunes it out to assess the situation.

He’s in an old warehouse. Robin’s here too, looking even more annoyed than Nightwing feels, and both of them have their hands and ankles bound in rope. His comm is on silent, just as he left it, like an idiot. The ranting man and his followers in matching robes are gathered around a ritual circle in the middle of the floor. Yeah, that tells him all he needs to know. They need to get out, now.

Unfortunately, that’s exactly when the leader finishes his speech and turns to them.

“So,” the man asks with a cruel smile. “Which of you ‘heroes’ will have the honor of bringing our Lord to this plane?” 

“I will.” Robin’s voice is sharp, unyielding. 

The man is obviously surprised to receive an actual answer to his taunt, but obliges. He pulls Robin away without another word.

“What?! No! Robin, you can’t--” Nightwing’s protest is cut off with a punch to the stomach from one of the robed lackeys.

“I have my reasons, Nightwing; it must be me.” Robin’s face reveals nothing, but he gives a subtle hand signal: I have a plan.

Nightwing forces himself to calm down. They’ll get out of this. He just has to trust his Robin. While everyone’s eyes are off him, he quietly works at the amateur knots.

The leader drags Robin into the circle without a fight. He raises a jeweled dagger, intentions clear... 

But Robin is faster. He bites his own wrist, hard, and spits his blood into the circle. The runes light up in terrible Lazarus green, and Robin pushes himself upright with a malicious grin.

The lead cultist scrambles back from the circle and into a deep bow. The chanting stops as his minions follow suit. Robin continues to look far too smug for his situation. Nightwing feels a headache coming on somewhere under his renewed panic.

This is his plan?! 

There’s a blinding flash of light. When the spots clear from Nightwing’s vision, the Eternal King is floating in the circle, mere feet from the bound Robin.

The Eternal King isn’t quite the grotesque horror he expected. Their body is a glittering black void, a sleek humanoid shadow with misty white hair and bright, bright eyes of toxic green. A cold fog rolls off of their body in waves.

“Antares,” the shadow rumbles, and Nightwing feels static thrum in his bones with the sound. The room is painfully cold, but the King doesn’t seem aggressive yet. Maybe they really can bargain their way out of this mess.

Robin doesn’t flinch. He looks the Eternal King right in the eyes, utterly fearless, and smirks. “Hello, Beloved.”

What?

The King stares silently, floating closer. For a long moment, no one moves. No one speaks.

“My lord, does the sacrifice please you?” The ringleader cuts in, standing up with a greedy gleam in his eyes. 

Something in the air changes as the King turns toward the man. Something cold, electric, heavy under the skin. Nightwing suppresses a shiver as he works through the last of the rope.

“You d̵̢̛a̵̼̽ṙ̴͎e̵͙̐.”

The leader pales and falls to his knees. “My Lord, if this offering is insufficient, we have another--”

The King s̴̱̖̺̺̓͊̕̕ć̵͇͇͔̈r̴̥͐e̸̥̬͌̂̌̊a̴̭̔̓̀̔͘m̵̯͑̋͌͠s̵̗̤̻̭̍̿, a furious howl that blurs Nightwing’s vision and claws his ears. The sound is everywhere, driving him to his knees. Growing shadows seem to absorb his little brother just as Nightwing realizes he’s blacking out. 

They’re falling, they’re falling someone help they’re screaming he’s screaming make it stop dead on impact blood and bones make it stop make it STOP--

When he comes back to himself, it’s quiet. Nightwing blinks tears from his eyes, gasping for frigid air that pierces his lungs like knives. The floor outside the circle is covered in blood splatter. The cultists have all been struck down, and many aren’t moving. 

But he’s not looking at them.

Because the monster is coiled around Robin like a snake, eyes burning as it surveys the room. Robin seems unharmed for now, but he has to get his baby brother away from that thing.

He steps forward, and those endless green eyes lock onto him. It snarls at his approach, revealing multiple rows of teeth. Claws subtly tighten on Robin’s shoulders. Nightwing sinks into a combat stance, and the creature braces itself to leap.

Pure, animal instinct screams that Nightwing won’t survive this fight.. It doesn’t matter. He’ll give his all like he always has, and Robin can escape. The others will find a way to take it down. He just has to buy time.

“Dove, it’s alright.”

To Nightwing’s amazement, the creature freezes. It turns to look at Robin, warbling in apparent confusion before turning back to Nightwing with a hiss.

Robin grabs its face in both hands and forces it to look at him. “No. That’s Nightwing, remember? He will not harm us. I am safe. We are safe.” His voice is steady, soothing as he gently presses their foreheads together. A spark of awareness slowly returns to ‘Dove’s’ eyes.

“Come back to me.”

The monster sags in Robin’s grip, slowly folding in on itself until a nearly-human teen with snowy white hair is left floating gently in its place.

Robin smiles, gentle and shockingly warm. “There you are.”

‘Dove’ is shaking. Their eyes are locked on Robin, as though he’s the only thing in their universe. “Antares,” they breathe, before wrapping Robin in a tight hug.

Robin briefly looks to Dick, gesturing toward the cultists. He then returns his attention to the distraught being, resting his chin on their head and both hands on their back. The obvious dismissal makes Nightwing uneasy, but the kid has a point. They'll just have to check him for hypnosis or mind control back at the Cave.

Now that Nightwing is actually looking at the cultists, their injuries are horrific. Deep lacerations, stab wounds, frostbite, severed limbs...none of them seem likely to die with medical treatment, but every last one is maimed. 

The ringleader is worst of all. His eyes are gouged out, and his hands ripped off and cauterized by the same unearthly frost that burns scattered marks into his skin. An unfamiliar symbol has been clawed into his chest. 

Nightwing looks back to the circle, where Dove is quietly sobbing. Their face is tucked securely into Robin’s neck, and Nightwing hears whispers of I was scared and can’t lose you too.  

This is the same person?

By the time the cultists are all secured and the police have been called, Dove seems to have calmed down. Time to play the diplomat. Again. 

Damn, maybe Steph has a point about Eldest Daughter Syndrome.

“I, uh, hate to interrupt, but we should probably get out of here, yeah? GCPD will be here in a couple minutes,” he proposes with a friendly smile.

Dove wipes their eyes. “Right.” Then they look around the room and wince. “Uhm, sorry you? Had to see that? I...panicked. You’re okay though, right? Not hurt or anything?” The question is disarmingly earnest, and there’s nothing but concern in their eyes. Hm.

“Nah, not a scratch,” Nightwing dismisses. Then he remembers he’s apparently talking to a king. “Thank you for saving Robin, Your Highness,” he adds with a bow of his head. 

“Nuh-uh, no titles. Gross.” The King makes a face, then smiles with renewed cheer. “Call me Phantom. He/him, ghost, and general pain in the ass, at your service!” He floats higher and punctuates his announcement with a midair flip. “You might as well know, since we’re gonna be seeing each other a lot now.”

Crap. “I’m afraid I don’t follow,” Nightwing ventures.

‘Phantom’ exchanges a meaningful look with Robin. Nightwing barely has time to register the mischief on both their faces before Robin pulls the being down into a kiss. 

A deep kiss now. Really deep. Yeah, they’ve definitely forgotten he’s here.

When they finally separate, Robin looks quite satisfied. Phantom, however, sticks out a forked tongue and scrunches his face. “Blech, blood. What did you...” His eyes land on Robin’s still-bloody wrist, then the droplets still in the circle. 

“You didn’t.” A grin creeps across his face. “You have me on soul speed dial and you still hijacked a whole-ass summoning!”

“Tt. I was making a point.” Robin crosses his arms.

Phantom cackles. “You are literally the most dramatic person I’ve ever met!” he crows.

Robin raises an eyebrow and gestures to the warehouse full of mangled cultists. Phantom opens his mouth to retort, but it’s at this point that Nightwing finally manages to pull his jaw off the floor and speak. 

“Robin,” he says with deliberate calm. “What the fuck.”

And then they hear police sirens. Fantastic.

“Crap. Don’t worry, I got it!” Phantom declares as he rips a green hole in existence. Robin is unfazed, which is rapidly getting less and less surprising.

A woman in the corner stirs. Phantom makes a ‘one moment’ gesture before he stalks over and yanks her forward with a growl. “You’ve kept your tongue for a reason. Spread the word: Robin is mine.” (Robin stands taller, obviously pleased by that extremely concerning statement.)  The woman nods frantically, and Phantom drops her to the ground. 

Without further preamble, Phantom zips back over and shoves both vigilantes through the rip.

Just like that, they’re all in Damian’s bedroom. The two boys immediately sit together on the edge of the bed, while Dick remains standing. Dick doesn’t even know where to begin, so he can only give a helpless ‘why’ sort of gesture. Thankfully, Damian seems to take pity on him.

“Richard, this insufferable fool is my Beloved. His name is Danny, and he is seventeen.” Then he smirks. “You may refer to him as High King Phantom of the Infinite Realms; The Tyrant’s Bane, True Balance, Son Of Stars, Pride of Time, Death’s Chosen--”

The ghost groans dramatically, flopping across Damian’s lap like a wet noodle. “Oh my gawd, Dames, why would you tell him that?”

"It is very important that Richard recognizes your position and authority.” Damian says, not even trying to sound convincing.

Danny reaches up and pushes at Damian’s face. It brings to mind a pair of cats, especially with Damian doing his best to look annoyed instead of fond. “Betrayal! I want a divorce!”

That’s the last straw. Dick chokes on his own spit and has to thump his chest a few times to breathe right again. With monumental effort, he manages to wheeze out a strangled “Are you MaRriEd?!”

Danny tries to sputter out a reply, but Dick is distracted by Damian laughing. It’s a low, light sound, with no attempt made to disguise it. 

“Of course not,” Damian says. He cards a hand through Danny’s hair, the other boy sighing contently and looking up at him with adoring neon eyes. “We've only courted for seven months now. It will be another three years before we wed.” 

Dick is just. Gonna ignore that last bit. For his own sanity. “Wait, how did you keep a whole boyfriend secret for seven months? In this family?” 

“Bribery.” “Threats.”

Yeah, that sounds about right. Babs and Duke probably know then.

“Cool, good to know. One more question.” Well, more like a billion, but he may as well start with an icebreaker before the inevitable interrogation. Besides, it’s a big brother's duty to embarrass his siblings. “Why Dove?”

Damian says nothing, but his deep blush is almost audible.

“Because I’m cute and fluffy!” Danny chirps.

“Hardly,” Damian scoffs. “It’s because you are raucously annoying and constantly crash into windows.”

Literally everything about this situation is baffling, but Danny looks so offended that Dick can’t help but laugh.

“You lying asshole!” Danny screeches.

Damian turns to Dick. “He attempted to use a grapple three times and broke eleven windows; four of them with his face. I have videos.” Danny gasps, the two start bickering, and Dick is left to his thoughts once more. 

Even as the pair separate to point fingers and trade increasingly creative insults, their body language is completely relaxed. As much as Dick is panicking about a powerful undead monarch around their family, Damian is happy. He has been for months, now that Dick thinks about it. He’s been loosening up a little, leaving the manor more, and even mentioning a few new friends (though he refuses to use the word.)

Whoever or whatever Danny is, he’s been good for him.

“Well,” Dick cuts in, interrupting an inventive declaration about overripe cheese. “We’ll obviously need to talk about this. But for what it’s worth,” he smiles. “I’m happy for you, Baby Bat.” 

With that said, Dick walks out of the bedroom. Danny gives him a grateful smile, and a quiet thank you, Richard can be heard as he closes the door behind him.

Dick walks away at a leisurely pace until he reaches the end of the hallway, where he promptly breaks into a sprint toward the Cave. Checking the Batcomputer to make sure Damian hasn’t noticed the planted bug yet, he turns on his comms. Unsurprisingly, the entire family is yelling and demanding answers.

Well, at least he won’t be the only one having a heart attack tonight.

[swashbuckling-sweethearts]

MOTHMEN ARE BACK!

and they're holding hands, all six of them 🥰

(please go read Wave Hello to the Void ty 🤩)

[thatwritterbeach]

Hugs and soul string tugs .1

dc masterlist

Dick grayson x reader Jason Todd x reader

Summary: soulmate au, Jason dies and reader's soul latches onto Dick for comfort bring your tissues, not my usual writing style

warnings: blood, conon typ' violence, rejection, soul sickness (soulmates au ) angst, hurt little comfort, Jason dies but he comes back, fever, Jason being an ass Dick being a softy

A/N: I do not own dc this is short, might become a series might stay a drabble lmk what ya think

She didn't know how she ended up in Gotham, she'd just hopped a bus to get away, get out from under her parent's thumb. It wasn't a nice place, she should have paid closer attention to the glowing red sign stating the location. There was a slight tug on her soul, that ever present tightness when you go without your soulmate, and she hadn't even found them yet. Surely they must be here though by the way her heart started to sing. She stopped off the bus readjusting her backpack and gazed up just in time to see batman and Robin fly. Her soul ached to the point of tears. She ran and ran, trying to catch the duo, surely he could feel it, surely this all consuming love and hope wasn't just on her end but he kept getting away. He was running from her, and the clear rejection sent a knife through her heart and she let out a scream, dropping to her knees in pain. The small string that had been tight her entire life fell slack. Loose inside her like he'd let go of his end.

He didn't come back.

The pain didn't die down, never so much as eased. She wondered the streets of Gotham, alone and in pain begging for her soulmate. Crying into the void for him to just pull back on his end, please just tighten the string, he didn't need to pull it closer, just get rid of the slack between them.

He ignored her.

So she dug, and dug until she found the name Dick Grayson and an apartment number in bludhaven. It took two days to work up the nerve to knock on his door.

"Hello," he asked, with wary eyes. She knew what she looked like.

"Your brother is my soulmate and he dropped the bond and I think I might die without him." He just stared at her.

"Please," she added. He stepped aside to let her in and busied himself making tea for them both. She sat on the ground to avoid dirtying his couch. He sat on the floor with her.

"He's mia at the moment sorry." And he was, she could feel it coming off of him in waves.

"That's ok, I've made it this long." The tea fell to the floor when she felt the string tug, tighter and tighter in her chest until it snapped. And she screamed. Screamed and thrashed and cursed. She was faintly aware of arms around her but they weren't his, they would never be his. He was dead, she could feel it. The pain radiating through her entire body like an explosion. She screamed until her throat no longer worked, until her eyes started to close and her body gave up against the pain.

"He's gone," she whispered before giving in and letting the darkness embrace her. Dick rocked her back and forth until his own tears stopped.

Bruce didn't call. Dick was floored. A teammate gave their condolences.

Its rare, so rare in fact its considered legend that if a bond is broken in death a new one can from between the living and someone close to the deceased.

The snapped string hung around her heart like an anchor. A new one formed a loose knot and she latched onto it like a vice. Sobbing in agony over the loss and gain.

Dick was shocked when he felt the pull. The crying girl (because she was years younger than him, the age of his brother he assumed) seemed to glow and the string around his own heart yanked as she pulled on it desperate for connection, she pulled and pulled while he resisted. Finally she relented and the string stayed taut before falling slack. A second rejection would kill her, so he scooped up the string and did some yanking of his own. Dick had never felt a soulmate, he assumed he just wasn't close enough to meeting them to ever feel the pull. But now he understood. His job was to keep her alive. The bond felt odd once it settled into place. He felt warm and content even through his grief.

He called Alfred a week later to ask about coming home. He couldn't get her to eat, he didn't trust her to be alone.

Alfred said no.

Six months after Jason's death she woke up screaming. Nightmares ever since. She won't talk to him about them.

A scrawny kid came to his door demanding he become Robin again, he felt the bond inside him ache.

Tim was a great Robin.

Dick was proud of the kid, he went to Gotham when he could desperate to do it right this time.

Bruce refused to meet his bonded she said it was fine.

He visited less as her pain grew. Even going to work he could feel her clawing at the string, terrified it would disappear too. He would tug back, he would always tug back. Then he would text her and ask if he needed to come home. She always said no.

The red hood hurt Tim. His bonded was waking up screaming each night. He took her to manner, he and Bruce had gotten on better terms. Bruce seemed to like the girl, she was twenty now, to Dick's twenty-seven. Against his better judgement over the last year he's fallen in love with her. She knows, she can feel it through the bond, she replies with hesitant love, he can accept that.

Jason Todd is alive. His brother and the original soul mate of his bonded is alive and seething in front of them. Y/n was shaking, silent tears running down her face and the string inside him burned from her insistent tugging. He tried to tug back but she wasn't paying attention to him.

"Why the fuck are you holding my soulmate." Jason was tied up in the cave riding out pit madness when Dick and y/n had gone down to see what all the commotion was. Bruce and Tim stood off to the side, Tim still in a few casts but walking with a crutch.

"You died," she said softly pulling away from Dick and slowly making her way to him.

"Yeah, and you're fucking my brother."

"Don't talk to her like that," Dick seethed yanking her back to him and behind him.

"I'm not," she squeaked.

"I can feel you panicking, the string..." Jay trailed off, he wasn't used to the feelings being so strong from proximity. He's been able to stay far enough away it only ached, this felt worse than the pit. His skin burned to touch hers, his entire being was raw with need. He could faintly, like a whisper, feel his brother mixed into the bond. His claim over her clear even through Jason's green filled mind, his soulmate wasn't his. And didn't that hurt like a bitch.

"You died. I tried to find you and you ran away and then you died. I would have died without your brother," she begged him to understand but the words meant less coming from behind the protection of said brother.

"How long have you two been a thing?"

"That's none of your-"

"We've been romantic for less than a year but bonded since the night you died," she filled him in ignoring Dick's protest. She owed him the truth even if he had stayed away for so long.

"So you didn't feel me claw out of my grave," he accused with venom.

"I thought it was phantom. I-I looked I swear I did. I dug up your grave by hand, it was untouched...the coffin," she paused to fight the bile in her throat," the coffin had a body in it. I'm sorry I didn't get it dna tested." She couldn't deal with this, even now she could feel him letting go of the string, rejecting her. Dick's pull only became tighter and she fell back onto his familiar strength.

"Jason, why didn't you come to her," Bruce asked. He couldn't fathom staying away from Selena.

"Don't you people get it? I'm a monster!"

"And why not before! I followed you as Robin, chased you endlessly through the streets, screaming in agony over you and you fucking left me there! You let go of the bond not me, fuck you!"

"Did it ever occur to you I did you a favor. Did it hurt when I died?"

"How fucking dare you," she screamed storming over to him and taking his head up by his hair to glare into his green haze of eyes.

"Imagine how it would have felt if we'd been together, I saved you needless pain-"

"That's not fair, I felt everything damn you, every hit, cracked bone, broken skin, beaten flesh, I fucking burned when the bomb went off, so don't you think for one second that it made it better!"

"I didn't know that," he conceded, unable to drop his head in shame from her grip on his hair.

"You died, and you left me. You came back and you still left me. My soul couldn't take it, when you died, it clung to Dick's and his clung back. He is mine and I am his. There's no changing that but dammit Jason I can fucking feel you letting go of me again. I almost didn't survive it the first time, it fucking hurts don't you get that." She was shaking him now, both hands on his shoulders and willing the sense to get knocked into him.

He tugged on the string. She tugged back. And faintly they both felt Dick tug on his.

"I gotta share you don't I," Jason said quietly.

"You didn't even want me. You hurt me beyond words. Either share me or fuck off. I can't take it again."

Dick didn't wanna share, he wanted to wrap her into his heart and never let her leave, but after finally getting Jason back he couldn't do that to her. He was the third wheel, he came second, he knew that but when she turned to look at him, nothing but love in her eyes, he didn't care.

___

It was awkward, sharing a room and a girlfriend with his brother. But Dick was already a touchy feely person and he'd been smothering Y/n in affection for years, there was no way the bond would let them go too long without physical contact. Oddly enough the bond between he and Jason craved nearly the same. His brother would hug him at random then look annoyed with himself, he would go to grab Y/n then backtrack like he wasn't allowed. Y/n of course noticed and would drag them both to the nearest couch, shove them down onto it and lay across them both until the bond was satisfied.

Dick had to go back to bludhaven to tie up some loose ends. You know like quitting his job. The second he was in the car headed to the train he felt it, the little tug on his string, he tugged back, and received two text messages wishing him well, and telling him to hurry up. The first day was tolerable, sucky but ok. The second he woke up with a fever and a quick call confirmed both his bonds in the same state. Day three he felt and looked like death. The near constant tugging on his string when he was trying to eat lunch forced him to excuse himself to make a call.

"It hurts," Y/n wailed through the line, not so much as a hello.

"I know baby. But you've got Jay and-"

"No! s'not the same, please I can't-" she cut herself off with a sob and the string in his heart was pulled so tight he nearly had a heart attack.

"Baby, where's Jay, go sit with him it'll make it better." Like he felt any better, he didn't have anyone to ease the ache.

"He's not here. I can't-Dick please, it hurts!" She kept pulling on the string tapping out freaking Morse code for sos and he couldn't take her anguish anymore.

"Give me an hour." He marched into his bosses office, and quit, screw his two weeks. He didn't even stop at his apartment for his bag, he was on a train and tugging quick 'i love you's' into the string. Jason was getting punched. The hell did he go, he knew she needed care. Her side of the bond had always been stronger, which he found odd since he himself was emotional but whatever he was feeling she got twice or three times as much so if the headache behind his eyes was anything to go by she was going through an agonizing migraine. To be fair they hadn't gone longer than 24 hours without touching each other since Jason died, even when he was patrolling he would always have to swing by to ease the ache in his chest a few times throughout the night. She was used to not feeling Jay, but she couldn't handle not feeling him.

The manor was empty, eerily so, but he didn't have time to dwell the string was still tugging, but it was coming farther and farther apart like she didn't have the energy anymore. He took the steps three at a time, curse long legged people, and made it to their shared room in under a minuted. No y/n.

"Y/n," he called though the halls, tugging at the string in worry.

Your room-Honeypumpkin

He frowned at that but hurried down the hall to his old room. She was laying on top of his blankets, in a pair of his boxers and Jay's shirt practically sweating through the mattress.

"Shit baby," he muttered placing his hand on her forehead. She was beyond burning up. She made a low keening sound at the contact but the fever stayed. He shucked out of his work clothes and curled himself around her. His soul buzzing in joy at the contact. She smiled at him and he was a gentle 'thankyou' tug on the string. she went to sleep and he texted Alfred wondering where the hell Jason was. Out. Is what the butler replied, and Dick had known him long enough to know that one word held more disappointment than imaginable.

At some point he fell asleep, and was woken up by a gentle but firm hand on his shoulder.

"Master Dick, I have brought some supplies."

"Thanks, Alf, she still have a fever?"

He hhmed and stuck a thermometer in her mouth, disturbingly she didn't budge.

"104, we need to get her in an ice bath I'm afraid."

"We need Jason to not be a piece of shit and leave her like this," he seethed standing up to scoop her into his arms.

"I'm afraid they had a fight and Master Todd stormed off," Alfred supplied, leading the way to the cave, where there was medical supplies more equipped. Though nothing could stop soul sickness but the touch of the one who hurt you, isn't that great.

"So he hurt her, again. If I didn't know it would mess her up I'd kill him again." They were quick but not urgent in their treatment, Dick cursed the air black and blue as he lowered them both in a tub of ice water. He didn't have a fever but if he stopped touching her the sickness would worsen he was sure. He kept tugging at Jason's string but the little fucker never answered so he asked Alfred to call and hand him the phone.

"Listen here you little shit," he said in favor of a hello.

"Uh oh."

"Yeah fucking uh oh, get your ass back here, I don't care if it's in one piece or not or so help me I will send a super or a speedster for your ass," he demanded then hung up.

"103," Alfred praised as Dick got them both out of the tub. He dried her off but left her in her wet clothes (hello boundaries) he would call one of the girls in a minute for help. In the time that it took him to get himself dry and in warm clothes her temp had gone up to 105 and sweat was pouring off of her.

"Shit," he exclaimed practically throwing himself onto the bed with her. He wrapped himself around her and pulled reassuringly on his string but she didn't pull back.

"Fuck fuck fuck, she always pulls back, even when she's asleep!"

He tried again, this time tugging out 'i love you's' over and over until he felt a reply. 'k' came a week tug and he nearly sobbed in relief.

"K, I tell you I love you and you say k," he asked her sleeping form.

104* (I cant find the degrees symbol)

Jason was back, Dick could hear his bike. He tugged at his string, Jason tugged back.

"What happened?"

"What happened is that she can't keep taking your rejection, she's sensitive and the bond makes it stronger," Dick explained, brushing her hair back.

"I'm sorry she didn't..."

"What tell you that you were ripping out her soul and killing her, well fuck you!"

"What do I do," he asked wringing his hands in rare uncertainty.

"Just touch her, tug on your string, she likes it. Three long pulls means 'i love you'." Jason grabbed her hand and gave the string three long tugs, over and over and over again until his real hands felt rope burned.

101*

She still wasn't awake, but she wasn't at risk of dying on them so Dick told Jason to 'hit the fucking shower you stink' and meet them in their room. Alfred trailed behind holding her IV bag, but made no move to keep her in the medical wing, after all the only cure was well...hugs, and soul string tugs. Which both Jason and Dick were taking turns doing, until it felt like a dance.

oct-18-24

[imsorrythatimweird101-blog]

Do you want to shift? Here's the answer

Gateway tapes. GATEWAY TAPES, G A T E W A Y T A P E S. hello, my name is Athena and I help people to shift. No, I haven't successfully shifted.

"WhY aRe YoU tAlKinG iF yOu HaVenT ShIfTed YeT. I WaNt REaL ExPeRt ThAt CaN"

Okay, to give you some background. I have astral projected many times. Means I'm able to leave my body. Now, why I haven't because I am mastering the basic before I start doing anything crazy but if I really REALLY wanted to, I can. Now to start the post, gateway tapes will be your best friend and lover. The whole point of shifting is getting yourself into a void state. The gateway tapes do that. It basically trains your body to get into void state to manifest, solve problems or whatever your intention is. Not only that, it shuts off the side of your brain and helps you do it in command. You have to enter **F10**. Then you can do whatever. Now before you start running with it. do not and I mean DO NOT. Rush through it. You can't train yourself if your just rushing through it like crazy because you want shift. These options are important because you will be like **ME**. and having go fucking back again and again because you decide to take your training wheels off too early and you have nowhere to go.

Okay, so your wondering. How do I start?

Well you go through each mediation *MORE THEN ONCE* until you master each one. Simple, now tapes are long and can be boring. I won't denied it but if your still trying shift from xyz. This will be easy for you

Tips/recommend:

Do tapes once in morning or night. But I really recommend to do them at night and btb (back to bed). I had my most successful when doing btb

Do each tape at least 3 times before moving on or keep doing them until you feel like your ready to move on. It's practice, I have done body asleep and mind awake for good week or 2. Now I can do that on command. Because I practice. Last time, when I rush. I couldn't even do anything. So be patient and practice

Be consistent. I recommend everyday. If you don't everyday then maybe every other day.

[gateway tapes ](https://drive.google.com/drive/u/0/mobile/folders/1vZJg5oJvfYVwWryJh05pfkZTV0cnd026)

Read the Manuel to get more deep into it but also please just do wave 1. You can advance if you want but it gets more extreme and complicated. Can be wonderful but still if your not used to out body experience

If your interested in my journey here's some links to my account (I want fans 😔✊)

Tiktok: @athenashiftsto

[insta](https://www.instagram.com/imsorrythatimweird?igsh=NGVhN2U2NjQ0Yg==)

[todorokis-girl]

Hii I have request for a fanfic I wish you can do this. I think the character can be Dazai and y/n can be his gf or just coworker. Y/n will get drown when try save him one of his suicide. Y/n can be die or half death I don't know, it's your choice. If y/n dies, he will feel guilt. I don't know your way to finish this fic but I am sure it'll be awesome. Please see my request! Good time for write!

Hello, and thank you for the request. Sorry it took so long; only now have I been able to sit and actually go through the things I have left to do.

Masterlist

The Depths of Us

The ocean roared against the cliffs, waves crashing with an unrelenting ferocity, as if it sought to devour the very land itself. Dazai Osamu stood at the precipice, his silhouette sharp against the moonlit sky. His overcoat billowed in the wind, each gust tugging him closer to the edge.

He peered down at the tumultuous sea, his dark eyes unreadable. “If the water takes me, will it grant me the quiet I’ve always sought?” he mused aloud, his voice nearly drowned out by the howling wind.

“Dazai!”

Your voice rang out, frantic, cutting through the chaos of the night. He turned slightly, his usual mischievous smirk flickering across his face, though it didn’t reach his eyes.

“You came,” he said, his tone light, almost teasing.

You stood several feet away, panting from your sprint. “Of course, I came. What the hell are you doing?”

He tilted his head as though the answer were obvious. “Testing a theory.”

You clenched your fists, anger and fear churning in your chest. “You can’t keep doing this,” you said, your voice trembling despite your best efforts. “You can’t keep throwing yourself into the void and expect no one to care.”

His gaze softened, just for a moment. “But why do you care?” he asked quietly, almost to himself. “It’s not like I—”

“Because I do!” you snapped, stepping closer. “Because you matter, even if you don’t see it. And because… because losing you would destroy me.”

For a fleeting second, something vulnerable flashed in his eyes, but it was gone before you could name it. He turned back toward the sea, his hands slipping into his pockets. “It’s just water, you know. No different from the rain, the tears people shed, the blood we spill. In the end, it all returns to the same place.”

He took a step forward.

“No!” You lunged toward him, panic surging through you like lightning.

The gravel under his foot crumbled, and he slipped. Time seemed to slow as his balance wavered. Without thinking, you threw yourself forward, your fingers just managing to grasp his arm as the two of you tumbled over the edge.

The fall was chaos.

The wind roared in your ears, drowning out your scream, and then the icy embrace of the ocean consumed you. The cold was a shock, a knife slicing through every nerve as the water dragged you down. Your limbs flailed instinctively, fighting against the relentless pull.

Somewhere in the black depths, you felt Dazai’s hand brush against yours before it slipped away. You kicked harder, desperate to reach him—or the surface—you weren’t sure which.

Your lungs burned, your chest screamed for air, but the waves were merciless. They pushed and pulled, spinning you in a disorienting dance until you couldn’t tell up from down. The last thing you saw was the pale glimmer of moonlight above, fading as the darkness swallowed you whole.

When Dazai broke the surface, gasping for breath, the world seemed muted. The stars above blurred, the sound of the waves dulled by the pounding of his heart. He whipped his head around, searching frantically.

“(Y/N)!” he called, his voice raw. “Where are you?!”

And then he saw you.

Floating face-down a few feet away, your body eerily still.

Something shattered inside him.

“No, no, no…” He swam toward you, his movements wild, frantic. When he reached you, he turned you over, his trembling hands cradling your lifeless face.

“Come on,” he muttered, his voice breaking. “Not you. Please, not you.”

He dragged you to the shore, every muscle in his body screaming with exhaustion. The moment his knees hit the rocky beach, he laid you down, pressing his ear to your chest. Nothing.

“Damn it!” he shouted, his hands trembling as he began compressions. “You can’t do this to me! You hear me?! You’re supposed to save me, not—” His voice cracked, tears streaming down his face as he worked. “don't leave me!”

He leaned down, breathing into your mouth, forcing air into your lungs. His mind was a storm of thoughts—memories of your laughter, your stubbornness, the way you looked at him like he was someone worth saving.

And then—

You coughed. Violently. Water spilled from your mouth, and you gasped for air, your body convulsing.

Dazai froze, his breath hitching. Then a laugh escaped him—a broken, disbelieving sound that turned into a sob. He pressed his forehead to yours, his damp hair clinging to his skin.

“You’re alive,” he whispered, his voice trembling.

Your eyes fluttered open, hazy and unfocused. “Dazai…”

“I’m here,” he said quickly, brushing wet strands of hair from your face.

“You’re an idiot,” you rasped, a faint, wry smile tugging at your lips despite your shivering. “But you’re… worth saving.”

His smile faltered, and his expression crumpled. “What if I’m not?”

You reached up, weakly brushing your fingers against his cheek. “… let me decide that,” you whispered, before exhaustion pulled you under once more.

The hospital room was quiet, save for the steady beeping of the monitors. Dazai sat by your bedside, his elbows resting on his knees, his head bowed.

You stirred, the motion pulling him from his thoughts. His head snapped up, relief flooding his face.

“You’re awake,” he said softly.

You smiled faintly. “Looks like I am.”

For a long moment, he just looked at you, his gaze searching, as though trying to convince himself you were really there.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

“For what?” you asked, your voice hoarse.

“For everything,” he admitted, his hands clenching into fists. “For putting you in danger. For making you think I’m worth this kind of pain.”

You reached out, your fingers brushing against his. “Dazai,” you said, your voice steadier now. “You don’t get to decide what you’re worth to me. You’re alive, and that’s enough.”

He didn’t reply, but for the first time in a long while, something in his expression softened.

And as you drifted back to sleep, he stayed by your side, the weight of the ocean still lingering—but now, perhaps, a little lighter.

[lostfirefly]

*this sketch is kinda sad.. warning: tears, description of a dead body*

"Who was Miss Mitchell to you, Mr. the Clown?"

"What? Oh. We lived together." Buggy stood in front of the officer, struggling to choose his words. "Please, can you escort me to her?"

"Just a couple more questions..."

"Just walk me to her." Buggy bellowed. "I want to see her."

"Okay. You go that way." The officer pointed to a gray door with his hand.

Buggy walked into a large, dimly lit room, his heart pounding in his chest. The sterile scent of antiseptics hung thick in the air, mingling with an oppressive silence that clung to his skin. His breath hitched when he spotted Catherine lying on a gurney, her form eerily still beneath the stark white sheets. With every hesitant step, his legs felt like jelly, unsteady and uncertain as he approached her.

"Hello, cotton candy," Buggy whispered, his voice trembling as he reached out to take her cold, softly blue hand in his. The chill of her skin sent a shock of dread through him.

"Are you okay?" he pleaded, scanning her lifeless body, desperately seeking any sign of life.

As Buggy knelt beside her, the weight of his sorrow crashed down like a wave, and he pressed his head to her chest, hoping for the faint sound of a heartbeat. "Please, baby, open your eyes. You promised me that we would always be together," he murmured, each word heavy with a mix of love and despair. "You promised."

Tears streamed down his cheeks, washing away the vibrant clown makeup he wore, leaving only the raw, unfiltered anguish of his pain. "Open your eyes, please. Get up! Let’s go home, please?"

The desperation laced in his words grew sharper as he squeezed her hand tighter, a plea that echoed through the empty room.

"You can’t leave me alone. Are you a liar like Shanks? And all the others?!" Buggy's voice cracked, a sob threatening to escape as he fought against the overwhelming flood of emotion.

"You little shit, open your eyes!!" The sharpness of his bark contrasted with the tenderness that followed. "I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. I won’t yell anymore. I promise! I'll be the most attentive boyfriend. That's why you left me, right? I will change! I promise! Try to believe me! Please, let’s go home."

The image of their shared meals, of laughter and the scent of pasta with sausages, danced in Buggy's mind—a brief glow illuminating the darkness that surrounded him now. "I’ll make you your favorite pasta when we come back home. I'll make it for you, just like you like it." Buggy pressed his forehead against her still body, begging the universe to return her to him, desperate for just one more chance to hold her close and remind her of the life they built together, a life he was unwilling to let slip away into the void.

Tears were streaming down his cheeks, their warm trails a testament to his heartache, when Buggy felt a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Leave me alone!” he barked, desperate to shroud himself in sadness.

“Hello, my Buggy Bear!” a familiar voice cut through his anguish.

Catherine stood behind him, her bright smile contrasting sharply with the somber atmosphere.

“Cotton candy?” Buggy’s voice cracked as he sniffled, swiping at his tear-streaked face. The gurney next to him reminded him of the finality that loomed over their moment. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his heart racing at the sight of her. "Did you come to tell us that we are going home?"

“No, you'll come home. I came to say goodbye to you,” she replied softly, her expression a mix of sorrow and warmth. “I’m sorry, my blue-haired love; I guess I can’t keep my promise.” Catherine knelt beside him, her presence a balm to his wounded spirit.

“You can’t do this to me! What will I do without you?” Buggy stared at her with wet eyes. “Did you leave me because I’m disgusting? Because I didn’t pay attention to you?” His voice was laced with desperation, the tears returning as he said this question.

“Of course no, my silly clown,” Catherine caressed his cheek, her touch igniting a spark of hope amidst his despair. “I was so happy with you. You’re wonderful. You’re the love of my life, Buggy the Clown.” Her words wrapped around him like a warm embrace, momentarily easing the pain. "Can I ask you something?” she continued, searching his eyes.

“Don’t go, please,” Buggy pleaded, his hand squeezing Catherine's in a desperate bid to hold onto the moment.

“I have to go,” she whispered, her voice trembling but resolute. “But can I drop by sometimes, okay? I want to be sure that you're okay.”

The thought lingered heavy in the air—an unspoken promise that though distances may separate them, the love they shared would endure, flickering like a candle in the darkness.

Buggy nodded.

"Everything will be okay. You will be okay, my love. It's a pity we didn't have time to talk one last time. I love you so, so much!" Catherine kissed his forehead. "But everything will be fine soon. You'll wake up one morning and everything will be fine. Just wake up. Wake up, okay? Buggy..."

"What?"

"Wake up, Buggy!" Catherine nudged him in the shoulder. "Wake up!!"

Buggy opened his eyes with difficulty and heard his phone vibrating. "What the hell?" He looked around the room and looked at the phone again.

"Cotton Candy" was displayed on the screen. Buggy's heart sank, but he quickly picked up the phone.

"Hello, my little bear!!" Catherine was waving at him through the video link.

"Cotton Candy? Are you alive?" Buggy rounded his eyes.

"Are you on drugs, Buggy?" Catherine's eyes widened. "What could have happened to me?"

"Where are you?" Buggy shook his head, trying to come to his senses.

"At home, in Loguetown. I've called you a few times already. You didn't pick up the phone and I was starting to worry."

"You said you'd text me when you landed!" Buggy was indignant.

"Yeah! Sorry! I forgot my power bank at home. I must have left it on the shelf. I was listening to music the whole way and my phone died. I got to my parents' house and ran out to buy a new one. I spent some of our money."

"Fuck the money. Are you okay?"

"Yes! I'm home with Jules." Catherine peered at the screen of her phone and saw Buggy's face, red from crying. "What's wrong? Have you been crying?"

"I don't know. I must have had a bad dream."

"What happened, little bear?" Catherine asked with worry.

"I don't know." Buggy rubbed his face with his hand. "Plane crash. You died and then you came to me as a fucking ghost."

"Oh, my God!! Buggy... That's terrible!! Are you okay? My blue-haired love! Should I come back?"

"Catherine, sis! I bought three bottles of wine and two pizzas have already arrived."

"Jules, get out of here." Catherine hissed through the teeth.

"Who's there?" Buggy asked, frowning.

"Hello, my sister's kidnapper!" Jules leaned into the camera and waved. "Oh, my God! What were you crying about? No, I know it's very emotional to be far away from my sister, but crying? Seriously, clown?"

"Jules, get out of here!" Catherine pushed her indignant sister out of the bedroom. "I'm so sorry. So... should I go back?"

"What? No! I'm fine. But I've given your sister another reason to laugh at me." Buggy grinned.

"I won't let her laugh at things like that! Please, Buggy, don't worry. I'm fine and I'll be back to you soon. You know what I want? Your mac with sausages. Will you make me some macaroni and sausage?" Catherine grinned at the camera.

"Okay." Buggy nodded.

"And buy me a chocolate cake from that place run by a bunny, please."

"Okay." He tried to smile.

"Buggy..."

"What?"

"Was I a pretty ghost?"

"The most pretty ghost in the world!"

"It's just a dream. I'm sure we have many years ahead of us. Do you want to talk some more?"

"No. I'm fine."

"Okay then. I'll go talk to my sister. And I'll call you later, okay? Be sure to text me!"

"Ok."

"Buggy..."

"What?"

"L-word?"

"L-word." Buggy nodded.

Catherine gave him a few air kisses and hung up.

"Fuck, fucking dream!" Buggy got up from the couch and went to warm up some more pancakes.

[supercorpkid]

Ace Reporter - part 2

Supergirl, Kara Danvers x Reader!, Lena Luthor x Reader!

Word Count: 1790

Part 1

Kara Danvers is the worst. No, for real. She is the worst human being ever. 

She thinks she is so much smarter and astute at investigating things and that it just comes naturally and easy to her for some goddamn reason. 

She never once thinks it is because she dazzles everyone with her smile and handsome features. Never even acknowledges that her kindness just makes people want to be kind in return.

No. Kara Danvers just seems to think that clues and information fall on her lap because she’s so good at what she does and ugh, you hate her. Just hate her stupid cardigans, the constant fixing up her glasses, the way her mouth is pink and soft and kissable, how her hair falls perfectly in beautiful waves and how kind her blue eyes are. 

You absolutely hate her and cannot wait to never have to work with her again.

“Hm.” Kara stares at the board of clues that you two put together, with so much intent like some new clue will just appear in it if she wishes hard enough. Silly goose. She eats more fries and speaks mouthful. “Do you actually think this fake account could be a clue? Honestly, it's a terrible pseudonym, you'd think Lex Luthor would be smarter than this.”

How does Kara Danvers eat so much and looks so fit? Like that girl eats like an army of men, and yet she is as fit as you wish you were in your wildest dreams. You’ve been hanging with Kara for a week or so and you never saw her going to the gym. How are her arms so strong and perfectly shaped?

“Y/N? Hello? Can you please chime in with your clever comments and incredible ability on finding other people’s secrets?”

Kara Danvers says things like that. They all sound like a compliment and she might just be really nice, but you don’t trust her. She clearly does things like that so she could come in at the last second and steal a prize from you and give you her thousand-dollar-winning smile. 

“Sometimes I think you have a secret.” You go back to looking at the board. You have been staring at something else completely for the past minutes. To Kara’s muscular back and the body part that’s close-by. "Some other times I'm sure."

“Ha ha.” She looks back at you, not amused. “You’re not here to investigate me. So I’d appreciate it if you focused on Lex.” 

You grin devilish. “I can do both.” You finally stand, cleaning your greasy hands on your pants, and you give a few steps forward. You never once stop staring at her, though. "You're lying." 

"What?" She barks, confused. "I'm not lying."

"Oh Kara." This is the first time you've used her name instead of the Danvers, so she is taken aback by it. "You sound like Clark when I start sniffing around his secrets. Actually, come to think of it, you are exactly like Clark. Disappears, comes back all disheveled like you were just making out in a random closet." She opens her mouth but you cut her out first. "Of course Clark has Lois to blame it on, and you don't." You raise an eyebrow at her. "Unless…" You smirk at her wide eyes, and mouth agape. "No, sweet Kara Danvers wouldn't make out in a random closet."

You poke her muscular arm and are met with rock solid biceps. How?

"Kara Danvers is a romantic. Let me guess, candle lit dinners where you eat most of the food," You look at her incredibly defined abdomen. "and it just disappears into the void you have on your stomach."

"Hey! I just like eating. Not fair shaming people for their love of food." 

You smile and go on, ignoring the interruption. "Then you invite your date for a movie, only for it to be discarded halfway through it while you make out on the couch. Respectfully, of course. I'm guessing heavy make out sessions only happen after the third date with explicit consent." 

Kara raises her eyebrows, and you might not know her that well, but you know what that look means. She finally thought of a comeback. "Sounds like you're planning a date, Y/L/N. Let me guess, you want me to ask you out?"

You scoff at the idea. Why would you go out with the one girl who's literally a pain in your ass? "You wish, Danvers. When I'm done with this piece you will never see me again."

"What a shame." She gives you her best fake smile, which is still pretty cute. But you would be caught dead before admitting this to anyone else. "Now would you mind going back to the one thing you should be working on?"

So you go back to the board and finally start working. It's late at night, everyone at CatCo has left by now, and Kara already ate more than half of the burgers you two ordered, and you're pretty sure she is taking a nap while pretending to read those documents, when you finally crack it.

"EUREKA!" You yell, excited with your own discovery. 

Kara snaps her head up, a half eaten fries drop from her mouth, and yes, you might have yelled just to confirm your suspicion of her falling asleep while you two were working, but hey! You were right when you notice that her eyes take a while to focus back on you.

"What?" Kara clears the papers in front of her, gets up in a hurry making her way to you. "What happened?"

"Well, I know where Lex is. But most importantly, I have confirmation that you were napping while I worked!"

Kara rolls her eyes at you, looking back at the board. "Will you take this seriously?"

"I'm sorry, did I not just find out right this second where the hell Lex Luthor is hidden?" You point to the board and mumble right after, "not Clark fucking Kent aka the super-" Kara's eyes widen at you, "daily planet reporter, not even Kara fucking Danvers aka prize-awardee. Nope. Just little old me."

"Ok, well." She ignores everything you just said, focusing on the word Kaznia written in front of her. "Better call Lena about it."

You go back to the desk, taking a sip of your drink while listening to their conversation. A while later, Kara looks back at you.

"Alright. I guess Lena and I are going to Kaznia."

You get up from the chair immediately, "The hell you are!" She furrows her brows to your sudden outburst. "Like hell you are going to debunk me from this piece, Danvers. I know you've been dying to steal the spotlight all to yourself, but not this time. Once is more than enough."

"What are you even- You know what, it doesn't matter. You can come too. I wasn't just going to assume you were dying to go to Kaznia when you've been wanting nothing but to go back to Metropolis and be done with working with me."

You narrow your eyes at her. Yeah, right. She is being thoughtful and considerate. Suuuure.

"Well I'm not dying to keep going with neither, but I'm as involved in this as you are. So I guess we're stuck together until the end."

"Great!" She doesn't even look disappointed about it. Is her smile actually genuine? Unless she is the greatest actress of all time, which you don't think she is. "Call your editor, pack your bags. The Ace Reporters are on the case."

"Did you just give us a team name?" Kara looks so proud of herself, you can't bring yourself to be your usual mean self and roast her for it. So you just shrug. "It's fine, I guess."

"But our catchphrase won't be Eureka."

"It's not a catchphrase, you weirdo. I just wanted to prove you were asleep while I solved the case." 

"Yes, Y/N, you are the best detective. You are so much better than me at it. You're so much better than me at everything."

You narrow your eyes at her, obviously not believing in her at all, while you two make your way to the elevator.

"Glad you found it in you to admit it." You snark back, while she simply smiles. Fucking ass nerd. 

The elevator dings and you and Kara make your way inside. It's so late, you can feel sleep creeping up on you. You can also feel Kara's eyes burning a hole into you, so you finally snap your head up to her and she shuffles uncomfortably when you bark the question, "What?"

"No-Nothing." Her cheeks redden and you roll your eyes. She reaches for your arm, but doesn't really touch you. You can feel the ghost touch, and yet nothing comes. And even though you hate her, you can't help it but to feel disappointed she didn't actually follow through with it. 

"Hey," she barely whispers a few seconds later. "What did you mean by debunking you from this piece and stealing the spotlight again?"

You stare at her, wide eyes like a deer caught in the red light. You didn't expect you'd ever have to explain to Kara Danvers why you hate her. And you certainly thought that if you did, you would have more reasons to add into the mix instead of only, 'you (probably) wrote a better article than I did, about the same thing, so they gave you a prize that I (probably) didn't deserve anyway'.

"I don't think we've met before." She goes on, when you don't say anything for a few seconds and the silence stretches out uncomfortably in the elevator. "Sure, I've met a lot of people, but I don't think I'd forget meeting you."

It's the way she says it that leaves no margin for you to wonder what she means by it. She means you, because there's something about you. You breathe deep, biting your tongue.

"I didn't mean anything." So you lie and hate yourself for it, but also can't bring yourself to tell the truth at all. "I guess I'm just used to having to fight to see my name in the byline." So you give her a half-true to make up for it.

"Not with me, you don't. Not when you're so good at finding other people's secrets." You give her a thankful and truthful smile that you weren't able to fight it. Not when it's so late at night, and you're feeling incredibly high and happy about your recent discovery.

"You were wrong about one thing though," The elevator dings, Kara steps out, but turns around to look at you. "I'd make out in a closet too if you were my Lois."

The elevator door closes on your dumbstruck face, and it takes you more time than you'd like to admit for you to press the button for the door to open again. When you finally do, Kara is no longer on the other side.

[antimatterz]

interesting turn of events

dan heng x gn!reader

typical "there's only one bed" trope but i've never written one before and wanted to do it once so here we are. no warnings.

content under the cut | masterlist

something about the dark, glum streets of boulder city left you with a smothered feeling. it was as if a weight lay upon your shoulders, slowing you down with its heaviness. it was exhausting, and the more time you spent outside, the more tired you became. maybe that was why all the citizens seemed so dull and gloomy. this town was completely void of a spark, nothing that brightened the misery. just being here made the sense of depression sneak up on you, and the continuous stress of the underworld netizens was contagious. 

along with your travel companion, you made your way through the town that was shrouded in darkness perpetually, looking for a place to stay and get some much-needed rest. 

     "you feel it too, huh?" dan heng asked, breaking the silence that had lingered between you for a while. 

     "feel what?" you asked, not immediately grasping what the male was getting at. 

     "the absence of hope," he explained, gazing into the dark distance afore you. "there's no joy here, no liveliness, nothing that brings a reason to live to these people. it's... depressing." 

     "yeah, it is," you agreed, nodding as you listened to his words. "i've spent a few days here and it's already weighing upon me. imagine having to spend your entire life here in the underworld." 

     "it's never been easy here, but ever since they sealed it off, the life has been sucked out of this place," dan heng mused, solemn eyes still looking ahead of him. "i can't wait to resolve this all and get back to the surface." 

     "i'm afraid it won't be fixed overnight," you sighed. just like dan heng, you weren't looking forward to staying here much longer. 

of course you had march with you, who brought quite some liveliness to the sullen atmosphere, but even the cheerful girl was affected by the gloominess of this place. and then there was dan heng, ever the pessimist – or realist, as he prefered to call it. everyone dealt with the situation here in their own way, and so did you. you made sure to keep a close eye on all your companions, and did what you could to console those who appeared to be heavily affected by the misery that had intricately weaved itself into the underground. 

     "i'm starting to fear that we have no other option than to spend the night in the goethe grand hotel again," dan heng commented as you passed through yet another alley. 

     "aww, you're acting as if it was that bad," you lightly mocked him. "okay, the mattress wasn't soft at all and it smelled really suspicious but at least we had a place to sleep." 

the male muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like an additional list of complaints he had regarding the goethe grand hotel, but he still led you through the dark streets towards the mentioned hotel. 

once inside, you were greeted by gertie, the owner of the old hotel. as cold and run-down as the building might've seemed, the woman greeted you warmly. 

     "hello ma'am, do you have two single rooms available for us?" dan heng asked politely. 

     "please, just call me gertie," the woman behind the desk waved dismissively. "i'll check right away, give me a moment." she went through a log on the desk in front of her, flipping through some pages before she found what she was looking for. "hm, i'm sorry. i only have one room available tonight. would that be a problem?" 

you and dan heng exchanged a look, and his face was as unreadable as ever. you had no idea what he thought about the situation that unfolded, and you had no idea what to say. a silence followed, in which gertie's face grew from questioning to mildly confused.

it was dan heng who first cleared his throat, shaking his head.

     "it's no problem," he answered, and you just nodded along.

     "it isn't," you agreed.

but really, wasn't it? on the inside you were freaking out mildly. you barely just met dan heng, and though you got along just fine, you wouldn't say you were on sharing-a-room terms. but it was either that or finding an even lousier place to stay, which held no appeal to you at all. 

     "excellent, here are your keys to room six," gertie announced, handing the keys to the male next to you. "enjoy your stay, and don't forget to leave a review." 

you instantly thought back to the reviews you already left behind, twice. your reviews had been nothing but positive, even though the hotel wasn't all that great. gertie was a kind woman, and you simply couldn't find it in you to leave a review that voiced your true feelings about the facility. but to leave the same review yet another time? hm. maybe you'd just ignore the parchment in the dresser. 

you followed your travel companion up the creaky wooden stairs that brought you to the first floor, and the male swiftly opened the door to hotel room six. it was dark and plain and it screamed poverty, much like the rooms you previously stayed in. there was, however, something that caught your eye – and judging from the way dan heng's eyes had widened, he noticed too. there was one bed, a single-person bed, and nothing close to a couch or sofa or anything else to sleep on. you felt your heartbeat pick up as realization hit you.

     "uhm," you brought out. "dan heng, there's only one bed." 

     "so i noticed," the male replied dryly. 

     "what do we do now?" you asked. 

     "simple. you take the bed, i'll sleep on the floor," dan heng shrugged. it wasn't even a suggestion; it was a solution already set in stone – for dan heng, at least. you weren't quite having it.

     "i don't think sleeping on the floor is a good idea," you hesitantly brought up. "we're supposed to meet with serval tomorrow and who knows what will happen after that? we need all the rest we can get, and sleeping on the moldy floor won't result in proper rest." 

     "so what do you suggest, y/n?" dan heng questioned, arching a brow. 

     "i-i was thinking, why don't we just... share the bed?" you reluctantly spoke up, eyes trained on the wooden bed as you refused to look at him. "that way, no one has to sleep on the floor." 

     "a single-person bed isn't made for two people to sleep in," dan heng stated matter-of-factly. "but i see your point, i don't think sleeping on the floor would do us any good." 

and with that, it was pretty much decided. you and dan heng – the mysterious guy you secretly admired from the very moment you opened your eyes and found him about to perform cpr on you – were about to sleep in the same bed. to be fair, you were struggling to keep your cool, but you didn't want to make a fool out of yourself in front of your travel companion. so you turned around, telling dan heng that you were going to change into your sleeping attire and heading into the bathroom. once there, you breathed out. it's no big deal, you kept telling yourself.

really, it wasn't.

as you deemed yourself ready, you exited the bathroom and the male went in after you. hesitantly, you made your way over to the bed and crawled under the covers. now it didn't matter what dan heng would do; you had secured your spot on the bed. maybe he would have a change of heart and decide to sleep on the floor regardless – no, that was unfair to think. it was you who came with this suggestion in the first place.

you lay in a manner that made your back face the bathroom door, nervously awaiting it to creak open. eventually, it did, and dan heng came out. you shut your eyes tightly, and your heart did multiple somersaults when you felt the mattress dip besides you as the male sat down. you heard the covers rustle as he shifted, and you shuffled as close to the edge as you could. it was uncomfortable, but imagine accidentally touching dan heng? no, you would spontaneously combust out of sheer shame and you were positive he wouldn't necessarily appreaciate it, either.

it wasn't comfortable, as you lay stiffly, afraid to move – or do so much as breathe in and out steadily. you were hyperaware of the body that lay next to you. because the bed was so small, he was close to you, regardless of how much you tried to keep your distance. your back was facing him, but you inhaled his scent nevertheless, and boy, he smelled good. fresh and comforting, like the fleeting touch of jasmin flowers. it made you want to crawl closer to him, to breathe in deeply and fall asleep against him, basking in comfort. but aeons, you would never have the guts to do so. dan heng would surely be freaked out.

or would he?

"y/n?" he muttered after a long silence.

a little surprised, you halfheartedly turned around. it had been quiet for a long time, and you were certain he would've been asleep by now. well, apparently he wasn't. you caught his gaze, illuminated by the dying oil lamp on the nightstand.

"good, you're awake," dan heng stated.

"yeah," you said, very much confirming the obvious. "what's it?"

"you know..." the male began, trailing off after barely speaking two words. he seemed to think, his eyes darting away from you momentarily. he didn't look like he would speak up anytime soon, but you didn't urge him on. dan heng was the quiet type, usually not too happy when he was forced to talk. so you let him, waiting patiently.

you followed his gaze, only to find that he was looking at nothing in particular. though the oil lamp casted a warm hue upon the furniture and walls, it was hard to make out details and dan heng was pretty much staring into a void of nothingness. that was really out of character for him; even though he was silent often, his gaze was always focused and aware. now you fully turned around to face him properly, temporarily forgetting about your previous worries.

"were it anyone else, i would've objected," he spoke up after recollecting himself. "as in, i would've slept on the floor."

"what?" you questioned dumbly, not getting it.

"i like you," dan heng bluntly said. "that's why i agreed on spending a night in the same bed as you. i thought about it and realized, were it march who asked me to, i would've refused blatantly. i don't mean any offense but –"

"hold up," you said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "you what?"

"i said what i said, y/n. i like you," the male repeated, finally looking straight at you. "i simply found you attractive from the start, but as we are spending time together here in belobog, i grew attracted to how you are as a person just as much. i'm sorry if this catches you off-guard, but i've been thinking it over and felt like i had to say it."

you stared at him, utterly dumbfounded. dan heng liked you? now that was something you never dared to hope for. surely, with you it also started with an infatuation, but spending time with dan heng made you realize that you also liked him. and now he was telling you he liked you back?

"you didn't inhale too many geomarrow particles, did you?" you hesitantly joked, not believing what was happening.

"i'm dead serious, y/n." dan heng shook his head. "you know me, i barely joke around, let alone in a situation like this." his hand reached out to find your cheek gently, and he looked at you solemnly. "now, i am slowly losing my facade if you don't say something back."

you instantly cracked a smile, placing your hand on top of his.

"i would've never suggested sharing a bed if it wasn't you," you told him. "i like you too. it started when i opened my eyes and found a hot guy bent over me, about to give me cpr, but as time passed –"

"you think i'm hot?" dan heng asked, and for the very first time, you caught a hint of amusement lingering on the edge of his voice.

"ah, forget i said anything," you uttered, instantly turning around so your back was facing him once more. aeons, that was stupid!

you heard dan heng chuckle, and two arms snaked around your waist from behind. he pulled you closer to him, gently hugging you against his chest.

"don't lay so close to the edge of the mattress, you might fall off."

you only nodded, inhaling his scent as you realize your previous wish had suddenly come true. who would've thought? was this real? were you dreaming? or were you the one high on geomarrow particles? you had no idea, but you decided not to care. smiling softly, you nuzzled closer to the male. you'd see tomorrow; for now you were going to enjoy this.

[ak47stylegirl]

I have officially fallen down the rabbit hole of minecraft Smps characters because I have now written fic 😅

I don’t know what this is, all I know is it’s some kind of domestic established relationship scarian au my brain cooked up while I was sick.

(enough of me rambling, hope you enjoy)

—

The morning sun shone through the window, drawing Scar from his slumber. Birds could be heard singing outside (plus mobs dying) as Scar blinked the sleep from his eyes.

Jellie was sitting on the windowsill, bathing in the morning sun. It was a beautiful sight to wake up to if you asked Scar.

There was one other though. Scar looked to his right and smiled softly.

Grain was curled up next to Scar, cheek swooshed up against his pillow. The sight was so addicting to Scar, the way the avian’s features were soft and carefree in sleep.

Although…

Scar frowned, noticing that wasn’t exactly the case today. Grian’s face was flushed, beads of sweat gathered around his temples.

With concern blossoming, Scar gently pressed his lips against Grian’s forehead, and immediately found a simmering fever.

Grian groaned, blinking groggily up at Scar.

“Well, hello there…” Scar smiled tenderly, brushing a strand of hair out of Grian’s face. “You’ve feeling alright there, love?”

Grian looked briefly like he wanted to shake his head and bury his face back into Scar’s bare chest, eyes filled with despair and anguish.

But this was Grian. Workaholic Grian.

Scar watched in dismay as Grian rolled over onto his back with a misery filled groan, “What time is it?” Grian asked, rubbing his face with his hands.

Scar sighed, sitting up properly to check the time; not surprised by the misdirection, this was Grian after all.

“It’s around six…and you didn’t answer my ques-”

Scar’s concern skyrocketed as he watched Grian struggle to sit up, immediately reaching out a hand to help. “Woah, I got you…”

Worry and dread was bubbling in Scar’s stomach.

“I’m fine…” Grian insisted as he stared down at his lap, breathing heavily like he had just ran a marathon. “I..I just had a bad night, that's all...”

Well that much was true, Scar could admit as he remembered Grian having a hard time getting to sleep last night.

Tossing and turning constantly. Unable to get comfortable. It was a whole ordeal.

But as Scar fully took in the state of his love, he could see how Grian was trembling ever so slightly, swaying where he sat and getting paler by the second.

This was definitely more than a bad night's sleep.

Scar shook his head, having had enough of his pesky bird’s stubbornness. “Grian…You’re running a fever.”

Grian’s eyebrows creased, starting to sway dangerously close to falling off the bed now. “Wha-”

“Okay no, come here…” Scar wrapped his arm around Grian’s waist with a sigh, pulling the sick avian towards him.

Grian yelped in surprise as he suddenly found himself leaning against lean muscle, cheek tucked against the nape of Scar's neck.

“Scar!” Grian whined, as some of his resolve to get up crumbled like wet cardboard in the rain. Oh void, he did feel appallingly horrible but-

“I have things I have to do!”

Scar ticked his tongue, not convinced in the slightest.

“And those things can wait…” Scar scolded lightly as he gently lowered himself and Grian down onto the bed.

“Right now, we’re going back to sleep for a couple more hours, then I’m going to make you something to eat and then you are going to rest…”

“But…but there’s so much to do...” Grian pouted, his resolve falling away from him every second he didn’t get up. (And the way Scar was rubbing the patch of skin in between his wings wasn’t helping!)

“I can’t…I can’t take a sick day..” Grian’s stomach was flipping and flopping all over the place. “I just can’t, there’s too much-“

“Gri, please…” Scar pressed his lips against Grian’s head in a tender kiss, his heart hurting for his love. “Let me take care of you…”

Grian squeezed his eyes shut as a wave of nausea overtook him. “Scar…”

“Please…” Scar was begging now, he really didn’t want to fight Grian on this but this was a battle he had to win. “For me..”

Grian was silent for a long tense second, before sighing.

“Okay, okay fine...” Grian whined, breaking out into feverish shivers. “but I got to call work first, and then I’ll probably have to find someone to replace me and, oh no-”

Scar frowned, watching as grian started to ramble with a slightly panicked tone.

“I was going to meet Mumbo for lunch!” Grian gasped, eyes widening with a feverish haze. “I’ll have to message him too and…and, oh Scar! it would really just be better if just go-”

“Woah! What did I just say…” Scar scolded lightly as he pulled their blanket up higher so it covered Grian’s shivering form better. “I will handle it, love…”

“You are not to worry about a thing…” Scar tucked a strand of Grian’s hair behind the avian’s ear. “I just want you to focus on getting better, okay?”

Grian whined, feeling too exhausted and nauseous to put up a fight. “Just don’t say anything stupid to my boss, I still have to work with those people…”

“Why, so little faith…” Scar mumbled as he reached over for his communicator, typing a quick message to Grian’s boss.

Goodtimeswithscar whispers to Grian’s boss: hi, Grian’s partner here. Grian’s sick so he’s not coming in today.

If anyone had a problem with Grian taking a sick day or if Scar had his way, multiple, (you don’t get over an illness in one day!) then they could take it up with him. (Scar)

“I’ll have you know that I have never said anything stupid in my life…” Scar whispered, pressing a kiss to Grian’s temple.

Grian huffed in disbelief, smiling ever so slightly as he watched Scar type out a message to Mumbo, his eyelids getting steadily heavier.

Goodtimeswithscar whispers to MumboJumbo: Our pesky Bird is sick, so he can’t make that lunch meet up thingy you two had planned.

Before Scar could put his communicator away, Mumbo replied to his message.

“Damn mumbo, did you even go to sleep last night??” Scar muttered under his breath as he read the message.

MumboJumbo whispers to Goodtimeswithscar: Damn, poor guy. Yeah, that’s fine, I totally get it. Tell Grian to rest and not to be a spoon for me, will you?

Goodtimeswithscar whispers to MumboJumbo: Will do.

“Mumbo says to rest and not be a spoon, whatever that means?” Scar told Grian as placed his communicator away.

Grian hummed, barely awake to fully comprehend what Scar was saying.

Scar smiled softly at the sight, glad his love was getting some sleep. Scar closed his eyes, content to just hold his bird close.

Fin.

[xxswagcorexx]

please may I have some fic recs? mainly ones that will have me kicking my feet and giggling- nothing too serious but a light read: the vibes of stand partners by eternal kind of.

hi! i haven't read stand partners yet but i skimmed through the tags and here are some ones i like/hit the same vibe :) it is very long though </3

Pretty Things by ros_is_writing

Laying facedown on the bed was his partner Ashswag, the only other person with keys to Red’s apartment. When he heard Red come into the room he rolled over onto his back and sat up, dark braid flipping over his shoulder at the change of gravity. “Welcome home,” Ash grinned, eyes crinkling in laughter. “This is my house,” Red noted. He put a hand on his hip and looked at Ash over his sunglasses, a joking form of their normal rivalry. “Yeah, but I was here first,” Ash rolled his eyes and scooted off the bed. He casually strolled across the room like he wasn’t the highlight of Red’s day and dropped a kiss into his hair.

Red sees an ostrich by Anonymous

“I don’t think you were smiling this much even when we got married.” “Ash, there wasn't ostriches at our wedding.” “You're allergic to ostriches.” Swagdoons fluff (OOC)

(oh,) to be a comfort by Felix_J

"It is good here, people say." Ash mutters. The words tug at his throat, and it's a bit hard to breathe. He'll manage. "Good place to take your partner." "Says Josh?" Red quirks an eyebrow. Moves his other hand, then, the one that's free, to rest on his knee, and it's where he must register the metal against the palm. Ash stares off silently. He thinks they say not to look at the sun for a reason, because it's too beautiful as it bleeds red into the ocean. But hey, the S.U.N. is the new sun, so they are, and really, the tiny reflections of it in Red's eyes when he hangs his head feel way more important. Just... not easier, to look at. He blinks the tears off. Unlike someone, he doesn't have sunglasses, so that he can admit. "Says Josh." He agrees quietly.

away from the winds by Anonymous

Ash, because he’s a bastard and has never heard of a healthy sleep schedule, shows up at his doorstep at six on the dot. He’s sitting in the kitchen when Red finally stumbles downstairs, spinning the key Red gave him months ago around his fingers with a shit-eating grin on his face.

after closing time by cherubium

after a busy day at the casino, the casino quartet decide to rest.

overdosed on sugar and holiday high by Anonymous

“Morning Ash,” Red greets, supported with a small wave. And as an afterthought, Red adds, “Merry Christmas.” Because he’s soft like that, then to balance the statement, he continues, “Can’t believe you’re still working during the holidays like some capitalist contributing to society.“

Counting Stars by Dreamshadow2

Lifesteal can be extremely dangerous at times. Usually, you can never relax. But some days, when things get a bit too much, you just need some time to relax, to be yourself. Or: ScamDuo stargazing, tons of fluff, can be read as platonic or romantic

(hello) my old heart by Anonymous

What he doesn’t ask is why Ash chooses, over and over, to step through that door, through Lifesteal and Earthbound and the wastelands of an apocalypse. The void knows how many other worlds they’ve followed each other through without a second thought.

sir thats my emotional support human by oneirogen

god!ash sleeping while hugging red to his chest like an oversized plushie. send post

something stupid by starbamnk

'I love you.' Ash had to stop himself from choking. That's not how they were here. It ached, but that wasn't how things were.

.

ALSO i usually don't rec my own fics but i've written so much fluff that i figured i should share it with you too anon . also willow swagcore author reveal too i guess LOL

.

fallin' in love

Ash and Red go to a pumpkin patch on their day off.

it’s no big deal (that i love you)

Sometimes Ash understands people when they call him and Red a couple. They are partners, in a sense, but not in that way. After all, when you’ve spent so long as enemies, survivalists, comrades, even, you notice a lot about the other person. From tracking down Red’s movements to stealing that stupid bell from Capital City, to pressing down on wounds and praying it didn’t get infected, they’ve been through everything. Been through the happy, sad, and angry tears together, and everything else in-between. But of course, everything they did had to be a business deal—a private agreement between just both of them. or: ashswag has some thoughts about red while they fall asleep together (ft. swagdoons qpr)

i'd duet again

Neither of them remembers when their morning ritual started, but in the grand scheme of things, that doesn’t matter. The fact is that Red would be the one to wake up first, get ready, start the coffee machine for Ash, and start playing his guitar in the garden. or: ash and red's morning duet

homemade comforts

If Red was being honest, he reveled in moments like this. Moments when Ash and he were far away from all of the violence, all of the responsibilities, and away from any prying eyes around them. Just Ash and Red, cooking together in their shitty little kitchenette that only fits two people.

four of a kind

Ash, Branzy, Clown, and Red close up the casino for the week.

best friends

As they ran back through the streets, they let the rain pour down on them, because they were already drenched. They cackled like madmen throughout it all and in that moment, both of them knew that they had something special. And they were going to get such a bad cold after this. or: how red and ash meet, and how they become friends

temporal

while the world melts around them, ash and red spend the night dancing. that's the fic.

jenga tower

"Dude-" Ash says through a wheezed breath, "Do you think this a little much?" Clown hums, "Mmm, no. I think you're just fineee." "Exactly," Red chimes in, definitely not helping the 'hey wouldn't it be funny if we all laid on Ash?' cause. or: casino quartet turn into a human jenga tower. for roses and smoke week, free day

curtains

It's 7pm, and Ash and Red are exhausted after a 12 hour day of moving. Ends up they forgot the fucking curtains.

[pretz3l-log1c]

Recently I saw a post explaining cats vocalize around humans as a way to social signal. That Humans do a lot of social signaling as well. That's why people talk about the weather or will grumble about the long wait in line to the person near them. Or why people will ask 'Hey, how's it going?' and just want a 'good. Thanks for asking. And you?'. It's all about recognizing you're part of a group.

Then I saw, and reblogged a post, explaining that compared to most marketing stats, fanfiction is exceptionally above engagment averages at even 10% kudos per hits.

Yet, fanfic writers often feel as if they're screaming into a void and that engagement is down/dwindling/dying/etc.

So now I'm wondering if these two things are connected.

I think the problem fanfic writers are currently facing is a matter of community. In a way participating in fandom by writing fanfic is a way of social signalling. It is a way for the writer to go "I like this thing, don't you like this thing too?"

It's like the writer is calling out hello only for 90 out of 100 people to blankly stare at them. 10 out of 100 will wave hello. Only a few out of 100 will actually say something back.

Is it any wonder writers feel like they're screaming into a void? At least when you scream into a void you don't know how many people heard you, you just hear who screams back. It has to hurt mentally to put your heart out there and feel like it's being ignored.

I think about how forums of the early internet age have largely died off. How Tumblr engagement has ebbed over the years. How fanfiction has become some people's main means of engaging in fandom because it's 'free'.*

So I genuinely think the problem here is fanfic writers want community and are trying to gain that through fanfic. And they feel largely ignored/abandoned/snubbed because they're not recieving that engagement.

So my advice to writers:

turn off/hide/ignore your fanfic stats. If email alerts for kudos and/or comments spark joy then keep them. Otherwise turn those off as well.

create and/or join fandom focused discords. Find people you connect with and build a community that way.

put an author's note on your works that you like to engage with readers. That you want their thoughts, feelings opinions, etc. on your writing. Provide links for people to to chat you up on whatever social media site you prefer.

My advice to readers:

if you're going to talk to fandom friends about a fic you read, maybe leave a comment as simple as 'I love this and I'm going to share it with everyone I know.'

if you find a fic you regularly re-read or an author you loyally follow, let the author know that.

if a fic had a huge impact on you, let the writer know that.

Readers please note: I am not saying leave kudos more often, I am not saying comment on every fic. I am saying, in short, if it moves you then let the author know you were moved.

* yes I know fanworks are a labor of love/hobby and not actually free for the creator at least in time/effort. I write fanfic. I'm just saying it doesn't typically cost money to consume.

[galway-girlatwork]

Fandom: Supernatural.

Rating: Mature-There is fluff, angst, and smut. Talk of witches and shifters and deals made in hell

Central Characters: Sam/Dean/Crowley/Reader

Central Relationship: Sam/Reader

Word Count: 2,860

AO3

Please do not copy my work. If you liked it, please re-blog and tag me. Please do not steal my mood board. I do not give permission to copy, translate, or post my work to any other platform.

Music inspiration: Hello by Adele. Try by Pink. Lovely by Billie Eilish and Khalid. Skinny Love by Birdy.

Dedicated to @ninii-winchester for giving me a reason to drag this out of the dust of my hard drive and edit and add to make it halfway decent.

"Red string of Fate. The thread may stretch or tangle but it never breaks."

SUMMARY:

A witch’s connection with the Winchester’s put her in the hands of Crowley, determined to use her for her powers since his mother is MIA at the moment. We all know what lengths the boys will go to get back someone who’s become an ally to them. Can they save her? Or will she save them?

Do You Know Your ABC’s?

The neon lights of the bar buzzed as The Winchester brothers settled into a booth. A thick, smoky haze lingered in the air as locals laughed and hollered, engrossed in the karaoke singer currently owning the stage. Sam sipped his beer, his eyes drifting toward the woman who commanded the room's attention with her voice.

"She's good," Dean commented, raising his bottle in salute. The woman sang with a hauntingly beautiful voice that captured every ear in the bar. Her long, dark hair cascaded down her back, and her emerald green eyes glinted in the dim light as she locked eyes with different members of the crowd, making them feel like she was singing just for them.

"Yeah, really good," Sam agreed, leaning back in his seat. But there was something more about her—something that made his hunter instincts kick in.

As the final note lingered in the air, the crowd erupted into applause. The woman—Aurora, the DJ announced—smiled gracefully, gave a small wave, and made her way off the stage. Dean tracked her movement as she slipped behind the bar, whispering something to the bartender. The brothers shared a glance; there was something about her that set her apart from the ordinary bar crowd.

Minutes later, the bartender approached their booth. "Your tab’s been paid," he said, nodding toward the door where the mysterious woman had just disappeared.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "By who?"

"The lady on stage. Said to let you know she meant no harm."

Sam and Dean exchanged another look, this time with more suspicion. It wasn’t every day that someone recognized them as hunters and tried to make nice.

"She’s a witch," Dean muttered, finishing his beer.

"Maybe. Or maybe she’s something else," Sam mused. "We should find her."

As they exited the bar, the cool night air greeted them. The small town was quiet, save for the distant hum of cars. And then they saw her—Aurora, or Rory, as the bartender had called her—standing by the side of the road, her thumb out like a classic hitchhiker.

Dean nudged Sam. "Well, this is convenient."

They pulled up beside her in the Impala, coming to a halt before Dean rolled down the window. "Need a ride?"

Rory hesitated for a second, but then she smiled, an easy grin that made her look younger than she probably was. "If you’re offering, I won’t say no."

She waited and it was Sam who got out and opened the back door for her before she could take two steps towards the car, giving him a nod before she slid into the back seat, the air between the three was tense but not hostile as they drove into the darkness that enveloped them as the town behind them, shrank into a void. After a half hour of silence, Dean finally spoke up.

"So, you know who we are. Mind telling us who you are?"

Rory glanced at the brothers through the rearview mirror. "Rory and everyone in our world know who you are. Sam and Dean Winchester—the hunters who’ve saved the world more times than anyone can count."

Dean chuckled. "You sound like a fan."

"I’m not," she replied quickly, then softened her tone. "But I respect what you do. I’m not here to cause trouble."

"Why should we believe you?" Sam asked, turning slightly in his seat to face her.

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose with frustration. "If I wanted to hurt you, I would have done it in the bar. Or, you know, not paid for your drinks."

Dean smirked at that but kept his eyes on the road. "Fair point."

The drive continued in silence for a few more moments until they arrived at the small motel where the brothers were staying. As they all stepped out of the car, Rory extended her hand to Dean. "Truce?"

Dean hesitated before taking her hand. The moment their skin touched, Rory's eyes glazed over as visions flashed before her—Dean's entire life played out in front of her, kind of like a black and white silent movie, but before she could yank her hand free, his future came into focus. He was happy, finally settling down with someone he hadn't met yet. The image was fleeting, but it left her breathless.

Yanking her hand away, she shook her head to clear the vision, feet a little unsteady beneath her. Sam, noticing her reaction, grabbed her arm to steady her even as she tried to take a step back but it was too late, the moment he touched her, another wave of visions overwhelmed her—a life intertwined with Sam’s, a future with a son. Rory gasped, stumbling backwards, she tripped and fell against the car, chest heaving as she had just run a marathon.

"What the hell was that?" Dean asked, stepping closer, all signs of humor gone.

Rory took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, hands out in front of her, not wanting either one of them touch her. "I... I’m psychic, like your friend Pamela was, I am also a witch," she admitted, seeing no point in hiding it now.

"Psychic, huh?" Dean crossed his arms. "And what did you see?"

Rory bit her lip, considering her options. They were hunters—they’d seen worse. "Your future. Both of you."

Sam frowned. "And what exactly did you see?"

She looked between the two brothers. "I saw our lives intertwining for just a time.”

The weight of her words hung heavy in the air. Dean looked skeptical, but Sam... Sam was processing, trying to make sense of it all. What neither one of them knew what that she saw more than she was letting on. Dean would have to go through so much more before he found that girl, the one with the chestnut brown hair. All she had in that moment was a name, Beth.

It was what she saw with Sam. Why her? Why him? She knew how hunters were when it came to witches and it wouldn’t take anything more than what she’d just told him to know that all it would take was one bullet and any chance of her having a life beyond her own would be gone.

"You're telling us you’re psychic and you’ve seen our futures," Dean said slowly, his voice laced with doubt.

Rory nodded. "Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m saying."

The brothers exchanged a glance. Dean’s protective instincts kicked in, but Sam was more curious. "Why us? Why tell us this?"

"Because you need to know. Things are coming, big things. And I’m supposed to be part of it."

That night, Rory stayed with them at the motel, and in the morning, they decided to take her back to the bunker. The more they learned about her, the more they realized how valuable she could be in their fight against the supernatural.

For the next few days, Rory lived among them, sharing what she knew, helping where she could. But something was building between her and Sam, an undeniable attraction that neither could ignore but they were doing their best. She tried to not be in the same room with him, avoiding him as much as she could.

She was in one of the libraries, books strewn about the floor of the couch she was sitting on, when Dean poked his head in, letting her know he was making a food and beer run, letting her know he would get her favorite pizza before the words were even out of her mouth. Dean had become like that annoying older brother, in the short time she’d been with them, even if he could be a demanding ass, sometimes doubting things she said but so far, none of them ended up dead so she guessed she was doing something right.

“Sam, you’re lurking.” It hadn’t been more than twenty minutes later that she could sense him, just behind the doorway.

“Um was just wondering if you’d found anything out about that case?”

“Well, I know what it isn’t? We’re gonna have to go out there and see if I can pick something up when we talk to the sister. I am thinking it may be a shifter which can make hunting it a little more dangerous since we won’t be sure who is who until the last minute but I think you and Dean can handle it. But that isn’t the only reason you’re here, is it?”

Walking into the room, he sat on the edge of the couch, turning towards her. “I wanted to ask, the night we met you, you were hiding something, weren’t you?”

“Sam, don’t. I can’t go there right now, just know that the three of us? We’re supposed to be together right now. There will be a point where we won’t but until then, just let it be.”

“Rory, I don’t like it, not one God damn bit but I’ll let it go for now. Hey what’s this?” He reached out to take the book from her, his fingers grazing hers and it felt as if he’d been electrocuted, energy flowing through him from her, the walls he’d built crashing as if an earthquake had struck the bunker. What slammed into him was something so powerful, beads of sweat broke out along his forehead, desire pulsing through his blood. “Rory?” he whispered before jerking away from her.

She hadn’t expected him to touch her, it was the one rule she had, no touching, not because she thought they would hurt her but because even a graze of skin, sent visions swirling within her mind and the last time Sam had touched her, the vision of their son, was so strong, that when the connection ended, she was bed ridden for two days, fighting migraines and nosebleeds. Since then, she’d used a spell that kinda repelled them. Not in a “she smelled like a swamp rat” kinda way but just something that made them keep their distance. Why it didn’t work now, she had no clue. “Sam.”

His name from her lips was something he’d never heard before, a mixture of sadness and want, causing him to close the distance between them, lips finding hers as he picked her up, settling her in his lap, legs on either side of his, hands going up the oversized t-shirt she was wearing, groaning when he realized she wasn’t wearing a bra. His tongue delved into her mouth as he cupped her breasts, feeling her nipples pucker and grow hard beneath his palms, feeling his body vibrate as she moaned into his mouth.

She blocked everything out of her mind except the man beneath her. He tasted like warm honey against her tongue, wondering what he’d been drinking before he seeked her out. Her fingers dug into his hair, tugging just a little before she cupped his cheeks, feeling stubble beneath her palms. She knew what would happen if they had sex, she’d knew from the first night she met them, knew it would be more than once and that her belly would ripen with their son. Part of the reason she’d avoided him like the fucking plague. It should have stopped her but she didn’t want to. She wanted to feel alive, feel something other than fear. She ended the kiss long enough to pull her t-shirt over her head, dropping it to the floor behind her.

His hands slid under her ass, as he stood, carrying her towards his room, kicking the door shut with his foot before he laid her on the bed, stripping off his clothes before his hands, pulled her sweatpants off, chuckling at the pink panties with unicorns printed on them. “Cute.”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

Stretching out along side of her, noticing how short she really was compared to him. At 6’4”, he was a good foot taller than her but she fit so well against him as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, one hand, trying to pull off the now offensive unicorn panties. He could feel her move against him, her body now on top of his, making it easier for her to get them off, tossing them over her shoulder. When she sat up, he could feel warmth radiating from her against his hardness, long hair framing her face, his hands on her thighs, he wondered for a moment what she was thinking. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Are you?”

“Yes.”

Reaching between them, delicate fingers wrapped around him, stroking his hardness, feeling the veins that ran up and down the shaft before she moved down his body, the tip of her tongue swirling around the head, tasting the salt of pre-cum. Hands grabbed her forearms, dragging her back up, kissing her before she moved her hips, feeling him slide into her, both of them groaning. Sitting up, she moved her hips in circles as nails dug into his skin, head thrown back as his fingers dug into her thighs. She was chasing the high of her orgasm, feeling him buck against her, the tip of his cock, hitting that elusive G-spot, the orgasm creeping up on her before it receded, like a tidal wave that changed its mind. She was getting frustrated, body and mind not happy. Finally on an upstroke, she let go, the orgasm ripping through her, so intense, tears pricked the corners of her eyes, before she fell against him, needing a second or two to gather emotions around her like a cloak.

He held her close, stopping all movement, listening to the erratic breathing coming from her, pressing his lips to the top of her head, feeling the tip of her tongue run along his chest before she began moving against him once more. Sitting up, still holding her to him, he kissed her, his hips meeting hers, his release so fucking close, whispered words in his ear, “with me Sam” had him driving into her, both of the them coming at the same time, her name, his name, screamed out into the confines of his room. Again he held her to him, both of them taking deeps gulps of air, trying to calm themselves, but it didn’t last long, hearing Dean’s voice calling out for both of them.

“Shit, my shirts still in the library. Fuck.”

“Stay here, I’ll distract him, long enough for you to get to your room and change.”

Getting up, he kissed her one last time before he got dressed, running fingers through his hair, cracking his door open, letting Dean know he’d meet him in the kitchen.

She counted to ten, listening at the door, before she ran out of Sam’s room and to hers, locking the door behind her, she cleaned up, put on clean clothes and rushed back to the library, shoving her shirt behind the couch before joining them in the kitchen, all of them gorging on pizza and beer before they decided to hit the road come morning.

It was the morning after, that reality hit them both but there wasn’t time for regret, as the packed up their things in Baby and hit the road, stopping in some hick town for the night. Dean hit the bar after they ate, her and Sam, desperate to be alone, took advantage of Dean being gone, took the whole water conservation to a new level before climbing into bed, her passing out before him, made sure he was in the other bed before his brother got back.

Being kidnapped by Crowley, King of Hell, was not something she had intended on happening. The demons that ganked her, caught her off guard, as the boys were questioning the sister of the man who’d died four days ago. She didn’t get a chance to tell them that it hadn’t been a shifter but demons, knowing the trio would investigate and well here we fucking were folks, with her chained up like a piece of meat for slaughter. Crowley of course had his own plans for her, he didn’t want her dead, he wanted her, specifically he wanted her powers.

“Well didn’t I get more than I planned on.”

“Yea I guess you did.”

“Know what it is yet?”

“You know I do or you wouldn’t be gloating like an over fed cow.”

“Oh, come on now prat, don’t be mean. It’s interesting. The Moose is a hunter, you’re a witch and a psychic, think of the possibilities.”

“Let’s make a deal. You like deals, don’t you? I’ll give you my services for my son. Just give me five years instead of ten.”

“I’ll give you two.”

“Deal.”

When Sam and Dean finally found her, they were too late to stop the deal, but they were determined to find a way to break it, because this time, it wasn’t just about saving the world—it was about family, even if they didn’t know everything about the deal, devils in the details, right?

All she knew was this wasn’t over, not by a long shot, cause the Winchesters would do whatever it took to protect their own.

[k8lan06]

Haven't played the game, won't play the game, fuck the game.

The air is heavy and suffocating, feels wrong, like the walls are slowly closing in until they can't.

Ghost, Gaz and Prize sit in silence. The humming of the plane filling in the void, ghost has been staring at the seat where soap was sitting before the mission.

Price, lighting his 3rd ciggar, looking out the window trying to process what happened just hours prior.

And gaz, the closest to soap, it hasn't hit him yet he doesn't even know why he's crying, he's mad at himself but he doesn't know why.

One thing in common they're all dreading to think about.

You

Flash back

You're 4 months pregnant with soaps second child, you had found out a week before that it was girl but you were waiting to tell him in person. 'Too risky to call for your own safety lass.'

He told you on your third date after he opened up about being in the army, he thought you'd leave him but no, you insisted you stay by his side and he knew right then and there that you were the one.

When the team had gonna to the bar after finding Valeria and the missiles, he had one too many drinks when he let it slip

'Ay, got a missus at home, a wee lad too.' He slurred, drunk as hell.

Gaz a couple of days later asked again about soaps lover and especially about the kid.

'Aye Y/N and Oscar, sassy lil lad gets it from his mother, she reckons he's got my eyes.' He says rubbing the back of his neck.

End of flash back

Now here they are, the sun's setting, few people on the afternoon walk, couple of dogs barking in the distance while its sprinkling rain.

his dog tags neatly sitting in a small box. They can hear the little kid running a muck,

They all look at each other before price nods, taking off his hat and ringing the door bell before stepping back.

Oscar who's only 4 manages to open the door a little bit before you can answer, Oscar looks up at the 3 men, before smiling with a missing tooth.

"Hello." He waves at all of them, price smiles back and ask if there's anyone home. Oscar shakes his head yes before closing the door.

He calls out to his mother, you, as you're coming down the stairs

Scolding him for opening the door to strangers, you open the door and notice them standing there before bending down and whispering to Oscar to go to his room.

Ghost who's the first to notice the small bump on your stomach, followed after price then gaz,"Hello, may I help you?" You ask with a small smile, shifting your feet.

Price is the first to speak respectfully as he hands you the box with soaps dog tags and other trinkets, " 'm sorry, love"

You slowly start to connect the pieces before tears swelling up your eyes as you hold the box.

Gaz had been silently crying this whole time takes off his hat before walking up and down the drive way.

You slowly slide down against the door, tears flowing quickly down your face, you shake your head before a muffled sob escapes.

"Please no no, nonono oh god please." You scream, clutching the dog tags as you hyperventilate. This wasn't suppose to be like this, this wasn't suppose to happen.

Price feels the corner of his eyes start to tighten, he takes a deep breath before comforting you "im so sorry ma'am"