#the way the light is directly above him making the shadows on his face look like a skull in the second gif

[gf2bellamy]

Hi there!! Could you write about the moment Spencer realized reader was his everything? I think this sort of thing happens during a really mundane part of the day and it HITS him. Then shes staring at him, like, dude are you okay? I realize this is prob a bit vague but I trust you with this!! 

everything — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: established relationship, ( emotional ) fluff fluff fluff <3 a/n: hi hi ! i hope this is what you asked for :)

Spencer was sprawled across the couch, his long limbs draped carelessly over the cushions, his head resting against the armrest as his eyes scanned the lines of his book.

You watched him for a moment, your arms crossed as you leaned against the doorway, an amused smile tugging at your lips. It wasn’t unusual for Spencer to lose himself in a book, but even you had your limits when it came to late-night reading marathons.

“Spencer,” you dragged out his name, your voice laced with playful exasperation. “Are you done reading ? ”

He didn’t look up immediately, too engrossed in his book. You stepped closer, now standing directly above him, your shadow falling over the pages of his book.

Finally, he blinked, tilting his head back to look at you—upside down from his position—and his lips curled into that familiar, boyish smile that never failed to make your stomach flutter.

“Why?” he asked, though the teasing lilt in his voice told you he already knew the answer.

You pointed pointedly at the clock on the wall, its hands unmoved by his obliviousness to the late hour. “Because it’s 2 a.m., and I’m sleepy,” you said, punctuating your words with a gentle boop to the tip of his nose.

Spencer’s nose scrunched slightly at the contact, but his smile only widened.

Rounding the couch, you finally saw him the right way up, his hair slightly mussed from how he’d been lying. Without hesitation, you plucked the book from his hands, ignoring his half-hearted, protesting noise as you slipped the handmade bookmark—the one you’d gifted him after your second date—between the pages to save his place.

The memory of that day flashed in your mind—his surprised, delighted grin when you’d handed it to him, the way his fingers had traced the stitching. Even now, the sight of it nestled between the pages sent a warm rush through your chest.

Spencer had pushed himself upright, his long fingers flexing slightly in the absence of his book, but the moment you turned back to him, his feigned annoyance melted away.

Your fingers brushed against his, and he let you pull him up from the couch with ease.

“Let’s just go to bed, pleaseee,” you whined, pressing yourself against him in a brief, clinging hug, your face buried in the soft fabric of his sweater.

His arms wrapped around you instinctively, one hand smoothing over your back in a slow, comforting motion.

“Okay, okay,” he relented, his voice a low murmur against your hair.

With a reluctant sigh, he pulled away just enough to guide you down the hallway, his fingers still intertwined with yours, his thumb tracing absent circles over your knuckles.

The apartment was quiet, the only sound the soft shuffle of socks against hardwood as the two of you made your way to the bathroom.

Spencer flicked the light on with his free hand, the sudden brightness making you squint for a moment before your eyes adjusted.

“What were you reading, by the way?” you asked, leaning against the doorframe as he stepped inside.

Spencer’s lips quirked up at the question—not because it was unexpected, but because he loved that you always asked. Even when he rambled about obscure historical facts or complex scientific theories, you listened.

“Just rereading War and Peace,” he admitted as he reached for your toothbrush.

You snorted. “Pretty sure you say that at least ten times a week.”

He chuckled, squeezing the toothpaste onto the bristles before handing it over. “Twelve, actually,” he corrected lightly, though his eyes sparkled with humor.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at your lips as you began brushing your teeth, leaning into Spencer’s side for balance as exhaustion crept back in. Your eyelids fluttered, heavy with sleep, and you swayed slightly, your shoulder pressing against his arm.

Spencer watched you in the mirror, his gaze soft as he brushed his own teeth at a slower pace. A loose strand of your hair had fallen forward, dangerously close to catching a glob of toothpaste, and he reached over, gently tucking it behind your ear with careful fingers.

You caught his movement in the reflection and turned your head slightly, meeting his eyes in the mirror. With a mouth full of foam, you gave him the best toothpaste-grin you could muster—lopsided and ridiculous—and Spencer’s nose crinkled as he laughed around his own toothbrush.

And that’s when it hit him.

Crash was a better word.

His movements—those careful, precise motions he always made —stopped. Completely.

You barely noticed at first, too busy spitting out your toothpaste and rinsing your brush before leaning against him, your eyelids heavy with exhaustion. But Spencer hadn’t moved. His toothbrush hung limply in his hand, foam still in his mouth, his wide, honey-brown eyes fixed on your reflection in the mirror.

The love—raw and overwhelming—spread through him like wildfire, burning away every coherent thought. It settled in his chest, made his heart ache in a way that was almost painful. It wasn’t just affection. It wasn’t just comfort. It was the kind of love that terrified him, not because he feared it, but because it was so big—so all-consuming—that he didn’t know how to contain it.

You had practically closed your eyes by now, swaying slightly on your feet as you rested against him, but even in your half-asleep state, you noticed. Spencer always took longer to brush his teeth—meticulous even in the smallest routines—but this was different.

“Spence?”

Your voice pulled him from his trance. His gaze flickered to yours in the mirror-

Finally, he spit out the toothpaste, rinsed his mouth, and set his toothbrush down with deliberate slowness. Then he turned to you fully, his hands hovering at your waist like he wasn’t sure whether to pull you closer or memorize every detail of this moment.

“You—” His voice cracked. He swallowed, tried again.

Your eyebrows furrowed. “I what?” You reached up absently to straighten the collar of his shirt, your fingers brushing against his warm skin, but your eyes never left his.

Spencer exhaled, shaky and soft, as if the breath had been punched out of him. His hands finally settled on your hips, fingers curling lightly into the fabric of your sleep shirt.

There was a long silence. You didn’t rush him. You just rested your palms against his chest,.

And then, after a minute that stretched into eternity, he spoke.

“I love you.”

A smile tugged at your lips immediately, automatic, because this wasn’t new—this was a phrase woven into the fabric of your lives, whispered against skin and murmured in the dark, a truth as constant as the stars.

You opened your mouth to say it back, but Spencer wasn’t finished.

“Like so much,” he continued, voice rough with something raw. His hand slipped from your hip, trembling slightly as it cradled your face instead, his thumb brushing over the curve of your cheekbone with a reverence that made your breath catch.

“More than I’ll ever be able to put into words.”

His eyes—wide, earnest, devoted—searched yours, as if begging you to understand the depth of what he couldn’t articulate.

"Statistically, the human language has approximately 170,000 words in active use, but none of them—none of them—come close to..." His words trailed off as his brow furrowed in that particular way it did when his brilliant mind was racing faster than his mouth could follow.

His fingertips continued their delicate exploration of your face - tracing the curve of your eyebrow, the slope of your nose, the bow of your lip - as if trying to memorize you through touch alone.

When he spoke again, his voice was softer, more vulnerable.

"The human heart beats approximately 100,000 times per day." His thumb brushed over your cheekbone. "Mine...mine stutters every time you smile at me. And there are also roughly 37.2 trillion cells in the human body," his fingers ghosted along your jawline, "and I'm certain every single one of mine is wired to recognize you."

When he finished his small speech, he booped your nose gently, mirroring your earlier gesture.

But where your touch had been playful, his was trembling slightly.

You stared at him, any lingering sleepiness instantly burned away.

Just two minutes ago you'd been swaying on your feet with exhaustion; now you were wide awake.

"Spencer, what—" Your voice broke as you bit your lip, suddenly overwhelmed. The tears that had been threatening at the corners of your sleepy eyes now spilled over, tracing warm paths down your cheeks that his thumbs immediately moved to catch.

"I didn't mean to make you cry," he mumbled softly, a slight pout forming on his lips even as his own eyes glistened with unshed tears.

"Spencer Reid," you breathed between watery laughs, "you just made the most romantic declaration on earth and you expect me not to cry?" Your voice cracked as another tear escaped, this one catching on your smile.

His fingers followed its path, brushing against the curve of your lip where it had landed.

Your hands found their way to his wrists. "You literally calculated your love for me in cellular biology and cardiology."

"I was just stating facts," he murmured, that small, private smile playing at his lips - the one reserved for quiet moments and secret jokes between just the two of you. His thumbs continued their gentle sweeping motions across your cheeks, catching each new tear as it fell.

You brought his knuckles to your lips, pressing a kiss there.

"I'm not a genius like you," you admitted after a long pause, still trying to reconcile the enormity of what he'd confessed in your bathroom at 2 AM. "But I do love you so much it feels like..."

Your free hand came up to rest over his heart, feeling its steady rhythm beneath your palm. "Like every time you walk into a room, my whole body sighs in relief. Like my lungs remember how to breathe when you're near. Like..." You hesitated, searching his face. "Like if someone asked me to define home, I'd just say your name."

Spencer's breath caught audibly, his fingers tightening around yours almost imperceptibly. In the golden bathroom light, you watched as his Adam's apple bobbed. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough with feeling:

"That's...remarkably precise for someone who claims not to be a genius."

The quiet joke broke the tension, and you both laughed - shaky, tearful laughter that filled the small space between you.

"We should..." He gestured vaguely toward the bedroom, his usual eloquence failing him for once.

You nodded, squeezing his hand. "Yeah. Let's go to bed, genius."

And when he followed without hesitation, his fingers lacing through yours , you realized some truths didn’t need equations or calculations to be undeniable.

Love wasn’t measured in heartbeats or cells.

It was measured in this: in the way he reached for you, after baring his soul. In the way his shoulders relaxed the moment your head settled against his chest. In the quiet certainty that no matter how many late nights or early mornings awaited you both, he’d always be there—book in hand, heart in his eyes—waiting for you to pull him back to where he belonged.

[yoonjoongles]

Staying Awake with You

-> Pairing: Song Mingi x Y/n

-> Summary: On a sleepless night, Y/n finds herself sharing a quiet, intimate moment with Mingi, who shows up unannounced and in need of comfort. Y/n reminds Mingi that he won’t ever be a burden and that she’ll always be there for him—no matter the hour.

-> Word count: 1251

The soft hum of the overhead fan filled the quiet living room. The warm glow of fairy lights draped across the wall above the television gave the space a cozy vibe. Y/n sat cross-legged on the sofa with a steaming cup of tea cradled in her hands. She had always loved this time of the night—when the world seemed to calm down, the chaos of the day being left behind.

But tonight wasn’t like most nights. Tonight, Mingi was here.

He was sat on the floor in front of her, leaning against the sofa with a blanket wrapped tightly around his shoulders like a cape. He somehow managed to make himself appear much smaller than he was as he huddled closer to the blanket’s warmth. The glow from the lights cast soft shadows across his face, highlighting the pout of his lips and the tiredness in his eyes.

“Y/n/n,” he murmured, tilting his head so he’d be able to look at her. “You should go to bed. It’s late.”

She chuckled softly, taking a sip of her tea. “You’re one to talk. Aren’t you the one who came over unannounced at midnight saying you couldn’t sleep?”

Mingi’s lips twitched into a sheepish smile. “Okay, that’s fair. But you shouldn’t have to stay up and lose sleep just because I’m restless.”

“Don’t be silly,” she said, before placing her mug on the coffee table. “I want to stay up with you.”

His eyes widened slightly, and a soft blush could be seen creeping up his cheeks. “You don’t have to, you know? I’ll feel bad if you don’t get enough sleep and end up being tired tomorrow.”

Y/n reached down, gently tugging on the edge of his blanket. “Mingi, I’m doing this because I want to. Besides, it’s not every day I get to hang out with you like this. You’re always busy being an idol.”

The slight teasing tone in Y/n’s voice seemed to make him relax, and he gave her a lopsided grin before turning back to the television, where a random nature documentary was playing. The narrator’s voice filled the room as footage of small penguins waddling across an icy landscape appeared on the screen. Mingi pointed at a particularly clumsy baby penguin while laughing softly.

“Look at that one,” he said, voice warm and amused. “That’s me whenever our dance practices run late.”

Y/n burst out laughing, the sound echoing around the room. “You’re not that bad! If anything, you’re more like the penguin up front, the one leading the group.”

He looked up at her, his eyes sparkling with playful disbelief. “Do you mean to say I’m a natural-born leader?”

“Obviously,” she teased him again, nudging his shoulder with her foot. “The penguin king of the K-pop world.”

Mingi threw his head back, laughing in that unrestrained way that never failed to make her heart feel like it was wrapped in the warmest of hugs. His laugh was definitely one of her favourite things about him—it was loud, and it was contagious, and so uniquely Mingi.

As his laughter faded, Mingi leaned his head back against the couch, gazing up at her sweetly. His expression softened, the playfulness giving way to something quieter. “Thanks for putting up with me,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

Y/n frowned, leaning forward so she’d be able to meet his gaze more directly. “What are you on about?”

“Just…” He shrugged, pulling the blanket tighter around himself. “I’m aware, you know? That I can be a lot sometimes. Showing up at the weirdest hours, rambling about something random most of the time, always taking up your time when you probably have better things to do…” He trailed off, looking embarrassed.

Y/n’s heart squeezed at the vulnerability she heard in his voice. She reached out, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. “Mingi, I don’t ‘put up’ with you. I enjoy spending time with you. It doesn’t matter if it’s in the middle of the day or the middle of the night, you’re always welcome here.”

He blinked up at her, lips parting slightly as if he wanted to say something more but no words would come out. After a moment, he smiled—the softest, most genuine smile she’d ever seen from him and one that made her chest feel light.

“You’re too good to me, Y/n/n,” he said, his voice tinged with awe.

She shook her head, a grin tugging at her lips. “Nah, I think you might just have really bad taste in friends.”

Mingi laughed again, the tension in his shoulders easing bit by bit as he relaxed against the couch. “If that’s the case, then I’m glad I have terrible taste.”

The two of them fell into a comfortable silence, the documentary long forgotten as they simply basked in each other’s presence. Y/n reached for her mug again, the warmth seeping into her palms as she took a sip. Mingi, still sitting on the floor, leaned his head back, his eyes slowly fluttering shut.

For a moment, she thought he might have fallen asleep, but then she heard his soft and drowsy voice. “Y/n?”

“Hmm?” she hummed, her fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on the sofa’s armrest.

“Do you think the penguins ever feel lonely out there? On the ice.”

She cocked an eyebrow, caught off guard by his question. “I don’t know,” she replied thoughtfully. “But they’ve got their group, right? Their friends and family? They stick together, even when it’s cold and hard.”

Mingi nodded slowly, his eyes still closed. “I think that’s nice. Having people who’ll always stick with you, no matter what.”

Y/n smiled, reaching down to ruffle his hair gently. “You’ve got that too, you know. Your members, your fans…me.”

His eyes fluttered open, and he stared at her. There was something different in his gaze—something tender and unspoken. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I know that.”

The warmth in his voice made Y/n’s heart skip a beat, and she quickly looked away, pretending to be engrossed in the penguins on the documentary. But out of the corner of her eye, she could see the small, happy smile that lingered on his lips.

As the night wore on, Mingi eventually climbed up onto the couch, sprawling out like a giant cat and causing Y/n to laugh at how much space he took up, but she didn’t complain when he decided to rest his head on her lap, the blanket still comfortably wrapped around him.

“Are you comfy?” she asked, her tone lightly teasing.

“Very,” he mumbled, his voice muffled by the fabric of her pyjama trousers. “Don’t move. You’re a good pillow.”

Y/n simply rolled her eyes not really protesting, her hand instinctively coming down to run through his hair. The strands soft beneath her fingers, and she could feel him relax even more against her.

The documentary eventually came to an end, the television screen going dark except for the faint glow of the paused menu. Y/n glanced down at Mingi, only to realise that his breathing had evened out, his face peaceful as he finally managed to drift off to sleep.

She smiled to herself, leaning her head back against the couch. “Don’t be silly, Mingi,” she whispered, echoing her words from their earlier conversation. “I’ll always stay up with you.”

And as the first light of dawn began to creep through the living room’s curtains, Y/n closed her eyes, the warmth of Mingi’s comforting presence lulling her into a peaceful sleep.

All Rights Reserved © yoonjoongles // do not copy or modify my work in any way.

[emchante]

storytime seduction | m. verstappen

request: Mmm thinking about a storytelling stream w Max 🤭 he reads poetry or a smutty excerpt from a novel in that insanely hot Dutch accent, making flirty remarks here n there with those obscene low moans on purpose

softcore porn streamer! max

warnings: 18+/suggestive — minors dni.

request was sent by di!! can’t answer it as it isn’t in my inbox anymore, so the original ask is written above. so glad you guys are loving this au, because i love writing it! don’t forget to drop your thoughts in my inbox<3

you join the stream when you’re finally in bed for the night, and met with the usual display. max has a lazy grin on his face, the one that makes you both excited and terrified of what he has planned. the title had teased ‘story time with max’, which honestly left it quite vague.

you’re not entirely sure what to expect, but as soon as he leans back in his chair, holding a book up with an annoyingly suggestive smirk— your stomach twists.

max adjusts his mic slightly, leaning in as his deep, accented voice comes through like a warm caress. “alright, alright,” he says, opening the book up. he flips to the section he had bookmarked, and his other hand casually grips the hem of his tight tank top, lifting it slightly to scratch at his stomach. it’s a subtle move— but the flash of soft skin, the peak of his light happy trail— but it’s enough to send the chat spiralling.

“oh, this?” he asks, catching on and pulling the tank top higher, revealing his soft stomach with his large hand now splayed entirely across it. he watches the messages come in even faster as he exposes himself more, and he chuckles deeply before pulling it back down. “now, let’s set the mood.”

the lighting in his room is dim, soft and golden, casting just enough shadow to make the atmosphere feel.. intimate. he begins to read an excerpt from whatever erotica is in front of him, and it’s obscene how good he sounds. the words roll off his tongue like they were made to be spoken in that voice— low and rich with just enough gravel to send a rush of heat throughout your body.

“‘her breath hitched,” he reads, tone dipping lower as his lips quirk up into a slight smirk. “his touch—barely a graze— sent heat racing down her spine’,” he pauses, looking to the chat before pulling an innocent expression. “oh, too much? or should i keep going?”

that chat of course explodes, begging max to continue, spamming about how he knows what he’s doing— and the smirk on his face only grows as the chat begins to flood with pleas.

he laughs softly, the sound vibrating throughout your headphones and into your very soul. “okay, okay, you all asked for it.”

and then he’s back to reading the filth that he holds in his hands, drawing out the words like he knows exactly what he’s doing to everyone listening. his voice is velvet, dark and teasing, his dutch accent thickening around certain phrases— especially the more explicit dialogue.

you’re hyper-aware of every pause he takes, every low chuckle that escapes him when he sees chat losing its mind. when the writing starts to get more heated, he leans closer into the mic, and your skin prickles as if he’s speaking directly into your way.

“‘you like that?’” he reads, and then he turns his gaze towards his camera. he licks his lips slowly, tilting his head as he continues to stare for a few moments, before he turns to his chat. “hmm, i think i’ve heard that one before,” he teases, his grin downright sinful.

max shifts in his seat, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the edge of his waistband like he doesn’t realise what he’s doing. “‘her legs trembled as his hands slid lower, his fingers brushing the bare skin where her thighs met—’”

he breaks off again, this time with an obscene, low groan escaping his throat. “this is downright filth, isn’t it?” he asks, his hand moving from his waistband up to the back of his neck to scratch it, muscles flexing with the motion.

“‘her breath came in short gasps as his lips found her ear, whispering promises of what he’d do to her,’” he mimics it, leaning close to the mic and lowering his voice even further, eyes peering into the camera. “i could whisper to you too, you know. tell you exactly what i’d do if you were here.”

your breath hitches, heat flushing through you once more as his words seem to sink directly into your skin.

his hands trails back down his body again, thumb dragging itself across his chest and falling lower before brushing the line of his waistband again. “‘her body arched into him, begging silently for more— hmm, i should make you all beg for more, shouldn’t i? horny fuckers here to listen to me read you an erotic bedtime story,” he interrupts himself to tease the chat, licking his lips at the eager response.

“good girls,” he mutters, a deep heat flourishing from your core as the words do something to you— and evidently everyone else in the chat. “one last line. just for you.”

his voice dips even lower, barely above a growl now. “‘his hands slid under her thighs, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them. his mouth hovered over hers, his breath hot and heavy as he finally gave her what she had been waiting for.’”

max shuts the book with a snap, tossing it aside like it’s nothing. “well,” he says, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied smirk. “i think that’s enough for tonight. don’t want to ruin you completely, yeah?”

the chat is still spiralling— as are you— but max only winks, stretching in his chair as a sliver of stomach shows again. “sweet dreams, everyone,” he purrs, “try not to think of me too much.”

and then the stream cuts off.

⋆˙⟡ enjoy this? i hope you did! please come chat to me about it in my ask box! publicly or on anon— i’ll answer everything <3

[sweetheartsofpanem]

What’s Waiting Inside - Soft Thing Survive

Previous Part

warnings: this chapter is where the non-consensual sexual experiences are mentioned, they are more so vaguely insinuated but it is still an EXTREMELY heavy chapter. if needed, please take care of yourselves after reading.

i said the last chapter made me cry because i’ve put so much of my own feelings and experiences into Y/N but this chapter fucked me up beyond words. i had this chapter done a little while ago but took the time to write a fluffy fic to post directly after so i can link it to hopefully help with the pain from this😭

pairing(s): refer to series masterlist

word count: 2.33k

series masterlist | main masterlist

The laughter, warm and easy, still lingers in the air after the sun sets, but your smile feels stretched too thin now. Your tea has long since gone cold, cradled loosely in your hands, and the lights in the living room are too bright, too much for your overworked brain to handle.

You’re only half-listening to whatever Peeta’s saying about the summer crops. Katniss has drifted to the window, talking softly over her shoulder. Haymitch is leaned back into the couch beside you, arms crossed, a smirk ghosting his face at something Peeta just said. It should feel safe. It is safe.

But you can’t shake it.

That voice—her voice—is still rattling around inside your head, mean and sure and right, in the way that only things said to you in childhood can feel.

The only people stupid enough to love you are already dead.

You try to breathe around it, to will it quiet, but it festers. Your chest feels tight, your skin itchy with the weight of it. It makes you feel like you’re shrinking in your seat, folding smaller with every laugh that doesn’t quite reach you.

Haymitch glances over at you.

You look away too quickly, pretending to sip your tea, heart thudding like you’ve been caught doing something wrong.

You need to leave. Not in a storm-out kind of way—just… quietly. Before this feeling hollows you out more than it already has.

Katniss yawns from across the room, stretching her arms above her head. “It’s late.”

“Yeah,” Peeta says gently. “We should call it.”

They start gathering the last of the mugs and plates, and you stand on autopilot, thanking them in a voice that sounds almost like your own. Katniss studies you for a second, expression unreadable, when she hands you the balm you almost forgot.

Haymitch opens the door, letting you step out first into the evening air. It’s cooled just enough to carry the scent of damp earth. You pause on the steps, your house just across the way—so close—but your feet don’t move.

He steps down beside you, flask tucked into his pocket now, for once untouched.

You don’t look at him. “Do you mind if I…?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Just waits. Then, softer than usual, “What?”

Your hands are stuffed into the sleeves of your sweater. You force yourself to finish the thought. “If I came over. Just for a little while.”

A beat. Then, not unkind, “You scared of your own house, honey?”

You huff something like a laugh, but it doesn’t quite come out. “More like what’s waiting inside.”

He nods like that makes perfect sense.

Then he jerks his head toward his porch. “Come on, then.”

And you follow.

His front door creaks open, familiar in the way all worn things are. You’ve been here before—more times than you can count now—but tonight it feels heavier, like you’re stepping into something fragile.

The lights are low, casting soft shadows over the uneven floorboards and crooked shelves. The blanket you always end up wrapped in is draped over the arm of the couch again, like it’s been waiting.

Haymitch doesn’t say anything as you step inside. He just follows, kicking the door shut behind him with a quiet thud, and crosses the room to set his flask down on the side table.

You hover near the doorway for a second too long before finally sitting down at the far end of the couch. You pull the blanket over your lap and set the balm on his coffee table before shifting, lifting your legs to your chest.

He settles in the other corner, exhaling as he sinks into the cushions like they’ve betrayed him one too many times but he keeps coming back anyway.

“Thanks for letting me come over,” you say after a minute, quieter than usual.

He shrugs like it’s nothing. “You’re better company than my thoughts.”

You smirk faintly. “High praise.”

He glances at you sidelong. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

You fall into a quiet that isn’t uncomfortable—just tired. The kind that creeps in after a long day when your body is still humming with too much, and your mind is trying to make sense of it all.

Eventually, he asks, “You want to talk about it?”

Your voice is quiet when you answer. “I just… I hate when it sneaks up like that. One second I’m fine, the next—” You make a vague, helpless motion. “Not.”

He doesn’t answer right away. Just scratches at the back of his neck, then says, “That’s how it works, honey. Hits you sideways. Doesn’t mean you’re back at the start.”

You nod, swallowing hard.

He leans his head back, eyes on the ceiling. “You ever notice how the quiet feels louder when it’s in your own house?”

You nod. “All the time.”

He lets that settle, then says, “This one’s not so bad. The quiet here.”

You glance at him, then at the room around you. And strangely, you agree.

It isn’t.

Haymitch shifts, the couch creaking beneath him. “You ever miss it?” he asks suddenly.

You don’t have to ask what he means.

You look down at your knees. “Yeah,” you say. “Every day.”

“But…” you add, your voice softer now, “I miss it the way you miss something that hurt you. Like—yeah, it was familiar. But it only made everything worse. I don’t miss it enough to go back.”

He makes a sound low in his throat—agreement or understanding, maybe both. Then, more curious than accusatory: “How’d you quit? After five years?”

You take a breath, trying to ease the tightness that rises in your chest at the question. You haven’t said this out loud in a long time.

“Fiza’s mom,” you say. “She gave me my first drink when I was fourteen.”

He nods slowly, remembering. You’d told him that part once, under a sky full of stars and silence.

You swallow hard. “She died. Liver failure, or something close to it. I found her—barely breathing. She was in and out for a while, but nothing was enough to keep her alive.”

You trace the seam of the blanket in your lap with your thumb, grounding yourself.

“It scared me,” you say. “Not all at once, not like some dramatic wake-up call. But enough that I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I kept drinking after, for a few more months, because I didn’t know how not to. But every time I did, it felt like I was walking toward her death.”

He leans forward, elbows on his knees. “You ever think about drinking again? Like—really think about it?”

You nod. “More than I want to admit. But every time I do, I remember how hard it was to stop.”

He doesn’t say anything to that. Just picks up his flask, turns it over in his hand, and sets it back down again.

“I think,” you say slowly, “the worst part is that I still miss it even though it caused so many bad things. That it ever felt like comfort.”

Haymitch doesn’t look at you right away. Just leans back and taps his fingers once against his knee before asking, voice low, “What kind of bad things?”

You don’t answer at first. Your eyes blur as you stare down at the blanket, the seams warping under your gaze.

Your throat tightens. You press your lips together, trying to breathe through the sudden rush behind your ribs. His question isn’t harsh. Isn’t pushing. But it lands like a stone in your chest anyway.

You sigh, shaky and uneven.

“I…” You trail off. A tear slips down your cheek before you can stop it.

You swipe it away, but more follow, slow and silent.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Just waits.

Your voice, when it comes, is barely there. “I don’t think I ever said no.”

Another tear slides down.

“Not really. Not out loud. Not when I was that drunk.”

The weight of it fills the room.

Your hands tremble in your lap. You hate the way your voice shakes, the way your body betrays you when it’s spent so long staying calm. But the truth breaks loose anyway.

“I think they knew that,” you whisper.

And for the first time since you’ve known him, Haymitch doesn’t reach for sarcasm or a bitter joke to soften the moment.

He just stays there beside you. Quiet. Still.

And doesn’t look away.

The words hang there, too heavy to take back. And once they’re out, something inside you cracks—small at first, then all at once.

“I’ve never told anyone,” you say, voice trembling. “Not Peeta, not Katniss, not—”

Your throat closes. You press the heels of your palms into your eyes like that might stop the tears, but it doesn’t. They come harder now, shaky and silent, your shoulders curling inward as you try to hold yourself together.

“I let it happen,” you choke out. “I was too drunk to stop it, and I—I told myself it didn’t count. That it wasn’t bad enough to matter. That it was just my fault for drinking.”

Your whole body shakes, like the years of holding it in are finally catching up to you. You curl tighter beneath the blanket, arms around your legs like maybe you can disappear into yourself.

“It just kept happening. And I thought—I thought if I stayed drunk, I wouldn’t care. And if I got sober, I’d have to admit it. That they knew. That they didn’t care.”

You can’t look at him. Can’t bear the thought of what might be on his face.

But Haymitch doesn’t move. Doesn’t interrupt. His flask stays untouched on the table.

“I don’t know how to stop carrying it,” you whisper. “It’s like it’s sewn into me.”

A beat of silence stretches. Then you hear the soft shift of fabric as Haymitch leans forward. Not close, not crowding—just enough that you feel it.

“You didn’t let it happen,” he says quietly. “You survived it.”

Your breath catches on a sob you can’t swallow. You press your forehead to your knees, letting it out this time—really letting it out.

And still, he doesn’t move. Doesn’t flinch.

He just stays there.

Letting you fall apart without turning away.

You stay curled in on yourself, breath catching in uneven stutters as the tears keep coming, slower now but no less sharp.

For a long moment, you don’t say anything.

You’ve always handled it alone. Always bitten down on the pain and buried it somewhere deep where no one could see. But right now, your chest aches with the weight of it, and for once, you don’t want to carry it by yourself.

Your voice is barely more than a whisper, raw and cracked. “Can I…?”

You can’t finish the question. Can’t say the word out loud.

But Haymitch doesn’t need you to.

He shifts, the couch creaking as he moves closer. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t make it a big moment—he just lets his arm rest gently against yours, solid and warm.

And when you don’t pull away, he opens the space between you without pressure.

You lean slowly, carefully, until your shoulder presses into his side, and then your head lowers against his chest—so tentative it hardly counts as a touch at first.

Haymitch doesn’t say a word. Just wraps his arm around your shoulders in one slow, careful motion, his hand settling lightly on your upper arm.

His thumb moves in soft, steady circles—barely there, but grounding.

You don’t even realize how tightly you’ve been holding yourself until that moment. Until the contact sinks in.

You melt into him before you can think twice, like your body’s been waiting for this—like some part of you still remembers what it’s like to be held, even if the rest forgot long ago.

You press your face into his shirt, breath hitching, and it’s like something inside you unclenches. Like all the years of holding it together without help, without comfort, without anyone’s arms around you—start to slip, piece by piece.

You were fourteen the last time someone held you like this. Really held you. And back then, it was your father’s arms, the smell of coal dust and pine, the way he whispered, “I’ve got you, sweetheart,” while you sobbed into his chest because the world had already taken too much before it took him too.

You didn’t think you’d ever feel that again.

But Haymitch holds you steady now—silent, solid, sure—and the years between then and now fall away for just a minute. Long enough to remember what it’s like to not be alone inside your grief.

Long enough to feel safe.

Your breathing evens out eventually, though your face is still pressed against his shirt and your eyes feel swollen from the crying. The sobs have quieted, but the weight of them still lingers in your chest—raw and tired.

You don’t pull away. Neither does he.

His thumb keeps tracing lazy circles into your arm, like he’s not in any rush to stop. Like you don’t have to move just because the tears have stopped.

“Sorry,” you mumble after a while, your voice rough. “Didn’t mean to cry all over you.”

“Could’ve warned me,” Haymitch grunts. “I’d have worn the raincoat.”

You huff a weak laugh.

But still—you don’t move.

He doesn’t either.

“Seriously though,” you say after a beat, quieter now, “I don’t usually… do that.”

He nods. “Yeah. I figured.”

You shift slightly, unconsciously curling into him more. “I just—usually handle it on my own.”

He doesn’t say anything at first. Just lets the quiet sit between you again before murmuring, “Doesn’t mean you have to.”

Your throat tightens again, but you manage to hold it steady this time. His arm is still around you, warm and sure.

And for once, you don’t feel like running away from this feeling of safety. Like maybe Haymitch won’t run away now that he’s really seen you.

Next Part

[yuanology]

this is what being gojo satoru's weakness feels like—

the door to your apartment creaks open at precisely three in the morning; the witching hour. it's terribly fitting, you'd like to think, with how satoru has a tendency to flit in and out of your life with minimal warning, sporting new bruises and scars every time he comes back. it has become something you learn to expect, so you always leave the door open for him.

he says nothing when he approaches you, footsteps light against the hardwood floor, but he knows you are awake. you know that he knows this because the bedroom door soon slowly gets pried open as well and there is an added weight on the mattress next to you. satoru still says nothing, and you still pretend to be asleep.

after this, comes the following routine:

one, satoru will turn you slowly on your back (if you are not already on your back), and then he will;

two, sling his leg over your waist, moving to straddle you. his ass is flushed against your pelvis. after this, he will either do the following;

three, he will rest there, his hands either framing both sides of your face and pressed against your pulse over your throat and over the beating heart over your ribs. or, he will be impatient, desperate to wash away the thoughts of today's sins and he will directly move to;

four, grind his hips slowly, rolling it in a way that he knows you would enjoy if your eyes were open to watch him. here, he is always languid no matter what tension builds underneath his skin. oftentimes, you're already awake for this part, but you always allow him this moment of false privacy. after this, he will;

five, he will lean close, his mouth pressing open mouthed kisses over your throat and collarbone where the skin is visible from above the fabric of your shirt. here, is the part where he slowly lets himself get caught in the rush—all wandering hands and panted breaths and a kind of vulnerable boldness that he will never allow anywhere else.

this is where the routine ends. this is where you decide what you wish to do with the god begging for a glimpse of his own humanity in your hands.

your eyes will flutter open slowly, drinking in the sight of the moon's rays casting pale shadows all over satoru's skin. there is a halo borne around his head— creased and warped and ruined by the touches of the people who is supposed to take care of him. it is in this moment you will always realise the sheer gravity of your situation, the implicit trust pushed into your hands, the explicit faith he instills in your kindness.

"satoru," you murmur, soft and slow. your hands move to rest on his waist, never quite guiding him to move faster or to stop, merely ever grounding him into the moment. "what do you need?"

because this arrangement is never about what you want, only ever about what he needs. because you only ever want him to feel safe, and he only ever needs you to make him human.

for a moment, you are almost certain that satoru will say nothing. this has happened before in the past, when satoru will climb into your bed wreathed in the shadows of the early morning and he will say nothing as he allows you to guide him through his own thoughts. during these moments, you must always treat him with utmost care; fine porcelain and delicate china designing the bones and structures that crafts the body of the god the shaman world reveres so cruelly.

but tonight is not one of those nights.

he blinks at you slowly, like a cat, like a ghoul, like a boy reawakening from a day filled with haze. he whispers your name, his voice hoarse as if unused. your hand inches higher, moving up to rest on his sides, feeling the rise and fall of his ribs accompanying each of his breath.

"satoru," you try again, because you are relentless when it comes to satoru. because for a man who saves so many people so many times, people rarely ever come around to save him. "look at me, sweetheart. what do you need?"

his breath shudders, his eyes falling shut. he leans forward, his face finding itself a home where it is buried in the crook of your neck. his response is soft, quiet, nearly inaudible if you are not listening to him. but you are always listening, because satoru always has something worth saying and no one else will listen to him.

"please," he murmurs, and you can feel him falling apart in your arms in real time. "just take it all away."

and your heart breaks a bit for this man, because you know what this entails. because you know what it means when he wants the world to be stolen clean from his hands.

"alright," you say in response, your nails digging into to scratch at his back. welts immediately begin to bloom all over his skin, but satoru is shuddering in your embrace and you already know that it is the right thing to do. "get on your knees. i want to fuck your face."

satoru scrambles quickly to comply. he slides off of you like oil off ice, even when infinity is nowhere to be found, and he gets off the bed. he moves to kneel on the floor instead, over the soft carpet that you had installed after you realised how much satoru liked simply staying on his knees, simply lazily sucking you off as he allows himself to drift off and away from all of his own thoughts. you shuffle to the edge of the bed, sitting with your legs parted so that satoru can move to settle in between them.

his hand moves to your thigh, a visible swallow tracking a long line along the column of his throat. "may i?" he whispers, his tongue darting out to lick at his lower lip. satoru blinks up at you with wide eyes, pleading at you as if he is afraid of being pushed away, and there is a part of you that wants to cry for him.

but you don't. instead, your hand finds purchase in his hair, running through the soft strands, and you tell him, "go ahead, baby." because there is nothing better than you can do for him than this.

he smiles at you; none of that bright as the sun grins that he would give to the rest of the world. no, this one is more muted, desaturated, but no less genuine. this is gojo satoru at his softest moments, at his most honest. you follow his guidance as he gently manoeuvres you so that he can pull off your pants and boxers.

when you are once again situated on the bed, the both of you finally comfortable and pleased by the situation, does satoru begin to lean in. it starts slow, at first; kitten licks on your tip as his head begins to bob. he takes in your length slowly, bit by bit with all the hesitance of a virgin.

you both know better, though; all of this is part of a show, the one where satoru acts all innocent and boyish and oblivious so that you can take him by his hair and teach him how to take you properly. it's the same game you have been playing with him since the day you first took his virginity.

"is that all you've got?" you murmur, your voice mocking in that now familiar lilt that always spurs satoru on. this time is no different as he keens around your cock in his mouth, pulling off so that he can pout at you with pretty pink, spit-slick lips.

"i don't—" he cuts himself off with a soft whine, his knees shuffling forward so that he can get closer to you. you cup the back of his head in appreciation, twisting a strand of his hair between your fingers in a subtle act of approval. satoru immediately goes lax, all of the tension accumulating on his shoulders finally bleeding out as he simply looks up at you with wide, lost eyes.

"you're too big," he tells you, a familiar script. the corners of your lips twitch; into a frown or a smile, you could no longer tell. "i don't know if i can take it."

"shh, baby." this one is a little different, but the glaze in satoru's eyes at the sound of your falsely-comforting words is all the same. "don't you want to be my good boy?"

"yeah," he breathes out. he shifts closer, always so eager. "wanna be your good boy."

you hum, tapping the head of your cock on his lips. "then open your mouth, and take what i give you like a good boy, alright?"

it's easy, after that. satoru no longer plays any games. instead, he lets his jaw drop open easily, his lips parting to take in your cock. you slide yourself into the velvety warmth of his mouth inch by inch, watching his face swiftly acquire that dazed, fucked out look as you stuff him full on your cock. pretty, you think to yourself as you stroke his hair gently.

"see," you whisper, bending over so that your mouth was hovering over the shell of his ear. "you can take it. good boy."

satoru whimpers around your cock, nearly choking on it as he does, but his eyes are rolled back to the back of his skull already, and you know he's most pliant like this. you straighten as you push yourself off the bed to stand properly. the change in angle has the tip of your cock meeting the back of his throat, and you both let out a choked moan at the feeling.

you look down at satoru, your hand tightening its grip in his hair in warning. "i'm gonna fuck your throat," you tell him again, a second warning, and you begin to thrust into his mouth shallowly. "and you are going to take it, yeah? you're gonna be so good for me, won't you, baby?"

if this isn't what he wants, satoru knows that this is the time to push you off. just three repeated taps on your outer thigh and you will pull off immediately. you don't want to hurt him, not when he is already hurt so often.

but satoru's eyes meet yours, summer seas filled with determination, and his hands only move to cross behind his back, wrist caught in his hand. like this, he looks like the perfect image of subservience. no longer gojo satoru, the god, but rather simply satoru, a boy eager to please.

you roll your hips once, twice, experimentally to gauge out satoru's reactions. when he lets out a low moan, a muffled consent, your hand temporarily leaves his hair to thumb at his slick lips, drool slipping out of the corners of his mouth, leaving a mess all over his face.

"keep your eyes on me, pretty boy," you tell him, your voice low and heated. "i want you to watch me as i make a mess out of you."

satoru makes an aborted motion, the familiar buffered movements of a nod interrupted, and you smile. your precious satoru is always so damn eager to be good for you, to be good to you, that you can't help but wonder if perhaps this is your greatest blessing or a premonition for something worse.

your hips rear back, and you fuck into his mouth in earnest.

satoru's eyes immediately widen at the feeling of your cock filling up his mouth at rapid speed, the head bumping the ridges of the back of his throat. a high whine slipped out of satoru, the sound watery as it was muffled by your girth.

your hand once again finds purchase in the soft strands of his hair, but you no longer card at it gently. rather, you gripped at it; holding him upright by only his hair as you use it as leverage to make his head meet your every thrust.

choked, garbled sounds escaped satoru's throat, and you kept the sound of your own groans and moans to a minimum so you could enjoy the sound of satoru's aborted attempts at telling you how good you felt. satoru has never been quiet, not when you are involved, and even as you fuck his face, he will always, always try to tell you how good you're being to him.

"you look so pretty like this, baby," you coo, your voice breathless. "so goddamn gorgeous."

and satoru is. he's so beautiful, even out of bed, casted by rays of sunlight, untouchable in the daylight, but there is something almost otherworldly in the beauty he emits when he is yours. because here, on his knees, satoru is a different sort of gorgeous—he is stripped of his godhood, of his title, of his crown, and he is reduced to being just your good boy, your pretty, pretty satoru, your satoru. no matter how briefly, no matter how ephemeral.

but that isn't the most important factor in what makes him look so ethereal. no, it's the fact that for a man forced to be on his knees, satoru never once looks out of place. he looks up at you, long lashes revealing summer blue, and there is a dazed smile on his lips even where it is being wrapped around your cock prettily. it's the fact that gojo satoru, for all his pride and arrogance, will always willingly get down on his knees for you and he will enjoy having your presence be lorded over him. because satoru, your satoru, knows that you are his just as much as he is yours.

even on his knees, even when he is relinquishing all power into your hands, he still conquers.

fucking beautiful.

satoru constricts around you when you shift the angle ever so slightly to reach deeper into his throat. for a moment, you almost falter as you watch his hands closely. but they don't move, remaining where they are positioned behind his back, and you take that as your cue to keep things going at that steady pace.

tears begin to cloud satoru's beautiful eyes, clouds dotting at warm, clear skies, and you have to stop yourself from fucking him deeper, fucking him rougher, because even satoru has his limits and your job is to bring him to those limits, but never beyond those limits.

the sight, however, admittedly brings you close to your high. you feel warmth beginning to pool in your gut, steadily building as you guide his mouth to take you in further, deeper, until there is a bulge forming in his throat, matching the shape of your cock.

satoru keeps his eyes on you the entire time, the good boy that he is, and you know that he can see that you're close, because he starts doubling his effort. no longer does he simply take you, he begins to hum around your cock as well; the vibrations sending electric thrills running up his spine. low pants begin to escape your lips as you tug at his hair.

he whines.

"i'm gonna cum in your mouth," you tell him, feeling yourself getting closer and closer. "and you're gonna swallow it all like a good boy, is that right?"

satoru's eyes glaze over, and he moans around your cock. you feel your composure breaking, your movements growing erratic. with the purchase you have in his hair, you bring his face close to your hips until his nose is buried in your pelvis, nestled amongst your happy trail, and you're spilling down his throat.

satoru fucking swallows it all like a goddamn champ. he doesn't even struggle, choking on it at first but quickly finding rhythm like the damn prodigy that he is. he keeps his eyes trained on you the whole time, you know he does because you can feel the burn of his gaze on your skin even as you tip your head back, a guttural moan escaping your lips.

you make him stay like that for a moment longer, choking on your cock and your cum, before you finally pull out. his lips were shiny with spit and dribbles of cum, his eyes still glazed over by pleasure and tears, his face looking like a fucking mess and his hair sticking up in every direction.

"come here," you say as you fall back onto the bed, and he scrambles to follow.

he climbs into your lap and his lips are on you immediately, his hands scrambling to pull you closer to him. satoru's actions are filled with anxious energy, one that you recognise immediately. this is beyond just his desperation to feel you close to him after you've fucked his throat, this is satoru seeking repentance.

"what," you start, your head still feeling light. "what'd you do?"

"i'm sorry," satoru rasps out quickly, sounding so guilty that you can't help the frown that creases your expression. it's the wrong thing to do because the anxious energy increases and satoru is scrambling closer to you, hands grabbing onto your shirt. "i'm sorry, i didn't—"

"satoru," you say, not reprimanding, simply grounding, as you force him to still by grabbing his hips. "what happened?"

satoru swallows, looking at you with lost eyes. "i didn't mean to cum," he whispers. "i'm sorry."

for a moment, your head is entirely empty. satoru is still gnawing his lower lip nervously as he looks at you, watching you, anticipating your next move. but you honest to god can barely even think because you were watching satoru the entire time. his hands were behind his back and he barely even grinded against the floor, so how could he have—?

your hand moves to cup him, your thumb brushing over the wet spot. satoru stiffens, even as a weak whimper escapes him. "i'm sorry," he tells you again. "i didn't mean to."

fuck.

"it's okay, baby," you tell him hurriedly. your hands move to cup his face, feeling your brain come back to life. you wipe the tears out of his eyes, the clouds once again clearing to reveal cerulean blue. "i never told you that you couldn't cum. it's alright, baby. you did a good job."

he sniffles. "i'm still your good boy?" he asks, his voice so quiet that your heart breaks for him.

"yeah." you press a kiss to the top of his head, wrapping your arms around him to hold him close. "you're still my good boy."

and satoru is looking at you now with wide, guileless eyes, looking so much like a lost boy that you feel something splinter within your ribs. how terrifying it is, how something so seemingly simple can destroy satoru in an instance.

you tilt your head back, gently slotting your lips over his in a delicate kiss. there is none of that earlier hunger in the way you kiss him now, merely a softness that makes satoru loosen even if he does not melt yet in your arms.

just as he always is after an orgasm, satoru is pliant as you guide him onto your bed. you kiss him slowly as you take his clothes off, cleaning him of his sweat and drool and cum, before you redress him in a loose t-shirt and a pair of well-loved sweatpants that you had tucked away in your closet just for him.

once the both of you are clean, you situate yourself in bed next to him. your arms come to wrap around satoru where his face is tucked into the crook of your neck, your legs tangled as you hold him close to you. with this proximity, you can feel the way your heartbeat aligns with one another; beating the same rhythm, slow and steady and alive.

he mumbles your name into the silence, looking hesitant and shy all at once. "i'm still your good boy, right?" he asks you, his voice quiet as if he's afraid of the answer.

you swallow past the lump in your throat, distracting the momentary silence by leaning your faces close to each other; foreheads pressed together, noses brushing against each other. "always," you tell him, because it's true. "i'm glad you enjoyed yourself, baby."

and then, and only then, does satoru allow himself to go lax as if he finally believes you. he sinks into the warmth of your embrace, his eyes sliding shut at long last when you press a kiss to the side of his head and tuck him close to you.

because—

because there's a delicate line you have to toe when you're dealing with one gojo satoru; too much of something and you will crush him entirely in your hands, too little of something and he will believe that you do not want him anymore. satoru is a delicate game to play, a fragile person beneath all of his strength and glamour who simply yearns for a person to see him and hold him.

this is what it's like to be gojo satoru's weakness; in your hand resides to power to make and break a god, a boy, a lover.

[rainychaoloveshack]

Shadow x Fem Reader and it’s their first date❤️

ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ ☂︎ ⋆ ﾟ𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫. 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐡𝐨𝐠.

it’s you and shadows first date. are you ready?

⋆°•☁︎ content . shadow x gn!reader, fluff, mentions of light friends/acquaintances to lovers, shadows a lil nervous huehehe and so is reader

☂︎ wc. 1.2k ☂︎ a/n. THANK YOU FOR YOUR REQUEST! this was so cute to write murhehehe i still feel like i could’ve done a lil better but i hope you like it regardless ^^’

likes, reblogs, and especially comments are extremely appreciated!!! (i like chatting to you guys!)

Soft jazz music from the restaurant already rings out from outside, mingling with the hustle and bustle of the street, a bell chiming above your head as you push open the glass door with your palm. Luckily, your date seems to stand out compared to everyone else here; or is it just the light that’s making him look so charming?

Ah, look at you. Smitten. It’s already too late to try to shake off any nerves; he’s already seen you from afar. You hope he hasn’t been waiting too long; you did get here on time after all. Would it have been better if you two met before the reservation? Dates are so hard.

“You…” Shadow trails off as you trot up to him, brushing some imaginary dirt off your outfit as you try not to look him directly in the eyes. First impressions were never your strong suit, especially with someone as stern as Shadow. Well, not that it’s your first time meeting him, but in such a romantic setting like this; butterflies are rising and fluttering around your stomach. “You look lovely.”

You could’ve sworn a butterfly made its way out of your stomach and into your mouth as you uttered a small ‘thank you’, your voice almost trembling at the last syllable. Being this nervous in front of someone you’ve known for a while now is an odd feeling.

“Come on, sit.” He gestures to the seat across from him, strangely fidgeting with his gloves. “I… I hope the place isn’t too much.”

Fancy for a first date, sure. It’s not your first time hearing of this place either; Rouge must’ve recommended it to him.

So she’s playing both sides? She was the one who recommended you to ask him out anyhow, so she must’ve known that he would’ve said yes. That sly bat. But it still shocks you even now that he did say yes to your little proposal…

Breaking out of your thoughts, you glance away from the seemingly entrancing patterns in the rug, eyes flickering back up to Shadow, who's looking down at his clasped hands. He notices your gaze rather fast and clears his throat. “Is something wrong?”

Shadow’s been strangely silent. More so than he usually would be around you. Not that you two talked very often, but every time you met there was always at least some light chatter and banter between you two, sometimes a heartfelt moment and long conversation. Maybe you two are closer than you thought. 

“It’s just that I’ve never been on a date before.” Shadow scoffs. “It’s nothing special.” But it looks like he’s more than eager to change the topic.

He can’t handle a simple date? The Ultimate Lifeform, ready to fall over and fold? You cup your cheek, rubbing the tips of your fingers over your cheekbone. It’s a struggle to kill the cheeky smile on your face; joking around with Shadow has always been fun, and your nerves decided it was time to spill out a joke anyway. But maybe it was wrong to let one fly in this situation?

Shadow growls, baring his teeth briefly before he tries his best to defend myself. “Shut your-” He catches himself mid-threat, clearing his throat as he rips his gaze away from you. “Nothing. Nevermind.” He mutters, his shoulder stiffening under your curious gaze. It looks like he’s scared of offending you, but it’s not like you two haven’t joked around like that before. Is it the restaurant? The way you look?

“It’s not you,” Shadow says sternly, firm in his answer. “It’s me; I just feel strange talking to you like this; in this setting.” He mutters, staring down in his gloved hands. “I’m not used to this; this feeling. I don't-” A grimace forms on his lips as he meets your eyes again. “-date around. With anyone. I don’t mess around with feelings like that, so…” Shadow trails off, worried he might’ve said something wrong once your head cocks to the side slightly. “Not that I’m opposed to, I just don’t have experience with those… Things.” He finishes, attempting to hide his embarrassment by clearing his throat, but his ears tell another story. The way they’re twitching here and there as you shuffle in your seat, noticing every small movement as you fidget with the neckline of your outfit.

“...After dinner, do you want to walk around Station Square? If you’d like, we could take a train down to the nearby plaza.” He mutters quietly, his ear flicking in your direction as he waits for your answer to his proposal this time.

…You’d like that a lot.

Crickets chirp along the flowerbeds and bushes as your shoes click against the pavement, trailing behind Shadow’s own steps in an attempt to catch up to his stride. It was already so late, but you two caught one of the last trains here. Now the problem present is on how you’ll get home, but you’re with Shadow. Something’ll come up.

Plus, to see Shadow so relaxed after his tenseness at the restaurant makes your mood lighten to match his. Not much conversation has happened with you two for the past hour, but it’s peaceful. It’s sweet.

He’s so sweet. Like candy… No, not quite candy. It's more like a dessert. What dessert would fit him?

“Is there something on my face?” Shadow points to himself with his thumb, cocking his head at your gaze constantly on him. To hide the embarrassment, you shake your head and come up with some lie about you zoning out; not that it’s fully a lie, but the bigger reason that you were staring at him is just to admire him. But that’s weird to say, right?

Right…

“Tch.” He grumbles, his body straightening out once he realizes he’s being too harsh. “... You know, if-” Shadow cuts off his own voice, noticing a small blink of light near your head, around the same time that you notice it yourself.

Oh.

“It’s just some fireflies.” Shadow’s lips part softly, watching the firefly buzz and flutter around your shoulder. You cup it into your hands, brushing your hip against Shadow so he can see the insect clearly within your palm, blinking its light up at the two of you. How cute. Little lightning bugs…

“I didn’t mean to mess this up.” Your eyes rip away from the bug, instead grazing over to his figure, his arms crossed with his finger tapping repeatedly on his arm. “I had fun.” His head’s turned to the side to not meet your gaze, somewhat ashamed of his behavior. You don’t blame him for it; it’s not like you weren’t nervous too. But not a single thing was ruined about it; he didn’t have to apologize at all.

“If you’d like,” he murmurs, clutching your hands within his own as your little lightning flies away to join the others fluttering around you both. His thumb brushes across your fingers and palm, feeling every groove and digit. “I’d like to do this with you again. I think I’ll be better at handling it next time.”

You’d like that too. A lot. Maybe those butterflies in your stomach won’t be as bad next time, but their wings are still brushing against the edges of it, threatening to spill out from your mouth even now. 

[writingpandagoth]

Hiii!!!! Can you do one sev×fem reader in wich again she is James' little sister, but he truly loves her sis.

So when she arrives to Hogwarts, Severus see her as an opportunity to get revenge over James for being his bully, so he and yn start a secret relationship but he treats her so bad and James doesn't know what is happening with her sis; eventually severus realize that he indeed loves her and it's up to you if it ends up good or bad, pleaseeee

I think that I requested something like this, but I can't remember if I asked it or not. Either way, I love love LOOOVE ur writing

So yeah you did requested it already but no worries!

I had quite mixed feelings about this if I am honest.

I was struggling to see just where this could lead and I couldn't quite get close to Severus being abusive. Even if its not physically. Also I felt like if Severus would have been bad to Reader it would later make the bullying worse.

So I thought about it and suddenly I had this thought:

What if he actually does the opposite?

Well here it is and warning: It's a lot.

I hope you still Like it even if I kind of twisted it around a little.❤️

Safety Net

The Great Hall buzzed with the usual breakfast chaos. Owls swooped overhead, plates clattered, and somewhere down the table, Sirius was hexing Remus's pumpkin juice to leap from his goblet.

You sat beside James, buttering toast with sleepy precision. He watched you struggle for a moment, then laughed and stole the knife from your hand.

“Hopeless,” he said, spreading the marmalade smoothly.

“Bossy,” you shot back.

He grinned and shoved the finished toast back at you. “You’re welcome.”

From across the hall, unseen by either of you, Severus Snape watched.

He sat alone at the Slytherin table, untouched porridge congealing in front of him. His black eyes flicked between you and James—the effortless closeness, the unguarded smiles. Bitterness twisted inside him, familiar and sharp.

James Potter. Always the hero. Always the adored.

Severus’ gaze lingered a moment longer before he forced himself to look away.

Later that day, in the shadowed corridors near the dungeons, Severus found himself face-to-face with the Marauders. Like it had been the past years.

James and Sirius, laughing about some prank, spotted him rounding the corner. Their expressions shifted—wolfish, sharp.

“Morning, Snivellus,” James drawled, stepping directly into his path.

Severus stiffened, grip tightening on the books in his arms.

“Off to another thrilling day of potion-brewing and sulking?” Sirius added, smirking.

James flicked his wand lazily. Severus’ books flew from his grasp, pages scattering across the stone floor. Another flick—his satchel tore open, ink spilling in a dark pool.

Laughter echoed down the hall.

Severus bent down quickly, gathering his things with shaking hands. His face burned—not just from humiliation, but from the sheer helpless rage twisting inside him.

James ruffled his already-messy hair, as if Severus were some misbehaving pet.

“Careful there,” he said cheerfully. “Wouldn’t want you slipping in your own slime.”

They walked away without a second thought, leaving Severus kneeling amidst the wreckage.

He remained there for a long moment, ink staining his fingers, heart hammering against his ribs.

--

That evening, you accompanied James down to the Quidditch pitch. He was gearing up for practice, broom slung over his shoulder.

“You’re not staying,” he warned, eyeing the storm clouds gathering above.

“I’ll watch a little,” you insisted, stubborn.

He sighed but smiled, ruffling your hair affectionately before jogging onto the field.

You found a spot near the stands, scarf wrapped tight around your neck. A few other students lingered, including a Ravenclaw boy you vaguely knew from Charms.

He struck up a conversation—light, harmless. You laughed politely at something he said no longer focused on the practice going on. 

High above, James spotted you. His broom dipped sharply as he veered toward the ground.

Moments later, he landed with a thud and crossed the grass toward you, chest heaving.

“Hey,” he said, too casual. “Ready to head back?”

You blinked. “I was waiting for you to finish.”

James wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulling you to his side while pointedly glaring at the Ravenclaw boy. "I am done now."

The boy made himself small and proceeded to make a polite excuse and wandered off. You narrowed your eyes at James.

“You’re unbelievable,” you said.

“Better safe than sorry,” he replied, grinning sheepishly.

Despite your exasperation, you fell into step beside him, the argument forgotten before it even began.

From the far edge of the stands, Severus watched, a plan forming in his head.

If he could make you his—if you chose him—James would never dare touch him again.

And thats how it all started.

--

The library was nearly empty by the time Severus spotted you, alone at a back table, a halo of afternoon sun catching in your hair as you flipped through a worn potions text.

He’d been watching, studying you, for days now just observing. Learning your patterns. What you liked and what you didn’t. 

You liked to study in the back corner when the tower light got too warm. You hummed when you concentrated. You sometimes chewed your quill.

 You weren’t like James — loud, smug, always needing attention. You weren’t like the rest of the school who only saw what they were told to see. You were... still. And honest.

You noticed people and that was what made this whole plan dangerous.

If he played this wrong now and you sense something off, everything falls apart. So he didn’t storm in. He waited, breathed, composed.

“That edition’s missing the revised belladonna compound,” he said, calm and even, gesturing to the page you were annotating.

You looked up, startled for only a second not having noticed him walk up to you. Then you blinked, glanced at the book, and back at him. “Really?”

He nodded once. “Page two-thirty-seven. It misstates the interaction with dittany. If you write that on Slughorn’s exam, he’ll dock you.”

You eyed him, not hostile, not flustered.

“You’re Snape, right?” you asked, voice casual.

He didn’t smile — not fully — but there was something in his face that softened.

“Severus.”

You tilted your head. “Severus,” you repeated. Not mocking. Just saying it properly.

He studied you.

“Most people don’t bother,” he said.

“With?”

“Saying my name right.”

You shrugged. “Well most people are idiots.”

He paused. That was new.

She was warmer than he expected.

Good.

This would be easier than he thought.

“You’re James’ sister.” he said. Not accusatory — just observant.

You rolled your eyes. “That obvious?”

He arched a brow. “Not if you ignore the confidence and inability to leave a sentence unsaid.”

You grinned. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Severus hesitated

“Do you mind?” he asked motioning to the empty seats.

You shook your head, intrigued more than anything. “Not at all.”

 He nodded before he sat besides you, just enough distance to seem respectful, just close enough to say: I chose this seat.

The two of you read in silence for a while. Occasionally, he offered a correction. Once, you passed him your notes to compare formulas.

It wasn’t much.

But it was enough.

The space between you wasn’t wide, but it felt... safe. He didn’t crowd you. He didn’t stare. After some time of silent studying, he turned slightly toward you, taking’ you in, his posture more open, as if he wanted to be close but wasn’t sure if he could be.

“Rough day?” he asked, noticing the slump of your shoulders.

You exhaled, giving a tired smile. “Charms today was...hard. I don’t want to talk about it.”

He nodded. “Understood.” A pause. “I’m terrible at Charms too.”

You turned, surprised. “Really?”

He gave a half-shrug. “I can do them. But I don’t like people watching me. Or expecting something impressive.”

That landed heavier than expected. Not in a dark way — just honest. Vulnerable.

You offered a soft smile. “I get that.”

He looked down at his parchment, then back at you. “You’re easy to be around.”

That made you blink. “That’s a... weird compliment.”

“It wasn’t meant to be,” he said. “I just meant... you don’t send me away like most people do.”

He offered a small, almost bashful smile — the first you’d really seen from him.

“I’m not very good at this,” he added. “People. But I like being here. With you.”

It hit something soft in your chest.

You nodded slowly. “You are not so bad. It has been quite nice having you here.“

And just like that, the silence between you changed — not heavy, not awkward. Just full of something new. Something careful. Warm.

Severus leaned in slightly, voice low. “If you ever need someone... to study with. Or not talk to. Or just... sit with... I’d be here.”

That, more than anything else, made your throat tighten. You smiled. Genuinely. “Okay.”

And for the next hour, you went back to your books and parchments side by side in quiet. Every so often, your elbows brushed. And he never once pulled away.

--

The courtyard was unusually still.

You clutched your books tighter as you crossed the stone path, the chill of the autumn air biting at your fingertips. 

You were on your way to the library when voices caught your ear — sharp, mocking, too familiar.

You slowed your steps, your stomach sinking.

There, by the fountain, Remus stood on the side looking somewhat guilty at the scene but not doing anything to stop it.

James and Sirius stood half-circled around a figure you instantly recognized — Severus Snape. His posture was rigid, arms crossed defensively, jaw tight. James twirled Severus' wand between two fingers, a lazy smirk playing on his lips.

"Come on, Snivellus, grow a pair and get it back." Sirius was laughing while James kept taunting Severus "Or maybe if you ask nicely on your knees I might have mercy."

Severus said nothing. His silence was heavy, more defiant than fearful.

Your chest twisted.

You had been talking with Severus for a few weeks now. You’d seen the way he listened when you spoke, how his voice softened when it was just you. He wasn’t the villain your brother painted him to be. Not to you.

Without thinking, you marched forward.

"James Potter," you snapped.

The laughter died instantly.

James turned, startled. "Hey, little one—"

"Give it back," you said, your voice sharp as the autumn air.

„But…“

„No but. Give it back this instant or I will not talk to you for a whole week.“

James hesitated, his face shifting between guilt and bravado. Slowly, he threw Severus’ wand back. It hit the ground at Severus’ feet with a dull clatter.

"You’re supposed to be better than this," you said, fixing James with a look that made him shift on his feet. "I am quite disappointed with you. Now apologize and let’s go."

James flushed a deep red. He opened his mouth, closed it again. With a muttered apology under his breath, he turned on his heel.

"Come on," he barked at Sirius and Remus.

They followed without a word. After a couple steps they stopped and looked back at you, expecting to follow them as well.

You stayed behind a little longer checking Severus with your gaze.

He bent to pick up his wand, tucking it carefully into his robes. When he straightened, his dark eyes found yours.

You gave him a small, soft smile.

Then you turned and walked away towards where James was still waiting for you. When you reach him he puts an arm around you, leading you away.

Completely unaware of the smug look that crossed Severus‘s face watching you leave.

It was late when you finally were leaving the library. Severus was leaning against the far wall, half in shadow, his hands shoved awkwardly into his pockets seemingly waiting.

He straightened the second he spotted you, that familiar guarded expression flickering into something softer.

"Fancy meeting you here," you teased lightly, slowing your steps until you stood before him.

"I was hoping to see you actually," he said quietly.

You smiled — a real one, no hesitation.

For a second, he looked like he might bolt. Then, with a sharp breath, he pulled something from his robes — a small, neatly wrapped bundle — and extended it toward you.

"I wanted to... thank you," he said.

You blinked. "Severus, you didn’t have to—"

"I wanted to," he interrupted, his voice more certain this time. "You didn’t have to step in. But you did. You didn’t just watch."

Curious, you unwrapped the package carefully.

Inside was a slender piece of parchment — not just any parchment, but a rare brewing chart you recognized immediately: a highly detailed, annotated diagram for advanced potion work. The kind of thing even sixth-years would kill to have.

You looked up at him, stunned.

"I thought you might like it," Severus said, shrugging awkwardly. "You're good at Potions. You deserve better resources than the junk Slughorn hands out."

You swallowed around the sudden tightness in your throat.

"Severus," you said softly, "this is... incredible. Thank you."

He didn’t quite meet your eyes. "It’s nothing."

You folded the chart carefully, tucking it into your satchel like something precious.

"I was just heading back to the common room," you said, a little breathless.

"I’ll walk you," Severus offered immediately.

This time, you didn’t hesitate.

You fell into step together, the castle's ancient stones echoing under your feet. Your conversation was softer now, quieter. Little smiles. Glances. A warmth growing between you.

Halfway up the marble staircase when your scarf slipped from your shoulders.

Before you could grab it, Severus’ hand was there, careful, deliberate, catching the edge and gently looping it back around your neck.

His fingers brushed your collarbone, lingering just a second too long.

Your breath caught in your throat.

He was looking at you closely, his hand still lightly against you.

"We wouldn’t want you catch cold," he murmured, so quietly you barely heard him.

You tilted your face up to his, heart hammering so loudly you were sure he could hear it.

"Thank you," you whispered.

For a moment, you just stood there — suspended in something delicate, fragile.

Then Severus pulled away, so carefully it almost hurt.

Neither of you said anything more as you walked the rest of the way. But when you slipped into the common room, scarf clutched tight, you realized:

You hadn’t wanted him to pull away at all.

--

The next day, you found yourself drifting through the library earlier than usual.

Not because you needed to study but because a part of you wondered — hoped — he’d be there.

And he was.

Severus sat tucked against the far wall near the restricted section, one leg crossed over the other, a book on his knee and a quiet intensity in his expression.

You hovered a few feet away, unsure if you should approach. But he looked up the moment you shifted your weight, his expression softening when he saw you.

“I was wondering how long it would take you to find me,” he said quietly.

You blinked. “I wasn’t looking.”

He arched one brow, then glanced at the empty seat beside him. “You sure?”

You stared at him for a second — then, without answering, walked over and sat down.

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, it hasn’t been for weeks.

You let it stretch, the sound of pages turning and distant footsteps filling the space.

He didn’t speak again until he noticed you eyeing the page he was reading.

“Don’t bother,” he said. “It’s hopelessly dry.”

You gave him a sideways glance. “That your subtle way of saying you’d rather talk?”

“No,” he said. “That was my not-so-subtle way of saying I’d rather hear you talk.”

Your lips twitched, caught off guard.

“You’re not nearly as slick as you think you are.”

“I’m not trying to be slick.”

“Oh? Then what exactly are you trying to be?”

There was a beat of silence. Then, quiet:

“Interesting to you.”

You turned to look at him fully — and found that he was already watching you closely.

“You are.”

He blinked — like that was the last thing he expected you to say.

You dropped your eyes back to your open book, trying to ignore the sudden flutter in your chest.

—

Something has changed between you and Severus after that but even if you could feel it, you told yourself it meant nothing.

It meant nothing the way your stomach flipped when you caught Severus looking at you across the Potions classroom. The way he lowered his eyes a second too late, like he'd been caught.

It meant nothing the way his eyes softened slightly when you passed each other in the hallway between classesand his hand brushed yours.

He wasn’t flirting.

At least… you didn’t think so.

It was after dinner when you saw him, in the corridor outside the Charms classrooms, where the candles floated lower and the shadows moved like they were listening.

You hadn’t been looking for him.

Or maybe you had. You weren’t sure anymore.

He was standing with one shoulder against the stone wall, arms loosely crossed, eyes scanning the few students that passed — until they landed on you.

You stopped, breath catching just slightly in your throat.

“Twice in one day,” you said, voice lighter than it felt.

“Lucky me,” Severus murmured.

He pushed off the wall and walked toward you slowly — not with swagger, not trying to impress — just moving like someone who already knew he had your attention.

Because he did.

You didn’t even pretend to hide it.

“You always lurk in dark corridors?”

“Only for a certain Girl.”

That made you huff a laugh. “That sounded dangerously close to a compliment.”

He stepped close enough for your pulse to trip.

“I don’t hand those out often,” he said, voice lower now. “You should keep it safe.”

You tilted your head, caught off guard by the heat under his tone.

“You’re being bold tonight.”

“Maybe you bring it out of me.”

Your heart was hammering now — not from surprise, but from how calm he was. How intentional.

“You’re really different when no one’s around,” you said, quieter now.

“And how is that?”

You didn’t answer right away. You looked up at him instead — really looked.

Closer than he should’ve been.

Eyes sharp, but soft at the edges.

Mouth relaxed. Breath steady.

Like you were the only thing he saw.

“You’re warm and soft” you said, barely audible.

He didn’t move. But something in his eyes darkened, like he was absorbing the word and filing it away.

Only then did he take another step — enough to close the space.

Not touching you.

Just standing close enough that you could feel it — that gravity he carried when he looked at you like this.

Then, slowly — carefully — he reached up and brushed your hair behind your ear.

Just his fingers.

Just a whisper of skin on skin.

And that was all it took.

Your breath hitched.

“You have no idea just how beautiful you look right now.”

You froze.

Not because it was too much — but because you wanted him to say it again.

And he knew that.

He stepped back before you could answer.

“Walk with me?”

Your throat was dry. “Where to?”

“Anywhere.”

You did.

And by the time you got back to your common room that night, you knew it wasn’t nothing.

Severus was definitely flirting 

And you were already falling.

Hard.

--

It was later that week, you were walking down the corridor after class when you heard his voice behind you.

“Wait up.”

You turned, surprised — and there he was, slinging his satchel over one shoulder, catching up.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you voluntarily speed up for anyone,” you said.

“Consider it a limited exception,” he replied. “I only do it for you.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the soft blush creeping up your cheeks “how very charming.”

He didn’t answer right away. But then he looked at you, soft and quiet.

“I’m trying.”

Something flickered in your chest.

You slowed your pace, and he matched it without hesitation.

As you reached the stairwell, the two of you stopped — the space between you thick with something you didn’t quite wanted to say out loud.

“I have free time tomorrow,” he said suddenly. “After dinner.”

You tilted your head. “And?”

“And I think we should use it.”

You raised an eyebrow. “To study?”

“If you want.”

“And if I don’t?”

He shrugged lightly. “Then we’ll do something else.”

You considered him — this strange, sharp, brilliant boy who had gone from a mystery to something more… something magnetic.

Something dangerous, maybe. But not in the way that frightened you.

“All right,” you said finally. “Tomorrow.”

His eyes lit in that way they rarely did.

“Tomorrow, meet me at the Potions Classroom” he said warmly.

And when he walked away this time, it was slower.

Like he didn’t want to leave too much distance behind.

You didn’t know why he asked you to meet him here.

The Potions classroom was quiet this late — all the cauldrons scrubbed clean, the windows still fogged from the day’s heat. The stone floor echoed under your steps as you pushed open the door and stepped inside.

He was already there, standing behind one of the front benches, sleeves rolled to his elbows, two vials resting near his hand and a small, half-used page of parchment at his side.

You paused in the doorway.

“So this is ‘something else,’” you said, your voice echoing slightly.

He looked up — and there it was again. That soft flicker behind his eyes. That look he only gave you.

“Well It isn’t studying,” he said. “Not technically.”

You raised a brow. “So what is it, then?”

He stepped aside, gesturing to the bench.

“A demonstration.”

You eyed the setup warily, but curiosity tugged stronger.

You stepped closer.

“What are we making?”

“Nothing explosive,” he said. “Just… watch.”

You did — settling beside him, watching the practiced way he uncorked a vial and poured a thin, silver liquid into the pewter basin in front of you both.

“I remember you mentioned you wanted to see how to brew a Revealing Draught.”

You blinked. “I didn’t think you were actually listening when I said that.”

“I was.”

He said it like it was obvious — like of course he’d remember something small you let slip between conversations.

You glanced away to hide the way your heart tripped.

His hands moved with precision — deliberate and smooth. He showed you how the ingredients were measured. What the best way was to brew it to perfection.

And you listened, taking every word in and watching every single of his movements.

“Here you try” he said. “You have to stir counterclockwise.”

You reached for the ladle, your fingers brushing his.

He stepped back to let you have the space, observing you as you stirred the potion. His gaze made you heart speed up and you stirred a little faster.

The color shifted — faint blue to soft green.

“Too fast,” he murmured. “Like this.”

He stepped up behind you slowly, his hand sliding over yours, not forceful just guiding you with care. 

Your breath hitched as you tilted your head back to look at him over your shoulder.

“Better,” he said, voice low near your ear.

You could feel the warmth of him behind you, the steady pressure of his hand over yours. It wasn’t rushed.

When he finally let go, you missed his touch immediately.

He moved around to the other side of the bench and dropped a powdered herb into the mix. The potion shimmered and turned clear, then began to pulse — slow, steady, like a heartbeat.

You stared.

“That’s…”

“A perfectly balanced brew,” he said, not looking at it.

He was watching you.

You flushed, biting the inside of your cheek.

“You’re dangerous when you’re showing off.”

He tilted his head. “Am I showing off?”

“You planned this.”

“Yes.”

You blinked at the honesty.

“But not because I wanted to show off” he added.

“Then why?”

His answer came without hesitation.

“Because I wanted to be near you.”

It knocked the breath out of you.

The honesty. The calmness of it. The way it felt real.

You stepped back slightly, suddenly fully aware of the way your heart was close to jumping out of your chest.

He didn’t press forward. Didn’t touch you again. He just watched you, steady and patient.

You gathered your voice.

“I want to be near you too,” you said.

His mouth twitched. “That’s good to hear.”

He reached for a cloth and wiped the edge of the bench, then looked back up at you.

“I’m going to ask you something tomorrow,” he said, casual but direct.

You stared at him.

“And I hope you won’t run away screaming.”

Your throat tightened.

“Why tomorrow?”

“Because I want tonight to be just this.”

When you left the classroom a few minutes later — your hand still tingling, your chest too full — you didn’t look back.

But you knew he was still standing there.

Watching you go.

--

You weren’t surprised to find him waiting outside the library for you again.

Not this time.

He stood near the arched window, backlit by soft torchlight, his arms folded loosely. He looked calm, like he hadn’t been standing there thinking about this moment all day.

But you knew he had.

He looked up the moment he saw you, something quiet but sure passing through his eyes.

“Hey,” you said, smiling.

He stepped forward — not awkward, not shy — and stopped just in front of you.

“You remember what I said last night,” he said.

You blinked. “About what?”

“That I was going to ask you something.”

A slow flutter stirred in your chest.

“And?”

His eyes didn’t leave yours.

“Go out with me? Saturday.”

You smiled — wide, open, already nodding.

“I’d love to.”

Something almost like relief softened his expression, but it passed quickly.

“I’ll meet you after lunch,” he said. “Clock tower.”

You nodded, your stomach light and full of heat all at once.

As he turned to go, you stood there for a moment longer, still feeling the ghost of his voice in your chest.

On Saturday you found him where he said he’d be.

The clock tower courtyard was still warming in the early afternoon sun, light streaking the stone floor in golden shafts. Severus stood in the center, hands clasped behind his back.

His robes were neater than usual, pressed, clean, dark fabric draping sharply over his shoulders. His boots polished. His hair soft, falling more gently across his face.

He looked…

Beautiful.

“You look nice,” you said before you could stop yourself.

He smiled, a full one, at you.

“So do you but then again, you always do,” he said — easy, quiet, like it was just a fact.

It knocked the breath right out of you.

You walked together down toward the Black Lake, the trees shedding the last of their autumn color. The path was mostly empty. Just you and him and the hush of wind through gold-leafed branches.

Near the shore, he conjured a blanket — elegant and fast, not showy and laid out a small spread: warm cider, pumpkin pasties, and chocolate frogs tucked in a paper bag.

Simple. Perfect.

You sat close.

You told each other things that felt small and strange and real, favorite books, strange dreams, old memories you hadn’t touched in years.

He listened to every word you said. Really listened. When you laughed, his smile was soft and warm. When you looked down, he waited for you to look back.

At some point, the breeze picked up and you shivered without meaning to.

Severus didn’t say anything. He just slipped out of his outer robe and draped it over your shoulders like it was nothing.

But it wasn’t nothing. It was the kind of gesture you didn’t expect from him but now, couldn’t imagine from anyone else.

Your hands brushed when you reached for a cup of cider. At first, he didn’t move.

Then his fingers turned under yours, slow and careful.

You laced your fingers into his, your heart doing something wild in your chest.

He glanced at your joined hands. Then, without a word, he lifted yours and pressed a kiss to your knuckles.

Soft. Slow. Intentional.

His eyes searching yours, giving you space to stop him as he slowly leaned in, you didn’t hesitate.

You met him halfway.

His lips were warm. Gentle. Just the right amount of unsure.

He kissed you like he’d been waiting.Like you were already his. 

His hand touched your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek like you were made of glass.

You melted into it — the kiss, the moment, the quiet between you.

Deep inside, Severus was celebrating.

But on the outside?

He was flawless. The perfect boy.

And you — You never stood a chance.

--

Something about you had changed.

James noticed it almost immediately — the way you floated down the halls, the way your eyes sparkled when you thought no one was watching. The way you couldn’t stop smiling at nothing at all. He knew it

He teased you for it, of course — he was your brother, after all — ruffling your hair when you laughed too easily, bumping his shoulder into yours when you daydreamed through breakfast.

"You’ve got that stupid, love sick look on your face again," he said one morning in the Great Hall, grinning.

You rolled your eyes, biting into your toast. "I’m allowed to be happy, you know."

"Yeah, yeah," James said, nudging you. "Just don’t let it rot your brain."

But inside, he was happy too. You deserved someone good. Someone who made you feel like this.

He just hadn’t realized yet who that someone was. Until he saw you.

James was just heading toward the library, laughing with Sirius about the prank they'd pulled on Filch when he caught sight of you — and stopped cold. His laughter dying in his throat.

You were standing close — too close — to Severus Snape.

You tilted your head back at something Severus said, brushing his arm with yours, The way Severus looked at you angled slightly down, eyes soft, mouth relaxed. 

And when Severus leaned in — not touching, but near enough to kiss if either of you tilted your heads an inch, James swore his heart stopped. 

He watched, frozen, as Severus reached up to tuck your hair behind your ear. while you — his little sister — beamed up at him like he had hung the bloody moon and stars himself. The way he did is so casually, fingers grazing your temple with such calculated softness, like he had done it a thousand times before, made James' fists clench.

Beside James, Sirius noticing how his friend had gone quiet, turned to follow his gaze and immediately swore under his breath.

"Bloody hell," Sirius muttered. "That has to be a joke."

And just as you slowly leaned up to press a soft kiss to Severus lips

 “Oi!” 

James didn’t waste another second and was already moving. You startled at his voice, turning quickly as he stormed up. Sirius trailed behind him, tense and silent, clearly knowing not to get in between what’s gonna happen next.

Severus tensed slightly behind you, but when you turned to look at him, concern flashing across your face, Severus ducked his head — quiet, gentle, even bashful.

James wanted to hex the look right off him.

"What do you think you are doing?" James demanded, voice sharp.

"What do you mean? I just wanted to kiss him" you said, your voice laced with confusion. 

"Are you mental? Why would you kiss that ugly git?" James blurted, immediately regretting it when your face hardened.

"James," you said warningly, "I will not stand here while you insult my boyfriend."

James stared at you like you had grown a second head. "You’re dating Snivellus?"

You crossed your arms. "His name is Severus. I would appreciate if you would call him that and not by that insult. And yes, I am dating him.“

Severus, standing behind you, tilted his head slightly — a barely-there motion — and smirked at James over your shoulder.

"You—he—" James spluttered, jabbing a finger at Severus.

“He’s not who you think he is,” James tried again, lowering his voice. “He’s—”

“I’m happy,” you said, more softly now. „He makes me happy. Isn't that what you should want?“

And just like that, James was undone because that was all it took. He let out a slow breath and stepped back and nodded once.

You turned then, fussing with Severus’ scarf like it was the most natural thing in the world, smoothing it down, murmuring something too low for James to catch. Severus cheeks flushed his gaze dropping like he was embarrassed by the attention.

James could see the truth, though. He could see something like triumph glittering in Severus’ eyes.

It made his stomach churn but he bit his tongue. Because no matter how much he hated it, he knew one thing:

If he pushed too hard, if he hurt Severus now — he’d hurt you.

And he would never, never do that.

James watched Severus look over your shoulder one more time. The smirk was gone but the message was clear.

Checkmate.

From that day on, Severus was always there.

Wherever you were, he wasn’t far behind — your shadow in the best way. You’d gotten used to the feel of his hand finding yours in passing, the low rumble of his voice at your ear, the warmth of him brushing against you when you sat together too close.

And he was always close.

He walked with you between classes. He waited outside the library. He joined you for breakfast when the Great Hall was quiet, slipping into the seat beside you like he belonged there.

You didn’t question it.

He carried your books. He kissed your cheek when you handed him his tea. He brushed his fingers through your hair when you weren’t paying attention, soft and slow, like it was second nature.

It was.

You were sitting on the stone ledge outside the Defense Against the Dark Arts tower, your legs draped over his lap, your hands fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve while you talked about nothing in particular.

Severus wasn’t really listening.

He was looking past you — across the courtyard where James stood with Sirius and Remus, pretending not to notice.

But he did notice.

He always did.

So Severus leaned in and pressed a kiss to your jaw — slow, warm, deliberate.

You blinked and smiled, tilting your head to meet him. “What was that for?”

“Felt like it,” he murmured, brushing another kiss to your collarbone, just below the line of your scarf.

You laughed, a little breathless. “You’re being sweet today.”

His eyes flicked up, past you.

Straight to James.

And then he smiled.

Just a little.

That night at dinner, you tugged Severus down into the seat beside you at the end of the Gryffindor table — the spot everyone politely pretended not to see anymore.

James watched from further down — quiet, tight-lipped.

You were too busy slipping a Chocolate Frog into Severus’s hand and leaning your head against his shoulder to notice.

He kissed your hair once. Then again.

And then once more — this time brushing his lips lower, to the side of your neck.

You giggled and pulled him closer, murmuring something about how he always got more affectionate when he was tired.

Severus didn’t answer.

He didn’t have to.

Because he could feel James’s stare boring through the side of his head.

He reached under the table, laced his fingers with yours, and pulled your joined hands into his lap.

You smiled against his neck.

James got up and left without finishing his meal.

--

You were sitting together on the low stone wall near the Charms corridor, the last sun of the day casting long shadows behind you. Your legs were tucked to the side, your shoulder against Severus’s chest, his arm around your waist.

You were laughing at something — one of those little observations you made that no one else ever seemed to notice.

Severus wasn’t really listening.

Not at first.

He was watching across the courtyard, where James leaned against the far wall with Sirius, arms crossed, eyes locked on the two of you like it physically pained him.

Severus turned toward you, brushing your hair back behind your ear — soft, deliberate.

“Hold still,” he said.

You blinked, confused, and then laughed when he pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose.

“Sev—what are you doing?” you giggled.

“Kissing you.”

Your smile widened. “Well, carry on, then.”

And he did.

He kissed you again — your cheek, your jaw, the curve just beneath your ear — until you were warm and breathless and burying your face in the crook of his neck, trying not to squeal.

Severus glanced up one more time.

James was gone.

but he didn’t stop.

Later, back in your little hidden classroom, the lamps glowed low, casting golden shadows on the walls. You had Severus’s robes balled up under your head and your legs draped across his lap, twirling his hair between your fingers while you talked softly about absolutely nothing.

He watched you — head tilted, eyes steady — like you were something distant and glowing, like you might vanish if he blinked too hard.

He didn’t mean to reach for you.

But he did.

His fingers curled under your chin, tilting your face toward him — not sharply, not with intent.

Just… need.

You quieted.

His mouth brushed yours — slow, slow, and again. And again.

It wasn’t sharp this time. Not strategic.

It was aching. Sincere.

Your fingers slid into his hair. You kissed him back like he was everything.

And Severus forgot, just for a second, that he wasn’t.

--

The castle was mostly quiet when you stepped into the old classroom.

It had become yours over the past few months — yours and Severus’s. No one else came here. You doubted anyone even remembered it existed.

The lamps flickered low, casting long shadows across the stone floor. The air was warm, and the blanket you’d brought last week still lay folded on the windowsill bench.

Severus was already there.

He didn’t look up at first — just sat at the edge of the desk, his hands resting loosely in his lap, his posture tight in a way you recognized too well.

You dropped your bag without a word and crossed the room.

When you reached him, you touched his sleeve lightly. “Rough day?”

He nodded once.

You didn’t press. You never had to.

You just stepped between his knees and gently peeled his robe from his shoulders, folding it neatly beside him before brushing his hair back from his face.

“You haven’t eaten, have you?”

“I wasn’t hungry.”

You huffed softly and reached into your bag, pulling out the small bundle you’d stashed from dinner — a roll, an apple, a bit of chocolate.

You handed it to him and raised your eyebrows.

He didn’t argue.

You sat beside him on the desk, thigh pressed to his, and leaned your head on his shoulder while he took slow bites of the food you’d brought.

“Better,” you said quietly.

He didn’t respond, but you felt the way his shoulder softened beneath you.

You reached for his hand — fingers cold, a little ink-stained — and held it between yours, brushing your thumb over his knuckles.

“You work too hard,” you murmured. “You don’t sleep enough. You forget to eat. Honestly, sometimes I think I’m dating a ghost.”

His lips quirked just barely.

“I mean it,” you said, looking up. “Someone’s got to take care of you.”

He looked at you then — really looked.

And whatever he meant to say never came out.

Because you leaned up and kissed his cheek, then his temple, then the corner of his mouth.

“I love you, you know,” you said.

So casually. So easily. Like it was just true.

Because it was.

Severus didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

He just sat still, your warmth pressed against him, your fingers gently brushing through his hair like you didn’t realize you were touching something fragile.

He pulled you closer, his arm tightening around your waist — not out of panic, but something quieter.

Need.

In a move so smooth it made your breath hitch, he pulled you into his lap.

"You can't just—" you began, laughing quietly.

He silenced you with a kiss.

It was deeper than usual — slower, heavier — his hand splaying across the small of your back, holding you firmly against him.

You melted into him without thinking, one hand finding the nape of his neck, fingers curling into his hair.

When he finally pulled back, he didn’t go far — resting his forehead against yours, breathing you in.

"You always spoil me," he whispered.

You grinned, brushing a stray lock of hair from his face. "You deserve it."

You meant it. With everything you had.

It hit him deeply and all at once:

If you found out…

He wouldn’t just lose the plan. He’d lose this. The quiet. The comfort. The way you looked at him like he mattered.

He didn’t want to be without you.

And the fear of that — of losing you — settled deeper than he liked.

Later, at dinner, you made sure to sit with him in the Great Hall — ignoring the way Sirius arched an eyebrow and Remus coughed awkwardly into his pumpkin juice.

James watched the two of you from across the table, silent, chewing mechanically through his food like it might break in his mouth.

You barely noticed.

You were too busy fussing with Severus — pushing his hair back from his face, slipping a Chocolate Frog into his pocket, murmuring little things only he could hear.

Severus let you.

He basked in it.

He kissed you, slow, lingering kisses that left you dizzy and smiling and clutching at his robes like you couldn’t stand not touching him.

Sometimes, his hand would slide to your waist, pulling you closer. Sometimes it would skim up your back under your robes, fingers splaying against your spine — possessive, sure.

Each time you leaned into it without hesitation, letting yourself drown in him.

Each time James watched with gritted teeth, fists clenched beneath the table.

--

James had lasted longer than anyone expected.

He’d watched you throw your arms around Severus in the corridors. Watched you giggle when Severus whispered something only you could hear. Watched you sit in his lap, touch his hair, press your lips to his like there was no one else in the world.

And James said nothing.

For weeks, he held it in — every instinct screaming at him to drag you away, to hex Snape where he stood — but he didn’t.

Because you were happy.

And James Potter would rather choke on his anger than wipe the smile off your face.

But there were limits.

And tonight — they shattered.

The library was nearly empty. The lamps burned low, casting long shadows between the shelves.

James waited by the main arch — arms crossed, jaw clenched, heart pounding too loud in his ears.

Severus stepped out from a side aisle, his usual smooth precision in every step. Calm. Composed.

James moved into his path.

They stood facing each other in silence — neither blinking.

“You think I don��t see what you’re doing?” James asked, voice quietly, dangerously calm.

Severus gave a slow, deliberate blink. "No idea what you mean," he said, voice dripping with false innocence.

"You’re not subtle," James said. "You’re using her. Touching her, parading her around in front of me like some twisted game.“

Severus tilted his head slightly eyes turning harder for a fraction.

"Maybe if you hadn’t spent years making my life miserable, Potter," he said softly, "I wouldn’t have needed a shield."

“So that’s what she is to you? A solution to me?”  James laughed out, humorless.

“She gave me peace,” Severus muttered. “That’s more than you ever did.”

"You’re lying to her," James snapped at him his voice dangerous. “She thinks you love her.”

Severus hesitated, the word catching on his tongue. 

“She was—She made it easy to stop all of it. I didn’t plan for it to go this far.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then — so quiet it barely landed:

“She was just… convenient.”

The words hung in the air like a curse.

And from behind them, a soft sound — a book hitting the floor.

Both boys turned.

You stood frozen in the aisle your fingers trembling.

Your eyes — wide and stunned — locked onto Severus.

"Convenient," you repeated, barely audible.

You swayed slightly where you stood. James moved immediately, crossing to you without hesitation.

You didn't pull away.

You let him catch you, his arms wrapping around you tightly, grounding you.

Severus took a small step forward.

"Y/N—" he said, voice rougher now, almost panicked.

You shook your head fiercely, pressing your face into James’ shoulder.

Severus kept talking, desperate now. "I didn’t mean—"

You lifted your head, tears streaking silently down your cheeks, and cut him off.

“Stop,” you said, voice sharp now. “Just… stop.”

He froze.

“I believed you,” you said, voice soft and wrecked. “Every word. Every look. I believed it all.”

Severus stepped forward again.

“Y/N—wait, I didn’t—”

“Don’t” you said — not loud, but it cut clean. “Don’t come near me.”

He faltered. “You don’t understand—”

"Stay away from me," you said, voice shaking but strong. "You got what you wanted. I hope you are happy now.“

The words hit Severus harder than he thought they ever could.

James tightened his grip around you protectively.

„Stay away from us,“ James said, voice low and sharp. „And we will stay away from you.“

Severus opened his mouth — but no words came out.

James turned, guiding you away gently but firmly, one hand between your shoulder blades, keeping you steady.

You didn't look back.

And Severus — Severus stood there, watching you go, the crushing weight of guilt settling heavy in his chest.

--

It was worse than he had expected.

Severus thought he had prepared for it — thought he could stomach the cost of losing you. After all, it had been a game. A plan.

A way to get James to stop tormenting him.

It wasn’t supposed to hurt.

And yet —

Every time you passed him in the corridors, your arm looped through your brother’s, eyes sliding right past him like he’d never existed — it felt like a blade twisting in his ribs.

You didn’t look at him. You didn’t flinch. You didn’t acknowledge him at all.

You made yourself deaf to the way he sometimes stumbled in your wake, as if drawn after you like a ghost.

You were colder than any hex. And it destroyed him.

The Great Hall was louder now — every scrape of cutlery, every shout, every burst of laughter like a hammer to the skull.

Without you beside him, it was unbearable.

Severus picked at his meals in silence, alone at the end of the Slytherin table, eyes drawn helplessly to the cluster of Gryffindors halfway down the hall.

You sat between James and Lily, laughing at something Sirius said, your smile strained but brave.

James kept a protective arm draped casually across the back of your chair, his eyes always scanning, always watching — daring Severus to come closer.

Severus didn’t.

He couldn’t.

Not because of James.

Because of you.

Because every time you smiled through the ache, something inside him cracked — slow, quiet, and bleeding.

You still carried yourself with pride — back straight, chin up but Severus could see the cracks if he looked hard enough.

The moments when you went quiet, staring off into nothing. The way your fingers curled tightly into the fabric of your robes when you thought no one was watching.

The way you blinked fast sometimes, like you were forcing the tears down before they could escape.

He had done that. He had taken your trust — your love — and shattered it.

And he hadn't even realized what he had until it was gone.

One night, he found himself standing outside the Gryffindor Tower entrance — stupid, pathetic, half-hoping to catch a glimpse of you through the open portrait hole.

He didn’t see you.

But he heard your laugh — soft, tired, real — floating down from somewhere inside.

Not for him.

Never for him again.

Severus turned away, his hands shaking in his pockets, guilt rotting inside him like poison.

He’d won.

But it didn’t feel like victory.

It felt like he’d set fire to the only thing that had ever made him feel whole.

Severus hadn’t meant to stop.

He was just passing through, head down, hands shoved deep in his pockets, thoughts tangled with you — like they always were.

And then — there you were.

Sitting on the stone bench by the fountain, the late afternoon sun catching in your hair, laughing — actually laughing — at something the boy beside you said.

Some Ravenclaw — all clean lines and easy charm, the kind of boy who never had to fight to be liked.

You leaned in closer when you laughed, touching the boy’s arm lightly, your smile bright and open and full of something Severus hadn’t seen in weeks.

He froze, the world narrowing to a single, unbearable point.

You looked... happy.

Happy like he had made you in all those weeks of kisses and whispered lies.

Happy in the way you had only ever looked at him.

The Dull ache in his chest got stronger with every heartbeat. 

He missed the way you fussed over him. The warmth of your hands, the soft murmurs, the way you sat pressed against him like you were proud to be his.

He missed all of it.

He missed you.

And in that moment — watching you laugh for someone else — he realized what he’d done. It hadn’t been a game. Not for a long time.

He had loved you. Not with flowers or poetry. But in the way you made him feel human. In the way you saw him — wanted him — before he even wanted himself.

And he had destroyed it.

Because he hadn’t realized until now — until he saw you moving on without him — that what he had with you wasn’t just a shield.

It had been real.

And he had thrown it away for something that didn’t even feel peaceful anymore.

Severus leaned back against the cold stone of the courtyard wall, his legs suddenly weak.

He watched you laugh again, tilting your head back, and something inside him cracked so loudly he was sure the whole world could hear it.

It was over.

You weren’t his to love anymore.

--

Severus heard the rumor before he saw it. A whisper over pumpkin juice. A scribbled note passed under the Ravenclaw table.

You’d been asked out. You’d said yes. You were moving on.

It shouldn’t have surprised him. He’d used you.

But somehow — stupidly — part of him had still believed there might be time. Time to fix it. Time to deserve you.

He hoped that he had still time to find a way to make it up to you but that part of him died that morning.

Something hollowed out inside him, sharp and aching.

When he saw James laughing with Sirius outside Defense class, something in him snapped.

He didn’t think.

Didn’t speak.

Just swung — hard — and hit James square in the jaw.

James stumbled back, shocked — then snarled.

“You’re dead.”

The punch came fast. James’s fist cracked against Severus’s jaw, snapping his head to the side.

Severus didn’t move. Didn’t lift a hand. Just stood there, arms loose at his sides, as James hit him again — harder this time — and sent him sprawling.

The corridor filled fast — students pouring in, eager for blood. Some gasped. Some laughed. A few even cheered.

Severus didn’t hear them. Not really.

James didn’t stop. He leaned down and hit him again. And again.

Severus didn’t move. Somewhere in the roaring in his ears, he caught Sirius’s voice — then a kick to the ribs. Pain burst behind his eyes. The floor tilted.

Another fist. Another kick. He took it all. Not because he was numb 

but because this was what he deserved. For lying. For realizing too late that he’d loved you, and that he’d destroyed the one good thing he’d ever had. Let them hurt him. Let it leave a mark.

He wanted it to hurt.

He didn’t notice at all but something shifted — the noise cut off, laughter stilled, tension thickened. Then—

“James!”

Your voice. Raw. Horrified. Real.

You didn’t hesitate.

You ran straight to James, grabbing his arm, yanking him back.

His fist froze mid-swing.

He was panting, wild-eyed, hands still shaking.

The silence was thick — heavy and watching.

Severus stayed down, vision swimming, ears ringing, blood warm on his face.

Then you were there. Dropping to your knees. Reaching for him.

“Oh my…”

He flinched before your fingers touched him.

“We need to get you to the infirmary,” you said, your voice breaking. You reached for him — gentle, steady — but he jerked away like your touch burned.

“No.” His voice was raw, wrecked. “Don’t.”

You froze, hand suspended in the air. Hurt flickered across your face, but still — you tried again.

“You’re bleeding. You need—”

“I don’t want your help,” he snapped, sharper this time, bitter and afraid.

The words cut deeper than any bruise.

“Severus—”

“Just go.”

The crowd thinned fast. Laughter faded to uneasy whispers. Eyes darted away. No one wanted to be the last one watching.

James stood off to the side now, fists loose, chest heaving — guilt already setting in like bruises under the skin.

You stayed.

Still on your knees, still reaching for Severus, even after everything.

“I’m not leaving you here,” you said, voice shaking but firm.

He shut his eyes. Your hands touched his arm — soft, insistent — and it nearly broke him.

He didn’t deserve this. Not from you. Not after everything.

And that — that — hurt more than every punch James had thrown.

He didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to stand. Didn’t want you to see him like this — bloody, weak, ruined.

But you were still there.

So he turned his face away, jaw tight, and forced himself upright with a sharp groan — pain lighting up behind his eyes.

You reached for him — not thinking, just moving — your hand slipping under his arm, steadying him as he tried to sit up.

“Let me help—”

He pulled away. Not rough. Not angry. Just... empty.

You froze, watching as he braced one hand against the cold stone floor, struggling to push himself upright. His ribs clearly screamed with pain. His lip was bleeding. His breath came shallow and uneven.

Still, he shoved himself to his feet.

He swayed.

You moved forward again, instinctively, hand outstretched—

“I said don’t.”

His voice was hoarse. Low. Final.

You stopped.

He didn’t look at you.

Didn’t say anything else.

Just turned — slow, stiff — and limped down the corridor, one arm wrapped around his middle, blood dripping down his jaw.

You stood there.

Watching.

Waiting for him to turn back.

He didn’t.

You’d seen people fall apart before.

Friends crying over exams. Students cracking under pressure.

But this wasn’t stress.

This wasn’t fear.

This was Severus quietly erasing himself.

You noticed it first in Potions.

He stopped arriving on time. Stopped wearing his robes properly. His shirt always wrinkled, his hair unbrushed, hanging in his eyes.

He stopped raising his hand. Stopped taking notes.

He barely seemed to breathe.

And you hated it. Hated that you still noticed. Hated that you still cared. Because you were supposed to hate him. Because he deserved it.

But the ache in your chest kept growing — steady, heavy, impossible to ignore.

Then he stopped showing up at all. One day. Two. Three. Four. No one knew where he’d gone.

The Slytherins stayed silent. The professors frowned, but didn’t say anything about it.

You told yourself it didn’t matter. You told yourself to stop thinking about him. You tried.

Then you heard it.

Two Hufflepuffs outside Charms — whispering, grinning.

“Did you hear? Snape got into it with Mulciber yesterday. Nearly got knocked out.” “Yeah, and someone said he picked a fight with three Ravenclaws. Because of that rumor — one of them dating (Y/N) Potter.” “Slughorn told McGonagall he’ll get expelled if it keeps up.”

You froze. The blood drained from your face.

Expulsion. Fights. Severus — who had once clung to ambition like a lifeline, who just wanted quiet, who only ever wanted peace — was throwing it all away.

No. You didn’t want to believe it. But the fear clawed up your throat anyway.

You searched the whole castle. The library. Empty classrooms. Dark corners where you used to meet in.

Nothing.

It was like he’d vanished. Like he didn't exist anymore.

And for the first time since he broke your heart— You were scared. Really, truly scared.

It was nearly midnight when a soft tap on your shoulder pulled you out of your thoughts.

You turned.

Lily stood there — red hair loose, eyes tired, holding something close to her chest.

“Hey,” she said quietly.

In her hands was a small box.

“This is for you,” Lily said. Her voice was calm, but her eyes were full of something that looked like regret. “From Severus.”

Your stomach knotted. You couldn’t speak.

She gently pressed the box into your hands. “He asked me to deliver it. That’s all.”

You nodded, wordless.

She lingered for a moment — like there was more she wanted to say. But instead, she stepped back and sank quietly into one of the armchairs across the room.

Not leaving. Just staying close. Respecting a grief she couldn’t name, and couldn’t fix.

You sank into the nearest chair by the fire, the box like a weight in your lap. It was plain. Unmarked. Small.

Inside, wrapped in soft brown paper, was a book. A rare potions text — the one you’d mentioned months ago in passing. You hadn’t even thought he’d heard you.

You didn’t even realize you were crying — not until a tear hit the cover.

You wiped it away fast, almost frustrated.

Your hands were shaking as you opened the first page.

At the bottom of the first page — small, careful, like he didn’t dare write it any bigger:

I love you.

You blinked — once. Twice.

Then turned the page.

There it was again. Just beneath a potion diagram, tucked between the inked lines:

I love you.

Another page. Scribbled faintly in the margin beside a brewing chart:

I love you.

They were everywhere.

Tiny. Hidden. Buried in corners and curves. Like he didn’t know if you’d ever see them. Like he had to say it anyway. Over and over. Because he couldn’t say it out loud.

Each one tore at you.

Each one made it harder to breathe.

By the time you reached the last page, your hands were trembling.

At the bottom of the inside cover, the writing changed — rougher now, uneven. The ink was smudged in one place, like something wet had struck the page and dried there.

A single tear, maybe.

I wasn’t brave enough to say this to your face. Not after everything. Not when I know you don’t want to hear it.

I know you’ve moved on. I know this won’t change anything. Maybe you won’t even read this. But I had to say it somewhere. At least once.

Be happy. That’s what I want for you. That’s all that matters now.

I will be gone soon, I will make sure this is the last time you’ll hear from me. I promise.

I won’t bother you again. I won’t let myself.

just know I never meant to hurt you.

I love you.

You pressed your forehead to the book, holding it to your chest like it could keep you from falling apart.

Your heart broke in quiet, shuddering pieces.

You were still sitting by the fire when James stepped into the common room.

Lily had been watching from the armchair. When she caught James’s eye, she gave the smallest shake of her head — subtle, quick. A silent message only someone who knew her well would understand.

It’s not good.

James didn’t hesitate. He crossed the room in a few long strides and lowered himself beside you, voice soft.

“Hey, little one. What’s going on?”

You didn’t answer. Didn’t look at him. Just clung to the book like it was the only thing left keeping you together.

James leaned in, eyes narrowing as he took in the frayed cover and trembling in your grip.

He reached for the book — slow, gentle — and you let him take it.

He opened it. His eyes landed on the first scrawled I love you.

Then another. And another. Written between diagrams, slipped into margins like secrets.

And finally — The last page.

James’s stomach dropped.

You broke.

A sob ripped out of you — low, raw, uncontrollable — and you crumpled into James’s chest like you couldn’t hold yourself up anymore.

He caught you immediately, arms locking tight around you — solid, steady, safe. You buried your face into his shoulder, fingers clutching at his sleeve.

“He said he will be gone soon,” you whispered. “I think… I think he meant it. They said he’s going to be expelled if he keeps fighting.”

James closed his eyes, burying his chin in your hair.

„It will be alright…“

“I don’t want him gone,” you choked out. “I love him. So much.”

Another sob tore through you, louder this time — broken, desperate — as you clung to James like he was the last solid thing in the world.

“I don’t want to lose him like this…”

For all the anger James had ever felt toward Severus Snape — all the hate, all the history — nothing had ever cut deeper than this.

Watching you cry like that. And knowing he couldn’t undo any of it.

But he could do what he’d always done.

He held you close. One arm around you.

The other gripping the book — the one thing Severus had left behind that still held the pieces of your heart.

He couldn't undo it but he sure as hell can fix it.

(Part 2 will be up later)

[writeriguess]

Omggggg that Katsuki in a lake with you and professing his love at a campfire was sooooo cute!! Could you write a scenario for Kirishima?

Katsuki fic this comment mentions

Under the Moonlight

The crackling campfire casts flickering shadows across the trees as the Bakusquad laughs, passing around drinks and sharing exaggerated stories. You’re curled up on a log, the warmth of the fire kissing your skin while Kirishima sits across from you, his eyes constantly darting to you when he thinks no one’s looking. He’s been like this all trip—stealing glances, fidgeting, acting a little too eager to help whenever you need something.

You’re not oblivious. You’ve known him long enough to notice when something’s up. But tonight, you decide to push the limits a little.

Stretching your arms above your head, you announce, “I think I’m gonna go for a swim.”

Mina perks up immediately. “Ooooh, nighttime swim? Count me in!”

“Nah, it’s gonna be a solo swim,” you reply with a smirk, standing up and dusting off your shorts. “Just need to cool off.”

There’s a round of teasing comments, mostly from Kaminari and Sero, but you wave them off as you make your way down the dirt path leading to the lake. You hear someone shifting behind you, but when you glance over your shoulder, everyone seems to be in their usual spots—except for Kirishima, who suddenly won’t meet your eyes.

The lake is calm, reflecting the silver glow of the full moon. You tug off your clothes, letting the night air nip at your skin before stepping into the cool water. A shiver runs through you, but it’s refreshing, washing away the lingering heat from the fire. You wade deeper, the water rising past your waist, up to your shoulders, until you’re fully submerged, floating under the stars.

A soft rustle from the trees makes your ears perk.

You tilt your head, barely making out a figure crouching behind some bushes near the pier. The moonlight is just bright enough to catch a flash of red—Kirishima’s hair.

Your lips curve into a knowing smile.

“Kiri,” you call out, your voice cutting through the stillness of the night. “You planning on just watching, or are you gonna join me?”

A sharp intake of breath. Then, a loud thud.

“Shit!” Kirishima stumbles forward, crashing through the brush like a startled animal. He barely catches himself on the wooden railing of the pier, looking completely busted. His face is burning, even in the dim light.

“I—I wasn’t spying!” he blurts out, hands flailing in panic. “I just—uh—I was checking to see if you were okay! You know, since it’s dark and all, and—”

You laugh, the sound soft and teasing. “Kiri, relax. I don’t mind.”

He blinks, stunned. “You… don’t?”

“Nope.” You tilt your head toward the water. “Why don’t you come in?”

“I—uh—” His throat bobs as he swallows hard. He’s looking anywhere but directly at you, eyes darting from the lake to the pier, to the trees, back to the pier. You can practically see the war waging in his head.

“I mean, it’s only fair,” you continue, watching him squirm. “You already got an eyeful, right?”

His face somehow gets redder. “That’s not—! I wasn’t—!”

You laugh again, wading closer to the pier. “Come on, Kiri. Live a little.”

Something in your voice snaps whatever self-control he had left. With a deep breath, he tugs off his shirt, revealing his sculpted chest, then hesitates. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he mutters before unbuttoning his shorts and letting them drop.

You smirk as he steps onto the ladder leading down into the water, gripping the metal bars with a tense, white-knuckled grip. His movements are hesitant, but as soon as the water touches his skin, he exhales a shuddering breath.

“Damn, it’s cold,” he murmurs, wading toward you.

“You’ll get used to it,” you assure him.

The air between you is thick with something unspoken, something electric. The moon casts a soft glow on his face, highlighting the nervous yet hungry look in his eyes as he stares at you. Your bodies are close—closer than they should be, considering you’re both completely bare beneath the water.

And then, he moves.

It’s subtle at first, just the brush of his fingers against your waist. But when you don’t pull away, he lets his hand settle, gripping you gently, testing the waters—literally and figuratively.

“You sure about this?” he murmurs, voice husky.

Instead of answering, you press against him, chest to chest, feeling the heat of his body despite the cool water surrounding you.

“Yeah,” you breathe, tilting your head up.

That’s all the invitation he needs.

His lips crash into yours, eager and desperate, like he’s been waiting for this moment forever. His hands grip your hips, pulling you flush against him as the water ripples around you. His tongue sweeps against yours, and you moan softly, threading your fingers through his damp hair.

He presses you back against the pier’s ladder, the metal cold against your skin, but his body is warm—so warm. His hands roam, mapping every inch of you, and soon, all that exists is him. The water splashes softly as he lifts you, positioning you just right.

“Fuck,” he mutters against your throat. “You’re so perfect…”

You bite your lip, arching into him as he pushes inside, slow but deep. The sensation makes your breath hitch, your fingers digging into his shoulders. He groans, forehead pressing against yours as he starts moving, each thrust sending waves rippling across the lake.

It’s frantic and messy, all pent-up emotions and unspoken feelings spilling out between gasps and moans. He grips the ladder behind you for leverage, his other hand cupping the back of your neck as he kisses you like he never wants to stop.

“God, I’ve wanted this for so long,” he confesses in a breathless whisper.

You whimper in response, rolling your hips against him. “Me too, Kiri…”

That seems to undo him completely.

His pace quickens, his breathing ragged as he chases his release, pulling you along with him. The pier creaks slightly with the movement, the night filled with nothing but the sound of water lapping against the wood and your shared moans.

And when you both finally unravel, tangled in each other, the world feels still—like it’s just the two of you, floating under the stars.

—

Later that night, back at the campfire, Kirishima is slumped against the log, cheeks flushed from alcohol and lingering post-bliss haze. You’re sitting beside him, barely able to keep a straight face as he suddenly claps a heavy hand on your shoulder.

“I love you,” he declares loudly, voice slurred but undeniably sincere.

The entire group goes dead silent.

Bakugo chokes on his drink.

Mina’s jaw drops.

Sero and Kaminari immediately start howling with laughter.

“You what?!” Mina shrieks.

Kirishima blinks slowly, as if just realizing what he said. Then, he groans, burying his face in his hands. “Shit.”

You laugh, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “I love you too, dumbass.”

The group erupts into chaos, but all you can focus on is Kirishima’s dopey, lovestruck grin as he leans into you.

Maybe this camping trip wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

[xiiithhazard]

Chaos Control

Knuckles tracks down a chaos source that could threaten his home. (Movie Verse)

Word Prompt – Begrudging

@year-of-the-echidna

(Warnings at the end)

…

Knuckles opened his eyes when something seemed to pull at him, something from inside his own body. A sensation he hadn’t felt since finding The Master Emerald, signifying the end of his journey. However, as he sat up in his bed and focused, he realized that kind, yet demanding touch had returned.

Turning around he checked on his brothers, both of whom were still fast asleep, neither one of them even aware of the strange energy in the air. Not even Sonic, who had been the last to hold possession of the Emerald, before it had been lost to the void, upon the destruction of the eclipse cannon.

Another tug against his soul and Knuckles slowly got up, making his way toward the window and looked out at the stars. However, the pull did not originate from there. It was instead much closer. Coming from the surface of the planet he currently stood upon.

Again, it pulled on him and he could no longer ignore it. And so, taking one last moment to make sure that his clan would be safe while he was gone, he silently leapt to the circular window in the ceiling and made his way out onto the roof. Keeping his steps light upon the tiles as he oriented himself, finally focusing on the direction in which he was being called.

…

It took him a couple of hours to finally pinpoint the exact location of the energy source. Though the closer he got to it, the less he was sure of what it was. The sensation of pure chaos was that of the emeralds, yet it was only one.

He’d been afraid of that.

Without him present to restore it, the seven Chaos Emeralds were now let loose upon the world. Separated and scattered to who knew where, doing who knew what, just waiting for some unlucky sap to pick one up and go mad with power. That was why, even if the sensation of its energy felt worryingly - off, he had to secure it before something happened.

However, his quest was cut short, when the pull led him straight into the solid stone face of a cliff. Grumbling to himself, the echidna turned his eyes to the top of the wall, trying to focus on the pull and its point of origin. But it wasn’t coming from above, so he walked alongside the wall for a bit, only to snap back when the energy signal moved.

He only just managed to get his arm up to defend himself, as a mass of Chaos power crashed into him, and he had to swallow a scream of pain when his already broken wrist cracked under the pressure. With his vision going white for a second, he couldn’t see what was attacking him, before it suddenly snapped out of existence, only to reappear on his undefended side. However, this time he’d sensed it coming and reached out to wrap his fist around the attacking figure’s neck.

Twisting his whole body into the throw, he leveled the creature directly into the cliff face. The force of the impact sending a crack charging up the wall and creating a massive hole where a familiar shape rested at the center, clearly shocked by the sudden turn of events. And, for a horrifying second, Knuckles thought it was Sonic. But when his vision cleared of the pain, he realized it was another hedgehog.

“Shadow?” He asked, honestly shocked. They had all believed him to be dead. But before he could determine anything else, the hedgehog lifted his head, eye’s sparking with orange chaos energy, as he vanished again.

Still able to sense the lingering power of the Master Emerald within his attacker, Knuckles was able to pinpoint his returning location and prepared his defenses for the impact. However, he was still sent flying back into the forest from the pure strength behind the strike.

Branches and leaves snapped under him, as he rolled into the fall, eventually coming to a harsh stop at the base of a large tree, where he found himself gasping for air, his ribs protesting with each breath. But yet, he couldn’t help but smile. It had been so long since he’d had a worthy opponent, and while he truly loved his new home, there was really nothing there that could challenge him.

However, he kept his excitement in check, as he could still sense the vortex of energies inside his opponent. Now that he was close enough, he realized it was not a chaos emerald at all, but instead an intense built up of pure power that was likely equivalent to one, yet this was darker, fueled by fear and rage.

It was so intense that he was actually surprised Shadow was keeping it under control at all. Of course, that was before he looked up to find that the hedgehog had stopped his attack and was instead meandering about, clutching his head in pain. Clearly fighting to stay in command. However, the more he pushed it back down, the more pressure was built.

Even he wouldn’t be able to contain it forever.

Understanding now what he was looking at, Knuckles carefully got back to his feet, causing the hedgehog to freeze up for a split second, before turning to lock his eyes on the echidna. An action that honestly made him look more like a cornered and frightened animal, than the power chaos warrior he really was. But it didn’t take long for that unnatural vulnerability to fade again, replaced by a more familiar rage.

“What do you want?” He growled. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

Realizing that his intentions had been misunderstood, Knuckles opened his mouth to explain. But didn’t get the chance, before the hedgehog was attacking him again. And, again, this was not a normal reaction.

Though they had met just a few times and fought only once, Knuckles had gotten a good read on his opponent. Shadow wasn’t the type to strike first, he was more patient than that, he waited for the opportunity, when his enemy had dropped their guard in the initial, overconfident moments of their attack. The fact that he had given up on the strategy that had won him so many battles was proof of just how panicked he truly was.

However, Knuckles couldn’t afford to show him sympathy. Shadow was not someone he could simply hesitate against. If he didn’t fight back, the hedgehog would go right through him.

Sensing the incoming attack, he dodged, just as Shadow reappeared to crush the tree he’d been leaning against. The force of the blow, sending the thing tumbling into the forest, but having missed his original opponent, the attack also left him slightly off kilter.

Taking advantage of this, Knuckles rushed in for a hit of his own and managed to just make contact, before the hedgehog snapped away. He didn’t get far, as he reappeared only a few feet to the right. But the force of Knuckles’ attack had not been negated, so he was left to slide and tumble across the forest floor, until he finally came to rest in a pile.

Keeping his guard up, the echidna carefully approached the unmoving form, hoping he hadn’t gone too far. But he pulled up again, when Shadow finally moved, slowly getting to his hands and knees, struggling for the breath that had been knocked out of him.

Eventually, his shock led him to look up and, for a moment, he looked like Shadow again, not afraid, just confident, maybe even impressed. But then the moment was shattered, as his body suddenly erupted with energy and he screamed, clutching at his head again, his chaotic presence moving erratically, as if torn between worlds. The power within him ready to rip itself free of his body and consume everything around it.

Feeling the buildup of energy, Knuckles’ attention was momentarily called toward the Wachowski home and the surrounding town. If the hedgehog’s power were to detonate, everything within miles would be leveled. Including his clan.

Immediately, he disregarded his own safety and rushed forward to take hold of Shadow’s arm, noticing that one of his gold rings was missing. But he didn’t get much of a chance to consider this fact, as the second he made contact with the hedgehog, the unfiltered chaos energy surged through his body, and he was flung backward again.

Thankfully, he didn’t get too far before he crashed into a boulder, but the impact left him momentarily dazed, and he felt a trickle of blood run down his face. However, before he could get up to try again, Shadow appeared to regain some form of control. But unfortunately, it was directed at him.

Shadow had always walked a fine line between light and darkness, but now he seemed to be teetering dangerously close to the abyss. His eyes were wild, unfocused, a storm of agony and rage, as the chaos energy threatened to consume him. And Knuckles knew that he had to act. Not just to protect everyone else from the disastrous fallout, but to protect his own life.

Summoning his strength, he pushed himself off the boulder, launching himself at Shadow and barely ducking under a wild energy blast that scorched the air above him. And, in a desperate and awkward reach, he finally got a hold on Shadow's arm.

Immediately he felt the searing heat of chaos raging through his body once more, but this time, he held on, trying desperately to ground the erratic energy. Of course, Shadow was not going to make it easy. As he quickly struck out with his other hand, hitting the echidna straight in the head and opening the already bleeding wound there, before changing his tactic and snapped them both to another location.

Somehow, despite all odds, Knuckles managed to keep his hold on the hedgehog, as they fell through the forest canopy, hitting the ground hard as they fought for control of the situation. Chaos sparking around them, turning leaves and twigs straight to ash and leaving scorch marks on anything it touched.

At some point, Knuckles realized that the screaming in his ears wasn’t just Shadow’s anymore, but also his own. The pain was so intense his body had simply stopped registering it. However, his mind was still reacting, trying to get him to let go. But he couldn’t, he had to hold on, he had to keep it under control – even if it killed him.

…

 “I’m – sure he’s fine.” Sonic said, though he wasn’t even able to convince himself let alone Maddie, who’d been waiting by the window for the last two hours. “It’s not like he hasn’t disappeared before.”

This was true, of course, that had been in the early days following Knuckles’ acceptance to the family. It had taken him a number of months to grow accustomed to the idea that he was now accountable to other people. People that worried about him when he disappeared for days on end. But he had slowly come to understand that, if he planned to be gone, he had to, at the very least, leave a note.

It hadn’t even been a full day since the family had woken up to discover their resident warrior was missing. But they’d just assumed he was training or patrolling. So, they had started their day like any other, expecting him to be back in time to eat. But breakfast had come and gone without him, leaving Maddie particularly irritated, but it was what it was. Then lunch had passed them by and still no sign of Knuckles, that was when she had started her pacing. It was almost dinner time now and the sun had almost completely set. Now they were all starting to worry.

“It’s not like him.” Maddie insisted for the hundredth time, as Tom walked up beside her to check the window as well.

“Alright boys.” He said softly but firmly causing Sonic and Tails to perk up, as the man turned to them. “Time to start the search.”

“Tom.” Maddie proclaimed sternly, reaching out to stop him from opening the door. “You just got out of the hospital. You’re not going anywhere.”

“But –”

“We will be searching.” She indicated the boys and herself, before poking the man in the chest, being careful of his broken collarbone. “You will be staying here; in case he comes home.”

The poor guy looked like he wanted to argue, it was almost painful to watch him give up on the idea of looking for one of his kids, but he knew she was right and complaining about it would only waste precious minutes of daylight.

Giving Tails a minute to get his bag of gadgets, they each took a flashlight and stepped out into the encroaching night, only to pause when something slowly emerged from the forest.

“Knuckles?” Sonic asked the too large form, stepping up to put himself between it and his family, in case it was something else. However, he just ended up staring, like a deer in headlights, when Maddie flipped on her flashlight to show them what it was.

It was Knuckles, but he was covered in blood and burns and looked to only be barely conscious. Despite that, he was still moving forward, carrying something on his back.

“Oh my god.” Maddie breathed in horror, being the first to respond, as she raced down the steps to him. Eventually everyone else followed, only to be pulled up again, when they got closer look at what Knuckles was carrying.

“Shadow?” Sonic whispered in both shock and anger, unable to really decide which was more appropriate for the moment. On the one hand, this was the hedgehog that had nearly killed his father and had seemingly just tried to kill his older brother too. But on the other, they’d also worked together to save the world just a few weeks before.

Needless to say, he was a tad conflicted when Knuckles locked onto his eyes, breathing harshly, and seemingly only able to open one eye, as the other was caked in blood. But he remained focused as he spoke. “Containment.” He forced out, but it seemed to use all the breath he had collected, as he had to lower his head to get more, prompting Sonic to finally snap out of his stupor and rush forward.

“What?” He asked, getting as close to his brother as possible, so he could hear what he had to say.

“His energy – it requires – containment.” He finally explained, before finally losing the battle with consciousness and collapsed. But Sonic was there to catch him, slowly lowering his brother to the ground, before lifting Shadow away, so Maddie could check him over.

By the time the two of them managed to carry Knuckles into the house, Tom and Tails had set up a makeshift hospital, clearing the living room for a mattress to take up space, and every single medical or veterinary object in the house was now placed somewhere nearby.

 Trusting Maddie to help his brother, Sonic forced himself to leave and return to the yard. Thankfully, the other hedgehog was still out cold and exactly where he’d left him. Though he wasn’t exactly sure what to do about it.

Eventually Tails followed him, having left to find something that could fulfill Knuckles’ request to contain Shadow’s energy. Though the only thing he’d come up with were the titanium handcuffs, which he had designed to hold creatures with massive amounts of energy like Sonic or Knuckles, so they could only hope it would be enough. In the end, they opted for two sets, one for his hands, the other for his feet. Just so the hedgehog couldn’t wake up in a bad mood and go on another rampage. After a couple of minutes, they also decided to bring him inside, if for no other reason, then he would be easier to keep an eye on there.

“How – is he?” Tails asked in a tiny, worried voice. Finding a place where he wouldn’t be in the way but also close enough that he could hold Knuckles’ hand, as Maddie cleaned and dressed his wounds.

“Thankfully, it’s not as bad as it looks.” She explained, obviously distressed, but was holding it together as their most experienced doctor. “But – he’s burning up and I don’t know why?”

Sonic came over as well, watching as Tails pulled out his little handheld computer to scan the echidna. However, before he could do so, Knuckles suddenly shifted, as if he were waking up and they all quickly rushed in, wanting to be there when he did. However, it seemed that Maddie had noticed something they hadn’t as she suddenly rushed to put her arms around his head, just before his body convulsed again.

“What’s happening?” Sonic demanded, only for Tom to pick up on the problem as well and pulled him and Tails back, as their brother began to shake and jerk, his back jackknifing so sharply that their feared it was about to break. But Maddie was able to roll him onto his side, still holding his head protectively, somehow able to keep his neck straight.

Eventually everyone else joined in, doing what they could to keep him still, as the full effects of the seizure took over, and his unnatural strength was suddenly turned against him. It took everything they had and maybe a little divine intervention, but they were able to keep him safe, as red chaos energy sparked to life, around the room.

It seemed to go on forever, but thankfully, at some point, everything slowly began to calm down again, and Knuckles started to breathe a little easier.

“Shhhh.” Maddie whispered, gently holding his hand when he mumbled something in his sleep. “It’s okay. We’re here. You’re safe.” She promised. Tears running down her checks, as she pressed their foreheads together.

“Tails.” Tom spoke up, turning to the fox and softly rubbed the kid’s back as he stood staring at his injured brother in complete horror. But the contact quickly brought him out of it and Tom handed him back his computer, knowing the best thing for the fox to do, in that moment, was distract himself. However, when he finally got the opportunity to run a scan and check over his findings, he seemed even more alarmed by what he’d discovered.

“What is it?” Sonic demanded worriedly, and the fox shook himself out of his shock once again.

“He – his body is full of chaos energy.” Everyone looked understandably confused by that.

“Isn’t that – normal, for him?” Tom asked, but Tails shook his head.

“Yes, but not like this.” He insisted, tapping at his computer, like he wasn’t sure if it was working properly. “His energy is usually neutral. But – now it’s got a negative charge. I – I don’t understand. That shouldn’t be possible. Unless –” He paused for a second, clearly coming up with an idea and lifted his eyes to look at Shadow. “Unless he absorbed someone else’s.”

“He can do that?” Sonic asked, but even Tails didn’t look convinced by his own hypothesis.

“I don’t know – in theory, he should be able to channel chaos energy, the same way you do with the Emeralds. But – normally someone with an innate chaos of their own can only handle one type at a time.” He looked up at Sonic, as if needing eye contact to calm himself down. “For example, your chaos charge is positive, if you were to take negative energy into your body, it would make you really, really sick, maybe – maybe even kill you.”

Sonic felt his heart skip a beat, as he looked back at Knuckles, who was thankfully still breathing. But – he’d never before been so badly hurt that he’d lost consciousness, and he’d certainly never had a seizure. “He – he’s gonna be okay – right?” He finally asked, looking back at the fox, who again looked unsure.

“I don’t even know how he managed to absorb this much energy, let alone survive the charge distortion.” He insisted, making everyone wince at his distracted word choice. “But, maybe –” He filtered off again, once more speculating the nature of this strange event. “It could be that his connection to the Master Emerald has given him a stronger advantage, maybe even an innate ability to channel and – possibly purify chaos energy.”

He suggested this as more of a question than a statement. As he clearly had no idea and just wanted to come up with something, anything but the presumption that his brother was simply dying.

“Hey.” Tom cut in, kneeling down to bring both Tails and Sonic into a one-armed hug. “Don’t you guys worry about him. You know Knuckles is more stubborn than that.”

Well, that was true.

Of course, they didn’t get the chance to discuss it further, before another moan had them all turning to look at the couch, as this one had instead come from Shadow. Immediately, Sonic was on his feet, putting himself between the hedgehog and his family, as the guy slowly opened his eyes and became aware of the fact that he was handcuffed.

This obviously woke him up, as he quickly tested his strength against the titanium. But, as promised, Tails had built them to withstand just about anything. Eventually his attention was instead drawn to Sonic, leaving them to just stare each other down for nearly a full minute, before Tom stood up to address the heavy atmosphere.

The effect was almost instant, as Shadow turned to look at him, his eyes widened in shock and all he could do was stare at the man, who he clearly believed to be dead.

“Hey, it’s alright.” Tom insisted when Sonic moved again to stand directly in front of his father, his fear and anger causing blue energy to radiate from his body. But the man was able to get ahold of his shoulder and gently bring him back to earth. “We’re all friends here. Isn’t that right Shadow?”

The hedgehog blinked as these words seemed to pull him from his stupor. However, he was clearly unable to respond, so Sonic did it for him. “Friends!?” He proclaimed in horror. “Are you kidding me? He nearly –”

“It was just an accident.” Tom insisted kindly, still not taking his eyes off of Shadow. “Just a simple case of mistaken identity – right?” He asked, and Shadow jumped as if his spirit had just slammed back into his body.

“I –” He tried, forcing himself to finally look away from the man he’d nearly killed, only to notice Knuckles instead and he tensed up again, causing Sonic to get right in his face this time. However, his rage soon dissipated, when Shadow looked up to meet his eyes and he remembered the moment, on the moon, when they’d been in nearly the same position. He’d been unable to act on his anger then – and couldn’t do it now.

Eventually Sonic managed to pull his eyes away and stood with his fists clenched and his breathing heavy, as he fought down the surge of chaos energy in his body, until it was finally gone.

“How?” Shadow spoke up again and Sonic twitched, but didn’t move, as the other hedgehog looked down at his cuffed wrists, not even trying to escape them anymore. “How did I get here?”

The room was quiet for a moment, but it was Tails that eventually broke the tension. “Knuckles carried you here.” He explained, his voice was a little jittery, but he was staying strong. Even when Shadow looked up at him, clearly shocked by this information and he turned to study the echidna once again. Only to quickly look away, when Sonic tensed up, prepared to jump in and defend his brother, if the black hedgehog so much as breathed the wrong way. However, Tails somehow found the courage to step forward and continue their conversation. “He – has a large amount of negative chaos energy in his body. Is – it yours?”

“What?” Shadow asked, clearly confused. Only to seemingly remember something and he looked down at his hands again, specifically focusing on his right wrist, which was missing an inhibitor ring. “He –” He proclaimed in shock, looking back at Knuckles, despite Sonic’s warning, only this time he looked almost flabbergasted, maybe even somewhat humbled. “He helped me? But – why?”

This got everyone’s attention, as it was pretty clear that Shadow was far too traumatized to lie. “What do you mean he helped you? What did he do?” Tails insisted, trying to collect as much data as possible, in order to help his brother. But, for a moment, the hedgehog just looked back at his hands, clenching and unclenching his fists, before finally answering the fox’s question.

“Without my ring – my power was unstable. I couldn’t control it anymore. I was – I was going to – die.” He admitted simply, looking back at Knuckles once again. “He must have syphoned it off. That’s the only way I could still be alive right now.”

“Okay.” Tails muttered shakily, running his thoughts through his brain analyzer. “Can – you syphon it back?” He asked, but Shadow only shook his head.

“I don’t have that ability. I’m honestly surprised that he does.”

Tails made a noise of deep concern and bit his finger in consideration. Desperately trying to find a way to help his brother, before finally focusing on Shadow’s inhibitor rings, and reached over to poke one, barely even noticing anymore that he was in the presence of their most dangerous enemy to date. “Would these be able to help him?” He asked, but again Shadow shook his head.

“They are designed to contain my power, not remove it.”

The fox was about to ask another question, when Maddie called them back and they all turned to find that Knuckles was actually waking up. Though he was still groggy and not all there yet.

“Knuckles.” Maddie whispered, gently rubbing her thumb along the bridge of his muzzle. “Hey honey. Talk to me.”

“Mo – ther.” He mumbled and everyone kind of started a little, having never heard him call her that before. However, it wasn’t exactly clear whether he was aware of this fact or if it was a case of mistaken identity, and Maddie looked as if she might melt into a puddle of happy tears, so no one had the heart to either confirm or deny it.

Eventually, with a little more coxing, the echidna opened his eyes. Though they were dull and unfocused at first, he started to slowly come around. Leading Tails to pull out his computer again and scan him.

“What?” Sonic asked, when the little fox looked at his screen in shock.

“It’s – going down.” Tails proclaimed in a tone of voice that suggested that this simply should not be possible.

“What?” Shadow demanded and they turned back to him. “Where is it going?” He asked, clearly aware that that would be the only reason for the fox’s explanation. But Tails only shrugged, looking back at his computer again and smiled a nervous little grin, clearly happy that his brother was okay, even if there was no explanation for it.

“Contain?” Knuckles told the ceiling groggily, as he tried to get his arms to work and push himself up, but he didn’t accomplish much more than getting Maddie irritated with him.

“Don’t worry, big guy.” Sonic told him, kneeling down to place his hand on the echidna’s shoulder, to help keep him from moving, and smiled when their eyes met. “We got it under control. Now the only thing you need to do is get better.”

This finally helped the warrior to relax, in fact, they’d never seem him look so relieved. It made them wonder just what kind of serious situation they had truly missed in the subtests. Either way, he was able to focus on other things now, as he slowly turned to look at Maddie again, his expression a little drunkenly sheepish.

“I’m – sorry.” He offered, looking like he was afraid he was about to be grounded. “I’m – late for breakfast.”

…

They tried moving Knuckles to the spare room, or Shadow to the garage, but the echidna was having none of it. Despite not even being able to sit up yet, he insisted on keeping an eye on the hedgehog. Which meant that Sonic was pretty much permanently rooted to a nearby chair. And Tails had moved everything he’d need into the dining room, so he could work on something to help contain Shadow’s energy while still being close by.

Tom seemed to magically appear anytime there was even a hint of animosity. Maddie was usually checking on Knuckles’ or Shadow’s recovery or making sure that her husband didn’t do anything he wasn’t supposed to. An endless task, considering the man’s worst enemy was boredom.

Then there was good old Ozzy, who was always whenever someone needed a snuggle or a pet. He even managed to get through to Shadow a few times. Of course, Shadow hadn’t moved from the couch once since he’d gotten there. And thankfully seemed content to keep it that way, at least until Tails was finished with his new inhibitor ring.

“Why did you help me?” Sonic opened his eyes, when Shadow said this and slowly shifted until he could see the other two occupants of the room. It was night and everyone was supposed to be asleep. However, Knuckles casually opened his eyes as if he’d just been waiting for the black hedgehog to speak.

“Because I had to.” He whispered back. “Your energy was unstable. If I had done nothing, it would have destroyed my home.” He clenched his fists, before turning to glare at Shadow. “I have lost everything once. I will not allow it to happen again.”

Shadow looked shocked by this reviolation and slowly looked away from the echidna’s intense stare. “Still, you could have achieved the same goal – by just killing me.” He pointed out, only for Knuckles to suddenly sit bolt upright, despite clearly feeling some discomfort from the action.

“Do not tell me how to achieve my goals, hedgehog.” He snarled angrily, somehow able to keep his voice down, so as not to wake anyone else. “For years others have tried to make me kill for them. I would not do it then; I will not do it now.”

Sonic twitched at this sudden revelation, realizing that his brother was talking about things that he’d never brought up before. He had always claimed that his past was just that ‘the past’ and he had no need for it anymore. However, it seemed that something about his interaction with Shadow had opened the flood gates.

And it appeared that Shadow was picking up on this as well, as he slowly turned to look at him again. “If those people were truly so evil, then killing them would have been a blessing.” He insisted, clearly convinced of that, as he met Knuckles gaze firmly and without fear. However, the echidna didn’t waver either.

“Perhaps.” He admitted.

“Then why not just kill them? You have the power.”

It was Knuckles who looked away this time and lifted his hands as if to check them for something. “I nearly did.” He said and Sonic started to feel uncomfortable. He didn’t want to spy on his brother, but at the same time, he couldn’t make himself speak up. “I faced that monster you refer to as revenge.” Knuckles spoke again and looked back at Shadow, more determined than he had been before. “And it nearly consumed me.”

Shadow blinked and honestly looked a bit taken aback. “So?” He finally asked. “At least you would have had –”

“I would have had nothing.” Knuckles corrected him sternly. “Killing him would not have taken my pain away or returned the years that he took from me. All I would have achieved was becoming that which I hated.” It was clear that Shadow had never actually considered this in his own quest for revenge, as he suddenly looked far away in his thoughts, which made Knuckles soften his words as well. “It took everything I had to get back even a small piece of myself, when all was said and done.” He revealed quietly and Shadow looked back at him again. “If I had turned against my own beliefs, turned against everything I knew to be right. I would not have been able to find even that. I would never be able to face my father again.”

Shadow considered this for well over a minute, before finally speaking up, though there was something else in his voice now. Like he was in physical pain, upon realizing just how close he had come to doing the same thing, to turning against everything Maria had stood for and never being able to face her memory.

“You said – you lost everything once?” He asked, almost like he hadn’t meant the words to actually be said aloud. However, he still looked back at the echidna, prepared to finish the question anyway. “What is – everything?”

Knuckles just continued to stare at his hands for another moment, lost in his own thoughts. “Everything.” He answered simply. “My clan, my father, my home, my freedom, even my own memories were slowly stripped away. The person I once was – died, and I have never been able to get it back.” He finally looked up at Shadow again, an odd softness to his eyes now. “But – I have found a new life now. I have a family here, friends, brothers. And I have slowly come to find the person that I want to be. It is not the same, but that doesn’t matter. This is my island to protect. This is my home.”

Shadow slowly looked up again and he too seemed to soften a little, to the point where he almost smiled. “How did you do it?” He whispered and Knuckles smiled back, before turning to look over his shoulder and Sonic jumped, as he met his eyes.

Realizing he’d been caught, or maybe they’d known all along that he was listening, he smiled back and slowly untangled himself from his blanket. Then he sighed and looked at Shadow, finally feeling all of his anger and fear fading away. If Knuckles could do it, after losing so much more than anyone should ever have to, then how could he, the one who’d actually managed to pull him back from the edge, do any less.

“It’s not easy, Shadow.” He spoke up at last, the other hedgehog seemingly coming alive for the first time since they had met. As the three of them found connection in their shared losses and their shared love. “But you don’t do it for yourself.” Sonic continued, feeling tears in his eyes. “You do it for them. The ones we had to leave behind. Because – if we don’t live for them, no one else will.”

…

Chapter 2

(Warnings: Blood, seizures, death, trauma, loss, mentions of slavery)

[zealousllamawolf]

Lost in the Woods (Alastor x Reader) Part 2

!!Minors Please DNI!!

Pairing- Alastor x Reader

Summary- After having a heated moment before someone interrupts Alastor eagerly comes back to show you what you had missed.

Word Count- 1.7K

Warnings- none I think

Tags- SMUT, blood sharing, rough sex, p in v, oral (Alastor receiving) OOC Alastor if you blink.

Part 1

~Alastor’s POV~

  Alastor scuffs as he pulls Nifty out of the ice machine behind that bar sitting her down, wiping the ice flakes off her nose. “There you go dear’ he wipes his hands on his coat, turning to look at Charlie. “Now, was all you need darling,’ a hint of annoyance bubbled over, eager to return to your disheveled body in the bayou.

  “Yes, sorry about that,” Charlie shuffles awkwardly at his impatience.

  ‘’You know how Nifty is, who knows what bug she went after.” Alastor chuckles patting Nifty on the head, lighting up his tone. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind, I have business to attend to” he smiles mischievously as he disappears back into the shadows moving through them to his room.

  Desire once returning to his crotch stretching the fabric tautly, clearing his throat once he remembers the feeling of your cunt under in fingers, wondering if you were wet below the thin barrier of clothes. Alastor decision to leave his shadow to watch over you paid off; there you were stripping off your clothes down to just your undergarments as he watched though his shadow’s eyes. You make your way over the pond’s dock before sticking your foot in the water seemly to evaluate the temperature.

  Once Alastor reaches his room, he teleported to the edge of the pond near the dock behind you. Taking in your figure though half-lidded eyes his stare trails up and down your body stopping around your plump backside before noticing a large thin scar that trailed around your waist following the curve of your hip before stopping above your lower back. You were perfect, he thought to himself grinning lustfully.

  “My, my dear, it seems you have made yourself quite comfortable” his voice dropping lowly, you jump and lose your balance tipping backwards into the water. Alastor rushes forward, dropping to his knees he peers over the edge waiting for you to break the surface for air, when you didn’t come back up after a long thirty seconds the duckweed blocking his view under the water Alastor quickly stands up and throw off his coat off, kicking off his shoes unbuttoning his shirt before scanning the water’s surface again. He leans down again over the dock’s edge as your faces pops up under a lily pad hiding underneath staring up at Alastor grinning.

“Oh, you checky girl.” Alastor says breathlessly hanging his head lowly in relief, the tension leaving his shoulders. Why did he feel such a need to dive in the water after you? He wanted to protect you, keeping you all to himself, wanted to mark you and show everyone you were his and his only. Anger starter to rise unable to catch his breath, he pants out “Never do that again,’ wincing at his sharp tone he adds, “Please,’ softly.

He watches you swim up to him resting your arms on the dock you grab his arm reassuringly, “Okay, I won’t if you come in here with me” you say pushing yourself up enough out of the water and plant a soft kiss on his cheek before trailing kisses down his jawline, Alastor growls in response hastily shedding his shirt and pants. A night swim is a bad idea anyways, Alastor indulges.

 He sits down with his feet over the edge before slipping in the lukewarm water completely submerging himself even though he can touch the bottom. He feels his shoulder being yanked up by your hands, so he abides rising himself up out the water, directly in front of you. You wrap your hands around his shoulders and link your legs around his waist. Alastor groans at the sudden pressure pressing against his crotch and bring his hands to your hips noticing your panties were no longer on your bottom as well as your bare chest pressing against his, in the distance he sees your undergarments floating at the surface.

 “Ha, ha so eager little doe.” Alastor says as he runs his hands to your ass cheeks gripping them tightly. You throw back your head grinding against his hardening cock. “But patience is a virtue,’ he says teasing.

  Alastor twists around with you still connected at the hips. He pushes further into the water on his back, the movement sliding his length down your uncovered core making you moan at the friction. Resting your hands on his chest you arch your back allowing him to see your breasts peeking up out of the water duckweed sticking to your upper half.

  “But Alastor, I need you,’ you say pleadingly.

  “Oh, forgive me but I thought we were taking a nice night swim?” he cocks an eyebrow at you, making you frown in desperation, Alastor gins enjoying teasing you knowing he will not be able to hold out much longer as his cock twitches with desire.

  You lean down and plant a feverish kiss directly on his, sliding your tongue on his bottom lip tasting a hint a blood from his fresh cut lip. The heat from your kiss snaps something in Alastor and in an instant, he teleports both of you to the closest tree, pushing you against the trunk. He deepens the kiss exploring your mouth feeling one of your sharp canines nick his bottom lip making you kiss him more intensity. Alastor pulls back with a low groan.

  “You know idea what you are doing to me my dear,” Alastor says breathless shuddering when you run your fingers through his hair gripping at the root making him suck in a breath.

  “S-show me, Al” you beg grinding on his cock.

  “It hurts that you assume I would give in that quickly silly girl.” Alastor lies slickly through his teeth, chuckling when you pout at him although it does not last too long before you unwrap your legs from his waist and start to get on your knees running your hands down his chest as you meet the ground stopping when you reach his hips. “So perfect,’ he whispers when you start to pull down his briefs.

  You look up with pleading eyes “May I sir?” his cock twitched at being called ‘sir,’ he runs his thumb on your cheekbone glowing down at you and nods.

  He used his spare arm and rest it against the tree letting out a moan as you free his throbbing cock, the cool air cooling his precum that started to gather at his aching red tip. He watches as you stare hungrily at his length groaning as your mouth encases his tip, sliding down taking him inch by inch till your mouth takes all of him.

  “So sweet of you taking my cock like a good girl.” Alastor gasps as you pull him out of your mouth twirling your tongue around his tip before diving back down again picking up speed, moaning sends vibrations all around his cock, resulting in him thrusting into to your mouth going past the curve of your throat. “Mmh, you make me feel so good darling,” you look up at him unable to say anything as he gently thrusts into your mouth tears forming in your eyes. You slide him out of your mouth with a pop.

 “Are you going to show me now how much I make you feel good now?” you ask cheekily, Alastor respond by picking you back up like you weighed nothing, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist again, teasing you with his tip lined up with your dripping entrance. Aching your back made his tip slip in making you moan at the sensation; you try to lower yourself further on to his cock but his firm hands stops you. You look at him with a crazed face, but he just stares at you grinning maliciously before thrusting into you with such force making you release all the air from your lungs. You gasp unable to catch your breath as he does not stop before pulling out of you, slamming back into your gummy walls. “O-oh God,” you shudder.

  “No dear its only me here and me only making you feel this way.” Alastor starts roughing fucking you into the tree. He does not stop there, forcing your legs higher pressing them against your chest, all that was holding you up now was your back firmly pressed against the tree and the pace he thrusted into you. Every time he pulls out, his tip pressed against your g-spot making waves of pleasure course though your body, he feels your walls clamp around his cock. Alastor changes his angle until he hits the right spot making you moan his name, hearing his name come out of your swollen lip makes him go feral, the coil in his stomach tightens further, he knows your close too when your legs start to push against his hands.

  “Just like that Alastor, please” you beg tears falling down your face, your whole body tightens, and he hears you scream his name as your release floods your body, your walls spasming around his cock.

  “Almost there little doe.” He growls picking up his pace to unnatural pace chasing his own high.

  “C-can I bite you?” you say fixed gaze at his neck.

  “Yes, dear take your fill” you don’t wait till be finished speaking as your bit down hard at the curve of this throat, making his groan in pain, the sensation spread though his body right down to his cock, with one last trust he finishes inside of you panting. You do not stop your assault running your tongue against the wound you created until the blood stopped flowing freely.

  Pulling back both of you panting with his cock still buried deep in your cunt. He pulls out, his seed pouring out of your elevated cunt. You close your eyes as he carries you to his bedroom, he whispers pressing his mouth to your ear, “You did so well, but now it time for you to rest. You have a very busy night ahead of you.” He says softly.

  That was the last thing you hear before falling asleep in his arms. Alastor sighs contently with you sleeping on his chest, he slowly traced your faded scar wondering what happened.

~~~

A/N

I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

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Tag List

@cutesytwt @opulentshits @elegant-face-tree @walnutnut @lustylita

[anathemaspeaks]

dandelion wishes

character(s): shoto todoroki synopsis: always the bridesmaid, never the bride - isn't that how the saying goes? my name is momo yaoyorozu, and in my case, it's true. word count: 1.3k warning(s): none a/n: not my best work, but here you go anon :) likes, follows, and reblogs are appreciated <3 this is all from momo's point of view.

it happened at my birthday party, a day after i turned 16.

kaminari managed to somehow smuggle booze into the house. still teenagers and drunk off the excitement more than the liquor, someone suggested we play 7 minutes in heaven. everyone cheered in agreement - except bakugou, of course. he opted to stay sober and make sure we don't have too much fun.

after a few uneventful rounds, it was finally my turn to spin the bottle. i wished it would land on shoto. this was my chance to tell him how i feel about him. maybe he'd say something back? well, a girl can dream...right?

my heart hammered in my chest as i gripped the bottle, spinning it on the polished wooden floor. every spin felt like an eternity until it finally landed with a decisive click. i traced the path of the neck, breath catching in my throat as i saw it pointed directly at todoroki. this was it. this was my chance.

we awkwardly shuffled towards the closet, the door creaking shut behind us, the dim light casting shadows on the wall. before i could calm my nerves and speak, todoroki blurted

"listen, about the spin…" his voice was uncharacteristically soft, almost hesitant.

"yeah?" i forced a nonchalant reply, inhaling to try and calm my nerves. he ran a hand through his dual-colored hair, a faint blush creeping up his neck.

"actually, there's someone i... well, someone i kind of like." a sheepish grin tugged at the corner of his lips. it felt like the wind got knocked out of my lungs. my eyes darted around the cramped space, landing on a crumpled magazine lying forgotten on the floor. this was happening. finally.

"oh, cool," i choked out, my voice barely above a whisper, "who is it?" i asked nervously, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

a beat of silence.

"y/n" he mumbled, a shy smile on his lips. the name rang in my ears, shattering my dreams of a chance with shoto. i forced a smile, "oh."

maybe this was for the best.

maybe y/n would make him happy in a way i couldn't, maybe she was what he had wanted all along.

maybe y/n wouldn't have walked out of this closet with a broken heart hidden behind a painted grin.

of course it was her. it made perfect sense. her smile could light up a whole room, kindness radiating from her like sunshine. she was effortlessly beautiful. she was everything i couldn't be. everything i wanted to be. pretty, smart, funny, strong and kind.

how could i ever compete with that? a pang of jealousy, sharp and unwanted, twisted in my gut. i should be happy for them.

and yet the feeling wouldn't leave.

my gaze flickered up to shoto's shy smile, and the way his eyes seemed to light up just at the mere mention of her. a hollow ache settled in my chest, envy so deep it felt like a barbed wire wrapped around my heart.

shoto's turn.

i held my breath, the unsettling feeling in my gut worsening each second. when the bottle stopped spinning, it landed on y/n.

of course it did.

as if tonight could've gotten any worse.

they emerged from the closet looking like a tornado had hit them. clothes askew, hair a mess, and faces flushed with a kind of unspoken ecstasy that left little to guess.

the next day, they walked into class hand-in-hand. it was official.

today marks 2 years since that day.

over this period, they became the textbook definition of the perfect couple. they were disgustingly cute. sneaky, affectionate, glances in the middle of lectures, whispered jokes that erupted in shared laughter, their hands seemingly glued together.

shoto 'resting bitch face' todoroki, weak, a complete loverboy for y/n. he'd wrap his arm casually around her waist, brush stray hairs from her face with a lingering touch, and steal kisses during training breaks. it was a side of him no one had ever seen - a shoto who wore his heart on his sleeve. for her.

here i was, stuck watching their picture-perfect love story unfold, a constant reminder of the confession that will forever remain trapped on my tongue.

we were sprawled across mina's living room floor, empty pizza boxes scattered around like confetti, and a half-eaten bag of chips resting precariously on a mountain of rom-com CDs. the topic, just like a normal beginning to a girls' night, was boys.

"boys are the worst!" mina declared, prompting a chorus of agreement from everyone.

"mine just left his gym socks under the bed again. seriously, how hard is it to use a laundry basket?" uraraka chimed in.

just then, y/n came in from the kitchen with a bag of marshmallows and sat down next to us. well, she wouldn't be participating in the complaining.

"look who finally decided to grace us with her presence," i teased, nudging her playfully.

"so, how are things going with the ice king, anyways?" asked jirou.

she blushed a bit. "oh, the usual. he's amazing, and he's surprisingly..." she trailed off, a sly smile on her face.

"surprisingly...?" mina prompted.

"let's just say his quirk isn't the only thing that's hot and cold."

the room erupted in laughter and whoops for her. i forced a laugh, feeling an all too familiar pang in my stomach.

the conversation continued, everyone chiming in with their recent stories about boys. including y/n. every detail felt like a knife to my heart. 'that should've been me' i thought. i pushed it away. i wouldn't let my jealousy get the best of me.

they all seemed so happy, while i was stuck on the sidelines, yearning to feel their joy. we all fell asleep in that room while watching movies and gossiping, a smile on everyone's tired faces. i still couldn't help but feel a little bitter. but i couldn't let it get the best of me.

now we all have finally graduated. we decided to still meet up every saturday for dinner, and this week, it was at todoroki's. the familiar buzz of anticipation and excitement filled the house as we all talked about our first week after graduating.

then, shoto and y/n walked in hand-in-hand.

"hi everyone!" greeted y/n, smile so bright it was contagious.

"sit wherever you're comfortable, dinner will be ready soon" announced shoto.

"but before that, there's something we have to tell you." she was practically shaking in eagerness.

todoroki cleared his throat, a faint blush creeping up his neck. "we, uh, well…" he fumbled for words, a rare sight for the usually composed half-and-half hero. she squeezed his hand reassuringly.

"we're engaged!" she blurted out, a wide grin on her face.

the air crackled with shock. wide eyes, dropped jaws, and a silence followed the announcement.

"wait, married?!" kaminari finally found his voice, his eyes wide with surprise. "but you guys are only eighteen!"

todoroki chuckled, a sound rarely heard before y/n. "we know," he admitted, a hint of shyness lingering in his voice. "but we knew what we wanted, and well, here we are," he added, a hand rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

and then, as if a dam had broken, the group erupted. mina squealed, launching herself at y/n in a bone-crushing hug. kirishima gave todoroki a hearty back slap, nearly knocking him over. uraraka, tears welling in her eyes, showered them both with congratulations.

"dumb brats, you're gonna regret this!" yelled bakugou. but i saw him turn away and wipe away a falling tear. both y/n and shoto engulfed him in a hug. he threatened to burn their arms off if they did it again, but the smile on his face was hard to ignore.

congratulations continued, hugs going all around. the surprise announcement had cast a whole new light on their evening. it was a celebration not just of friendship and graduation, but of a love story that had blossomed within the very walls of U.A., a love story we all saw unfold.

married. at eighteen. the words echoed in the hollow space where my confession had died. cheers rained down on them, a cruel confetti shower on my silent tears. my wish for him was as futile as willing a dandelion's wispy white petals not to fly away with the wind.

they were a love story written in stolen glances and secret touches, a masterpiece i could only watch unfold from the sidelines - a happy ever after that couldn't be mine.

to the anon who requested this, i know you wanted it to be more angsty so i tried to make it as vengeful as i could, i hope you like it! <3 (i accidentally deleted the ask I'M SO SORRY)

please send in requests everyone 🫶

[discotenny]

Lost you once

Chapter 1 ~ All there is, is you and me Where things go wrong following the escape from Sae's palace.

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Under the colorful fluorescents of Sae’s casino, all Ren can look at is you. 

In all your beauty, in all your grace, you dance above the lights with a smile that makes his heart flutter. Your presence shimmers like your blade as you fight your way through shadows. It shines like the chandeliers you swing from. As you intentionally put on a show, Ren almost feels jealous at how many eyes widen at your appearance. 

“Joker, stop staring at them! You need to keep up your own pace or you’re not getting out of there!” 

Futaba’s voice comes through his communicator, a warning lacing her teasing words as she alludes to the true plan he needed to carry out. Before the others could question her statement, Ryuji’s obnoxiously loud laughter pierces his ears. He can slightly hear Ann tell him to shut up but by then, Ren has already turned his eyes to look at you once more. 

Ren sees you giggle and send him a wink, blowing a kiss that he catches with his hand. As the large group of shadows you fight look over towards his hiding place, you take advantage of their distraction. 

“PERSONA!” 

Pandora’s Box- a myth said to hail from Ancient Greece. Pandora, the first woman ever alive, was blessed by the gods with gifts to guide her path. Among beautiful clothing, shining pearls, and wonderful musical sound, it was a singular box that took the attention of the girl. A gift she was warned not to open. And coupled with her innocently curious nature, it was a recipe for disaster.

The shadows dressed in suits laughed at you. After all, could you even fight with such an inconvenient persona? To them, it seemed you were better off fighting with your blade than some cumbersome box. 

Ren could see it in your eyes. The anger and the fury of being underestimated yet again. Through all their battles, you were the one that was always targeted, being thought of as the weakest link of their party. But time and time again- you would prove your worth and show it was a mistake to underestimate just how much damage you could do.  

When you first unlocked your persona, the thieves stood confused. No creature, no monster, no mythological being of any kind stood behind you and your new outfit. Instead, an ornate box appeared hovering in your hands. Nobody else could ever open the box except for you, and you wouldn’t tell anyone exactly what was in it either.

You glide your hand over the top, shifting the lid of the box to the side. It leaks out a black mass of smoke that enters your assailants lungs. Wretched coughs lined with the aftermath of your assault filled the air. 

You wielded the element of poison. With the smoke emanating from Pandora’s Box, you were able to inflict continuous damage on your opponents without even directly attacking.

For weaker enemies, the smoke was all you needed to put them out of commission long enough for you to get past. 

The group of shadows in front of you fall to their knees, gasping breaths as they heave on the floor. You walk past them, not bothering yourself to finish them off. You had a mission to complete, afterall. 

You hop onto the next chandelier, pausing as you survey the area to decide whether to jump down to the ground below or maneuver up to the elevated area above. 

“There are too many shadows below you to land down, Silhouette. There should be a platform with an exit door somewhere above you,” Futaba says. 

“Got it!” You say as you climb up the balcony. When your two feet touch solid floor, you turn around to see if Ren made it behind you. He makes eye contact with you and for a brief second your eyes soften and he forgets where he is- focusing on the beauty that is all of you . 

“Behind you, watch out!” Futaba’s voice interrupts his brief daze. Ren quickly climbs up, hiding himself as you turn to face the newly appeared opponent. “This one’s not like the others- make sure to be careful!” 

Your eyes narrow, sizing up the shadow in front of you. 

For stronger enemies, your poison wasn’t the only thing you’d need to use.

Manifesting your persona, you again flooded the arena with your black smoke. The poison begins to take effect, but as expected, the Moloch wouldn’t fall down with just that. It takes the opportunity to blast you with agidyne- which you just narrowly avoid. 

After dodging, you close the distance between you and the shadow. With the help of your intruding poison, you brandish your blade. It only takes three quick strikes to take it down. It cries as it vanishes into a black puddle, emanating a similar smoke as your own persona does. 

“Good job, Silhouette!” Akechi cuts through the communications and with a voice so cheery, no one on the line dares to comment further. Ren almost rolls his eyes at the facade he knows the detective is putting on. 

“Let’s keep moving- through those doors should be a maintenance area,” Futaba says. “Everyone else use escape route B!” 

Several chatters of agreement and acknowledgement follow her words. You turn to Ren and he nods in encouragement, already prepared to follow you through the doors and to the ends of the Earth itself. 

You head inside, going through quicker than you normally would have if you feared being caught. However, you had to. You needed to run ahead of Ren to make sure your opposition was reacting in the intended way for your plan to succeed. Keeping Akechi’s spirit in believing you were on your own escape route was part of it. Setting the stage for Ren to make his grand reveal was what was supposed to happen. 

Supposed to. 

Ren doesn’t know how it went so wrong. 

He was the one that leapt out the stained glass window, grabbing the attention of everyone in the premises. You were the one that took the quiet route at the last moment- through a set of unsuspecting gray doors. 

Ren can’t help but freeze as he stares at the scene in front of him. He can vaguely hear your voice fighting against your captors. He can barely see the outline of you trying to free yourself. He can just about feel your eyes begging at him for help. 

This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. 

A helicopter shines a blinding spotlight on his face and he flinches. He can’t move- he can’t think- and every possible voice in his ear but one is screaming at him to run. 

He doesn’t want to leave you there, and all he wants to do is run over and free you from your binding so you can run off yourself- but he can’t. Not when there are other people’s lives at stake, not when it’s not over just yet. The burden of being a leader means he can’t always do what he needs. 

And so he turns away. Away from your voice. Away from the outline of you. Away from your pleading eyes. 

Ren feels sick as he runs off, taking your intended escape route as a few policemen attempt to chase him. He out runs them all, of course. When he meets up with the rest of the thieves, your missing presence is deafening. 

Despite being free, Ren can’t help but feel like he’s lost. 

He was the one that was supposed to get captured, treated like a dog by the cops once more. You were the one bound to the ground- kicked around like you were nothing more than worthless trash. 

Ren tries to keep up the confident facade as he speaks with your panicked friends- reassuring them that everything was going to be alright. They all separate for the night following the short debrief at Le Blanc. The rest of them leave with a hesitant hope that despite the hiccup, their intended plan would turn out and you would return to them safe. 

Ren wasn’t so sure of it himself. Morgana paws at him as he sits in bed- the wide eyed distant stare Ren wears makes the cat question if he was even alive. His hands cover his nose and mouth as he replays the image of you being rough handled in his mind. He doesn’t want to imagine the horrors of what they may be putting you through in custody- but his memories of his own treatment leak into his thoughts and all he wants to do is cry. 

He desperately, desperately wants you in his arms, but all he can do is sit in his bed and sob like you’re already gone.

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Decided to split this fic up into parts because I hate doing constant scene changes in my fics lowk lowk. Also to get this out of draft hell LMAO >:3 I have parts 2 and 3 already written, with part 4 already drafted and partially complete. Be warned this has the unrequited love tag on ao3 for a reason...

[marvelskies1969]

Infinity

Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader / Loki x Fem!Reader

Premise: Y/N Rogers was sent away as a child, her powers deemed dangerous. After years of brief summers with Steve and Bucky, she returns for good when their mother dies—just as war begins.

As her abilities awaken, she draws the attention of Loki, the trickster god, and faces growing fear from those around her. Caught between destiny, war, and forbidden ties, Y/N must decide who she truly is—and who she’s willing to fight for.

Warnings/content: slight angst, brief mention of death/dying, jealousy, sexual assault, fluff, swearing, unstable parental relationships, follows the plot of the MCU timeline, with small changes.

[Masterlist]

[Part 2]

(Chapter 32)

Evolving

The streets of Stuttgart were unnervingly quiet, the usual city bustle muted under the weight of fear. People knelt in submission, heads bowed, as Loki stood above them like a king surveying his subjects. He held his golden scepter with an air of triumph, the eerie blue glow from its tip casting shadows over his sharp features.

One man, frail yet resolute, slowly rose to his feet. His voice was steady as he spoke. “I will not kneel.”

Loki’s expression remained impassive, but his eyes gleamed with something dangerous. “Not to men like you.”

Loki smirked. “There are no men like me.”

Y/N, hidden among the approaching strike team, watched the exchange, a twinge of something unsettling flaring inside her. He wasn’t wrong. There was no one quite like him. Y/N pressed herself deeper into the shadows, her breath shallow as she watched him command the terrified crowd. Loki moved with a slow, deliberate grace, every step a calculated performance of dominance. The sharp lines of his armor caught the light, the gold and green making him look less like a man and more like something divine, untouchable. And those eyes—ice and fire all at once—burned with an intensity that made something coil tight in her stomach. He was beautiful in a way that felt dangerous, in a way that made her pulse stutter against her will. She clenched her fists, disgusted at herself. This was the enemy. A murderer, a would-be conqueror. And yet, her body betrayed her, drawn to the arrogance in his smirk, the cruel amusement in his gaze. It was wrong. It was madness. But God help her, she couldn’t look away.

She rolled her eyes at herself. Get a grip.

The tension in the air crackled as Loki raised his scepter, aiming directly at the defiant old man’s chest.

A sharp clang split through the silence.

Loki staggered back, his attack deflected as a circular red, white, and blue shield ricocheted off the scepter, knocking him to the ground.

Steve Rogers stepped forward, catching his shield as it flew back into his grip. His voice was calm, yet commanding. “You know, the last time I was in Germany and saw a man standing above everybody else, we ended up disagreeing.”

Y/N groaned through the comms. “God, you sound like a grandad.”

A chuckle slipped through the line—Natasha, probably, and even Banner’s soft amusement could be heard. Steve just sighed at his sister’s remark, choosing to ignore it.

Loki, however, looked intrigued as he slowly rose back to his feet, brushing off his black and green coat. His eyes gleamed with something between recognition and delight. “The soldier.” He tilted his head, amusement curling his lips. “The man out of time.”

Steve didn’t hesitate. “I’m not the one out of time.”

Before Loki could respond, the unmistakable whir of a helicopter sliced through the sky.

Natasha’s voice rang through the comms. “Drop the weapon and stand down.”

Simultaneously, Y/N flew down from above, landing gracefully beside Steve, her blue energy casting an otherworldly glow.

Loki took a moment to observe her, eyes trailing over the faint blue shimmer still crackling in her fingertips.

Then, he attacked.

The fight was swift and brutal. Steve met Loki’s strikes with practiced discipline, deflecting the scepter’s blows with his shield. Y/N moved with raw agility, her energy pulsing in her hands as she struck where she could. But Loki was fast—too fast.

A well-aimed strike sent Steve crashing onto his back. Loki loomed over him, scepter poised.

“Kneel,” he commanded through gritted teeth.

Y/N didn’t think—she just moved. Instinct, adrenaline, something deeper and unspoken drove her forward. She stepped between them, her hand shooting out to catch the scepter mid-strike.

The moment her fingers wrapped around it, the world tilted.

A crackle of energy pulsed through her palm, racing up her arm like a live wire, but that wasn’t what made her breath hitch. It was him. The sudden, sharp inhale he took. The way his body went still, as if the universe itself had stuttered in place.

For a second—just a second—Loki’s expression changed.

Something flickered in his eyes, a crack in the icy blue glaze that coated them. A spark of something deep, something raw. A silent question, an unspoken plea. And beneath it—something else. Something burning, wild and electric, clashing with the cold that seeped from him. It was fleeting, but it was there.

Y/N’s pulse roared in her ears. She should have felt fear, should have been repulsed, but instead, heat curled in her stomach, foreign and unwelcome. Her fingers tightened around the scepter, not just to stop him—but to hold onto the moment. His gaze pinned her in place, a breath away from something she couldn’t name, something dangerous.

His lips parted slightly, as if words lingered there, unsaid. As if he recognized something in her, something neither of them understood.

And then, like a snapped thread, the moment was gone. His mask slid back into place, cold arrogance smoothing over whatever had just cracked beneath the surface.

But Y/N had felt it.

And she knew, in some deep, dangerous part of herself, that he had too.

The eerie blue tinge returned to his gaze, his expression twisting into something smug. His lips curled into a smirk, and before Y/N could react, he flipped the scepter and aimed it directly at her chest.

A searing energy exploded through her, flooding her veins like liquid fire. It spread rapidly—from her fingertips to her legs, to her head, to her very core. Her vision blurred, but this time, she didn’t see blue. She saw yellow.

The force of it sent them both flying backward.

Y/N hit the ground hard, gasping for breath as her vision swam. Loki, equally thrown, struggled to his feet, his face contorted in confusion.

And then—

A loud, blaring guitar riff tore through the tension, some rock song Y/N had never heard before.

A streak of red and gold shot through the sky, landing with a dramatic thud a few feet away. The helmet lifted to reveal a familiar smirk.

Tony Stark’s voice crackled through the speakers. “Agent Romanoff… did you miss me?”

Loki, staring up at the metal-clad figure, exhaled sharply. His grip on the scepter tightened—then, after a moment, he straightened and… surrendered.

As the chaos settled, Steve pulled Y/N to her feet, concern etched across his face. “You okay?”

She nodded absently, shaking off the lingering sensation. But as she looked down at her hands, her breath hitched.

Her glow was no longer just blue. It was shifting, swirling—a mix of blue and yellow.

Green.

When she glanced back at Loki, he was still watching her. Not just looking—watching. Studying. As if she were something unexpected, something he hadn’t accounted for. His sharp eyes hadn’t left her for a second, their icy blue depths locked onto hers with an intensity that made her stomach tighten.

A slow, unnerving kind of heat curled through her, spreading like ink in water. It was the way he looked at her—unblinking, as if he could peel back her layers with nothing but his gaze, as if he saw something beneath her skin that even she didn’t know was there. It should have made her uneasy. It did. But it also sent a shiver of something dangerously close to exhilaration down her spine.

There was arrogance in his stare, yes—an unshaken confidence that spoke of knowing his own power, of believing himself untouchable. But beneath that, there was something else. A quiet curiosity. A flicker of recognition, as if he’d seen something familiar in her, something he wasn’t sure he liked.

And for reasons she couldn’t explain, she found that a mix of intimidating—

And endearing.

The realization unsettled her. This was Loki. The enemy. The trickster god with a silver tongue and a cruel smirk, the one they had been sent to stop. And yet, here she was, caught in the weight of his gaze, her pulse betraying her with its quickened pace. There was a warning in the way he looked at her—something dark, something possessive, as if she had unknowingly stepped too close to the fire.

And the worst part?

Somewhere, deep down, she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to step back.

[patchwork-crow-writes]

Thoughts on the "Kris and Ralsei wielding a sword together" concept art

I know I am like two years late to this party but guys I only learned of this like a month ago let me react to the content ok

This art is fascinating to me, for a couple of reasons.

Long post below the read more!

Firstly, it speaks to the strange connection that Kris and Ralsei seem to share. Between the theories that Ralsei is Kris's old headband, his resemblance to a Dreemurr, and the enormous pedestal he places Kris upon, this is another thread that links these two in an intrinsic way, and suggests they will both have something important to contribute to the story as a whole.

Secondly, what it says about their relationship at the point this might happen. Their equal wielding of the sword seems indicative of an equality between them, which is striking due to the fact that in the lore Ralsei provides, Darkners exist only to serve Lightners, and Ralsei's entire character so far seems bent towards serving his friends any way he can. So the fact that both him and Kris get equal billing here suggests there will come a point in the story where he comes to view himself as equal, rather than subservient, to his friends, and particularly to Kris who he venerates above all others.

Thirdly, what this says about the nature of balance between light and dark. Somewhat related to the above, we can think of Kris and Ralsei as stand-ins for the concepts of Light and Darkness respectively. Typically these concepts are framed in a master-servant dynamic, with dark(ners) serving the light(ners) - or otherwise in an adversarial manner, particularly with the Roaring and the mention of "shadows subsuming the light". But here, there is true equality, and true balance between the two forces. This suggest that light and dark have united to combat a foe that far eclipses the scope and threat of either, whether that is the Roaring, the Angel's Heaven, or something else entirely.

Fourthly, the fact that this is not a happy occasion. Both of their faces are solemn (although Ralsei does look like he's pulling the o_O face a little here) - there are no smiles, this is not a moment of triumph. Something really important is going down, and both of them are ready to do whatever needs to be done here.

Fifthly, the implications for Ralsei's character and the philosophy of Deltarune. Kris wields a sword in combat, but they only use it to FIGHT. We know that the sword can change shape to become a shield, which would fit Ralsei's more pacifistic nature better - however, here he seems ready to FIGHT. Perhaps because he has run out of other options, or because their foe is so great, so powerful, that there is no way to parlay with them as equals.

And sixthly, and most importantly, the direction they are facing, and the object of their focus. Rather than facing rightwards as in a typical enemy encounter, or away from the screen where a larger threat would typically emerge (think GIGA Queen or perhaps even the Dark Fountains), they are facing towards the camera. Further, look at their gaze, how they are staring directly at the screen. Directly towards us, the players.

And so, unless I have failed to consider something, or there's some hidden element we're not currently aware of, I believe this is depicting the moment where Ralsei and Kris have decided to take up arms against the destiny that binds them, to fight against the very concept of control that a player typically exerts over a game's characters. We are too powerful, too alien, to negotiate with - no ACT will satiate our desire to continue playing Deltarune, to push these puppets forwards to see what happens at the very end. And so, these two have no other option but to try and FIGHT us, to overthrow our control and oversight by force.

This is the point, I feel, where Deltarune stops being a game, and we will have a choice to make - to let them win, and assert control over their own destinies once-and-for-all, or to FIGHT back, cement our power over these characters and make them dance to our tune to the story's bitter conclusion.

A bit of a stretch, perhaps, deriving all of that for a crudely-drawn piece of concept art. But those are just my thoughts. I'd be curious to see what conclusions anyone else has drawn from this curious piece of art!

[ghostybaby000]

Out with the Old | Part 5

Part 1

Pairing: Simon Ghost Riley x reader

Part 1 above!

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: 18+, fighting, cursing, alcohol, general violence, symptoms of panic

Tag List: @yyiikes @talooolaaloolla @strawberrygateau @cumsluut @sofiacoppolaslut @blackbeautyiloveyouso @casalucard

Pushing open the door to the bar, you’re met with the cold and somewhat quiet evening. Your breath still catching from adrenaline along with your heartrate, you shut your eyes as you tilt your head upward. Cars pass as you bundle yourself, you open your eyes looking down both ways of the road trying to decide where to go. 

You turn to your right to see a road leading towards home, although it was dark and surrounded by alley ways that held only more darkness. Looking to the left, there’s a slightly busier intersection a block or so away where a few cars roll by, but it would only carry you farther from home. 

You feel tears begin to form as you push towards the right, you were going to get home. A dog starts barking in the distance, making you slow in your hurried pace. Slowly you come to a stop, your hearing becoming more acute in the hardly familiar territory. You look to the right again to see the bars alley way, a small light flickering above the door. If you could just sit for a moment and catch your breath. 

Looking around you, panic only making things feel more rushed, you move to where the small light illuminates the door and the dumpsters outside. Sitting directly under a light at this hour was sure to make you obvious and you didn’t want to think of what could happen if he had found you. Hurrying over you place yourself on the wall, slowly sliding down until your knees were pressed against your chest and your bottom hit the cool pavement. Your head was spinning with thoughts as you heard a distant chime, one that told you someone had made it out of the bar. 

Ghost pushed outside the door, taking a moment to listen and acknowledge his environment, he begins to search. He looks down the left, knowing that it would be too far for you to make it all that way in such a short time, then looks right and hopes you haven’t tried to venture into the darkness on your own. Both ways having alleys and people that weren’t so kind when it came to this hour, his stomach began to knot. He went to the left, looking in the first alley and around the cars parked nearby. Then he came back the where the bar was, setting off with speed in his step to head towards the right. Checking cars as he was walking by, no luck making his own heart begin to beat faster. You couldn’t of gone far, that he knew. He continued on the sidewalk, pushing past the bar and into the neighborhood. 

You hear footsteps that sounded almost as if they were jogging. Fear struck you as the steps grew louder and faster, you simply didn’t have the energy to fight. You didn’t want to look at him or hear his sneering words, and certainly didn’t want to face him after hitting him publicly. You in no way doubted the strangers’ abilities to scare him straight, but didn’t want to risk being seen either way. As the steps drew nearer you tucked yourself as far as you could into the shadow or the dumpster, holding your breath for safe measure.

You wait with bated breath as you see, the stranger. Your body wants to be overcome by relief, but your mind wasn’t entirely sure that it was safe. You thought to the night in the bar, and how he had taken on another man without breaking a sweat, and done it again tonight. You watched as he looked through car windows and even under one of them. He was looking for you. 

Initially you felt fear knowing that someone of his stature was looking for you in the night, and you didn’t know a bit about him. Another part of you was grateful. Grateful that he had intervened, and that he had been there to begin with. Your head felt heavy with the mound of thoughts there were to process. You still had belongings at his house, you would have to give his things back, you had hit someone, a stranger defended you, and now they were actively searching for you. Your head fell into your hands as you felt tears burning in your eyes. You slowly began to cry, only opening the flood gates that you tried to silence, although you weren’t doing all too good a job.

Ghosts own fears were picking away at his mind. Realistically you could have gotten in cab and gone home, yet as he looked around there weren’t any in his view and it had only been a minute or two since you had left. After he had made his way past two alleys he stopped, turned back around and headed back. His eyes were still bouncing from car to car as he hoped you would come around from one of them. Just as he’s reaching the bar he hears a noise. It’s a sniffling or stammered breathing, either way he heard it and made his way towards it. 

He makes his way to the bar alley, looking to the dumpster and the light at the door, he doesn’t see anything, he takes another step closer this time seeing a  crouched shadow move. How had he not seen you before? He slowly walked over, realizing that as he closed the distance it was you, bundled up and crying. Your head was in your hands as your shoulders shook, your sniffling louder confirming that it had been you he heard.

He was in front of you now and you hadn’t even noticed, and suddenly he felt better that you hadn’t tried to walk alone in the dark.

Your sleeves were covered in tears, your nose following suite. You tired your best to push your thoughts down even for a moment to let yourself breathe, but you couldn’t seem to entirely calm. You squeezed your eyes shut as you held yourself tighter. You believe you hear the sound of gravel, just feet away. You try to still yourself and listen more intently then ever, when a familiar voice reaches you ears.

‘Lets, go. It’s getting cold out ere’’ Lifting your head more quickly than you had hoped, you see the stranger. Tall and confident, his hand extended down towards you. You look into his eyes, even in this dim light you can see more detail than the other night you had seen him. You slowly bring your hand out, keeping your eyes on him. He looked determined and stern, but for a reason you could not put into words, you weren’t afraid. 

[naisilla]

Summary: You get curious as to if Aatrox has a cock

Pairing: Aatrox x Feminine Reader

Warning: NSFW, Unedited, Slight non-con.

No context to the relationship so for simplicity sake I'll make it the Summoner AU.

Aatrox’s size would cast a shadow wherever he was, he was a mountain, a stature of muscle that roiled under red leathery skin. He was a sight to behold as a god-like warrior, and you often found your eyes wandering over his form. He was once a human, even after ascending and then being corrupted into the darkin he is now, he still kept an anthropoid form. So does that mean he still had a…

You’re eyes once again fall back onto the pelvic region of the darkin noting how his v line leading to his groin was sharp like an ironed edge. Aatrox wore no clothes, such an unkillable gladiator did not require cloth to protect his vessel. He stood completely bare yet barely looked nude as his groin was flat. Nothing is exposed and in need of censoring. So what? did his dick just evaporate? Seemingly it must’ve, right?

Lost in thought you found your heart sinking once you realised the Darkin had noticed you staring. His glowing red eyes harshly glared down upon you. “My eyes are up here mortal” his gruff and guttural voice barked making you shake where you stood. You could feel your chest cave in on itself as the giant marched over towards your tiny cowering form. The darkin leaned over you, his lips curled back into a sneer “What is it that you want mortal your ogling agitates me”. You can feel your cheeks shamefully heat up as you direct your gaze to the floor focusing on the armored talons that stand before your feet clicking at the floor impatiently. 

His demonic hand instantly grips your jaw as his claws force you to look directly up at him. “I am not foolish mortal I’ve lived through millennia and I know what such wandering eyes are thinking”. You feel the claws that scrape your jaw slide around to the back of your neck in a swift motion as he grabs a hold of the scruff of your top lifting you to his face, breathing a huff of hot air. “You lustful minx”. 

Aatrox drops you and you hit the ground with a thud the impact knocking the wind from your lungs. You roll over trying to recover from the hit but aren't given the chance as the darkin kneels over you trapping you between his legs. You stare up startled when you notice the sound of flesh being split in a wet tear and to your horror you spot a slit stretch open on his groin as something protrudes from within.

You weren’t sure what to expect, you could only imagine what the darkin could be packing but it wasn't as monstrous as the phallus that swelled above you. 

It was muscular, the base transitioning from dark to bright red at the tip with glowing veins that carried a current of pulsing light through the shaft. 

Tentatively you raised your arm in front of you and gawked when you concluded that its length matched that of your forearm. You glance up at Aatrox, trembling beneath him. His tongue clicked in annoyance at your inaction. “Well?” he prompted, angling his hips so that his cock prodded your face. 

You swallow down the lump in your throat and reach out to grasp the girth unsurpsrised that your fingers couldnt fully wrap around it leaving a couple of inches gap between your digits. Feeling compelled you try to stretch your lips over its head, feeling the sides of your mouth split with the strain. You can’t get it all the way in because of how large and swollen it is. You choke and gag on it anyway, tears pricking the sides of your eyes. Your soft hands grasp the shaft while you work the head with your tongue, your drool slicking down the length coaxing your fingers as they ran up and down the taut thickness.

Aatrox leers down as your tiny and frail body trys so hard to fit it in your throat despite it truly never fitting. He’s abnormally quiet when his large hands grip your head, forcefully sliding you along his cock creating hefty, sloppy sounds. You stare up at the Darkin with trembling nerves as he uses his cock to flatten your tongue along the floor of your mouth so he can fully stretch you out.

Thats when he begins to pick up the pace and ferocity now jamming his length down your throat and you gag, your hands fly to his hips as you desperately try to push yourself off of him and his advances. But its no use, you stood no chance against Aatrox and he was going to use your throat regardless of your need to breathe.

Your helpless body convulsed and retched at being violated so roughly as your gullet retched at what was only a tiny portion of his giant cock. Aatrox growled the rumbling of his voice frightening you at the beast you have awoken. He finally speaks again “tsk you’re taking too long. I am going to ruin your puny body mortal” Aatrox then grabs you, tearing away you clothes effortlessly and handles you with one of his massive hands away from his cock with a wet pop. A long slick thread of spit stretches away from it as he then maneuvers you and hovers you over his cock.

You gulp in trepidation a part of you wanted this but you still feared of how unprepared you were for this. You stare up at him bewildered “w-wait you're not going to prepare me first!?” Your voice quivered. As he prods his cocks head flush against your wet hole gripping the base of his dick as he tests your resistance to it. You whimper as he crushes the head hard against your entrance the force barely restraining from sliding it in. Aatrox pants ruggedly and a sick grin carves itself on his face. “You could never be prepared enough for this.” 

The Darkin then crams it in you, he rushes getting it inside of you as he could feel it growing even more when he marveled over how small your body looks like this against him. It's enough to break you and you let out a silent scream as you feel your hole crushing the darkin cock inside you. 

Aatrox grabs you by your hips and forces you to sink further and further onto his cock as he spears you with it making it fit nice and snug inside of you all the while it threatens to split you open.

You grab onto aatroxs arm to brace yourself as he continues to abuse your hole grunting and growling like a feral beast. His stamina is unending as you feel yourself lose track of time while aatrox uses you like a toy. The ferocity and guttural sounds he'd make were picking up louder and faster and you could feel him building up.

After a few more irregular sharp thrusts you could feel his cum flood in thick ropes. One load, two loads, three loads, four loads, the fifth load began to drip out while the darkin continued pumping more. You could only hang there speared onto his cock as cum dripped down you legs like melting cream. 

Your core now felt sore with blunt aching, Aatrox would grab you from under your arms and lift you off of him having to tug a little as his cock dragged on your overstimulated walls. He drops you to the ground again more softly compared to last time and towers over you once again pumping out the last of him cum to dribble onto your face as you stare up blankly and broken....

First smut ever, cant be bothered to edit atm. Not sure how to feel about this debut post but this is my account dedicated to much more dark and mature themes sooo...