#this is a great fic if you want a look into his psyche

[etherealily]

𝙴𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃𝙴𝙴𝙽 // 𝙉𝙁𝙅!

Nate Jacobs + Fem!reader. Warnings : Dark. SFW, but discretion advised. Drugs.

I don't know if this is milder or darker than the previous parts, but I do know that it is LONG.

Part 1 : Whiplash

Part 2 : 9 Lives

Part 3 : Blessed

Part 4 : Shards

Part 6 : Sin

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

Desc. : You're fun and you're wild, but you don't know the half of the shit that you put me through

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TUESDAY, LIBRARY, 4 PM.

"We need to talk."

Suddenly, Carl Jung had never been more interesting, your eyes unable to rip away from the words on the paper in front of them, ignoring Nate as much as possible.

Your shoulder suddenly jerked, and a soft whisper followed. "Hey. We need to talk."

Frowning, your eyes darted between the two Jacobs brothers, the looks on their faces not strict, but the most infuriatingly stoic gazes mankind had ever known.

"You had quite a weekend, right? Anything crazy happen?"

The real question Aaron was asking was whether you were going to talk about it.

"Nope, just lots of psych homework."

"See, this is why I'm telling you to drop Psych. Unnecessary stress.", remarked Nate, his fingers rapping on the table in an almost musical pattern. Almost, because music is art, and there was nothing artistic about the false smile he was giving you.

"I'll keep that in mind."

"How are the rest of classes going?" Small talk?

"Great. Chem is pissing me off, though."

"Eh, well, only nerds are good at Chem, and I don't fuck with nerds. So you're lucky."

Oh, thanks, man. Such an honour.

"Are you good at Chem?"

"I pass."

"Where'd you get time to study? What with all the vapes and parties and quote-unquote 'dozens of bitches'?"

He let out a breathy laugh. "I got good work-life balance.", he replied, leaning on his arms closer to you. His head tilted and you knew something psychotic was about to happen. Well, it was Nate. You knew something psychotic was about to happen the second he walked in.

"I'll bet."

He smiled at that. "Are you my friend, Y/N? Are we friends?"

"I don't think so."

"Good. We're on the same page.", he hissed, moving in closer, glaring at you with the same eyes that had been acting as a dam to his true emotions two nights ago. "You can't tell anyone." His fingers deftly twirled your hair around before tucking it behind your ear.

"About?"

"Saturday."

"How you threw a lamp at me?"

"What you heard about my Dad. What he wanted to... what he said. What you learnt about our family."

"I won't."

"No, seriously, Y/N, don't fucking play with me right now. You'll regret it if you do."

"I'm not playing around, either. I'm not going to tell anyone."

"Good.", sniped Aaron. "'Cause we'll fucking ruin your life if you do."

"Aaron.", whispered Nate, shaking his head. "She already said she wouldn't."

"And you trust her?! She walked in with this polite girl attitude and then when shit got tough, she yelled at you with Mom just a room away. And you told me she wanted to fuck Da-"

"Aaron, shut the FUCK up, okay? She said she isn't going to, so she won't." The glares were back on you, an unwelcome blanket in the heat of tension.

"Yeah, we wouldn't want to have to say stuff about you , too."

"Aaron, I said fuckin' drop it."

"No, she gotta know what's at stake, or she's going to take this shit lightly."

You could almost see the vein pop in Nate's head.

"Nate, what... what stuff?"

"It's nothing. Just... we needed incentive.", he muttered, shrugging.

"What incentive?"

"You're buddy-buddy with a drug dealer, Y/N.", he continued, although, to his credit, it seemed with a little reluctance. "And he has access to a lot of shit, right? Who knows if he's ever slipped something into your drink and... y'know."

"What the FUCK? What the FUCK, NATE?"

His idea of incentive was making you a rape victim?!

Being shushed by the librarian solidified your thirst for homicide.

"I mean, you fucked Shane voluntarily, so you're already a fuckin' whore.", he declared, shrugging again as if he was just stating that the sky would be lit up by fireworks on the Fourth of July. "Maybe he just thought it would be easier, without all the playing-hard-to-get-shit. You're close enough that he trusts you to watch over his store."

"You can't FUCKING be serious! FEZCO WOULD NEVER FUCKING-"

"How sad, you're in denial.", tutted Aaron, pouting. "How would you know? He could have used shit stronger than Rohypnol, ya know? Shit that could knock you out cold for hours, and maybe he even called a couple of his trapper buddies-"

Aaron shut up quite quickly when your knuckles met his jaw, but started cussing you out when Nate pulled you off of him. "We're just saying, Y/N, you don't tell anyone the truth of that night, we won't tell them the lies about Fezco."

You pointed your finger at Nate's chest, hoping to god that that would distract him from the rage-induced tears pooling in your eyes.

"You're a fucking coward, Jacobs. With a pervert dad. A fucking coward who can't admit that he has no idea what the fuck he's doing."

"Big words coming from a girl that was raped by her dealer."

OH, someone needs to euthanize this motherfucker.

FUCK. NATE. JACOBS.

TUESDAY, 9PM

Nate had no fucking clue why he was doing this.

He was just drunk, he supposed. Drunk and horny. Average teenage experience.

But it's like.. he could've done anything. ANYTHING else. He could've actually gone to the party, picked up some girl, screwed her into the bed.

But no.

He sat there, scrolling through the fucking SlutPages. For who?Shane's sister, maybe, because of the inexplicable hatred he'd been feeling for him for about a month that he couldn't really think of a reason for? You would think, wouldn't you?

He looked for you.

There was no way you were a virgin. But he should've known there was also no way you were a slut. Or at least, that you were smart enough not to end up there.

He almost fucking threw the phone onto the wall. Fuck.

And you'd blocked him. That was the problem. He couldn't even text you. And he didn't have your fucking phone number, Jesus fucking Christ, he should've gotten it! Relying on something as flimsy as social fucking media was stupid. Idiot.

Wait. Social media.

He quickly slid his chair over to his computer, his hands moving with a pace and mind of their own.

No fucking way would he admit this, but his brother... had some good ideas, once in a while.

When he was fourteen, he'd been wide-eyed, watching through the crack through a door as his older brother -17 at the time- created an account, some random username, some girly bullshit, and then gone Incognito, finding a picture to add.

And then he watched as his brother spent hours poring through pictures of girls - at the time, Nate's seniors- and then suddenly sigh.

"You know, you breathe like fucking Darth Vader?" "What's that?", he'd asked, ignoring that comment and padding over to sit next to him. "This account? I'll tell you, but it- it's like... private brother shit, ok?"

"Shit". What a novel word that was at the time.

"Okay." "Spit-swear it, runt."

He spit-swore. A thing he never fucking did again.

"You can use it. Whenever you're down bad for a chick but you're blocked." "Why would a chick I'm down bad for block me?" "You're so obviously fourteen."

And god fucking damnit, was he.

Not that he was down bad for you. But all he'd say is if this wasn't love, it was pretty fucking close. Why you enthralled him, no clue. You were so easy to rile up, but hard to push too far. You always seemed to be limitless.

He logged in.

Good, the loser, Crestin, posted a story.

Good, you were there in the background.

Great, you were hot.

Bad, you were drinking. Tequila. Wasn't that you and Nate's thing?

Of course, he wouldn't presume to have taken your tequila-V-Card, but he most definitely would have assumed that you'd associate tequila with him. With that night. He'd assumed you'd stay away from it, metaphorically forsaking him in the process.

But no.

Shane's tequila was non-traumatic, and apparently delicious. Ugh.

This simply would not do.

TUESDAY, SHANE'S PARTY, 11PM

"No, NO, GET the FUCK away from me!", you warned, pointing a finger at him. You should've taken his advice and learnt to shoot. "I'm warning you, Jacobs!"

Shane's party was meant to be the one place you could be to avoid Nate, seeing as the host was some sort of Nate-repellent, but NO, you'd just apparently underestimated Nate Jacobs once again.

And here he was, his hand gripping your wrist - just like the rope you wanted to grip his neck - and glaring down at you as if you'd just killed his entire family but he was mildly turned on by it.

"Y/N, just fucking listen! Just- stop causing a scene! Fuckin' LISTEN!", he ordered, grabbing your shoulder with one palm and pointing at you with the other hand, to stop you from writhing away from him.

"You can't just do what you did last week and then expec-"

He kissed you. What did he think this was, fucking Disney Channel?

"NO! NO!", you shouted, shoving him away and secretly hoping for a car to hit him as he stumbled back.

No such luck.

It really was the world according to Nate, wasn't it?

"You know it's okay, right? It's alright."

"What?"

"It's okay to want me.", he informed you, as if he was telling you it was okay to sing in the shower.

Everyone does it. It's like, a thing, relax.

"It's okay.", he continued, "People want what's bad for them all the time.", he murmured, his thumb tracing your lip like he was tracing out a line he wanted so desperately to cross. "It's human nature."

"You think I'm bad for you?"

He took a deep breath, as if he was about to tell you you were terminal. "I think you're good for my soul. Like a baptism without the water." His thumb moved further into your mouth, just barely grazing your teeth.

"Even you have no clue what that meant, admit it."

"It's called effect, Y/N. Drama. Intrigue. Doesn't have to make sense."

You stared up at him, waiting for elaboration, and that earned a huff from him as he looked around at the other people in the front yard - doing lines, making out, throwing up - before turning back to you. "No, honey, I don't think you're bad for me. In fact, I think you're unnecessarily good for me."

"Unnecessarily?"

"As in, I don't need your energy."

"Then why are you so insistent on being around it? 'Cause you want to fuck me?"

"No! Jesus. It's in the name, Y/N. GOOD luck charm. You help me do GOOD in my games. You're good energy."

"What's next? You gonna tell me my birthstone?"

"Oh, shut up.", he chuckled, shaking his head as he moved your jaw from side-to-side in what seemed to be a playful gesture, but at this point, could very well have been him trying to ascertain which cheek to shoot into or something. "You got your licks in. We good?"

"Good? No. NO. We're not good! You threatened someone I love, so no fuckin' way are we good!"

"I know, I know. Aaron wanted me to-"

"BULLSHIT!"

He sighed, as if you were his deranged relative who was climbing up some telephone pole.

"YOU just can't handle the fact that I saw you almost fucking cry! I caught you weak, and that's a power shift, and you don't FUCKING like it, do you?!"

His jaw ticked for a moment, but he managed to let out a mix between a scoff and a chuckle. And then, as if what you said wasn't quite literally exactly what he was feeling, he asked, "Are you done?"

"NO, I'm not fucking done! I still haven't got to the part where you threatened to accuse him of rape, which is a fucking terrible thing to joke about in the first pla-"

"Look, man, I don't have time for this shit, okay? I'm not hurting Fezco! I came here so I could tell you something."

"My GOD, Nate, you made your point! I won't tell anyone!", you groaned, snatching a drink from some already-tipsy guy's hand and downing it.

"That's totally hygienic.", he remarked, eyes finally tearing away from you as you both watched the drunkard stumble over a girl who was getting rid of her lunch and breakfast in the bushes.

"I got new incentive.", he murmured, his forehead against yours, and his thumb rubbing your cheek as if it owned land there.

"What, now you're going make Shane out to be a rapist, too?"

Not a bad idea, actually. The corners of his mouth curled down, and he scanned your face as if he were actually thinking about it, eliciting a tsk from you.

He hid a chortle as he continued. "I'm offering you a deal. You were right, back at the bleachers about the control thing."

He was about to ask you to sell your soul, you could fucking feel it.

"So... you get to control me. For however long you need. Like, a month, a week, whatever. Just don't tell anyone about my family."

Whoa. Plot twist. You did not expect him to sell his soul.

"Oh, yeah, I'm sure. So if I asked you to show up to school naked?"

"Yes, I'd show up to school naked for you. But it's funny seeing me naked is your first instinct."

His trust issues were suddenly working out in your favour- he was essentially offering himself up as collateral.

"If I ask you to announce a formal apology to me on a bullhorn before your game?"

"I just want you to leave my family alone, Y/N."

So that's where Nate Jacobs' humanity began. At his family. Noted.

"I promise. I'll do anything." The urge to say 'then die' was strong, but not invincible.

You wracked your brain looking for something you could make this psychopath do that would not cause him immense pleasure.

"Ah, see? Being the one in control isn't all it's cracked up to be. Too much power, and you don't even know what to do with it.", he taunted, pouting as he closed his eyes, pressing his forehead harder against yours. "Think. What is it you want from me?"

What the fuck did you want him to do?

"Do you want an apology? No, 'cause I've already given you plenty and you don't want meaningless things, do you?" His lips lightly touched yours and you could swear he smirked when you flinched on reflex.

But no. That wasn't what you wanted. He was spot-on.

"You want... do you want money? I'm a trust fund baby, essentially, right? My father basically owns the town. Sure, I could hook you up. Royal Enfield, BMW. Or, if you want, Chanel? But that won't cost me anything, at least not emotionally, yeah? So no. That's not it, either."

Why did you suddenly feel like your thoughts were transferring into his head?

"You want me? You want to cut me up, just like I forced you to watch me do to myself? You want to hold a gun to my throat like I did to you? No, because I'd low-key like it."

Yes, he would. So no, you didn't want it.

"C'mon, think. I'm at your mercy, I'm all yours. There's definitely one thing you want and you're just too much of a pussy to say it."

Why were you letting him do this? Why did you just accept that it was the world according to Nate?

"You wanna know what I think, huh? Huh? I'll tell you what I think.", he murmured. "I think you want me to care."

That got your attention. "Care?"

"I think you actually want me to give a shit about you, so you can justify to yourself why you keep lettin' this happen, don'tcha?", he asked, thumb rubbing your jawline. "You want me to stop acting like this whole thing between us is a game. You want me to acknowledge what I'm doing to you."

You hated this. You hated when men were right - it was ridiculous. And you absolutely despised when Nate was right, because it was dangerous.

"Look, I just want you out of my life, Nate.", you lied.

That had come out way too fast. That was the easiest thing he could do. That was the kindest thing you could have ordered him to do. That was mercy.

So why was he acting like you'd just asked him to jump into a fire?

"That's it?"

He didn't buy it. And neither did you. Because yes, you'd technically be very reasonable to want him out of your life. But no, the danger, the unnecessarily sexy amount of mortal peril you'd be in every second that you were around him- it was your fucked up version of heroin.

"I don't think you understand just what you're asking. You're going to miss me."

You scoffed and he shrugged, in a gesture that only seemed pitiful, as though he were allowing you to believe that for the time being.

'Denial isn't just a river in Egypt, baby', you could almost hear him snark.

"What if I miss you?"

You shrugged, downing another shot - one you'd stolen from a drunk girl this time. "I dunno. Just don't."

"You'll still come to games? Fist-bump me?"

"Still come to games? I guess, maybe? I'll high-five you, or something."

"I'll think it over." Wait, wasn't he the one who was making an offer?

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He found you almost fifteen minutes later, probably after mulling it over with a drink.

"I accept your terms. I'll go out of your life, starting Monday. However, I've got a little som'n som'n to show you.".

An AK-47? An atom-bomb? A grave he dug specially for you?

"It's a surprise. Only an hour. That's all I'm asking."

Only your sanity. That's all he was asking.

You'd promised yourself you'd never take anything from Nate Jacobs again, and you'd stuck to it.

I mean.

That was until he'd offered you molly.

Molly made you happy.

Molly made you forget stuff, like college apps, the loss of your internship and the fact that you'd basically been lying to your family the entirety of last week about the scar on your forehead.

But how he'd found that out was a question for the ages. And he seemed to know exactly what molly did to you.

And you best believe he was milking it.

"I want to get a tattoo."

"Okay...?"

"Correction : I want us to get a tattoo.", he whispered, before tsk-ing at your derisive snort. "C'mon, you get to draw whatever you want on me and I'll get it tattooed, I promise!"

"Tattoos are permanent, Nate."

"And you know what? So am I. In your life. In your head. On your lips.", he reminded, grinning mischievously, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth.

You barely fought against him - the ecstasy sprinting through your blood vessels - and you found yourself lying back on the grass, his hands bracketing your hair.

"Just fucking draw something on me, Y/N. Come on. And I'll draw something on you. Yeah? Sound good?", he asked, his hand creeping up your shirt with surprising reverence.

He chuckled breathily against your lips, shaking his head as he rolled off you, lying next to you.

"I'll draw something nice and meaningful. And you get to, as well. Nothing cheesy, though. Like a fucking arrow-heart or an anchor or some shit."

"How about a star?"

"What, a star is not cheesy? That's the cheesiest thing ever. That's the pussy tattoo.", he muttered, before looking up at your eyes, sighing magnanimously. "What kind of star?"

"The ones that are hard to draw. With all the lines."

"Really, Y/N? I give you the chance to mark my body up and you want the hardest thing to draw from second grade?"

"Where'd you want it?"

"Where will you be willing to touch me?"

That was a million dollar question. Willing is a very subjective term.

"Neck. Under my ear."

You nodded, taking the pen he'd brought and gently tracing out a couple stars under his neck. He played with some of your hair that had fallen in front of his face, with terrifying dedication, as you did so. "Yeah. Done. You actually getting this tattooed?"

"Now you.", he ordered, grabbing your wrist, not answering the question. Red flag number eleven thousand. The pen lid in his mouth and a focused furrow to his brow, he began drawing.

"Infinity symbol.", he informed you, before you could even ask.

"Why?"

"I dunno. It's meaningful. 'To infinity and beyond'. Favourite Disney Movie, right?"

"That is not my favourite-"

"Yeah, well, it's mine. Buzz Lightyear is like, my hero.", he muttered, rubbing his thumb over the drawing and then kissing it softly, all while looking at you.

"Really? You seem like a Big Hero 6 guy to me."

He laughed deeper. "You always take me so seriously."

"Fuuuck, I know I'm not supposed to say this..."

He lolled his head over to you. "You could tell me you're Ted Bundy reincarnate and I'd still smash."

You decided to ignore that comment. "I'm not supposed to say this, but... but I get why Rue did it. Like Jesus fucking Christ."

He nodded in understanding, looking at the tiny packet that still had a couple pills in it. "She was just too weak to limit herself. But we got no limits. You got infinity on your wrist."

"Look, Nate, I can't tattoo that shit. My family would kill themselves."

"Same."

"Then why did you-"

"We're gonna do something that could go either way. It could either freak you out or turn you on. On the off chance that it's both, then we're more similar than you realize.", he slurred, lazily brushing hair behind your ear. "'Kay?"

"What are we gonna do?", you asked, trying your hardest to pull away, but the ecstasy made you genuinely defenceless against human touch. And it didn't help that Nate was holding your arms tightly down on the ground, as if he were trying to plant roots.

"We're going to carve the tattoos."

He said it so conspiratorially. As though this was your secret to surviving the zombie apocalypse. And his fucking eyes. Glowing like fireworks. Glowing like a child finally being told he could get what he wanted for Christmas.

"WHAT?!"

He licked his lips with an almost roll of his eyes as he looked up at you, because you were so clearly overreacting, right? Slitting your own skin in the shape of an infinity on it was a perfectly normal teenage activity. Of course. Drinking, smoking, fucking, slicing.

"I'll do it. I'm experienced, as you know.", he scoffed, his lips at your shoulder now. "We only have about fifteen minutes left of your curfew, Y/N, please. Please? Play nice."

The molly was clouding your senses, clearly. You could tell because a) you were still having this conversation and b) you didn't even question how he knew what time your curfew was, and c) you hadn't punched him yet.

"Think about it, it's less permanent than a tattoo, baby, please."

And then he placed another one of those little pink pills on your tongue, pressing down and forcing you to swallow.

MONDAY.

The scream came too late to your liking.

You'd tried to scream faster, but everything had come rushing back to you. The fever dream was not a dream. It's always relieving when terrible 'realities' end up only being dreams. It's a different kind of terror when you realize that the nightmare was real.

The number eighteen was etched on your wrist like a pathetic mark, like... like a brand.

You couldn't even begin to figure out just what the fuck that was supposed to be. Eighteen? How was that meaningful? The year it becomes legal to have sex? Freedom, maybe? Joy?

He wanted this aneurysm in your head. He'd placed it there.

FUCK !

FRIDAY.

"What? What is it you want?!"

He frowned, his face softening out of genuine confusion, making him look almost comically harmless in the harsh stadium lighting. "You said you'd still fist-bump me."

"What does 18 mean?"

He shrugged, holding out his fist. You rolled your eyes, bumping it with your own. And then, after telling yourself you were imagining the ghost of a smirk on his lips, you froze. Because he'd turned, running off to the middle of the field. You saw his back.

His jersey. 18. FUCK. He blew you a kiss about two seconds before the ball was passed to him. 18. FUCK.

"Did you just fist-bump Nate?"

"Yeah."

"Why?", asked Maddy, scoffing softly.

"He was talking to me about the project and then he said he had to go, so I wished him luck and... I guess I fist-bumped him."

"Oh, yeah, ew, the project. How's that going?"

"I scrapped it."

"Why?", she questioned, after shaking her pom-poms and screaming out some over-enthusiastic cheer.

"I don't fucking like him. At all. He's a DICK."

"What? No way. I had no idea.", she muttered sardonically, slinging an arm around your shoulder. "But was it, like, really bad?"

You nodded.

"After the game, you wanna do molly?"

"No." The reply was almost immediate.

"You don't wanna do molly? Don't bullshit me. Shut up. You're doing it with me."

You'd have hugged Maddy for knowing you so well if you weren't so focused on the big, blue, number 18 running on the field, matching the big, red one staying still on your wrist.

FRIDAY, 9PM

Staying over at Maddy's was an offer you shouldn't have declined, because it was getting genuinely infuriating how Nate found out things.

You were still extremely lacking in sobriety when he'd crawled into your bed that night, covering your mouth to make sure you didn't scream. How? Million dollar question.

"You want me to tell you a secret?"

"A secret? Wait, not some bullshit about my lips that you came up with?"

"I listened to Queen."

You sat up. "WHAT?"

He chuckled, sitting up as well and tilting his head while resting it on his knees. "What? Elvis, too. I even watched Blue Hawaii. I low-key liked it. Why? Would it have changed your mind?"

You frowned for a moment, before shaking your head. "Still would've been nice to know."

"Okay, how about you just kiss me now, Rue 2.0?", he asked, tracing out the number eighteen on your wrist before looking up at you through slightly furrowed brows. That was a challenge, of sorts, that gaze.

"You have something to ask me." Didn't take a genius to figure it out. Insinuation was painted all over his face. He had an accusation and he needed you to defend it.

"When Shane fucked you, where'd he come?"

You frowned, staring at him for a moment. "Yo, I- what? Where is this coming from?"

"At practice he was saying he fucked you."

"He's a dickwad, of course he did."

"It doesn't bother you that he's spreading that shit?"

"If I paid attention to every rumour some butthurt, fragile-ego jock spread about me, I wouldn't have time to fucking study."

"Your reputation's gone, though. That's fine for you?"

You sucked on your teeth for a moment before exhaling. "You're here to find out if I'm easy?"

He looked at you for a moment, his expression unreadable.

"If I did this, Y/N, would you stop me?", he asked, shifting to his knees at the foot of the bed. "Hm? If I just...", he trailed off, kissing up your knee to your thigh.

"Nate. Stop."

"That's not stopping me.", he murmured, gripping your back and yanking you closer.

You kicked him away, grimacing. "Get out."

He gazed up at you, and for a moment there, it seemed like he was rooting for you, for the rumours to just be cruel rumours and not true.

"Get OUT!"

"You can't let me kiss you and then just... it doesn't work like that."

The world looked glittery and he looked godly kneeling down there.

His tongue licked slowly up your inner thigh. "C'mon. Take it off. It's just me."

"Get out."

He rolled his eyes, yanking your shorts down himself. "I fucking...", he murmured, voice muffled against your skin. "Love you."

"You don't fucking love me!" You were struggling but it was fruitless.

"I could."

"Get out, I'm not bullshitting."

"C'mon.", he murmured, reaching up to unhook your bra before pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. "C'mon."

"No! Get off!" His hand held you down.

"Just let me-", he muttered, his fingers finally removing your underwear as he pressed a chaste kiss higher up your thigh. Your breath hitched and his smirk widened, albeit, with a bit of disappointment. "There we go."

Kicking him away, you finally snapped. Maybe it was the molly. Maybe it was his tongue. Maybe it was the fact that he'd somehow found out that molly made you make extremely bad decisions. Maybe it was the fact that he knew you wanted nothing more than to fuck him that night.

"GET THE FUCK OUT, NATE! YOU SAID YOU'D LEAVE ME ALONE MONDAY, IT'S FRIDAY! GET THE FUCK OUT, PLEASE!" He took every kick and every punch like a total champ, you'd give him that.

The disappointment left, and he smiled, softly, caringly, like a mother hanging up her child's drawing on the fridge, as he wiped your tears away.

Standing up, he grabbed your hair, staring into your eyes so deeply you were half-wondering if they'd changed colour, before patting your shoulder. "I'm proud of you."

Proud for disproving a rumour?

You watched his shadow on your wall as it climbed down the window behind you.

Look, one thing could be said. Nate Jacobs was a man of his word. He did not speak to you. He did not text you. He did not acknowledge you.

You'd blocked him online and he'd blocked you in real life.

However, his other account still kept tabs on you.

Average social media interaction.

Shane Crestin ended up in the ER later that night.

Average Nate Jacobs interaction.

[belovedcloud]

I saw one of your latest fics (PERFECT HONEY🤍) and I just thought you were a great writer and it was like so cute and soft AAARGH

and then I also saw that you were accepting requests and I couldn't help but get excited, because I had an idea the other day - BUT I DON'T KNOW HOW TO WRITE 😭 so...

I was thinking about a short story fluff like with re2r Leon, where he still works at the police station but kind of without those traumatizing events YOU KNOW (or idk, you decide) so,,, he already knows Claire, who works in a cozy café near the police station where Leon usually goes on his break,buttt,, a new employee arrived (reader) and became friends with Claire (and kind of attracted Leon's attention 🥀) and idk, she (you decide if you want to use a feminine or neutral pronoun;) could work as a barista or waitress and was kind to Leon, until Leon started going to the cafe more often just to see her (or babbling about how pretty she is with Claire) until he found the courage to ask for her number or talk properly with her and, I don't know, this could end in a date or just Leon being a fool in love with a kind barista or waitress :)

IDK I AM DELULU BUT I KIND OF THOUGHT OF SOMETHING LIKE THAT

so...feel free to ignore this if you found it boring hun ^^ Thank you in advance for reading this thought and if you want to accept the idea ;)🩷🩷

Sweet Treats | Leon Kennedy x Barista! Fem! Reader

Notes: My first request! I hope you like this, I honestly found this concept so cute, and I love writing for RE2R Leon.

WC: 1.7K

CW: Fluffy Leon, no outbreak, Leon just being a clutz sometimes. Claire being your wingwoman basically and getting you both together. Mention of Y/N like once.

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After his first week in the RPD, Leon managed to get himself to work early enough to not get a lecture from Lieutenant Branagh. Soon enough, he met Chris Redfield who worked for S.T.A.R.S. Which quickly led to Chris taking him to a nearby café where his sister worked. Claire was a sweet girl, Leon and her slowly opened up to each other after a few days. Promptly, he became a regular customer. Getting the same raspberry and white chocolate muffin alongside a vanilla latte. Today was no different, Leon entering the café - however, he didn't see Claire at the counter. But you.

Leon couldn't help but think you were the prettiest girl he had seen. Trying to avert his eyes from your face he felt his legs subconsciously walk over to where Claire was sweeping the floor. "Morning Claire... New employee?" He mumbled as he nodded his head over to your direction. "Yeah! She came in yesterday. Super sweet." She laughed, taking out the tea towel as she wiped down the coffee table. "You don't have to be scared Leon." Claire couldn't help but snicker as she stared at Leon mentally psyching himself up to not fuck up his order. "I'm not scared.." He yipped back, before walking up to the counter.

Your hands slowly wrapped around the mug handle as you polished the inside of it, oblivious to the man in front of you. A quiet tap of the bell seized your attention, looking up to see a dark blonde haired man staring at your movements. "Oh! Sorry, hold on I'll only be a minute." You frantically rush back to the mug stack, gently placed it on top before returning to the stranger. "Sorry about that, what can I get you?" A bright smile is plastered on your face as you tap onto the half broken machine, trying to input your worker code. "Uh.. please could I get the raspberry white chocolate muffin and a vanilla latte?" Leon asked, fumbling with his thumbs below the counter. Thank fuck he didn't mess up his sentence. His hands slowly travelled to his face as he swept the hair out of his eyes, maybe he really should get a trim...

"Yeah of course! That'll be $6.24 please." Leon fumbled with his wallet after taking out $10. "You can keep the change." Leon uttered as the cash register opened, the till jittering out. You couldn't help but smile sweetly as he offered the change to you. "Are you sure?" He nodded as he saw you put the tip in your pocket. "Thanks... I'll get that for you straight away." Your body shifted towards the coffee machine. Leon couldn't help but admire the way you performed your job, it was somehow so different to how Claire would do it. You were angelic in your movements - his thoughts soon interrupted as he felt someone tap his shoulder. "In love?" Claire teased, earning a nudge from Leon's elbow into her side. "Ouch! Okay.. okay." She laughed as she went behind the counter, packaging Leon's muffin. You couldn't help but glance at Leon's smile. He was cute, super cute.

A few minutes later, a warm takeaway coffee cup and muffin stuffed into a brown paper bag laid neatly in front of Leon. "Thanks." Leon took both items into his hand and waved off to Claire, showing you a small smile as the bell chimed, indicating he had left the store. "Who was that?" You rushed over to Claire, her eyes looking at you with playful eyes. "That's Leon, he's my brother's friend or I guess co-worker sort of? He works for the RPD." Claire responded to you with a funny tone. "Why are you looking at me like that?" You laughed out, slowly wiping down the coffee stains on the counter. Your eyes wondering over to the door, missing the stranger you just encountered. "Oh it's nothing, I'm sure you and him will get along well y'know?" She giggled, shoving the tea towel in her pocket. "What the fuck is that suppos-" Your sentence quickly cut off as Claire shouted "I'm going on my break!"

Days passed, time and time again Leon soon became a person you got used to seeing. Smiling whenever you would see that navy blue uniform. A small crush blossomed in your heart - you couldn't tell him that though. Nor could you tell Claire, but she saw it in the way you stared at him as he ordered the same thing. Soon enough, you prepared it beforehand for him to have immediately. 8:30 AM, that's when Leon would come in. With that same uniform and same hairstyle, oh and of course he was handsome every time. Today was no different, except for the fact you weren't in. Leon's day was 100 times better when he saw you, entering the café he expects to see you. Seeing Claire at the front instead of cleaning caught him off guard. "Where's Y/N?" Leon closed the door behind him, leaving the cold and rubbing his hands together as the cozy environment felt different.

"She called in sick, why? Are you lovestruck?" She poked fun at him, getting his order ready. "Oh shut up.." He chuckled, sitting down at a nearby table. Thinking about Claire's words, he knew she was right. He was lovestruck by you. Leon couldn't help but find you so attractive, the way you were so attentive to him. That small talk wasn't awkward with you. He had a crush. "Honestly, yeah." His eyes diverted to the muffin and latte ahead of him. Claire's ears perked hearing his mini confession? "Oh?" She smacked his shoulder lightly. "She's beautiful and super sweet, don't get me started on how.." Leon soon rambled on about you, from your personality to your looks, the way you carried yourself. Losing himself in time as he subconsciously sipped on the latte, finishing the muffin. Claire had to sit down for this, it was cute seeing him chatter about you. "Fuck, sorry about that." He chuckled, checking his wrist-watch, seeing the time flicker to 9:00 AM. "Shit, I gotta go. Thank you for the treat Claire." Leon hastily got up and dashed out the door. Oh how Claire couldn't wait to tell you all about this tomorrow.

"You're shitting me right?" You mumbled, polishing the mugs as you looked over to the wall clock. 8:25 AM. Leon's order by your side as you heard Claire laugh. "Why would I lie about him basically confessing his love about you?" She nudged your arm, snickering as your eyes rolled back playfully. As if Leon could have a crush on you. I mean, you were just a barista who served him his raspberry white chocolate muffin and vanilla latte. What could've been so special about your actions? "Get out of your trance, it's 8:28." You heard Claire from one ear to another as she moved to dust the corners of the room. Oh how cruel could she be to leave you with this new information? The chime of the door caught you off-guard, seeing that same man in that RPD uniform.

"Good morning Leon." A shaky voice elicited from your throat. For Christs sake, pull yourself together. "Morning.. I see my order there." He chuckled, pulling out his wallet, taking out a $20 bill. "Keep the rest." A small grin crept on his face as he passed it to you. You couldn't accept this, not for basically doing something that took you three minutes at most. "Oh Leon, I can't accept this." A breathy laugh pursued out your lips. He wasn't going to take no for an answer. "Please, it's on me. You've been nothing but sweet to me. And this place must be a pain in the ass to clean up at the end of the day." Leon laughed as he took his muffin and latte, sitting down at a table. That was unusual. He usually left to enjoy his snack, but today seemed different. Your friendship seemed different. Leon was right, the sticky sugared tables and coffee splatters were annoying to clean - knowing he would refuse the money if given back to him, you stuffed the change in your pocket. "Thanks Leon.. but you really don't have to tip me each day. Makes me feel guilty, like I owe you." You muttered as you came out from behind the counter. Leon's eyes wondered over you, a small smile corrupting his lips as he thought of something.

"Well.. if you think you owe me, come sit down with me for a bit?" A teasing tone was laced with his words, but who were you to deny him. Even if the blush on your face was evident. "Alright, but why are you sat down? Don't you have to get to the station quick?" Your question rang in his head, your voice melodic in his ears. "Not really, if it comes to it I'll run." He chuckled, sipping on the latte. Burning just the tip of this tongue - warming up the rest of his body. Nothing warmed him up like you though, those pretty lips that rested peacefully on your face. Your giggles enticing him as he looked at your hands slowly fiddle, it was clear you were nervous. Fuck. So was he, but to him this was now or never.

"I uh... can I have your number?" Leon hastily said, averting his eyes from you and staring into the little leaf shape carved by the frothed milk in his hot drink. Did he mess up? Troubled thoughts rushed over Leon's head until he heard you speak. "My number, sure." You couldn't help but smile, Leon just asked for your number. This was practically a dream come true. A quick exchange of each others phone numbers soon lead to a conversation. Getting to know each other was time consuming which soon lead to Leon's face dropping as he checked his wristwatch. "Shit it's 9:15." He laughed, putting his leftovers in the bin. "I'll text you later yeah?" His hand waved off to you, feeling content in yourself.

Throwing your bag to the side of your room, your back aching from the constant horrible posture you had as you bent over tables to wipe them. Your phone buzzed. It was from Leon.

Leon: Can I take you out for dinner this weekend?

likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! thank u for reading :)

-> masterlist

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[pinegreenapples]

Radiostatic Fic Recs Part 3!

Hello everyone! I'm back again with a third installment in fics that I believe are great reads! A quick reminder as always, read the tags and if you don't like something, just tab out! The previous parts can be found here. Part 1 | Part 2

Finished

Sound Effect!

This is a silly little crackfic by the beloved ohdeercoffee! It features proto Vox who has been cursed to be a silent film where all his speech is shown as title cards. This leads to a misunderstanding between him and Alastor, but everyone walks away pleased with the aftermath.

Wallow

This series is heartbreaking. It had me shedding real tears as I read it. Alastor and Vox reckoning with the aftermath of their falling out and the mistakes they made that have cost each other everything.

Oh, I'm gonna be wounded/Oh, you're gonna be my wound

Alastor spends an evening devouring Vox as he watches through his cameras. They end up talking about some things afterwards.

Questionable Attachment

Alastor goes to Vee Tower to mess with Vox because he's bored. They end up kissing and Alastor finds himself consumed with the thought of kissing Vox again.

a glass full of love

Alastor accidentally gets dosed with love potion and falls madly in love with Vox. Vox is milking it for everything he can get.

Playing the Victim

As always, I am a sucker for lykomancer's stories and this one is no different. Vox captures Alastor and implants various hypnotic codes in his psyche before fucking him.

Unsurpassable skills in espionage

Vox manages to collect dirt on the hotel that could ruin them, Alastor is tasked with retrieving said dirt because he's so well versed in subterfuge, and not, as Angel claims, because Vox wants to fuck him.

Two for the Show

This fic was so good! There's something about ohdeercoffee's smut that is just absolutely delectable. Alastor has a little game he plays each time he goes into rut. He goes to bars and flirts with sinners only to blue ball them the second they leave the bar. This time Alastor spots a peculiar looking sinner with a box for a head and decides he will be his next victim.

(Temporary) Truce

Alastor is going through heat after seven years away from Hell. Vox notices the signs and steps in to help.

The Trials and Tribulations of Alastor's Cursed Pussy

As you can imagine from the title, this series deals with Alastor going through estrus and the various points in their relationship that Vox has helped Alastor through it. This series is in turn sexy, funny, and heart wrenching.

Haven

This fic is so sad but so wonderful. Alastor is so desperately worried for his friend and it provides a wonderful characterization of his inner monologue. Vox pisses off another overlord and is kidnapped. Alastor searches the whole of Pentagram City to find him and bring him home.

Two Halves of a Whole Idiot

Alastor goes into heat and chases Vox down as part of a mating ritual. Vox is super into it. They end up fucking about it.

Man or Machine

Vox has just finished another surgical upgrade and Alastor becomes curious as to how much of Vox remains organic and how much has turned mechanical. He conducts his own investigation.

Thought Contagion

Vox works until he drops and Alastor finds it funny to keep a tally of all the silly places Vox has ended up passed out in. During this latest instance, Vox starts to dream and Alastor finds himself drawn to the fantasy displayed on his screen.

Epitaph

This fic is very sad, much hurt and no comfort. Alastor finally commits the inevitable and deals with the fall out of his own needs.

Shadow of Yourself

Another delectable smut piece by the beloved princeliest! Alastor lets slip that he and his shadow share sensation and Vox decides to bring that to the bedroom.

Coup de foudre

The hotel hosts a party to celebrate their win against the exorcists. Alastor meets Vox again and finds himself weak to the man's charms even after decades apart.

Meet Me at My Frequency

Starting after episode 2, Vox's actions push him and Alastor to actually reconcile with each other. The rest of the series follows the rest of canon with some small twists prompted by their rekindled relationship.

Even Exchange

So sad but it has a happy ending! A very nice fic for some good catharsis and exploring Vox's complicated feelings for Alastor. Heaven plans a larger attack and Alastor and Charlie meet with other overlords to secure their support. The Vees agree and join the fight. Vox sustains a major injury.

Video Fucked The Radio Star

Alastor comes to pick up Angel from the studio and Valentino bites him. Unfortunately for Alastor, Val's venom is a potent aphrodisiac. Vox offers to help him through it.

Floating, Where You Belong

This is a delightfully dark fic where Vox hypnotizes and mind breaks Alastor into his own personal sex kitten.

The New and Novel

Alastor grows curious about Vox's hypnotism and he asks Vox to use it on him while they have sex. The end results are very worth it.

Boredom Ruins Everything

Alastor feels particularly vulnerable after his fight with Adam and he worries that he might be overpowered and taken advantage of. This leads him to make a deal with Vox to ensure his own peace of mind. Mostly a smut series, but a very good smut series! Binturong Rose has an excellent grasp of the push-pull between these two and masterfully incorporates that in their sex life.

You'll Know

Alastor's first sexual encounter was deeply disappointing. So much so, that he's never attempted something like that again. After meeting and falling in love with Vox, he decides to give it another try and finds that perhaps sex isn't all bad after all.

Shadows and Light

This fic has been rewritten and this is its newest iteration! Vox brings home his latest film to watch with Alastor. Watching it together brings out some unexpected revelations.

So An Author & A Serial Killer Go On A Date

This one's super cute! Based on a well known tumblr prompt, Alastor and Vox meet because Alastor is a serial killer and Vox is a murder novelist and they have been searching similar things on the internet.

In Your Dreams, Old Pal

Vox has been dreaming of Alastor and himself together for a while. Alastor decides to take a peek and is disgusted to find the simpering dream version of him Vox has made. In a fit of rage, he eats his dream counterpart and accidentally seals his own fate. Now he has to play the part of himself every night in Vox's dreams.

Background Noise

A fluffy fic about Alastor's hooves and how cute Vox finds them!

Nothing Above the Knee

A smutty fic of Vox deeply appreciating Alastor's hooves!

Red Bow Tie

Alastor reminisces on the past and his current relationship with Vox. A bittersweet piece about what could have been and what still is.

golden rule, it's just for show!

An unfortunate incident at an overlord meeting turns all the overlords back to their human forms. Alastor finds himself mesmerized by the slight figure Vox cuts and resolves to make him his.

Brand me (so I'll have a reason to be mad)

This fic is super sexy. I really enjoyed the erotica and characterization of the two. Vox presents Alastor with a piece of jewelry with his brand on it. Alastor ridicules him for it, but does he really consider the piece as tacky as he claims?

Sinking Funds

Alastor discovers that Vox has given him the most exclusive credit card one can get in Hell and decides to take it for a spin to see how much Vox cares about Alastor spending his money.

You Want It Rough, You're Out Of Bounds

I will forever and always be a huge Mothball Milkshake fan. Any time they write radiostatic, I am running to read it. Here, Moth took a break from Signals to give us a lovely smutty fic. Alastor and Vox have finally started up a relationship of sorts. They've had sex several times but vox has never been able to make Alastor come. He's determined to change that tonight!

Wind Me Up and Break Me Down

Another fic by the wonderful Mothball Milkshake! (As I said, I am their number one fan lol) This is loosely connected to the above fic but can be read separately. Vox ties Alastor up and worships his body.

scatterbrain

This fic is sweet and hilarious. Alastor discovers that sleeping is technically optional in Hell and stops sleeping for several decades. Lilith steps in and forces him to sleep until he is fully rested.

The Merman

For my Vox merman lovers, come eat! Alastor has heard tale of these merfolk and has been working to capture one for study. He stumbles across Vox and he attempts to capture him. Vox is amused and decides to keep the pretty human that tried to capture him.

In Season

This fic is cute and funny! A little cracky but a good read! Vox and Alastor used to spend their autumn rut/heat together since both their sinner forms went into heat/rut at the same time. Even as enemies, they kept this arrangement. As Alastor goes into his first rut after his sabbatical, he fully expects Vox to join him like normal. However, Vox is not happy that he got left in the lurch for seven years and refuses to cave to his desires.

Research and Development

Velvette and Valentino are sick of Vox constantly obsessing over Alastor and order him to do something about it. He ends up creating a virtual reality so that he can finally fuck Alastor and maybe get it out of his system. However, the program seems to have other ideas.

when the flies fell

A modern day human AU wherein Alastor convinces Vox to help him summon a demon. This has worse consequences than either of them foresaw as they race to fix their mistake.

Unfinished

Harlem Sunset

Set after the events of episode 2. Alastor approaches Vox to propose scheduled brawls outside of the city. Vox decides to take him up on it and it sets in motion a chain of events that can't be stopped. Just a small note, none of the fight scenes are on camera, so to speak, in the fic. However, the developing relationship is sweet and I am enjoying it a lot!

My Body, Your Temple

This is a masterfully done human AU set in the 1930s. Vox comes down to New Orleans in an effort to poach New Orleans' very own Alastor Deveaux, Alastor finds him absolutely insufferable. They find themselves drawn into each other's orbit and find themselves tangled in an all consuming desire for one another.

Believe Me, (The Sun Always Shines on TV)

In a fit of rage, Valentino damages Vox's head so badly that he can't fix it himself, so he goes to the one person he knows can piece him back together. Doing so forces both Alastor and Vox to confront the ugly history between them.

Summer Wine

Charlie strikes a deal with Heaven to trial run redemption with a sinner of her choosing. By pure accident, Vox and Alastor are selected instead and must work together as they find themselves back on Earth in the modern day.

Perhaps it's Pedestrian

Okay so I normally have a rule that a fic has to have at least three chapters before I toss it up on the list because I always hate clicking on rec lists that are full of one chapter WIPS. However, this fic is so long and wonderfully written for the two chapters it does have that it deserves a spot so more people can go encourage the author with kudos and comments!

Vox and Val break up again and Vox goes to a bar to drink and find a one night stand. Alastor makes that much harder than it should be to do so.

Animal Natures

Another favorite by the dear lykomancer! This time it's a series. As the title suggests, Alastor goes into rut and Vox helps him through it. Unfortunately, Alastor likes it a little too much and now that's Vox's fault, somehow.

For the sake of research and understanding

Alastor is curious about why others seem so obsessed with sex, so he goes to his good pal Vox to ask him to explain to him. One thing leads to another, and Vox finds himself giving a practical demonstration.

An Unforgettable Debut | 1961

After several years of hard work, Vox is finally ready to launch his own studio and has thrown a huge party to celebrate. Unfortunately for him, someone has ordered a hit out on one of the Radio Demon's companions and he's been caught in the crossfire. Will he be able to make it to his party on time?

Modulation Missteps

I'm really enjoying this fic and the worldbuilding the author has put in to make a comprehensive narrative. This is a Human AU where Vox and Alastor were childhood best friends who separated. Years later, Vox forces a reconnect and they have to work through all the ugly emotions they've both been harboring for over a decade.

Now only dogs follow me (Is He Following?)

Several years ago, Vox was an incredible detective solving serial killer cases until he suffered a mental break and was fired. After finally getting his life back on track, all his progress is threatened as a new killer comes to town and the department needs him again. Luckily, he finds support in his old childhood friend, Alastor.

it's not murder, it's research and waste disposal

Okay so. This guy is dark and very gory. And I do mean that a lot. Please read the tags before diving into this fic, it is absolutely not for the faint of heart and it has even grossed me out a few times. That said, it is beautifully written and the relationship between Alastor and Vox is simply divine.

Vox moves to New Orleans and meets Alastor and immediately falls in love. Alastor wishes Vox would choke and die until he finds Vox attempting to dump a body in the bayou and suddenly Vox is so much more interesting.

@00sukisuki00 @15prime8 @19vv91 @3oddsocks69 @ach0ndrit3 @adeala3in1 @ali3npuppyy @alice-after-dark @alice-on-elm-street @almaquinzel @animefanboy48 @anon4usfickly @arleney @aroace-axolotl @aseplant @av0ryx22 @awasteofyourtime @ayoaloe @az13478809 @barblesgirl @beamie-24 @beloved-riverbank @bigsongtraveler @bookworm-blogs @borckschav @bratpfanne-of-doom @brayanneitor @bruhjoll @burrito-me-batman @bv-l7a @camillekarnage @carchee-sh @catgirl-catboy @celenepolaris @charmeecoffee @cheeseindeed @classystudentmiracleus @coins-that-never-land @cpyclopse @creatrajournal @scrumii @cryptidinprogress @d3ath4mybirthday @dancingafterdark @dancingthere @darkenthusiastearthquake @deaddeerdonoteat @dible-png @diequeeria @dragengyrr

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[sasheneskywalker]

fuck or die/mutual non-con/sex pollen batfamily fic recs

A Midsummer Night's Terror: The Great Escape by kleine_aster, njw

A super-villain is on the loose, and he isn't called "The Kinkster" for nothing. On a hot Gotham summer's night, he entraps Batman and his allies, presenting them with a choice—to either succumb to lust, or perish in his maze. Badwrong ensues.

(kleine_aster's fabulous story, with a new ending by njw; posted with permission)

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Damian Wayne, Tim Drake/Jason Todd, Jason Todd/Bruce Wayne

erotes by DairyFarmer

Tim never managed to get down to the lab in the cave before Ivy’s pollen wore off.

He was close a few times, got near a few of the entrances when somebody wanted to fuck him somewhere specific. But nobody ever left him alone long enough to reach it.

E | Underage | Tim Drake/Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake/Dick Grayson, Tim Drake/Damian Wayne, Tim Drake/Jason Todd

What to Do by withthekeyisking

They balked, at first. Tried to talk their way out of it, tried to figure out how they'd escape. Even tried to laugh it off.

But Falcone didn't budge. His deal was clear: either Batman and Nightwing fuck, or he'll kill them all. And with no clear way out and too many weapons to count pointed at them, they have no choice but to comply.

E | Rape/Non-Con | Dick Grayson/Bruce Wayne

a little annihilation by wingdingery

Dick knew something was wrong when he went to check on Bruce, but he’d expected it to be some kind of physical injury—a stab wound, maybe, or a broken bone.

In reality, Bruce had gotten himself dosed with a variant of sex pollen that could kill him if left alone. Dick is the only one around who can save him—and he’ll do it, whether Bruce wants him to or not.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Bruce Wayne

those hands pulled me from the earth by fanfictiongreenirises

Dick and Bruce are both exposed to sex pollen, and neither of them realise quite how potent it is.

DC Dark Week Day 3 - Consent Issues Part 1: Mutual Noncon

E | Rape/Non-Con | Dick Grayson/Bruce Wayne

Never Let Me Go by superbrat

"I want you, Bruce." he says and Bruce chokes, because he doesn’t, not like how it sounds.

"It’s because you're drugged, Dick."

"No," Dick breathes, confused wonderment written all over him, like he’s only just realized. "I don't think it is."

+++

Dick Grayson is kidnapped by sex traffickers, and when Bruce finds him, he's drugged to the gills and begging for Bruce to make it better. They both stumble on feelings they never knew existed.

E | Rape/Non-con | Dick Grayson/Bruce Wayne

Please by cadkitten

Of all the places Bruce thought he'd ever find himself, this was not one of them. Thirteen minutes ago Barbara had patched him through to Dick's comm, had heard his adopted son's labored breathing, heard the desperation in his voice when he pleaded with Bruce to come and get him from where he'd holed himself up at and to please bring the antitoxin.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Bruce Wayne

Sins Of The Father by Nightwang

‘Tim makes the mistake of looking up then, and locks gazes with Bruce, who’s looking over his shoulder. Bruce turns away almost immediately, but not before Tim sees the look in his eyes, something almost indescribable, hollow and frightening. Tim clenches his bound hands into fists and prays he won’t be sick.‘

E | Rape/Non-Con | Dick Grayson/Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd, Tim Drake/Dick Grayson

Psyche-Soma by Fudgyokra

Bruce clenched his fists when he saw the flat side of the blade press against Dick’s crotch. “What is the Batman’s worst fear?”

E | No Archive Warnings Apply | Dick Grayson/Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd/Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd/Bruce Wayne

Protocol by Disniq

Bruce got a face full of Ivy's pollen. There… there are protocols for this.

For BruRobin Week - Day 2: Somnophilia and Day 3: Sex Pollen

E | Underage | Jason Todd/Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson/Bruce Wayne (mentioned), Dick Grayson/Jason Todd/Bruce Wayne (mentioned)

(Grown) Into a Fine Young Man by blasphemybaker

Red Hood is in hot pursuit of Poison Ivy. Batman tries to warn him against chasing her when it is already too late. Jason has been infected with her pollen and Bruce is the only available cure.

Bottom Jason Todd Week 2023 Day 6 - Gentle Rape/Nonviolent Noncon | Possessive/Obsessive Behaviour | Jason is the Youngest AU

E | Rape/Non-Con | Jason Todd/Bruce Wayne

Only A Catalyst by coffeelacedwords

It's moments like this that Jason thinks there's merit to the whole 'you didn't come back right' thing.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Jason Todd/Bruce Wayne

Red light, Yellow light, Green light by sunsh4ne

Robin is affected by sex pollen and Batman will always do anything to help out Robin.

Bottom Bruce Wayne October

Day 6: sex pollen/aphrodisiac

E | Underage | Jason Todd/Bruce Wayne

Patrol With Me by Anonymous

"Come on B, you have to admit it's a little funny." Jason shifted uselessly where he sat, trying to swallow past how raw his voice sounded, the way he couldn't quite keep his breath even. "I'm surprised this is the first time this has happened to us honestly, the stories Dick has told me I mean–"

"Stop talking."

A run in with Ivy turns a routine night of patrol into something else entirely.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Jason Todd/Bruce Wayne

Fever by October_rust

After an encounter with Poison Ivy, Jason has to take care of a compromised Batman.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Jason Todd/Bruce Wayne

Blood on Our Hands by cadkitten

Fate. Luck. Fucking, Karma, the damn bitch. He's no sure which of them put him on this rooftop, watching the disaster below unfold. All he knows is he has to do something. Granted, he and Bruce are still on the outs, but that doesn't mean he can bring himself to just walk away, seeing Bruce and Damian getting their asses beat. He can't have that blood on his hands. Won't have that blood on his hands.

E | Rape/Non-Con, Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Jason Todd/Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd & Damian Wayne

Don't Look by cadkitten

"Don't look." The plea came out desperate, half-gasped, as Jason fell to his knees, hands frantically ripping at his clothing.

E | Underage | Jason Todd/Bruce Wayne

what a harbour I've become by PlatoSaysNo

A drug bust gone wrong leads Robin to his first time, unfortunately.

E | Underage | Tim Drake/Bruce Wayne

Glittering Eyes by withthekeyisking

It was Jason's case, and he didn't need any help, no matter what Dick seemed to think.

Now, staring at the kneeling form of his older brother and the smug smirk on Slade Wilson's face, Jason can admit that maybe he's in over his head.

E | Rape/Non-Con | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Slade Wilson

My Brother’s Keeper by Nightwang

“He’d read once that a possible symptom of a heart attack was an impending sense of doom. You knew something bad was going to happen, but you weren’t quite sure what it was going to be. In that moment Dick knew that whatever Roman was about to say it was going to be bad.”

Dick and Jason are forced into a terrible situation.

For this prompt on the DC Kinkmeme.

E | Rape/Non-Con | Dick Grayson/Jason Tod

Cascading Failures by sirenseven

He's suffered before, and he'll suffer again, and right now he needs to suffer through this too. He'll survive it. It's just his brain telling him he can't.

Or, fuck-or-die, but without any secret pining or remotely romantic feelings. Sometimes it's just guilt and horror.

E | Rape/Non-Con | Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd

safehouse by Jezebunny

When Jason shows up to help Dick, he's moments too late to stop him from being hit by a new formula, derived from one of Ivy's sex pollens.

Of course, it's not as hard to fuck him as it probably should be, given that they're brothers.

E | Rape/Non-Con | Dick Grayson/Jason Todd

to perish twice by Anonymous

“Jay,” Dick gasps, and when Jason opens his eyes, he’s smiling. He’s smiling.

Something in Jason’s chest gets dislodged between one breath and the next. Something in Jason’s chest is lost forever in the crush of his lungs inflating.

He’s beautiful, he’s so beautiful, and Jason’s hard-on makes him feel monstrous, unclean, tainted. He wraps his heavy arms around Dick’s torso and kisses him again. Anything to stop Dick looking at him like that.

E | Rape/Non-Con | Dick Grayson/Jason Todd

getting the job done by Eriord

Jason is undercover, trying to infiltrate a gang. Dick is trying to do the same as a stripper.

There's no reason to expect their paths would cross on their first day.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Jason Todd

Iceberg by sarriathmg

Two weeks ago. Iceberg Lounge…

The kissing, those sweet nothings whispered… all along with the rocking and the heaving, trivializing the leering of Cobblepot and his men, as if it were only the two of them, as if this isn’t Penguin’s lounge but in one of their safe houses.

And now, two weeks later, Jason is barely hanging on by a thread. He can't stop thinking about Dick, his breathing, his kiss, and his words—“Tell me if I hurt you.”

…to make things worse, his brother is now also stalking him.

Jason can't avoid Dick forever.

M | No Archive Warnings Apply | Dick Grayson/Jason Todd

fingerprints all over me (now my throat's choked up and I can't breathe) by lostandlonelybirds (RUNNFROMTHEAK)

“I don’t have my comm, Dick,” is whispered over bare skin as Jason leans in.

There’s a laugh, throaty and wet. No joke has been offered, but no joke is needed.

Two men walk into a bar. Neither walks out.

(Dick is the punchline.)

M | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Jason Todd

A Secret For Another Soul by boyhostage

Of all the things to be woken up by in the middle of the night, Dick hadn't expected Jason Todd.

E | Rape/Non-Con | Dick Grayson/Jason Todd, Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson (mentioned)

brother dear by gayrights1987

Dick and Jason investigate a new date rape drug. Black Mask invites them to perform for him.

E | Rape/Non-Con | Dick Grayson/Jason Todd, Roman Sionis/Jason Todd

don't say no, just say now by crookedspoon

Jason wakes up next to Dick, drugged up to his ears. They are not alone.

Or, the one in which Slade wins Nightwing and Red Hood in an auction and decides to get his money's worth.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Jason Todd/Slade Wilson, Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd

He ain't heavy by BearlyWriting

For the DC Kinkmeme prompt:

Jason and Tim are in the clutches of a villain together and the villain demands that the two of them provide some entertainment by fucking each other or risk some form of punishment.

Also, for BJTW day four: Fuck or Die.

"And that’s the crux of it. Because what Roman is suggesting - demanding - is sick and twisted and awful, but it’s a hundred times better than having to watch the slathering alphas in the room rape Tim. Jason can smell the heavy alpha arousal in the air, hear their excited breathing. He knows that letting them touch either of them would be a total disaster. At least this way, Tim won’t get hurt."

E | Rape/Non-Con | Tim Drake/Jason Todd, Tim Drake/Jason Todd/Roman Sionis, both of those are forced, Tim Drake & Jason Todd

Force-Fed by meaninglessblah

Tim lives a surreal life as a co-victor of the recent Hunger Games, forced to play the role of the enemies-to-lovers couple with his would-be murderer Jason. But he knows, so long as he plays his part, he can survive the Capitol's obsession with him. He just has to take each day at a time, smile for the cameras, and make no waves.

When Tim discovers the price for survival is set far higher than he ever dreaded it could be, he's not sure he wants to pay the price. He's not sure he has a choice, anyway.

E | Rape/Non-Con | Tim Drake/Jason Todd, Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson, Tim Drake/Ra's al Ghul, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson

Turn My Soul (into a raging fire) by kieran_granola

Not long after his confrontation with Bruce and the Joker, Jason crosses paths with an angry Poison Ivy. She accidentally triggers his heat before leaving him for Robin to find.

Still scared and angry about the incident at Titans Tower, Tim has no choice but to help Jason work through his heat when it turns out that he's been abusing suppressants and could very well die without an alpha to help.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Tim Drake/Jason Todd

Die a Hero, Become the Villain by arabmorgan

Jason had broken into Robin’s safe space and beaten him bloody mere months ago, and now the boy was tucked against his chest, trembling like a wet puppy.

It just wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair.

It would have been infinitely better for them both if that fateful day had remained Robin’s worst nightmare.

M | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Tim Drake & Jason Todd, Tim Drake/Jason Todd (implied)

doomed just enough by withthekeyisking

When Dick and Damian get captured by Black Mask, they're given a simple and sadistic ultimatum: fuck or die.

Dick is horrified, unable to wrap his head around the fact that he has to have sex with a boy he views as his son. But Damian has been harboring feelings for his mentor for a long time now, and it's hard to pretend otherwise when he's finally getting Dick beneath him.

E | Rape/Non-Con, Underage | Dick Grayson/Damian Wayne

Obedience by Val_Creative

Taking orders never has been difficult for him, Dick suspects. Everything else can be.

M | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Damian Wayne

two birds on a wire by tentaclemonster

Damian is dying and Slade is the only one with the cure. Dick is willing to do whatever it takes to get it, even if it means hurting Damian in order to save him.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con, Underage | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson, Dick Grayson/Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson/Damian Wayne

Repeat of Case 9304 by cadkitten

Jason lands beside him a second later, dropping down off one of the AC units. He crouches and grasps Damian's chin, tips his head up and stares him down. "Can you still give consent? Or do you want me to knock you out?" When Damian just gapes at him, Jason flicks open one of the pouches on his belt, extracts a dangerous looking needle, and says again, "Last chance. If you can still tell me you want whatever happens, I let you stay conscious. Otherwise, night night little birdie."

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Jason Todd/Damian Wayne

Tie A Knot And Hang On by Nightwang

‘Duke yelps, jerking away. Except Dick comes with him, a strained little grunt escaping him and Duke realises with dawning horror that they’re chained together.’

For the Dick Rare Pair Challenge prompts Duke Thomas and Chained Together.

E | Rape/Non-Con | Dick Grayson/Duke Thomas

Helpless by Nightwang

‘“What do you want?” Nightwing snapped.

The mercenary smirked. “You.”

Tim’s stomach dropped.’

Slade makes a deal.

E | Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd

Smokescreen by wednesday He’d never in a million years do this with Deathstroke, except it’s exactly what Dick is doing now. Couldn’t stop now even if he wanted to. The skin to kin contact feels like a leash, a whirlpool dragging Dick in and drowning him in the sharpness of every exaggerated sensation.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

in the dark dark night by wednesday Jason's attempt to poison the second of his instructors goes awry when Deathstroke happens to be visiting said instructor the same night.

E | Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage | Jason Todd/Slade Wilson

I will not take prey on you by BearlyWriting

‘Roman laughs again. His hand comes up to cup the back of Jason’s neck. His mouth is stretched wide with amusement, teeth flashing against the black of his melted mask.

“You’re serious?” he says, a little breathlessly. “You’re seriously going to offer your own ass up to save them?”’

For bottomjasontoddweek Day 1: Forced to submit/allow himself to be raped to save someone.

E | Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con | Roman Sionis/Jason Todd, Jason Todd/Other(s), Tim Drake & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd

Feeling Trapped by Skalidra

Jason's seen a lot of weird shit in his life. It comes hand in hand with the whole hero thing. Magic, aliens, ghosts, weird mutations that have no business actually happening. Jason's seen a lot, and he's had enough experience to know that there's always something weirder he hasn't gotten to yet. He also knows a lot of it he isn't going to like, because that's his luck. He never gets the cool weird things. He gets the ones that try to eat his face, more often than not.

So waking up groggy and in a cell he's got absolutely no memory of isn't shocking, exactly. It's just unnerving, and really fucking unwelcome.

E | Rape/Non-Con | Jason Todd/Slade Wilson

Like A Man Possessed by meaninglessblah

When he opens his eyes again, Damian’s rising from his crouch, expression solemn and focused. It looks like him, Tim thinks, and smothers another groan as the room pulses.

It’s not. He knows it’s not.

He hopes it’s not.

E | Rape/Non-Con | Tim Drake/Damian Wayne, Tim Drake/Ra's al Ghul, Dick Grayson/Damian Wayne, Ra's al Ghul/Dick Grayson

[immeasurablesaladagere]

Hi!!! Can we please get a fic of little Wilson regressing for the first time in front of house, but House is absolutely clueless and has no clue what to do with littles 🫶🫶

Here you go :) I feel like House and Wilson both already knew what agere was from med school, but House is completely oblivious to the community part and doesn't get the caregiving thing. House is the "I will make sure this child doesn't die" uncle who doesn't like kids that much lol. He tries.

-----

Word Count: 1104

Summery: House comes home early to find Wilson regressed. Wilson is surprisingly calm about the whole thing, which is great, because House has no idea what to do with him.

-----

House let out a long breath and slowly closed the laptop. Wilson sat in front of him with an expectant and slightly nervous look on his face, dressed in solar system pyjamas House had no idea he even owned until today with a fuzzy blue blanket wrapped around his shoulders and a stuffed bear in his lap.

He knew what age regression was. They both did; multiple psych rotations over the course of their careers meant they were bound to encounter it at least once, on top of their textbook education as med students, but he had to hand it to Wilson, even he hadn’t seen this one coming.

Wilson had been weirdly calm about the whole thing when he came back home unexpectedly early from what was supposed to be his date with a very pretty sex worker, because seriously, how do you double-book a hookup? And walked in on Wilson in his pyjama getup and watching a Disney movie. He only froze for a second before grabbing his laptop and pulling up way too many articles for House to read. Some were semi-professional medical websites, and others looked like the concept of the words ‘pastel unicorn’ puked all over them, but all relayed the same general information. Not a fetish, coping mechanism, child-like state of mind, blah blah blah. Nothing he didn’t already know.

Forget the hooker, his night had just become way more interesting. “So,” He began, popping a handful of Vicodin, “Is there a reason… why? Do you have some traumatic past? Actually, you know what? Never mind, if you do have some weird family trauma I don’t really want to hear about it.” But at the same time, maybe he did. “…Do you?”

Wilson shrugged, almost completely unfazed, and his eyes wandered back to the paused movie, The Fox and the Hound, that was apparently much more important than their “conversation”. Wilson had yet to say a single actual word to him.

“And you’re not talking because..?”

Another shrug.

“That’s very helpful, thank you.”

Now that the whole “big reveal” was over, House didn’t really know where to go from there. Sure, it was weird and Wilson was never, ever going to hear the end of it for the rest of his days, but what was he going to do? Tell Wilson that he couldn’t enjoy kids movies in pyjamas on the floor in silence?

Wilson unpaused the movie and turned away from him.

The websites mentioned something about caregivers, one of the only things he hadn’t heard of before, who were supposed to be like parents and kept regressed individuals from sticking their fingers in electrical sockets or eating coins or whatever they did, and made sure they ate and went to bed on time. Did Wilson need that? It definitely wasn’t his first time being regressed and he wasn’t dead yet.

“Well, as long as I don’t have to throw you in the looney-bin for some kind of mental-breakdown. Do I need to do anything, or are you..?” He motioned vaguely at Wilson in what hopefully came across as an are you good if I stop giving a crap? gesture. Wilson nodded. “Cool.”

House made himself comfortable on the couch and picked up the book he was working on from the side table, only glancing up every few pages when whatever was going on in the land of Disney sounded more interesting than reading about a man’s trip in the mines. Wilson seemed content for the most part, though every now and then House caught him staring.

Eventually, around halfway through the movie Wilson got up silently and went to the kitchen, so silently that House didn’t even notice he was gone until he heard the sound of metal clattering around and the fridge being opened. When he went to investigate, he was met with Wilson holding a block of cheese and wielding the biggest knife they owned pointed directly towards himself.

“What are you doing? Put the knife down, put it down!” He said, and Wilson complied by dropping it gracelessly on the counter where it wobbled dangerously close to the edge. House grabbed it before it could take his toes off and batted Wilson away from it.

Wilson innocently held out the block of cheese to him.

“You want this? Fine, then let me do it before you maim yourself.” He snatched the cheese and put it down on a plate, then grabbed an appropriately-sized knife and cut a portion of the cheese into smaller squares. “There. Do you want anything else?”

Apparently the answer was no, because Wilson took the plate of just cheddar cheese and walked right back to his spot on the living room floor.

“You know, a ‘thank-you’ would be nice!” House called after him, putting the cheese back in the fridge. Clearly Wilson wasn’t as self-sufficient as he had thought. But with Wilson’s hunger satiated, he assumed that would be the end of the child-dilemmas for the night.

He was proven wrong just half an hour later as the movie ended, and Wilson began sniffling.

House set down his book and sighed. Oh God. “What’s wrong with you?”

Wilson turned to him, tears already flowing down his cheeks and bottom-lip wobbling, and pointed at the screen. “Puppy…” He whimpered.

Sure enough, the Puppy and the Fox were being forced to go their separate ways, but there was no reason for Wilson to be as upset as he was. “Yes, the puppy and the fox are leaving, it’s very sad.” He deadpanned, “No need to cry about it.”

That only made him more upset, and the quiet sniffling quickly began building into hiccups.

“Jesus Christ. Come here.” 

Wilson got up and dropped into the spot directly beside him on the couch, so close that their legs were touching.

“Why are you sad?”

Wilson sniffed his snot-filled nose loudly. “They’re not friends anymore…”

“That’s the plot of the movie, yep. Sometimes things happen, and you can’t be friends forever. That’s life, kid.” House gave him a consolatory pat on the shoulder, and Wilson took that as an invitation to drop headfirst against him and get his tears and mucus all over his shirt. He grimaced, but telling him to get off wasn’t worth the meltdown it was sure to cause.

So Wilson sat for a few minutes, pressed up against him and occasionally making sad little whining noises. Eventually he pulled away just slightly and mumbled, “Are we gonna be friends forever?”

“Will that make you stop crying?” He asked, and Wilson nodded. He sighed. “Then sure. We’ll be friends forever, Jimmy.”

[multifandom-worlds]

Missing in Action

Genre: angst

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: Suicide, mental health struggles, grief, death (in passing), violence, bullying.

Authors Note: Hi everyone! This is going to be a bit of a heavier fic. If it's to much for you to handle, that's okay! Take care of yourself. This does have a bit of a happier ending. If I missed anything in the warnings, do let me know!

Ape - Bee

Bellissima - beautiful

Tagging: @slytherins-heir @simplyholl

The Battle of Hogwarts -- one of the bloodiest battles in the Second Wizard War, and you lived to tell the harrowing tales. You were one of the lucky ones.

 A year and a half had passed since then, the castle had been rebuilt, and the dead were laid to rest. It took a year for classes to resume, but here you were again, going through the routine again with your closest friends - Draco Malfoy, who bravely fought against his parents on the side of good, Theodore Nott, Lorenzo Berkshire and Regulus Black. Although things were getting back to normal, a significant part of your group was missing. Mattheo Riddle, son of the Dark Lord himself but, more importantly, your beloved, was gone. 

Mattheo was not among the survivors at the end of the war, nor was his body found within the ruined castle rubble. The professors and Ministry of Magic alike scoured the school grounds in search of anything, but nothing could be seen of him. The mystery of his disappearance deepened, with rumours of what happened to him beginning to spread. One thing all the rumours had in common was painting Mattheo as a hero - the prodigal son of the Dark Lord, standing up against him, holding off the death eaters while many students fled. He was one of the many unsung heroes of the war, his fate uncertain.

As the months progressed and nobody ever found any trace of Mattheo, the hope of his survival began to drop. First, it was the Ministry. A few months later, the professors gave up hope that he was alive. Just recently, Theo had finally given up hope that he was still alive. You heard him talking in the Great Hall about it.

“What do you lot think? Is he actually coming back?” Theo asks, his voice calm. It was not quite a whisper, but it was not his total volume. “Do you believe Matt was actually able to survive the war? Survive all the shit he endured? Are we just kidding ourselves and holding onto false hope?”

Draco shook his head, looking around for you, hoping you weren’t in earshot. “There’s no way. He could not possibly have survived. I heard that on the second anniversary, they’re going to add his name to the In Memory speech. It seems as though everyone has accepted it now, except her.”

“I’ll tell her,” Theo says dejectedly. He didn’t want to break your heart even more. “It’s best it comes from me. I don’t want her to get blindsided by the news when it happens; she already has nightmares every night about the war. Like the rest of us, she carries those scars, mental and physical. She won’t like it.” he trails off with a deep sigh, placing his head in his hands, mentally psyching himself up to go have this conversation yet again. 

He leaves the Great Hall in the direction of the Slytherin dorms. It wasn’t hard to know where you would be - you spent all your time in his bed, wearing his clothes and, in Theo’s mind, prolonging your hurt.

“You’re wrong, Theo!” You whimper, staring at your boyfriend's best friend standing at the door to his and Mattheo’s dorm. “He can’t be gone! There’s no way he's gone! We killed his father! You were the one who cast the curse!”

He opens the door of the dorm, seeing you sitting on his bed, reading your book, his pillow between your arms. “Hey, we have to talk.” He says, leaning against the doorframe. “They want to add his name to the list of students who died. I think it's time, Bellissima. I think you need to let him go. He died protecting the school, its students and you.”

Theo sighs, running his fingers through his curls. “Ape, he’s gone. There are so many places his body could be that would have been hidden. Yes, we killed his father, but that does not mean he didn’t have a hand in his death. I miss him, too. I miss him like you wouldn’t believe it, but you need to accept that he’s gone. He would want you to move on, apa.”

Your tears began to slide down your cheeks as Theo carefully sat beside you, wrapping his arms around you protectively. It didn’t take long for your whimpers to turn into full sobs as you hid your face against his chest. Words can not describe how terrible Theo felt at that moment, holding you once again as you sobbed into his chest. He wanted you to move on, to move on from all the pain and memories that place had, but until Mattheos body was recovered, he knew it was impossible. He held you as you cried, resting his chin on the top of your head, just as he has done almost nightly since the battle ended. 

Theo pulls you away from him once all your tears dried up.  “Please come for dinner, ape. The others are asking about you, and I want you to eat something, please.” He brushes your hair from your face, looking at you earnestly.

You nod softly, wiping your eyes. “O-okay. I do miss Reggie and Ferret Boy.” you chuckle at the nickname. Draco absolutely hated it, but he begrudgingly accepted it from you. “And obviously Enzo.”

Theo stands up first, taking your hand and carefully helping you to your feet, his hands on your shoulders to keep you balanced. Once you finished mentally preparing yourself, you take his arm, leave the dorm, and make your way upstairs to the Great Hall. You keep your eyes down, not wanting to make eye contact with anyone. Theo keeps you close; his imposing height and proclivity for fighting keep everyone away from the two of you. 

“There she is.” You could hear Draco say as you and Theo step into the Great Hall. Tentatively, you look up, meeting the eyes of your favourite ferret. He smiles, waving you over. You and Theo make your way to the Slytherin table before joining your friends. “You look good, Bee,” Draco says once you’re sitting between him and Lorenzo. 

“Fuck yeah, you do,” Enzo says next, pulling you into a side hug, and Theo rounds the table and sits across from you, beside Regulus. “I missed having my favourite Slytherin around. It’s not the same without you.”

“You see me in class every day, Enz…” You mutter, looking at him. You had no idea why they missed you because you still went to all your classes with them. “I’m still around; I don’t know what you mean?”

“I just mean...” Lorenzo begins, but a second voice interrupts him. You look up and see Cormac McLaggen standing just behind Regulus and Theo, a stupid, cocky smile plastered on his face. 

“He means your depressed ass isn’t worth being around,” Cormac says, his friends laughing at the face you were making, your eyes welling up with tears. “Fuckin’ crybaby. If you miss that cunt so much, why not join him? Just do it in front of me so I can enjoy you.” 

Within seconds of the last sound leaving Cormac’s mouth, Theo was on his feet, colliding his fist into Cormac’s nose, sending him sprawling against the empty table behind him. Before anyone realized what had happened, Theo was on him, landing punch after punch into his face. 

Regulus joins in, the two of them taking turns being Cormac’s face until he is 50 shades of black and blue. His nose bent at a noticeable angle, his eyes were actively swelling and already turning black, and his cheek caved in. Several of his fingers bent out of shape, and he most certainly had several broken ribs. He lays motionless on the table, barely conscious as Madame Pomfry and McGonagall come rushing over.

“Mr. Nott, Mr. Black, what is the meaning of this!?” McGonagall demands, looking between Cormac and the two Slytherins. 

Theo looks up at her, his lips pulled into a tight line, his whole body tense. “He called Mattheo a cunt, called his girlfriend a crybaby and told her to kill herself in front of him so he could fuck her dead body.” He stated matter of factly. He knew he was justified in his merciless beating. 

“And I meant every fucking word. She’s a depressed bitch who needs to join her” beloved” if she missed him that much” Theo, Regulus and McGonagall could hear Cormac's strained laughter after he finished speaking. 

Theo grabs him by his collars, hauling him up so their faces are inches apart. “If I hear you say anything about her or Mattheo, I will cut out your tongue with a pair of rusty scissors and watch you bleed to death. Got that, Cormac?” Theo drops him back on the table, spitting in his face before turning around and seeing you hiding your face against Draco’s jacket. 

“Detention for you both! And 50 points from Slytherin. Each.” McGonagall states, looking between Theo and Regulus before turning her attention to you. “As for you, dear. This really is not good for you; you need to accept that Mr. Riddle is no longer with us. You need to move on and focus on your academics.” 

“Excuse me…” you mutter, pushing away from Draco and running out of the Great Hall. You blink away tears as you navigate through the school. You didn’t know where you were going; you just needed to know you had to get away. Away from everyone who believed he was dead, away from everyone who told you to move on. Away from it all. 

You found yourself at the top of the Astronomy tower, looking out over the grounds of Hogwarts. You sigh, remembering all the blood and carnage that decorated the grounds years before. You look over at the Forbidden Forest, the last place you saw Mattheo alive. He saved you from a death eater’s imperious curse by casting his very own Unforgivable curse - Avada Kadavra. You didn’t even have a chance to thank him before he was snatched up and dragged away by Fenrir Greyback. The last thing you heard from him was him yelling that he loved you and that he would find you again, in this life or the next. 

You could hear a commotion below you on the grounds, but you paid it no mind. You were tired, tired of everyone telling you he was dead, tired of everyone bringing it up, tired of looking at your body in the mirror and seeing all the scars from that cursed battle on your skin, forced to relive it day after day. The PTSD was too much for you to handle, so you decided to jump, to end everything once and for all. You knew Theo and Regulus would be in detention; Draco and Enzo were probably tormenting them, so there was no one to stop you. 

You pull your robes off, folding them neatly on the ground before grabbing your phone and writing a quick note, an explanation of why you did it. You carefully place your phone on top of your robes before stepping back up to the railing, intending to throw yourself off it when your phone rings. You picked it up again, only to see Theo’s name pop up. Odd, he should be in detention right now; you decide to answer it, acutely aware it could be one of Cormac’s minions ready to continue what he started. 

“Hello…?” You answer timidly, walking back to the railing. The commotion happening below you was getting louder. Clearly, you were about to have an audience.

“Don't do it, my love. I need you!” The voice on the phone sounded too much like Mattheo, but you knew it couldn't be. He was dead; everyone believed it, and you were going to be next.

“Who are you, and why do you have Theo’s phone? He’s in detention right now.” You say, anger beginning to surge to the surface. 

“You know who I am, love. Please, please don’t. Don’t listen to Cormac, he’s a scumbag. I need you; Theo and Reggie need you. Draco and Enzo need you to. We all need you. Please, my love, don’t do it.”

Your hand grips your phone, trembling. “I'm going to do it. Cormac was right. I'm going to jump and put an end to everyone's misery.”

The voice began talking again, sounding frantic. “Please, baby. Please don't jump. I can't bear to watch my only light extinguish herself. Please, Theo's on his way to get you, but please, please step away from the railing.”

“I don't know who I'm talking to, but it's not Mattheo. I don't believe you! You're just made up, a figment of my imagination. You're not real! He’s dead, and everyone believes it! But I'm going to be joining him soon!” You step forward, swinging one leg over the railing, tears streaming down your face. 

“Mon Coeur, please….” 

You swing your other leg over the railing, looking down at the dizzying height, ready to let go, when a pair of strong arms wrap tightly around your waist, pulling you back to safety. 

“No! Let me go! I want to do it! I want to end it all! Please just let me join him!” You cry, fighting with whoever it was that grabbed you. 

The arms wrap tighter around you before a familiar Italian accent hits your ears. “Ape, he's alive. You were right. He's at the bottom of the stairs. Come down, come with me, and we can see him together.” 

“You're wrong, Theo! You told me he's dead! You and everyone else kept telling me he was dead and I needed to move on. Why are you tormenting me like this? Why are you doing this? Please just let me die.” You sob, fighting against Theo’s grip. 

Theo rests his chin on your head. “If you're not going to walk down these steps, I'm going to carry you down, but we are going,” he says, very matter-of-factly. You give up, knowing Theo is serious. He notices the call is still connected, so he grabs the phone from your hand and puts it to his ear. “I have her; she’s safe in my arms. We're on your way down, Matt.” 

“Oh, thank Merlin. Okay, I'll see you two soon.” Mattheo says a wave of relief washing over him. He was so thankful she believed he was still alive. If only he had gotten to you sooner, maybe you wouldn't have fallen this far into the darkness. All that mattered was he was about to see you again for the first time since the battle.

You and Theo slowly begin to descend the stairs; he has his arm wrapped securely around your waist, keeping you stable since your anxious trembling makes each stair dangerous. The closer to the bottom you got, the more your heart pounded in your chest. Theo wouldn’t lie…right? He wouldn’t pretend Mattheo was alive and the voice on the phone sounded so much like him, but it couldn’t possibly be him. You knew what Greyback was capable of; there’s no way Mattheo survived that.

You and Theo arrive at the bottom of the stairs, and there, standing right in front of you, is Mattheo - an older, more scarred and more traumatized version of Mattheo, but it is still Mattheo, your Mattheo.

You let go of Theo, nervously walking towards him. “Matty…?” You ask, gently touching his cheek. He cups your hand with his, leaning into your touch, his eyes meeting yours. You knew those soulful brown eyes anywhere; this is your Mattheo.

He smiles, taking your hand and kissing your palm, just as he always did before. “In the flesh, Mon Coeur. I missed you so much. I dreamt about you every night when I wasn’t plagued with nightmares. I was so scared you had either died or moved on, and I would never have you in my arms again, never wake up with your perfect face, never listen to you talk about everything you loved. Draco told me you never gave up hope, even when everyone else did. Thank you, baby. Thank you for not giving up on me.”

“But how…?” you question, meeting his eyes, pleading with him. “How are you still alive? E-everyone believed you died…I saw you! I saw Greyback take you! A-are you really him?” You ask, step away, your suspicions growing. This has to be some sort of prank.

Mattheo’s face fell, his smile replaced by a heartbroken frown. “I promise, I am who I say I am. What can I do to make you believe me, amour?” 

You look at him, wanting so desperately to believe. “How did you survive? Where were we, and what was the last thing you said to me?”

“We were in the forbidden forest; I told you I love you, and I would find you in this world or the next.” He smiles, seeing the doubt melt away from your eyes. “And as for how I survived. My brother. Tom.”

[aziraphales-library]

hello there! thank you so much for all the work you're doing, it's amazing:)

i was wondering (since i tried to search ao3 myself and found nothing), if you know about any pretty woman AUs? thank you so much and have a great day!

I do! Not a complete one unfortunately:

Pretty Boy by SerenityStargazer [E], WIP

Aziraphale Fell, real estate tycoon, finds himself in need of a companion during a business week in London. He meets Crowley in Soho and finds he enjoys the younger sex worker's company. They spend the week together and both are surprised to find themselves falling in love.

"Hey, handsome," Crowley purred, "want a date?"

"Right now," the blond man replied in a very proper, educated accent, "what I need are directions to the Ritz. Got myself turned around, I'm afraid."

"Five pounds for directions, luv," Crowley said calmly.

"Five pounds? That's ridiculous!" the man sputtered indignantly.

"Ten pounds. The price just went up."

"You can't charge me for directions!"

Crowley grinned. "I can do whatever I want, angel. I'm not lost." He stood up and turned his back, letting his arse lean against the window frame.

"Oh, very well," the man said, pulling out his wallet. Crowley opened the door and climbed in.

"For a twenty, I'll take you there personally," he offered.

Aziraphale handed the twenty over silently then tried to find first gear.

Other fics with similar premise:

The (Half) Boyfriend Experience by ZehWulf [M]

The image on the monitor remained static for another minute or so, but then the door to the connected room opened, and the pale, curly-headed figure of Crowley's client—a man who went by Fell at the club—stepped through. As always, he stopped just after closing the door behind him to collect himself, gaze trained on where Crowley's lower half was splayed wide on lewd display. There was a whole ritual of straightening cuffs and waist coat and shifting his weight that he would go through before approaching.

Crowley felt their lingering scowl soften as they watched with vague fondness as he worked himself through the motions. At first, they'd wondered if the whole process was some sort of pre-sex psych-up, or a fussy-looking-middle-aged man version of reflexive peacocking. But, Fell had been requesting them for long enough by now that they'd been able to observe the way things evolved over time: the gestures loosening up, the amount of time spent shortening.

The poor bastard was just anxious.

OR

Crowley works part time as a sex worker at a club, and one of their favorite, most baffling clients comes in looking like he's had just as bad a day as they have.

Dreaming of You by TawnyOwl95 [E]

AJ Crowley likes helping people discover and heal the neglected parts of themselves. Even if that's only for their scheduled session. He likes being a sex worker, although he's started to dream of some genuine intimacy.

Aziraphale Fell knows he isn't deserving of romance. As much as he might like the idea, a lifetime of neglect has left him insecure and afraid to reach for what he wants. He still dreams that one day he might be brave enough to take a chance.

Hired Heart (illustrated by many artists) by GayDemonicDisaster (scrapheapchallenge) [E]

As a result of his sheltered upbringing, Aziraphale made it to 50 without exploring his sexuality or coming out. After 50, all that changed - he's gay, he's out, and wants to find love. He also wants to have sex. He's a tad nervous about that. His friend Agnes suggests he consult a professional and get some no-strings practice and advice, and build some confidence. And her friend Tracy runs an agency…

Crowley has quite the breadth of sexual experience: he’s a high class escort. He’s been in his line of work for a long time, though in this industry, that’s not exactly an advantage. He likes his work, but the more he’s reminded that he’s not as young as he once was, the more he contemplates his exit strategy. When his bookings manager and friend Tracy gives him a new, nervous client, Crowley finds him unexpectedly captivating. In fact, Crowley can’t seem to get him out of his head.

A Smitten Crowley is also a very silly Crowley, so prepare for giggles and fluff along with your love story and smut...

Seirbheis by Kalimyre [E]

Human AU - Crowley is a sex worker, hired by the wealthy and eccentric Ezra Fell for a long weekend. He goes in expecting it to be just another job. But Ezra is not like other clients, and Crowley is soon in over his head.

In which our beloved ineffable husbands have clear, honest communication, a whirlwind romance, and tremendous amounts of soft, tender, kinky sex.

~Mod N

[covenofthearticulate]

Ash I’ve been bitten by the Louis!Simp bug, I need your headcanons about his romantic side please and thank you 🥹 (with specific partners or in general or both, dealers choice!!!)

JESS!!!!!! hello. in all forms but physical i am squeezing your shoulders and kissing your cheeks. welcome to the louis!simp club i am so glad you're here

anyway YEAH i think in terms of fanon, folks tend to underestimate Louis' interest/capacity for romance because he always has a bad time whenever anyone tries to show him a Grand Romantic Gesture but i just adhgdskfbhsjbfvdjhbf I think Louis is one of the most romantic characters in the series!!! he just shows it in ways that aren't obvious to those who don't know him well, but I know for a fact that this man is down so bad for Lestat and Armand and just wants to see them happy.

He strikes me as the kind of person who puts a lot of time and effort into the love he gives— whether that's spending actual time with his lovers (I always HC that his preferred love language is Quality Time) or hunting down a specific gift, or even taking the time to better himself!!

Like I know we talk about it a lot, but I think all the times throughout later canon where Louis dresses nicely for Lestat and Armand is such a great example of the type of lover Louis is. That's the closest thing to any Grand Love Gesture he'll get. We know if it were up to him, he would wear the same clothes for centuries. He doesn't care about his appearance, but he knows that Lestat and Armand do. He knows that they like to look at him, that they like to see him in fine things, just as he used to like seeing Claudia in fine things. They gift him clothes because that is their way of showing affection, and he knows he can ease Lestat's or Armand's anxiety just a little bit by accepting that affection and allowing them to fawn over his beauty, even if it makes him uncomfortable. Louis is someone who thrives with the comfort of the familiar; to step out of his comfort zone is a BIG DEAL to him, and I think we really see that reflected in Lestat and even Armand's narration any time they do see him all dressed up, like they always seem so surprised and awestruck LOL

ANYWAY yeah he cares so deeply for his loved ones like really truly, I think that Louis is the kind of lover who is just so thoughtful. Gift giving isn't necessarily his preferred love language, but he's ALWAYS thinking of Lestat and Armand, and it manifests in different ways. Some nights he'll barge into the room and read aloud an article he thinks they might find interesting, and he'll ask them questions and soak in every one of their opinions. Other nights he simply graces them with his presence and reads silently beside them.

And other nights still, Louis will revisit arguments that occurred a century ago, or even an hour ago, and will pick at old wounds not because he is truly upset, but because Louis is genuinely the kind of person who is constantly thinking about the things Lestat or Armand have said to him. He's constantly picking their words apart in his head, trying to find new meaning, and I know it's absolutely infuriating for Lestat, but there's something about Louis where, even as he's rebutting an argument from two years back, there's a passion in his eyes that's just so exciting and almost kind of sweet. You just KNOW that Louis loves to debate, not for the sake of winning (though he loves to win) but because he loves to hear his lovers' ideas and understand their psyche. Honest to god, I think Louis' ideal date night would be debating beside a cozy fire LOL

Okay sorry this is getting long! I don't have a lot of individual headcanons BUT one favorite headcanon that I've had in my back pocket and do want to turn into a fic one day is that Louis teaches himself to speak Armand's native tongue, so he can tell him he loves him with a language Armand has not heard for centuries.

Another headcanon I've been thinking about as well is like, in a similar vein to the clothes thing, Louis understanding how insecure Lestat gets at times, especially about how their relationship is perceived. So like, again with the comfort zone thing, I think Louis tries very very very hard to swallow his discomfort in order to occasionally hold Lestat's hand in public. Maybe even kiss him, who knows. He loathes being perceived, but he'll do it for Lestat.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Role Reversal

Roman kept mentioning that he doesn’t like transformations and it kept reminding me of Patton turning into a giant frog and Janus disguising himself as other sides. It would be very cool and epic if you could make some Roman angst based off this concept (no pressure obviously) – anon

The song "I Am in Great Pain, Please Help Me" by Crywank reminds me so much of Roman (specifically, your brand of Roman angst). I was wondering if you had the spoons for it, to write something inspired by it? No pressure to, ofc! – anon

Perhaps something where Roman is comforting Logan and then after Roman leaves, Logan is like, “Wait, shit, I should have been comforting YOU!”. You know the scene in What Makes A Perfect Gift where Logan asks for Roman’s input and Roman looks genuinely surprised? The angst potential for Roman not thinking he’s needed at a BRAINSTORM is so slept on. I know you’ve had a lot of Roman angst asks lately so I understand if you don’t want to do it, but I definitely wanted to ask just in case! – anon

Roman angst disguised as Logan centric. Logan Sherlock fic about him trying to figure out why Thomas’s mental health is so bad. – anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: roman being insecure, logan being insecure

Pairings: logince can be platonic or romantic you decide

Word Count: 3143

Logan feels stressed about Thomas's mental health and goes to Roman for help discussing a possible upcoming video, only for Roman to accurately guess that Logan's feeling insecure about his own role in keeping Thomas happy and healthy. Little does Logan know: there's more going on than meets the eye and it isn't until later that he realizes Roman's far more fragile than anyone could've guessed. After that, well, there's really only one course of action.

If Logan had not been paying very, very close attention, there is every possibility that he could have missed it.

He almost did; despite being entirely focused on his goal, he has to admit that it wasn't something he saw as necessarily related, and as such, dismissed initially as not relevant to solving the problem of why Thomas's mental health had been in a steady decline since the wedding. However, upon further reflection, he can conclude that not only was the sudden tightening of Roman's expression related, it was most likely the strongest indicator he's seen since he began.

"Sorry, Specs, I think my hearing cut out of a second there." Roman scratches the back of his head almost sheepishly. "Can you—can you say that one more time?"

"I believe it would be helpful for Thomas for us to do another 'low-key' video, as it were, and for you and I to work together."

"Yes, I heard that part."

"As we want to focus on recapturing some of Thomas's whimsy and zest for life—" here Roman's expression quirks towards amusement— "it would be apt for you to try and recreate some of the dreams Thomas has held onto in the past."

"Right, but not like—"

"Including transforming into those he aspired to be or the roles he aspired to fill," Logan finishes, frowning when there's that momentary tightness in Roman's smile again, "do you concur?"

"I—so I'm all for helping Thomas fall in love with his dreams again, you know, but, um…" He twists his fingers together. "I'm not sure that this is…the best way to do it?"

"You are the embodiment of Thomas's Hopes and Dreams. Who else would be better equipped to help me?"

Roman blinks as if he hadn't been expecting the comment. Which is in and of itself a little odd; Roman typically never passes up the opportunity to remind them of his standing in Thomas's psyche, nor to claim credit for half of the things Thomas does even when it's far more of a group effort. "Right, but I don't see how me turning into various things would be helpful."

"Thomas is a very visual learner. It's been proven in the past via various theater productions and other activities that he thrives in environments where he can immerse himself in what it is he's doing. By having you, his Creativity, directly mimic the dreams he wishes or wished to obtain, we draw a more substantial connection between the Thomas that he is now and the Thomas he aspires to be."

Roman's mouth works. Logan frowns.

"If you have something you want to say, Roman, by all means, speak your mind. This brainstorm won't be nearly as successful if only one of us is contributing."

"Where is this coming from, Logan?"

"I'm not quite sure what you mean."

"This." Roman gestures back and forth between them. "This sudden need to 'fix' Thomas. You've been pretty clear with the rest of us that you don't think staying 'in his head' would be helpful, not when you're working so hard on your lists that you want him to do."

"Well, it's been pretty clear those aren't working, so—"

"But they have been. You know they have been—we all celebrated when Thomas finally managed to clean his kitchen and you were right, he did feel better afterwards. Your methods were working, are working."

Logan swallows. He did feel very accomplished after the last bowl had been placed in the cupboard, and no one had been happier than he when Thomas not only made himself dinner but cleaned up afterwards, but this was different. "Thomas deserves the drive to go after what he wants as well as doing the maintenance required to sustain his current lifestyle."

Roman nods. "And what sorts of things are those?"

"Roman, I don't understand—"

"Please," he interrupts, holding up his hands, "humor me?"

"You're the one who's Hopes and Dreams," he protests feebly, "you're Creativity. I'm not going to be good at coming up with them."

"Just try. You're better at it than you think."

"O-oh." He blinks. "Thank you, Roman."

"Of course."

"Uh—well, I think Thomas has a passion for filmmaking that he hasn't fully realized in shooting the YouTube videos due to the constraints of the channel."

"Okay."

"He's been enjoying doing the modeling shoots for Instagram as well. And he has a few shows that he wants to catch up on—not a dream, I know, but something he wants to do."

"That's good, Logan. What else?"

"Does he still have the dream of being an actor? On a more professional level?"

"I believe so, yes."

"Well, there you are, then."

Roman nods. "And if we go off of your transformation idea, what—what exactly would I be transforming into?"

He furrows his brow. "Well, you would be—if you were doing—I suppose you—ah. I see your point."

"It's not that there's something Thomas isn't that we need to make him into," Roman says quietly, "we can just remind him of the things that are already inside him that he can chase and pursue."

"…that is a very valid conclusion to have reached."

"He doesn't have to work all the time—I think both you and I know the dangers of letting yourself believe you can," he says with a gentle nudge to Logan's shoulder, "he can give himself time to rest and work on things that he wants to, not things that he has to."

"And I suppose making another video would be counterproductive to this aim, as it requires a level of work that would not be outweighed by the reassurance it might provide."

"I don't know if I would've said it nearly as well as you, but yeah, pretty much."

Logan sighs, closing his notebook with an almost despondent flap. "Then I suppose I have nothing else to work on."

"Good."

He frowns at Roman. "'Good?'"

"Well, now that means you can do the things that you want to do."

"M-me? What on earth are you talking about?"

"Did we not just go over how important it is to not be consumed by work all the time?"

"Well, yes, but—"

"Did we not just talk about how it's necessary to rest and do the things you want to do from time to time?"

"I don't—"

"Did you not just say that you have nothing else to work on right now?"

"I know what you're doing," he says, meaning for it to come out accusatory and missing dreadfully, "it's not going to work."

"Me convincing you to take time for yourself and enjoy spending your time how you want to spend it isn't going to work?" Roman grins, leaning forward onto his elbows, propping his chin on his hands. "Are you sure?"

"Roman," he warns.

"What? It's not like I was the only one who came to this conclusion about Thomas a second ago, you were instrumental in figuring it out, Specs."

"Roman."

"And we all know that you're way smarter than I am, so if you're going to take your own advice—which you should, then—"

"Alright!" Roman laughs as Logan buries his face in his hands, trying not to smile too obviously at the praise or blush from how many compliments Roman's just given him, "you've made your point, you can stop now."

"I think you mean I've just reiterated your point, but that's alright." A warm hand pats his shoulder. "You're doing great, Logan. You don't have to stress out about this right now. Thomas has earned a break and so have you, okay?"

"…I suppose there are a few things I've been waiting to do that could occupy my time."

"There you go!" Roman claps his hands and gets up, affectionately ruffling Logan's hair and dodging his attempts to swat him. "Let me know how it goes, I'd love to hear about whatever you're working on."

Logan aims another swat at his shoulder and misses, watching Roman sink out. He shakes his head, unable to keep the growing smile off his face as he thinks about his own projects. Yes, there are several things he could do, he could work on refining the data for the experiment, he could read that study he's been eyeing for a few days, he could look over the manuscript he's drafting…

It isn't until he gets back to his room with a different notebook open on his desk that he pauses.

Why had Roman been upset at the suggestion of transformation?

They had agreed upon resting and doing what they wanted, letting Thomas do what he wanted. They had agreed that resting was good, pursuing one's own passions was good. What about transformations had rankled Roman so? He hadn't directly addressed it—something virtually unheard of for Roman. Perhaps it had been something to do with the act of transforming itself? But no, Roman had always been among the first to thrill at being someone else, or pretending to be someone else. What had caused such a dramatic shift?

What sorts of transformations had they done recently? There had been the whole thing with Remus—Logan suppresses a shudder as he remembers Remus's song and everything that happened in it—but Roman had been unconscious for most of it. Aside from that, it had been…

Well, Janus had been transforming into them more often than not, but that was him, mostly, not Roman. And Patton had become the giant frog, but that hadn't really affected Roman that much either. No, the last time Roman had been the one transforming, it had been…for…

Logan stands up, eyes still fixed on a point in the distance as his mind races.

Roman hadn't transformed for himself. It had always been at the whim of someone else. Roman was Hopes and Dreams—Thomas's Hopes and Dreams. Roman did things for Thomas. He was Thomas's wants. Despite how often they all called him selfish, he…he didn't really fight for the things that he wanted.

Could he name a single thing that Roman wanted that wasn't something for Thomas?

I think you and I both know the dangers of believing you can work all the time.

There's nothing that Thomas isn't that we need to make him into.

"Oh, Roman," he whispers into the quiet room, "when did you get so good at hiding?"

He doesn't want to know the answer, but his mind is already coming up with a helpful list of every time he can remember where Roman let himself get pushed to the side, overruled, scolded, overlooked, for the sake of someone else. He thinks about the times where Roman had been obviously uncomfortable with what they wanted him to do, and then did it anyway. He thinks about how long it's been since he's actually heard Roman say what he wanted, not what Thomas wanted, not what Patton or Janus or even he wanted.

How long has it been since someone wanted Roman for Roman?

He looks back down at his desk and pulls out a different notebook. He's underestimated Roman. He won't go into this upcoming conversation unprepared.

***

He knocks on Roman's door as softly as he can, waiting for the quiet come in to push it open. Roman looks up from his—

Oh.

Oh.

Oh, no.

"Oh, Roman," he murmurs before he can stop himself, crouching next to Roman's slumped figure and carding a hand through his hair, "I'm so sorry."

"N-no, I'm sorry, 'm sorry, I can—" he scrubs a hand harshly across his face— "it's fine. What, um, what do you—"

Another sob interrupts him before he can finish asking if Logan needs anything, which only makes his chest ache all the more. He eases himself down next to Roman's buckled legs and wraps a comforting arm around his shoulders, pulling him close enough to wipe a thumb across his cheek.

"Shh," he says when Roman tries to speak again, "don't stress yourself. I'm not here for anything other than this, little one."

The pet name rolls off his tongue before he can stop it, but at the slightly wounded noise that leaves Roman's lips, he resolves to use them as often as he can. He scratches his nails lightly against his scalp, shushing him again when he tries to stifle another sob.

"I'm here because I realized I'd hurt you earlier," he continues, still speaking gently, "and I did not attempt to comfort you in any way. No, no—don't pull away from me, dear. Shh, don't fret, don't fret, I'm not upset—look at me, Roman, do I look upset?"

Roman's eyes, still filled with tears, roam frantically over his face. Logan keeps his expression as soft and open as he can, letting the concern write itself plainly over the furrow in his brow. After another moment, Roman sniffles and he's already reaching for the tissue box he can see perched haphazardly on the end of the desk. He takes it with a grateful mumble and blows his nose with a honk.

"You were right. You don't need to change to be worth something, or to be fixed. You don't need to become something you're not—oh, darling, hush, now," he says when Roman's eyes grow wide with distress, "I'm not angry, I'm not—oh, you poor thing."

For Roman had begun to sob in earnest, trying in equal parts to pull away from Logan's embrace and push himself near into his chest. Logan slides an arm under his legs and pulls them into his lap, tucking Roman's face into the crook of his neck and kissing the crown of his head. There's a moment where Roman tenses and he fears he might pull away, but then he all but collapses into him and buries his nose in Logan's shirt.

"There you go, little one, shh, it's alright. You can cry, crying is good. You're alright, you're safe, I'm right here." He runs his hand up and down Roman's back. "Shh, shh, that's it…that's it, my dear."

"Sorry—'m so sorry—"

"Shh-shh-shh, no apologies from you, not about this. You're overwhelmed and overworked, it's perfectly alright for you to be emotional right now. You can let it out, I don't mind at all. In fact, I'm here to help."

"Help?"

"Mm. You took great pains to comfort me earlier, even when I did not ask, and you," and here he gives Roman a little shake, "have not let anyone comfort you in quite a long time. So yes, I am here to comfort you, to help, and if that means letting you cry in my lap for as long as you need, then that is what I shall do."

"It's so hard," comes the sniffling whisper from under his chin, "I keep—I keep trying to be what they want but they don't know what they want and then it's my fault and I can't—they keep changing and wanting me to change and I can't—"

"Shh, shh…hush, my dear, it's alright. That's right, just let me hold you…"

They spend a great deal of time like that, curled up on the floor. Logan keeps carding his hand through Roman's hair, soothing away the more violent of sobs with gentle touches up and down his back or patting his chest. How long has Roman been holding this in? How long has it been since their prince has let himself fall apart without remorse? And how long has it been since they took pains enough to notice?

He pulls himself from his own thoughts when Roman's head turns, bumping slightly against his chin. He tilts his head to press a kiss to his temple, leaning back just enough to see the blotchy face come into view. Taking another tissue, he carefully dabs up the last of the tears he can see, holding it so Roman can blow his nose again.

"…thanks, Logan."

"Of course, my dear." He raises an eyebrow at the little shudder that goes through him. "No?"

"N-no, yes. Yes. Very much yes. Sorry."

"None of that now, my dear. Do you feel any better?"

"A little bit."

"That's excellent. Shall we sit here for a little longer, or do you want to move somewhere a little more comfortable?"

"C-can we just stay here for a little longer?"

"Of course we can." He runs his thumb over Roman's cheek again. "I am truly sorry it took me so long to figure out what was going on, little one. But I'm here now."

Roman averts his gaze and once again Logan is struck by how different Roman is right now; no longer does he see their fiery prince who so eloquently made him take his own advice mere hours ago, instead he sees a shell of a Side who shies away from a gentle touch like a dog too scared to eat. The comparison alone is enough to coax him to lean forward and kiss his cheek, cuddling him against his chest.

"I'm here now," he repeats, "let me look after you."

"You will?"

"Yes, Roman, I will. I'm right here—" he pulls him a little closer— "I've got you, little one, you're alright."

"I don't know what to do."

"Right now?"

"…anymore."

Logan's heart clenches in his chest and he forces the ache away, running his thumb over his cheek once more. "Well, what do you want to do right now?"

"I want to stay here."

"Then we shall stay here. And when you're ready to figure out what you want to do next," he says, adjusting them until they're both comfortable as can be, "I will be here to help."

General Taglist: @frxgprince@potereregina@gattonero17@iamhereforthegayshit@thefingergunsgirl@awkwardandanxiousfander@creative-lampd-liberties@djpurple3@winterswrandomness@sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes@iminyourfandom@bullet-tothefeels@full-of-roman-angst-trash  @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind@demoniccheese83@pattonsandershugs@el-does-photography@princeanxious@firefinch-ember@fandomssaremysoul@im-an-anxious-wreck@crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch@enby-ralsei@unicornssunflowersandstuff@wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv  @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams@averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws@cecil-but-gayer@i-am-overly-complicated@annytheseal@alias290@tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance@whyiask@crows-ace @emilythezeldafan@frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires@cyanide-violence@oonagh2@xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx@rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734@triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo@cerulean-watermelon@puffed-up-bees@meltheromanstan@joyrose-fandomer@insanitori@mavenmush@justablah65@10paradox10@uhhh-hi-there-i-am-nervous@cutebisexualmess@bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti@ultrageekygirl@raven1508

[yournowheregirl]

remember when i said this was gonna be 5 parts? psych! it’s gonna be six parts of the secret-dolly-parton-fan eddie munson saga (thanks again for all the love on this fic & a special thanks to @gothbat99 and @legitcookie for listening to my rambling about this part 🥰)

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 5] [part 6 + complete on ao3]

part 4: i will always love you

Eddie never thought himself to be an overthinker. 

In fact, during the majority of his life a lot of people assumed he didn't think at all considering the way he flunked senior year twice (He got there in the end, though). But lately - well, actually ever since Pat swore up and down Steve isn’t as straight as Eddie originally thought - Eddie’s brain has been running at a hundred miles an hour.

More specifically, Pat’s words have been echoing through his mind, haunting him, torturing him, every time he hangs out with Steve.

“Hey man, that shirt looks really great on you.” Steve says one day when Eddie shows up at Family Video wearing a red henley. It’s an old shirt he found earlier that week when Wayne forced him to clean out his closet, a little tight but it still fit so Eddie decided to keep it.

“What, this old thing?” Eddie scoffs, playing with the frayed hem of the shirt.

“Yeah, it’s… it suits you. Looks nice.” Steve smiles. 

“Thanks.” Eddie replies. His smile is tight, in the hopes that he doesn’t give away the swarm of butterflies currently residing in his stomach.

But are ya sure that boy’s straight?

“Wait, what’s happening again?” Steve asks one night during Will’s latest Hellfire campaign. 

It’s the first time in literal years that Eddie’s been playing a character instead of DM’ing and so far, he’s been very impressed with Will replacing him. Though his story lines can be a little too detailed at times, which makes it hard for Steve - who hasn’t been there during every D&D night - to keep up. 

So, Eddie explains it to him. He’s patient, keeping his voice low so the others won’t overhear and carefully watches Steve connect the dots. Watches how that cute little frown in between his eyebrows slowly fades away and is replaced with a soft smile. 

“Which brings us here, to the Rotting Grove and now we gotta wait until Dustin’s character makes a decision.” Eddie says finally, but Steve stays quiet. He’s still looking at Eddie, eyes wide with wonder, maybe he still doesn’t understand the plot just yet. “Sorry, did I go too fast? You want me to start again?”

“No, no, I got it.” Steve shakes his head, smiling. “Thanks for explaining it, though. You’re a great story teller, Eddie.” He says, bumping their shoulders together but never pulling away.

Steve stays glued to Eddie’s side throughout the rest of the night, whispering the occasional question or snarky comment in his ear, sending a chill down Eddie’s spine every time he feels Steve’s lips brush against his skin.

But are ya sure that boy’s straight?

“You really gotta be more careful.” Steve says sternly one afternoon, after Eddie has fallen face-first onto the ground during one of Max’ skateboarding lessons, leaving him with a nasty graze on his cheek. 

“I was being- fucking Christ, Steve.” Eddie hisses as Steve dabs a washcloth against Eddie’s bloodied cheek. “Will you stop that? That hurts like hell.”

Steve ignores his protests, rolling his eyes. “An infection hurts even more, so just stay still, will you?”

His hand, big and warm, finds Eddie’s hip, holding him still against the bathroom counter, as Eddie tries to think of literally anything that’ll stop his blood from going south because this not the place or time to pop a boner right now. Which somehow results in him being particularly mopey to Steve.

“I can take care of myself y’know? Been doin’ it all my life.” He grunts when Steve slowly removes the washcloth. 

“I know you can.” Steve replies softly. “But sometimes it’s nice to have someone taking care of you for a change.”

He runs his thumb over Eddie’s cheek, wiping away the last of the blood before placing his his hand on Eddie’s jaw, turning his face to see if there are any wounds to be taken care of. When Steve nods, obviously proud of his work, Eddie almost wants to go out there and trip another time, just to feel Steve’s hands on his skin again. 

“Besides, you need someone around here who actually knows first aid. God forbid something happens to that pretty face of yours.” Steve smirks, before patting Eddie’s chest and walking out of the bathroom, leaving Eddie speechless for the first time in his life.

But are ya sure that boy’s straight?

Pat’s words keep getting louder and louder in his mind to the point that it’s the only thing Eddie can think about. He overanalyzes every single one of Steve’s movements, every word that rolls off his tongue, every glance sent his way, to the point that he swears he’s going insane.

Because the more he starts thinking about it, the more Pat might actually be right and isn’t that the most terrifying thing in the wold?

-xxx-

“Dude, will you stop that?”

Eddie looks up from where he was mindlessly staring out the window and glares at Dustin, who glares right back at him. “What?”

“Your leg.” Dustin pokes him in said leg, the one that’s been bouncing uncontrollably for the past few minutes. “It’s fucking annoying.”

Dustin’s been at the Munson trailer since early afternoon, figuring out the perfect songs to  put on the mixtape he’s mailing Suzie for their anniversary. Eddie had felt honored that Dustin came to him, rather than the so-called leading expert on romance (Steve) but now his patience is wearing thin. 

Don’t get him wrong, he loves the squirt with all his heart, but Dustin’s been contemplating between two very similar songs for thirty minutes now and his indecisiveness is starting to get on Eddie’s nerves.

“Maybe if you hurried the fuck up, my leg wouldn’t be shakin’ Henderson.” Eddie retorts. “C’mon, hurry up, will ya? I got places to go, people to meet.”

Dustin snorts. “Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

“You know, going out to the woods to deal doesn’t exactly count as Friday evening plans.” Dustin says.

“Hey!” Eddie protests. “You know I don’t do that shit anymore, not with those shady government assholes watching my every move.” He sighs, fiddling with the rings on his fingers. “But if you must know, me and Steve are having a movie night at his place and you know how huffy he gets when I’m late.”

That’s not entirely true. Sure, Eddie’s going over to the Harrington house tonight and sure they’re gonna watch a movie, but it’s also the night that Eddie decided to finally make a move on Steve. And maybe, if everything goes right, tonight will be the night that he finds the guts to Steve how he feels.

Which is why Dustin needs to get a move on because he really needs those extra few hours to contemplate his existence, have a panic attack, talk himself down from said panic attack and figure out what he’s going to wear.

“Okay, now I know you’re lying.” Dustin says, looking anything but impressed with Eddie.

“What? I ain’t lying, Henderson.” Eddie frowns. He grabs the VHS tape from the coffee table and waves it in Dustin’s face. “See, I got the movie and everything.”

“Yeah, well, you must have gotten the days mixed up.” Dustin shrugs. “Steve’s got a date tonight.”

“Yeah, right.” Eddie says, rolling his eyes at Dustin and ignoring the way his heart is starting to beat a little faster out of sheer panic. “Steve hasn’t been on a date since he broke up with Emily. And even if he has a date, I doubt he would’ve planned it at the same time as our movie night.”

“Well sorry to burst your bubble, but I know for a fact that Steve’s got a date tonight because he told me.” Dustin’s tone is bordering on condescending but Eddie doesn’t even have energy to tell him off right now because what the fuck? What does Dustin mean by that? And maybe more importantly, why did Steve leave Eddie in the dark about all this?

A heavy feeling settles down in his stomach, but he can’t let Dustin see his inner turmoil so he goes with indifference instead. “Pff, sure he did.”

“I saw him buy roses, Eddie! They were red too and that’s like, a dead giveaway for romance!” Dustin declares. “And when I talked to him about it he got this… weird, mushy look in his eye, which by the way gross, and said something about making tonight special and shit. Which again, gross, but if that doesn’t scream romantic evening to me, then I don’t know what is!”

Slowly, as Dustin’s words are starting to sink in, the heavy feeling grows stronger and stronger until Eddie feels his stomach drop.

Steve’s going on a date. 

Steve’s going on a date and just ditches Eddie without saying a word.

Steve’s going on a date with someone who isn’t Eddie.

Steve’s going on a date which means Pat was wrong.

“Get out.” Eddie says, voice on edge.

“Geez, didn’t know you’d get so upset. It’s just a cancelled movie night, I’m sure Steve-”

“Out!” Eddie exclaims, his tone way harsher than it needs to be. It obviously affects Dustin, who flinches at his words, but Eddie doesn’t care. Well, he does but he’ll apologize to Dustin later, once he starts to feel normal about all of this. 

Dustin quietly packs his stuff, mumbling something under his breath as Eddie just stands there, frozen. Eyes glued to the coffee stain on the carpet, mind reeling with thoughts of Steve ditching him for some date he didn’t even tell him about. 

He hears Dustin say a quiet goodbye but he stays there for a good few minutes before he finally snaps out of his trance and grabs the keys to the van from the kitchen counter. He doesn’t even see the dark clouds forming in the sky, he just gets in the van and drives. 

-xxx-

Rain is still pouring down when Eddie arrives at the Off-Road. Not that he really cares about the weather right now, he’s got other things on his mind. He pulls his leather jacket over his head and jogs over to the entrance, only to find the door closed and the lights off.

Great. Like his day couldn’t get any worse.

Eddie slumps down on the porch in front of the bar, not caring that he’s sitting on wet wood or that the wind is blowing the raindrops right in his face. The rain is actually pretty nice right now, hiding the tears that are slowly rolling down his cheek.

Crying over Steve motherfuckin’ Harrington. That’s a new low, even for him.

And the thing is, any other time Eddie could’ve dealt with Steve getting another date. Yeah, it’d probably hurt like a bitch and Eddie would’ve been sulking for a day or two, but he would’ve been fine. It would’ve been just another Emily situation, just another reminder that Steve would never been his.

But Steve keeping him in the dark about his date, Steve just flat-out cancelling their movie night without even telling him, after weeks of, let’s be honest, low-key flirting? That somehow hurts even more. It just feels like Steve doesn’t really care about him, like Steve’s using him like a fucking Kleenex - use once, then throw away when it’s no longer useful.

The thoughts in his head are so loud, so overwhelming, that he doesn’t even hear a pick-up truck stopping a few steps from him. Doesn’t hear the hushed voices or the wet sounds of footsteps through the mud.

“Ed? Whatcha doin’ here kid?”

Eddie looks up from where he had been staring at his feet, only to find Pat and Tish standing in front of him, huddled together underneath an umbrella. The worried looks on both their faces makes Eddie just cry even harder.

“Oh honey.” Tish says softly. “Let’s get you inside, okay?”

Pat and Tish lead him inside and up the stairs that lead to the apartment above the bar. It’s small, but cozy and feels like a home, with little trinkets and old photos scattered just about everywhere. Pat firmly plants Eddie down at the kitchen table and hands him a couple of towels as his tears slowly start to fade. He hadn’t even realized how cold he was until Pat throws a woolen blanket over his shoulders and Tish puts down a pot of hot chamomile tea.

“So…” Pat says as she sits down across from him at the kitchen table. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” Eddie sniffs, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. “It’s stupid.”

“We’ll be the judge of that.” Pat says sternly, though her eyes are soft. “Now tell us what happened.”

And Eddie just spills everything. How Pat’s advice has been haunting him, how he’s been overanalyzing every of Steve’s moves, how he was so sure that Steve liked him back, only to be tossed aside without a care. He tears up again a few times and it’s so embarrassing he wants to be buried alive, even with Pat and Tish just listening and telling him it’s okay.

Once he’s done, he just feels empty - no more tears to cry, no more words to say, just an empty, hollow feeling where his heart used to be. 

“Eddie, I’m so sorry, honey.” Tish sighs as she pours him another cup of tea. He’s not usually a tea drinker but he’s had two cups already - he swears Tish put some kind of crack in it, rather than sugar cubes. “For what it’s worth, he doesn’t deserve you. Not if he treats like you like, pardon my French, dogshit.”

Hearing Tish swear, while she’s generally so prim and proper, makes Eddie laugh, even through his dried-up tears. “Thanks, Tish.” He sighs, slouches down in his chair and looks up at the wooden ceiling. “But I guess this was good, in some twisted, fucked up way. Just the slap in the face I needed.”

“What’d you mean?” Pat frowns.

“It’s just… I been running after him like some lovesick puppy even though I know he’ll never feel the same.” Eddie says. “And it’s not doing me any good, now is it? Guess this is a sign that it’s time for me to move on.”

He knows he said that before, back when Steve started dating Emily, and even though it clearly didn’t work out the way he wanted to, Eddie has to make it work now. He has to say goodbye to Steve because he’s not so sure his poor heart’ll survive if he doesn’t.

And he knows exactly how he’s going to do just that.

Eddie jumps up from the table and races downstairs, ignoring Pat and Tish’s confused noises as they follow him. He fumbles with the lights for a moment but as soon as the lights are partially on, Eddie walks up to the podium, grabs the guitar off the wall and sits down on the stool that has become so familiar to him.

The bar is silent because of course it is and for a second Eddie just wants to laugh at how weird this whole situation - singing in a bar just to process his dumb feelings, even with no audience around (well, there’s an audience if you count Pat, Tish and the wind howling outside). But he has to do this, needs to do this, audience be damned. 

His hands are shaking, hesitating to play the first few chords. It’s not like he doesn’t know the song, in fact he knows it by heart and played it plenty of times, But he never actually sang the words, too scared what’ll mean if he’ll say them out loud. 

“If I, should stay… I would only be in your way. So, I’ll go but I’ll know, I’ll think of you each step of the way.” Eddie sing softly, voice already wavering because he was right for not singing this song before - it fucking hurts. “And I… will always love you.”

Eddie’s voice echoes through the empty bar, causing to sound more hollow than it already is. A shiver runs up his spine when he feels a cool breeze of wind - the wind must’ve flung the door open. Eddie doesn’t look up, closes his eyes instead and lets the music take him.

“Bittersweet memories, that’s all I’m taking with me.” He hears Pat and Tish whispering to another, can’t really see them from where they’re standing in the dark but their hushed voices sound tense. Not that Eddie’s really listening, it’s all background noise as he continues strumming his guitar. 

“Goodbye, please don’t cry. We both know…” Eddie chokes on his on voice, the words hitting a little too close to home. He takes a deep breath and tries again, refusing to shed anymore tears. “We both know that I’m not what you need.”

“Eddie?”

Someone’s calling out his name. A familiar voice. A way too familiar voice. 

Steve’s voice.

But that can’t be. Steve’s doesn’t knows he’s here. Steve’s too busy wooing his goddamn date with those goddamn roses.

It’s just in his head. It’s just his mind playing tricks on him. He just needs to finish this song and then this fake Steve will disappear and-

“And I… will always love you. I will always-” 

“Eddie, please.”

Eddie stops playing as a shadow washes over him, a figure blocking the spotlight. He squints, trying to identify whether it’s Pat or Tish who interrupted him, only to find that it’s neither of them

Because there, with floppy wet hair plastered to his face and a thoroughly soaked pink button-down and blue jeans, stands the one person Eddie had run away from in the first place.

Steve.

tag list (there are so many of you now omg ily):

@cheatghost @henderdads @unclewaynemunson @goblin-eddie @trikigirl271 @alienace @fandomcartographer @stevethehairington @blank1eboi @this-earlobe-is-naked @fruitandbubbles @courtjestermunson @steveisabicon @stereoteleversion @wrenisflying @spectrum-spectre @hotluncheddie @punkharringtxn @remislupinsthevoiceofgod @panicatthediaz @thegingervulcan @sharkruption @goodolefashionedloverboi @thelastwalkingsoul @undreamingscatworld @starrystevie @magipemuseum @mightbeasleep @corrodedcoughin @linkydinky06 @hardboiledeggs @gamerdano @limpingpenguin @blackpanzy @piningapple @teelagurl558 @theokatz @moonlightmirrorball @milf-harrington @raisedbylibrarians @eddiemunsonswife @catateme9 @stranger-poets-society

[menlove]

any McLennon fic recs ?

CRACKS FINGERS

immediate rec is your lucky break by @forthlin bc millies writing makes me throw up and scream and cry and this is the fic that got us talking so!! also, young paul and dilf john and I eat it UP. also literally any of their fics are so so good. the latest one is our fic together so I won't rec it but... their writing in the john pov they wrote is soooo good so. I'll rec their half!

✨ = all time fave

just pulling from my bookmarks.......

grow old with me

Paul breaks his arm, and John panics

explicit. fix-it.

and when the broken bodies are washed to shore (who am I to ask for more)

“Jesus, took you long enough,” John says, adjusting the duffle over his shoulder. “Thought I might be out here til morning at this rate.”

For a second he wonders if he’s drunker than he thought, but no. As far as he can tell, it is still 1980, and he hasn’t seen or so much as spoken to John in ten years

mature. fix-it.

John My Beloved ✨

They've always loved each other, in their own way...

explicit. major character death. literally fucking killed me I sat there at 7am after staying up all night and teared up. I cry like. once a year.

i was a younger man then (now) (post hoc) ✨

John’s twelve when a bloke appears from a flaming pie and says, “From this day forward you are Beatles with an ‘a.’” The bloke is Paul.

Or: paul and john meet at all ages and eras and john is the time-traveler’s wife the way only john lennon can be

mature. fix-it. time traveler's wife au that lives forever in my mind rent free.

Stop all the clocks (by @javelinbk)

‘1967. After Brian dies, Paul decides not to go ahead with MMT, and takes John up to Scotland for a month instead.’

mature

Like Love, The Archers Are Blind

He wants to push Stuart out of the way, not even with a violent yank of his collar like he sometimes imagines. Just to melt into his place like butter sliding in a pan. Have it be an effortless breath of fresh air when John looks up at him and sees it all reflected back in his eyes. It’s you.

Hamburg, 1960

explicit

Boy, You've Been A Naughty Girl ✨

John makes Paul a bet. Paul takes him up on it. Crossdressing shenanigans and angst ensue, and ~feelings come out in the wash. 1961.

OR: boys in knickers, lots and lots (and lots) of sex, angst, homophobic slurs, schmoop. The Pineapple Club is fictitious. Originally posted on LJ in 2012

explicit. what can I say but whshwjjajjakak

I Still Miss Someone (series)

It's 1976 and Paul keeps showing up on John's doorstep with a guitar. Eventually John turns him away and Paul goes off to sulk in his hotel room the night before his flight from New York. Based on real events

explicit. not a fix-it.... real to me though

christmas lights (keep shinin' on)

"I'd have you," Paul said, eventually, and John felt the air being knocked out of him. "If it was different. If we were different."

mature.

two of us (burning matches)

It won't stop raining. Paul doesn't know what his feelings are doing. John's practising his right swing. Somewhere along the way, they fuse together

explicit. honestly literally everything by obstinatrix is 💖💖💖

one and one and one is three ✨ by @pauls1967moustache

Even with how badly he wants this, John wouldn't want it if he didn't think it would make Paul feel good. That's the point. It can be good, the three of them. It can work, if Paul lets it.

explicit. failed yoko/john/paul. also literally everything this author writes...... shout outs: a great threat (female paul/yoko w delicious mclennon in the bg) baby it's all relative verse (don't talk to me. the one time I've ever Ever in my life read foot kink and it???? it works??? they'd do this. I don't want them to. but this is real. entered my "psyche of john lennon" file. )

PROBABLY MORE....... but these are the ones that I keep thinking about and ruminating on.

[beeehiives]

And They Were Roommates (´◡`)

Steve Harrington, who, after all the events with his friends dying and the Upside Down and the Russians and Vecna, finally decides he needs to get the hell out of Hawkins.

He wants to spread his wings, find a place where he can make a fresh start without the memories of this place hanging over his head.

Eddie Munson, who, despite his name being "cleared" by the government and the local police, has a shit reputation and a healthy hatred for small town malice.

He can't wait to get away, to a place where nobody knows his name and he can live without the constant threat on his life and psyche -- hopefully somewhere where he can find a community of people like himself.

One night while he's tired and a little hopeless, Steve offhandedly mentions his frustrations with finding enough money working at Family Video to move out of Indiana.

Eddie fully sits up. He's been saving up since he got his first stash to deal, and every time he makes a long weekend trip out to Indianapolis, he picks up a copy of the New York Times to thumb through the apartment listings.

"It was more like wishful thinking," Eddie says, eyes wild and full of promise. "Let's do it, Stevie. You and me."

Steve's been looking for the first chance possible, and with Eddie's charm, how could he refuse?

Robin prods at him, teasing that it'll be torture for Steve, who is definitely not developing a crush.

So, they stay for three more months, saving every penny possible and spending every minute they can with the kids, their friends and Wayne. They promise to call all the time, and Steve sternly tells Will that they expect to see him at NYU as soon as he graduates.

When the leaves green and the weather warms, Steve and Eddie pack all their shit into Eddie's van and leave at the break of dawn for New York City, everyone waving them off. Eddie's eyes get a little glassy, but Steve puts a warm hand on his shoulder and he's excited for the future all over again.

It's an eleven hour drive, but the two have grown so used to each other's presence that it flies by. They take turns driving, and whoever isn't driving gets to play the tapes they brought.

Eddie feigns disgust when Steve puts on Tears For Fears, but smiles to himself when Head Over Heels plays.

With the savings they have and the call they'd placed to the agent before leaving Hawkins, they sign a lease on a tiny apartment in uptown Manhattan.

They walk around, exploring the neighborhood and pointing out landmarks.

"We've got to eat breakfast there. Like, all the time. God, those pancakes smell great." (Eddie.)

"Does that convenience store have a cat in the window?" (Steve.)

They eat their takeout dinner on the floor of their new apartment, sitting closer than strictly necessary in the completely empty space. Their keys are between them, and they can't stop smiling.

The next day, they go out in search of jobs. Eddie finds work at a mechanic's shop in their neighborhood, Wayne having taught him his way around a car. He'll come home greasy and sweaty, but he'll also be coming home to Steve, so he couldn't really find it in himself to care.

Steve gets a job waiting tables at a diner in Hell's Kitchen, meaning he'll have to get up early, but that also means he gets to see Eddie's wild bedhead mane before he's taken a shower that morning, so he can manage.

They come back to each other at the end of their days, sharing the household chores and each other's time.

They miss the people back home, but they're also falling into the rhythm of a future they can't wait to see.

Part 2? ヽ(•‿•)��� You said getting together part 2?

As always, feel free to submit a fic request via my profile :3

[zmediaoutlet]

Re: Jess/Sam. I remember this great meta post that goes through Dean and Jess meeting in the pilot, and how Dean is really just assessing a threat and then asserting his dominance in his relationship to Sam. Immediately Jess serves as something "getting in the way" of Dean and his family/mission. Its really interesting to think about this in terms of fic where Sam gets married. I also wish something could have been played with more in the Djinn ep dealing with jealousy or expectations.

I think I vaguely remember the post you're talking about -- that Dean is initially just kinda jokey with Sam, and then when Jess comes into the room and interrupts he goes into ultra prickly defense mode. "Asserting dominance" always puts my 'why are we over-applying psych terms to nuanced fictional characters' hackles up, lol. But it's true that Dean does that ott aggro flirting (partly, I think, just to be rude to Sam, who has still very much hurt Dean's feelings and they haven't talked about that in any kind of substantive way), and pushes Jess away so that he and Sam can be oriented inside the circle of The Secret which she's outside of. She does get in the way and Dean needs to move forward and this is his instinctive move.

More interesting to me, though, is that it doesn't work, or not exactly. Sam takes the obvious insult and goes and stands next to The Other Woman, and tells Dean that, no, she is not outside the circle -- that she and I have formed our own circle, with you outside it. And Dean goes, oh, really? Well, let's test that -- and it's Sam who understands that oh shit wait this really is about The Secret, and it's Sam who tells Jess to leave.

idk about any 'dominance' being asserted, but it's endlessly wild to me that Sam continually says that he wants (or wants to want) this good 'normal' committed life away from all that stuff, but he's not actually committing to the relationship with The Other Woman. In the pilot at least, Dean isn't really representing himself as-Sam's-brother (not least because Sam has clearly indicated that he's not interested in Dean as his brother, given that they haven't talked in two years) -- he's the call to action, he's the wild weird horror of hunting itself, he's the Not-Normal -- and Sam turns toward it almost instantly! Of course he has a sense of duty toward the family and toward making sure innocents aren't hurt, even if he's been trying to smother it with a pillow for four years -- but Sam leaps at the hunt, he's good at it, he's running away from a car with Dean and literally making a leap of faith off a bridge and lying to cops and driving cars through walls and having the best time ever. He goes back to the apartment because he's committed to the life he's told himself he should have, but he'd being lying to himself (and viewers would be lying to themselves, too) if that whole adventure were interpreted as some horrible thing Sam had to do. He had fun. He is a hunter. (And it honestly doesn't matter why -- whether he's naturally attracted to danger, whether it was all nurture, if you want to be one of those tedious familyhorror people and say he was stockholmed into it, whatever. This is who he is, and it's interesting to look at his behavior on that level.)

So like -- if Sam actually stayed? If he and Jess actually got married? Oof. That door got opened and it would never stay shut. I don't believe in taking deleted scenes as canon, but there is that deleted dialogue about how Sam looked up hunts when he was in college. And we see Mary doing the exact same thing, when Dean was a baby and she was ostensibly "out" of hunting. It's entirely believable that he'd not be able to fully stay out -- and, in the sense that hunting itself is represented by Dean, that he would also 'cheat' on Jess with his brother -- or want to, which is as close to the same thing as would make no difference.

You know, that line Constance has in the pilot? Sam says, I've never been unfaithful, and she says, you will be. Eager wincesties want to take that as a direct brofuckin' meaning, but that's an overreading, and honestly you don't need to take it that far to make it meaningful. Sam made a commitment, if not out loud then at least internally, that he was going to stay away -- at Stanford, in normalcy, with Jessica. I guess, in a terrible way, he's lucky that fate & circumstance tore him away from that life and forced him into infidelity, before he had the chance to be unfaithful of his own volition. It was coming. One way or another.

[gabessquishytum]

Even more retired Dream nonsense (now with mpreg!)

I have this not-exactly-a-headcanon that after getting out of the fishbowl, Dream started altering his physical form just a bit. He was naked with his junk out on display for more than a hundred years, and now having a penis at all makes him feel more vulnerable than he's comfortable with. So he's started to equip himself with a vulva instead, and he feels more comfortable and confident that way. He can keep his clothes on now, and it's kind of a relief that nobody knows what he looks like underneath them.

When he and Hob get together he has a little bit of an internal crisis about this--he still presents as male, so Hob will be expecting a penis, right? And he might be weirded out if Dream doesn't have one? (Of course Hob doesn't mind either way, but Dream doesn't know that) So for their first time he reverts back to his old form, but he can't seem to relax and enjoy himself. Hob doesn't push, but he wonders if he's doing something wrong and it breaks his heart to think he's doing something to make Dream uncomfortable. Lots of miscommunication and misunderstandings (as usual for these boys), but eventually Dream manages to explain that he would be more comfortable with different genitalia.

This is a revelation for Hob--he didn't even know that was an option, but all he can think is "holy shit that is SO FUCKING HOT!!!" He's obsessed with Dream's pussy, and while Hob certainly knows his way around a penis, let's be real--this is the 600 year reigning Pussy Eating Champion we're talking about! He loves to worship between Dream's legs and they are both enjoying this particular form immensely. Eventually Dream even feels safe and comfortable enough with Hob that sometimes he will manifest a penis again because sometimes (often, a lot) Hob wants to bottom.

This is all working out great and their sex life is amazing, but then the Kindly Ones happens. Dream knows what's coming, so he has a chance to either prepare for his retirement or prepare for his death (Hob is not at all on board with that, but he can't do anything about it and he's freaking out thinking he's going to lose Dream (spoiler alert: he's not going to lose him. Life, uh, finds a way)). There's a couple ways this could go:

Option A: Dream has accepted that he's going to have to die and he faces the Kindly Ones, but unbeknownst to him he's pregnant. The Fates know it, though, and decide to spare him because they are the archetypal Mother and they're not just going to kill a pregnant person. They do, however, strip him of his power, leaving him as a mortal human (of course Death will grant him immortality, though, no question). So he returns to Hob, who is grieving the loss of his beloved, and he's like, "great news! Not only am I alive, but we're having a baby!" And Hob is just shocked and overjoyed and immediately starts kissing Dream all over, especially his belly. They have the baby, who also gets to be immortal (thanks again, auntie Death!) and they live happily ever after.

Option B: instead of preparing to die, Dream makes plans to retire, as seen in some fics. Hob has lots of questions about how this is going to work, like "if you're going to be human you won't be able to change genitals at will anymore. Which set are you going to choose?" He's secretly hoping Dream will choose to keep the vulva, but he would never push and ultimately he would be more than happy either way. Dream tells him he does, in fact, plan to go with the vulva, so he's psyched for that. But then he's like, "wait, what about periods? Are you going to be able to handle bleeding every month for the rest of eternity?" And Dream is like, "Hob Gadling, do you truly believe me incapable of surviving such a minor inconvenience?" Hob is like, "That's not what I meant, and it's not necessarily a 'minor inconvenience,' but ok. Wait! But what if I knock you up??" And Dream says, "I am very much hoping that you will." Breeding kink unlocked! They are both very horny about this, and after having lots of crazy unprotected sex Hob is like, "well, glad that's sorted. But we'll have to get you a strap-on. You're not getting out of topping that easily!"

(Sorry this turned into a whole outline for a fic...I just really like retired Dream and morphussy. And strap-ons.)

-🍓

Retired Morphussy is such a concept tbh!!! I also love what you said about Dream choosing not to have a penis after the fishbowl. Making a small change to his physical form actually helps a lot with his fear of being naked.

I also have such a soft spot for Dream either accidentally or on purpose getting pregnant when he's retired. Maybe everything is so complicated and crazy for a bit, neither he or Hob really think about safe sex. They're just trying to cope with Dream being a human and teaching him how to pee and stuff.

He's been human and living with Hob for about a year and really starting to adjust properly. And he's sitting with Hob one day and looking pleased but also puzzled. "I am not complaining, but it seems an awful lot of time since I last had a period." He says. And together they carefully count backwards to the last time Dream menstruated...... 10 weeks. 10 weeks!!!

He hasn't really had symptoms, though! A little weight gain, a bit of nausea, mood swings. All that stuff is quite normal for Dream though. Hob quickly nips down to the chemist to get some tests, but Dream keeps telling him - he's not pregnant. He'd KNOW if he was pregnant. Right?

He's pregnant.

And Hob starts talking about how they have options, it's all going to be ok, and then he notices that Dream is SMILING and he looks so, so happy. He's absolutely thrilled. Hob carries him to bed and practically wraps him in cotton wool, he already knows that he won't be letting Dream lift a finger for the next six months. And Dream is perfectly ok with that, but he's NOT going to give up on pegging Hob just because he's pregnant. Hob might have to put the strap on for him when he can't quite see around his belly, but they'll definitely make it work. Let's be real, Hob is going to have a horny breakdown when he gets fucked by his pregnant boyfriend <333

[a-risk-to-take]

….you posted your tattoo (sick) and linked to house of dirk and i read it all and its unfinished. if you hadn’t posted i may have lived my life without getting fanfic blue balled for the first time since 2015. if you have any sympathy for my loss you would give me fanfic recs >:[ /lh

I feel your pain believe me 😭😭 I’m sorry I didn’t warn you at least. I’m low-key hoping the tattoo image gets to imarriedacherub and inspires them to continue the story - obviously not likely but it’s nice to dream!

I got recs for you though! I’ve got hundreds of bookmarks on my ao3 but here’s the HS stuff I love the most:

The epics:

Dayvhe’s Broken Diamond Club and everything by @unda-dsk: DBDC is my personal fave of theirs, and the best treatment of troll culture in any fic ever. If you know HS fic you are probably aware of MC Escher That’s My Favorite MC, and that one is absolutely excellent and completely deserves its status as one of the very best. And then there’s Alternate Universe, which is a perfect and beautiful magic school story. All of these are absolutely top-tier - I cannot stress this enough. They are epic and very long but some of the best stuff I’ve ever read—fanfic or otherwise—and they changed me when I read them. Despite the length, DBDC is very episodic so you can read each chapter as its own story and easily take breaks in between them without losing the flow, so you might want to start there. I promise it’s worth it!!

so we don’t kill the ones we love by @callmearcturus: I’ve never read anyone who can create an atmosphere like Arc can - this one is kind of a John Wick AU but in a really refreshing and elevated way. The characterization is so on point. Lots more I could rave about but I’ll just add that Arc’s Karkats are the hottest and most based out there. Again all his stuff is really good - this one is my favorite, but don’t miss this really cool magic artisan AU also.

The meteorstucks:

Aahhh there’s no way this is gonna be complete because I’ve read like hundreds and I get them confused but these are some that stand out. In case you haven’t notice already this list is gonna be very davekat centric!

Keep It Down by sburbanite - chef’s kiss concept and execution just read it

A Xenological Exploration of Music and Language by superbloom - super fun and well written with neat headcanon - and turned me on to some great music

I’m actually gonna just declare this section unfinished for now - I need to revisit these and remind myself what’s what - stay tuned!

Illustrated

Since you liked HoD you might be looking for more comic-y stuff with art. Definitely check out @chthonicarcher’s amazing davekats! Such as That’s All We Are

Dream a Little Dream of Me by koroke - this is just a little dream bubble comic but it’s simply the loveliest and I’m massively envious of the art style

Gonna Need Some Windex by the End of the Year by magniloquentChanteuse - more artistic storytelling just neat!

More

It’s About Time by @laurasauras - this is a sweet cute lovely little time travel davekat that I actually sent to a friend to read who knew nothing about HS and successfully led them into the fandom. (Followed by AU by Unda). Laurasauras is prolific and there are so many great fics written by them I can’t list them all here but they are one of my absolute favorite authors. Their understanding of the strider psyche is absolutely impeccable

The Worst Goddamn Movies Ever Fucking Made by writerbot - this fic brought me so much hilarity and joy I can’t even tell you. The Karkat voice is perfect and delightful and the social media interludes are so fucking funny and impressive. One of the first fics to show me how creative and funny this fandom can be.

I’m surely going to add to this - there are so many more meteorstucks and other authors I know I’ll think of after I post this - but I don’t want to spend too much longer on this now when you could be reading some of this great stuff! ENJOY!!

[kittenwalker]

omg u should do a frankenkyle fic where the reader is comforting him during a thunderstorm at night :(

notes : a very sweet and fluffy oneshot with the cuteness overload kyle spencer. Also sorry for the unnecessary long intro 😭 Hope you have a lovely day and remember you always matter. Enjoyyy :)

Y/n was the fifth and newest addition in this academy, competing to be supreme. She got sent here a month ago so, it was true that the other four girls had more advantages than her. But just because she was here later than the others doesn’t mean she is weak. Y/n is just as powerful or even more powerful than some of the girls. She already knew what she was capable of when she was 17 which was two years ago, before she even got here. Y/n just didn’t want to tell anyone because she thought she would get judged about or bullied for. She had no one to talk to about this matter and understand her struggle. So she just taught herself how to manipulate and control her own powers. Along the way she of course got more powerful and stronger but that’s how she got caught being a witch, she was too careless.

Y/n was so angry at her mother that she accidentally lit her curtains on fire. The incident shocked both of them and her mother immediately sent her away. Y/n was devastated to move away, she thought she was going to some psych wards or juvenile but she ended up here. Y/n was quite nervous when she arrived but she warmed up with all the witches and now she’s happier here than where she was 2 years ago. She found her people, where it was normal to use her magic. 

It wasn’t just the four witches she warmed up too, there was Kyle too. The sweet butler that worked around in the coven. The boy who also always got bossed around, cleaning up other people’s mess, serving them and other terrible things. As much as Y/n loved Madison she was way too cruel to Kyle. So she decided to help him out a little, like playing some games with him and keeping him company. Though he also had this stuttering problem which Y/n soon found out why as he opened up with her. God did it hurt Y/n when hearing about his past, his mother, his death and new life. Everything was terrible in his life but he still had such a big dream to become an engineer. 

Y/n tried making his life better by doing everything with him, being there for him. And it did work, Kyle smiled more and looked more cheerful. He just needed a person to accompany him and listen to him at all times. Y/n adored him and Kyle adored her, they are great for each other and they soon indeed became a thing.

-

Staying up late as always to study and strengthen her powers as the days were counting down to the 7 wonders test. Thankfully, she had the privilege of having her own room so she wouldn’t need to bother anyone.

 Y/n had to ace this assessment in order to be supreme, so she sacrificed every hour of her time to study and get better.  Even Cordelia is counting on her to be the next supreme and Y/n certainly didn’t want to let her down. 

It was about 1.36 am and there was a thunderstorm happening tonight. The wind was so strong that it sucked open her windows and the thunder roared very loud, but she always did enjoy the presence of rain. The smell of it and the comforting feeling it gives off, so she didn’t mind it at all.

But a little someone was the opposite, he was terrified of the rain. The booming of the thunder and the striking brightness of the lighting were all scary to Kyle. He could never sleep when it rains in the middle of the night. He always thinks some monster is going to come up and eat him alive so he puts a pillow over his head and huddles himself in blankets to hide whatever was coming for him. Hoping to sleep it off and forget about it, but tonight wasn’t the case. No matter how much he tossed and turned, he couldn’t fall asleep. So he had only one other solution.

-

Y/n stared and stared at the pages, trying to understand what the words meant. Her mind was so clouded with finding out the meaning she didn’t even notice that someone had entered her room. “ Y/n? ” A soft spoken Kyle called out, shaking up the distracted Y/n. “ Kyle, what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be sleeping? ” Kyle made a guilty face and pointed to her window, indicating the storm brewing bigger outside. Y/n quickly understood where he was coming from and shifted herself to the side of the window so he could have space to join her, not needing to be beside his fear as well. 

She patted the soft cushion and smiled at Kyle as he ran towards her. Tucking his feet into the mountain of blankets in her bed. He pulled the blanket up to his face and cuddled with it, digging his head into Y/n’s chest as he closed his eyes, whispering a thank you. “ You need the candles to be blown out? ” Kyle quickly opened his eyes and shook his head, making an angry pout. “ I know h-how important… t-this test is, y-you n-need to s-study. ” Such a sweet soul, potentially sacrificing his sleep so she could continue her revision. Y/n softly smiled and pecked his lips before going back to her spell book.

-

2.23 am, Y/n eyes were starting to droop and the words on the pages were starting to blur. She was about to fall asleep soon but had to jot down a few more notes. Gathering the last bits of her energy, she wrote down some helpful notes for her to not make the same mistakes. As tired as she was, her guard was never down and she felt a pair of eyes staring at her. Turning to her left, she caught a dazed out Kyle still awake, admiring her. “ Mr Spencer, why aren’t you asleep? It’s almost 3 am ” Y/n sternly whispered. Though getting caught, he didn’t stop looking, his eyes glistening with love as he gazed at every inch of her face. “ P-pretty ” He mumbled softly. 

Y/n’s eyes widened subtly, crimson red coating her cheeks. She could never get used to compliments or the fact that she is in a relationship. Never knew she was that kind to commit to one, being top is all that got her attention, not boys. 

Kyle kept on drooling all over her, studying the beauty of her face. Y/n on the other hand stared into his brown eyes as they trailed all over her face. The moment was beautiful, looking like it came out of a movie from a third person’s view. Their eyes filled with fondness and adoration for each other. God this is true love right here, just like the olden days, true old love that is rare these days. But like every romantic moment in movies, it gets interrupted. 

A huge blinding lighting shot through the sky, followed by a loud booming thunder. Kyle scurried under the blankets and pressed his head against her belly. Afraid of what’s out there trying to catch him and take him away. Poor Kyle was all shaken up, Y/n could hear how fast his breathing was and see how fast his chest was rising. To be completely honest, the loud thunder also kinda scared Y/n a bit. But she has to be the bigger person in the situation now, Kyle is more in need of comfort. 

“ Kyle it’s alright, it was just a little thunder. I’m here, no one is going to capture you because they’ll have to go through me to get to you and I’m very strong! ” Y/n assured him in a light-hearted tone. After hearing her promise, Kyle slowly lifted the blanket off of his head, peeking to see if there were any monsters. Y/n helped him to get out of the puddle of blankets and hugged him close. Y/n realised he was shaking and rocked him back and forth while she played with his hair. 

Y/n cupped Kyle’s face and frowned when she saw his unsettled expression. She used the pads of both her thumbs and swiped it over his cheeks, giving him a kiss on the tip of his nose. Kyle still didn’t seem fine so Y/n needed an idea. Her eyes wandered around to find something to lighten up his mood. 

A light bulb lit up in her head and she broke the embrace to grab something from under her bed. She had a collection of stuffed toys in a box and they were all so special to her, they were all her childhood toys and she kept them for nostalgia. They each had a meaning, a lion which represented bravery and loyalty. Y/n used to talk to the lion when she was upset, sharing all her problems with him. Then there was also a dinosaur, it’s job was to protect. When she was scared, she would cuddle up with her dino and it would wash away her fears. Lastly there was a cat, whenever Y/n was angry she would take her anger out on it. Punch it, shout at it everything, yea a little violent but it worked without hurting anyone.

Thinking she would share her little trio with Kyle, she picked out the dinosaur for him. Kyle looked at her, confused. Y/n handed him the cute dino and explained how it could help him and how he could use it. By the end of the explanation, Kyle had a sweet smile on his face, grinning cheekily at his new friend. 

“ So, what are you gonna name your new buddy? ” Y/n smiled while sweeping a piece of his hair out of the way, glad that her plan worked. “ Bo-b ” Y/n chuckled at his cuteness and checked the time, ‘ oh no it’s 3.46 am '. She looked back at Kyle who was still in a daze with his new gift, while he was distracted, she fluffed up her pillows and spreaded out all her messed up blankets. After everything was perfect, she pulled Kyle into her arms and adjusted their position so they were laying down now, ready to sleep. 

With a flick of her wrist, all the candles were blown out, leaving them in a room of darkness. The thunderstorm has also settled down into a drizzle, making it more relaxing than scary. “ Goodnight Kyle, also remember you’ll have to protect Bob from getting dirty as well alright? ” Y/n mumbled in a sleepy tone and felt his head nod in her neck, making her hum in response. Y/n made sure Kyle felt safe and pushed his head deeper into her neck as she cuddled him up. She kissed his mop of hair and whispered, “ I love you Kyle ” “ I lo-ove you Y/n ” Kyle replied back in a half-asleep tone. Falling asleep sweetly in each other's arms and comfort.