#also let me know if any of the tags go to the wrong fic cause i might have messed one up idk

[royjamierot]

hi! if it’s not much bother, i somewhat recently just started reading some royjamie fics, but i wanted to ask if you had any must-read fic recs, or even any authors you enjoy for the pairing? i don’t mind if they’re long or short, royjamie only or rjk as well

thanks for your time!

YESSS IT'S NOT A BOTHER AT ALL I LOVE GIVING FIC RECS!! i love this thank you this a great chance for me to freak out about my favorite fics. in no particular order, here! I'll do my best to write a brief description and also put the ratings

in the next one, will you find me by nebuloussubject

this is a mature fic where jamie wakes up to an alternate universe where roy is 22 and a new transfer to richmond. it talks a lot about roy's vulnerability and also jamie's as well and it makes me sooo emotional i love it so much

it’s (not) only make believe by screaming_crying_perfect_storm

mature fic and FAKE DATING AU!!! it's sooo good it's unfinished rn but every new update makes me so insane it's literally soo good. it has georgie and simon in it and mutual pining it's amazing. i highly recommend everything from this author.

trip of my life by floweredhalo

unrated but not explicit fic about roy accidentally doing mushrooms and jamie taking care of him. it's such a sweet fic it lives in my mind.

that's what i want (collection) by BelmotteTower and Scoatney Hall

this is royjamiekeeley! i was so engaged in this collection i read most of it in a day i highly recommend it. it's so sweet and i love the relationships between the three of them.

open hand or closed fist would be fine by Tallfroggie20

royjamie again. mature also. this one is about roy and jamie being touch starved and filling that void in each other and also growing since the season one finale. I couldn't put this one down. one of my fave oneshots.

Be Furious by Emmybazy

this is an explicit younger roy/older jamie fic because this idea makes me insane. i love roy character studies and fics that make him younger tend to do this veryyyy well i love this fic. jamie and roy wear sweaters in this one which i love imagining.

love, that loosener of limbs by literatus

this is explicit basically just royjamie sex in the woods and also references to jane austen. i love this one im so normal about it.

Hospital Ball (Jamie Tartt's Adventures in Matchmaking) by dannyPURO

explicit fic :) i love this one it's mostly royjamie and some royjamiekeeley but it's so funny and jamie in this always makes me laugh. jamie and roy sleep together a ton and jamie thinks it's because roy is sad over keeley and roy thinks they're dating. shenanigans ensue.

Two Things Can Be True by cheerfuldisdain

this is a teen royjamiekeeley fic where roy processes his feelings about the two of them and also goes to therapy! also not finished yet but it is sooo good.

a muppet, dying of the incurable condition of being a little bitch by PeonyPages161

rated teen royjamie fic where roy calls jamie drunk a bunch of times when he's sad and they grow from that!! it's so good i love the way it's developing. also unfinished so far.

and i think that's a good list of my favorites? i definitely recommend all of these i hope you enjoy! if you are looking for specific recommendations for a specific tag or general vibe id be happy to give those as well!

[irisintheafterglow]

Hey there!

Saw your requests were open (if it isnt,just ignore this)

But i just love your satoru x reader and co parenting megumi????and i would KILL to see like, something bad happening to reader (like a mission going wrong,she passing out or getting sick or all) and boys just panicking cause satoru loves reader,and megumi sees her as his mother???

Sorry,im a sucker for hurt/comfort trope

Lots of love!!! you're amazing!

aww this is so cute, thank you for the request anon <3 wrote it as sick fic instead of injury since i,,,, have written like 3 things with that trope recently so let's do a fluffy sick fic instead lol. hope you like it :))

cw/tags: established relationship (pet names babe, baby, sweetheart), gn!reader, some explicit language, mention of eating

"the kid thinks you're gonna die," your boyfriend says as he enters your room, setting a grocery bag on your desk and digging around for the bottle of orange juice. "you're starting to worry me too, honestly."

"i'm not gonna die, babe; i think it's just the flu," you groan, propping yourself on an elbow and attempting to sit up. you're unsuccessful, the throbbing in your head and the chills in your arms too overwhelming. you fall back against the pillow with a less-than-ceremonial thump. satoru crouches in front of you, eyebrows drawn and forehead wrinkled in concern. he pulls down his blindfold and you're met with the bright blue eyes you loved so much.

"yep. looks like you're dying soon," he declares with a curt nod and you scoff, a chuckle turning into an aggressive fit of coughing. satoru is lightning-quick, grabbing a new bottle of water and snapping off the cap before holding it up to your lips. "here, drink." you push his hands away, wordlessly insisting that you can drink on your own while still hacking relentlessly. "nuh-uh, just let me help you." with a frown, you let him tilt the bottle toward you and take a few careful sips. "you are frustratingly stubborn," he sighs.

"i have to be if i need to deal with you all the time," you joke hoarsely, sips of water becoming gulps.

"yeah, but you love me for it," he finishes and you agree with a shrug. "easy, there," he warns as you keep downing the water. "don't want you choking again."

"i'm fine, satoru."

"you've been working yourself too much, you know."

"hypocrite," you counter and he frowns, taking a seat on the edge of your bed. you were right, even though he didn't want to admit it. satoru was always the first one to say that someone was working too hard, just to take the burden for himself. it was a red flag, you said a few weeks ago over convenience store sushi; you also noted his 'concerningly inflated ego, lack of spatial awareness, and general disinterest in things that could be momentarily unpleasant.' you'd finished it, though, with a long-winded comment about how his red flags, in all their scarlet glory, made satoru himself. maybe it was just his melodrama, but he'd cut off his hand if it meant you were able to joke like that again.

"i'm serious. i think your body's shutting down because-"

"because i've been away too long, i know. i don't need a lecture right now, satoru." you swallow the last of the water and settle back onto your pillow, grumbling when you feel the side of your bed sink with your boyfriend's weight. "baby, you're gonna get sick, too."

"that means i get to take a day or two off," he points out, fitting his face into the divot between your shoulder and neck. despite your complaints, he throws off the comforter and replaces the blankets with his arms. "don't grrrr me, babe. you need to burn off your fever and i run warmer than any of these sheets."

"aren't i sweaty and stinky and yucky? how can you be touching me when i'm all gross?"

"you mean, how can i love on you right now when you're just being a human?"

"mhmm. you don't find it gross?"

"of course not, sweetheart," he reassures you with a kiss to your shoulder. "i'd be a real dickhead if i only loved you when you were feeling 100%."

"yeah, you're only half a dickhead for other reasons," you murmur into the pillowcase and he laughs, the sound reverberating against your back. before your eyes settle shut, you catch the door of your room opening and vaguely make out a messy head of black hair peeking around the corner. "megs?"

"oi, adults only," the other occupant of the bed threatens, pulling you closer and attempting to flip you to your other side to face him. you unbuckle satoru from around you, though, and manage to sit up. megumi pads carefully into the room, like you'd crumble into sand if his steps were too loud. "come in, i guess," your boyfriend says dramatically with a wave of his hand.

"satoru, i swear-"

"sorry, baby. shutting up." satoru flops back onto your bed and you reach out to megumi, who stares at your hand for a moment before rushing into your arms. "hey, megs. since you're here, you mind grabbing me a soda from the breakroom?"

"i thought you were shutting up, satoru," you remind him, voice poisonously sweet. he echoes your reminder in a mockingly high-pitched voice. "i'm gonna kick you out of my room if you don't stop, mister."

"you wouldn't dare," he gasps.

"oh, i would."

"yeah," he concedes. "you definitely would, but i love you for it." with satoru temporarily placated, you return your attention to the small child in your arms.

"you doing okay, megs?" he nods, eyes shut against your chest and holding you tight. "i'm not gonna die, buddy. i promise." you rub your hand up and down his back, combing your fingers through his hair when you're abruptly swung backward onto the bed. "jeez, satoru, what are you-"

"get the kid, it's nap time," he mumbles with finality, resecuring his body around yours and motioning for megumi to climb in. he does, and you drift off sandwiched between your boys, feeling a little lighter for the first time in days.

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[celestie0]

MASSIVE gojo x reader fanfic rec (no spoilers)

ok i know a lot of my followers are gojo girlies and i just need to put yall onto this fucking fanfiction because i just read the latest release for it and i’m genuinely tweaking rn🧍🏻‍♀️

@lostfracturess ‘s amazing work called “symptoms & causes” - a medical au

[image pulled from her masterlist]

let me just…let me just try to even gather the reasons why you need to add this to your tbr lists (weekend is comin up too so perfect time)

characterization of gojo satoru.

gojo in this fic is characterized so fucking well, from chapter one. there are so many distinctive ways miss lostfractures goes about building his aura (word of mouth/reputation, dialogue, expository, primary interactions, secondary interactions, etc.) it reminds me of the show where gojo just has this energy to him that you can't tear yourself away from i picture him in this fic to be unrelenting, unforgiving, morally grey, with an undertone of softness yet still feral through it all,, basically gojo during shibuya arc LOL. i looove reading cute silly boy gojo fics sm (he’s so baby) but THIS fic explores the borderline wicked side of him that is so thrilling, unique, and rare to find i think in this fandom’s collection of works. it’s just so fucking good.

forbidden romance.

UGGHH i love stories w forbidden romance. in this one, it’s med student reader x professor gojo (additional power dynamics in that he’s a senior surgeon in her field and also a research mentor in her study of interest…TRIPLE THREAT DAMN). i love how miss lostfractures doesn’t shy away from reminding the reader that it’s wrong, and that they shouldn’t be doing this. that’s my fave part of forbidden romances like yesss remind me again why this is all so wrong but let’s still do it anyways LOL <333

reader’s voice.

i’ve LOVED reader since the beginning, so relatable, emotionally mature, all her flaws are so believable & her strengths are shown seamlessly. it’s just so much fun to read because i’ll literally have a thought like “hmm…that (something a character said/did) doesn’t sound very convincing” and then the next line will be something like “he didn’t sound very convincing” like!!! me and s&c reader?? we’re locked in like this fr🤞🏼 like gojo’s domain expansion fingers

escapism.

everything in this story feels so damn real it’s insane. the pacing is stunning, love the utilization of stacks of scenes that are sort of short but so concise, enough to be a smooth read but still descriptive enough to entirely transport you into the world that’s being built. cannot praise the writing in this story enough. also the variety of ways that scenarios are made that pull characters closer to one another?? so creative. as someone who works in a research lab, studied bio in college (some of the fkn biochem stuff that comes up in this fic gives me heart attacks lmfaooo pls im traumatized), and has worked in clinics/hospitals it just itches my brain so damn good. you’ll be convinced you’re a brilliant med student while you read this fic.

writing.

the writing is just. so. good. it’s so good. better than most PUBLISHED works i’ve read. i really can't say much other than that, you just have to go see for yourself.

—

if any of these reasons speak to you, i highly recommend you check the fic out. just a note tho it does have some dark themes but you can find all the tags/warnings on her page!

OK BYE

[lovelaurs]

may i request a mcd Laurance or Travis (or both??) x reader fic where reader is on their period and having like super bad cramps and overheating and Laur and/or Trav are just trying their absolute best to help??

also just wanna say i adore your fics!! i absolutely loved the last one you wrote from my request (he/him lesbian laur x aroace aph), its was literal perfection <3

LOOKING AFTER YOU

pairing : mystreet travis, laurance x gn reader synopsis : your boyfriend takes care of you while you're on your period! tags : periods, cramps, comfort, cuddling, support word count : 1.2k | around 550 words for each one! a/n : as someone who ends up reading comfort fics of my favorite characters comforting me on my period while cramping, i thought this was a really fun request to right! hopefully this can bring some comfort to someone while they're in pain! - just going to clarify that this is still gender neutral! the only thing that is physically canon within this is having a period, but that does not define the gender of the reader!

MASTERLIST

Like clockwork, your time of the month had come.

I mean, it wasn’t like you were that shocked, as your calendar predicted it would come any day now. But… did it have to be today? Really? The day that you and your boyfriend were planning on going on a date?

I mean, come on!

You hadn’t even gone to the bathroom to check the bloody mess you probably caused, knowing you’d have to move around to clean it.

And your bones just ached.

You found yourself lying in bed, groaning, as a familiar voice knocked at your door.

Shit.

TRAVIS

“Hey, babe? You okay?” Travis called from behind the door.

A particular strong cramp hit you just as you were about to respond, causing your voice to waver and sound almost cracked.

“Y-Yep! Just peachy…”

There was a bit of silence as Travis processed how you sounded.

After a few seconds passed, he asked. “Can I come in?” He slowly turned the handle, ready to open the door but pausing to hear your response.

“Fine…” The word was drawn out, mumbled as you turned to your other side, squeezing your pillow.

As he opened the door, he saw you curled up on your bed, your hair frizzy after the amount of tossing and turning you’ve done ever since you woke up.

He quickly rushed over to the side of the bed, kneeling down. “What’s wrong?” He worriedly put a hand to your forehead, looking for a temperature. “Do you feel overheated?”

“No need, Travis. I’m not sick.” You made what sounded to be an inhuman noise as you turned over onto your other side to face him. “I’m just on my period. These cramps are killing me.”

He blinked twice before running to the bathroom, opening up the bottom cabinet and frantically looking for any menstruation products he could find.

He came back with boxes of tampons and pads stacked in his hands, laying them down on your dresser. He began lifting each up, reading the labels to find ones for heavy flow for your first day.

“Let’s see… thin, overnight, swimming…” He kept looking over the boxes, picking up several ones that seemed good for first day flows. “Do you want pads or tampons?”

You groaned out your answer and he nodded, grabbing the box and placing it next to you on the nightstand.

You grabbed his arm and pulled him in, wanting a sense of pressure (his arms) around you. 

Travis got the message almost instantly and crawled across the bed, curling in next to you.

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close and putting pressure on the exact spot you needed it most.

As he put his head into the crook of your neck, he snuggled against you. “You know, you’re going to have to get up eventually.”

You frowned at the thought. “But I don’t want to walk to the bathroom…” You groaned, stuffing your face into the pillow. 

“Well then.” He released you from his arms and got off the bed. “How about I just carry you there?” “What-”

Before you could answer, the man already picked you up, passing you the box you chose earlier, and walked towards the bathroom.

“T-Travis! What are you doing?”

He smiled at you as he placed you down on the lidded toilet seat. “You said you didn’t want to walk over here, right? Well, problem solved.” He then turned the shower on, making sure it was just the right temperature before he headed to the door. “I’ll go make your bed so we can cuddle when you’re out. And if you need anything else, don’t be afraid to ask, okay?”

“But what about our date-”

“Don’t worry, we can always reschedule.” He reached for the door handle, winking at you. “Besides, I prefer to spend the rest of the day cuddling with you instead!”

LAURANCE

“Laurance…” You groaned his name from your bed.

He slowly opened the door at your call, worriedly peaking in before pushing the door open.

As he looked at you curled up in a ball, he sat on the side of the bed, petting your head. “Cramps, huh?”

You nodded, inhaling sharply as your insides felt like they were twisting.

“I’m going to get you some Advil and heat up your heating pad, alright?” He wasted no time and quickly made his way out of the room, heading for the kitchen.

He hurriedly put the heating pad in the microwave and fetched you the bottle of Advil from the cabinet. He tapped his foot as he hummed a tune, waiting for the heating pad to finish heating up in the microwave.

On his way back, he made sure to grab a water bottle too. He didn’t want you to get dehydrated now, did he?

It wasn’t long before he came back to your room with both hands full of the items, smiling warmly.

It felt like Irene truly blessed you by giving you such a caring man.

He helped you sit up, opening the bottle cap for you and passing you the water as you took the medicine, before finally placing the heating pad on your abdomen. You couldn’t help but sigh as you leaned back against your pillow.

This man would hold the world up for you if it meant you were comfortable, huh?

You scooched in, patting the space next to you, welcoming Laurance into your bed.

He giggled at the sight before laying down next to you, pulling the covers over himself. Laurance quickly wrapped his hands around your waist, holding you tightly. The pressure against you felt almost heaven sent.

“You know, I think this is better than going out on a date.” He nuzzled his face into your hair. “Just the two of us cuddling in bed for who knows how long… I prefer it like this.”

You hummed onto the sheets, before turning yourself around so you could shove your face into his neck. “Mhm… I’m sorry for ruining our date, though.”

Laurance snickered. “How is this your fault in the first place? What, did you manually turn a bleeding switch on or something?”

“No… it’s just that we had everything planned out, with reservations and-”

“Well, we can have just as much fun at home compared to going out to eat.” Laurance grinned, pulling out his phone and opening YouTube. “We can have our own make-shift date right now! Do you want to watch something to help distract you from your cramps?”

You snuggled closer to your boyfriend, humming in agreement as you begin to watch a bunch of funny cat videos.

By the time the videos finished, your Advil had kicked in and you were feeling way better.

You turned to tell Laurance but found him fast asleep, head against your shoulder, breathing softly.

He looked downright adorable.

It wouldn’t be so bad if you took a picture of him like this… right?

You reached over him, trying to get your phone from the nightstand, when all of the sudden you hear him stir, mumbling your name.

With his arms still around you, you were pulled down against the bed as he pulled you to his chest. 

The way his arms slid around your back just felt too good to be true.

He makes your cramps just a little bit better.

@lovelaurs, 2024. do not repost this work in any way!

[dumb-bitchass]

Fight Club~ dating headcanons

a/n. i did NOT know other people were actively reading fight club fics here- thought i was the only one who checked the tags religiously. so anyway thank you guys for liking my first one

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Tyler:

• bro has 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦 trademarked

• and probably kinky too so you better be prepared

• literally like the best person to cuddle (it grows on him the longer you date)

• he can def support all your weight and likes to completely envelop you with his arms and body

• this man will protect you with his life 100%

• like seriously if someone even looks at you wrong he will throw hands like nothing

• will end someone if you ask him

• will try to teach you martial arts (will he succeed...? do you know yourself enough to answer that question...?)

• if you deal with the strange behaviors and odd hobbies and likes, he'll deal with yours

• struggles showing any real vulnerable emotion with you

• but he's trying for you, i feel like he has it in him

• but right now he shows he loves you in a more physical way

• you know what i mean

• i also feel like he'd be pretty chill in a real relationship so if you want to go somewhere, watch a certain movie, or play with his hair he'll just be like "okay"

• enjoys having deep conversations with you, if you talk with him or just sit and stare and listen

• won't force you to join project mayhem but may entice you

Jack (narrator):

• dating you just thaws his cold emotionless heart

• will get emotionally attached to you after a couple weeks

• bbg

• the only way he can fall asleep is if you're right there next to him

• bonus points if you hold him and let him rest his head on your chest (while running your fingers through his hair)

• writing this has got me giggling and kicking my legs rn

• likes holding your hand while out (or even at home cause he just likes knowing your there)

• is actually a really good listener and will talk you through your problems in a casual way

• and he knows you'll do the same for him which makes him feel safe

• your guyses favorite store to go to is ikea

• you guys like to explore the showrooms and lay on the beds, giggling and pretending to be asleep

• i could fr write ikea headcanons should i do it

• watching a movie on the couch close together until you both fall asleep

• and making fun of all the characters' bad choices along the way

• trying very hard to make breakfast together the next morning (he just ends up making toast cause there's not much in that fridge)

• sleepy kisses :(

• basically he's a sweet baby who needs to be taken care of and if you don't i will find you

[antimony-medusa]

Okay so, the thing about Boundaries, and why people keep bringing them up over and over again to creators, is I think there's a bit of a desire for what people are doing here to not be weird. Cause like, the creator signed off on it, so like, I'm fine and you can't make fun of me or get mad at me.

And like, I understand the desire to not be made fun of or have people get mad at you, believe me, I know, but I think we have all just gotta accept that what we're doing is— it's a little weird, bro.

Like by definition what fandom is is getting a little too much into your thing. Fan comes from Fanatic. We all saw some block men and we went way too hard with it. And I think that sufficiently viewed from the outside, there is just no way to do any kind of transformational creation and it not be weird to the wrong people.

Like, taking a character and making them miserable? One of the honourable fandom traditions, whether you're whumping them or if you go hard into comfort at the end. For someone entirely outside of fandom, that's just like why are you DOING that, bro, and when you add in the fact that we're using people's real names (well, gamer tags), there's no way for that not to be odd. "The creator said it was okay" is not going to make people go ??? any less. (Let me emphasize that this is fine, it's just like, also, you bring that up on the bus and peope go ????)

Let's look at fluff. You want to write about your characters in a coffee shop au? You want to write about your characters in a cuddly family dynamic, taking care of each other? You want to age down characters and write kid fic where they learn to face the challenges of the world and it's just so cute and you love them so much even if nothing really bad happens? I promise you that my non-fandom parents are gonna be like "why are you spending your time on that" and again, if you throw in the "is this real people" (it isn't, but that is a delicate thing to explain), you're looking at people staring at you in discomprehension and backing away.

Shippy stuff. Again, one of the honourable fandom traditions. You just love your guys and you want to write about how much they love each other (or maybe make it tragic about how only one person can make it out of the cactus ring). You spent all this time thinking about their feelings writing it out. You write out a kiss scene. It makes you flail happily. Most people don't do that! Absolutely fun to do? Yes! Something you can bring up as an ice breaker at the company potluck? Probably not! We are too much into the characters, and that's fine, but it's still gonna look a bit odd from the outside!

Plotty gen. You're writing an entire new story, but you're taking existing characters for it? Like it's original fiction, but you're using existing characters? Why not just write original fiction <I have had this conversation. Oh, you're writing a story about minecraft characters, and they— they get tortured? Like it starts with them being tortured? <also a fun conversation to be in.

I'm mostly thinking about this from the fanfiction side, but art, meta— we are just getting into things way too much. We're spending hours on this stuff. We drew the creators minecraft sonas in maid dresses. There are millions of words of fiction on the archive about every conceivable universe of good/bad things happeing to the characters. It is a primary hobby, where I could be learning piano or paying attention to sports. And I'm not, and like, that's fine.

I am here to tell you that people absolutely might find what we're doing weird, and also it's entirely fine. I just ran a poll about the sexiest minecraft character that got 68k votes on the most voted poll. And then I had to explain that to my doctor to explain why I didn't really have a normal baseline for the past week to compare to. (Doctor visibly thought it was weird but he was also like "you go" because he's a good doctor, but I had to start with explaining minecraft because he knew NOTHING about what I was talking about.) You just gotta accept that fandom is for a small segment of the population, we are all having fun with ourselves, and it's for us, it's not for the general population, and stop trying to make it palatable to people who don't care to understand. People on this site keep saying "racist white boys" and then they don't have the intellectual curiosity to pursue further as to why maybe that's not true, having a boundaries post is not going to make them nicer. It's fine. They're being jerks, we're just having fun.

And like, stop trying to get the creator to sign off on it. Accept that sometimes we're being weird and they can look at it if they want to see the weird fanatics going too hard with the characters. They will tell us if we're doing something they want to stop associating with their name, and up until that point, just accept that what we're doing is weird, and have fun with it.

We're weird.

Be more weird 2k23.

Have fun with it.

I wrote a time travel AU in DMs with a friend last night about a bird man and a minecraft piglin. Not normal. It's FINE.

[tinydefector]

At this point if we're making this a thing the God Rung x MC are we calling this AU MC the God fcker 😂😂😂

Because I imagine after few weeks or months now they'll gonna be comfortable enough to make joke out of it.

Tyrest some how still in the ship: you should pray before I kill you

MC: don't worry I already pray my hands in knees for your god and suck him off

Those who are watching this turn to Rung who's face already blushing red(or blue idk).

Rung avoiding eye contact: >\\\\<

Whirl: eh nice

I love God fucker MC, them being the feisty snappy human to the very sweet Therapist who is God. Got another Rung AU now to add to the Wings of Primus AU.

But I'm also now just thinking about what other human crew think. The number of Virgin Mary jokes. Fuck just the amount of Jokes in general which get thrown their way.

Rungs lover is going about their day blissfully unaware of the chaos that is multiple humans interrogating Rung. Him finally gets a breather and sneaks off to speak with them privately. "I believe the rest of your crew are rather concerned about our relationship " he says while fixing his glasses and trying to not to spook them.

"What have they been telling you now?" They ask with a soft smile when they finally see him. "They seem rather worried about me, umm.. putting a Sparkling in your chamber. " he tries not to wince as he explains the other humans rather crude thoughts.

It makes them tense up before shock and horror flashed across their face. "Ahhh. Don't listen to a word any of them say. Please, they are just trying to get under your plating. I promise they mean nothing by it!" Rung can see the embarrassment in their movements as he tries to calm them down.

"Please, just settle. I just want to know why they would be worried about something like that. One of them mentioned a book of your people, saying something along the 'second coming'?" He's curious but at the same time doesn't want to overstep if it's something rather personal to human kind.

"Ahhh, I'm going to strangle them, next they are going to say I'm Virgin Mary and start making jokes about that around ship" the grumble to themself only for Rung to scoop them up into his arms. "My dear, is there something I've done wrong, I know we talked about my 'issue' but it seems it's slowly becoming something that is causing you trouble" he had his worries even after they continued their relationship after the whole 'Primus incident' as they called it.

"Beloved, please talk to me." His voice is ever soft as he traces his digits across their cheek. They lean into his touch, taking a deep breath and sighing. "Nothing bad, I promise, just stupid Earth religion thing," they start, eyes flicking open to watch him. "Earth has its own collection of religions kinda like Cybertron, one of the stories is about a young woman who gives birth to the son of 'God', I think people are mainly making jokes over the similarities" they slowly explains, it makes Runsg optic flicker as he looks at them stunned.

"Oh my," he murmurs optics flicking down to their stomach, "you're not carrying?" He asked slightly worried only for them to laugh. "No, no I'm not carry handsome, humans like to make rumours tend to make alot more than Cybertronians, I'm more surprised it's only that God they are making jokes about" they tease softly while pressing a kiss to his lips.

His frame seems to relax into the kiss. " I would like to hear some of these stories one day" he hums against their lips. "I'll see if I can find a bible and some other religious text from some others, but just watch out, some fo them might start calling you Zeus" they chuckle. It makes him smile watching how their eyes catch light.

_______

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[thewinchestah]

Strawberry Fields (sonhei com campos de morango) - Alastor X Reader fic

Summary: On a dreadful night, Alastor goes to collect one of his contracts. Something goes terribly wrong. He finds you.

Warnings: fem!reader, Human!reader, smut, 18+, period sex, overstimulation, light cannibalism, blood, A LOT OF BLOOD, general creeppiness, Alastor is in hell for a reason, oral sex, alastor kind of hunts reader down, possessive!Alastor

A/N: Soooo!! This was a long time coming but here it is. This idea has been on my mind for a long time now and I wanted to test the waters before i commit to a long fic. I hope you guys like it, i'm kinda on the fence about it. I'm working on the requests and they should be out soon I PROMISEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. Also I got a little carried away, i'm sorry. Hope you guys enjoy it. It's always a pleasure to write for you. The visuals and the title for this fic are heavily inspire by this music video. Not the lyrics tho, i always felt like the singer did a poor job with this concept and i wanted to do it justice.

Taglist: @markster666@jyoongim@stygianoir @pepperycookie@fraspent @aether-th3-enby  @lady-valtieri @karolinda007-blog @jesi-pinkman@polytheatrix If the tags aren’t working or you wanna be tagged, let me know.

You curse when another sharp stone cuts your feet.

You regret it a second later when you hear the ominous sounds that reverberate through the trees. They are closing in on you.

You don’t know how you got here, you just know now you are running for your life inside these woods now. The only guiding light, a full moon that looks weirdly otherworldly.

Adrenaline burns inside your bloodstream, the forest seems devoid of any living thing. It’s only you and whoever is chasing you. You wish you could hear gunshots, you wish you could hear screams. Anything besides the occasional twig snap or wind caressing the pine trees’ leaves. The eerie silence is deafening, and worse: the eerie silence makes you even more aware of your situation. 

It’s incredible how everything gets clearer when you’re about to die.

Maybe you shouldn’t have traveled alone, maybe you shouldn’t have decided to go somewhere where the closest thing to civilization is the village’s old-yet-charming dinner. 

You just wanted a little bit of quiet, a place that made introspection inviting. Next time you should go for a beach vacation.

Next time? why does next time sound so… far away? Somehow your feet carry you away from the forest’s well marked path and deeper into the thick vegetation, hiding behind a large tree. You gained a few minutes on them by taking a detour.

Breathe. Remember to breathe.

Right, your mind remembers. You’re being hunted down like prey in the creepy horror film woods, time to focus on surviving again. You can overthink later.

You assess your options: you can keep going into the woods, a deadly game of hide and seek. Zig-zag through the trees, keep them guessing. There’s a good chance you will find wildlife as you go deeper. This could be a problem, it’s too dark to make anything out, an encounter could cause enough of a distraction, you could take advantage of that. Or you could end up mauled. Plus, you are absolutely positive there are bear traps somewhere. If you're gonna die, make your death less dumb. Quite an embarrassing topic of discussion in the afterlife, saying that you died like horror film pretty girls making dumb decisions that you clearly would never make in a situation like that. You just know they are incredible hunters, you need to take them out of their element, expose them.

So yeah, going deeper isn't an option. 

Something catches your eye, there’s a big opening in the thick vegetation, there’s a clearing ahead and… sparks? You definitely see a light. You were told by the locals how the population is scattered across acres and acres of practically untouched wilderness, there’s also the park’s rangers stationed on specific places that grant them a visual advantage in case of emergencies. A big clearing is perfect for that. Maybe, just maybe there’s hope. 

Of course bolting there will make you terribly exposed, they will know your position all the time, and they can still hunt you hidden by the edge of the trail.  Besides there’s no guarantee of what awaits you when you reach the promised land, they could have a partner waiting, there could be nothing at all there. Taking this risk for nothing sounds worse than being lured into a trap. You just have this gut feeling that’s where you should go. Your brain starts to pick the plan apart, this doesn’t sound good. Hesitation can be fatal. But you are all adrenaline and primal flight intistic - 

The decision was made for you, you start running again. Taking advantage of the final stretch of cover you still have until you hit the trail again, you take several deep breaths. Oxygen needs to keep coming, so you can make decisions, so your limbs can respond quickly. Your peripheral catches something that’s also running. It’s a stag.

He’s also prey. He’s an omen. He’s your cue. 

You leap across some fallen branches and your scratched feet land on the main trial. As soon as you complete your first step you hear movement and hurried voices. They are onto you. “What do we say to the good of death? Not today” you give yourself a pep-talk as you keep running. Maybe thinking this is all fiction will help you survive this, detach yourself from the situation, don’t think about the consequences, just act. 

And like that, you don’t stop running. You sing your abcs to focus and stop spiraling. Evolution is truly amazing, the cuts you suffered don’t hurt anymore, precious shooting adrenaline, adrenaline that makes you tunnel vision towards your objective. By now you know where to step, when to dodge, when to slow down and when to go faster. Millennia of sheer force of survival catching up to you.

breathe, remember to breathe.

You inhale a good chunk of oxygen and look ahead. There’s a man on the edge of the tree line and a few meters left. Your mind wants to sing in victory, but you refrain from that, you know better than that it only ends when it’s over-

You’re positively sprinting towards the man right now, like he is your assured salvation. Something inside you screams louder and louder guiding you to him and you follow the sound. 

You hear gunshots. 

So noooooow they bring out the guns? That’s low. 

But that’s a good thing right? If they are shooting they are getting out of time. A single gunshot can take you down and they can smoothly and swiftly carry you away, like it’s a normal hunt. No one will question shooting something they didn’t see getting shot so deep into these woods. But shooting a girl in front of a witness? that’s for amateurs right? So, the man is not a partner you decide. 

remember to breathe, you are not breathing. 

You are so close now, you see an outstretched hand coming your way only a few more steps

breathe. 

You don’t, instead you leap towards your loosely established finish line and take the hand an-

 Dirt greets your face as you fall face first into the trail,  and you crawl like a zombie that just rose from its grave. You have a collection of new cuts and scrapes now, it hurts and you can’t bite your lip to suppress the pain. Still, you intertwine your fingers with his, your other arm aggressively seeking for leverage, clinging to your flesh lifeline. You blur out a bunch of incoherent things as he effortlessly lifts you up  in one swift motion. 

“Get behind me, my dear.” he asks. He has a weird voice almost like it leaves something in the air that caresses your skin, an inviting voice nonetheless. You hide yourself inside the crook of his arm, giving you the ability to witness just a little bit of the action there’s about to happen. You never let go of his hand. Your prince charming feels awfully cold.

Alastor waits, rather impatiently, for his clients to arrive. Making a deal with a human is his ticket topside and Hell is still terribly boring, even with the hotel. The Radio Demon was no stranger to contracts with humans, they were a win-win situation. Those who seek him always have a taste for the wicked and deranged, so it’s easy to figure out what they want and twist it for his own benefit. When they inevitably die, be it death by old age or death by occupational hazard, Alastor gets useful men from the moment they manifest in Hell. They always know exactly where they are and why, they are not confused sinners, petty crime or moral crime sinners. They are, most times, skilled killers who take no trouble doing Alastor’s bidding. An accomplished killer in life makes an even better prolific hellish soldier, someone who will continue indulging in their desires without the constraints of society, but eternally tied down by Alastor’s constraints. With the right incentive, they can rise in the ranks and become treasured resources for the overlord. Plus, the camaraderie isn’t all bad. Takes one to know one, they say.

However, humans these days are getting careless, sloppy. This entire display is proof of that, they should be over to kill and cover their tracks alone. The basics, for hell’s sake. 

 Alastor only takes care of the details. Tampering with some evidence here, getting a victim on the right place at the right time there. The occasional final encouragement to give into the darkness and finally kill, some advice. A self respecting killer should be able to kill and get away with it without the demon’s aid. He’s there for consulting and making sure there are no loose ends. 

But never this. Having to intervene in the middle of a kill because his client made a very very big mess that screams “you’re getting caught!” is below him. Amateurs are not worth Alastor's time.

The two men approach the tree line, clearly worked up from the hunt and shocked to see him there. If Alastor is withholding a victim, something went very, very wrong.

“Good night my good fellows!” the greeting leaves his lips in an overly-chirpy tone. Is that static in his voice?  Radio static? Is that what’s leaving goosebumps on your skin? The stress and the adrenaline are making you imagine things. You took the “pretend this is all a fantasy and you the main character” too seriously. Because now you are hiding behind Darth Vader’s skirts. That’s impossible, right? right?

“Great.” you can see the sarcasm dripping from one of your aggressors. “You’re here to watch?” the question asked all passive aggressive with an edgy tone. That’s definitely a teenager. What the fuck? you were being chased by a high school kid? This is ridiculous, utterly ridiculous, how can a teen pull this off? And you almost died? What? Your mind starts spirling. 

Alastor ignores the son, is the father he cares about. They’ve known each other for years now, and he’s underperforming to say the least. He waits for the father to address him, it’s his mess after all. The older man gives his son a stern look and finally breaks the silence. 

“Goodnight. We didn’t expect to see you here tonight, to be honest.’”

 The second voice is much older. That doesn’t quiet your thoughts at all. Is this a cult initiation thing? Hunting girls down like they are prey? WHY DID YOU TRAVEL TO THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE IN THE FIRST PLACE??? OF COURSE THERE WOULD BE CULTS HERE, DUUUUH. IF I WAS IN A CULT THIS WOULD BE THE PERFECT PLACE TO HIDE. There are so many voices screaming inside your head now, you are shivering. With anger, anticipation, fear. Your inner monologue overrides your brain and you are not sure you can cope with everything that’s going on. The voices, all the voices, sound wrong. They land weirdly inside your ear and you need to think hard to understand the words, you know how crucial every piece of information is. They could make all the difference when you talk to the police. They could help a conviction when you are on the stand, giving your official statement. You are surviving this. You are going to watch these fuckers get life in prision or worse.  You are surviving this right? There’s so much you haven’t thought through. Whose hand are you holding again? 

“Oh please. Don’t act all coy now, it doesn’t suit you old friend” Alastor is starting to cross the line from nuisance to anger. He twirls his microphone in annoyance, and makes sure to sink it deep into the moist ground. “Let me remind you about the terms of our agreement. For each 2 kills you make, one soul is mine to take. Or am I wrong?”

“No. You aren’t”. The father answers through gritted teeth.  “But I never thought you would want to collec-” Alastor tilts his head, his grin widens and he snaps “Never thought what? That I would claim what I am owed at my leisure? That I would stop waiting patiently for you, acting at your whim? You earned the privilege of killing unbothered by my vigilance. Because you always delivered your side of the bargain with excellence. I can revoke said privilege whenever I want. Especially after this pitiful performance.” The seasoned killer seems to slightly cower at Alastor’s words. Good. He always regarded the demon without fear or trepidation. His work was meticulous, spotless, basically perfect. And that gave him the justifiable confidence for going toe to toe with the Radio Demon during conversations, a bargaining chip during dealings of his contracts. Few could say that. 

You feel nauseous. Reality is crashing down at you hard and fast. How many people have these people killed? They are trading lives like it is the stock market, and yet you can’t let go of your prince charming’s hand. There’s no rational thought to justify it, actually rational thought is also being slaughtered like a sacrificial lamb tonight, because despite the gigantic red flags you are not letting go of this man’s hands. Everything about him screams danger, everything about him screams your safety. He’s the type of paradoxical that messes with your primal senses, that makes a moth go to the lights that will kill it. 

From the crook of his arm you finally gather the courage to open your eyes. You try to look up to your prince charming, but his face is concealed by the shadows of the night. Actually, everything of importance seems to be conveniently hidden from you. Your aggressor’s faces look distorted, recognizable traits melting together like watercolor painted by 100 shades of darkness, voices and words fuse together creating only cacophony. You hear things, you see things, but you can’t discern them. The three men keep going back and forth, but their conversation seems to dissipate into the air. Everything about this feels like a dream. 

Of course you can’t register anything of importance. Alastor makes sure of it. You are a potential victim after all. A liability, capable of making a positive identification. It’s wishful thinking that someone would take your account of what’s happening on this dreadful night seriously.

 Alastor has no shame in using the prejudices of your world to his advantage. If you were to tell, everyone would make the assumption that you are “just another hysterical woman, thinking too much about folktales”. You had too much to drink, partied too hard. Hallucinogens are a common party drug and this is the result of a bad trip. At worst, “someone tried to spike your drink, but nothing happened. You should be thankful, not getting in the way of important police work”. Alastor also knows that injustice is no real crime, and yet he decided to spare you. It doesn’t feel fair for you to perish in such crude ways, a practice run for a post pubescent, obnoxious serial killer in training. A precious thing like you should be honored, savored. In the odd chance that your voice was heard, the Radio Demon  guarantees that no reliable information will come out of your mouth. His clients might be lacking, but in the dealmaking business your words are your worth and Alastor has a silvertongue. Surely that pretty mouth of yours won’t be a problem. 

“I’m afraid I have to insist, my good friend. The pair of you caused enough damage already with these sloppy, impetuous spree killings. Your law enforcement is already on your scent, tracking the pattern and by the looks of it tonight’s mess will send quite a message. A message that I will have to make sure is delivered faultlessly. I will uphold my hand of the bargain, you will uphold yours. The girl will be spared. There’s plenty of prey out there, plus her death would only act as an aggravation, she’s not your type, and trust me, they will know you made a mistake, you will be exposed.” The Radio Demon’s patience is wearing thin. He shouldn’t have to justify his actions to humans. There’s no compromise to be found here, they went to him and the deal is always on his terms. You squeeze his hand really tight during the discussion of your scheduled demise, like a reminder that you are still there. Still afraid. 

 How cute. Alastor thinks. Your adrenaline is starting to wear off, dissipating into the cool forest breeze and opening space for a strong sense of false security, equally as inebriating. The smell of your sweet fear laced blood is unmistakable, assaulting your savior’s nostrils. Your knees buckle, and you struggle to keep yourself on your feet, clinging to prince charming’s hand for dear life. “Breathe darling, you are forgetting to breathe” He turns quickly towards you, his voice impossibly soft, shooting. You try to look up at charming’s face again, the only new discovery made is that he's awfully tall, and his face is still hidden by opaque darkness. You work really hard on breathing normally again, but you want to keep looking. Their faces are a monstrous distortion, vacant eyes that seem to cry blood. Your entire body tingles, you feel weird goosebumps. It takes all of your willpower to keep standing. You won’t lay yourself at their feat, defeated, like the corpse they would drag from these woods. But you just can’t keep looking, so you shut your eyes and grip the hand that has become your lifeline even tighter.

“You won’t even truly use the bitch, she’s no use for you” The entitled brat opens his mouth again. That’s the trigger.

The Radio Demon grows as tall as the native pine trees, his antlers furiously expanding and casting a shadow so dark over the two serial killers that the moon is completely obstructed. The only source of light in the forest now is the burning red dials of his eyes. The father sees the burning inferno of Alastor’s eyes and for the first time he is speechless. Maybe the realization of where destiny is sending him finally happens. The son sees raw, untamed power for the first time in his life and cowers like a scared puppy. Pathetic. 

“Now let’s get something clear here. I’m only tolerating your insolence because of my decade long relationship with your father.” You shut your eyes harder, your eyelids a shield from whatever is about to happen. Foreboding making the forest air too thick for you to breathe. You finally break down and start crying, too fucking much.  Alastor’s face meets the son on eye level. His teeth are bared, static picks up around the group to the point both men are struggling to breathe. A clawed hand traps the father’s face, a trail of blood dripping from the older serial killer’s cheek.“He’s as close to a professional as our kind gets. Shame the same thing can’t be said about you. This juvenile outburst does not make you more feared nor does it assert your dominance. It displays how weak you are, inept to succeed on this because you can’t keep your entitled demeanor in check. You are not owed anything in this lifestyle, if you want something you need to prove you’re worthy of it by taking it yourself. Whining like a petulant child won’t get you anywhere” You feel dizzy, the earth beneath your feet quakes,  whoever, whatever is holding your hand is sheeting with rage so consuming the ground shakes with the intensity of their emotions.

Alastor’s attention is now focused on the father, the red inferno from his eyes making the man feel genuine fear for the first time in his long, violence-filled life.  “Teach your spawn some manners and proper work, otherwise get him out of my sight. This was a courtesy. Fulfillment failings lead to contract termination, and contract termination means a lot of details appearing. You do not wish to make an enemy of me” Alastor delivers his last threat with a snarl. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up at the intensity of his words, you feel a powerful rush of wind, leaves ruffling, hurried steps and suddenly the world is at a standstill. The forest seems devoid of life excluding you, your mysterious prince charming and your two aggressors. All of your senses are assaulted with an overwhelming feeling of wrongness… darkness. Darkness that feels like the most luxurious silky dress on your skin, the most intense look of a passionate lover. It feels dangerously alluring and your will power is being gladly tempted by it. 

You feel like you’ve been holding your breath for hours, the rollercoaster of adrenaline inducing hyperventilation and conscious calming breaths making your brain enter some sort of high. Is that what people felt after a battle in ancient times? Is that what It means to stare death in the face and come out victorious? You don’t understand what you are feeling, but when oxygen finally feels normal again, tall, dark and handsome is escorting you deeper into the woods and you don’t even care.

 You’ve just slayed the dragon with your bare hands. You don’t care. You just want to bask on the feeling. To fucking feel. To remind yourself that you are still alive. 

Alastor is drunk on something that he rarely indulges in. Desire. Pure, raw carnality that makes him antagonize one of his greatests clients. Someone Alastor awaited his inevitable death with anxiety and hopefulness, someone he could actually call more than a partner in crime when in hell. A friend. A friendship born from blood and gore but bathed in kinship and inexplicable understanding of one’s dark nature. And the Radio Demon almost killed the man and his useless spawn and fucked everything up because when he saw your running for your life something ignited inside him. When you squeezed his hand so tightly, with such abandon and trust, like he was an Angel sent from heaven to protect you when reality was the most wicked antonym. 

Alastor spared you because you were prey. Beautiful, delicious prey that defied your destiny by accepting the nature of your condition. You didn’t dare to fight, you didn’t dare to think you could stand a chance against your hunters. You just fled. You fled and was perfectly lured into another trap, you doubled the bet when you held his hand and didn’t let go, serving all of your vulnerability on a silver platter to someone you deep down knew was way worse than any serial killer. 

Prey, that will chew its own leg to get out of a trap. Prey, that will offer herself to the most ungodly creature around if it means she can survive a few more moments, just to spite those who started the chase. Prey, that now holds his hand completely carefree and all giggles while she is led to a much more final and insidious type of slaughter. Prey that he was now going to claim.

Your wounded feet start to land on soft squishy things, a familiar scent invades your nostris. From the scent of sweat, blood and gore now to the scent of juicy, plump strawberries. 

“Hey, are we on a strawberry field?” it’s the first time you addressed him directly. You trail behind him, hurried steps crushing the strawberries on your way. You look up and for the first time you can see open skies. “You don’t need to worry my dear, you are perfectly safe now”

Are you? 

You decide that he doesn’t sound like  Darth Vader anymore, his voice is impossibly staticy, it prickles your skin and it feels like goosebumps that accompany butterflies on your stomach. He sounds like someone you would meet at a ball and have a cinderella moment with. The blanket of stars that illuminates the clearing you ferociously fought for grants you a better vision of his figure: scarlet red, snug tailcoat, perfectly tailored. Long legs and trousers that fit like skinny jeans. He dresses like the lead singer from a classic emo band. You can’t say you are complaining, you always loved the idea of a tall dark and handsome prince charming. 

“So, you have some weird friends don’t you?” you ask him. You can hear him chuckle, it is a very pleasant sound. Suddenly the twirls you, a fucking disney princess’ musical number twirl, and you find yourself in front of very big bed. 

With impeccable white sheets, you mind adds. Must be really hard to maintain white sheets in the middle of a strawberry field. Wait, what is a king size bed doing in the middle of th-

“Ah, I don’t really do friends, more like reluctant colleagues” bootleg brandon urie is the melancholic type, then. 

Alastor finally takes a good look at you when you take your seat on the bed with a contented sigh. You look marvelous. Your hair is messy and wild, your cheeks and neck flushed red from the effort. Your eyes big and pliant, waiting for his answers. You look so human, so deliciously alive. He desperately wants to be the cause of your disarray, to make the blood rush to your face under his materfully wicked touch. To feel your pulse fluttering when he touches your neck. 

You still can’t see all of him though. There’s stars, a big full moon whose light outstretches far, bathing the clearing in ethereal silver. The brightest lights cast the darkest shadows, your savior is always in the shadows.

By now you know he is purposefully hiding his identity from you, but you always liked a game.  Plus you don’t really have anything to lose now, you just want to forget everything that happened to you tonight, you just want to inebriate yourself, and charming really looks like someone who could show you a good time.

Either that or you are having a psychotic break after enduring life threatening stress. 

Anyway, you decide to bite. One possible psychotic murder, funny, charming murderer is better than two lukewarm ones.

“Do you always take random women to a creepy bed  with impeccable white sheets in the middle of the woods or am I just special?” not a chuckle now, a laugh. A beautiful, full laugh. The residual static on your skin making you shiver. 

Alastor completely understands what you are trying to do, and it’s truly hilarious. Your petulance and sarcasm towards him means to an end. You’re so precious, talking to him like this, thinking you could take him at his own game. What a beauty! Seeing you think you are succeeding in this only for him to take that conviction away from you at the last minute is going to be so entertaining. He wants you to dig your own grave, lay yourself at his feet.

He doesn’t indulge you, instead he takes a thick, silky strand of your hair and inhales deeply. You smell like sweet innocence and summer. It makes Alastor euphoric. 

His head tilts down as he smells your hair. You don’t that’s creepy, it looks creepy, it sounds creepy, but you feel reverence in his action. 

And then out of the shadows comes a revelation, you see his horns. You suspected his unhumanity, but the confirmation of it knocks the wind out of you. Your eyes widen, you simply cannot make sense of this night, everything feels too surreal and raw reality at the same time, it’s giving you whiplash.

“Are you the devil?” you ask him without much consideration of the weight of this question. You do your best to keep your voice from failing but it’s impossible. You never dropped his hand, in fact you feel like you are permanently attached to him, like a marble statue. Your fingers open and interlock again and again, reflecting your anxiety, but you don’t let go.

You can’t see it, but Alastor’s grin is as big as a cheshire cat’s.

 “Do you seek the devil?” answering a question with a question. Smoke and mirrors. Alastor waits for you to answer, but you don’t. You don’t know what to answer, you try to contemplate if enganding further could mean eternal damnation, or if you are already damned. Is he going to make you an offer you can’t refuse? an offer you aren’t allowed to refuse? Alastor will blame it on lack of patience, but the fact is he can’t wait anymore to taste you, there’s a burning desire inside him, that only gets more and more ferocious as he tastes the inebriating smell of your fear blessing the air he breathes again. 

He removes your interlocking fingers, his hand quickly trapping your tiny wrist inside. You hear heavy breathing. 

“Or do you seek a taste of the forbidden fruit?” The demon licks the long cut across our open palm. His tongue is sensual and cold, the sensation of it slowly dragging across your wounded skin a soothing balm. You moan, he growls. “Forbidden fruit it is.” he announces, delivered like a sentence. 

You are completely free of his touch for the first time since it all began, but it feels like you just suffered an enormous loss. You feel taunted, like someone just dangled a shiny new thing in front of you and took it away. It’s like your entire being has become tunnel vision and you need to get to the bottom of this, whatever this is. Consequences be damned. 

You watch closely as your paranormal paramour moves towards the bed, he is completely concealed by the darkness. Darkness deep and palpable, he morphs within it. The visuals are beautiful, it looks like one of the art’s greatest masters is painting a watercolor in front of you. Darkness from absence of light floating and mixing with otherworldly opaque darkness, flowing like a river. You wonder if it would run through your fingers like water if you touch it. 

Antlers. He has antlers, not horns. 

The not-devil settles himself behind you, back against the headboard. He quickly maneuvers you onto his lap, grabbing you by the waist. You squeal in surprise as more of him touches you, now pressed flush against his hard chest you feel something you shouldn’t be feeling, nonetheless resistance is futile, you spread your legs giving him more access. He has barely touched you, and yet you are completely surrendered to him. 

Alastor wasn’t joking when he established that a woman like you should be savored, slowly consumed so he can extract everything you have to offer. He knows your mind is exhausting itself trying to discern what is happening, how the body and the spirit get more susceptible to succumb to desire after surviving imminent death, and he intends to take full advantage of it. Alastor wants to see you writhe under his touch, pain and pleasure. He wants to torment you and make you pay for existing near him, for making him careless. For making him indulge in carnality and arousal. But mainly, he wants to punish you, because you battled so hard for your survival against them. When you should fear him. 

The Radio Demon touches your neck, exactly where your pulse is, where he can feel your beating heart, full of life pulsing. Life that taunts him and seduces him. The thump thump thump of your heart beneath his fingers like a moth going directly to the light that will kill it. He holds your entire life, your entire existence under his clawed finger, it makes him delirious. 

You feel a sharp sting on your neck, fangs that break your skin and spill your blood, red and ready for his taking. Holding your breath while he sucks the life out of you, your head swims,  and you drown on the feelings. You feel pleasure, forbidden pleasure from having something hurting and feasting on you. 

“If you are not the devil, are you a vampire?” It might be a dumb question, but it’s the logical one. Sometimes the obvious needs to be said.  He laughs again, a full deep laugh,mockery dripping from it.

“Why? If I were a vampire would it make you feel better about spilling your blood for me?” he dodges the question again. Bait and switch. He’s feeding on you and you are enjoying it.. You don’t know what he is, you don’t know his name. It only spurs the burning desire in the pit on your stomach.

Alastor licks the entire length of your neck, his other hand applying light pressure on your pulse point. He bites down on you again, harder, going deeper. You roll your eyes and moan obscenely  as he sucks on it. This is going to leave a mark for sure, but you don’t care, because whatever he’s doing to you feels delirious, it’s the best thing you’ve ever felt. 

Your blood is dripping from Alastor’s lips, he licks it not wanting to waste a drop. He can taste your eagerness, your fear, your essence, your soul. The red liquid is solid proof of how alive and defenseless you are, completely at his mercy. You keep moaning and melting on his lap at his ministrations, a finger starts tracing your arm, feather light touch that leaves you shivering in anticipation. 

He’s gently scratching, teasingly. It’s a claw, you realize. Another part of his unhumanity making you scared and deliciously trembling in anticipation. It’s Alastor’s turn to moan now, his clawed finger comes to torment your clothed nipple, he makes sure to do it tantalizing slow to give you just a taste of what it could be. He wants to hear you ask for it, beg even.

 “I’m afraid I’m way worse than the Devil, little doe” his low, threatening tone makes you close your legs together and rub, desperately seeking friction, some relief. 

“Re–really? You don’t sound that bad” A lie. You just want to say something back.

Your paramour laughs again, he takes your hand in his and starts making his way downwards. 

“How precious are you, lying like that to me” He stops both of your hands on your lower belly, threatening to cross the point of no return. You squeal and struggle on a desperate attempt to raise your hips and get something more, anything.

Delighted in seeing you writhe this badly when he has not even properly touched you, Alastor squeezes your neck tighter, inflicting just enough pain and pressure to make you sing. The Radio Demon finally makes the decision and drops any pretense of moderation, hastily dropping the band of your panties and guiding your joined hands to your slit. “I can taste the fear in your blood, how your sense of pleasure has been forever skewed”.

The two digits tease your entrance that is coated with arousal and something more, his touch is masterful, like he knows the ways of the human body the same way a talented musician knows their way around an instrument. He makes you moan, he makes you sing with only the possibility of his actions. The idea of being taken by something unholy. 

At last, Alastor finally enters your  tight wet pussy, his finger guides yours as he undoes you in ways that should not be allowed. He pumps your cunt mercilessly, gone are the careful, calculated touches, he wants to make you crash and burn as quick as possible, he wants to make you understand that you crossed the most important line of your life. There’s no going back now, your pretty mortal body is forever tainted by unholiness, by his darkness. 

“You spread yourself like this for me, a wanton little thing while I choke and feast on your blood”. Alastor curls the fingers inside you repeatedly making you move your hips in the maniac rhythm he has set. You ride your joined digits, moaning like a whore while your lover’s grip on your throat tightens and releases making your brain short circuits in pure unknown carnal feeling. “You are not the demure, feisty thing like you desperately tried to prove earlier. It only takes the slight touch of something forbidden to make you moan like a common whore” he adds another one of his huge fingers and starts scissoring inside you, the combination of two of his digits and your little one only adds insult to injury. You will never be able to replicate these ministrations, the feeling of being this full and stretched, you had a taste of the forbidden fruit, you are high on it and you will never get another hit on your own. 

Alastor alternates between choking you and curling the fingers inside you, your lightheadedness combined with the assaulting pleasure making you feel feverishly delirious. Your body is hot from desire and adrenaline combined, a starking contrast to your mysterious lover’s touch, ice cold. The two of you distinct seasons, distinct stages of existence mixing together, life and death tethering each other, blurring the lines of worlds that shouldn’t exist together. 

Orgasm building quickly, you grip the white sheets tighter and tighter and tighter but your fingers feel wet, you look down to see a mess of redness leaking from your core. 

Oh fuck, you are on your period. You completely forgot about it. In normal circumstances you would feel mortified about being fingered like this while bleeding, but right now it makes things even more erotic, you’ve learned that your lover may not be a vampire, but he definitely has a thing for blood and something inside you ignites at the idea of letting him feast on your blood, eat you out while you bleed for him. 

Your pussy flutters with the fantasy of that tongue working your pussy and with a particularly harsh pinch on your clit you are off. Waves of pleasure spread across your entire body like wildfire, he chokes you merciless making the urge to scream to the universe how fucking good you feel impossible. You want to scream his name, but you don’t know who he is, what he is. You just want more.  

While you ride the waves of your orgasm unbothered Alastor takes the opportunity to take fingers from your pussy to his mouth, red with blood and slick with arousal, he moans audibly as he tastes you, the most intimate parts of you. Only a little bit of it inebriates him, this is better than 70% of what he does in Hell. This feels better than closing a new deal, watching the princess of Hell fail miserably at rehabilitating sinners. You taste so sweet, so alive and afraid. He’s hard with the conviction of how scared you are, of how he has permanently tainted something so innocent and pure. How you stupidly threw yourself to his mercy. Perishing at the hand of those serial killers is more merciful than him. And now you will know. 

You must have babbled something while you came, about wanting to scream his name and not knowing it, because now you find yourself completely lying down, the bed feels soft like a cloud and you are sprawled like an angel, and he finally reveals something about him of his own volition.

“The name is Alastor, my dear. It has definitely been a pleasure meeting you.” Alastor, now you know, settles himself between your thighs and the pooling redness from your core. You feel him running his claws across the impossibly soft flesh of your inner thighs, you cover your face with your arm.

“Alastor I’ve never… No one has ever…” you trail off, you shouldn’t be embarrassed at this point, but nevertheless you feel your cheeks burning. Is he really going to eat your bloody pussy? fuck.

Alastor’s name on your lips sounds so soft, so pure. He wants to ruin it. He wants to destroy the careful constructed cognitive dissonance that makes you feel safe and comfortable around him. He wants you to be completely afraid and craving being scared of him, disrupting your sense of pleasure so he can ruin you completely, getting you hooked on him and delirious for more, willing to do anything for another taste of the forbidden fruit.

So, he makes you look.

“Look at me” you don’t want to. You feel a lot of things right now, but mainly you feel as if you really take a look at your dark lover tragedy is going to happen. Eros and psyche all over again, but bloodier. 

He claws your thighs, you hiss at the delicious pain, but still disobey him. 

“Look. At. Me” he snarls, definitely a threat. You feel yourself getting wetter. 

Alastor slaps your ass, hard. He’s losing patience, his temper turning quick at the realization that you not knowing who he is isn’t a perfect plan.

You moan from the pain, from the sting. It feels wickedly erotic. You almost want him to hit you again. Since when pain felt so fucking good?

So you do, you finally look at him. 

Red. The first thing that your brain fixates on is how much red there is. Scarlet red hair, red blood running down your core and staining the white sheets. Red claws that pierce your skin. 

Red eyes. Burning red eyes that entrap you. It’s like you can see the blazing fire that tortures the damned inside those eyes. 

If this is why people fall from grace, you totally understand the appeal now.

The second thing, the thing that makes you transfixed at the sight of him is how wrong he looks. His antlers are beautiful, growing from his scarlet hair beautifully adorning ears that look extremely soft, non-threatening, like a crown. His eyes are big and sharp, close together 

while he stares at your soul, eyes of a predator in the middle of softness of prey. His grin is completely predatory, dangerous, sharp teeth that hurt and maul, but at the same time bite you just the right way to make you moan in raw carnality. The skin is pale, not in a michael-jackson-thriller-way but in an ethereal way. His voice is static that seems to tickle your skin, sometimes more than others. He’s paradoxical, everything you should be afraid of and the comfort you should seek at the same time. A force you shouldn’t meddle with. Primal and raw. 

You may not know what exactly he is, but one thing is certain: he’s dangerously alluring, and you completely fell into his trap. But it hardly matters anymore, because he is about to drink blood from your pussy with that marvelous silvertongue of his.

“Fucking beautiful” you blur out, not realising he’s going to hear you.

One of Alastor’s eyebrows shoots up. He’s not regarded as beautiful often. Alluring, maybe. 

He wants to make you pay for all the soft ideas you have about him.

You soon learn how hard it is to hold the gaze of your lover’s eyes, his burning red irises entrap you. It's impossible to look away but overwhelming to stare into. 

“If all the mortal men you’ve been with are weak and pathetic enough to decline the dark gift of your bleeding cunt, then I’m honored to be your first” and without much more warning you feel a delicious cold tongue licking your entrance and you are off

 Alastor isn’t eating you out, he’s feasting on you like you are his last chance of salvation. His face is completely buried deep in between your legs as his tongue assaults you at a merciless pace. He makes sure not to waste a drop of anything your gushing pussy gives him. His tongue enters you and the contrast between your tight heat and his coldness makes you delirious. Exquisite carnal pleasure, you could cum from it alone.

Alastor is having a hard time navigating this double edged knife: you don’t know who he is what is capable of, which means your aren’t near as scared of being this vulnerable with him as you should be, a literal cannibal delighting in your soft flesh, drinking the warmth of your sacred blood. You must taste delicious terrified. But the silver lining is that the fear he inspires would make any woman who knows more compliant to this, even offering this to him freely. You have no idea about his exploits, he can and he will tarnish you with all of his unholy darkness, wrecking your world during the eleventh hour when you realize what you’ve done, who you’ve so easily corrupted your morals and your spirit for. You’re so beautiful, so naive, so trusting, so alive. You moan “Alastor, Alastor, Alastor” soft ohhhs and aaaahs as he polishes your cunt, every sound you make, every twitch of your legs and roll of your lips reminding your ungodly lover of how delicate and rare you are, aiding him on his mission. Gripping the sheets isn’t enough anymore, you instinctively place your hands on his antlers, the texture indescribable. Again, the contradiction of the softness of his velvet and the sharpness of his teeth, wickedness of his tongue giving you whiplash. You start rubbing them furiously, trying to mirror his ministries on your swollen folds. It definitely is doing something to him because he drags his teeth along your inner tie, breaking more skin, drawing more blood, hissing. You scream at the heavenly pain mixed with unholy pleasure.

Normally, Alastor wouldn’t let anyone near his antlers, arguably the most sensitive part of his body. If worked right, the sensations take him to another level of desire, insane carnality. But you taste so sweet, rich blood mixed with erotic arousal on a soft flesh platter, he consumes your innocence as he coaxes another orgasm from you. You hold on to dear life on his antlers, his velvet shedding and bloodying your hands, running through adding to the painting of reds that connects you two. Something ignites on you and it’s the most intense orgasm of your life, you feel every nerve burning from everlasting fire, that transforms and transforms until it explodes in a supernova. You don’t have the strength to scream, so you whisper Alastor’s name like a filthy prayer. 

He looks up grinning like a devil. Something makes you open your eyes as you ride out the waves of pleasure. There’s so much blood, blood dripping from his lips, blood on his nose, blood cascading down his bewitching face mixing in a flowing current of red, it ends in a glistening red pool where you meet each other in immoral sin, so inviting you could jump in. It’s like what would happen if the killers had caught you, but twisted into wicked, ungodly pleasure, it’s almost worse. Because well, if you’re killed you’d be dead and would never have experienced this, but now you have and the ephemerality of this night crashes on you and you feel conned, betrayed. 

 He licks his lips and stares right at you, a doe caught in the headlights of his eyes, you almost cum again. 

Alastor feels delirious from the bloody mess in front of him, carnality so powerful it makes him insane, he needs to finish this. He needs to sink his cook deep into your slick cunt. Pushing himself up, he starts to position his cock on your entrance. He’s so tall, the shadows of his bloodied antlers cover you and hide the welcoming silver lighting of the moon. The stars look so different today, and the welcoming sight of a full moon looks merciless, devoid of warmth and hope.

“Women like you are not meant for mortal men. They cannot honor you, they cannot savor you, they cannot satisfy you. Once you take a bite of the forbidden fruit you understand your place. Pliant and submissive beneath me. To be ravished and tamed by something beyond puny mortality. You are made to me fucked, to be owned by the better man who defied destiny and transcended what the hands of fate enforced on him. You are Helen of Troy, tailor made to fit my cock, satisfy my thirst”

He teases your entrance with just the tip, making you greedly roll your hips towards him, a primal response to the ravishing words. Alastor laughs mockling at you attempt of getting him to fuck you on your terms, your time. You may not be aware of everything but by now you know you can’t outfox and fox on his own game. 

“please. please. PLEASE” you scream the last word, you can’t take it anymore. A second without him touching your body feels like an eternity. 

“Tsk. You look so pretty when you beg” the condescending compliment lands like music on your ears and he finally enters you. Inch after inch he spreads your tight walls open, practically breaking you. You understand now why people in times before yours had sex after battle. It’s the most rare and coveted feeling in existence, to greet imminent death, escape her fatal calling and then do the thing that undoubtedly proves you are alive. Only to meet her again at the finish line of carnal sensations and no rational thought. Primal need to feel, to live.

Alastor finally bottoms out with an animalistic growl, making your shiver under him. He fucks you at a merciless pace, he fucks you with haste, with urgency and abandon. He knows what he needs and he is going to take it. 

“Hoooooly FUCK Alastor” you scream. 

“There’s nothing holy here. Everything that’s holy has abandoned you. There’s only me, your wicked god who has you completely at his mercy, to fuck, to break” he takes it all out and enters you at once. You try so bad to look at him, to hold his piercing gaze with adamantine conviction but you can’t. It’s too much, overstimulation creeps on you and everything hurts. You shut your eyes. 

“Look at me. Fucking look at me or I will stop” it’s not an order, it’s a threat. You should be scared, you feel scared, but tonight fear is diesel to your desire, and the pain makes you enter a mind numbing stage. The lines of torture and relief blurring together until you can’t discern a thing, you feel. 

You do as you’re told. You look at him as he fucks you, thrusting like a mad man, obscene sounds reverberating throughout, you are being so loud you are sure they can hear you back on the village. The village, your cabin. You had a life before tonight. Will there be life after tonight?

You don’t have time to have an existential crisis because what Alastor does next gets your undivided attention. 

“You will look at the demon who is ruining you, fucking you. You are no immaculate maiden anymore. You are a common whore for the Radio Demon” your eyes widen at the revelation. He is not a vampire, he’s not the devil. The fact that he is a demon and not satan makes you even more mortified, like you’ve settled for less. Just a little demon is what it takes to completely undo you. 

Alastor keeps thrusting at a breakneck pace, feeling vindicated. He did exactly what he said he would do, he took the last fiber of comfort, of dignity away from you. He can see your  entire world shattering on your beautiful doe eyes, making you finally feel the right amount of horror on the edge of a rapturous orgasm. 

You feel true terror now, there was still a slimmer hope that he wasn’ evil incarnated, that he had a redeeming quality. After all, he saved you. Didn’t he save you? Or did you start something you are not even close to understanding? You feel terrified because there’s a demon fucking you, biting you, feasting on your blood and you fucking love it, you want it every night. You really took a bite from the forbidden fruit and ruined yourself.

“It’s too much, Alastor I can’t” the words leave your lips and feel like confession, like somehow if you admit your complete surrender it will absolve you of something.

“Too. Bad.” Alastor punctuates his point with delicious sharp trust after each word. He finally tainted you with his darkness and made you aware of it. He feels delirious, he feels like victory incarnated. Your moans grow louder and louder, now pleasure means pain, hell means rapture. Things that should not exist together making you feel the best you have ever felt. Tears spill from your eyes, the overstimulation something you’ve never felt before, mind numbing and life-altering.

In an act of paradoxical mercy, your demon lover rubs your clit and you’re out like a light. Your walls tighten around Alastor’s cock, and white hot pain, blinding red pleasure overcomes you. You feel like falling, you feel your literal fall from grace as your body tingles and burns with ineffable, forbidden pleasure. Alastor howls and cums inside you. 

You land on silky, comfortable, alluring darkness. 

-

The cool forest breeze greets your abused skin, it stings but feels soothing at the same time. Paradoxical, like everything from this night. Alastor holds you tight, cradling your head on his chest, petting your hair. He draws lazy circles on your hip bone, featherlight touch, careful and coy. You turn on your side to face him.

“Can you see it now? It’s beautiful, he’s so beautiful” your mind asks you. You agree.

You start giggling, laughing. It is also so funny.

“What’s so funny, little doe?” Alastor asks you, genuinely amused. He feels elated from this night. He feels satiated, contented. It’s a very rare feeling for him. 

“For a while I seriously considered you are an alien” you tell him, you can’t contain your laughter now. You are so silly. Alastor’s eyebrow shoots up, quizzical. He chuckles and indulges you. “Alien, is so mundane. You could never be an Alien, it’s way too easy”. What your giddy minds means is that now you know Alastor is anything but easy, actually there’s nothing like him. He’s something else. Something entirely different, a delicious mystery that creeps inside your heart, haunts you forever. 

You stop laughing when realization hits you.

“Will I ever see you again, Alastor?” you ask him, your voice failing, nothing more than a whisper. You feel the ephemerality of this night, you feel daylight closing, ruthless sun rising that ends this everlasting dream. 

Alastor stares deeply into your eyes, he sees your wanton desire, your trepidant expectations. “That depends entirely on you, my dear doe. It’s time to make a decision.” his voice is so soft it fucking hurts. 

You look at the fading moon on the horizon, the distant stars judge you, the earliest of birds sing for you. 

Yet from those starts, no light but rather, darkness visible.

-

You open your eyes, you feel impossibly rested. Your bed feels soft and you want to visit dreamland again, but the noise stops you.

Songbirds and blazing sirens mix together a cacophony of urgency. You get up fast, trying to remember little bits and pieces of the crazy dream you had and run to the big window across the room. 

You look down, you see ambulances, police cars, lab coats and tall guys in FBI jackets.

Something definitely happened here last night.

 That explains it then, the nature of your murderous dreams. The sirens creeped their way into your subconscious making that murderous, dreadful dream. You take a quick look and your hands and see nothing. Perfect, unblemished skin. 

It felt so real. Strawberry fields and blood. 

Your neighbor from across the street gestures manically at you from her window. 

Fuck, it must have been really bad. There’s a lot of people at your doorstep. 

Hurrying to put your robe on, you fly down the stairs towards the bustling crowd outside. 

You are dying to know what happened. You were always a vivid dreamer.

You reach the hall and open the door, a polite officer starts talking to you.

You don’t notice the old radio on your vanity, or the opaque darkness that followed you from the corner of your room to the world outside.

[midnightsnyx]

girl at home | mat barzal | part 5

pairing: mat barzal x fem!reader summary: you’re eighteen when you find yourself pregnant after Mat leaves for hockey. nearly eight years later, Mat finds out about your daughter and you have to deal with the consequences of not telling him about her.

warnings: swearing, angst, food, fluff, not edited word count: 2.3k authors note: it's my bday tmw and i am going out of town for the weekend so i wanted to get this posted!! also, i have no idea how pr management works so i def got everything wrong so pls don't yell at me lol i feel like this chapter is just like a roller-coaster that went off the tracks and blew up and someones trying to put it back together with tape from the dollar store so im sorry but i hope yall like it anyway and don't hate me pls <3 send your thoughts or come yell at me about this story bc I LOVE hearing from you guys!! It feeds my writing soul. thank u all for the love on this story so far and lmk if you wanna be added to my taglist. also thinking about doing some smau for this fic and wondering if you guys have any ideas or suggestions?

if you asked to be added to the taglist and didn't get tagged it's cause you didn't show up when i searched for you! so shoot me a msg and we can figure it out. also if you want to be added or taken off the taglist please let me know <3

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You didn’t think the situation with Mat’s statement could get any worse. You were already being pestered by your mom, your friends and even other parents at the day camps Nora attended. Mostly everyone knew that it was true that Mat was her father at that point so the statement caused questions to rise. Ignoring everybody’s opinions about it was easy but six simple words from Nora were what broke you. 

“I thought Mat was my daddy,” she said softly while eating breakfast one morning. She had been quiet since the day before but it continued when she woke up the next morning. You thought maybe she was just moody and tired but it ended up being much more than that.

It took you a minute to answer, trying to figure out where she might have heard or been told that. It wasn’t that surprising that she might have gotten the impression that he was her dad considering how much time Mat had been spending with the two of you or she overheard a conversation. Kids are very perceptive but you couldn’t see how anyone would directly tell her about the public statement and you had been very careful about what you said around Nora and told everyone else to do the same. 

Apparently someone didn’t get the memo. 

You had two options. You could lie to Nora about what was going on or you could explain it in the best way you could to her. Lying to your daughter was the last thing you wanted to do but figuring out the easiest way to explain it so she would understand was hard. How were you supposed to explain that yes, Mat is her daddy but he was a fucking idiot and told the world that she’s not even though he said he wanted to be in her life. It would have been so simple to take the easy way out but it wouldn’t have been fair to Nora so after she finished her breakfast, you sat her down. 

“You’re feeling a little confused, huh?” you asked, watching her fiddle with a loose string on her sweater. 

She nodded, still not looking up at you and not offering her thoughts. It was a bit alarming because she was usually a chatterbox, even when she was upset about something. She would let you know exactly what was wrong. 

“Who told you Mat was your daddy?” 

She finally looked up at you, and the tears threatening to spill from her eyes made you both angry and upset. You were ready to find whoever told her and scream at them but her answer stunned you.

“I heard you talking to Jaxy,” she whispered. “I wasn’t trying to listen but I was coming out to get some water and you said that you were mad at Mat.” 

She didn’t elaborate on what else she may have heard which was unnerving because you probably said a lot of things about Mat that night when Jax came over to talk to you about it. You hoped she didn’t stay long enough for your breakdown where you had cried for thirty straight minutes. 

She sniffled, wiping a couple tears away. “I don’t understand.”

Your heart broke but you still struggled with how to explain everything to her. Telling her in the beginning was probably a better idea but you were so caught up in your own thoughts and feelings, you ignored the person who should have been your number one priority the entire time. 

“Mat is your daddy, baby,” you said. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

I’m sorry I kept you a secret.

“How come everyone is saying he’s not?” 

Mat should have been the one to answer this question because it was his doing, but you hadn’t spoken to him since the night he was at your apartment and the two of you argued. He had texted you the day after but you ignored it because you didn’t know what you would say when given the chance.

“Well, sometimes people make mistakes and Mat said something he shouldn’t have,” you explained, hoping it was enough and it seemed to be enough at first but then she hugged you tightly.

“I love you mama,” she said and before you could reply, she quietly asked, “Do you think Mat loves me?” 

“I’m sure he does,” you told her and it took everything in you not to cry. 

. . .

Liana: dinner at our place @ 6. bring nora and don’t be late!!!

You’re tempted to decline the request and just stay home but you’ve been promising Liana and Nadia that you would actually visit instead of dropping Nora off and leaving like you’ve been doing. Avoiding Mat is becoming increasingly difficult. It’s been two weeks since he released the statement and a week since your conversion with Nora. She’s been asking a lot of questions, ones that you didn’t plan on having to answer so soon. You expected her to be angry with you for not telling her but she took your confirmation that Mat’s her dad with ease. 

So it didn’t come as a surprise when her first question was whether Mat would be at the Barzal household for this dinner. You hadn’t bothered to ask Liana, mainly because you knew it would definitely impact your decision to agree to go. 

“Did you know that Zoe’s mom and dad aren’t together either?” She says during the drive to the Barzal’s. 

You do know this but you humor her. “Really?”

“Yup. Zoe said she spends weekends with her dad and stays with her mommy during the week,” she explains and then moves on to a different topic. You’re a little curious why she would talk about her friends’ living arrangements but when you finally pull into the driveway, your question is answered. 

“Do I have to stay at Mat’s on the weekend?” She asks and if you hadn’t already parked the car, you would have hit the brakes. 

“No,” you say a little too quickly and sharply because she frowns. 

“How come?”

You don’t answer her question right away, getting out of the car and walking around to the other side. She’s already unbuckling her seatbelt by the time you open the door and she’s still frowning. 

“Just no, Nora.”

“But Zoe does!”

You can’t explain custody agreements to a seven-year-old so you say the first excuse you can think of. 

“He doesn’t live here,” you say, taking her hand and begin walking towards the house. She’s dragging her feet, clearly not happy with your response. 

“Do I have to call him dad?” 

“No.”

“Why?”

“Just ‘cause,” you say, stopping at the door and turning to her. Her arms are crossed and she’s giving you the look that says she won’t let up until you give her an answer she wants.

“Do you want to call him dad?” 

She pauses, looking down at the ground and frowning. After a moment she shakes her head. 

“No, but Miss. Jones says you’re not supposed to call your mommy and daddy by their first names ‘cause it’s disrespectful.” 

“It’s not up to Miss. Jones,” you say gently. “This is new, and you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

After a moment, she mutters a quiet “okay,” and then: “do you think Nadia has ice-cream for dessert?”

“Guess we’ll have to go inside and ask,” you reply and raise your fist to knock on the door but it swings open before you can. Liana is waiting on the other side with a big smile on her face. Nora runs straight to her and giggles when the older girl picks her up and swings her around. 

“C’mon in,” Liana says, ushering you inside. So far there’s no sign of Mat so some of the tension leaves your body. After putting both yours and Nora’s shoes aside, you make your way to the kitchen. Nadia is puttering around, juggling a million things but she still smiles softly when she sees you. 

“Can I help with anything?” 

“You can keep me company,” she says and points to a chair. “Sit down and update me on what you’ve been up to.”

You know that you can’t argue with her so you sit and chat idly with her. She doesn’t bring up anything to do with Mat and you’re not sure what to think about it. You almost slip up and ask if he’s going to be here for dinner but decide not to. You haven’t seen him around since you arrived, so he’s probably out. Maybe with a girl. 

Not that you care, obviously. 

Mike eventually pokes his head in the kitchen to greet you and ask how you’ve been. He offers to set the table but Nadia shoos him out of the kitchen, rolling her eyes fondly. 

“Don’t get married, they’re nothing but trouble,” she jokes but there’s a smile on her face that lingers even after her husband leaves. You always admired their relationship, and were certain that you and Mat would be like it some day but it wasn’t in the cards. 

Soon, Nadia calls everyone to dinner. Nora immediately asks why Mat isn’t here and there’s an awkward silence until Liana breaks it.

“He’s busy,” she tells Nora and that must be enough because she just nods and starts eating dinner. Nothing else is said about Mat but just as you’re all finishing dessert, you hear the door open and close and there’s only one person you figure it will be.  

Mat walks into the dining room, clearly caught off guard by your presence. Nora hops off her chair and darts over to him, wrapping her arms around his legs and starts chatting excitedly. He’s trying to give her all his attention but his eyes keep flickering to you. 

When Nadia and Mike get up to start clearing the table and Liana asks Nora if she wants to go watch a movie, you realize that the three of them planned this. It’s almost like you’re kids again, fighting about something stupid and needing his parents to help fix the problem. 

Mat looks at you a little helplessly when the room clears and it’s just the two of you. There’s no way you can yell at him with his family and Nora in the next room and you realize that was also probably planned. 

“Can we talk?” he asks and you really don’t want to, but you realize that eventually you’re going to have to talk to him so you nod. You follow him out the back door and the two of you sit on the porch steps in silence until you finally break it.

“Why didn’t you come to me about what PR wanted to do? We could have figured out something together.”

He shrugs, looking at the ground. “I didn’t think to ask you about it. I just wanted to fix everything before it got complicated. I wasn’t thinking.” 

“Yeah, no shit,” you mutter. “That’s something you’re great at. You don’t think before you do anything.” 

You jump when he stands up suddenly and turns to face you. He’s angry but so are you.

“No, fuck that. You can’t just expect me to do everything right, when a month ago, all I had to worry about was hockey. I can’t be number one dad overnight! You didn’t even tell me about her for six years!” 

You’re a bit taken off guard by his sudden outburst but you can do anger too.

“That is the exact reason I didn’t tell you about her, Mat. Hockey is always going to come first in your life,” you snap. “And I didn’t ask you to be a number one dad, all I asked was that you be sure you wanted to be in her life before you committed to anything because this is exactly what I was worried about.” 

He falters a little, probably not expecting you to return the anger. 

“I didn’t want to post what they asked me to,” he says, sounding defeated. “But I didn’t know how to say no. When PR tells you to jump, you jump.”

You’ve no idea how public relations in hockey works, it’s possible that they would have posted the statement without asking Mat but you’re so damn angry. You’re angry but you don’t know who you’re even supposed to be mad at now. 

“You should have come to me,” you say again. “That’s how co-parenting works, you know.”

His mouth twitches. “That’s what we were doing?”

You can feel the anger slowly dissipating. Mat’s shoulders aren’t as tense and he plops back down on the steps so you sit next to him, letting your shoulders and knees knock against his.

“Well, you are her dad,” you admit. “And she is very concerned about her future living arrangements.”

He looks at you a little confused but there’s a small smile spreading across his face. 

“Does she know?”

“Yeah,” you tell him. “She’s smarter than you expect sometimes.”

“She gets that from you,” he says, poking your arm.

You roll your eyes fondly. “Well she had to get her brains from someone.”

He huffs but it sounds more like a laugh. You watch him look at the ground, brows furrowed and deep in thought.

“I fucked up, didn’t I?”

Here’s the thing that a lot of people don’t know about Mat: he doesn’t forgive himself easily. It’s something you learned the hard way when you were younger and dating. 

So you know he will beat himself up over this until you forgive him. 

“Yeah, but we both did.” You bump your knee against his until he looks up at you. “We can fix it, but we have to do it together.”

He holds out his pinky finger. ”Co-parenting, right?”  

You hook your finger around his and nod, letting yourself relax for the first time in weeks. It’s going to take time, hard work, and you’re both going to have to learn how to trust and communicate better again but you're sure you’ll get there.

“Together,” you agree.

tag list: @literatureluster @dasiysthings @barzyblogbabe @diary-of-jj @heatherawoowoo @fallinallincurls @topguncultleader @shadowsndaisies @lovinbarzal @whatthepuckisgoingon @alilstressyandlotdepressy @teapartydreams @keiva1000

[logan-lieutenant]

shoutout to @escapentropy for this post and the brainrot rpf spiral i went into immediately after <3

anyway here is the fic about logan’s appearance on an instagram story and how alex may or may not have felt about it

The spaces between the stars

George knew something was wrong as soon as he saw the story.

For one thing, it was two in the morning. Not an abysmal time for anyone to be on social media, just abysmal for Alex. George still thinks it’s hilarious that Alex has screen time limits on his phone like an internet-addicted teenager, but he’s listened to enough lectures about the detriments of blue light and sleep cycles to bring it up anymore. And anyway, it’s not like Alex is any more responsive during the day. Over a decade into their friendship, and Alex is one of the worst texters George has ever met. If Alex isn’t texting back at 2 am, he definitely isn’t engaging in the cesspool of the internet. That had been a red flag in and of itself.

The story itself had been an even bigger hint: camera pointed straight up, showing a slightly blurry close-up of the night sky. If it was a constellation, George hadn’t known it; there was no tag, no caption, nothing. There also hadn’t been a hint of a horizon line or any indication of where the picture had been taken, but George hadn’t needed one.

He calls Alex a few minutes after he’d gotten the notification, and of course Alex picks up immediately.

“Get off the roof,” George says in lieu of a greeting.

Alex doesn’t say anything for a bit, leaving an awkward, staticky murmur on the other end of the line. Finally, he protests sheepishly, “I’m not on the roof.”

“You are,” George insists. “Don’t fuck with me. You’re at that little deck with the telescope and plants that no one’s watered in a month, and you’re not supposed to be there.”

Alex makes a sound halfway between a scoff and a laugh. “Would you believe me if I told you I finally paid for roof access?”

“No.”

Alex laughs again, but his voice sounded jagged and painful, rough around the edges.

“Come on,” George prompts. “You hate breaking rules. You only go up there when you’re stressed about something.”

“That’s…” Alex tries to begin, then trails off.

“Did you only post that star story cause you knew I would see it?”

The silence is enough of an answer.

George sighs. “Get off the roof. I’m coming over.”

“Really?” Alex’s voice is timid, almost a whisper. He sounds weak, like all the wind has been knocked out of him and he hasn’t had time to recover.

It hurts George just to listen to. “Yes, really. Someone needs to make sure you don’t engage in more criminal activity.”

“Fine, I’ll get off the roof!”

When Alex opens the door, he looks exactly how he’d sounded on the phone.

“Mate, you look terrible,” George informs him.

Alex rolls his eyes, then steps aside to let George in. “Thanks. Your commentary is always appreciated.”

George ignores the back talk. “Have you slept at all?”

Alex knots his fingers in his hair and pulls distractedly. He shrugs his shoulders, looking like he’s trying to curl into himself. “It’s not that late.”

“It’s late for you.” George steps forward and takes Alex by the shoulders, forcing him to stay still. “Alex.”

Alex struggles to meet his gaze. There are shadows under his eyes. Even under George’s hands he’s trying to fidget, shifting his weight, hands twitching at his sides.

“I didn’t come here to listen to you lie to me. You basically sent up the bat signal.”

That gets a laugh, Alex playfully trying to shrug George away. “Right. I forgot. You’re the British Batman. Who gets summoned by… stars.”

“You’re making me sound so poetic.” George claps him on the shoulder and pushes him gently in the general direction of the couch. “Sit down. I’m making us tea, and then you’re going to tell me what’s bothering you.”

“Is that an order?”

George looks over his shoulder at Alex’s smirk. “You know what? For old time’s sake, yes.” He finds a small stuffed cat toy on the counter and throws it at him.

When George brings in the tea, Alex is already surrounded by cats.

George laughs at the sight, Alex leaned back into the couch with two cats fighting for space on his lap and another draped lazily in some anatomically incorrect position over the armrest. “They gonna make room for me?” he asks, holding out one of the mugs.

Alex sits up straighter to take it, and one of the cats flicks its ears haughtily and strolls across the room.

“Your presence offends her,” Alex explains. “So yes.”

“I’m heartbroken.” A friendlier cat nuzzles George’s hand; he scratches it behind the ears. “You gonna tell me why you went up there?”

Alex looks away from him, slowly chewing his lower lip. He stares at the wall as if the picturue frames will tell him what to say. George waits patiently.

“Well, I should definitely stop,” Alex says at last, trying to laugh at himself. It falls flat quickly and he gives up. “I got in trouble for it, once, a few years ago. I think it belongs to only the top floor, not the whole building…” He boops one cat on the tip of the nose and it wrinkles up its face, swiping a paw over its eyes. He smiles at it. “Anyway, it’s one of the highest places in Monaco. You can see the stars better there than anywhere else– that I’ve found, at least… I don’t know, it just, it feels really peaceful up there. It helps me think clearly.”

George knows he’s not being given the whole story; Alex knows it too. George sips at his tea and says nothing. Alex doesn’t like silence; the longer George stays quiet, the more Alex will say just to fill the void. It’s not a very nice tactic, but letting Alex deflect and ramble and run away from his feelings isn’t helpful either.

Alex drinks his tea, pulling his sleeves over his hands and holding the mug close to his chest. “And I’ve got good memories, too… not like, that roof in particular– just, stars in general, I guess. That sounds stupid. Everyone has–”

“What’s the memory?” George asks softly.

Alex looks over at him then. He doesn’t say it out loud, but the gratitude is plain on his face, the shine in his eyes. Then he casts his eyes back down to the cats. “Last Christmas,” he begins “they did this video thing with me and Logan, just a bunch of questions, you know…” He waves a hand vaguely. “This interview thing. It was so silly, I don’t even remember a whole lot of it. But the thing way, the setup they chose was like this tiny inn in the middle of nowhere– I mean nowhere. And by the time we were done shooting it was night, because of course it was, and I remember we stepped out and there were just so many stars.”

Alex tilts his head back and looks at the ceiling, like if he reaches far enough into the memory he can bring the stars back with him. He takes a deep breath. “Y’know. Because there was less light pollution…”

“Yeah, so much gets washed out in the city,” George offers.

Alex nods. “Exactly. And I’ve been in like, less bright areas before, it had just been a while since I’d been able to see that many. And I remember I looked over at Logan cause I was gonna say something, like ‘Holy shit, it looks like we’re in space’… and he was just.” Alex stops, swallows heavily. He looks back into his tea, breathes out, watches the surface ripple. Then he leans over and places the tea, barely touched, on a side table. He rubs at his eyes and tries to pass it off as scratching an itch; George doesn’t call him out.

“He was just looking up at the sky,” Alex continues, voice softening with nostalgia, “and… and there was this expression on his face like I’d never seen before. He just looked so, like… fascinated. Enchanted.” He laughs a little, eyes far-away, and tucks his feet under him. One of his cats meows frustratedly at the change of position before settling down again. “I mean, he looked like a little kid. Like he’d never seen a night sky before, just smiling up at it… And I think I probably teased him in the moment. ‘Do they not have stars in America’, or… something.”

George feels a cat pawing at his shins and sits back. The cat jumps into his lap and turns to stare attentively at Alex. Even the animals are drawn in by the story, the way the emotions in Alex’s voice have started to fill the room like morning fog.

“But I kind of wish I hadn’t,” Alex adds, shuddering, “because I thought back after and I realized I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d seen him that happy.” His hand, in the middle of stroking a cat, falls limply to his side. “Relaxed. Not for the cameras, not playing anything off. There was just this moment where he was genuinely just happy about something. And I didn’t figure this out until later, but… I think it hit me so hard because I realized I hadn’t thought I was ever gonna see him like that again. Like, the season had been so tough for us, and especially toward the end it was really dragging him down, and I just sort of expected that. The way he used to look at everything like, no light in his eyes. Gone.”

George says quietly, “He never looked at you like that.”

Alex shoots his gaze over, focus sharpening to a razor-point. “Don’t,” he chokes out in a wavering, inflamed voice. “I’ve told you. You can’t make me… think like that.”

George puts down his tea so he can shift closer to Alex. “Mate, I’m just saying the facts. We’re in the same paddock. I know you know him better, but the rest of us aren’t blind. This season, when you two are together… he looks at you like–”

Alex puts his hand up.

George sits back, spreading his palms. “Okay,” he says quietly. “Too far?”

“Sorry.” Alex sniffles, then tries to hide it with a cough. “It’s just–” He nudges a cat off his lap so he can pull his phone out of his pocket. He scrolls through a couple photos until he pauses on a screenshot, then reaches out and shows it to George. “Have you seen this?”

George looks at the picture. “Not the original. I’ve seen it reposted, though.”

It’s the last thing Logan’s posted on his story, shared from someone named Zack Justice (George doesn’t know if he’s supposed to recognize that name) and it’s a picture of Logan. Playing golf.

The sun is shining. The sky is a perfect, picturesque blue. The green stretches on to the horizon, unbroken color that contrasts elegantly with the sky above. The horizon line is right at the halfway point of the image. It couldn’t be more aesthetic.

Logan isn’t too close to the camera, but he’s still recognizable. He’s also not wearing blue.

Alex takes back the phone but doesn’t turn it off. He stares at the photo, glassy-eyed, blue light throwing stark shadows across his face. His expression is lethargic, unreadable, but George has known Alex long enough to tell when he’s spiraling into his own thoughts.

Carefully, he takes the phone form Alex’s hand and flips it face-down onto the couch. An additional cat, seemingly from nowhere, plops onto the couch and sits between them, covering the phone with its tail.

Alex smiles, gentle and hurt. “Point taken.” He looks at his lap and twists his fingers together until another cat head-butts his hands. “This was the first sign of, like, anything. Sign of life, I guess. Since the… since Tuesday.”

“You haven’t talked since then?”

Alex shakes his head, and the motion is abrupt, almost violent. “Every message I send turns green, I… I think he blocked me.” His voice is almost completely shattered, words thick and effortful.

George doesn’t say anything. He just reaches over and rests his hand on Alex’s shoulder.

Alex finally loooks back at him and clasps George’s hand between both of his own.

“You miss him,” George murmurs.

Whatever chains Alex had been wrapping around himself snap and the tears fall like a storm. Dark and churning and unforgiving. He’s silent when he cries, teeth gritted, shoulders shaking.

George squeezes his hand, and Alex squeezes back. He’s clutching hard enough to hurt, but George doesn’t pull away.

Alex takes a deep breath and coughs on the exhale. He speaks like his voice cuts his throat on the way out. “He’s happier now, I think… I mean, he got away from it all. He got out.”

“It wasn’t you he was trying to get away from,” George insists fiercely. “He needs space.”

“Fucking hell, I know he needs space,” Alex spits out, voice rising. George tugs on his hands a little, shaking him, and Alex forces himself to take a deep breath. “But I need him.”

George stays very still.

He has to choose his next words carefully. He’s known about Alex’s feelings for months, had his suspicions long before that. He’s the only one who does, because Alex wouldn’t trust anyone else with the secret. He’d told George that, point-blank. And George had kept his word, obviously.

He’d worried for Alex, though. Has been whole time. Between Williams and Logan there was a ticking time bomb, and if George could’ve saved Alex from the shrapnel he would have. But hopes that it was just a phase, that it was just temporary infatuation that would fade over time, were dashed quickly. Whatever Alex felt was serious, and it was going to get him seriously hurt.

After the one confession they had barely spoken about it– not in explicit terms, anyway. As the 2024 season staggered on, their conversations started edging closer to the subject. Any mention of Logan was entangled with references and hints and what had practically become a code between them, all so Alex didn’t have to look the truth in the face. George wished it wasn’t happening; he wished his friend wasn’t setting himself up for heartbreak like this. But it wouldn’t have been fair to tell Alex to change and George would never hurt him like that anyway.

But this night, Alex’s talent for sidestepping reality is dead and buried. He’s hurt and he’s lost and his vulnerable, so George won’t say his own truth:

This was doomed from the start.

You’ve let yourself be hurt by things out of your control.

You can’t race with your head like this.

You need to move on.

Instead he only says, “He’ll come back to you.”

Alex releases one hand to nudge a cat closer to his chest. He lowers his head, voice muffled by the fur. “I wish I could believe you.”

[theo-raeken-appreciation]

got any theo fic recs?

of course!!! let me pull up my faves, linking them under the cut cause it might get long (also some fics are nsfw some aren't i didnt tag them all bc by the time i realized i had been through so many already)

Theo Raeken Centric (sometimes gen/sometimes w/pairings)

Why are Werewolves Always Teens? by Everlasting_mediocrity 

Crossover. In which Tony Stark is Theo Raeken’s biological father and they’re going to have to do some growing about it. Thiam. Ongoing.

i lost my heart under the bridge by infernal_gay_mess

"The Doctors said, years later, that Theo had taught them that true evil came from corrupting something truly good. What they didn’t tell him was that the best way to make someone into a monster was to convince them they already were one." Angst & Tragedy

blood is running deep, some things never sleep by likelightninginabottle 

Aka theo raeken’s mid-season six hot girl summer. Introspective. Thiam. 

a rose that won’t bloom by wormhusk

not theo centric, but a cute fic about stiles-scott-theo as kids and theo being scott’s first crush. thiam. 

pyrrhic victory of knowing yourself by painting_ethereal

a two part series of stolen memories, theo joining the mccall pack, leaving, and choosing to come back

even in the darkest places, flowers grow by strawberxi (Tupipsie)

a theo raeken-centric fic where he grapples with his sister's birthday, and the implication that he doesn't have to do everything alone. Thiam

On Theo Raeken and Manipulation by wormhusk

Theo Raeken Did Nothing Wrong 2k23. Not A Fic/Pure Meta

Thiam

Secondary Drowning by marrowbite(wingfooted)

in which theo is a selkie. 

hey i think he likes you (but honey, i do too) by fallingforboys

in which liam is oblivious and wants to help theo get a boyfriend. 

Im not ready to die yet, should i pray? (i’m wasting time, haunted by the ghost of you) by petitommo

the one where theo leaves for Florida. out of necessity, not choice. voicemails, missing liam, waiting–and going home. 

tell me no more secrets, i’ll tell you no more lies by likelightninginabottle

“You were attacked. It was self defense.” Theo. “Okay, but what if it wasn’t.” Liam

when oblivion is calling out your name, you always take it further than i ever can by likelightninginabottle

In which Liam is terribly high and completely smitten, Theo is allergic to emotions and totally whipped, Mason has the patience of a saint, and everybody wins, except for Stiles

when you crave someone (to be there at dawn) by likelightninginabottle

(In which, for once, Liam and Theo aren't oblivious, even if the pack very much is.) Post-Monroe, Pack in College, Thiam Being Shameless

burning bright red till the end (now you’ll be missing from the photographs by likelightninginabottle

MCD, Angst

You Missed, Dumbass by Sailorscout7

(OR 2 times Liam trying to kiss Theo ended in disaster and 1 time it mostly didn't)

a fire without a spark by lexisaurus

Liam asks are you alright? it never occurs to Theo that Liam could be asking him, too.

Commemoration, Cauterized by Ty_Winn_Roa

Meeting his parents for the first time in a decade is terrible enough without having to do it all over again. And again. And again. But Theo's never done anything halfheartedly.

Hunting Hearts by l_t_m

“My heart is missing.” Liam blinked. Theo’s way of saying ‘hello’ wasn’t encouraging.

no angels in this bleeding heart town by fallingforboys

“Please don’t make me do this,” Liam says, pleads. His jaw clenches and he squares his shoulders. Theo’s claws flick out.

Happiness is (where you are) by crier_emperor

in which theo gets a home and a hug. Angst. Getting together.

pride before a fall, wolves will keep you warm by likelightninginabottle

Liam comes out of the closet, in more ways than one. Or rather: his friends break him out. Cute, fluffy, and funny

look at the wonderful mess we made, we pick ourselves undone by likelightninginabottle

In which the supernatural does not exist. But Beacon Hills still went through a war, of which this is the aftermath. Liam and Theo pine for each other, but Liam thinks he cannot have Theo and so he dates other people. And yes. They are roommates. Mutual Pining, Jealousy, Misunderstandings.

your slightest look easily will unclose me by likelightninginabottle

Liam thinks about the people who left and how he is almost alright without them. Post-Canon.

just steps across the tower bridge by eneiryu

Guilt, injury, angst–Theo’s body is failing, and he’s hiding it from Liam. Happy Ending.

Use and abuse me ‘til I’m gone by THENINTH09

5 times Liam makes Theo bleed and the one time (two times) he doesn’t.

don’t you hear me howling, babe? by THENINTH09

Theo and Liam in Theo’s truck, after Gabe and the hospital. NSFW

Iron and Copper by TheOceanIsMyInkwell

Or: A witch grants Theo's wish to turn human for a day and be loved for who he is. Liam shows him just what that wish might look like.

drove him underground by justt_ppeachy

Liam and Theo, but they are Orpheus & Eurydice retold. It always ends the same.

so cruelly you kissed me by wormhusk

A series of two one-shots, one with liam realizing his feelings for theo and the second on theo

this love is difficult, but it’s real by wormhusk

a two part series of oneshots with thiam secretly dating, liam telling the pack, it not going well, and the aftermath

all sunny days are on by wormhusk

Remember the hunger games au? This is an alice in borderland au. A lot of people will die but not thiam. incomplete

the smell of smoke would hang around this long by wormhusk

theo quits smoking 

and in ever crowd, it's you i'm looking for by fallingforboys

in which theo is unfortunately very attractive and needs a fake boyfriend at a party--and oh look, liam is right there

Thiam Fics That Are Part of This One Orphaned Series So I Have Put Them Together 

this is why they shouldn’t kill off the main guy by wormhusk

 a first-kiss fic with theo angst and liam bullying theo into staying with him instead of his truck

and i remember thinking by wormhusk

a fic exploring the theo train track theory AKA where they talk about a past suicide attempt

Oh i love it and i hate it at the same time

Established Thiam, Theo gets his wisdom teeth removed.

256,000

The one where Liam calculates how many times Theo died down in Hell and has a panic attack.

cut it out then restart by wormhusk

Theo has a bad day and gives into old habits. Angst. Self-harm

argumentative antithetical dream girl 

it’s a pwp but I'm including it because it's the same ‘verse

i just wanna stay in that lavender haze by wormhusk

thiam get high and and play the 36 questions that lead to love and then have sex about it

and i wouldn’t marry me either

Liam has a plan to propose to his boyfriend. Theo thinks Liam is acting cagey

fighting in only your army

The skinwalkers want Theo back. No one reacts well.

are there still beautiful things

a witch’s curse makes Liam hate the one he loves most–his fiance. Angst.

i know my pain is such an imposition 

the boys finally get to go on their honeymoon. so of course it goes wrong.

long live the look on your face by wormhusk

Theo and Liam go to build-a-bear

he was sunshine i was midnight rain by wormhusk

Liam does a 30-day love challenge

Sceo

Shall I sleep within your bed by voices_in_my_head

In which Theo wasn't expecting to be rescued

fake my heart by LuthienKenobi

In which Theo is captured and a femme fatale all in one

gonna make you a believer by queerebrum

in which the battle is over, the Anuk Ite defeated, and Scott McCall can finally see things clearly–things like how he has been pretending he is not in love with Theo Raeken

Expelliaramus! by tabbytabbytabby

Gryffindor Scott and Slytherin Theo are secretly dating.

Sons of Monsters and Monster Sons by TheOceanIsMyInkwell

“i think,” theo says slowly, “my father tried to kill me when i was seven.” Sceo+Thiam, bc Theo is terribly in love with them both. Child Abuse Mention, as well as Mentions of sexual assault done to Theo by his Father. Theo did NOT have a happy loving childhood.

Unbreakable Heaven by tabbytabbytabby

Theo thinks he and Scott are FWBs while Scott thinks they are dating. Theo starts pulling away once he realizes he has feelings for Scott. Scott wonders what he did to make his boyfriend distant.

our hands dirtied by the other’s desire; i will declare my love with a slaughter by clementinecalls

When they lay in the grass and stare at the stars, Scott runs his thumb over Theo’s wrist. Feeling his pulse steady under his touch. He thinks about the sun in comparison to Theo. He thinks about how he was Icarus and he loved Theo just as he loved the sun — too close, too much.

Homeless Theo/Theo + Pack

Too Afraid to Follow Through by dangerouscoffeetheorist

for your melissa & theo needs, and theo being forced to join the pack against his will. 

wither under the iridescent glow of the sun, moon, and stars by fallingforboys

Theo digs the bullets out himself, using them to cauterize the wounds, and the air around him becomes hot and a little sticky with the smell of his flesh burning, but he ignores it.

He ignores it and saves himself, because that’s all he knows how to do. He saves himself because he knows that no one else would bother trying. (He’s wrong.) Thiam but mostly pack focused

Heart coming up my throat, think I’m getting worse at breathing by Multifandom_damnnation 

Jordan Parrish & Theo. Thiam

murphy’s golden rule: whoever has the gold makes the law by game_ender

Coach Finstock & Theo. In which Theo gets adopted by the Coach. Thiam

Vanlife Style! by onyxthroughtheages

In which Alec and Theo are bffs, Theo was raised in the sewers and so learns about TikTok scandals and instafame through Google, and mentions Liam in almost every TikTok he ever makes.

built a ship in the morning but the hull’s worn through by eneiryu

in which theo makes a deal with the pack: after Monroe, he gets to walk away. Thiam

waves on the ocean for the wavering kind by eneiryu

a two parter series. part one is where Theo leaves Beacon Hills with exactly the same things he came into it with: his truck, a duffel bag full of clothes, and the permanent taste of blood and grave dirt in his mouth. part two is argent’s pov. thiam

Fics That Deserve a Category of Their Own

You only feel one emotion at a time by likelightninginabottle

Theo doesn't feel pain. It makes him reckless. The pack doesn't notice, until they do. Incomplete. Pack Dynamics. Thiam. Theo’s Past, Theo’s Present, and Hopefully, Theo’s Future.

Take my heart (and put it somewhere safe) by not_carrying_on

​​The one where Theo reluctantly helps the pack capture Monroe, deals with the aftermath of his upbringing with the Dread Doctors, saves the lives of not so few people (despite the will to deny it until his dying breath), practically adopts Alec and pulls his head out of his ass.

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖓𝖑𝖎𝖙 [Teaser] 🔞

They told you to be careful with him, that he's much more than meets the eye, but you'd been convinced that you had him all figured out; all bark and no bite, just like any other big buff alpha you've met before. Oh how wrong you were.

Tags/Warnings: (here we go...) werewolf!kook, Alpha!kook, werewolf!reader, omega!reader, some angst, blood and fighting, we love drama, strangers to mates, soulmate AU, major injury, hurt & Comfort, fluff, Primal Play, slight powerplay (mc fights for dominance but looses), biting, rough manhandling, Dom!Jungkook, protected sex (an implant is mentioned we practice safe sex even in our imagination after all), Size kink because it's me writing this get over it, strength kink because it's me writing this get over it², spitting oops, spanking oops², mean dom kook, scratching oops³, orgasm control, knotting oops⁴, happy ending Yay

Length: unsure, approx. 5 chapters, ~2k words each.

A/N: Hi hello look it's technically not a hybrid fic. Also yes this teaser contains partial smut so please do not read this at church or your mom's birthday thanks.

🌘.━━━━━━━━━━.🌕.━━━━━━━━━━━.🌒

"Hm, but I'll play with you, won't you like that, hm?" He hums into your ear, and you melt underneath his words, easily nodding at his proposal, because you've waited way too long for this.

He's finally made his move, and you're gonna enjoy every last second of it.

"You think I haven't heard you talk to Jimin about me, don't you?" He suddenly brings up, inked arm reaching over your thigh so his hand can cup your heat- harshly so, forcing your body upright even, and you can't help but mewl at the way it puts pressure on your aching core. "You think I don't know how you yap about me to your friends hm? How you call me nothing but what? A 'bitch in heat', wasn't it?" He recalls, and you whimper a bit because you did call him that.

You called him a lot of other nasty things, and you do regret it a little. Just a tiny bit though. Or maybe a lot.

"Yeah well-" you huff impatiently, throwing your head back over his shoulder. "-You're all talk and nothing more." You complain. "You'll just- you just wanna fuck me and then toss me aside like everyone else!" You tell him with a slightly angry bite to your tone, and he clicks his tongue, fingers of his effortlessly opening the buttons of your shorts.

"Stupid omega-bullshit." You blame, hips moving impatiently as you curl your toes from the sensation. He shakes his head.

"And yet you let me." He chuckles, and you want to cry. Because you do let him fuck you over like this, right now. You do, with full knowledge of the consequences after. But you also want him, because he's got these.. glimpses of something you've never had before.

These moments of actual happiness, actual care and gentle adoration- something similar to the love everyone always gushes about around you, the thing you've never quite experienced before. "Why, I wonder." He asks you, while his fingers easily dip in between your legs, slick making it easy for him to move around.

"I think you know why." He shakes his head however, free hand moving to pull you up properly against his chest again, perched up on his thigh, legs spread open while your shorts and underwear pool at your ankles. "You know exactly why you let me, and why I'm doing this in the first place." He offers, and you don't answer.

Cause you're not sure. If it's not your omega hormones, then what? Is he going to come at you with some fated soulmate bullshit?

"You've got me tangled around your fingers, darling, and you don't even know it." Jungkook tells you with ear amusement in his tone, voice vibrating against your back. "Your body is calling out to me, and only me, isn't it?" He wonders, two fingers dipping inside you, finally giving you something at last. "You crave me, and can't bear the thought of anyone else touching you like this." He explains, while he leans in to let his lips run over the skin near your ear, searching for where your scent is strongest. "You feel empty without my touch, cold without my presence, lonely without my eyes on you." He goes on, and you want to cry out of frustration because first of all how does he know, and second of all why can't you fucking cum?!

"You know I'm right." The alpha wolf tells you. "Because I feel the exact same things." He offers.

"Wha-" you start, before you're interrupted by a specific motion of his fingers inside you, legs kicking out.

"Dont act so surprised." He mumbles against your skin, watching from above how you squirm in his grip, arm holding you close while the other plays around with you. "Its not like I'm hiding anything from you or anyone else." Jungkook chuckles. "Not like you, that is." He teasingly bites at your earlobe, making you shudder.

You're absolutely boneless in his grip right now, close to crying as he keeps your final high always a breath away.

"You're testing my patience, darling." The wolf continues, really making sure you know he's truly playing with you. "One moment you want me, the next you don't. Who's really playing a cruel game here, I wonder?" He accuses, and now you're really close to tears, but for different reasons.

"I dont-" you start, moving your legs in desperation. "- Wanna talk 'bout that now.." you whine, and he clicks his tongue.

"You don't ever want to." He almost growls. "And I'm sick of it, darling." He says, the pet name said almost like a threat, harsh and sharp. "You either talk-" he starts, and you're sweating at what cruel thing he's got in mind. "-or I'm leaving you."

And you know that by leaving, he's not only talking about his hand between your legs.

And that- the prospect of him leaving you alone- finally breaks the floodgates, making you cry.

Because you dont want him to leave.

Not anymore.

[goldenbuckyyy]

PARALYZED

Summary: Your mind is making you believe things you shouldn’t.

Pairings: Harry Styles x fem!Reader, Fem!Reader x OC, Mentions of HS x OC

Word Count: 4kish

Warnings: DOMESTIC VIOLENCE AGAINST PARTNER, mentions of blood, slapping, tugging, and previous events of D.V. Also being gaslit, believing something you shouldn’t, allures to depression, anxiety, PTSD from D.V events.

PLEASE DO NOT CONTINUE IF ANY OF THE ABOVE WARNINGS ARE TRIGGERING FOR YOU.

A/N: First off, I am so sorry I’m barely posting part 4! I know it’s been a long time since I posted part 3, but I was in a funk about this short series and I had no idea what to do with it! I’m thinking since it’s such a heavy topic, it felt almost draining, but.. here it is! And I hope you all enjoy it. 🫶🏻 thank you for supporting me and loving my work!! I’m also tagging the people that commented on the last part! Song Inspo: “Paralyzed” by NF

All my mistakes are my own. Please do not repost or translate my fics on any other site nor this one.

I appreciate any likes, reblogs, messages, and interactions. Please message me your thoughts!!! It fuels me!

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Two weeks. 

It’s been two weeks since you’ve been home since your accident. 

Accident. 

The word felt weird in your brain. It felt weird in your mouth. It felt weird even thinking about it. 

Because the more you thought about it… the more your brain tried to remember the events that had happened to you and the more pain it caused you. 

You had spent the entire time locked up in your home. 

Absolutely terrified to go outside. To see your friends. To see your family.

You hadn’t even seen Harry and it wasn’t for his lack of trying. He called. He texted. He even came to the house when he knew Asher would be at work. He’d stay outside for hours in his Range Rover and you’d secretly watch him from the window upstairs that he didn’t know had the perfect view of him. 

And he looked just as rough as you felt. 

But you couldn’t find it in yourself to speak to him. Let alone see him. 

Sometimes.. sometimes you’d cry sitting against the front door as you listened to Harry talking to you from behind it. 

But you would simply just text him to leave you alone and that you couldn’t speak to him anymore. 

He sent you so many messages daily and it made you feel guilty. Guilty for shutting him out after he was there for you.  Ashamed for what you had done to Asher. And terrified because you didn’t want anything to happen to Harry. The more you thought about what had happened to you… the more it made you afraid of Harry getting hurt because of you. 

You just felt so horrible. So ashamed. So guilty. So gross. 

You couldn’t even bring yourself to record anything for your socials. 

You had been posting old drafts that you had saved for a rainy day and you feared that your followers were slowly realizing something was going on. But you ignored the feeling and persisted with your day to day life. 

Well, you were trying. 

Your body still aches. You still felt incredibly sore, but it was slowly getting better. 

The swelling around your face had gone down and the bruising was now a greenish/yellowing color. You still felt horrible. You felt hideous and ashamed. 

You didn’t know why, but you felt so ashamed of yourself. 

And you were terrified of Asher. 

You couldn’t even look at him. He had gone on with his day to day life after you had been released from the hospital. He tried to be there for you, but he could tell something was wrong because you wouldn’t let him touch you. 

You were so scared of him and you didn’t know why. You kept having nightmares of ‘the accident’ and the more and more you dreamt of it… the more the person resembled Asher. The more you saw the figure in your mind… the more their features twisted into Asher’s. 

Those dark eyes turned into angry blue ones. The messy black hair in your dreams turned into bright blonde. The blurry jaw turned sharp and all the features soon morphed into Asher. And it terrified you. 

Had it been Asher who had done this to you? 

The more you thought about it… the more those muffled words the person yelled turned into words yelled at you by Asher. 

The more you think about it the more your breathing starts feeling restricted because you can almost feel the way his strong hand was pressed against the base of your neck. The way he was physically choking you against the wall and how you cried to him, begging him to let you go, but he never did. 

Silent tears fall down your cheeks as the memories pile into your thoughts. You didn’t want to believe it. 

You couldn’t believe it. 

You grip onto your shoulders as you hug your knees to your chest and the cold bathtub feels good on your naked skin. But you feel hollow inside.. almost empty. 

The water surrounding your naked body is cold and your skin is breaking out into goosebumps. But you can’t find it in yourself to get out of it. 

You feel as if you’re drowning in all of your emotions with your heart pounding in your ears. Trying to find the meaning of why he did this to you. 

Why would he leave you with these scars inside of you that will never heal? 

You know what you did was wrong. So wrong. That’s why you hadn’t spoken to Harry in two weeks, but did you honestly deserve all of this? 

Maybe you did. 

Maybe you did deserve this. 

You did this. You cheated on him. You hurt him first. You destroyed him first. He just got even. 

The annoying little voice in your head kept repeating those sentences to you and you were starting to believe it. 

You let out a shaky breath as your body shakes with it. You slowly start to get out of the bathtub, your body feeling weak, and you know you look like shit. 

You had been feeling so nauseated and disgusting. You couldn’t keep anything down, but you kept trying. 

You obviously haven't been eating right and your body is showing it, but you avoid yourself in the mirror and dry yourself off in the dark closet. You pull on an oversized jumper and matching bottoms. You braid your wet hair into a braid and let out a deep sigh. Your chest feels heavy. 

You sit for a second, letting your eyes slowly go up, and you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Your dark under eyes and hollow cheeks are enough to make you instantly look away. The bruises you still hold make your eyes sting. The fading handprint marks on your neck make you cringe. You close your eyes quickly and curse at yourself. 

You slowly make your way to your bed, putting your phone to charge, and slipping under the covers. 

And at that moment, Asher walks into the room in his work suit. His eyes immediately find you and you freeze in the bed. 

You wonder if he knows that you know it was him.  

Was it him? 

It was. 

His eyes never leave you as he bends down in front of you. You grip onto the covers around you and hold your breath when his fingers caress your face. 

“How are you feeling?” He asks with sincerity in his voice and warmth in his eyes. And you wonder how he could have ever laid a hand on you. 

“I’m okay,” you reply in a whisper and try to not shake underneath his touch. 

Why are you afraid of him? He was upset and you deserved it. 

“I’m glad,” he says as he quickly kisses your forehead and then goes into the bathroom. He shuts the door behind him and you let out a shaky breath that you were holding in. You wipe the wet kiss he left on your skin and then when you hear the shower start, your body relaxes into the bed. 

Then your phone vibrates on your nightstand. 

Your entire body runs cold and you quickly get it, jogging out of the room, and running downstairs. 

You step outside into your patio and answer your phone. The cold air hitting your face and making you instantly shiver.  

“You have to stop calling me,” you whisper immediately when you put the phone to your ear. Your heart thumps rapidly inside of your chest. 

You hear a small sniffle from the other side of the call and your heart tightens. 

“Sun..” 

You clench your eyes tightly and try to even out your breathing, “Harry. I’ve told you to stop calling me. You.. you can’t call me anymore. Whatever we had, it’s done. It-it’s over.” 

Even if your heart is screaming at you to let him back in. To ask him to come save you. To save you from Asher. To save you from yourself. 

“Just please tell me why you’re still there! He hurt you! He did this to you. Why don’t you believe me?!” His voice is filled with anguish, disbelief, and he sounds absolutely devastated. 

Because you can't admit that he did this to you. Because you deserve everything he did. Because you made the biggest mistake when you slept with Harry again. Harry doesn’t want you anymore. 

You pinch the bridge of your nose as an uneasiness settles into the pit of your stomach. “What am I supposed to do, Harry? I-I don’t even know if it was him! I feel crazy! I feel insane! I-I feel insane for the way my brain is slowly making images of him doing this to me! How could—he didn’t,” you start pacing your backyard, wet grass tickling your feet, “How could he have done this to me?” You silently beg him for an answer. 

You weep silently as he asks, “You remember?” 

You silently groan and wipe your tears away in a rush. 

“I don’t know what I remember! I-I don’t know what’s real or what’s fake. I just know that you need to stop calling me,” you demand as you quickly end the call and sit down on your patio chair. Trying to relax your heart rate as the ugly images rush in your brain. 

You clench your eyes tightly together, your hands grasping at the roots of your hair, and you let out a little whimper. 

Stop crying. You deserved it. 

You slowly start to work on your breathing, your entire body shaking with feelings of anxiety and desperation, and you lean back onto the chair. Letting yourself inhale deeply and calmly. Your eyes are still closed as you try to relax. 

“Y/N?”

Asher’s voice startles you which makes you flinch, which causes you to jump in the chair, your hands gripping onto the arm rests in a panic, and gasping deeply. Your eyes go wide in fright and you see Asher standing in front of you in only his pajama pants. His blonde hair is wet and messy. 

“Hey, it’s just me.” He coos at you, leaning down to watch you, his cold hands covering your own, and you try not to snatch them back. 

He notices your hesitation and he frowns. 

“Why are you outside?” His voice suddenly turned cold. 

“I just needed some fresh air,” you lie as you try to speak clearly and without any shakiness. 

Because your mind won’t stop trying to tell you about what happened. 

His eyebrows furr and his lips go tight. 

“You need to come inside before you catch a cold,” he demands. His hand tightens around your wrist and he basically tugs you onto your feet and drag you inside. 

You yelp loudly, “Asher, what are you doing? Let go of me!” 

He loves you. He wouldn’t hurt you. Would he? 

He already did. 

His hand only grips tighter around you as he drags you into the kitchen. 

The only place you had been avoiding since the accident. Your heart rate immediately goes sky high, confusion runs through you, and you beg, “Asher.. wh-what are you doing? Let me go, please.” 

Fear runs through your body when he shoves you into the kitchen stool and he stands in front of you. 

“Since when do you remember?” 

Your mouth goes dry as your eyes go wide, “Remember what?” 

He rolls his eyes, crossing his arms across his chest, and his dark eyes turn to you. “Let’s just stop this game where you pretend you don’t remember what I did to you and why I did it to you.” 

“I…I don’t—I don’t know…” 

You look down to try to avoid his hard stare and start fumbling with your fingers. A feeling of uneasiness surrounds you. 

His hand slams onto the countertop, the loud bang making you jump, and tears fill your eyes. Because you’re terrified. Your lip quivers in fright. 

“Stop fucking lying to me!! You’ve been lying to me for years! Saying you and Harry are over! That-that nothing was going on between you guys! That it was over! It was never fucking over!! You kept fucking him behind my back and I want to know why!” 

His hands grip your arms tightly, tears falling down your cheeks as you try to avoid his eyes, and he grabs your chin in his hand. 

“Stop fucking crying and tell me why you kept fucking him!!” He roars at you as angry tears run down his face, chest heaving in rage, and he looks terrifying. 

You cry into his palm, “I-I d-don't know why! It-it just happened, I s-swear!! Please, Asher! Please believe me! It only h-happened a couple times and—-“ you whine as his grip tightens around your chin and pain shoots all over your body from it. 

“So, who’s the father?” 

What? 

His question makes your tears halt, you suck in a deep breath, and your hands immediately go into his wrist to try and pull him off of you. Your eyes staring into his own in shock, “What are you t-talking about?!” 

Father? 

He shoves you off his palm and you steady yourself in the chair again, watching him, and trying to stop more tears from falling. He walks around the kitchen, shaking his head, and he lets out a chuckle in disbelief. 

“Asher!” You cry out, standing up this time even though you are shaking from head to toe, and you feel completely afraid of him. You have to know what he meant. 

“What are you talking about?!” 

He turns to look down at you, his eyes roaming your body, and he stops at your belly. You flinch under his attention, wrapping your arms around yourself as if you’re trying to protect your body from him, and he moves closer to you. 

“I told the nurse from the hospital that I’m your fiancée and she told me that you’re pregnant.” You gasp loudly, covering your mouth as sobs break through you, “The only reason why they told me was because they were about to tell you after they checked your blood work again to make sure, but I begged them not to say anything. Saying something about how it would be too much for you too soon.” He rolls his eyes at your sobs and continues, “I had to practically beg on my knees for them not to tell you, but you were beaten up so bad that they felt bad for you.” 

He leans down to look into your eyes as you try to back away. 

“Little did they know it was me who did it to you,” he whispers, “but then I found out you’re pregnant. And I admit.. I did feel a little bit guilty. But then I felt pissed. Because I don’t even know if the baby is mine. Do you?” 

You whimper as he gets closer to you, your arms wrapping tighter around your body, and you look down to your feet.  

“You did this to me,” you sob out in a whisper, finally admitting it out loud, and you feel your shoulders start to shake. 

He suddenly grabs your neck and in an instant without even hesitation, you react by slapping his face hard. The loud smack startles him as an angry groan rages out of his chest and you instantly retract backwards, fumbling and tripping on your feet to the floor. 

Why would you hit the man who loves you?

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Don’t touch me, I’m sorry! Please don’t hit me!” The words fly out of your mouth at a rapid speed as you quickly scatter into the corner of the room into a ball, trying to shield yourself from him with your arms, and your breathing picks up instantly. 

Asher’s quick steps allow him to reach you in an instant, his big hands swallow your wrist, and he pulls you to your feet. You stumble into his embrace as he holds you tightly against his body. 

His free hand tugs into your hair, pulling at it by the roots and he laughs when you let out a pained whine, and tears spring out in the corner of your eyes, and you’re frozen in his hold. 

He’s pulling your hair down so that you’re looking up at him, his tight hold doesn’t let you move an inch, and his white teeth are covered in his own blood from the hard hit you gave him. 

“Are you scared of me?” He questions as he slowly caresses your face. 

You let out a low whimper as you watch him, scared to even breathe. 

“Why would I ever hit you? You’re my fiancé and I love you,” his voice is steady and cynical. You gulp down the lump in your throat as your lips quiver. 

Your body is aching already from his tight hold and you wish you were braver. 

“I would never hurt you again. Don’t you trust me?” he whispers into your neck as he starts kissing down your jaw. You shiver at his touch and don’t move. 

“Isn’t that right? I would never hurt you again. I’m sorry I ever touched you like I did before. I was only upset. You forgive me, right?,” he whispers into your mouth as his lips hover over yours and he slowly kisses you. Fear is etched into every single fiber of your body and you don’t close your eyes as you watch him kiss your lips. 

You let out a shaky breath as you move your lips against his as you try and think of what to do. How would you even get out of this situation? 

He’s taller than you. He’s stronger and faster than you’ll ever be. You don’t think you’d be able to make it far. You don’t think you’d make it out the door without him catching you. 

“And now you’re carrying my baby. I’m not ever going to hurt you again,” he whispers into your mouth as you cry silently. 

What are you going to do now?

Harry couldn’t live with you. 

He couldn’t eat. He couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t fucking think without you. 

He couldn’t even fucking breathe without you. 

His chest hurt from your absence in his life and he was trying so fucking hard to help you. But you wouldn’t let him in. 

He tried calling, he tried texting, he tried staying outside of your house to get you to talk to him, but you just wouldn’t. He didn’t want to force you to remember and he didn’t want to physically take you away from your home. 

He couldn’t do that to you. But he was terrified every single second of the day. He didn’t know what to do. 

He tried talking to your family and seeing if they had spoken to you or seen you, but they said they hadn’t. They said you messaged them every day, but only simple worlds that you were okay and that you were recovering. And that you were tired and needed to be alone. 

It was killing Harry. Physically, mentally, and emotionally. 

He was torn about what to do. Because he didn’t know what the fuck to do. How was he supposed to just take you away from your home? It would be basically kidnapping. 

But he was scared that Asher was going to hurt you again. How was he supposed to know if he didn’t already? 

He just wanted you to be okay. He just needed to see you. He just wanted to be with you. 

He’d protect you. He’d love you. He’d keep you safe. 

If only you’d let him. 

And now you weren’t even speaking to him. You kept telling him to leave you alone and that everything that had happened between you two was a mistake. 

How was he supposed to believe that? You are the love of his life. 

He couldn’t give two fucks about Vivian and Asher. 

Matter of fact, he called off his engagement with Vivian the second he got home from the hospital and she was out of his home the next day. She said she knew it was too good to be true and apparently fucked off to Paris. 

Harry couldn’t bring himself to care because he was too worried about you. And he knew what he was doing wasn’t healthy. But what else is he supposed to do? 

Kidnap you? 

Take you away from your home and keep you in his? 

Keep you in his home until you remember what Asher did to you? And make you leave him? 

Maybe he should. 

Harry’s eyes started burning as tears filled the brim of his eyes and he stumbles out a loud, frustrated sigh, because he’s so tired. He’s so fucking tired of crying! 

He’s so upset at himself for not doing anything. He’s pissed off at the world. He’s pissed at himself. He’s pissed off at Asher for ever touching you and he’s pissed off at your brain for making you forget. 

He wants to kill Asher. He wants to beat him to a pulp. He wants to make him hurt the way you hurt. 

But how is he supposed to do that when you still believe he’s the golden boy you used to love? 

Harry knows he’s not supposed to call you. He knows you probably won’t answer. You never do. Well, usually. But he misses your voice. He needs to hear your voice. He begs god that you remember and that you ask him to come for you. Please. He needs this. 

He clicks on the first contact in his favorites list and his breathing almost hitches when he hears your voice. 

“You have to stop calling me,” he hears your sweet voice whisper into the phone. His heart tightens in his chest. 

He sniffles as he feels his lips quiver and he frowns, “Sun…” 

“Harry. I’ve told you to stop calling me. You.. you can’t call me anymore. Whatever we had, it’s done. It-it’s over.” 

He can hear your strangled breathing on the other side of the phone. His heart is thumping rapidly at your words. He pinches the bridge of his nose. 

“Just please tell me why you’re still there! He hurt you! He did this to you. Why don’t you believe me?!” He yells into the phone trying not to get too upset. But he feels so much pain right now. He feels devastated. He just needs you to believe him. Why don’t you believe him? 

He clutches his own chest as if he’s trying to console his own heart from the pain he’s feeling. 

“What am I supposed to do, Harry? I-I don’t even know if it was him! I feel crazy! I feel insane! I-I feel insane for the way my brain is slowly making images of him doing this to me! How could—he didn’t.. How could he have done this to me?” 

Harry listens to your rapid words and he aches for you. All he wants to do is take away everything you’re feeling. He wants to take away all your pain. 

He begs god to give it to him instead. He can handle it. He can take it.

You can’t. He doesn’t know if he can save you from this. He wants to save you. And then it clicks. 

He silently gasps when your words click in his own brain. 

“You remember?” 

He hears you groan into the phone before you speak again, “I don’t know what I remember! I-I don’t know what’s real or what’s fake. I just know that you need to stop calling me.” 

Then, the line goes dead. 

Harry stares at the phone in shock. His mind reels a million thoughts every second. What should he do? 

He doesn’t even think before he shoves on some shoes and goes into his Range Rover. 

He’s going to save you. Even if it kills him. He’s going to take you away from Asher. 

And he hopes you forgive him for not coming sooner. 

Tag list: @yellowtrain28 @sarcas-latte @st-ev-ie @ingrid-ingrid-ingrid @cherry01 @writinghost @that-daydream-look @marzhshaim

[bronx-bomber87]

Hello there lovely Fandom. Three eps in already what a trip. Once again did my best to keep this brief, concise but hitting on stuff as I watched it. Given up on the gif library till the summer so just my handmade ones till then ha lets get going.

6x03 Trouble in Paradise

Mmmm hello jammy's Tim I love you so. Asking her if she’s slept at all? Looking too damn attractive leaning against her door frame. She also looks adorable in her morning attire as well. Poor Lucy so stressed about the oral exam and friggin Primm. What a dick throwing out her cookies.

God I love Tim trying so hard to control her spiral about it. Saying she can only control herself. Trying to pry the highlighter away LOL He is giving her solid advice and she just isn’t about it lmao Poor man. I get it when I’m in my own anxious neurosis I’m same way as Lucy.

Tim tapping out knowing she won’t take a break. Knowing a lost cause when he sees one. I love her only doing so when he gives up. Chasing after her man and the shower he’s gonna take. Heh Hello shower sex. Welcome back. That’s a good break Lucy haha I'm jealous. Mmmm Tim is a glorious study break and stress reliever. I can't wait for the fic's spawned out of this moment.

How did Lucy end up in a room with Smitty practicing her oral exam? LOL He doesn’t have the worst idea about Primm have to say....Tim getting distracted by Lucy’s practicing with Smitty in the other room when he should be focusing. Loved this.

Knowing he needs to intercede when he can but barks at Celina to set up the shop first. Yum. Smitty giving her the details on Primm lmao Lucy getting excited cause she’s a dog person too haha Me too Luce me too. Tim interrupting asking WTF is going on? I’m dying.

Smitty says he’s helping her with her exam. So proud of himself. Tim asking her if this falls in line with not over preparing? It does not... Lucy deflecting saying it's Smitty though. Lmao poor guy. Tim forcing her to take a break with him and Celina. Love this. The birth charts comment oh Timothy I love you so much.

Heh I’m going to love this trio I can already tell. Also Tim saying ‘Juarez’ getting me all in my feels. God will always love Eric’s inflection makes me all feral. Lucy watching from the back seat with affectionate heart eyes. This is gonna be good.

Lucy of course brings up Aaron and how awkward it currently is. Tim immediately pulling over and scolding her I’m rolling. Lucy isn’t wrong he didn’t say boys LOL Be more married you two my god. Adoring this ep so much. Getting back to their banter in this one and I'm here for it.

Mmm loving that Metro Call sign. Idk why it's so attractive to me but it is. Love Tim and Lucy side-barring about this dude and his "Amnesia." They are Co-T.O.'ing in this episode and I'm loving sfm. Also always love me a height difference shot. Look at them. Good stuff.

Tim’s being utterly over this guy is hilarious as they interview him. (Lack of person space too. Forever love this) Eric killing with the expressions per usual. Lucy of course has the reins for this interview cause Tim wants to pop this guy ha. Classic Tim/Lucy. She is the empathetic one and Tim is doubtful af. 'Grumpy x Sunshine 'at it's finest in this moment.

It is delightful to watch Lucy tag along while he’s in T.O. mode. She is enjoying herself haha The heart eyes as she watches him in action making my shipper heart happy. Although her stepping in when he’s sweating Celina is too hilarious. God I love we are in this place with them. She can step in and gives Celina a break and Tim won't eat her.

Then she continues on to give him crap for not giving her any praise. Wifey being extra wifey in this moment. Oh my word their banter after Celina leaves. My heart. ‘Have I not softened you at all?’ Oh you have Lucy. The man went from granite to butter. Just continually shows you Lucy was always different. He doesn't treat any other boot like he did her.

Oh my god he looks sinfully delicious getting dressed while she’s waking up. Scruffy and in a black shirt. I’m fanning myself. Oh my lord. I wanna climb that man like a damn tree. Those buttons are meant to be ripped apart and off him. Phew lord. What a view to wake up to. Also never be over him just always having stuff at her place. Basically living together *screams into pillow* That sweet smile of his too good lord I'm faint. God he loves her so much. Just exudes out of this man in the smallest ways like this.

That black shirt he’s buttoning up mmmm making all kinds of feral with seeing part of his chest. He is so confident as he speaks about her resting. No regrets letting her sleep in. I bet you he watched her sleep for a bit before getting ready fully*happy sigh*. My god the looks he gives her when she thanks him. I cannot. This was such a lovely moment till she gets a text her test was in 20 minutes…..

Poor Lucy of course she’s the last one in. This made me so angry to watch her waiting. Hate this Primm putz so much. Stresssssssss watching this entire scene. Oh my lord. Hate Lucy having to defend herself to this prick. Of course he brings up the 6x01 crime scene bleh. I think she defended herself pretty well IMO. I was on edge and anxious as I watched this unfold. Feeling sick for her and angry too. Her career has been exemplary. Wanted to protect her from this absolute BS assault on her.

This scene GUTTED me. The music plus Melissa's expression I wanted to cry for her. Hug her. I knew when Grey walked up it wasn't good news. Ughhhhhhhh 17 blooody 17... I'm so angry for her it’s insane. What a shit Primm is. Like that man didn't benefit from that 5 player trade she did. My rage knows no bounds for her in this moment. Melissa's conveying so much in this moment. Well done madam. Nolan gets everything handed to him she fights tooth and nail and gets screwed for helping the man she loves out. I’m livid for her. Sure the depths of my anger will be more detailed in my summer review. For now I want punt Primm into the sun.

17th sucks a lot. If that score is combined with her written. Maybe she did over prepare. Or it's a mixture of that and her Oral not going well due to Primm. Either way it sucks. I will say I love this puppy of a man. He wrote a 7 on the award afterwards. Just to make her laugh. My damn heart. Upped his romantic game so much for her. He got this BEFORE she passed. So convinced she would be number one.

Look at the smile on Tim's face as he hands her it. He's so happy he's made her laugh. Even before they were together he always took it upon himself to make her feel better. He has sharpened that skill ten fold since they got together. Her Metro joke is cute haha Joking right back feeding off his energy. Love this. Look at her at the start of the scene and the end of this portion. He got her in a much better mood.

I love how sincere he is when he says yes he thought she’d be first. Of course he did. He believes in her SO MUCH. Why the lie detector got it wrong in that regard. This man loves you so much Lucy. She doesn't have an ounce of regret for that 5 player trade. Not once has she voiced that or hinted at that. In this moment all she can think about is how she disappointed him. The sweet kiss after he tells Lucy she could never disappoint him. *heart clutch* How far we’ve come people. Still blows me away. Lucy saying how cute the award is. It really is.

God damn I love how this relationship has made Tim so adorably romantic and soft. He's her marshmallow. Tim is so proud of himself for doing good with this. I’m beaming from how cute this moment is. The heart eyes as she tells him he did a good job. I’m dying. Friggin love this ship so much everyone. Makes my heart so happy he’s there to pick up the pieces. Makes her smile and laugh after a crushing defeat. Look at this goober of a man. Getting her to laugh and lifting her up at the same time. It’ll be interesting to see where Lucy goes after this.

Sucks she was sabotaged but a new career path might not be worst idea? I feel slightly relieved this SL of the exam has gotten its conclusion. Might not be the one we wanted for her...but I am excited to see where this goes for her career wise. It's Lucy whatever she puts her mind to she will dominate. I do love this final scene so much. How much lighter I felt after it. Gave me all the feels in best way. Look at our babies figuring out life together. I love them so much. Sucks we won't have anything for 3 friggin weeks but I understand with only having ten eps to play with.

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Side notes-non Chenford

Gonna be real honest could care less bout Nolan and his honeymoon. Snooze fest nation. Never been a huge Bailey fan. I was always a Grace fan personally.... Also them touching everything without gloves WTF LOL

Poor Aaron and Celina so awkward. Hope they inch back toward their original friendship.

Only good thing about their honeymoon is Harper and Angela showing up like BAMF's.

Love Grey checking in with Tim about Lucy and Celina. Their friendship is a dark horse. I love it when we get it. Underrated gem.

[paperback-rascal]

Hi 👉👈

I love your "Kix the cf99 medic" and it made me think about writing a fic about Wrecker going to a casual medical checkup and the medic/doctor/Kix almost has an aneurysm because of how many untreated injuries he has that healed on their own, BUT

I don't have a lot of medical knowledge, so do you have any suggestions of what stuff could be wrong with him besides crudely healed bone breaks, almost ripped tendons or badly scarred/burned stiff skin?

First of all - I hope you're going to tag me once that fanfiction it's done! You have no idea how I crave The Bad Batch and Kix artworks/stories! It is a void!

Second of all - I'm not a medical professional nor I'm in any shape or form related by no means with medicine/medical science. My whole "medical knowledge" is bunch of Wikipedia articles, one book about plagues (that I still didn't finish) and one civil defense course book from my high school days... and maybe couple of youtube videos.

With that in mind... (rest of the answer is under the cut/read more)

I don't mind all of the "crudely healed bone breaks", "almost ripped tendons" and "badly burned flesh" stories. I know they seem like obvious, tried-and-true formulas but I can't say 'no' to a well written, entertaining story - it's almost the same feeling like drinking a good cup of coffee - it never gets old! So if you (or anyone, really) feel the premise is not good enough... well, it is good as any other starting point!

However if you ask me what would I consider an interesting approach to a scenario in which "a routine check-up goes wrong", I think that the most 'oomph!' would be a domino effect - starting with a minor complain that later turns out to be a symptom of a multi-layered issue of one neglected thing after the other that wasn't done properly the first time/was overlooked - because let's face it - that how most medical emergencies starts and it is now getting fixed because someone (either a patient or a health professional) just pressed further to find the root cause. With The Bad Batch it could be especially interesting since they most likely have to fend for themselves during/right after missions so a lot of shortcuts and misinterpretation of data could be part of the issue.

Positioning Kix as "outsider looking in" could also be interesting starting point - Is he a stubborn medic going against the grain despite Clone Force 99/other medics telling him "that's how it always has been" or because he is an "outsider' (and most likely took the SW!equivalent of Hippocratic Oath?) so The Bad Batch feel more comfortable to confide to him their issues?

Also we all assume the issues have to be... grand in nature but a LOT of them that later wreak havoc starts small - an untreated ear infection, bad/rotten tooth, crooked/uneven nasal septum, allergies, etc. in the Batch's case they can be overlooked simply because "oh look! A shrapnel! Let's put Bacta on it" or by a simple assumption e.g. "Wrecker is huge so his muscles have to hurt due to his accelerated growth" or "of course his blood tests are off the charts - he is a defective clone after all" or even the other way "of course he doesn't have XYZ, it's all in his head/he is faking it, he is a CLONE after all and none of the clone troopers have such issues".

There are countless possibilities! So all in all it all boils down to - how comfortable are you in writing medical situations?

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The ask is in relation to this tag -> [LINK] <-

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STAR WARS: The Clone Wars © George Lucas/ Dave Filoni/ LucasFilm/ Disney

[findafight]

The "Robin would never date Steve's ex who broke his heart" take is FUCKING stupid for a lot of reasons.

First of off, the autonomy you're taking out of Robin with this.

Like she's not Steve's sidekick, she's not his yes man, she's an indepent girl who should be free to date any girl she wants.

She would never let her friendship with him ostacolate her love life.

Why the fuck she should do that?!

No one would.

And also, Steve is actually the one who hurt Nancy the most (slut Nancy Wheeler).

And if you think for a second that Robin would ever take Steve's side, then you're wrong.

Just stop centering everything around Steve, and stop reducing Robin to be just his sidekick, 'cause she's FUCKING not.

Hi! So. Pretty sure you found the most recent post I made (on April 6th) tagged anti rnce (and ONLY anti rnce. Not even stranger things. Just anti rnce and my personal original text post tag and a quip about choosing violence. So clearly if that’s how you got here you chose to not just send a post you disagreed with to your friends to rant about but came into my inbox and tried to start shit)And if you didn’t I truly don’t get how you, clearly a rnce fan, found me.

I’m going to be honest. Neither of us are going to change each other’s minds. I don’t like rnce for a lot of reasons, from i just don’t see a romantic spark there to a lot of the shippers being kinda shitty. I don’t care what you ship, really, just that. Claiming it’s canon or should be canon endgame etc gets annoying. And that a lot of the times the way I’ve seen the relationship portrayed (because, contrary to possibly popular belief, I have actually tried to read some fics for them. It’s also such a commonly untagged side or background pairing that I am subjected to it like that often as well) there’s so often weird terf or radfem red flags and alarm bells going off. I’ve seen someone harassed by rnce shippers for calling them out and then those shippers loudly regurgitating terf talking points like it’s fucking funny. I know all fandoms and ships have bad eggs but holy shit.

There’s been a few posts about how for some reason rnce fans try to portray people who don’t like it as making Robin Steve’s sidekick, when really we are acknowledging the facets of her characterization other than her lesbianism. Just because she likes girls doesn’t mean that’s the only thing that matters to her!

Yes, Robin liking girls is part of who she is, it influences how she acts and what she talks about, but it’s not the ONLY thing about her. She likes old movies, she enjoys pop and new wave music, she does her make up in her best friend’s car, she forgot to mention she never learned to drive because he forgot to ask if she could, she thinks combining into a super being with said best friend would possibly solve most of their problems.

Robin is a character who makes her own choices! She chooses to butt in at scoops, chooses to stay with Steve in the bunker to hold off the Russians, chooses to tell him her deepest secret, chooses to apply for jobs with Steve once they heal from the mall, chooses to spend a lot of time with him! And that’s rad. It gives us insight on who she is!

Whenever I’ve written or talked about Robin choosing not to date Nancy, I’ve always made it perfectly clear that it is Robin’s choice. Because given what we see of her in two seasons, Robin is loyal, and greatly values her friendship with Steve. Like. Regardless of how Steve feels about it, and I do think of Robin was legitimately interested in Nancy and Steve thought she had a chance, he’d encourage her to go for it. (Steve isn’t blindly encouraging Robin to hit on Vickie. He has high suspicions that Vickie is queer in some way too! She likes boobies!) I think Robin would think twice about it just because how much she encouraged stancy to get back together in s4.

Honestly, it makes me sad seeing how many times “why would robin choose her best friend’s feelings over getting a gf” is said because like. I value my friends’ feelings all the time. If I thought something I was doing was or would hurt them, I would reevaluate. Why WOULDNT Robin consider her best friend’s feelings? The first person she ever came out to? Who made her feel safe and accepted? Who made her laugh when she felt most vulnerable? Who she encouraged to get back with his ex? Romance is not a level up from friendship, it is not the endgame of life, it is not superior to any other relationship type. Treating friendships as less important to romance is something to reconsider and reevaluate.

Your last point. Anon, who is centring Steve now? Sure. He fucked up in s1. Literally no one denies that. He fucked up and he worked to make things right. He cleaned up the graffiti, he went to apologize to Jonathan, and he presumably apologized to Nancy, because she decided to date him for eleven months after that. I highly doubt there wasn’t heavy gossip about the graffiti or their breakup/makeup. I do agree that before Tina’s party Steve wasn’t helping Nancy as much as he could have, but Nancy wasn’t communicating to him either. They weren’t in the right place for each other. If we consider the alley the breakup, how is that not still breaking his heart? Yes Nancy was on a noble crusade, but it still had collateral damage. It’s something interesting about her character!

Robin wouldn’t be on board with the graffiti. But like. Steve’s changed and apologized since then. And She wasn’t there? She’s just here for the aftermath of Steve’s reignited feelings for Nancy. Idk. Both Steve and Nancy hurt each other in s1/2. It’s not a Steve v Nancy thing? It’s just an acknowledgment that of the two, Robin is closer to Steve. She’s more likely to consider him. She’s not omniscient to everything that happened or the persons feelings and reasons for doing it.

I’m sorry you don’t think friendship has an equal or greater value than some romantic relationship, it must suck. I also hope you find better things to do than to come to someone’s inbox and try to start something over a ship you like that they don’t.