#referenced past domestic violence

[inorganicone2230]

Purity (Finale Part 1 of 2) Yandere!Overhaul x Fem!Reader

Part 28 & Finale Part 2 of 2

Summary: Overhaul meets a quirkless foreigner who holds some very interesting views on his way of thinking. The more time he spends with her, the more he wants to keep her and her purity for himself. And he has no problem with falling to the depths of obsession if it means getting what he wants.

Other Warnings: Trigger warnings, mentions of past domestic and physical abuse, blackmail, referenced kidnapping, referenced rape, referenced physical abuse/torture, emotional and mental manipulation, toxic relationship, gaslighting, forced pregnancy, VERY YANDERE!!! See tags for more…

Side Note: I do NOT and never will condone the actions committed in this and future chapters, please be mindful and respectful of the fact that all of this is purely fiction.

5 Years Later

Looking down at his phone to check the time, Kai nearly groaned when he saw that it was already well past 6pm and they were still nowhere near ready to see this latest deal closed.

They had been debating these negotiations with this new group for the last three hours and despite Kai and the Hassaikai’s incredibly generous offer, they still hadn’t found a mutually agreeable price or terms to settle on.

“Look,” The head of the group said, clearly annoyed that they weren’t giving into their, quite frankly, ridiculous demands. “I just don’t see what the big deal is; all we’re asking is for an undiluted sample of the product to see how it will respond to someone under the effects of a stronger form of trigger.”

“The problem is that it’s a risk and a liability that we’re not willing to take.” Hari said for the umpteenth time through gritted teeth. “It’s been nearly five years since we completed our finished product, and in that time, we haven’t seen a single successful copycat drug hit the streets, so as I’m sure you can imagine, it’s a record we’d like to see keep going for as long as possible.”

One of the men across the table, an enforcer with a temper worse than Mimic’s, slammed his fist on the table in outrage.

“Are you uptight assholes trying to accuse us of wanting to double-cross you?!”

Kai rolled his eyes at the pathetic display before speaking up himself.

“I believe what my second in command is trying to say is that it’s a risk we’re just not willing to take for anyone.” He tapped a gloved hand on the paperwork in front of him. “You’re not the first buyers to ask us for such concessions, and we’ve turned them all down, even groups that we’ve had good standing with for generations, so no, we’re not about to break that stance for a gang that’s only just barely made a mediocre name for themselves.” His golden eyes flashed bright, promising pain and torment for anyone who thought it a smart idea to question him and the man who opened his mouth to respond to the insult, wisely shut it. “So, you can either take what we have so kindly offered you, with a small discount as a show of our immense generosity, or you can leave this room and consider yourselves permanently blacklisted from our dealings and future negotiations.”

The men across from him all sneered with outright contempt.

“And here I thought the infamous Overhaul was supposed to be a tyrant without mercy, a monster disguised as a man.” The leader said, giving him a once-over that clearly said he wasn’t all that impressed. “Seems to me that all those stories are nothing but baseless rumors.”

“Is that so?” Kai asked, rather absentmindedly, and as if in answer, his glove, along with the stack of papers underneath his hand quickly became particles floating through the air. “Should you continue with this disrespectful posturing, I can just as easily do the same to your bodies and you can leave this room, and the world of the living, through the drains in the floor.”

The men opposite him and Hari suddenly looked far less confident and Kai’s blood thrummed with the promise of potential violence. He didn’t relish the mess that would inevitably follow, but after last night, he needed something to take the fucking edge off, and wiping these vermin permanently out of existence seemed a good enough choice.

In the five years since the birth of his and your son, Kazue, there had been a great deal of changes brought about by the boundaries he’d set for you and himself to follow. Most of the changes were in regards to his relationship with you and the children, and it most definitely took some getting used to it all in the beginning, especially during that first year.

Touching you had been like second nature to him by that point and there were so many times where he had caught himself reaching for you and had to physically leave the room for fear of breaking his promise to you. He was a man of conviction after all, and he prided himself on his sense of self control, but not being able to hold you in his arms or feel your lips and body against his own was pure torture for him. He’d gone so long despising even the thought of physical contact with others, but once he got a taste of it with you, he became addicted.

That’s why he tried so hard to stay as far away from you as possible in those early days, spending as much time around you as he used to proved to be too much of a temptation for him and he was determined to prove to you that he could be a man of his word.

One of the first changes he had tried to make in the beginning had been in offering to find another place for himself to sleep, especially once he moved you all up into the house above the tunnels, a suggestion you had, very surprisingly, turned down. Sadly though, he didn’t need to be informed that it wasn’t because you would have missed his presence beside you at night, but because you didn’t want to worry Eri by letting her believe there was animosity between the two of you. You would continue to share his bed in a strictly platonic manner and keep up the guise of being cordial with him, if only for the sake of the children and their stability. But beyond that, and raising the children together, you did much of everything without him back then.

Along with the loss of his intimacy with you, he ceased doing quite a lot with you during that time period; picking out your clothes for the day, bathing with you, making idle conversation with you, even just spending quality time with you in the same room, all of it came to a sudden halt. None of it was out of maliciousness on his part of course, it was just easier to stay away until he could get a grasp on his self control. A task that proved itself to be one of the most difficult of his young life.

And that’s roughly how the first two years had progressed.

You spent time with him, usually only when the children were involved, and life dragged on accordingly. And over time, he ever so slowly began to lose hope that anything would change the horrible circumstances of his own careless actions.

Until one event that set in motion a ripple effect, one that went on to ever so slowly alter the last three years, enough to restore that small ember of hope he’d been holding onto.

—————

It was late, nearly three in the morning, by the time he slowly and quietly made his way through the halls of the ‘family residence’ and into the bedroom, silently praying that you and the children were already asleep and that he wouldn’t accidentally wake any of you up and have to explain his haggard appearance. Getting to spend time with you and his babies was usually the best part of his day, but not tonight. It had already been such an agonizingly long and hard day, one of the most difficult of his life, and he just didn’t have the drive or the energy to deal with anything else.

Unfortunately though, those prayers went unanswered as he quietly opened the door to find you still awake and sitting up in bed with a book in hand.

You looked up, your beautiful face as impassive as ever, and if you were at all surprised or concerned by his less than normal countenance, then you certainly didn’t show it, and he was far too tired and drained by that point to feel hurt by the minor snub.

“What are you still doing up?” He asked quietly, more out of habit than actual interest, as he trudged over to his dresser to pull out a clean pair of boxers and sleeping pants.

Since anything and everything sexual was now off the table for the two of you, he had conceded and begrudgingly, but understandably, started wearing some kind of sleepwear to bed. He found it uncomfortable most nights, as he was so accustomed to sleeping in the nude, but he found that as long as he was wearing something that at least left his lower body covered, like a simple pair of boxers, you didn’t feel the need to voice any complaints about it. Although, when this arrangement had first started, he was smugly pleased to see that you were just as uncomfortable as he was when it came to wearing clothing to bed. In the beginning you tried to wear the most unflattering pajama sets to bed in an effort to hide your body from him, but those attempts had lasted all of three months before you broke down and just started wearing the least revealing nightgowns and other sleepwear he’d previously purchased for you to bed at night. It certainly wasn’t something he was ever going to mention for fear of losing the stunning visuals they provided him with, and definitely not now that he was forced to take his pleasure into own hands… quite literally these days.

Under normal circumstances, he would have spent a few minutes talking to you and greedily drinking in the sight of you in a silky midnight blue night shirt and shorts, especially when he could clearly see the outline of your nipples straining against the delicate material, but the entrancing sight held nearly no sway over him this night.

He saw you shrug out of the corner of his eye and turn the page of your book, just as uninterested in him as you always were. “Kazue got a tummy ache after dinner tonight, so I sat up with him until it passed and he was able to fall asleep. I’m starting to think he might be a bit lactose intolerant, and it was the cream based sauce that did it.”

“I see…” Was his only response as he made his way into the bathroom to take a scalding hot shower, completely missing your wide eyed stare following him all the way to the bathroom and lingering long after the door had shut behind him.

—————

And perhaps it was his complete and utter disinterest in the well-being of his son that tipped the scales in his favor that night and made you act so out of character, Kai thought to himself, because any other time you said such a thing, he would have been asking a whole host of increasingly concerned questions and rushing into the child’s room to see for himself that he was safe a well.

—————

By the time Kai emerged from the bathroom over an hour later, his skin having turned a pinkish red and scrubbed so raw in places that he’d likely taken away a layer or two, the bedside lamp was shut off and you were nestled comfortably under the covers, though he could tell you were still wide awake. But still, he said nothing as he pulled back the covers and finally laid down. He was exhausted, both mentally and emotionally, and he felt it deep down in his bones, but he just couldn’t seem to get his mind to settle.

It also didn’t help that he could feel your gaze drilling holes into his back and adding to his already mounting tension.

You hadn’t said anything, but he could feel your questions hanging in the air all around him and the pressure of it made his already sensitive and scalded skin itch. He’d never had this kind of adverse reaction to you before and it terrified him to no small degree. He knew it was just the lingering effects from what had occurred today, but still, it wasn’t a feeling he’d ever wanted to experience where you were concerned.

So he answered your unspoken question, if only to try and make the itching go away.

“He’s dead…”

The two softly spoken words rang hollow in the quiet of the bedroom and while Kai knew he didn’t need to elaborate further on who he was referring to, you would already know, the floodgates were now open and he couldn’t stop himself from speaking further, even if there was no prompting for it from you.

“The underling assigned to care for him said that the readings on all his monitors were fine this morning, but when he came back to check on him during lunch…” He trailed off, his throat constricting around the words as he fought to keep some semblance of his composure intact, but against all his best efforts, a pathetic and broken sound, somewhere between a sob and whine, slipped out of him instead. He hated how weak he felt in this moment; he’d seen his own fair share of death and horrible things over the years, Hell!, he’d performed human medical experiments that could easily be qualified as torture, and on his own daughter of all people! And yet he’d never felt as grief stricken and misguided after coming to terms with those instances, not the way he did right now with this.

He knew it was bound to happen someday, Pops dying… but he never thought it would be so soon, and certainly not before he was able to wake him up and show the man everything he had achieved, not just for the Shie Hassaikai and the yakuza, but for himself.

And now he would never get that chance.

He would never get to tell him how much he honored and respected him, or how grateful he was to have been saved and raised by him, how he thought of him as a father, even if he’d never had the courage to call him by such a title in all the years he’d been under his roof. He’d never get to introduce you to him and hear him laugh when you inevitably called him out on his bullshit and sometimes poor behavior, or see him hold Kazue in his arms and try Eri’s spectacular cooking for the first time. He’d never again feel that strong hand on his shoulder, or hear his voice telling him how proud he was of him despite all his faults and mistakes.

But worst of all, is knowing how he’d never get the chance to beg for his forgiveness, and tell him just how sorry he was for what he’d done that last day they’d spoken, when he laid out the original details of his plan, before everything changed… before you had come into his life and changed everything.

When you failed to respond after a few moments, Kai began wondering if he had imagined you still being awake. Perhaps it had been wishful thinking on his part and his tired mind had simply wanted to believe that you were just the slightest bit worried for him. 

He was just about to roll over to try and sleep, and hopefully forget all about this for a little while in dreamless oblivion, when he felt a light pressure on his bicep, so light and tentative that, were his skin not so sensitive from the shower, he might not have noticed it right away.

The contact of your hand made him immediately go rigid, completely terrified that one wrong move would send you reeling back to the other side of the bed. He’d been so distracted that he hadn’t noticed you inching closer to his side of the bed until now, and he didn’t even know what to do with himself. Sure, there had been brief and accidental exchanges of touch since Kazue had been born, usually when passing the children to one another or when you got in close quarters with each other, but in all actuality, you hadn’t gone out of your way to touch him in years, and now, he didn’t have a single clue as to what to make of this. It wasn’t as if he was complaining about it, far from it, but he just didn’t know what to take it as.

He told you before that every future touch would be on your terms, and he wanted to keep his word on that front, and he truly didn’t know if this moment was meant to go beyond what was already happening. He didn’t want to misinterpret you touching him like this as more than what you were intending it to be, because for all he knew, you only meant for this to be a consoling touch to try and give him some small form of comfort during this difficult situation he was facing. So he would take what he could get and he would commit this feeling to memory and use it on days when the strain of not being able to touch you was at its strongest, he would use it as a reminder of what he was working so hard to prove to you.

…

…

…

Minutes passed, and after some time, he received yet another shock when he felt the slightest pull on his arm.

He barely noticed it at first, and when he did, he just assumed you were getting ready to take your hand back, but when your touch lingered, the pull becoming more insistent, he finally gave in and turned to face you.

You were laying on your side, a look of conflicted contemplation settled over your face and his eyes immediately zeroed in on the way you were biting your bottom lip, a clear sign you were deep in thought on a subject you likely considered very worrisome. Even with the tragedy of Pops’ death hanging like a morbid sheet over his head, Kai couldn’t keep his mind away from thoughts of how those perfect lips of yours used to feel wrapped around his cock, or even how they simply felt against his own. If things weren’t so strained and different between the two of you these days, he likely would have been inside you already, using pleasure and ecstasy to temporarily push aside the unusual feelings of sorrow and grief that were currently plaguing his mind.

As it stood though, that wasn’t even an option right now and he needed to get a hold of himself and gain back some semblance of self control.

“Was…” His voice sounded strained and thick, even to his ears, and he cleared his throat before continuing. “Was there something you needed, my love?” He asked cautiously, not wanting to make a big deal about this odd touch of yours and risk spooking you.

You didn’t respond though, in fact, you couldn’t even bring yourself to keep eye contact with him for longer than a few seconds. There was just enough light in the room for him to see that your gaze kept shifting around, and he wondered what was going on inside your head for you to be feeling so nervous and fidgety. It wasn’t a trait you often showed around him, not anymore at least.

Eventually, after a few more quiet moments of thought, you finally got your bearings back and decided to show him what you wanted, rather than expressing it through words, as you rolled over onto your back and opened your arms to him…

Kai was so shocked and stunned by this unexpected turn of events, that he didn’t know what to do with himself and he just continued to stare at you with wide eyes and an open mouthed expression adorning his usually carefully controlled features.

“Well…” You finally snapped at him quietly, although the words carried zero bite to them. “Are you going to come over here or not?” Your voice was barely above a whisper, as if you were afraid of being too loud for some reason.

But at your insistence, Kai moved without another thought.

—————

Even three years later, Kai could still remember that night with perfect clarity.

He could still recall the warmth and softness of your skin, the feel of your arms wrapping around his back in an awkward, but still comforting embrace, he could even remember the way you’d smelled of lilies and eucalyptus as he’d buried his face in the crook of your neck and shoulder. But what he recalled the most vividly, was how he hadn’t felt the least bit judged for the tears that eventually started to fall, or for the quiet sobs that had shaken his body. And all the while, you had simply and silently held him through all of it, you had even stroked your hands up and down the length of his back once in a while.

You hadn’t offered him your condolences or any words of comfort, but what you did give him was so much more profound. The fact that you had chosen to set aside your own negative opinions and personal feelings for him and allowed him to have that moment of silence to grieve and let it all out, that mattered more to him than mere words could ever hope to convey. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d cried over anything, he’d come very close to it a few times during the days surrounding Kazue’s horrifically premature birth, but the ability to shed true tears was something he thought he’d long since purged from himself.

And afterwards, during the following morning, when he’d slowly and silently pulled himself from your arms, savoring every last second he could soaking up your warmth and scent, before he allowed himself to give your cheek the lightest of kisses, he thought that would be the first and last time something like that would occur, that it was a one and done moment. He assumed you wouldn’t even want to talk about it, so he hadn’t brought it up at all and chose instead to keep it tucked away in his heart as a sort of keepsake memory.

But, to his still shocked and bewildered delight, you had offered him the same thing again that night… and the next night, and the night after that, until it became commonplace and a habit neither of you seemed willing to break.

And slowly, little by little, you started opening up to him more after that and Kai relished every moment of it.

He wasn’t delusional enough to think you had entirely accepted your life here with him, he knew that acceptance and complacency were two vastly different concepts, and you were still far from happy. But every time you let your guard down and touched him, or gave him a smile that wasn’t forced and strained for the children’s sake was still a win for him. It felt so much more rewarding and genuine, in a way forcing you never had. He still couldn’t bring himself to fully regret the actions he’d taken that had led him to this point, but now he could see the benefits that could be obtained through time and patience. It wasn’t easy by any means, there were still days where he found himself feeling resentful and bitter that he was having to work so hard for something that, in his mind, he still viewed as rightfully his, but a quick flashback to the awful day of Kazue’s birth was usually enough to snap him out of it.

Sometimes, the memories of that day were so terribly vivid that it felt like he was reliving it all over again and he could still hear the sound the back of his fist had made as it cracked against your face, or the sound of your heavily pregnant body hitting the floor. Those were the mild ones though, the worst came when he could see your blood on his hands and smell the coppery scent of it hanging in the air all around him.

It was so bad in the beginning that he often awoke from nightmares of it, gasping for breath and drenched in a cold sweat that even the heat of a blistering shower couldn’t fully wipe away.

But it was getting better with time, and as selfish as he knew it was, the main reason for that was because he had the assurance that you would never know or remember the exact details of what happened that terrible day. Even five years later, you never once gave him any indication to believe that the false memory he had planted in your mind was fading. It didn’t completely wash away the immense guilt he still felt over it, but had you been allowed to hold it over his head like he knew you most certainly would have, it would have eventually torn him apart from the inside out and made even looking at you and the children nearly unbearable.

…

…

…

“Are you listening to me you fucking asshole?!”

Something whizzed past his face and crashed into the wall behind him, pulling him from his musings and bringing his mind back to the present situation at hand.

Kai turned his head to see that it was the bottle of whiskey that had been sitting in the middle of the table, the amber liquid slowly trickling down the pristine white wall and forming a puddle on the floor, along with the broken shards of glass.

Having two children, especially when one of them was a very rambunctious toddler, had done a lot to help him develop a stronger tolerance for messes and disorder, but even so, having a full grown man throw such a childish temper tantrum in his presence was more than enough to make his brow twitch in irritation.

Kai shook his head in disgust. “I have to admit, this really is rather pathetic.” He said, turning back to face the group across from him. “ When my son was going through his terrible twos, he was still better behaved than you and your sorry lot.” And from somewhere behind him, he heard quiet laughter come from the men standing against the wall. Not a surprise really, his Precepts had all spent enough time around the boy these last five years and knew perfectly well how energetic he could be, thankfully though, for as much as Kazue took after Kai in the looks and quirk department, he had seemingly inherited your mellow disposition.

It took a minute, but once the insult fully registered, the man’s face turned an impressive shade of red for a few moments before a thought must have hit his pea-sized brain and a sinister smirk curled up the corner of his lips.

“A son, huh?” He said, easily taking the bait Kai laid out for him. “Gotta say, I never would have suspected that the feared Head of the Shie Hassaikai was a family man.” The morons behind him must have thought he was doing a remarkable job of it, since they all laughed right along with him, and spurred on by his men’s reactions, he unknowingly kept digging his own grave. “That must mean you have yourself a woman…” 

His words might have actually hit their intended mark, had Kai not already anticipated the response and prepared his temper for it accordingly. He didn’t exactly need a reason to take the fools out, he could have done so already and called it a day, but he was feeling generous at the moment and decided to allow the scumbags before him to think they could have been spared from his wrath if only they had left talk of you and Kazue out of it.

“I’ve heard how insanely high maintenance you are, so she must be one helluva ride in the fucking sack if she caught your eye.” He continued on, so convinced of his own superiority over Kai and his Precepts that he failed to notice the way his disrespectful words had very quickly drawn the ire of the loyal men standing behind the golden eyed leader. “Tell you what, you give me and my men a free pass with her, and we’ll call this whole situation a simple misunderstanding.”

Kai knew that such a remark was coming, but even then, the rage that consumed him was so blinding, so all consuming, that it almost caused his quirk to activate without conscious thought.

But surprisingly, it wasn’t Kai himself that reacted first, it was Hojo who slammed the side of a crystal fist against the back wall, the force of it cracking the cement and rattling the room hard enough that debris rained down from the ceiling in a few places.

“Keep your disgusting comments about the Lady out of your filthy mouths.” He said, his tone low and menacing. “If I hear something like that again, I’ll personally nail each and every one of you to the walls by your shriveled up balls and dicks.” Hojo’s eyes were normally shadowed, but right now, the crystals that formed them were bright and blazing with barely contained fury.

Silence filled the meeting room for a few short seconds before the leader of the soon to be eradicated gang spoke up again, this time with a bit of fear lacing his otherwise steady tone of voice. Kai didn’t know if it was overconfidence, or just plain stupidity that kept him from pissing himself, but the little fucker had some balls, that was for sure, and Kai was willing to give him credit in that regard at the very least.

“Are all of you Hassaikai pricks this sensitive when it comes to such little things?” He scoffed dismissively before meeting Kai’s gaze. “You disrespected us, and I only suggested it as an easy way for you to express your regrets, but if it’s too difficult to hand over your woman to us for a night, then I’m sure we can figure something else out to fix this situation.”

Kai was now thoroughly convinced; this moron's overinflated bravado and sense of self worth was heightened by nothing more than sheer stupidity. For him to think that Kai cared enough about making this deal happen that he’d be willing to bend over backwards to please them was just plain laughable. They had more than enough mules to push their product, they didn’t need these inconsequential nobodies, but enlisting a few extra hands never hurt.

It’s just a shame that some of those hands were a little too far reaching.

“Is that so?” Kai said quietly. “You must be quite full of yourself if you think that asking for permission to violate my wife is something I’m just going to overlook?” His voice was level and lethally calm, but the absolute disgust he felt could be heard in each word he spoke.

The moment the words registered in their pea-brain heads, all the men went as still as statues and noticeably paled. It would have been one thing if they had insulted a common whore or a bed warmer, but they didn’t, they insulted a powerful leader’s wife, and it didn’t make a lick of difference to Kai whether the fools knew that detail beforehand or not.

They tried to plead half-hearted apologies, then they begged, then they tried to run…

Then, the bloodletting began.

—————

Kai slumped back in the chair behind his desk with an audible groan as Hari placed a glass of bourbon before him and took a seat across from him with his own.

“So, did you get it all out of your system?” The silver haired man asked him, hiding his insufferable and knowing grin with a well timed sip of his drink.

Kai glared, albeit half-heartedly. “And just what is that supposed to mean?” He asked, and picked up his own glass, downing the knuckles worth of liquor in one go

Kai’s disposition had mellowed out in the years since Kazue’s birth, Hari thought, and while he would never call the man soft or say he’d lost his brutal edge, he had certainly opened up and relaxed a bit more when it came to those within their inner circle. But even still, he knew better than to outright laugh at him. He could easily get away with a bit of heckling, but even he had his limits where Kai’s temper was concerned.

“You went into that meeting looking for any excuse you could to take out that pent up aggression of yours on them, that’s the only reason you allowed it to happen in the first place.” The second in command shot back. “So, which one of you was it this time?”

There was silence between them for a few more heartbeats before Kai spoke.

“Her.”

That one simple word carried so much weight to it that Hari could practically see it wearing his friend down.

“Well that explains it.”

Kai nodded in answer but didn’t elaborate any further. There was no need to, Hari already knew everything there was to know about the situation, about the little game you and he had been playing for the better part of the last two years.

It had truly been an accident, the day you had unknowingly walked into this very office, only to find him with his hand wrapped around his cock, and watching one of the many saved videos he had from the camera recordings of your old room down below. The volume had been reduced considerably, but there had been no mistaking the sound of flesh slapping against flesh, or that of your exquisite voice moaning and crying out his name.

You had stood in the doorway for only a handful of seconds before turning on your heel and leaving without a single word, but in that short span of time, Kai had seen the way your eyes lingered on his aching cock, had seen the way you licked your dry lips before biting the bottom one between your teeth. It was that image, not the one of you and himself together on the screen of his computer, that had sent him over the edge into a mind numbing orgasm.

But once the haze of pleasure had ebbed away and no longer clouded his sense of thought or reason, the panic had quickly set in. All throughout the rest of the day, he had been terrified that this incident would set back all the progress the two of you had made together so far these last three years. He had anticipated you getting angry and calling him a vile piece of shit at best, or giving him the cold shoulder at worst, what he hadn’t expected though, was that you wouldn’t do anything at all.

At first…

Nothing was amiss, you’d acted no differently than normal, and if he hadn’t known any better, he might have even gotten it into his head that he had imagined your appearance in his office earlier. He let himself think that perhaps you just wanted to pretend that it had never happened and you were showing him kindness by not bringing it up. So, as the night wore on, he’d relaxed more and more, and when the children were finally put to bed and fast asleep, he hadn’t given it a single thought when you said you were going to take a bath to relax before joining him in bed.

Until he saw you approach his closet, got a look at what you had grabbed from its contents, and realized that your real reaction was going to be so much worse for him than what he had originally built up in his mind.

—————

Kai watched, his curiosity now thoroughly peaked enough that he didn’t dare ask what it was you were doing, as you made a beeline straight for his closet.

He kept his eyes trained on the entryway as you disappeared into an out of the way corner within the small space and began rummaging around. He strained his hearing, trying his best to figure out what you were looking for based on the sounds, but he couldn't be entirely too sure and gave up after a short while, resigning himself to just learning what it was when you finally emerged.

And soon enough, you did, but what you held in your hand was nearly enough to give him a heart attack, because there, dangling loosely from your grip, as if it were nothing more that a simple article of clothing, was one of the many toys he’d always kept stashed away in a trunk at the back of the closet. He’d kept them all, but after he moved you and everyone else upstairs to the main house, he’d made sure that you and he had separate closets, so you’d have a place to change clothes in private, and the trunk was placed in his, and somehow, you must have guessed that he’d do such a thing, because he had certainly never mentioned it to you.

He recognized it as one that he’d used on you fairly regularly; long and purple, it was shaped like a realistic cock, including ridges to resemble veins and complete with all the bells and whistles of a regular vibrator, it even had an attachment meant to help stimulate the clit. And whenever he used it on you back then, he always loved just letting it sit there inside of you, sometimes tucking your soaked panties around its base to help keep it in place so his hands could be free to pleasure you in other places, or stimulate himself while he watched and listened to you beg and plead with him to take it out or make the over-stimulation end.

He tried to keep you from seeing just how much the sight of you with that object was affecting, not just a certain key area of his lower body, but his mental state as well, but he highly doubted he was doing a very good job of it. He sometimes didn’t know how to act around you anymore now that he was striving to be less dominant and forceful with you. It was probably one of the hardest things he had ever done, and even now, after years of teaching himself not to react in a volatile manner when you did or said something that he didn’t approve of, it still ate away at his pride a little.

The idea of you pleasuring yourself was never a thought he allowed his mind to dwell on for too long, mostly because it was a subject that did nothing more than rub salt into the wound that was his still broken heart. All it did was remind him of those last words you spoke to him right before that terrible incident three years ago, when you said you always tried to think of someone else every time he forced himself on you. He knew you’d only said it to hurt him, but the comment most definitely hit its intended target, and every time the words unwittingly came to the forefront of his mind, it proved a challenge for him to keep himself from raging like a madman. He wanted so very badly to grab you and throw you down onto the bed, to fill you with his cock again and make you cry out his name like a prayer to the heavens, make you swear that you’d never touch yourself again unless it was to put on a show for him.

 These days though, those moments were growing fewer and farther between.

He knew that his dominant and forceful approach to intimacy wasn’t something he’d ever be able to completely erase from his personality, but he promised himself that if you ever choose to be intimate with him again, he would put forth every ounce of effort he could muster towards begin better, to being a man that was worthy of your willingness and acceptance. He’d told you before that if you ever choose to be with him like that again, that things would go right back to the way they’d been and you would have no one to blame but yourself for it, and while that statement had been true at the time, that was no longer the case for him.

But seeing you standing before him now, dressed in nothing but a black nightgown that hugged all your lovely curves perfectly and holding that toy in your delicate hand, he felt his self control hanging on by a very flimsy thread as he, very unrealistically, imagined you blessedly asking him to help you with it.

He was so distracted by the sight of you that he barely heard you when you spoke and he had to awkwardly ask you to repeat yourself.

You didn’t smile or react in any way except to hold the vibrator up in the air, as if it needed to be pointed out so he’d know what you were referring to, and repeat yourself.

“This one is waterproof, right?” You asked, your face a mask of bored indifference. “I remember you used it on me in the shower a few times, or was it a different one than this? There were a few purple ones mixed in there.”

Kai blinked at you in shock, because in the last three years, not a single word had been uttered between the two of you regarding your prior sex life. He hadn’t wanted to trigger you by making references to it, and he just assumed that you never brought it up because of fairly obvious reasons. It genuinely surprised him how easily you were mentioning it, and with such a straight face and bland expression. He guessed you were only trying to goad him into reacting as pay back for what you had caught him doing earlier, but he figured it was best to move it along quickly to avoid falling into whatever trap you were potentially trying to lay out for him. His patience and self control could only stretch so far after all.

He cleared his throat and forced his gaze to turn back towards the report in his hand, not that he was actually reading it anymore, but that was beside the point.

“It’s waterproof.” He said, perhaps a bit too tightly. “It’s been years since it’s been used though, so the batteries might be dead, and it’ll need to be thoroughly cleaned.”

He hoped that would be enough to satisfy you and you’d finally take it away from his presence, but the sudden buzzing sound told him he wasn’t that lucky and he gripped the paperwork in his hand all the tighter to keep himself in check.

“Sounds like it’s working just fine to me.” You said, clicking it through all of its different settings before it went silent once more and he relaxed ever so slightly. “If you’re asleep when I get done, I’ll try not to wake you up when I come to bed.”

And with that, you walked off, quietly shutting the bathroom door behind you and leaving him alone in relative silence, but the moment he heard the sound of rushing water filling up the tub, he scrambled to turn the bedside lamp off and go to sleep as quickly as possible. He hoped he might get lucky and you’d do whatever it was you wanted with that thing while the water was still running and spare him from the potential torture of having to hear anything, or better yet, maybe you wouldn’t do anything with it at all and you taking it in there with you was just for show.

The water shut off and he waited a solid ten minutes or so before he deemed it safe to finally relax and try to fall asleep like normal, but then it happened…

He heard the muffled vibrations of the toy and the sloshing of the water, and not even a few seconds later, his keen hearing also picked up on the unmistakable sound of your quiet little moans and gasps of pleasure.

He was lying on his stomach, with his hard cock pinned uncomfortably between himself and the bed, but he refused to move and relieve himself. Even as the noises you made grew higher in pitch and more erratic, he wanted to listen to them all, to absorb them all and use them for his own fantasies, and all the while, he felt utterly torn between praying that you’d stop, and never wanting it to end. He couldn’t stop himself from wondering if it was himself you were thinking of in there, if you were remembering all the ways he used to touch you and kiss you, if you were hearing his phantom voice whispering filthy words and dark promises in your ear, but most of all, he couldn’t help but wonder if you would end up feeling dirty and regretting it afterwards, if you were in fact thinking of him.

Eventually, your voice reached a pitch that couldn’t be misinterpreted as anything but that of someone reaching the peak of orgasmic pleasure and Kai found himself near to weeping in gratitude when all went quiet again before the sound of draining water filled the silence instead. He knew you would be coming out and climbing into bed at any moment and silently willed his aching cock and rising desire to calm down and lessen.

A few minutes later, after the water stopped draining from the tub, Kai heard the door quietly creak open and he listened intently while you padded across the carpeted floor and climbed into bed with him.

He was surprised when he felt you slide over and cuddle up to his back, having thought that you wouldn’t be comfortable with it tonight, but you dropped your arm across his waist and allowed your hand to rest on his stomach, dangerously close to the tip of still fully erect cock, but he certainly wasn’t about to make any complaints about it. These moments with you at night were bittersweet torture for him, but Kai wouldn’t end them for all the world, not when it was the only time he allowed himself the privilege of touching you for longer than a few scant seconds. Even if the puffs of your breath on the back of his neck made his hips and cock twitch, and the feel of your unbound breasts pressing into his shoulder-blades made him imagine rolling over-top of you and latching his mouth onto one of those sensitive little nipples through the nightshirt you currently wore.

“Kai?”

Your voice cut straight through the fog of sleep that was beginning to cloud his senses and he shifted ever so slightly to let you know he was still aware and listening.

He felt you smile against the back of his neck and stiffened when you leaned up to breathe the words against the sensitive skin behind his ear. “I just thought you should know that we’re even for now.” And to his complete shock and surprise, you laid a quick, barely there kiss to that same little spot of skin. “That’s all.”

—————

That night was the precursor to what would become this ongoing game between the two of you that had been playing out for nearly two years.

Kai hadn’t been able to get what you’d said out of his head for nearly a week afterwards, or rather, it was two words in particular that stuck with him so strongly.

‘For now.’

He might have overlooked it, had you not said it in that teasing and lilting tone of yours and concluded it with that little brush of your lips. 

So, he decided to test out this new theory of his, and the next time he felt the urge to pleasure himself, he made sure you would be fully aware of it.

He’d done it simply by taking a shower at the right time and leaving the bathroom door slightly ajar, and when he heard you enter the bedroom, he hadn’t bothered to try and contain the sounds of his pleasure or stop your name from rolling off his tongue. Knowing that you had been fully aware of what he was in the midst of doing, that you were just on the other side of the door, had heightened the intensity of his orgasm when he finally found release, enough so that he’d had to take a seat on the bench in the shower to catch his breath before drying off and emerging.

You’d taken a seat in front of the tv on the other side of the large room, watching some kind of documentary, but he’d been able to tell right off the bat that you hadn’t been paying a lick of attention to it. You’d kept stealing so many sidelong glances at him that it was almost comical, and when he flashed you a knowing smirk before climbing in bed that night, he knew without a doubt that you’d understood he’d done it on purpose.

Two days later, you’d done it again as well, letting him hear every little sound that escaped your mouth while you fucked yourself with your own fingers this time, and while he never once heard his name fall from your lips, he was confident this time that it was him that you were imagining, him, and no one else.

The two of you had been at it ever since, and over time, some unspoken rules had developed between you both, especially since it had escalated and moved from the bathroom to the bedroom where you both laid side by side.

For starters, while this was something that the two of you both participated in, it was never spoken about, either during or afterwards. Neither of you sought pleasure at the same time or on the same night, and though both of you knew that the other was always listening intently and sometimes even watching, it was always done under the guise of pretending to be asleep.

“So, what made this time so difficult?” Hari asked him casually, pulling him from his introspection on these events of the past.

It seemed to be a running theme for him today.

Kai gritted his teeth as a wave of arousal washed over him. “She let my name slip again.”

Last night had been your turn, and when he’d cracked his eyes open just bit to see your fingers pinching one perfect nipple and your hips rising off the bed with the force of your orgasm, he’d nearly broken one of those unspoken rules when you’d breathlessly whisper-moaned his name. It wasn’t the first time you’d done it, but even still, it hit him just as hard whenever it did slip out.

Sometimes, whenever he let himself dwell on the thought of it for too long, he felt like it might just drive him mad.

For fear of ruining what little trust and progress you had gained with him these last five years, he could never bring himself to ask why you couldn’t simply admit that you wanted to resume sharing his bed with him in every way that counted. Not just to sleep and rest in, nor as a ruse for the sake of allowing the children to believe they still had two parents who loved one another. You knew from experience that he could bring you more pleasure in bed than you ever could hope to achieve on your own, and you obviously still wanted him, if not emotionally, then physically at the very least, and he often wondered what would happen if he were to break down and ask you about it. But every time he started to open his mouth to do so, all those ghosts of the past would creep up his spine and remind him of all the horrible ways such a thing could backfire on him and the ramifications that would follow.

As Kai continued to silently stew in his own bitter musings, Hari couldn’t help but let his own thoughts wander in the same direction.

His own relationship with your sister was at a similar standstill, but for all the opposite reasons.

After that first night, when she came to him, drunk and seeking a way to help her forget about the temporary death she and the doctor had miraculously managed to pull you back from after the horrific birth of Kazue, it hadn’t stopped after that. It was like the dam that was her iron resolve had permanently cracked after that and she couldn’t bring herself to stay away from him any longer. And even though it was mindbogglingly amazing, the best sex he had ever had in all honesty, it just so happened to be the thing tearing him apart inside, because that’s all it was.

Just sex.

She came to him for it whenever Rappa wasn’t around, and sometimes even when he was and she just wanted a change of pace. But she never stayed for very long afterwards, not unless she was interested in going at it again for multiple rounds. Beyond that first night, she never slept in his bed, nor did she allow him to sleep in hers. Once in a while she would stick around and chat with him while she got her bearings back or while she took her time getting redressed, but she never stayed for too much longer than that

There were so many times he felt that he should just give up and accept that he’d never have her the way he truly wanted, but whenever she came to him, he couldn’t bring himself to ever turn her down. He kept holding onto the hope that she’d one day see what they could have together if only she’d give him a chance and open up more than just her body to him. He could give her so much more than Rappa ever could, and she knew that, but still she refused to give him the opportunity to prove it to her.

Hari never once tried to talk to Kai about this though, as the other man had more than enough stress and worry of his own to deal with. Not to mention, he felt like talking to him about the frequency of his own sex life would probably do nothing but make his boss dwell even harder on the continued lack of it in his own relationship with you. He couldn’t imagine what it must be like for him to share a bed with you every night, listening to you pleasure yourself so often right beside him, and not give into the temptation of touching you. He might not fully understand why Kai let this stalemate with you drag on for so long, but he couldn’t deny how much he admired the man’s level of restraint and determination to see his promise to you fulfilled.

Neither of them spoke much after that, and their once companionable silence soon morphed into morose brooding as each of them continued to dwell on the issues surrounding the women in their lives.

For those of you who aren’t aware, I set up a poll a few days ago asking whether or not I should split this finale into two parts, and while it was a close match, the majority said they wanted it split, so that’s what this is.

I apologize that this entire chapter was Kai-centric, I know a lot of people prefer to read entirely from the Reader’s POV, but I felt that an entire chapter/part from Kai’s perspective was necessary to get across the changes he’s gone through during the time-skip. 

We’ll be getting back to the Reader in the next chapter though and you’ll all get to see how she’s been fairing, rather than hearing about it secondhand from Kai. So I’m hoping to have Part 2 finished and posted in a couple of weeks, so please be on the lookout! 🥰

I hope you all enjoy this and please don’t hesitate to let me know what you think! Thank you for all the support!

And as always, I want to give a BIG thank you to my amazing friend @talpup for all the brainstorming and encouragement on these stories! I’m  sure I would have given up on this blog a while ago if it wasn’t for all of  their help. I highly encourage anyone who takes the time to read this to  go over to their page or their AO3 account under the sam name and  check out their works, especially Chaos and Lost Song. They are   two of my favorite BNHA fics of ALL TIME! And who has also started their own Yandere!Overhaul fic called Crossroads and is set in a 1920′s prohibition style era, it’s amazing and you need to check it out!

[process-pending]

Bowed over, hand curled around the safety bar the only thing keeping Jaskier standing as he sent up silent plea after plea to wake from this nightmare. No answer came, not because he didn't think Destiny was listening but it wasn't within even her power to rewrite reality.

To the Night We Met (Chapter 3)

[spncompostheap]

"Castiel!"

Cas Novak jolted awake, unable to shake off the vivid dream of his mother's voice still echoing in his ears. Slicing through the air like lightning, electrifying his senses, Cas’s mind reeled as he spiraled back through time to that fateful night, just after his ninth birthday.

Tightening his grip on the blankets pooling at his waist, a chill ran through Cas as he surveyed the dimly lit bedroom. His eyes strained against the darkness, as an unmistakable sense of disorientation overtook him. As his most intrusive memories surged forward, Cas suddenly felt too helpless to fight against them as they relentlessly pushed their way into the forefront of his reality.

Cautiously, Cas swung his legs over the edge of the bed, his bare feet sinking into the plush carpet. Within moments, he’d been overwhelmed by a tidal wave of pain, fear, and loss—everything came crashing back, threatening to consume him until he fled the confines of his bedroom completely hoping to escape into the kitchen instead.

Raised voices filled his mind coupled with the sound of shattering glass, and his mother's desperate, unanswered pleas for help.

Pressing a trembling hand against the cool countertop, Cas’s mind etched every detail into his consciousness amidst his futile attempts at grounding himself. Pinching the meat of his outer thigh and intentionally digging in his fingernails, Cas was unprepared for the sensation of utter numbness which followed. As his heart raced, and breathing became ragged, Cas began to abandon all hope of remaining tethered within reality.

His mother's eyes were wide with fear as she had pleaded with him directly. “Just go back to bed, Castiel! Please, just go back to bed-”

Cas’s gaze shifted towards the refrigerator, as he longed for the familiar heaviness from having consumed a large but satisfying meal. Tension filled the air, pressing down on him. Despite the cool rush of air and the bright light that flooded the small kitchenette as the refrigerator door clicked open, time seemed to fold back upon itself. In that moment, Cas felt overwhelmed, knowing that he couldn't stop any of it now.

His father materialized before his eyes, face contorted with rage, as he had pinned his terrified wife against the wall with sheer brute force and the imminent threat of more violence to come.

Cas’s hands were already instinctively moving without his consent as he located last night's leftover pizza, a package of mini powdered donuts and the brand new box of Cookie-O’s cereal Anna had just brought home from the store. A quick scan of the freezer had revealed a gallon of vanilla ice cream his Aunt had tried to place just out of reach. Shoving aside frozen broccoli and healthy choice TV dinners, Cas had easily freed the ice cream from its hiding place before finding a spoon and spreading his entire cache of food items out across the counter.

He felt so very small as his father turned to face him, momentarily loosening his grip on his wife’s slender wrists.

The lid discarded without a second thought, Cas had attacked the gallon of ice cream with a large spoon, shoveling vanilla into his mouth as fast as humanly possible. Spoonful after spoonful, the cool sweetness of the ice cream mingled with the bitterness of his memories. Each bite was another desperate attempt to drown out the echoes of that night and chase away the pain before it became too unbearable.

His mother took advantage of her husband’s distraction and tried to make a break for it. Cas’s heart jumped into his throat as his father spun around, grabbing his mother by her hair, with his unyielding strength.

Before too long, Cas’s spoon hit the bottom of the ice cream carton. Dazed by the perceived loss, he raised the empty container to his lips, gulping down any residual melted goodness until nothing remained.

His parents scuffled until his father finally succeeded in overpowering his mother once more, pushing her down face first in one complete gesture. Cas’s mother lost her balance and fell to the ground.

With a heavy sigh, Cas forced himself to keep eating, his eyes now fixated on the leftover pizza before him. Driven by ravenous phantom hunger pains, Cas devoured slice after slice, the flavors of greasy cheese and savory toppings providing a momentary distraction from the torrent of haunting images flooding his mind.

Cas glanced down in horror at his mother’s now motionless form. A steadily growing puddle of blood had begun to engulf her body, seeping through her cotton nightgown.

Cas's fingers moved with a frenetic urgency, searching for something, anything, that might keep the demons away. His hunger persisted, clawing at his insides, refusing to be silenced as he grabbed the mini powdered donuts off the counter, tearing the packaging away.

Cas fled his father's rage, desperately seeking safety. He rushed into the bathroom, fumbling to lock the door behind him. Collapsing inside the bathtub, Cas curled into a ball, wrapping his arms tightly around his knees while trying to shield himself from the terrors of the outside world.

White powdery residue clung to Cas's fingers as he had shoveled all twenty-four miniature donuts into his mouth in rapid succession. Sugar coursed through his veins, eliciting a brief thrill of endorphins. Chewing mechanically, Cas was distantly aware of his increasing physical discomfort. One hand dropped to his waist absent-mindedly as he pushed the elastic waistband of his pajamas pants farther below the curve of his overstuffed belly. 

His father’s panicked cries permeated the air in the aftermath of what he’d done. His voice sounded alarmingly unhinged until he remembered his son and shifted focus towards trying to bang down the bathroom door.

Ripping into the massive box of Cookie-O's cereal next, Cas extracted the interior plastic lining before casually discarding the empty cardboard box onto the floor. Proceeding to cram fistfulls of miniature cookie-shaped pieces into his mouth, Cas desperately tried to stave off the intensity of unshed tears, fearing they would consume him.

When he finally ran out of food, a flicker of realization crossed his face as the room around him started to lose its form, and the once-familiar surroundings began to merge into a disturbing kaleidoscope of unreality. When the floor beneath him shifted before melting away, he felt the distinct sensation of treading water as if some powerful current were trying to drag him below.

“I know you know where she hid my gun, Castiel! You need to tell me where your mother put it right now or so help me I’ll be forced to-!”

Frantically searching through the shelves for more food amidst the chaotic emotional replay of his most traumatic memories, Cas was overtaken by fear until his hands had landed on the bottle of cooking oil his aunt kept near the stove for frying things.

Cas was acutely aware of his father’s ability to rip their house apart down to the floorboards until he found what he was looking for.

Although Anna’s economy sized Canola oil was an unusual choice, it was technically considered a food item. Still caught in the past and too far outside of his own body to function, Cas sought out whatever means necessary to physically weigh himself down. So he unscrewed the cap, as his fingers closed around the thick plastic bottle and took a big sip. As the viscous, oily liquid coated his tongue and slipped down his throat, the act of drinking something so thick and filling began to serve its purpose. 

When the gun went off, it was louder than anything Cas could have ever possibly imagined, yet still did little to drown out the subtle thud of his father's body hitting the floor.

Cas continued to drink until the thought of consuming more left him dangerously close to vomiting. Cradling his overfull stomach, Cas stumbled into the adjacent living room, slumping hard against the couch. Then slowly, returning to his body once Cas’s eyes tilted downwards as he palmed the sturdy firmness of his distended belly. As his anxiety and emotional distress faded into exhaustion, Cas allowed himself to accept the rush of comfort flooding his senses. Although Cas knew he should probably feel guilty, or at the very least disgusted with himself, for surrendering to his unhealthiest of coping mechanisms. Having been on antipsychotics for over a year now, it had become that much harder to hate himself, even amid times of crisis.

***

As light filtered through the kitchen windows, casting a gentle morning glow, Anna Milton appeared already dressed in her nursing uniform. Surveying the small kitchenette and adjacent living room, Anna’s gaze settled upon her loudly snoring nephew and the remnants of yet another midnight feast, the third one this week by her count. With subtle concern etched into her features, Anna approached Cas where he slept, balled up on the living room couch.

Anna paused to observe Cas as he rested, noting how one of his arms pressed tightly against the worn polyester upholstery, while the other clutched his rounded midsection as though he were experiencing discomfort. Ignoring the beads of sweat dotting across Cas's forehead, Anna bent down slowly before reaching out and carefully freeing one of her nephew’s arms. Gently pressing two fingers against Cas's radial artery at the pulse point, she made a conscious effort to avoid touchinging the angriest of his vertical scars. After counting to sixty twice just to make sure, Anna released a deep sigh, exhaling a torrent of breath she hadn't realized she’d been holding in.

Taken aback by her nephew's striking resemblance to her late sister, Anna felt further compelled to alleviate all the hardships life had thrown Cas’s way. While the continued nighttime binge eating was far from ideal, it stood out in sharp contrast to Cas’s ongoing struggles with anxiety, depression, and PTSD. Having nearly lost him several times throughout his short life, Anna treasured every day she had parenting her eccentric young nephew. She was also profoundly grateful for her continued collaboration with Dr. Mia Vallens, a psychiatrist whose expertise had been consistently demonstrated over the years through her innate ability to help Cas navigate his traumatic past.

Sticking to a strict routine of weekly therapy sessions alongside a carefully prescribed regimen of psychiatric medications seemed to be, at last, proving effective in keeping Cas's intrusive suicidal thoughts under control. So, even though moments of grief still crept in from time to time, when she missed the boy he could have been, Anna had learned to value Cas’s enduring resilience above all else.

"Time to wake up and take your meds, Cas," Anna whispered, keeping her voice intentionally low to avoid startling him.

Cas woke up slowly, his blue eyes blinking in the morning sun. He stretched, sat up, and then managed a small, tired smile that Anna suspected was meant purely for her benefit.

"Hey there, sleepyhead. It seems like you had quite the culinary adventure again last night," Anna said, pausing when she noticed Cas looking somewhat bewildered.

“Maybe you had bad dreams last?" Anna suggested placing a comforting hand on Cas's shoulder.

"I, uh, I don't entirely remember, but it seems like I might have gotten carried away again. I'm so sorry, Anna," Cas confessed, fidgeting with the fraying hem of his shirt.

"Oh Cas, you don’t have to apologize for anything. Just remember that you can always wake me overnight if you need to, alright? I'm here to support you, Cas," Anna said, trying to reassure him.

"Thank you Anna, I truly appreciate that," Cas said quietly, still looking away.

With a gentle squeeze of her nephew’s shoulder, Anna made her way back to the kitchen, determined to help him start the day on a positive note. She retrieved Cas's weekly pillbox, checking over each compartment’s meticulous organization. It was a testament to the structured routine they had both had a part in while trying to manage Cas’s ongoing mental health. Filling a tall glass with cool, filtered water, Anna placed it neatly beside the box of medications on the countertop. As she arranged these items, a soft smile crept across Anna’s face, a quiet reflection of much progress Cas had made in just the last year alone. Soon he would be turning fifteen at the end of the summer, and while the passage of time was evident in his growing maturity, her unwavering support for him remained constant in their shared journey towards happiness and well-being.

Removing a clean bowl and spoon from the dishwasher, Anna searched high and low for the recently purchased box of cereal. While she was well aware that Cookie O's probably wasn’t the healthiest choice for her nephew, his meds still needed to be taken with food. Additionally, the familiar childhood favorite always seemed to help, even during Cas's most challenging days. As her gaze swept across the kitchen, Anna frowned momentarily, giving in to disappointment over the now-empty cereal box laying discarded on the floor. Taking a deep breath, Anna tried to center herself, before refocusing her attention back onto Cas. Forcing herself to remember that Cas’s progress always came in small steps, could not be rushed, and that setbacks were a natural part of the journey.

***

Cas had woken up slowly, still grasping at details of what exactly had transpired overnight. Although he’d already figured out that he must've overdone it again with the eating thing, given Anna’s persistent hovering rather than her getting ready for work. While Cas genuinely tried to avoid all the negative shit that might push him into a bout of overthinking, he couldn't ignore the signs of having had another episode. Summoning the will to stand, Cas couldn't ignore how much heavier his body was getting. Touching his lips, he found them and his fingers to be smeared thickly with grease. The hint of acid reflux burned down the back of his throat, and there was considerably more tension gathering in his lower back from carrying so much new and extra weight. All these strangely familiar discomforts combined could only mean one thing, and judging from Anna’s increased weirdness around him, Cas hardly needed to guess what.

"Well, I guess we're out of cereal again," Anna said, her voice thick with annoyance as she paced around the kitchen.

Cas glanced up from taking his third pill out of five. His aunt was standing in front of him, her eyes closed, as she hugged an empty cereal box closely against her chest. Cas watched her for a moment, then went back to taking his piss. Studying his last one intently before swallowing it down with the remainder of water from his glass. There was no question how majorly his current medications were impacting his health both in positive and negative ways. This is especially true now that Dr. Vallens had increased all his dosages to accommodate his increased weight.

While Cas wasn’t terribly concerned about side effects like increased appetite or nighttime eating, he understood why Anna was so concerned. Not so long ago, he’d gotten very depressed, to the point where he couldn't even get out of bed or even go outside. Everything had felt impossible and he’d regrettably shut Anna out completely. Instead withdrawing further into himself, Cas made peace with despair, and had almost given in to his darkest, most impulsive desire.

Having survived long enough now to have begun processing his trauma and accepting his continued existence, Cas knew he couldn’t afford to slip back into his previous headspace. Food had always been there for him though, no matter what challenges he faced. So, while consistently overeating probably wasn't the healthiest way to deal with his stress, Cas figured it was a pretty good trade-off considering the alternative.

Flitting around the kitchen, Anna offered to make Cas scrambled eggs only moments after he’d resigned himself to frozen waffles instead. Even though the waffles were the extra healthy whole grain kind that tasted like cardboard, Cas knew better than to enable Anna when she was already cutting it close to being late for work. Busying himself with finding a clean plate and grabbing the peanut butter, Cas ignored the way Anna’s eyes followed him as she pretended to refill her already full coffee to-go mug.

Cas was well aware of his aunt's increased worries about his health, even if she never specifically said anything out loud. Mostly because It was usually a lost cause to convince her otherwise, and since he’d started steadily packing on more weight over the last couple of months, the whole issue had become a pretty awkward topic for both of them. Sometimes, Cas wished he could press a magical button that would make him normal again. Maybe then Anna would calm down long enough to try and relax.

"I want you to promise that you’ll do something for me today." Anna said, stopping abruptly while locating her car keys.

"Okay, and what would that be?" Cas snapped, failing to mask his sudden defensiveness.

"Relax, Cas, it's nothing too serious," Anna said, pausing briefly to select her words with care.

"I'd really like it if you could spend some time outside today while I'm at work,"

"Fine." Cas said, rolling his eyes with dramatic intent.

"Oh, come on, Cas," Anna teased, her eyes sparkling playfully.

"Fresh air and vitamin D can do wonders for the soul!"

Although he remained skeptical, Cas always found it hard to resist Anna's infectious enthusiasm. They had been addressing his avoidance of going outside in family therapy for a while now, and Cas was fully aware of his tendencies toward agoraphobia. Now that summer was nearly in full swing, he had exhausted all of his weather-related reasons for staying inside.

"Here's an idea," Anna continued, her voice carrying a mischievous tone.

"If you’ll agree to set foot in the backyard for just ten minutes today, I'll treat you to cheeseburgers and fries for dinner."

Cas's resistance wavered as his lips had twitched into a faint smile. Even though he knew Anna was only trying to sweeten the deal, he needed her to know that he could manage this one small task on his own, without added incentive.

"It's alright, Anna," Cas said eventually .

"You don't have to bribe me. I'll go outside if that's what you want."

Anna's eyes softened with gratitude as she pulled Cas into a quick hug.

"Thank you, Cas," she said, her voice filled with warmth.

"I appreciate this more than you know."

As Cas watched Anna heading to her car, he made a mental note to try to embrace the outside world at some point during his day. Little did he know how this decision would profoundly change everything about life as he knew it, forever.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Just Like Dad (2 of 4)

Content & Warnings: referenced military career, domestic fluff, some humor, canon-typical swearing, Kyle is a girl dad

Word Count: 935

A/N: Part of the Imagines & What If Series

An evening of peace is interrupted when Kyle has to answer questions about what he does for a living.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // just like dad masterlist

Peace is shattered.

It always is when you have a kid.

It’s not just scraped knees or melted ice cream splattered on the pavement. Sometimes, peace is shattered because your child is a feral goblin who decides disturbing your sleep is the perfectly logical thing to do.

Wearing a pink onesie, standing in the bedroom doorway with her little fist raised and clutching a thin piece of paper, you and Kyle’s six-year-old daughter is ominously backlit by the hallway light. Kyle blinks, a little stunned by the sight before him. You shift beside him, one hand reaching out to him, murmuring his name.

There are a few seconds between her sudden appearance and the leap onto the bed. She spider-crawls like a thing out of a horror movie.

“Bloody hell,” groans Kyle, pinching the bridge of his nose as his daughter perches like a gargoyle next to him.

“Daddy,” she whispers.

You are already awake, turning over onto your back with squinted eyes as you’re blasted by the bright light of the hallway.

Before you can even speak, Kyle is shaking his head, placing a hand on your shoulder. “I’ve got this,” he groans, sitting up to turn on the bedside light. You glance at your daughter before returning to your original position.

Kyle rests his forearms on his bent knees, staring at his daughter who gazes at him with a peppy eagerness like she’s just eaten a cake heavily coated in icing. She shouldn’t have this much energy at this late hour.

“Go to bed,” says Kyle. “It’s past bedtime.”

She clutches the thin piece of paper. “I wanted to show you earlier.”

While Kyle is typically indulgent when it comes to her, he’s not feeling that way at the moment. He only wants to sleep.

“It’s late, bug,” he replies. “Tomorrow.”

She shakes her head, her tight curls bouncing slightly. “I didn’t know what to put here. You don’t talk about your job.” She points to a spot on the paper, and Kyle frowns as he peers closer.

Fuck.

It’s one of those questionaries where the child answers all these questions about themselves, and several pertain to her parents and what they do. She has left that entire section blank. Kyle understands that schools do this so that the students can build identity in their community while also making connections with classmates.

But she’s right. Kyle doesn’t talk about his job. At least not with her. You, his wife, are an entirely different story. You, the one who has been through nearly all of it, is the only person who truly knows everything. His daughter is far too young to know specifics or to fully comprehend the sheer violence of his work.

“You’re right, love. I don’t.”

“Why?” she asks automatically.

This is not a conversation he wants to be having. She needs to be in bed, and Kyle should be asleep and spooning you before he has to take this feral fiend of a daughter to school in the morning.

Kyle sighs and runs his hand over his face. “Where is this coming from?”

Her face falls slightly, and then becomes steel. “I want to be like you,” she says. “I want to grow up and be strong.”

No, babygirl. No. You don’t want to be like me.

You stir beside him, shifting like you’re about to turn and join the conversation. But Kyle knows you need your rest, and this isn’t the sort of conversation he desires to have this late at night.

That hardness melts away, and Kyle’s heart fractures slightly. She’s so small and yet so determined. Her little fist clutching the paper shakes slightly as if asking him is taking all her strength.

“Give me the paper.” Her smile widens as she hands it over. “And go turn off the hall light.” She groans loudly and Kyle shushes her as she throws herself off the bed and drags herself to the hall.

The light flicks off, and then she’s rushing back to him. He pats the side of the bed, and she crawls in, curling up next to him as he grabs the book off his bedside table.

“Pencil?” he asks, and she whips one out, her smile wide.

Kyle snorts and snags it, twirling it end-over-end as he tries to formulate an answer to the questions. Some of that gentle humor slips away, falling into memory, all the lead and blood and carnage comes back, roaring in his ears.

He takes a deep breath, silencing it all.

Graphite touches paper, and Kyle begins jotting down answers to all the things his daughter didn’t answer. She rests her head against his shoulder, watching the pencil scratch across the paper.

When he’s done, he presents the paper, and his daughter takes it reverently, as if all the secrets she doesn’t have are now suddenly before her. She does not take the pencil as she slips off the bed and starts to sprint for the door. She comes to a halt and turns on her heel, running back to him.

“Thanks, Daddy,” she says a little too loud before kissing his cheek and heading out into the hall.

The bed shifts, and Kyle turns to look at you as you twist to face him.

“What did you write?” you murmur.

Kyle sighs and shuts off the bedside light. He snuggles in, and you reach for him in the dark. Wrapping his arms around you, he pulls you close, inhaling your scent, allowing his mind to drift toward dreaming.

“A nice truth,” replies Kyle softly just before he slips into sleep.

[wangxianficfinder]

In the mood for...

May 10th

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1. Hello! I have an ITMF request when you have the time. I was recently thinking about the fic, "Heaven Has No Rage" by flipfloppandas and I particularly like how it developed the relationship between WWX and YZY. Do you/the community know of any other fics where she is able to reconcile her role as his mother by going through something difficult with him? Thank you! @balleyboley

some things go forward by everythingispoetry (T, 73k, WangXian, Modern AU, Hospitals, Teenage Drama, Slow Burn, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Happy Ending)

🔒❤️ the thing with feathers by RoseThorne  (G, 43k,wangxian, Transmigration, Time Travel Fix-It, Illnesses, Family, Scars, Memory Loss, Angst, Fear, Recovery, Sharing a Bed, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Good Parent YZY, Referenced Sexual Slavery, Blood and Gore, Sexual Tension, Arranged Marriage, Grief, Adoption, POV Third Person, POV Alternating, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Good Parent LQR, Clairvoyance, Butterfly Effect)

~*~

2. for the next itmf: are there any fics where wangxian just enlope and leave everyone behind to deal with it? where there are actual, something that makes the characters actually feel the, im not sure if this is the right word, consequences of an enlopement? or that wangxian just gave up making other people accept their love and just do what they want? like they don't care that they don't have approval.

i have seem many fics where they say that they want to get married expecting the disapproval of everyone, and magically no one has anything against it or at least not the characters that matter, or the ones that are against it are won over. the enlopement are usually used as a last resource not actually needed

thinking about everyone's book canon characterization, does anyone know a fic that resembles what anything about what im talking about?

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3. Howdy! Wondering if you had any pirate or siren au would love any especially longer completed works thank you mods!!!!

luminous by azuresummer (E, 50k, WangXian, WIP, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Dom/sub Undertones, Dominant LWJ, Submissive WWX, Modern, Merpeople, A/B/O, Dark LXC, Dark LWJ, Possessive LWJ, Protective LWJ, Crime Boss LWJ, Omega WWX, Siren WWX, Merperson WWX, Hurt WWX, WWX Whump, Precious WWX, Spoiled WWX, WWX Has a Fear of Dogs, Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Nesting, Scenting, Power Imbalance, Obsession, Kidnapping, Organized Crime, Mild Gore, Minor Character Death, Excessive Amounts of Tenderness, Pining LWJ, Dark WangXian)

The Ocean Between Us by catbrainedschemes (M, 41k, WangXian, Modern AU, Historical, Reincarnation, Inspired by K-Drama | Korean Drama, legend of the blue sea, Fairy Tale, Fluff, Pining, Eventual Smut, Happy Ending, Childhood Sweethearts, Siren!wwx, Human!LWJ, Romantic Comedy, star-crossed lovers, Past LWJ/others (brief mentions), Slow Burn, Angst, Finding each other again)

💖 oceans, drowned in starfire by stiltonbasket (T, 30k, wangxian, LXC/NMJ, modern, novelist LWJ, merman WWX, accidental baby acquisation, family secrets, domestic fluff, happy ending)

melt away (in your arms) by saccharinings (M, 32k, WangXian, Siren WWX, Prince LWJ, Fluff, Inspired by Legend of the Blue Sea (TV), The Little Mermaid Fusion, Mermaid WWX, Angst with a Happy Ending, Amnesia, with a twist ;), Hopeful Ending)

In Whispers, In Songs, In Silence by JessicaMDawn (T, 20k, WangXian, LXC & LWJ, LSZ & LWJ, Sirens, Siren WWX, Canon Divergence, Blood and Violence, Implied/Referenced Torture, Canonical Character Death, but not as many as canon, Sign Language, WWX is a Good Guy, Creature Fic, Перевод на русский | Translation in Russian)

🔒 He's a Pirate by GrimmShadows (T, 23k, WangXian, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death, Pirate AU, Siren WWX, King WWX, Canon-Typical Violence, Captain LWJ, Angst with a Happy Ending)

🔒 Secrets of Yunmeng's Lotus Lakes by Cy_an_Blue (M, 73k, WangXian, one-sided SS/WWX, A/B/O, Omega WWX, Mermaid WWX, Cultivator LWJ, Younger WWX, Younger LWJ, teenage WWX, teenage LWJ, No War AU, Non-Traditional A/B/O Dynamics, Falling In Love, Getting Together, Interspecies Romance, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Awkwardness, Injury Recovery, Injury, Blood and Injury, accidental injury, Accidental Stabbing, Cultivation Accidents, Near Death, Near Death Experiences, waterborne abyss, Kidnapping, Non-Explicit Torture, Mentions of major injury, People are evil, people are greedy bastards, Fluff, Attempted Sexual Assault, SS being ick, Courtship, Courting Rituals)

The Treasure of Maroon Bay by fenaly (M, 30k, WangXian, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Pirates, Fantasy, Romance, pirate captain LWJ, merman WWX, first encounters, minor character death in the subplot, mentions of magical things)

Still Waters by WiseDawn13 (E, 21k, WangXian, Modern, Merpeople, POV WWX, Human WWX, Merman LWJ, Light Angst, wangxian's parents are alive and well, speedrun, WWX is Loved, Chaotic Bisexual WWX, LWJ is a Confident Gay, Happy Ending, Art Embedded, Hand Jobs, Oral Sex, what you doing out here with all this cock? double dicked up on a thursday afternoon, merji has two dicks, Double Penetration in One Hole, Anal Sex, wangxian are horny and in love, Getting Together, Marriage Proposal, Implied Switch WangXian)

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4. Do you know a fic where with we have a lot of friendship moment between Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang and where Huaisang is a protective friend (and a Wangxian shipper)?

Story-Shaped by lingering_song (T, 13k, NHS & WWX, wangxian, Post-Canon, Chief Cultivator LWJ, Inventor WWX, Found Family, NHS needs a new hobby, And apparently that’s spoiling his Wei-Xiong, Mentioned Character Death, Alcohol, Protective NHS, WangXian Endgame, Not JC Friendly, Not particularly gentry sects friendly overall tbh)

A Future Family In A Broken Past by Hauntcats (T, 121k, wangxian, WWX & Wen Remnants, Jiang Family & WWX, WQ/MM, JYL/NHS, LXC/NMJ, Not Jiāng Family Friendly, Not Cultivation World Friendly, WWX Needs a Hug, Family Dynamics, What is a good family?, Fear of emotions does not excuse abuse, Not Jiang Clan Friendly, Angst with a Happy Ending, Time Travel fix-it, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon Divergence, LXC needs a hug, Everyone Needs A Hug, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Not YZY Friendly)

Hold on to the reason that you stayed series by tawaen (M, 63k, WN & WQ, WN & MXY, WN & WWX & WQ, WangXian, Ghost General WN, Ghost WQ, Eventual WAngXian, Canon Divergence, WQ comes back to haunt the cultivation world, Bad idea to kill the one person who didn't kill anyone, Cultivation World Critical, Not JC Friendly, Wen Remnants Deserve Better, Sīsī Deserves Better, MXY Deserves Better, POV WQ, Discussion of Golden Core Reveal, Anti-reconciliation, Outsider POV on Jiāng dynamics, POV NHS, Martial God WWX)

I Have Arranged to Tie You to Me by xxxMiaHikarixxx (G, 51k, WIP, WangXian, Lan protective team, Time Travel, Past, LWJ oriented, Arranged Marriage, Boys In Love, Soulmates, Fix-It, Jiang siblings, not jiang parents friendly, Soft LWJ, Protective LWJ, Genius WWX)

🔒 like mayflies wandering series by RoseThorne (E, 21k, NHS & WWX, WangXian, Assassination Attempt(s), Introspection, Regret, Travel, Post-Canon, POV Third Person, POV WWX, Ghosts, Reconciliation, Exhaustion, Pining, Pre-WangXian, Pining, Feelings Realization, Illnesses, ennui, Found Family, Porn Reading, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Manipulative NHS, Memories, WWX Needs a Hug, Post-Canon, Pining WWX, Friendship, NHS is a Little Shit, Qi Deviation, Resentful Energy, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Triggers, Fainting, Anal Sex, Getting Together, Love) ConfessionsGrief/Mourning

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5. Do you know stories where Wei Wuxian's parents are not dead but send into the future so they arrive after the events of the canon and try to find their son?

The Return of Cangse Sanren by milesofheart (T, 52k, WIP, WangXian, CSR/WCZ, Canon Divergence, CSR & WCZ Live, Angst with a happy ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Burial Mounds days, BAMF CSR)

An Inch of Grass, and All The Sunshine of Spring by ChilianXianzi (T, 1k, WIP, wangxian, CSSR/WCZ, CSSR & LWJ & WCZ, canon divergence, time travel, grief/mourning, parent-child relationship, found family, fluff & angst)

The Long Winding Road Homeby Admiranda (T, 13k, CSSR/WCZ, wangxian, flash forwards, Time Travel, Post canon, WWX’s parents come to post canon mdzs, not for JC fans, fluffy family reunions, mocking LQR to his face, mocking JC to his face, wild rumors abound)

Wei Changze's weird day by Weiyingbestboy (Not Rated, 1k, WangXian, Time Travel, Canon Divergence, WangXian babies) this is actually the opposite if you're interested! WWX + juniors appear in the past and freak Wei Changze the fuck out

The lark and the willow by Mhalachai (G, WangXian, CSSR/WCZ, Time Travel, Angst with a Happy Ending, Chief Cultivator LWJ, More parental issues than you can shake a stick at, make time travel have consequences you cowards, yunmeng bros reconciliation)

Love you always, in any form you come in by YumichanHamano (G, 7k, WangXian, CSSR/WCZ, Time Travel, Fluff, happy birthday wei wuxian!, he can have his parents back as a treat :) )

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6. I would like to find a fic where Jin Ling learns more about his parents death because the boy didn't have had a accurate version in his life and he want to know the truth.

🧡 Vow by draechaeli (E, 216k, Canon Divergence, BeliefGod!WWX, Adoption but WWX birthed them all, Pregnancy Kink, Mpreg, minor male lactation, Consensual Non-Consent, Light Bondage, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con because JGS, Mentions Canon Typical Incest, Canon Typical Violence) Chapter 8 of Vow has Wei Wuxian's spirit tell Jin Ling the truth about how his parents died.

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7. Hey! Have you ever read a book which is reacting to the book or series but it has covered the part where the golden core reveal is done? All the other books in this type are WIPs even before covering half of the book and never reaching that part T^T

💖 The Path by Seastar98 (Not rated, 279k, wangxian, JC/WQ, JYL/JZX, watching the series, Fix-It of Sorts, Canon Divergence, Golden Core Reveal, CQL Verse, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF NHS, check chapters for specific warnings)

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8. Hi! Itmf LXC takes care of WWX, not just in a sick fic sense, but also as a good gege, supportive brother that doesn’t have anger issues, caring brother in law looking out for his chaotic didi @vi-sky

🧡 Stunted, Starving Juvenility by TomatenMark (E, 803k, WangXian, WIP, Fix-it of sorts, Talisman master WWX, Not JFM Friendly, Study Arc, Getting together, Fluff and Angst, Engagement) long af, LXC is pretty supportive in this

💖🔒 Hoards and treasuresby  apathyinreverie (T, 21k, WangXian, Siblings, Family, not particularly Jiang friendly, YZY Bashing, slightly darker Gusu Lans, LXC being the   best brother, Some manipulation, But with the best of intentions, and   not between wangxian, Dragon LWJ, Fox WWX, Smitten LWJ, Fluff, perfect happiness, adorable WWX, Romance, Some worldbuilding, courting) supportive in a slightly dark way but still supportive

how a smiling homeless child melted jade hearts and got a home by anxiouswreck0_0 (T, 41k, wangxian, canon divergence, lan WWX, childhood friends to fiances, fluff & angst, fix-it of sorts, character death, possessive LWJ, dark LXC) WWX grows up in the Lan sect, mother hen LXC

🔒 Unstoppable by Netrixie (T, 149k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Eventual Happy Ending, Unreliable Narrator, Slow Burn, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Wolf-shifter WWX, Resolved Sexual Tension, Resolved Romantic Tension, Fix-It, Werewolf, Shapeshifters) love the brother/brother-in-law relationship in this series - in another part, WWX is the protective brother for LXC

A Fortuitous Bad Encounter by VividestList (E, 26k, WangXian, LXC & WWX, A/B/O, Omega WWX, Alpha LWJ, mild dubcon mentioned, in that WWX thinks that he used his heat to get LWJ to have sex with him, but we all know that’s a lie and he just can’t take a hint, LWJ was drunk tho, but that dubcon was also canon, mentions of mpreg, Mpreg, Misunderstandings, Mating Bites, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Kid Fic, Dirty Talk, Possessive Sex, possessive LWJ, Riding, Praise Kink, Rough Sex, Hair Pulling, Breeding Kink) LXC supports WWX when he gets pregnant and keeps the secret for him

there are pieces of you, of us by MusicPlotter (T, 4k, WangXian, LXC & LWJ, LXC & WWX, Canonical Character Death, Minor Canon Divergence, They don't get eloped, That's it, Angst, Fluff, LXC Is A Good Brother, WWX Deserves The World) LXC looks at chaotic WWX and says "that's a free didi"

I Made My Choice and It Was You by merakily (G, 10k, WangXian, LXC& WWX, Fluff and Angst, Domestic Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Baggage, PTSD, Nightmares, In-Laws, Post-Canon, Family Bonding) post canon bonding

I'll Protect That Pretty Smile by legendlanzhan (T, 16k, WangXian, LXC & WWX, LQR & WWX, WIP, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Fluff, Some angst, Childhood Friends, Friends to Lovers, No Sunshot Campaign, Good Uncle LQR, Good Sibling LXC, WWX is a lan, LQR finds WWX a week after his parents die and brings him to the cloud recesses, LQR is trying his best actually, LXC is the best big brother, every single lan loves WWX bc that's what he deserves, WWX and LWJ get to make lots of friends! not even JZX is off the table!, head disciples WWX and LWJ) incomplete, but LQR finds WWX before JFM, good older brother LXC

Nursery Rhymes by manaika (M, 96k, WangXian, NieLan, Modern AU, Inexperienced WWX, Experienced LWJ, Reconciliation, Budding Love, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Unreliable Narrator, Medical Inaccuracies, Slow Burn, Past Character Death, Childhood Trauma, Found Family, Past Injury, Nurse! WWX, Doctor! LXC, Teacher! LWJ, Character With A Heart Condition (Major), Past Incarceration (Major Character), Underage Character With Leukemia (Minor)) wonderful friendship/found family relationship btwn WWX and LXC

Please Let Me Take Care of You by incidentallyWangxian (G, 9k, WangXian, LXC & LWJ, LXC & WWX, Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, Sexual Assault, ish, kinda assault, drugged WWX, big brother LXC, Nightmares, the horrifying ordeal of being known, Modern, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Hurt WWX, crying WWX) WWX gets roofied, LXC comes to pick him up

🔒 Calling out for justice by marhikit (Not Rated, 10k, WangXian, LXC & WWX, LQR & WWX, JC & WWX & JYL, QHJ & WWX, WIP, Not JC Friendly, Not Jiang Family Friendly, canon JC characteristic) LXC uncovers scars/abuse WWX has suffered

O Moon, My Midnight Lover by stiltonbasket (G, 2k, WangXian, LXC & WWX, married wangxian, Introspection, Character Study, best bro-in-law LXC, Parenthood, Mild Angst, just a smidge yknow, Happy Ending, wangxian have babies, they are the cutest things) LXC and WWX bond while waiting for LWJ to come back from a night hunt

🔒 the thread may stretch or tangle but it will never break by RoseThorne (E, 91k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Soulmates, Self-Esteem Issues, Fix-It, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, PTSD, Handfasting, Panic Attacks, Getting Together, First Time, Aftercare, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Torture, Scars, Chronic Pain, Golden Core Reveal, First Time, Switching, sex-related injury, LWJ Stays at the Burial Mounds, LSZ is a Wèi, Good Sibling JC, Dissociation, Burial Mounds Settlement Days)

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9. I'm in a mood for a fic where a modern LWJ somehow ends up in the past, where he meets WWX (preferably if the modern day is no cultivation while the past does have cultivation, though that isn't a requirement.)

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10. hiiii itmf fics where wwx is very affectionate but lwj reacts rudely then misses it and grovels when wwx stops and/or starts hanging out with someone else. arranged marriage would be a nice plus! @nalalie

the river and the sea by sasamelons (T, 7k, WangXian, Soulmates, Arranged Marriage, Misunderstandings, Angst with a Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, Falling In Love, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Mutual Pining)

much sweeter than by mellowflicker (T, 3k, WangXian, Royaltyish, Arranged Marriage, a little bit of, YLLZ WWX, Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending)

True Gold Fears No Fire by defractum (nyargles) (M, 69k, WIP, WangXian,  Royalty AU, Ancient China, Wuxia, Historical Inaccuracy, Arranged Marriage, Identity Porn, Mutual Pining, Emperor!LWJ, empress!wwx, Eventual Happy Ending, Misunderstandings)

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11. hi! itmf fic where lwj becomes a member of the jiang, either before or after wwx’s return; i’ve read Delight in Misery by njreseki but i’m interested in other takes on the idea!

The Price of Freedom by meyari (T, 32k, WangXian, JC/LWJ, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death, Past Character Death, Grief/Mourning, PTSD, Post-War, Children In Danger, Past Rape/Non-con, Warning: Jin Guangshan, Physical Abuse, Chronic Pain, Canon-Typical Violence, seriously a lot of grief and loss, no resurrections (yet), Not LQR Friendly, Execution, excessive discipline, Platonic Relationships) note that the LWJ/JC tagged is actually platonic, this is JC POV, and there is significant Lan Sect-bashing

this blood in my mouth by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 3k, WangXian, LSZ & WWX & LWJ, Post-Canon, POV LXC)

~*~

12. hi, thank you so much for this! i’ve wanted something just like this in other fandoms but never actually found one before! i’m in the mood for time travel fic, but with one of jiang cheng or wen qing as the time traveler, and with chengqing as one of the endgame ships alongside wangxian. thank you again!!!

For Both Of Us (And Time Is But A Paper Moon) by sami (E, 65k, wangxian, JC & WWX; JC & LWJ, LWJ & LXC, Canonical Character Death, Mentions of Rape, not explicit but definitely referenced, Time Travel, Not Everyone Dies au, Canon-Typical Violence, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, WWX/babie tendencies, WQ is a queen in any reality, Healing, Yunmeng Shuangjie, Canon Divergence, Asexual JC, First Time, Getting Together, BAMF JC, BAMF LWJ, WWX finds new ways to be oblivious, seriously it surprised even us)

Lynchpin by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 103k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Time Travel, Fix-It)

The Stranger Inside My Son by Mademoiselle_A (T, 65k, JC & YZY, JC & JFM, JC & WWX, JC & JL, JC & JYL, WangXian, JC & JGY, WIP, Time Travel Fix-It, But from an outsider's POV, JC is So Done, JFM's A+ parenting, YZY's A+ Parenting, Both are not great but this is not a bashing fic, JC-centric, But from JFM's POV lol, POV Outsider)

💖 With Surgical Precision by metisket (T, 20k, WQ & WN, WQ & WWX, WangXian, Time Travel, Families of Choice, sibling bonding through murder)

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13. Itmf wangxian fics with wen ning? He feels such a background character in many fics, I want some wwx and wn together!! Their dynamic is so cute like, wy: " you there wen ning? " wn: " for you young master? Always"

Ps: I'm not asking them in a romantic sense

Pps: no moder fics please

break by justdoityoufucker (T, 3k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, LXC Critical, JC Critical, Canonical Character Death, Guānyīn Temple Scene, BAMF WN, Protective WN)

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14. Are there fics with actually head disciple wwx in action? Like not just mentioning but actually doing??

🔒 The Water's Right, It's Sinking In by GravityWinsAgain (T, 9k, WangXian, Fluff and Angst, but the angst is all in lwj's head, seriously nothing outside of his own internalized panic is happening, LWJ visits lotus pier, And has a breakdown about it, Canon Divergence, No Sunshot Campaign, da-shixiong wwx, Repressed lwj, But they figure it out in the end, Happy Ending, lwj has emotions and is not pleased, Location: Lotus Pier)

~*~

15. Please find fics where wwx is a very influential person across the cultivation world, not post canon, but when everyone (EVRYONE) is alive . Thankyou.

Become Tomorrow by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 39k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, WWX is BSSR’s disciple)

Debts of a Child series by Hauntcats (M, 115k, WangXian, dark, YZY Bashing, Not Jiang Family Friendly, Angst and Feels, lots of anger, JC Bashing, not Jiang friendly, Angst with a Happy Ending, Content warning for icky spiders in later chapters.)

Field Trips with Wei Wuxian by antebunny (G, 42k, WangXian, WQ & WWX, NMJ & WWX, JZX & WWX, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Found Family, Angst with a Happy Ending, Misunderstandings, Miscommunication, protective Jiang siblings, Unreliable Narrator, due to WWX assuming ppl hate him, JYL is gonna dropkick her baby bro into having friends)

Dispersing Clouds by dreamingofcake (E, 166k, WangXian, WIP, Canon Divergence, Genius WWX, Inventor WWX, Not Jiang Family Friendly, Abusive YZY, Canonical Child Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Eventual Sex, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm (Background Character), Background Character Deaths, child deaths, Canon JC, Good Uncle LQR, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Cultivation Sect Politics, Homophobia, Heteronormativity, Feelings Realization, WWX is Not Oblivious)

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16. Hii! There was this itmf post where someone asked for inventor wwx! Can you please find the post? I've scrolled down for like 5 times already but I can't find it , please help

Lay my body down by tawaen (M, 48k, WWX & WQ, WWX & WN, WangXian, WWX & JYL, Canon Divergence, Time Travel, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Eventual WangXian, No Golden Core Transfer, Not Cultivation World Friendly, Canon-Typical Violence, Not JC Friendly, Tagged just in case because there is no redemption arc here, What if WWX saw the first siege of the burial mounds and said Nope to the war, Original Character(s), OC point-of-view for one chapter for plot reasons)

In My Defence, I Have None (For Never Leaving Well Enough Alone) by SemiLocalCryptid (T, 73k, WangXian, WIP, Time Travel Fix-It, Established Relationship, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ, POV NHS, but only for the first chapter, POV Alternating, between Wei WuXian and Lan WangJi for the rest, WWX may have no sense of self preservation but he does have a husband, No one touches LWJ’s husband, NHS has no more fucks to give and will save his brother just watch him, WN is very confused about needing to breathe again, but is ultimately happy about it, BAMF WN, WN needs a hug, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, WQ is a queen and everyone should fear her, Fluff, Inventor WWX, Gratuitous amounts of Wangxian fluff)

🧡 One Can Keep A Secret (If He Does Not Know It’s There) by H_Belle (T, 5k, WangXian, Modern Cultivators, Inventor WWX, Secret Identity, Identity Reveal, YLLZ WWX, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Pining LWJ, POV WWX, Background Wangxian Getting Together, Jiangs are only mentioned in the passing, inspired by a tumblr post)

🧡🔒Truth Will Out (when caught on video) - End_OTW_Racism! by KizuKatana (E, 178k, WangXian, WN & WWX & WQ, graphic depictions of violence, modern cultivation, canon divergence, YZY abuses WWX , caught on camera, partial core removal, WWX kicked out of Jiang sect, livestreamer WWX, meet ugly, dual cultivation, smut, no war)

There's An App For Everything by Sweetlittlevampire (G, 4k, WangXian, Modern Cultivation, Rivals to Lovers, Friends To Lovers, Competition, Demon fighting, Getting Together, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Night Hunts, Wangxian x Caves is the real ship here, Happy Ending, puns, Humour)

~*~

17. Hi! 🤗

This is for the ITMF. Lately I've been looking for some good time travel fix it fics.

A) WWX, LWJ or both traveling together to the past.

B) The juniors travel to the past and fix everything. (WWX protecting squad would be awesome!).

Long fics would be appreciated. Happy Endings, please.

Thanks for everything! 🥰💕 @wangxiansgirl

17A)

A Matter of Time series by mrcformoso (E, 70 k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, POV LWJ, POV JC, Dark LWJ, Manipulation, Grooming, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Consensual Underage Sex, Except problematic please read warning in first chapter, Blood and Violence, Insane LWJ, Manic LWJ, Conditioning, WWX is a Lán, Minor Character Death, Confused JC, Golden Core Reveal, Good Friend NHS, WWX Isn’t Adopted by the Jiāngs, Abusive Jiāng Family, Jiāng Family Bashing, Jiāng Family Critical, POV NHS, Dark NHS, Anal Sex, Marathon Sex, Dual Cultivation, Qīnghéng-jūn Lives, LWJ Has a Big Dick, WWX Self-Lubricates, Plot Twists, Porn With Plot, Scheming NHS, Manipulative NHS, BAMF LWJ, BAMF WWX) Dark!LWJ travels into the past

A Narrow Bridge by FrameofMind, Jo Lasalle (Jo_Lasalle) (E, 700k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Slow Burn, Getting Together, First Time, Pining while fucking, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Angst with a Happy Ending, CQL Verse, almost everybody lives/almost nobody dies, epistolary-ish, canon-ish side pairings, radishes) Is 700,193 words long enough? ;)

Ad Oblivione by Baph, HikariNoHimeWriter (M, 70k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, POV Multiple, Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Identity Reveal, Golden Core Reveal, Cultivation World Critical, Not JC Friendly, Abusive YZY, Angst with a Happy Ending)

Regrets by antebunny (G, 38k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Time Travel, Fix-It, Temporary Character Death, Explicit Descriptions of Love, and other squishy feelings, Angst with a Happy Ending) Both WWX & LWJ time travel in this one

Here With Me ‘verse Series by iamwish (T/G, 80k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, wwx turns this into a no war!au, Canon-Typical Violence, Period-Typical Homophobia, Bad Parent YZY, POV WWX, POV LWJ, POV JC, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, WWX Has PTSD, and also depression sometimes, Unreliable Narrator, Character Death, Blood and Gore, BAMF WWX, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, there’s some elements of, Grief/Mourning, Character Study, POV JYL, Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death)

Family by Quiet_crash (G, 57k, WangXian, JC & WWX & JYL, LXC & WWX, JYL & LWJ, Time Travel Fix-It, Grief/Mourning, Loss of Parent(s), Established Relationship)

The Wild Geese’s Tomb by The Feels Whale (miscellea) (T, 66k, WangXian, Time Travel AU, fixit, Temporary Character Death, all women live no women die, LWJ’s canonically intense feelings about everything all the time, WWX’s clinical depression gets treated and blamed on resentful energy, navigating gay marriage in ancient china by utiliizing class snobbery for your own ends, if you’re not sure whose fault anything going on in here is then blaming NHS is probably a good bet, WWX plays ‘summon LWJ’ it’s super effective!, the ‘unexploded cow’ approach to dealing with your enemies)

Time and Time Again by Jammingjackelopes (M, 115k, WangXian, WIP, Canon Divergence, Time Travel Fix-It, Husbands, Established Relationship, Temporary Character Death, BAMF LWJ, Consensual Kink, Domestic Fluff)

17B)

Time, Time, Time by skeletonofaplant (G, 44k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, LSZ & WWX, JYL & JL & JZX, LJY & LSZ, Time Travel Fix-It, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Identity Porn, Identity Reveal, Angst, Fluff, Junior Quartet Dynamics, Time Travelling Junior Ensemble, Junior Ensemble Shenanigans, Humor)

❤️ Tragedy is Not the End by Hobbsy3 (T, 358k, wangxian, Time Travel, Torture, Hurt/Comfort, Golden Core Reveal, Canon Divergence from Qiongqi Pass, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Yunmeng sibling bonding, good dad wwx, good dad lwj, JZX Lives, JYL Lives, Junior Quartet Dynamics)

~*~

If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

[destielembarker]

My James’

Summary: Bucky and Logan fight over Reader. Established open relationship with Bucky but Logan wants his spot.

Tags: Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Sloppy Makeouts, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Baggage, Domestic Fluff, Logan Being an Asshole, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Reader-Insert, Avengers Tower, Crying, Men Crying

Warnings: READER HAS DOMESTIC VIOLENCE PAST FROM PREVIOUS RELATIONSHIP

Notes: as always, please comment! I wanna hear your thoughts!!

[punkshort]

Chapter warnings: graphic descriptions of violence, death, blood, language, alcohol, sexual tension etc :)

A/N: I needed to give these poor characters a break lol

Chapter Thirteen

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader, pre-outbreak and post outbreak

AU (the only thing I kept was the outbreak, Joel, and Tommy's characters. Joel's backstory is different, and the way he finds Jackson is different. I may include Ellie one day, I just haven't planned that far)

Fic Summary: You worked for Joel and Tommy a few months before the outbreak. The outbreak happens, and you and Joel get stuck traveling the country and keeping each other safe. Neither of you spoke about the feelings you had for one another pre-outbreak, and in a post-apocalyptic world, it seems like survival should be your only focus. But feelings can't be ignored forever.

Fic tags: Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI), Smut, Language, Canon-Typical Violence, Alcohol Use, Age Difference (Reader is 10 years younger than Joel), slow burn, mutual pining, angst, trauma, SA referencing later but I will put a big warning on those chapters

April 2004

Spring was in the air and the days were getting warmer, which meant you both needed new clothes. You rifled through the closet of the house two doors down, tossing clothes that were both your sizes onto the bed behind you. Whoever lived in the house you were currently staying in was much larger than you and Joel, so you made rags from their clothes, and you ended up searching inside the house down the street.

In the past two months, neither of you had seen an infected or a living person unless you left the area to explore the nearby town. You were beginning to feel like the two of you were living in a little bubble, completely cut off and alone, and it was wonderful. You let yourselves relax, laughing and joking, and you felt comfortable going out by yourself to explore the neighborhood. The houses were practically untouched and stocked with all kinds of food that you could use, and Joel felt confident about starting a fire in the seclusion of the forest. You would make dinner together at night, and afterwards you would play cards, read, or do crosswords in front of the fireplace. It was overwhelmingly domestic and peaceful.

Joel had originally said he wanted to stay there until you were healed and the weather warmed up, but it's been a couple weeks of spring and he hadn't suggested leaving yet. You didn't bring it up because it was as close to normal as you thought you would ever feel again, and you were scared to let it go.

Almost every morning, you woke up with Joel's arms wrapped around you. You were both so used to it by now that it no longer felt forbidden, but it was expected. There hadn’t been another charged moment like that morning in your childhood bedroom, but there had been a few moments here and there that caused your mind to wander. Like when you would make dinner together in the kitchen and Joel would slip by you, gently placing his hands on your hips as he brushed past while you prepared food, or when you sat together reading in front of the fireplace and he draped his arm along the back of the couch, his long fingers grazing your shoulder.

You became an expert at avoiding your feelings for him, so you never acted on those moments. Instead, you distracted yourself with the new world around you. Joel would spend much of his time during the day hunting in the forest and gathering wood for the fire, and you would explore each house on the street, first for supplies, and then for entertainment. You had found a romance novel tucked into the bedside table of the house you were currently rummaging through, deciding at the last minute to bring it back with you for something to read.

You tucked the book in the back of your pants and grunted as you lifted the pile of clothes off the bed. Your wounds had healed pretty well, but you were still a little stiff and you had a few nasty pink scars along your ribs to show for it. You wandered down the street, barely able to see over the clothes, as you made your way back to your white house with blue shutters. Joel had been resting in a rocking chair on the front porch, waiting for your return, when he saw you struggling with the clothes. He jogged down the stairs to meet you halfway and grabbed some from your arms.

“Thanks,�� you said, readjusting the clothes as you made your way to the house. “When did you get back?”

“’Bout ten minutes ago. I got lucky early and got us a small doe, probably just a yearling. I got it in the garage, I’ll skin it later.”

“That’s great, we haven’t had venison in a long time,” you said, climbing the stairs up to the front porch. You dropped the clothes unceremoniously on the couch in the living room, deciding to tackle the sorting later.

“What’s this?” Joel asked, yanking the book from the back of your jeans. He glanced at the cover, his eyes widening, and he shot you a teasing smirk. You huffed and tried to tug the book from his hand, but he was too quick, dangling it above your head and then turning around so he could thumb through the pages. He stopped on a page and skimmed a quick paragraph, giving a low whistle. You wrapped your arm around him trying to grab the book, but he anticipated it and twisted away, taking a few steps backwards as he continued to read.

“This is dirty!” he teased, and you felt your face flush.

“I didn’t know what it was, I just grabbed it for something to read!” you lied, lunging forward again but he held his arm out and tucked the book behind his back. You grumbled irritably, your hands on your hips as you glared at him. He tsked at you and waved his finger back and forth.

“Liar,” he said, grinning as you felt another wave of heat roll over your skin. “You’re blushing, you knew what this was.”

You had enough of him embarrassing you now, so you decided two could play that game.

“Fine, maybe I did,” you said, narrowing your eyes at him. “A girl’s got needs, you know.”

You smirked as you watched his teasing grin fade instantly from his face. His gaze darkened as he regarded you for a moment. You stood your ground, hands still on your hips and looking at him defiantly but you could feel your fast heartbeat and the butterflies in your stomach betraying you. He took a step towards you, then another. You played it cool, refusing to break eye contact and let him win, but you couldn’t stop from swallowing nervously. You tilted your head back to continue to meet his gaze once he came to a stop right in front of you. Now that you were up close, you noticed there was a slight pink flush dusting his cheeks. His lips were parted, and you swore he was breathing faster than normal.

“Is that right?” he murmured to you now, his voice unmistakably heavy with desire. You didn’t trust yourself to say anything without it coming out three octaves higher than normal, so instead you slowly nodded your head.

You must have parted your lips without knowing it because he finally broke eye contact to look down at them hungrily. You shifted your weight slightly as you felt your arousal pooling in your underwear. You dropped your arms to your sides and rose to your tip toes, slowly leaning up towards his face. He could smell the soap you used this morning and felt your exhale tickling his neck as you rose higher. He was practically in a trance as his eyes fluttered closed and he leaned down a fraction, eagerly awaiting the feel of your mouth on his.

Once his eyes shut, you swung your arm out and snatched the book from his hand, jumping back and holding it in front of you triumphantly. His eyes snapped open and he held back a groan, the look of disappointment evident on his face.

"That wasn't very nice," he said. His whole body was on fire, and he prayed you didn't notice the growing erection through his jeans.

"Aww," you gave him a teasing frown and pout, tapping the book on his shoulder as you passed him, "don't worry, I'll let you borrow this when I'm done."

After dinner, you and Joel settled into the living room like you always did, today choosing to play cards in front of the fireplace. You were closely examining your hand and struggling to remember the rules of poker Joel had taught you last week. Joel watched you as your brows furrowed and you shuffled the cards around.

"Hey," he said softly, placing his cards facedown and putting his hand out to push yours down as well. You looked up at him curiously, dropping your hands to your lap and fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. "Can we talk about somethin'?"

Your breath caught in your throat when you saw the softness behind his eyes and heard the tone of his voice. This is it, we're finally going to talk about it.

He sighed and leaned back in his chair. "I've wanted to talk to you about this for a while, but I wasn't sure how you'd feel about it," he began, and your heart started thudding in your chest. "Just know that we can do whatever you're comfortable with," he continued, your eyes widening. Holy shit. He took a deep breath and leaned forward on the table, inches away from your face. You thought you were going to pass out from how fast your pulse was racing. "What do you think about gettin' a CB radio?"

You froze, not sure you heard him correctly.

"What?" you asked, your voice cracking.

"A CB radio," he repeated, leaning back in his chair again. "I bet either the fire department or the police station in town's got one. Figure we can listen in on one, maybe there's other survivors, communities... maybe we can even find Tommy."

"Oh!" You said, shaking your head to clear your mind from the wrong direction your thoughts had gone. "Yeah, sure, let's do that."

"I know you really like it here, and I do too," he said, picking his cards back up, "but it's not safe to stay here forever. We gotta have a plan. People'll eventually find us here. Call." He pushed a red button you were using as poker chips into the center of the table.

You nodded and bit your lip, looking back at your cards. You let out a shaky breath, your adrenaline still rushing through your veins.

"You alright?" Joel asked you innocently, noticing you were jittery.

"Yep, I'm fine," you said, sounding clearer now. "I fold." You tossed your cards face up on the table and leaned back as Joel swept the pile of buttons into his hand.

You yawned and stretched your arms above your head. "I think I'm gonna go get ready for bed." You stood and picked up your flashlight to make your way upstairs.

"Did ya think I was talkin' about somethin' else?" He asked lowly, right as your foot hit the first step. You whipped your head around to find him smirking with his arms crossed in his chair. Your jaw dropped and he winked as your cheeks began to feel hot.

"That wasn't very nice," you repeated his words back to him before ascending the stairs to bed.

New Virginia, Iowa was a very small town that consisted of a few churches, a library, a handful of restaurants and a post office. The whole town appeared deserted except for a few infected, most of which the pair of you took care of when you first explored the town back in March. Joel had trouble trying to break into the front door of the police station, so you tried your luck with another entrance attached to the small parking garage. You shifted your backpack on your shoulders as you waited for him to jimmy open the lock. Whenever you left the safety of your house you always made sure to pack both your bags with all your necessities. Even though the past couple months have been quiet and relaxing, you refused to let yourselves be caught off guard. You brought your supplies and weapons with you whenever you left the neighborhood, never knowing for sure if you would have to make a run for it one day.

You glanced around the parking garage once again before hearing the telltale click of the lock breaking.

"Shit," Joel whispered harshly. You turned back to look at him and saw blood dripping down his palm. You dropped your pack to the floor and rummaged around for a handful of rags, pressing one into his hand before digging for some rubbing alcohol. You both sat down on the floor, his hand held out to you while you gently cleaned his cut, first with some water, then with the alcohol. He hissed at the sting and clenched his eyes shut while you pressed a clean rag against the cut and squeezed his other hand comfortingly.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, removing the rag to assess the damage. He opened his eyes and watched as you tended so delicately to his injury. He stared adoringly at your face while you were distracted, taking in the way you bit down on your lower lip in concentration, the loose strands of hair that dangled in front of your eyes, the little frown your brows made. He had been so distracted that he didn't even notice you were done patching him up. You looked up at him and smiled.

"Good as new. Well, I think, anyway. Cut doesn't look that deep, I don't think you need stitches." He looked down and saw you had expertly wrapped his hand tightly with a couple of rags. He flexed his fingers as he tested his mobility.

"Thanks," he said, standing back up and looking back down on the floor at his broken hunting knife. He sighed. "I really liked that knife."

"We can find you a new one," you said, pushing the door open a crack to listen inside. You pushed it open all the way and scanned your flashlights over the room. As expected, it was empty. You both walked past a few desks towards the back of the room, opening up each door until you found a gun locker. You were about to offer to work on the lock instead but Joel walked up and the door swung right open. He turned back to you with his eyebrows raised and shrugged.

“Small town, I guess,” he said, looting around for more ammo and then pulled out a handgun. He checked that it was loaded and handed it to you, remembering yours was stolen from your house after you left it with Tim and Lucy. You double checked the safety was on and shoved it in the back of your jeans, pulling your light jacket over the top. Joel couldn’t find any knives, but he did find two retractable police batons. You tested it out with a flick of your wrist, the baton extending instantly in your hand, then collapsed it so it would fit in your jacket pocket.

You left the armory and went to explore the police chief’s office where Joel found a CB radio on top of a filing cabinet next to the desk. He flipped it around to examine it, then picked up the transceiver and microphone, shoving it into his pack.

“Maybe we can find a car battery in the parking ramp before we go home, get this thing workin’," Joel said, but all you heard was the word home. You grinned like an idiot once his back was to you, leading you out of the police station.

Joel pried open the hoods on the cars remaining in the parking ramp, trying to find a battery that still had power and was in good condition. You yawned and meandered around the corner, looking for something to occupy yourself while he worked. You saw a car with the passenger door open and what looked like duffel bags inside. You glanced at Joel over your shoulder, his head buried under the hood of a red sedan.

“I’m gonna go take a look at this car down here, see if there’s anything we can use,” you said. He turned around and looked at the car you had pointed out. He nodded before saying, “Be careful.”

He was muttering to himself as he unhooked yet another dead battery when he felt the cold metal barrel of a pistol press against the back of his head.

“Don’t say a word, or we kill the girl,” a deep voice said quietly behind him. We. He froze and swung his eyes around frantically, trying to think of anything he could do to get the upper hand. He glanced down at the revolver on his hip, but the man behind him already saw it. “Two fingers. Pick it up slowly, and hand it over. Slow.”

Joel did as he was told, his heart slamming against his ribs as he listened for any indication that you were hurt.

“Stand up, turn around, hands in the air,” the man said, and again, Joel obeyed. He was faced with two men, one of which was now sheathing his knife in favor of Joel’s revolver. He looked behind them, trying to spot you by the car you said you were looking through, but you weren’t there. He began to panic, and his vision narrowed.

“Take whatever you want, just don’t hurt her,” he said gruffly to the men, but his eyes gave away how fearful he was. They chuckled, slinging Joel’s backpack over their shoulder along with the rifle he had set down next to it. “Please,” he tried again, begging.

“Don’t worry,” sneered the man holding his revolver. “We got a friend taking real good care of her.”

Before Joel’s mind could even process the implication, he heard a man’s wild, high-pitched scream coming from the other end of the parking ramp, around a corner none of you could see beyond. The two men exchanged nervous glances, then one single gunshot rang out, echoing over the concrete walls. The men stared at the corner of the garage, guns still aimed on Joel, waiting to see who had pulled the trigger.

Joel tried to control his panicked breaths until he saw you round the corner with a look of anger and determination on your face. In one hand was your handgun, and the other was reaching into your jacket pocket, flicking open the police baton. Your eyes were glued to the two men threatening Joel, your jaw clenched, and nostrils flared as you suddenly picked up your pace and made a beeline towards the one holding Joel’s revolver.

Joel could tell you had surprised them with your bold plan of attack, so he took advantage of it and lunged forward, tackling the man who originally held a gun to his head. He knocked the gun out of his hand, and it skidded under a parked car. Joel began mercilessly beating the man’s face with his fist, watching as he broke his nose and then his jaw, only stopping when he noticed his own blood began to flow from his knuckles and the injury on his palm. As he stood up, he pulled the knife from his boot. The man’s eyes shifted towards the knife and then back at Joel with a wild look in his eye.

“No! No, no, no, please, I’ll –“ before he could finish, Joel rammed the knife into the man’s chest with a grunt. He made sure he was dead before pulling the knife out and stumbled in your direction, but as it turned out, you didn’t need any help.  You had the other man on the floor with your foot on his chest as you removed your own switchblade from the side of his neck.

You turned around, gasping for breath from the exertion, and wiped the blood from your face with the sleeve of your jacket. Joel strode right up to you and yanked you into a tight hug, pressing the side of your head against his chest. You could hear how fast his heart was beating as you wrapped your arms around his waist and closed your eyes. He finally allowed you to pull back, but he held your face in both his hands, looking you up and down for any injuries.

“I’m fine, I promise,” you told him, covering his hands with your own and gently tugging them downward. You folded the switchblade and baton back up and put them away before leaning over and picking up Joel’s revolver, along with the dead man's knife. “Told you we'd get you a new one,” you joked, trying to lighten the mood as you could tell Joel was still shaken from the fight.  He let out a small chuckle before picking up his belongings.

“What the hell did ya do to that guy to make him scream like that?”

“I stabbed him in the balls,” you said, glancing sideways at him and catching the wince on his face.

“Fuck the battery, let’s go home,” he told you, wrapping an arm around you for one more half hug before heading back out the way you came.

Once you got back to the house, you each took a turn washing the blood and grime off your bodies before preparing some venison to eat for dinner. You had made a packet of instant mashed potatoes and you shared a can of green beans as you settled on the couch to eat. Halfway through the meal, Joel's eyes lit up and he turned towards you.

"Wait here, I forgot I found somethin', I'll be right back," and he headed out to the attached garage to bring back two bottles of white wine. You gasped, grabbing them from his hands to look at the labels in the light of the fire.

"When did you find these?" you asked, still in shock.

"Couple days ago in the basement of the green house. I was settin' them aside for a special occasion, and seein' as you kicked so much ass earlier, I figured today is that day," he said, heading into the kitchen to find a corkscrew and glasses.

"Well, I don't know if I kicked ‘so much’ ass, I think I kicked an average amount of ass," you giggled, sitting back down to finish your meal as he poured you each a glass. You tried to ignore how casually you spoke about killing other people as you gratefully took a glass from his hand, taking your first sip and letting a moan escape your lips. Joel smiled and went back to finishing his dinner, trying to ignore the sound you made.

Your plates long discarded and on your second glasses of wine, you insisted on properly bandaging the cut on his palm, now that the bath he took had washed away all the dried blood. You tipped his hand towards the light of the flames as you diligently sanitized the cut again before sticking a big, rectangular bandaid over it.

"Maybe you should take some antibiotics," you said, gently running a finger down the bandage. "That parking ramp was filthy." He shrugged as he watched you lazily tracing his cut through the bandage.

"Yeah, maybe, I'll take one tomorrow," he mumbled. He could tell his alcohol tolerance was next to nothing after all these months because the wine was going right to his head. You flipped his hand over and ran your fingers gently along his damaged knuckles. His breath hitched at the contact, and he took another sip of wine to hide it. Maybe the wine was going to your head, too.

You dragged your gaze up from his hand to his exposed forearms, remembering how fixated you were on them just a year ago. You bit your lip and reached for your glass, in the process dropping his hand to rest on your knee. You almost gasped, then had to stifle a laugh at how absurd it was to have such a reaction to a simple touch on your knee. You took another sip of wine and blamed the fact you hadn't had sex in nearly a year as the reason. The time you had sex with Justin wasn't exactly fulfilling, so it hardly counted. You stole a glance in Joel's direction as he stared at the open fireplace and sipped his wine. You thought back again to that night at the bar when Joel asked you to go home with him. You could kick yourself now for not doing it. You knew he was still attracted to you by the way you saw his pants tighten yesterday when you teased him with the book, and months ago back in your bedroom when you had almost kissed. That day, you were ready to take things further with him, even with the understanding that all he was willing to offer you was the physical part of a relationship.

"Why are you lookin' at me like that?" he asked you without taking his eyes off the fire.

"Like what?" you replied lowly.

"You know what," he said, turning to you now. His beautiful brown eyes were a shade darker as he looked at you, his fingers curling around your knee, this time pulling a gasp from you.

You decided to go for it. You put your glass down and slid over to sit a little closer to him as he eyed you warily. You trailed your fingertip along the back of his hand again, admiring how long and thick his fingers were before dragging a line up his forearm and wrapped your hand around it gently.

"Can I tell you a secret?" you asked huskily, staring down as your thumb rubbed his arm.

"Mhmm," he murmured, entranced by the contact.

"When we first met, I couldn't stop thinking about your arms. Every time I saw you... I was just so distracted," you flicked your eyes up to his face and watched as he held his breath at your words. He finally found his voice and brought his eyes up to look at you.

"That wasn't exactly a secret," he whispered, "even Tommy noticed that."

You hummed, refusing to let any embarrassment throw you off. You watched as he took another sip of wine and tried a different tactic.

"Do you remember the last time I had wine like this?" you asked, raising your eyebrow. You saw his Adam's apple stopped bobbing mid swallow. That did the trick.

"Yes," he said roughly, looking straight ahead at the fire again, his grip on your knee tightening as you slowed the circles your thumb was making on his arm.

"That was a fun night," you said, willing him to look at you again.

"Followed by a not so fun day," Joel replied, trying to throw some cold water on the conversation. You sighed, growing frustrated as he put his glass down on the coffee table.

"Right, the outbreak," you muttered, your hand releasing his arm.

"No," he said, finally turning towards you. "Because that's the day I fucked everything up." His eyes burned into yours, desperately trying to say the words.

"You didn't fuck everything up," you told him, scooting even closer to him on the couch. You leaned forward and put a hand on his knee for balance, then placed a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth. He let out a shaky sigh and wrapped his other hand around your wrist.

"What are you doin'?" he asked, fighting the urge to give in.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" you said back, planting another small kiss in the same place. His grip on your wrist loosened and he swallowed hard.

"Please," he croaked out, his expression pained when you leaned back to look at him. "Don't do this again. I don't think I can take it."

You frowned, confused. Maybe he didn't realize you now understood what he wanted. You reached out a hand to rest on the back of his neck.

"It doesn't have to mean anything," you murmured to him, licking your lips. "I get it now."

Now Joel was the one to frown and pulled his head back a fraction to discourage your kiss.

"Is that what you want?" he asked, unable to hide his heartache as he searched your eyes for an answer. Maybe the wine was getting to you more than he thought. You paused, genuinely perplexed now.

"Isn't that what you want?" you asked him, your brows knit.

"What are you talkin' about?" he questioned louder now, turning his whole body to face you, your hands dropping to your lap as he removed his hand from your knee.

"The day we fought in your office, the day I quit, your birthday!" you said, your voice getting louder with each word.

"What does that have to do with this?" Joel asked, his voice filled with despair. What the hell were you talking about?

"You got mad at me for not sleeping with you!" you all but shouted now, getting angry you had to spell it out for him. "I didn't want to just have sex back then, but I'm trying to tell you now that I'm fucking fine with that, if that's all you want!"

You stared at each other for a minute, both panting slightly as you got increasingly agitated. Joel shook his head and rubbed his hands up and down his face. Then he suddenly stopped and his hands grasped your shoulders, bringing you an inch closer.

"Do you got any idea what you do to me?!" he exclaimed, almost shaking you. You could hear the pain in his voice as it cracked. "'Course that's not all I want. I want everything! I want you!"

Your breath caught in your throat at his admission, completely stunned. You shook your head now, finally asking him the question that weighed on your mind for months.

"Then why did you call me a whore?" you asked, softly now, your voice laced with sadness. He slowly dropped his hands from your shoulders, casting his eyes downward in shame. His eyebrows furrowed as he brought his fingers up to pinch the bridge of his nose, sighing before dropping his hand to his lap and looking back up at you.

"I..." he began, chewing on his lip and casting his gaze around the room to collect his thoughts before continuing. "I saw you that day, before you came up to my office," he said, looking back at you now, your lips parting as you tried to think back. He could see the confusion in your face. "I had no right to feel, to think, you were mine," he added, "but when I saw you flirtin' with him, I just lost it."

You frowned and pursed your lips, still not making the connection.

"Flirting with who?" you asked, cocking your head to the side.

"That guy in your department, the one that was at the bar that night!" He said, throwing his hands in the air. "I saw you dancin' with him in the goddamn copy room. It's my own fault, I knew we weren't anythin', but I guess I'd hoped... and that fuckin' copy room... it just set me off," he said, looking deep into your eyes before finally saying, "I'm so sorry."

You remembered now. He had seen you dancing with Kyle in the copy room. Kyle. You shouldn't have found it funny, but the wine coupled with how ridiculous your fight seemed now made you giggle, which then escalated to full blown laughter as your covered your mouth, turning your face away from Joel's intense stare. He raised an eyebrow at you, still not finding it funny. You saw he was patiently waiting for you to explain, so you wiped a stray tear away from the corner of your eye and composed yourself.

"Joel... Kyle was gay," you said, still trying to hide your smirk. You watched his face as he absorbed the words, his pained expression slowly softening and his eyebrows relaxing.

"I'm so fuckin' stupid," he whispered, his bandaged hand reaching out to grasp the back of your neck and pulled you into him, his lips locking onto yours. You whimpered as you brought your hands up to rake through his hair, his other hand coming to rest on your hip before sliding down your leg. He leaned forward to push you backwards onto the couch. Hovering above you, he hooked your leg around his waist and rested his hand back on your hip, licking at your bottom lip. You eagerly opened your mouth at his request, deepening the kiss as you ran your tongue alongside his own, tasting the remnants of the wine between you. You moaned into his mouth, removing one hand from his hair and wrapping it around his back, trying to bring him closer. You were desperate to taste and feel him everywhere, a year of yearning for him finally coming to a head.

Joel could hardly see straight from the adrenaline coursing through his body. Every nerve ending felt alive. He thought he ruined his chance of ever being with you. He had resigned himself to a life where he was content with just being near you and occasionally got to hold you at night. His emotions were so overwhelming that his movements were becoming chaotic, his hand briefly sliding from your hip to cup your ass, then back to your hip. His other hand moved from the back of your neck to hold your jaw in place as he broke contact from your mouth for a moment, just to flip his head in the other direction before sliding his tongue back inside your mouth.

You arched your back off the couch to press your body against him. You tugged at the back of his t-shirt and wrapped your other leg around his waist, pulling him all the way down so he was laying on top of you. You lifted your hips up to grind against the erection straining against his jeans, eliciting a groan from Joel, when you felt something sharp digging into your thigh. You let go of his shirt and brought your hand around to his chest, pushing him up and breaking the kiss. You had to tug gently on his hair to keep him from latching his mouth onto your neck.

“Wait,” you gasped. He removed his hand from your hip and pushed his fist into the couch cushion, holding himself above you. “What is that?” you asked, flicking your eyes downward. He paused, confused, as he looked down at his cock rubbing against your inner thigh through his jeans, then back up to you.

“Not that,” you said, removing your hand from his hair and swatting playfully at his shoulder before reaching down to his pocket. “This.”

“Oh,” his face broke out into a warm smile now as he removed his hand from your jaw and dug into his pocket, pulling out the Texas shaped keychain. He dangled it between you, still smiling as he watched the realization hit you. Your jaw dropped as you stared at it and then gently reached out to take it from him, turning it over in your hands before looking back up at him. You couldn’t help it. Tears sprung to your eyes as you swallowed roughly, biting your lower lip. He pressed his wounded palm back against your jaw, using his thumb to pull your lip from your teeth and then wiped a stray tear from your cheek.

“I’m so fuckin’ sorry, sweetheart,” he whispered, running his thumb across your cheek again. “Please forgive me.” You choked back a sob at the pet name he refrained from calling you for so long. The last time you heard it, it was said with such cruelty and disdain, and to hear it now, said with so much love and adoration, nearly broke you. You could only nod your head enthusiastically, not trusting yourself to speak as you looped the keyring around your finger and pulled him back down to you.  

This time, the intensity behind your kiss escalated. You gently raked your fingernails through his hair and then up and down his back, your tongues swirling together, quiet moans leaving your mouth and being swallowed up by his as you ground your hips up into him, begging him to take things further. He broke your kiss to allow you to get some air, but he continued, leaving gentle kisses along your jaw, nipping at your earlobe, then traveling down your neck, occasionally giving your skin a warm lick if he felt he had left a mark with his teeth. You reached down with the keychain still looped around your finger, and fumbled hastily with his belt buckle. He stopped his assault on your neck and pulled back, taking his hand from your face to stop yours from undoing his belt. You frowned as you laid underneath him, gasping for breath.

“Not tonight,” he panted, drawing a whine from you. “We’ve been drinking,” he continued, bringing your hand away from his belt to rest above your head, where he pressed your wrist into the arm of the couch. “I wanna take my time,” he leaned forward, gently pressing his mouth against your swollen lips before pulling back, “and remember,” giving you another languid kiss, “every,” he pressed his lips against your cheek, “single,” kissing the tip of your nose, “sound you make for me,” he finished, massaging his lips tenderly against yours again.

You groaned against his mouth and you felt his lips tug into a smile.

"It'll be worth it, I promise," he whispered against your lips, his grip tightening against your wrist as you squirmed under him. He tugged on your wrist as he rolled off of you and onto his back, pulling you onto your side and under his arm. You rested your cheek against his chest and drew lazy patterns on his stomach, while he absentmindedly dragged his thumb over your upper back and stared into the fire. You slid the keychain off your finger and tucked it back into his jeans pocket with a smile. You couldn't believe he had it, after all this time, and never said a word.

"Why don't we go up to bed?" he mumbled as his eyes slid shut. You nodded and nuzzled your face into his chest.

"In a minute," you told him, your eyes closing. He hummed in response before his thumb slowed its movement on your back and you heard him softly snoring. It wasn't long until you had also drifted off, your arms wrapped around each other.

Chapter Fourteen

Tag list: @chiogarza, @sparklejumpropequeen-777, @shotgun-shelby

[farfromstrange]

Do No Harm: A Matt Murdock x Reader Series

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Masterlist | Series Masterlist (coming soon)

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Doctor!Reader

Set during: Daredevil Season 1

Summary: Two years ago, you fled across the country, leaving your past far behind you. Dedicated to helping those in need, you only barely escaped the shadows that haunted you. But you managed; you changed your name, acquired an entirely new identity and a New York medical license – all for a chance at a new life. You somehow managed to get a job at Metro General in Hell’s Kitchen, rented a new apartment and made new friends. The person you claimed to be did, anyway. Everything was going well. Too well. Until one day, you run into Matt Murdock. In an instant, the safe haven you built for yourself starts to unravel, and you find yourself forced to face the very life you tried your hardest to escape.

Warnings: Angst, domestic violence, implied/referenced child abuse, substance abuse, canon typical violence, injury, mental illness, strong language, eventual smut, Black Suit, medical jargon (but I’m not a doctor), Reader has a fake name that is used for a big portion of this story ("Olivia Carter"), no y/n

A/n: I've been watching a lot of medical dramas lately to cope with the drama of life. This is how this idea came to life. I couldn't help myself. As mentioned in the warnings, Reader has a fake name due to her history, but it still a reader insert. I use "you" and she/her pronouns when referring to the Reader. So you can either see her as an OC or as yourself. I hope you guys enjoy this little gem! See more information below.

18+ for EXPLICIT CONTENT. MINORS DNI!

More under the cut.

ONE: Night Shift (coming December 1st)

Excerpt from Chapter 1

[…] Matt doesn’t want to be a liability, he doesn’t want to be the reason the people he loves get hurt, and yet it continues to happen time and time again.

Maybe he’s cursed. It’s the only explanation for how things are going for him now. Maybe God has a grudge and finally decided to exercise his right to make his life a living hell. There is an infinite number of possibilities, but none of them make sense.

He’s the anti-hero of his own story and that of everyone else who ever dared to let him into their lives. He’s his own worst enemy, his personal saboteur. His unwavering pride has a tendency to get in the way of his happiness, which often leads to more bad than good, but admitting that would leave him vulnerable and exposed—he can’t get hurt again.

It’s better to push the people he loves away before he can hurt them and force them to walk out on him the same way everyone else in his life has ever since he can remember. At least in his twisted mind, that’s true. […]

-> Story Aesthetic

If you want to be added to the tag list, please let me know! I do separate ones for all of my series because not everyone who filled out the tag list form wants to read an entire series. So, this will be tagged separately and only those who want me to.

[aconflagrationofmyown]

Patch It Up Baby

A Sarge and lil Mama fic

Summary: It’s 1977 and Jesse Presley has never loved his family more or had more chances to prove it. When America’s last dynasty implodes, it‘s up to the Presley heir to mend and rebuild what’s left. His first and least glamorous commission is to take his little sister Daisy Mae to rehab in Texas after she embraced their daddy’s rock n’ roll lifestyle a little too thoroughly. In the great game-plan of getting mama and daddy back together, keeping up appearances and bolstering up his siblings’ spirits, what Jesse doesn’t expect is Donna. Just…Donna.

Warnings: mentions of past hard drug use, mentions of withdrawls, a brief but recounted callous comment encouraging death, children dealing with parent’s divorce, publicity of said divorce, paparazzi stalking, a panic attack, Jesse being a bit hardcore like his father to a stalker and mentions of his previous violence, brief sexual scene and occasional mentions of sex.

My thanks to all the dears who helped me so much with this, who added their lines to this and aided in the plot, @prompted-wordsmith @elvisabutler @stylespresleyhearted @ab4eva @butlersxbirdy @eliseinmemphis to mention a wee few

NOTE: In this chapter the baby that is referenced as growing inside Elaine was conceived during Elvis and Elaine’s divorce, and ends up being Danny. Jesse refers to his upcoming sibling as a “last” and “surprise” baby, which he was. However he was neither the last nor the only surprise for Elaine and Elvis. Danny came and a few years later was followed by Shiloh. So uh, that means better times must be around the bend, right? But of course, Jesse wouldn’t know that. ;)

2nd Generation Refresher: as this is out of order and missing many key pieces, I understand it may not make perfect sense yet but I hope y’all enjoy getting a glimpse into the family later on. You’ll meet Elvis and Elaine over the phone and the older kids as they grow into their maturity. Everyone is a bit spread out in their different pursuits in this one compared to the last one shot when it was all young, familial domestic chaos, but there’s little updates in here I think y’all will enjoy. Xoxo

Jesse’s long and ringed forefinger pecks peevishly at the Rehab Center’s grimy rotary dial. He waits for the phone connection to be made with studied nonchalance, leaning casually against the bleach white wall in a tiny alcove, checking like a studied dandy for dirt under his nails. It’s a photogenic sorta lean, one boot crossed over the other and bell bottoms flaring in a way that naturally carries the eye to the belt buckle at his tapered waist.

Daddy taught him well enough how to cut a figure, and daddy was the reason why Jesse had any need to pretend nonchalance when calling home.

Home, he wants to scoff.

Not Graceland while this fiasco lasted.

Graceland was too storied and way too watched. Home was Palm Springs and warm weather and privacy to figure out what the hell the rest of them were gonna do with their lives and if mama and daddy could still make it. Together.

Home, where mama could cook this last little one that precious few in the outside world knew was coming, home where daddy could eat crow and stay sober.

Jesse’s teeth ache from the way he grinds them in his stress, he rubs at his cheek and wills the tenseness away, if he answered with clenched teeth mama would be able to tell. And mama would worry. And mama had done enough worrying to nearly cost her her life.

“Hello?” came through the receiver.

Jesse felt guilty for one brief second at his immense relief that she’d been the one to answer, not daddy, but then a flood of very legitimate grievances against one Elvis Presley came flooding in and he shrugged it off. “Hey mama.” he kept his voice down but he couldn’t help the smile that lifted his tone at just hearing her sound so soft and rested. “How’re you doin’?” he ventured, keeping an eye at the nurses and patients passing nearby, always aware of potential eavesdroppers.

“I’m good baby, I’m real good, how’re you holdin’ up?”

Jesse listens for any trace of a fib in her tone but for once she doesn’t sound strained when she says she’s good. He’ll take it that physically she must be finally good for the first time this whole pregnancy. “Thas good.” he whispers, cupping the receiver closer, “He takin’ care of you, mama? He’s being gentle a-and he’s -he bein’ respectful?”

Of her space and her nerves and her whole taken for granted self. He’s picked a cuticle till it’s bleeding on him, wincing he sticks it into his mouth, full lips curling around it, something his mama gave him in a face strikingly similar to his father’s. The scowl he sends at a lurking relation of some inmate in this druggie bedlam is entirely his father’s and he’s grateful for that one singular legacy. It’s come in real handy as folks come up to him and pepper him with questions on the football field like:

-is your dad strung out on coke or heroin these days? is it true what happened to your sister, man? did your daddy force himself or is your mama so pathetic she couldn’t say no to a man she was divorcin? got anythin’ I can trade off ya, Presley?-

Benign, regular family questions. Sorta questions most 20 year olds have gotta answer, for sure. He sucks harder and tastes copper round his finger.

“Oh yes. Really darling, I’m fine. We’re fine, in fact.” Mama’s talking again. That’s a bold statement. To refer to them as “we” and to say they’re fine. She’s not mean enough to lie to him now, not now it’s all crashed and crumbled and they’re trying to pick up the pieces together. His little cupcake world of happy families is sorta shot to hell by this point, anyways. Least Mama can do is be truthful about it, and learning from his daddy’s mistakes, Jesse chooses to believe her when she says she’s well.

That they’re good.

“Ok, good.” he breathes for what he realizes must be the first time in awhile, his fingers are numb and his lips feel tingly, he’s gotta stop doing that, he’s gonna pass out one day, he can feel it. “The baby?”

“Fine. We’re all fine, Butnin, I asked how you were.” she reminds him gently.

“I’m fine, mama.” he is, now that he’s back to breathing. Breathing is good for one’s health. He’s gonna keep it up. “Daisy is settling in alright, too.” he beats Mama to the question, glossing over some of the more queasy aspects of heroin rehabilitation. “T-the nurse here, uh, D-Donna, she uh, she said we oughta be over the worst of it. The uh, initial withdrawls and such.”

“Was it bad, Jesse?” poor mama, how’d it come to this that she has to ask it.

“Yeah, fairly.” he admits, recalling his baby sister’s foaming mouth and dilated eyes and seizing throat. Holding her as she scratched at herself like a maniac, forced her to tear at him instead. Donna, the nurse, has got him fixed up with plasters all up and down his forearms and hands. “But that part’s worn off.” he assumes mama knows what he means, if she hasn’t dealt with it directly with daddy she at least knows of it, even if his were all prescribed. “She’s just real sleepy now. Sleeps all day and most the night. I try to keep her talking and singing and playing stuff so, uh, so that she’s tired, ya know? So she’ll sleep heavy. She’ll get better quicker. That’s what Donna says, the more she sleeps the faster she’ll detox.”

“My sweet boy.” Mama murmurs and that’s compensation enough for how little sleep he’s gotten this past week and everything else.

“Happy to do it.” he mumbles, and he means it.

“I know,” she answers earnestly, “and we’re grateful.” they both let that lie and after a minute she speaks up again, a saucy undercurrent to her tone that throws him for a loop. It's been such ages since he heard it: “So, this Donna, you’ve mentioned her last time and before that, too. Is she an experienced nurse, dear?”

Jesse groans into his hand only to realize it’s amplifying the sound through the speaker. In his loneliness here he may have forgotten how obvious it is that he’s latched on like a limpet to the one genuine human who’ll give him something besides canned answers when his sister aspirates on her own spit in the bathroom floor.

“I-I-I lost one sister this way already.” he’d gasped to sweet little Donna and her baby cheeked self as they peeled Daisy off the floor and got her on a stretcher, “Jo, Jo died from this.”

Not a drug withdrawal, of course. Jo had drowned inside mama. But still.

-Aspirating.

It held a bizarre terror for him, that fancy word, his whole childhood and the whole nine months of waiting for Marie to come out healthy. He’d never forget asking his daddy one day at table how they could be sure this new baby wouldn’t drown, too. Daddy had gotten so angry before bursting into tears at the head of the table. Nobody had ever seen anything like it before or since. All that grief just stored up, and him scared as any of them for a repeat and no kid’s tactless inquiry and it all surface. “We don’t know.” Mama had said and daddy cut her off harshly, “No, Elaine!” he’d near yelled, “No, don’t even say it. This one’s gonna live, I'm demandin’ it.” Mama had bit her lip and replied softly, “Then we’d better start praying so.”

And that’s what they did every night for eight months, Daddy led them all in laying their hands on mama's growing belly and prayed and prayed until Marie came screaming into the world with clear lungs. And so Jesse got himself on the floor and beat at Daisy’s back while praying and Donna did it too, right with him.

“Uh, Donna’s pretty young but she’s capable.” he answers mama’s question.

“How old?” there’s nothing sly in her tone now, just genuine concern for the quality of her daughter’s care takers.

“She’s nineteen, mama,” Jesse admits with a wince, “she’s my age.”

“Ah.” and a long pause follows.

“There’s others too, but she’s the most eager, most -caring.”

“That’s good. Thank God he sent someone for y’all. I knew He would.”

“Yeah, she’s, she’s real sweet mama.” he assures.

“Oh is she?” there’s a smirk in her tone now.

“Nineteen and sweet.” that’s daddy’s voice coming through the phone from a distance and Jesse starts to stiffen. “Does this Donna happen to be pretty, too, son?”

Jesse is back to grinding his teeth and it sends a spark of pain up to his temple.

“Elvis!” His mama honest to god titters and it’s been such a while since Jesse heard that sound he suddenly feels like forgiving his daddy a few things just for that. Just for bringing that back. It makes his eyes sting.

Donna has hair the color of mamas but with a touch more red in it and it curls and fans in such a messy and unstudied way as to remind him of an artist, all while smashed beneath a nurse's cap. And her smile is sunshine incarnate and her eyes are as blue as his and her lips as plump as strawberries and she’s the first person he feels like he can trust in ages. Not that he’s trusted her with much besides showing he’s at the end of his rope with exhaustion and emotion. But she never missed a beat.

“I-I-I don’t mean to keep mentioning her it’s just-“ he bites his lip harshly before deciding to be frank, “it’s hard to trust anyone. Even here everyone is gossiping about us, they think I can’t hear ‘em but I do and it’s all the time and I ain’t going up to one of those tongue wags and asking them to help Daisy when she’s that vulnerable. I just can’t. So -so it’s Donna.” he explains.

It’s dead silent on the other end for a length of time that oughta be uncomfortable but instead it soothes something in Jesse’s soul to think that he got his point across enough to shut his smartass father up for a whole minute.

“I’m sorry this is so damn hard for you, son,” it comes in a deep rumble and bitter as he is, Jesse feels his hands sweat and his cheeks too, or else that sting has overflowed and he’s crying. In public. “I’m sorry you’re havin’ to pay for my sins.”

“I-I-I’m just glad you’re back.” he croaks and looks about the place frantically to make sure he’s unobserved.

It had been so good that day daddy walked through the threshold at Graceland looking twenty pounds lighter and stone cold sober, there to sort out his children, there to intervene for Daisy. The day mama’s body gave out on her and she puddled like so much water on Graceland’s foyer floor, as if her body trusted Elvis to take care of her family even if her mind wasn’t sure he’d forgiven her for the divorce. Daddy had been perfect that day, picked mama up like a baby and took her to the hospital, made press statements like a ordinary human sayin simply that he’d “jacked it all up and was here to make amends.”

Mama and him tucked off to California to grow that baby that made her faint and Jesse was charged with Daisy and bringing her here to Dallas. It had felt like old times, Sergeant Presley and all that famous stage presence ordering them all to battle stations.

It wasn’t till later that Jesse wondered how the hell the man had the gall to show up and demand respect. Turns out mama had kept that fire going bright enough all the kids just fell in line like nothing had ever been askew. Jesse wonders if now he can go back to being nineteen again. He’s a little scared to hope. That’s the worst of it, he’s not bitter, he’s scared.

Twenty year olds have futures with little nurses named Donna. For now Jesse is not a normal almost-twenty year old.

“I’m glad you’re back.” he repeats to his daddy, “Please…stay…back.”

It’s what he begs Daisy when she tries to bribe him to sneak her illegal shit next morning.

“Enough of that, you’re nearly sober and you’re gonna stay sober. Please stay good, f’me! Please.” he begs and weedles until her big blue eyes go from watery to scornful and she has fun at his pathetic expense but Jesse doesn’t mind. It gives her something to do, teasing him for being a blubbering softy over her. It distracts her. It assures Daisy she’s wanted, that somebody -more than one in fact- would be devastated if she didn’t win this fight.

She’s become a skeleton as the detox racks her. Hospital food tasting bad on a good appetite, it’s ever worse on a poor one and Jesse tears out clumps of his now shaggy black hair in desperation to have her stay nourished. He’s not supposed to be sleeping there overnight but Donna fibs for him. He’s not supposed to sneak shit into the clinic but Donna takes him back to her house, lets him use her stove to cook pancakes -Daisy’s favorite- and helps him smuggle them in under his leather jacket. All for the price of a motorcycle ride.

Jesse’s belly burned for nights after where her little hands had overlocked to hold onto him during the ride, burning him and cooking his guts hot and wanting even beneath the leather and the layers.

“Donna’s got the same spatulas you use, mama.” He’s reporting by the third week.

“The baby’s the size of an cantelope.” she reports back.

“What’ve y’all been doin?” he tries to make conversation and even to his own ears he sounds suspicious. When did he start to sound like Jack? How much more could daddy possibly screw this up? Knock his ex-wife up doubly? Like a cat? Jesse snorts and covers with a cough.

“Talkin’ mostly, floatin in the pool.” he can hear her shrug from here, “It’s terribly hot.”

“Mmm.” he sympathizes.

“We got a marriage license yesterday.” Daddy pipes up and Jesse lets out a stifled sob of relief. The gang is back together, it would seem.

“Cool.” he rasps before Donna passes and then approaches in concern for his blotchy face.

“You ok?” she asks gently.

“Yeah, yeah fine,” Jesse scrambles, “hay fever. Killer.”

“Who’s that, Butnin?” mama asks.

“Uh, umm nobo-“

“Is that Donna?” she guesses and he winces for the umpteenth time at this damn phone.

“Mamaaaa.” he begs.

“Can I talk to her? Please, please!” she begs in turn.

“Mama no!” Jesse pleads right back and Donna backs away with that keen sense of intruding while unable to suppress her fond smile at this cute, boyish side to such a burdened young man.

By week four Donna and him have taken to walking Daisy along the corridors, getting her strength back and making her move, her always lanky frame a featherweight between them now. They all share a laugh at how Daisy towers over Donna’s tiny self, has to hunch to use the petite nurse’s shoulder while Jesse’s height makes her strain to reach. They can use a laugh, the stares they get as Daisy’s famous face gets hauled past in pajamas and socks makes Jesse lose all appetite afterwards, his fingers going cold and his lips numb. He’d like to punch something but everything here is breakable, his sister and his family’s reputation, most of all.

It’s not fair to her and it’s more work for her but this loss of appetite worries Donna and by the end of their long day’s shift they’re together again as she force feeds Jesse tacos from a nearby stand, as they walk around the old part of the city and inadvertently become friends. He may have sucked some mango salsa from her fingers, but neither of them mention it. Too busy watching the others' faces as the sun dies out and eventually he drives her home, her body tucked behind his on his bike, wind whipping her hair that’s escaped his offered helmet.

By the fifth night of this routine he steals a kiss. It’s not hard fought, she leans into him eagerly and for the first time in his life there’s nothing about conquest in the act for him, it’s just…nice. So nice he tries it the next night while they’re sat on his bike, parked by a dance hall. It’s less nice and more like licking fire this time, suddenly his sweet intentions for her are a burning mass of need and that night Jesse goes back to his dinky motel alone and engages in wasteful practices in the shower. Donna had asked where he was staying and when he told her she’d been aghast.

“I just prefer something more -normal.” he’d said.

“Sure but -but that place is dangerous, Jesse.” she’d been so concerned for him and he gobbled it up like a starved man. “Normal folks don’t stay there even.”

“Maybe I’m not normal.” he’d quipped and Donna thought about his mother and her mafia connections, the ones with the dirt that sank Colonel Parker during the divorce, she thought of the bike clubs that Jesse is seen frequenting in the magazines, she thinks about how far the Presley’s might go to reconnect with normal folks -she holds her tongue. “Don’t worry ‘bout me, lil, I can handle myself.” he’d assured her as he thumbed out her frown.

“I know.” Donna had replied, “I mean, I’ve read about how you handle yourself.” and she’d run an admiring hand down his bicep before kissing him again.

That was another thing he liked about Donna, she didn’t play stupid about his family and she also didn’t pry. She’d read about him and Jack bustin’ those guys asses for what they did to Rosalee and she mentioned it. And left it at that. Jesse liked that maybe most of all. He also liked how everything he’d trusted her with never got related by anyone else. No nursing staff gossip or a sweet insider tip for a newspaper. Donna took his trust and tucked it tight inside her chest, right in that tender heart of her’s. He liked that about her, right next to her sweet smile and her warm nature and the feel of her breasts smashed to his back on a long ride.

“You’re in love.” Daisy goaded him the next day as she scribbled in the journal he had gotten her. They encouraged writing here and Daisy’s material had gradually shifted from juvenile doodles and giant block letters proclaiming “JESSE IS AN ASSHOLE” to something that looked alarmingly like stanzas as he snooped over the top of the pages.

Jesse colored brightly at her goad and adamantly refuted it. “That’s the drugs talkin’.” he joked.

“So you’re just passin’ time with her.”

“I-I-I dunno, Daisy.” he spluttered, “It’s not exactly hoppin’ here when you’re out cold. Can only call mama so many times a day. Gotta talk to someone.”

“Does mama hate me?” she asked suddenly and he stopped cold in the middle of tuning her guitar to stare at her dumbly. “I mean -I deserve it I just…”

“No she don’t hate you!” he found his voice, “Don’t be an idiot. That self pityin’ mope don’t help the beauty of those dark circles none. She’s just wore out.”

“I wore her out.”

“Mm well, we all had a hand.” Jesse fudges.

“Ella told me to just get on with dyin.” she reveals, and Jesse puts his pick down for good this time, taking a deep breath and trying to listen coolly. “When mama was taken to the hospital and layin’ there unresponsive, Ella said I’d brought her to that, said if I was so intent on killin’ myself that I should get on with it and spare mama the suspense.”

“Well,” Jesse tries for a moderate tone, “that was a shitty thing to say.” he concedes, “And you -don’t pay Ella no attention. She’s worried and scared to death half times that Johnny won’t come back from ‘Nam. And now she’s takin’ care of Marie on top of her own baby. She’s just a little vinegary, thas all, pregnancy hormones. Took it out on you.”

“I think she’s scared the guy she married in such a rush is gonna come back.” Daisy growled. She crossed out a line angrily and Jesse was really starting to worry about those scribbles.

Jesse let her finish before he asked, “Why’s that?” It’s not like he got much thinking done lately between the court hearings and getting his head knocked about on the turf.

“She don’t love him.” Daisy rolled her eyes heavenward in an action that mama would have looked on with annoyance. Jesse glared at Daisy in her stead.

“People love in different ways, Daisy.” he sighed even as he had no bullets to fight her argument, Ella had left in uncharacteristically rash fashion, seemingly unable to take the atmosphere at home anymore. “And she says John’s a good man.”

“All that means is he don’t beat her.” Daisy snarked.

“Well, that’s a step towards romance.” Jesse joked back and they let the subject lie.

Each day Daisy gets stronger and writes more and more in that little book. Not that Jesse sees her at it most times, it’s just the pen she wedges in to keep her place gets closer and closer to the middle, and then towards the back. Snooping isn’t an option but he imagines they’ve got a lotta heartbreak on those pages, maybe bled out like lyrics.

Now days he makes the walk with her without Nurse Donna, and it’s both sad and a victory in one. Now that she’s strong enough to notice the stares Daisy takes delight in feebly flipping off her voyeurs and that’s a fight Jesse doesn't have it in him to win. If it makes her grin, he allows it, that stupid, crooked little boy grin that his daddy plopped right onto a young girl’s face. She’s perfect, she’s perfect and getting healthy and the stares don’t matter much. Not till he hears a voice he’s become very attuned to, snap at some idling nurses:

“Haven’t you got any work to do?”

And his head spins like a top on his neck and sure enough, that was Donna, temper snapping for what might be the first time in her sweet life, and Jesse feels his tingly gratitude down to his very toes.

“She’s alright, that one.” Daisy smirks beside him and little does he know her enthusiasm stems partly from last night when Daisy gave a little sisterly admonition to Miss Donna that her brother liked her and if she didn’t treat his soft heart gentle like, then Daisy was gonna unstring her guitar and end her with a metal cord.

“How ya doin, mama?” he asks her on a Tuesday and even to himself his voice sounds better. He may be far more tired than he was when he first came in here but his relief at Daisy’s progress colors his tone in hope.

“Doing good Butnin, real good.” she sounds good alright, more than good and Jesse uncurls his fist and let’s himself relax a little as he gives his daily report on Daisy. And Donna.

“Rosalee told me she’s gonna pop in and see y’all.” Mama informs him.

“Good time for it,” Jesse hums, “Mae Mae’s better enough to chat but she could use the encouragement.”

“I bet.” Mama sounds sad again. That won’t do.

Jesse lip curls up in mischief as he asks next, “Jack been by to see ya?” he inquires about that little sea creature hybrid he’s been missing and must call brother, “Brought any dolphins home to meet ya yet?”

“Oh Jesse! Stop!” she laughs a sweet peal of laughter and Jesse smugly twirls the phone cord round and round at his success, “He’s coming to dinner tonight, he has been too caught up before, he’s been out on the ocean for six weeks! I’m scared to see the state of his skin!”

“Welllll,” Jesse drawls, “No way the sun could burn that dimple off so, he’ll be fine.”

“He actually saved someone’s life, uh, day before yesterday.” Daddy’s voice rumbles through the receiver and Jesse’s eyes roll backwards a little at the way he’s never caught his parents separate on this trip, not even once. He can picture the patio phone and its loungers and its umbrellas right now, and imagines that daddy is probably cradling mama’s belly like he can push that magic healing through the skin and make that baby the healthiest infant California’s ever seen.

“Did he now?” Jesse admires, “Makin’ us proud, ain’t he?”

“Yeah, hauled someone who’d been adrift for ages, right up into his boat.” Daddy elaborates without a hint of mockery in his proud tone and Jesse smiles to himself.

“Bout time he put those muscles to use, s’not like he uses them when carrying snails around.” he teases back because having a serious and admiring conversations about Jackson might be a step too far in the healing process. Not this early, mama resting and then getting remarried and cooking a baby is plenty for the plate. Conceding that Jack isn’t a walking disaster is a little too much too soon. Heroics aside.

By week six at the Center they’re into behavioral shit and Jesse can freely admit this isn't the Presley family’s strong suit, but he’s gotta hand it to his sister that she is less preoccupied during it than he is. Out of respect for Rosalee’s interest in the same profession, Daisy pays a decent amount of attention to the therapist’s counsel. Jesse would be more attentive if the first fifty pages of Red West’s freshly published tell-all of his family’s secrets wasn’t banging around in his head. Somehow, somehow it’s not even the dirt that gets to him, makes him stagger out into the hall after a while and crumple against a cart and let the world go dim.

It’s the sweet stuff, the gentle stuff, the stuff that was only ever supposed to be theirs as a family and that fuckers like Red West were goddamn privlidged to be witnesses to, spilled out for all the world to pick apart and psycho-analyze. He hasn’t told Daisy and now she’s asleep and as he’s on the floor in the deserted hall he finds there’s really nothing stopping him from doing what he wants. So he panics and lets himself work up to a dim eyed fury and only the cool shock of a wet rag against his neck brings him back from it.

“Just breathe for me, honey.” That little Texan ascent is saying as he gulps into a brown bag with the embarrassed realization he’s had a panic attack. Sure Daddy had them at his age, too, but that was to go perform in front of hundreds of folks. This is just from reading Red Fuckin’ West’s bad prose. He can hear himself laughing, hiccuping little laughs of derision at himself and it, and Donna cooing all the while.

“You can’t drive your bike like that.” she points to his still shaky hands half an hour later.

It’s comforting watching Donna shut the place down, not that it’s totally abandoned at night, not at all, but just watching her finish up her duties and stash away her papers and arrange her workspace feels as if the heart of the place, the vitality if it, is turning in for the night. And he’s going with it.

He follows Donna like a lost puppy and she doesn’t mind it, he’s sweet and soft spoken and no matter what she does she only gets weak chuckles from him.

His boisterous charm and tired joviality is threadbare and she feels like it’s the right thing to do to slip her hand into the crook of Jesse’s elbow, to gently tow him out of the Center’s fluorescent lit maze and out into the night. He giggles at her guiding him into the passenger side, a soft little noise of trusting gentleness that is bizarrely attractive in such a capable man. He folds his long limbs into her dinky car and waits patiently for her to get into her side.

“What?!” Donna asks him as Jesse keeps gazing at her with big blue eyes and droopy pink lips as she turns the key and fidgets with the windows to get some air flow, “Am I gonna have to buckle you in?” she teases at the way he’s just melted into the seat, head leaned against the headrest and long limbs folded where they first flopped.

“Mmmmmaybeee.” Jesse drags it out and giggles again -and she knows it is common to be a little drunk, a little silly, a little loopy after a panic attack as severe as the one she found him having, but she’s never heard of it or seen it be so cute. Against her better judgment to coddle a grown man, Donna leans over the small console between them and reaches across Jesse for the seatbelt, getting the strongest whiff of his natural musk and spicy cologne she’s ever gotten, it makes the musty cab of the car feel ten times hotter than it was moments ago and she fumbles in her haste to hurry up and distance herself.

It’s silly, Donna thinks, she’s being silly to find this procedure of bucking him in a intimate thing when they’ve done far more, when they’ve kissed heatedly on his bike and danced wildly to that new Elton John record in her off time. They’ve been more forward than this but somehow his pliant and drowsy magnetism has her heart thudding and her body responding in ways not even his glorious kissing could produce. But the way his breath puffs from his lips and the way he looks at her as if she’s everything he wants in this moment makes it hard to brush this interaction off as a nurse with her patient. Or a friend helping a friend. Donna brought Jesse in because he was physically unfit to drive, she is being kind because he’s obviously had an awful day, he’s loose and pliant because of exhaustion -these are familiar things to Donna, they are integral to her vocation and her expertise.

And yet there’s those eyes of his, soft and burning all at once, catching her skin on fire and soothing it right after.

It does nothing to make her breathing calm as she drags the buckle across his soft yet lean belly, down the taper of his waist, so willowy and elegant that it makes her want to cry in envy, sliding it to latch at his hip.

“Donna.” he rasps before she can pull away, his hand shakily coming up to touch her cheek and she stalls, feeling as scared as a kid for what he’ll say next, “You take the sunshine with ya, everywhere you go. M’sorry for those poor suckers we’ve left.” he jerks his head towards the blazing ball of light that is the Center amidst the dark parking lot and Donna blinks at the compliment, absorbing it slowly as his fingers on her cheek do their best to wipe her mind blank.

“Daisy is gonna be fine.” Donna assures, scrambling to order her reassurances for maximum comfort, “She’s getting stronger and she’ll be asleep the whole time we’re gone. A-and we gotta take care of you, ok? Can’t have you going down too, can we?”

“Okay.” he whispers and she realizes her hand is still pressed to his belly. “I-I’ve had a bad day.” he admits, and it’s the first self focused thing she’s ever heard out of this forever uncomplaining boy.

“Let’s uh, let’s get you home -rested. Let’s get you rested.” she propels herself back over to her side of the car and jerks the gear more forcefully than needed before driving them out. She’s not sure they actually talked about it or that it was agreed to verbally but they somehow both know they’re headed to her rented house, the place with the ratty sofa and the duck taped windows and the malfunctioning stove that Jesse cajoled into working long enough to make Daisy batch after batch of fluffy pancakes. She had nearly sprung on him back then, taken him down to the floor and ravished him for being such a nice human being.

The bar might be low for men, but since that day, Donna had learned that Jesse Presley was more than lean legs, a nice ass, a gorgeous face and an earnest desire to please. Jesse Presley was a good man. And so Donna felt no qualms about taking him to her house, plopping him down on the sofa after fetching sheets, and letting his grabby hands tug her down atop him for a goodnight kiss. A kiss that lasted, and lasted, and lasted. Lasted until he was kissing between her breasts, the neck of her tshirt tugged down in a way that would deform its shape forever as she was idiotically scrambling to undo his clunky belt, eager to see the expanse of perfect, golden skin that his face and neck promised.

Donna had never gone this far with a man before but some inner voice told her it was a once in a lifetime chance, not to sleep with a Presley, but to ease a boy who needs so much comfort right now he literally can’t breathe. Jesse’s kisses don’t stop and she doesn’t try to make them, he’s inexorable while being slow, and it’s a combination she’d never witnessed before. Perhaps if he’d rushed her, or made an outright pass, she’d have had time to consider, to deny. But he just kissed her and kissed her as his hands mapped and worshiped her, caressing her all the way from his allotted couch to her bed until she was beneath him, accepting him inside her body like she had let him in her heart.

Idly Donna wondered how many girls his father took and left with the same good intentions, winders if the generations will just keep at it, on and on. It doesn’t feel trite though, she’s not sure if it’s because it’s her first time or because of how intensely tender he is, or the way he cries partway through the act.

“Hay fever, sorry.” Jesse insists weakly.

“Killer this time of year.” Donna agrees, stroking down the sweaty muscles of his rippling back, “For me it’s the cedar.”

She feels trusted with his tears, cherished by his revenant kisses, and never once does he give her cause to regret it, to panic. It’s slow and needy, strong but kind, the whole way through -just like him. Donna’s eyes sting at the realization he’s giving her such a sweet first time, even if he doesn’t know it. She finds herself sniffling with him over the thought that it might be the only time.

“Thank you, thank you.” he gushes, sweet as anything in a thin whisper, after he scrambles out of her and she adds her hand to his to finish him off. He had dexterously snagged a pillow case off one of her pillows and after it had served its purpose, he dropped the sodden thing to the ground.

There’s nothing trite about the way they lay in sweet silence afterwards, the way he doesn’t even try to collect his autonomy but instead winds those long limbs around her and keeps his face on her sweaty chest. “You’re a rare one Donna.” he praises, sleepy and gentle over her heart.

Donna struggled against sleep for the next hour, desperate to engrave the feeling of him laying melted on her in peaceful slumber and the pounding ache between her legs that had finally known a man. Something like virginity that she simply hadn’t gotten around to tossing away, was suddenly something very dear and painfully sentimental to her now it was gone. Now it was now wrapped up in soft kisses, large hands entwining hers to the sheets and raspy endearments. She fell asleep propped against the pillow with his head on her belly, repeating to herself at the rhythm of her pulse down there -it’s just a fling, it’s just a fling, don’t expect more, you hopeful idiot.

Cold sheets, or the sound of the door shutting from his exit or the scratchy presence of a note the next morning were conspicuously absent when Donna woke up.

Instead she heard the sound of gentle babbling, like the way a person might talk to a pet and combined with the gentle wriggling she sensed beneath the sheets, Donna engaged briefly in a time warp and wondered when she got a puppy and who was talking to it. But there was no puppy here, instead, as cognisense fully set in she frantically sat up and beat at the wriggly sheets, Donna found Jesse, still long and lean and naked as she hazily recalled from the dimness last night, wedged between her legs and chatting with her muff, placing chaste kisses to it that barely parted her outer lips.

“No way.” she said her foggy morning thoughts aloud at the sight of this beautiful boy still with her in the daylight and more pressingly -face to face with her used and unwashed and unshaven privates. “Oh what are you going to do?” she wailed as that mortifying relaxation sunk in. “Why’re you down there, you nut?“

“Good Mornin’ to you too, miss.” Jesse laughed and his breath tickled her core that was feeling strangely achy and happy all at once. “I’m gonna lick your wounds, silly.” he slapped her thigh gently as he went on as if to reprimand her while tugging up a mildly bloody sheet corner as evidence for his displeasure, “Donna, ya shoulda said, dear.”

“Oh it’s not a big deal.” she insisted in a bit of a panic to get him away from her vagina and in an attempt to convince herself it didn’t mean much. “You were so good. Don’t worry about it.”

“But you shoulda told me.” he insisted gently.

“There wasn’t much time for talking.” she cringed as soon as she said it but he took that in stride after realizing she was not insinuating any wrongdoing on his part.

“Are you hurtin’ much?” he asked gently and he was still down there, broad and smooth shoulders wedged between her stubbled thighs, tapering down to his tiny waist and that peachy butt and then those legs that were hanging off the edge of her bed like so much lumber. “Donna?” he asked with laughter in his voice as her eyes glazed over in review of him.

“No, not much, you were very nice. It felt great.” she insisted truthfully and ended with a little hiss as he ran his knuckles along her petals. “I mean, I-I’m honestly not sure I’m up for more activities right this minute but it’s not bad. It’s not hurting. Please don’t worry about it.”

“Did you even…peak?” he asked and his face flushed red like he was most ashamed of not being sure of that.

“No I-I was mostly just soaking up the whole…experience.” she admitted because it was true and didn’t strike her as deplorable at all. He had been big and she was new and it wasn’t quite comfortable enough to get there. Which hadn’t diminished the experience or changed the point of their tryst anyway. “That wasn’t the point of it all anyway.” she said softly while reaching to push his hair out of his eyes. It had grown inches since she first met him. “Not for me.”

Jesse’s face softened quickly at that. Like she had struck a nerve and soothed him all at once. “Yeah,” he nodded, “it wasn’t for me either.” and it feels like a far larger confession that it is for both of them, “Which is rich comin’ from the man who got to come.” he laughed at himself right after and she did too. “Now spread these legs so hims can do a lil community service on hers poor widdle clam shell.”

Donna never would have thought such babyish, almost infantilizing gibberish could be so authoritative but the potency of its endearing qualities, with his skilled tongue and earnest desire to please, ensured her cooperation so that they didn’t leave the bed for hours yet. Donna soon forgot her unshaved legs, her need for a glass of water and the fact she’d forgotten to set an alarm -and then when she recalled that detail in a lull of his caresses, she recalled that it was Saturday and she was off. And then he wiped her mind blank again.

It wasn’t till halfway through the radio blasting Dancing Queen and Jesse discoing in jeans and nothing else while flipping an omelet that it seemed to occur to him there was a life outside Donna’s little place and Donna’s fluffy hair and Donna’s ratty rented flat, and Donna’s sunshiny smile. She watched as reality intruded on his creaseless features, an instant pucker and burdened eyes clouding that ethereally sweet face as the outside crashed in.

A world outside Donna. It felt as good to see how well she’d helped him to escape as it was painful to watch it all come back down on him, weighing like a mantle on those strong shoulders.

“Shi-eeet!” he slid to a screeching stop of his jiving in his sock feet across her linoleum floor. “I was gonna call mama, see how they’re takin’ the book release stuff.”

Donna had vaguely heard gossip about what she supposed was the book in question. A dirty little tattle tale by a fired employee is all it sounded like to her. “It’s bad then?” she asked.

“Shitty enough grammar to make me puke.” he joked bashfully and she supposed that it was his way of asking to drop it. “What’re you doin’ with your weekend? Like today? What else ya doin?”

“Not much.” she admitted, crossing her arms over the baggy shirt she’d donned to watch him cook her breakfast. “Um, I suppose I should get more groceries-“

“-I’ll make ya a list and we can go.”

“-and, oh. Ok. Yeah. And umm, well, I need to check on my dad. I usually spend my Saturday dinners with him.”

“Oh.” Jesse bit his lip, “I-I can go…you wouldn’t mind me taggin’ along for the groceries bit?” he asked.

“Of course not!” she tried to laugh off her butterflies, “Are you worried I’ll buy the wrong flour?”

“No, I’m worried you’ll buy margarine instead of good wholesome butter.” he growled gravely as he looped his arms around her waist and tugged her to him, laying his chin on the top of her head like she was dear to him and the butterflies went rogue in her belly against all her attempts to stay untangled. “I just wanna be with ya.” he admitted and she shuddered, winding her arms around his willowy waist and clinging on.

“I’d like that.” she admitted.

“Lemme just call my Mama real quick?” he asked.

Donna cringed before admitting, “I don’t have a working landline.”

“What?” Jesse pulled away just enough to look her in the eye, his own wide in protest, “Good lord darlin’, that won’t do. Livin’ alone and no phone for me to hear if you’re alright. Well, lemme grab my shirt and- help yourself to the omelet, baby. And remind me to get ya a damn phone!” he was already disappearing down her hall and she stared at the egg and ham concoction before her, wishing the terrible anxiety she felt over much she liked him would calm so she could taste it.

They ended up swinging by the Center first as Jesse acted like he’d committed a murder when noon rolled around and he hadn’t checked on Daisy yet. Donna felt for him and recalled the feel of his tongue too clearly to a fuss as she flicked her blinker to turn left, away from groceries and phones, and back towards her workplace. Some little part of her hoped he’d forget his promise to buy her one, it was extravagant and a little embarrassing.

The thumping beat of Springsteen’s Thunder Road filled her car with verve that matched the muggy exhaust tainted breeze that whipped through the windows and the noonday sun that glinted off Jesse’s rings as his hand wind surfed out the window.

“I got to play bass on this one.” Jesse murmured like someone might mention they had a hand in scoring a strike in their local bowling championships.

“What?! On this? You’ve worked with Springsteen?” she cried in shocked admiration.

“S’all my mama’s doin’.” he insisted as if regretting he’d made a deal of it. “A-and daddy. He taught me bass.” it’s the first personal thing about his daddy he’s divulged and Donna tucks it away for safe keeping.

“Aren’t you marvelous.” Donna swears.

“Hardly,” he blushes, “S’just when your name is Presley and your mom’s got her hand on the levers -artist’s tend to let ya mess about.”

“I somehow doubt they’d let a complete dud jam on their album.” she snarks and he bites his lip and doesn't retort.

The harmonica warbles on and Jesse’s hand raps out a rhythm on the car door. “-show a little faith there’s magic in the night! You ain’t beauty but hey you're alright, and that’s alright wi’me.” he sings to her, far more melodious than Springsteen’s grit and his eyes sparkle far more than stereo light ever could.

Once parked he worries his lip between his fingers as he stares at a faintly familiar car parked by his bike. It’s probably telling enough that Jesse left the thing here and went home with someone else. Or maybe folks will assume he wandered the streets and dive bars all night. At least that would spare Donna’s reputation while at it. “How ‘bout I go in first a-and if you want you come in later or -if ya don’t mind, you could wait out here? I’ll be back! Soon, I-I won’t dawdle, I swear!” he assures.

“Jesse, take all the time you need.” she smiles at him, leveraging her chair to lay back as sunbeams bathe her in a lemony glow, “I’ll be out here working on my tan.”

His smile is so full of relief that Donna realizes he was worried she’d be offended by his distancing himself and if he weren’t so relieved then maybe she’d be tempted to be offended. But she can’t bring herself to be. It’s all a mess in her head but she figures she can not make it worse by being accepting of the fact he doesn’t want to be seen with her. It’s ok, his smile makes that ok, as does the way those long fingers unclasp his seatbelt and the way those long limbs lean over her in a mirroring of last night and she feels those plush pink lips smooch her forehead, long and devoutly.

“Sit tight, baby.” he commands with his lips barely leaving her skin and then he’s out the door and strutting across the parking lot without a seeming trace of nervousness.

Rounding the hall down towards Daisy’s room he passes by the familiar wall phone and stops in his tracks at the sight of Rosalee propping Daisy up while having the receiver wedged between their cheeks. For a flash in his mind they don’t look a day over six with their scrunched faces and contrasting hair, always so compatible while entirely opposites.

Rosalee spots him first as Daisy is busy yacking at whoever they’ve held captive on the line and her blue eyes light with sweet recognition as she teases, “Well hey loverboy, good morning. Or is it afternoon?”

That makes Daisy look up and she answers someone on the line by proclaiming, “Yeah, he juusssst nowww walked in.”

“Who is that?” Jesse mouths, his forehead a washboard of wrinkled anxiety that Rosalee can’t bear anymore so she cracks and admits,

“It’s Mama, silly.”

Jesse relaxes a little on that account, moreso for the fact Daisy has obviously gotten past her presumption of being hated by their mother, if the giggles and gumption in her talk are any clue.

“Well yeah, I think he can talk,” Daisy is saying, “I mean I dunno, I’ll ask him. He looks like he’s missing a few ounces of fluids. You still got your tongue Jess?”

“Hush up!” He begs, pink in the face at the thought of mama thinking he’s been sleeping around when he was entrusted by Daddy to take care of his sister.

Daisy sticks her tongue out at him and Jesse finds that more reassuring that she’s stone cold sober than any other behavior he’s seen from her in rehab. Checking to make sure their squabble is unwitnessed, Jesse turns back and sticks out his own.

“Eww put that away, where’s it even been this morning?” she groans and his closes his mouth so fast his sisters become convinced of what had just been a suspicion.

“Oooh…” Rosalee coos.

“Nope nope nope.” He silences them with a meaningful hand chopping motion to the throat, “I kinda had an episode last night, and uh, Miss Donna was kind enough to lemme ride with her since my hands were shakin’. That’s it.”

“Oh Jesse!” Mama’s concern is loud enough over the phone to blast Daisy’s eardrums and reach his own, “Are you ok? You gotta make sure you eat and sleep. Did you sleep? She taking care of you? Baby? Are you -is he there, y’all?”

Rosalee scootches aside and pats the tiny sliver of white wall between the twins in invitation and resignedly he wiggles between them as Daisy laughs and tugs on the cord to help it reach him. Tucked together like this it feels doubly absurd to Jesse to be so fretted over and also, entirely soothing. He flings a lanky arm around each girl’s shoulder and squats a little to help Daisy reach his ear as she holds the receiver for him.

“Mama I’m fine.” he insists mid giggle as Rosalee’s finger finds a way to his armpit.

“Yeah, so fine you can’t drive!” Mama retorts and it relieves him that she obviously thinks the best of him, that he was in bad enough shape to go to a random girl’s house and not that he’s behaving like an absolute horndog in a new city. Just to make her not worry, he half wishes she’d think worse of him and just be displeased.

“Alright so, maybe I snooped through Red’s book yesterday.” Jesse admits since he intended to see how daddy and she were taking it, after all. “And it’s such shitty storytelling I got a little worked up. You know how I am when folks lyrics are dry a-“

“-Red wrote a book?” Rosalee interrupts as does Daisy with a-

“-am I in it?”

Jesse purses his lips and nods, twirling the phone cord and waiting quietly for Mama to say something.

When she does it’s a droll, “Red made takin’ LSD sound boring.” And between Donna’s sweet lovin’ and mama’s superhuman ability to shrug off the most defaming shit on the planet, Jesse is left smiling and burdened with only one small anxiety.

“How’s daddy takin’ it?” he asks as his ear gets pinched from Daisy mashing her face to his, eager to overhear. Rosalee is just face watching and Jesse knows she’ll get more information from that than if she listened.

“Oh, a bit hard.” she admits, “It's just so -so- tacky. To do that to a friend!” now she sounds mad, “When did we ever hurt that narcissistic fool? If our lifestyle was so unbearable he coulda quit, he had two decades to do it.”

“Yup.” Jesse pops the word for emphasis and notices someone down the hall has a disposable camera pointed at their little huddle. He supposes they do look a little bizarre, stacked in the alcove like overly matured sardines.

“Anyone giving you trouble about it?” Mama adds in concern.

“No. You know it jus’ came out yesterday and I-I-I haven’t been out and about much today.” Jesse admits and Daisy makes suggestive hand motions at waist level that he pointedly ignores.

“He predicts that when we’re in our fifties we’ll get back together.” she murmurs.

“Spoilers!” he hisses and mama laughs as does someone in the background that could only be daddy. “A real, genuine prophet, that Red.” Jesse wheezes. “And daddy,” he hollers loudly in hopes he’ll hear, “he were wrong about me hating the damn rollercoaster. I shit my pants everytime outta joy, I swear. Don’t let nobody make ya doubt that.”

For a minute all he can hear are mama’s suppressed belly laughs before Daddy’s rings clatter on the other end and the kids can almost hear the scratch of a sideburn against the mouthpiece, “Y’all can hear me?” he rumbles through and Jesse’s face gets smashed from both sides as the girls crowd in.

“Yeah we can hear ya daddy.”

“Alright then listen to me, lil munchkins,” his voice sounds as deep and smooth as chocolate, even over a trashy phone speaker, and they all hypnotically sway in anticipation of his next word, “y’all know how much I love each of ya, that I’d happily burn down my trophy room ‘fore I let anythin’ happen to the window boxes with yer various uh, weeds and rocks and such in ‘em that Red was always mockin’ and uh, I wanna apologize to ya, from the bottom of my heart, that I hindered y’all in your quest to strap the Wests to Roman Candles that one christmas. Ya had the right idea.”

Jesse’s day gets magically better after that phone call, like one sentence from Daddy can patch up his whole life. But deep down he knows, it’s a thread of Donna running through the whole thing, buoying him up, smoothing out the creases, patching up the little cuts. It makes daddy’s voice sound richer and his promises truer and Jesse holds the receiver and smiles as Rosalee makes plans to drive back for classes and visit them while she’s at it and Daisy suggests baby names.

Things are as they should be and somehow that means he ends up walking out into the parking lot with his two sisters, one of whom was technically not released and piling into Donna’s beat up Oldsmobile and taking off for the grocery store as if that were a sane thing to do. Rosalee tries her best to meet the young woman driving them and Donna is anything but cagey, yet with Daisy’s blathering about her and Jesse’s blushing over her and Donna’s slightly overwhelmed joy at it all -they make for a chaotic entourage picking out butter and pickles and hamburger buns.

Next stop, Donna watches as Jesse and Daisy spend a solid twenty minutes weighing the value of different landlines when all Donna needs it for is to answer if she’s been murdered or not and during this analysis she learns from Rosalee that the auburn haired girl with the bashful grin is going to school at Stanford. Nearly gave her father a heart stack, she laughs when she tells it, but she wanted to study psychology and be nearer him -the subtext that Elvis was more often in Vegas than at his own home goes unsaid and Donna doesn’t bat an eye.

For what the papers have to say about this family, there’s never once been due credit given for their love and comradery. It couldn’t have been easy and maybe it was far from good at times, but the Presley’s didn’t create this much love from a vacuum. Some aching part of Donna wants to meet them all and watch them in their natural habitat, swear to them that she gets it, that she’s so starved for it herself she’d trade anything for such affectionate dysfunction.

The phone Jesse buys her has no superior merits in static or connection but it does have a zebra print handle on it that Daisy insisted was the height of chic, and he insisted in turn that Donna deserved sexy things. Looking down at her overalls and plaid shirt, Donna has to agree she’s not exactly in Jesse Presley’s league.

Before she can think on that for too long and get herself into knots about it, they’ve piled back into the car and Daisy is eagerly asking if they can get dinner -if she can eat outside of her fluorescent lit, sterile white prison. Donna feels for her and she can see Jesse trying to formulate an excuse, how now is time to let Donna be as she’s gotta go visit her dad. If she weren’t so convinced these dear kids actually liked hanging with her she’d never have the guts to suggest it but they’re too honest and forthright in their affection for her to doubt it so she hears herself suggesting:

“Y’all could come meet my dad? H-he loves your dad’s music. Learned drums awhile back just to match Fontana. I know he’d love y’all to bits.” Rosalee and Daisy raise a chorus of agreement in the backseat but Jesse hesitates and Dona refuses to be hurt by it. He’s obviously the more cautious of them, and he’s got reason to be. Donna thinks she saw someone taking photographs of them all as they came out of the market.

There’s also the unspoken worry about putting Daisy out in public so soon with surroundings teaming with alcohol and other temptations. It makes Donna clarify, haltingly, “It would be somewhere quiet, wholesome. My dad he’s um, he’s a recovering alcoholic, see? That’s how I got into nursing, mama left to go get more from life and I stayed to take care of him. He’s been clean for a good bit now but -he could use the friendship.”

Daisy looks like she’s about to take offense at being considered only fit for friendships with washed up drunks and Donna gets it, that it’s touchy but it needed to be said if they’re going to meet him. Rosalee intervenes instead with a soft,

“Sounds good to me, we’d love to meet him. For my schedule it works, doesn't it Jesse?” she asks, “I mean, as long as it’s somewhere quiet? Maybe out of the city proper?”

“Yeah,” Donna agrees, already having a joint in mind, “we’ll get out of the city. Maybe out by Plano? They’ve got good barbecue at this one place.”

“Jess?” Rosalee asks again, softer this time.

Jesse just turns around in his seat, long arm bracing himself and his bulging forearm stretched across the console and Donna’s mouth waters at the popping veins and nimble fingers as she watches him stare a mute Daisy down. “Can I take you for barbecue with Miss Donna and her daddy and trust you to behave yourself?”

“Oh for fu-“

“Daisy?” Jesse cuts her off, dead serious and so easily authoritative that Donna’s legs rub closed despite the inappropriate context. He’s not all sweet boy and needy young heir and it gives her shivers. “I mean I don’t want even a raised middle finger outta ya, you hear me? Just imagine whatever you do is gonna be plastered everywhere, think about that and we’ll go. We got a deal?”

Daisy seems to weigh her anger at her brother’s bossiness with the dire need for something besides hospital food and after twenty tense seconds of belligerence she gives in with a hoarse, “Deal. Gosh it’s not such a big thing, relax.”

That night Donna’s love for them gets cemented. They’re only licking their fingers of sticky sauce and ordering five different smoked briskets to try but the kids make conversation like they’ve learned a bit of everything from everywhere. Which in retrospect, Donna assumes that maybe they have, exposed as they were to the best and the worst, but she didn’t expect it to be so natural and kind, so outwardly focused where Jesse pulled anecdotes about the Korean War from her dad she’d never heard and a mention or two of Ma from happier times after one of Rosalee’s queries.

Everyone just talks, talks about the stuff they want to talk about but usually don’t. It’s cathartic and Donna hasn’t seen her daddy so recharged in ages. Jesse ends the night digging in his deep pockets for something that ends up being a guitar pick.

“I-it’s my d-daddy’s, sir,” he stammers as he puts it in Donna’s father’s weather palm, “wish he were here to swap stories but I-I-I thought maybe you’d like it. Till you can m-meet him.”

Her daddy takes it gratefully and thumbs over it with a fondness Jesse has seen a lot of folks show for the man he knows too well and they love more than seems possible for strangers. It never fails to humble him and reignite some apprecIation of his own for Elvis’ warmth that’s made it all the way into the heart of a middle aged vet from Waxahachie Texas.

“I’d sure like to meet the man someday.” Her daddy admits. “And thank ya for dinner, young Presley.”

“I hope you will meet him, I think ya will.” Jesse stammers and can’t bear to meet Donna’s surprised gaze, “We owe your Donna a heap, sir. Mama is about ready to come down here and eat her up she’s so grateful. And I uh, I intend to not lose touch.” he mutters the last bit and it makes Donna feel close to faint with hope that her father misheard as they go on to talk about how the press has treated Elaine Presley and eventually say their good nights. Jesse won’t meet her eye, just tucks her into his armpit like her short height mandates for a hug and says goodnight. After the heat of last night she thinks she’ll waste away from such propriety.

As she gets in the car to drive her dad home, working the shift, a bright light slices across their windshield and after the sparks clear from Donna’s dazzled eyes she realizes someone, probably with a professional grade flash, just snapped a photo of them. They’re ordinary people who had barbeque with the kids of a famous man and now they’re being stalked. It’s not fair to them or the Presley’s and her dad rages against the unfairness of it and how nice those kids were all the way back to his place. It keeps Donna from crying over the notion that Jesse went through all those motions this morning to make her think he liked her more than just a lay, and now it’s a sideways hug and a terse “goodnight.”

Jesse’s heart hurts as he drives the girls back to the center in Rosalee’s car, smiling softly as he listens to their protests against his ratty motel and noticing the car behind trailing their every turn. He knew that the rehabilitation was wrapping up and he knew they were getting sloppy at laying low. There’s been a countdown in his head that’s kept him going, after all, and they’re so close now to the finish line that he had burned out and fallen into Donna’s arms for the last leg. The fact it is the last leg makes him jittery with a thousand thoughts at once. The chief one is how unfair it all is.

For her mainly.

But if there’s one thing Donna taught him last night, it was to take a little time to hurt for himself. By the time he sneaks Daisy back into the Center under a cloak of darkness and drives Rosalee to a hotel fit for housing a nice girl like his sister is, his heart just about wants to burst with hurt. He sends Rosalee up to her room with a kiss to the forehead and plans to have her car back in time for her to drive back tomorrow. He goes cback out to the parking lot and making a beeline for the beater Mercedes’ parked three rows down from his ride. He raps on the window and it doesn’t even take the gun in his boot to freak the unexpecting and nosy little bastard in the driver seat.

“Hey, brother.” Jesse greets as the guy actually rolls the window down in his panic on being confronted, “You like my route?” he asks congenially but there’s an edge to his voice that isn’t false bravado, “I noticed ya liked the barbecue, too. Wanna come up to my room and watch me sleep? Or were you gonna wait till I leave and try that with my sister? Hmm?”

The guy, like most guys in the nation, knows what Jesse did to the last fella who tried something with Rosalee, how his brother Jack and his friend Sam and the whole of Sam’s squad from the Memphis police just sipped bourbon while Jesse drug the fucker by the balls down S. Riverside Dr. It makes the smirking boy at his window a lot more imposing than his decent stature, hippy length hair and strong hands seem on first impression. “N-no man I’m here- I’m here to- uh-“

“Just hand me the damn film rolls and we’ll part ways, ok?” Jesse holds out his hand expectantly and the guy hesitates a bit. Sighing heavily, Jesse reaches into his back pocket for the persuasive shit and he can see the man’s panic show in his eyes again as Jesse reaches, only for it to be replaced by confusion as he’s presented with a badge of sorts. “This here badge was given to me by President Nixon himself, alright? Back when he asked to meet my daddy in the Oval Office, and he gave me this badge and it’s got the authority to demand such private property as photographs of my face and my sisters’ faces, ya understand? I wouldn’t wanna get you into trouble none by writing a damn reportc a. Just -hand ‘em over, k?”

The guy still hesitates, doubtful he’ll get off so easily and wary to give in and still get his ass handed to him. To be perfectly honest he doesn’t care much about some badge that some impeached President gave a rockstar’s fifteen year old kid . “Really, dude, I’m just here to meet a-“

“You really wanna see what my daddy gave me for my birthday last year?” Jesse asks with burdened patience and somehow, without it even being said, the man knows that birthday gift was a gun. Elvis Presley has been downright insane for some time now, it just fits. Jesse Presley, lanky frame bent to wedge into his low window like a looming specter in the dark doesn't look much more stable. He fumbles in the passenger seat and grabs the priceless rolls containing an excellent shot of that girl he’s been hanging out with, in her car with her dad as she pulls out of the barbecue place. It hurts the guy deeply to watch them go but he comforts himself with the thought of all the earlier snaps he’d managed to drop at the publishers earlier.

“Here, Jeeze.” the guy plops them in Jesse’s large palm and Jesse’s fingers curl over them elegantly while his pointer finger beckons still.

“Gimme the one in the camera, c’mon now. I’m not stupid.”

“You can’t shoot me-“

“No, I can do way worse, believe me. The roll, give it here!” Jesse’s ringed fingers make a gimme-gimme motion and the guy notices that those rings would make a mean and gaudy sort of brass knuckle if tested. His nose hurts at just the thought.

He hands over his camera and despite expecting the kid to drop the precious thing and stomp on it or something, all Jesse does is pop the lid and take out the roll. Adding it to the others in his back pocket along with that stupid and sentimental badge that belongs in an era back when his famous daddy still had the nation’s respect.

“Thank you for your cooperation,” Jesse murmurs as he hands back the neutered camera, “and I hope you understand that if I ever catch you at this again, for myself or my friends, you’re gonna have more audits and subpoenas than you do donuts in that gut. Am I understood? I’ll bury your ass.”

It’s freaky getting threatened so effectively by a teenager. Like he’s old inside and knows that paperwork is scarier than a knife when you’re tired and broke. Most of these Presley’s belong in the loony bin or the MET, with Elaine Presley being the latter and the rest of her family the former. Either way, all of them need to be under lock and key, except they're too rich for that. And they’re certainly rich enough to make the guy’s

I life a living hell. Or very rich if he were to sell pictures of Jesse Presley necking a rehab nurse on his bike.

“Yeah ok, can I go?” the guy asks, exasperated.

“By all means, get the hell away from my family!” Jesse smiles and backs away, patting at the back of the guy’s car in farewell before the man hears a screeching sound of metal ripping off.

He frantically looks behind him only to find Jesse innocuously sauntering back to his bike in the dark parking lot. Suspicious of what the kid did, and suspecting a poked tire but too scared to get out and investigate while he’s still on the prowl, the guy waits and watches as the kid’s bike revs to life. Sure enough Presley steers the thing right past his window while waving the guy’s license plate like a giant metal envelope in his hand.

“Have fun without this, man, lotta bored cops on the lookout tonight!”

Feeling very good and very angry, Jesse waits at the red light, full aware the guy is watching him and when the fucker doenst get the hint to leave the parking lot ahead of him, Jesse revs his motor and bekons the guy over like a gentlman ushering a lady through the door first. Exhaust fumes have never smelt so sweet to him as he takes a turn trailing the guy until he’s well out of Dallas and nearing Arlington, well away from Daisy and Rosalee.

And Donna. Jesse’s blood boils and the hot summer air clings to his neck as he peels off into the dark of night and heads back to his motel with its greasy bedspread and its mildew shower where he’s gunked up the drain with his fervor for her large lips and sweet eyes and eyebrows that are like busy caterpillars dancing across her forehead. He wants her so badly it’s painful and now he knows what it’s like to be with her and held by her and accepted so readily, so selflessly, so sweetly -it’s worse than before. He can’t even bear to think of settling for shower steam and his fist. He falls into bed and rolls onto his belly, pulling open the bedside drawer before placing the license plate next to the complementary motel Bible. It makes him smile, Donna’s got a phone and he’s got a license plate. He keeps staring at his tin trophy knowing fully well tonight’s slumber is merely metaphorical. He’ll not be sleeping a wink.

He’ll be thinking of her. And how he’s gotta be a bastard for a little longer to keep her safe. And how mama’s about to have a baby and daddy’s about to remarry her and Rosalee just started to sleep herself after the attack and how Daisy will be out and testing herself and how John will be coming home to Ella and their baby and -he really outta visit Ella while he’s here in Texas. And while she’s got Marie staying with her. Marie could use to see another face. There’s so much ahead and none of it needs to involve Jesse fending off reporters so he can go make professions of premature love to a little Texan with a penchant for his pancakes and clitoris nibbles.

Like the planner his mama taught him to be, he steadies himself with a hand to the bridge of his nose and lines all these frantic responsibilities into a tidy row. And to the side are his wants. For a few years now those have gotten a little dusty and he doesn’t begrudge that, not really. But right now he makes another column to this mental checklist.

His needs.

Which comprise Donna and more Donna and Donna forever. It’s so simple, the roses ahead that may take years but it is simple nonetheless.

Go get the girl, that’s what they all say. Daddy had done just that.

Jesse thinks about that phone he got her this afternoon, assuming she’s hauled it out of the trunk by now. He’s already arranged for someone to hook it up by next weekend.

Step one accomplished. He wants to laugh at his own impatience. Step one, already done. Before the end of the week he can be calling her and she’ll be wrapping her fingers around the phone like he wishes she would somewhere else and he can make comments about how nice the barbecue was and she can ask about Daisy’s progress once released.

And they can keep that up. Till he finds a time to marry her. Hopefully not in some red letter year that involves his parents remarrying or making a surprise child.

Hope y’all enjoyed! Your “bugging” and “screaming” is music to my ears, fuel to my fire and keeps me writing, please never hold back -this is a safe space for feral little Elvis loving rodents…like you and me.

If you’d like to be tagged in this particular series please drop a note below. I’ll admit I’m disorganized and have trouble keeping all the requests sorted when they’re scattered, what I do check regularly are the requests in the notes for chapters -and I do manage to get those added. So, if you’ve put in a request and I’ve failed ya, or if you’re new and would like to be added, please pop a note below. Xoxo

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[dontsh0vethesun]

gluttonous craving

part two of three | series masterlist

emily prentiss x reader

18+: referenced abuse and alcohol, brief sexual harassment, murder, restraints, blood, knives and stabbing, violence, smut; dom!emily, dark vibes, handcuffs, blood kink, knife kink, public sex, sex at a crime scene, degradation, gun kink, arousal brought on by violence??, choking, fingering, oral

wc: 3.1k

You’re always prepared, organised, detail-oriented. That’s what makes you so good at your job. If there’s one thing you’ve learned working within the Behavioural Analysis Unit, it’s that traits like these, no matter how good, can be used for evil. Smarts can work to your advantage and yours alone if you so choose. 

Being observant enough to recognise potential victims within the area is useful, especially in your case. Earlier in the day during even more interviews, you’d spotted someone, a nightly visitor of Owen’s bar just a few blocks from the police station. A forty-something-year-old male with an equally vile past as those who came before him.

You slowed your run to what seemed, to an outsider, to be a tired-out walk, lingering for just as long as you’d predicted until stumbling feet scuffed against the loose debris of the ground outside the bar. His eyes caught your own before you continued onwards, he took that as an invitation to follow you. 

It was almost laughable how predictable they all were, even without your astute skill for observation it’d be hard not to follow their routines. You knew what time he got to that bar, you knew how long ago he’d ordered the cheapest draft beer and taken a sip, and you knew how long he’d stewed in the back corner of the establishment before coming outside for a cigarette. It was like clockwork, the metallic flick of his lighter as it burnt the tobacco, the rough stepping of his feet when he caught your eye. 

All it took was an eye for detail. Of course, FBI-issued access to the locals of the area and their backgrounds was a huge help but you can’t help but feel a little smug at your so far faultless execution. You almost smile to yourself at the thought, slowing your pace to lean your back against the thick trunk of a tree, leaning your bag beside you before undoing the zipper to pull gloves onto your hands.

You pondered back on the past couple of days as you waited. 

You knew it wouldn’t be difficult to find another to fit the victimology, the world isn’t starved of abusive parents after all. And in a town as small as this, narrowing down the pool wasn’t much of a feat. He almost fell into your lap, just sitting there waiting for you to pounce; father to a son, a history of drinking, and an all too eager fist to match. 

Once the team had determined his son to be clear of guilt - across the country for a fresh start - you figured he was apt bait. You’d flicked through files printed with his information, reports of domestic abuse, prior arrests for assault, a son who left home at sixteen. He fit the age range of victims so far and it just so happened that the barkeep knew him by name. It wasn’t hard to pull the rest of your plan together. You’re not a beginner anymore. 

You feigned obliviousness at the sound of twigs crunching beneath a worn-out leather boot and acted as though you were worn out and breathy from running, unaware of the freshly finished cigarette butt being flicked to the ground as he approached. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he slurred, stepping closer to you, so much so that you could smell the sourness of his breath. “What? You playin’ hard to get?” he added with a huff of a laugh, an obvious agitation at the way you looked at him blankly. 

Unluckily for him, he hadn’t noticed the rock balanced in your hand, you wrapped your gloved fingers around it tighter as he approached. You weren’t going to let his hand come into contact with your body so you beat him to it, succeeding in the dull thump of his skull beneath the force before his body crumpled to the ground beneath you.

You stepped over where he lay to toss the bloodied rock into the nearby river, watching as its current carried it away. 

His wrists were soon bound together by the rope you’d stored in your bag, knotted tightly and with precision, a neatness matching those you’d studied with your teammates. All of your knowledge let you know that he’d only be out for a few minutes so you watched him take his shallow breaths just waiting for his eyes to blink open. 

The sight of the glint of moonlight against the shining blade of a knife made your heart beat rapidly in your chest. It was the same type of weapon you’d used multiple times before, having acquired more than enough duplicates without a trace specifically for your current project. You’d planned it all out methodically. A means of destroying evidence, measures put in place to leave no trace of yourself behind, items procured with zero paper trail as though you were an expert in getting away with murder. The BAU has taught you quite a bit. 

You perked up at the sight of his foot twitching, easily hearing the shifting of his breath with the quietness of the secluded wooded area around you. You don’t consider this as fun, moreso something that must be done. It’s that itch you can’t live without scratching and it built itself up within you until you let it take hold, giving in one night after a haphazard plan. You almost consider yourself as something of a vigilante, taking out those that have caused pain. A pain you know well. So, though you wouldn’t label it a hobby, you might have some form of enjoyment in the act. 

You tapped the side of his face to bring him to, clearly annoying him with the harshness of the last slap if the grumble he let out was anything to go by. 

“Oh my God, hurry up,” you mumbled through your teeth, smiling slightly when his eyes locked onto yours. “There we go,”

You didn’t have all night. This was just a means to an end, nothing to take your time over, just a job to complete. You got to work, unable to savour the moment unlike the others, this time you had a kind of time limit; to be back at the hotel and in your bed for a sound night's sleep, showered clean and free of any remnants of the night. 

Almost like a choreographed piece of art, he took each blow you threw his way, copying your previous routines as you feel as though you must. The bone of his cheek cracked beneath the knuckles you punched it with, easily knocking his nose askew with blood already beginning to paint his skin. You ignored his cries of pain with a focus on your goal. 

Just like his predecessors, he thought he could somehow get the upper hand against a trained FBI agent but the hands that tried to reach for you despite their restraints were easily caught by yours and the resounding crunch of breaking fingers soon filled the space. 

The only attention you paid to his constant garbled words was a muttered sentence through gritted teeth. 

“I’m just making sure people like you can’t lay a finger on anyone ever again.”

You’re not too sure why he continued to shout out for help. You were too far away for anyone to hear. 

His plagued hands were battered and bruised, littered with cuts from swipes from your knife at each attempt he made to grab you, bones mangled beyond recognition. The rest of him didn’t differ too greatly. Your knife had left its mark, deep cuts and slashes across his torso, bright red blood spilling from deep wounds to his stomach. To his neck. His arms. Anywhere you could reach. This was the overkill that you, along with the rest of the team, had scrawled on a police station-issued whiteboard on day one. 

You could feel it within you when you were done, that your mind had quenched its craving, and you stepped back to admire your handiwork as much as you could within the darkened space. The trees hid most of the moonlight but you could still see the glistening crimson, the lifeless corpse of an abusive parent. 

You were breathless from the excursion and found it time for you to take your leave, taking your gloves off to free your untarnished hands. 

“Y/N?”

You didn’t see her watching these last few moments, she’d made sure to make her way over to you quietly. 

“Emily,” you spoke. “Emily, I-”

“Save it,” her voice was sharp as you approached each other. Observant as ever, she took note of the bag beside the tree, but she couldn’t keep her eyes off you. All the blood splattered onto your face, the painting of it against your clothes. 

She took the handcuffs attached to her belt and with each step she took forwards, you took one back until your back hit that same tree trunk. With a force that left you dizzy, she clicked them closed around your wrists, eyeing you darkly. 

“Please don’t do this, Em. Please. You don’t understand,” you pleaded with her but she only shook her head.

“See, I knew something was off. For a second - just a second - I thought it might’ve been you,” she began, keeping your body trapped. “How you left, how you said you had this craving. But fuck, I didn’t think it’d be true.”

There was something in her eyes that you couldn’t place. A desirable glint as she took in the blood of another against your skin. She licked her lips at the sight, the perfect way you looked so carnally divine. Your skin blanched with violence. 

She used one of your discarded gloves to pick the knife up from the ground, weighing it musingly in her hand whilst you just watched on in a dazed submissiveness. Ready to take whatever she gave just because it’s her. 

Your breath hitched in your throat when she used the blood-coated blade to nudge your head upward, letting her hot breath fall past her parted lips when she stroked it along the column of your throat, feeling the way you thickly swallowed. Her teeth grazed her bottom lip at the small whimper you couldn’t completely hide. 

“You like that, huh?” she laughed, taking a firm hold of your waist to pull your body closer to hers, pushing the dull edge of the blade against you harshly enough to restrict your breathing. 

She let it drop back to the ground in favour of holding onto you, crashing her lips into yours which surprised you. This definitely wasn’t the response you’d expected. You pulled at her shirt as best you could with your hands held back by the metal wrapped around them, feeling her body flush with yours while she claimed your mouth with her tongue pushing against yours. 

You could hardly breathe. Lungs deprived of the air that she had stolen with fervent kisses, heated and lustful. Dirty and unbecoming. If you were to look just past her body you’d see that lifeless mess you’d left behind and yet she consumed you anyway.

So lost in the moment, you didn’t notice the one hand that left your waist, only becoming aware of its new intentions when cold and hard metal brushed against your temple. 

“How about this, hm?” she breathed, pulling away from you with a bite to your lip that drew blood. She admired the sight. “Does my filthy little slut like this too?”

The barrel of her gun was cold against your warmed cheek, you followed its slow movements with your eyes peering down. Goosebumps littered your flesh when it made its way down, over the thin skin of your throat, your chest, and between your breasts in a way that made your nipples harden at the sensation. 

Emily only smirked at the way you shifted. She could see how you desperately wanted to hide how aroused she’d made you, how needy you become at just one look from her. One touch. 

With each centimetre she inched the gun downwards she took in the sight of red upon your clothing. She’d never thought something like this would stir her up this way, that she’d take one look and just imagine how divine you must’ve looked in action. She’d seen encounters you’d had with unsubs and shown you just how hot she found it the same night but not once had she envisioned herself wanting to fuck you senseless after finding you panting for air and covered in blood. 

But the sight was ethereal to her. 

The outfit you wore left little to the imagination, with barely anything between her and what she wanted. She assumed this was a tactical decision on your part - the less clothing there is, the less there is to get stained. It only made her want you more. 

You could feel the coolness of the steel weapon when she pushed the long side into your clothed cunt, watching it come into contact with you musingly while her other hand wrapped around your neck. She tutted at the pathetic sight of your hips twitching in an attempt to gain any semblance of friction you could. 

“I thought you would,” she rasped. “Just a dirty, needy, little thing.”

Her lips claimed yours again while you subconsciously pushed yourself onto her gun, feeling the reward within your core; the squeezing of your throat was dizzying. She let you catch your breath so she could pinch a pert nipple through your t-shirt, reveling in the small yelp at the roughness. 

You whined at the lack of contact when she holstered her gun again. 

“So fucking desperate,” she growled, pushing her hand past the waistband of your underwear with her fingertips instantly finding the soaking mess between your folds. “It’s pathetic, really.”

You moaned at the feeling of her touch gliding over your aching clit, stomach twisting with the ravenous way she touched you. She could feel how drenched you were when they pushed into you, curling sublimely while she paid attention to your bud with her thumb. 

Each thrust of her digits into you set you alight, knuckles making contact with you from the steady roughness of her pace. You don’t think you’ve ever felt such blissful pleasure, orgasm quickly approaching with your moans only quietened by the thumb she hooked over your teeth. You screw your eyes shut as your pussy clenched around her fingers and your legs began to shake with the feelings washing over you. 

“C’mon, baby. Make a mess, like the filthy girl you are.” Emily could feel her own arousal building, so turned on at just the sight and sound of you, especially when she watched you fall apart onto her hand. Your throat harbouring choked groans and your teeth digging into her thumb. 

She licked her fingers clean of every drop of you she could find, burying her hand within your hair to push you downwards. 

“Get on your knees and be a good girl,” she muttered, smirking slightly at the irony of the situation. You returned her expression, daring a quick look behind her, just for a moment. You struggled with the button of her jeans, grateful for her aid when she moved them downwards just enough to make her drenched cunt available to your wanting tongue. 

You soon dug in, obeying her instruction, flicking your tongue over her clit and humming at the sweet taste of her arousal on your lips. The bluntness of her nails scratched at your scalp with each lick of your tongue through her cunt, lapping away with your lips latching around her swollen clit. 

“Fuck, just like that, sweetheart,” she groaned out above you, pushing your face into her sex with disregard towards your need for air. She just needed to feel you, rutting her hips to chase her high, dripping down your chin much to your delight. 

You loved the taste of her, you adored how you could pull such explicit ramblings from such a woman with your tongue. She felt her orgasm approach with the swiping of your tongue within her and soon came into your mouth with a harsh tug at your hair. 

She rode herself through her coursing pleasurable sensation, fucking herself onto your face until she was through with you. It was then that she helped you stand again, tasting herself on your lips when she kissed you. 

“So, you’re not arresting me?” You questioned her once you’d both calmed your pounding heartbeats and she unclasped the cuffs from your wrists. 

“No,” she laughed. “Call me crazy but when you’re girlfriend looks hot while killing shitty men, why would you do such a thing?”

You laughed at that and leaned into her touch when she pulled a wipe from your bag to clean your face. Emily never imagined being in this position, finding your fellow FBI agent to be the latest unsub wasn’t an everyday occurrence, but knowing why you did it and feeling this way about you, her choice seemed clear. She’d always had a slight darkness within her and she supposes this is how it comes to light. 

That’s what shadows do. They hide things in the dark. 

It was a while later that you spoke again, you ruminated on the last couple of hours in a comfortable quiet as you walked hand in hand along the route you’d methodically planned. She’d handed you the spare clothes in the woods for you to change and helped you rid yourself of the blood and dirt. 

She watched in amazed silence at the pre-collected evidence you had in plastic baggies in the side pocket of the backpack. That suspect you’d all found to be a fine candidate had sipped a cup of water during his interrogation - you’d swiped his DNA. You left traces on the sleeve of the victim’s coat. 

Luckily for you, he also donned a hat. Unluckily for him, his hair was now at a soon-to-be crime scene. Emily only adored you more for your almost scary attention to detail. 

She sat on the pile of discarded junk in the isolated parking lot you’d pinpointed on a map, watching each rehearsed movement as you piled the contents of your evening into a metal bin, pulling matches and lighter fluid from your bag to watch it all disintegrate beneath the lick of a flame. It was fascinating to her to watch you in your focused element - an insight into the criminal she’d been profiling for weeks. She’d be showering with you again tonight, she’d decided. 

“So, what’s next?” she asked you when you perched beside her, both of you watching it all burn. 

[1dcommunityficrecs]

Time Travel Rec List!

No fooling, today we have 9 time travel fics for your reading pleasure! Three are short and sweet, under 10k words; three are moderate at around 50k, and three are behemoths of over 100k! We also have a rarepair in the form of a Ziam canon-divergence time-travel fix-it fic.

Please enjoy, leave comments and kudos, and get ready for the next theme (as soon as I can decide what it is...)

The Second Hands Unwinds by kingsofeverything (51573, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) - fic post

Louis Tomlinson is one of the first members of NASA's top secret Chrono Exploration Program. When things go wrong and he's sent further back in time than planned, he has no other option than to show up on his ex-boyfriend's doorstep.

Reccer says: I think everyone knows this fic, NASA au, but how can we not recommend it? The plot is great, it's emotional, it's really good. Sp, so beatuiful, so immersive, the characters are written perfectly and it absolutely made me cry.

De amore ex tempore by Persephoneflouwers (101471, Mature, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) - fic post

Or: the Middle Ages AU where Harry is a philosopher, whose thoughts happen five centuries too soon and Louis is a painter, whose art happens five centuries too late. Or: the Time Travel AU where alternate versions of themselves live simultaneously in different realities and their paths collide every time, until somehow, they converge into one.

Reccer says: Much of the story takes place during the Florentine Renaissance, at the end of the Middle Ages, and it's beautiful and well-written. I was at the Louvre a while back and while looking at the Caravaggio and Trevento paintings, images of De Amore Ex Tempore came to mind. Beyond that, I also really liked the story, the meeting of this Louis from the future with a Harry from the Middle Ages. It just goes to show that, whatever the era, they're bound to find each other!

There’s Such a Lot of World to See by Crinkle-Eyed-Boo (125000, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) - fic post Warnings: Harry dies twice, but it all works out and has a happy ending!

Doctor Who AU with Louis as The Doctor and Harry as the Companion, inspired by the Impossible Girl story from series 7.

Reccer says: It has everything you need! Thrills, angst, romance, smut, and time travel!

billow and breeze (islands and seas) by Pleasinglouis (102506, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) - fic post Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence

Two words sum it up: Outlander AU.

Reccer says: And here again, two words are enough to recommend: Outlander AU...

Old Photographs & Times I'll Remember by Jaerie (53918, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) - fic post

A camera, a suitcase, and a relationship forged through time.

Reccer says: It's beautifully written and poignant.

i know i've grown (but i can't wait to go home) by LiveLaughLoveLarry (7230, Teen, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) - fic post Warnings: Violence, murder, injury (not graphic)

Louis falls down a hill and into the past. A historical castle is suddenly full of life, including a hot prince -- and his evil twin.

Reccer says: I really enjoy the use of language and speech patterns between the modern Louis and the historical Harry!

Timeless by babyhoneyhslt (3867, General, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) - fic post

Based on "Timeless" by Taylor Swift. Harry wanders into an antique shop and finds himself pulled back in time, through a series of lifetimes. And in every one -- there's Louis.

Reccer says: I'm always a sucker for the idea that in every timeline and every universe these two would find each other -- and getting to have that multiple times in one story just cements that.

saw some things on the other side by we_are_the_same (61352, Mature, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) - fic post Warnings: Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence

When Louis moves into the mansion he’s inherited from his great grandfather, he has a plan that consists of three things. One, he’s going to finish writing the next novel in his series. Two, he’s finally going to get over his ex-fiancé. And three, while battling writer’s block and having to resist the urge to kill off the main character in his books – the hot detective based on his ex-fiancé – he’s going to restore the mansion to its former glory. Unfortunately, Louis’ plan doesn’t take into account the fact that instead of writing murder mysteries, he will find himself in one.

Reccer says: I love the way the writer manages the time/dimension travel trope!

(I pray to God I didn’t waste) all my good years by we_are_the_same (6864, General, Zayn Malik/Liam Payne) - fic post Warnings: Does "post-march 25th" count as a warning?

Liam goes to sleep in a world where Zayn has just left One Direction. He wakes up somewhere quite different.

Reccer says: The angst of it all!!

[mc-i-r]

Disposable Heroes

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four Ao3

A/N: Guys, I’m so sorry for the late update! Life has been crazy for me the past couple weeks but I hope that I can get back to writing more regularly. This chapter is the well-awaited Eddie pov, as well as a ton of backstory for him that I didn’t really plan on but it just kinda came out. This chapter is kinda rushed, I’m gonna be honest, but I wanted to get it out to you guys as soon as possible since its been awhile. There are gonna be some major warnings here so I’ll post them below. Take care of yourselves and stay safe, now enjoy!

Tw: homophobia, homophobic language, child abuse, domestic violence, referenced drug use, Eddie being incredibly gay

———

It’s a muggy Sunday morning, the summer sun burning through the last vestiges of chilled night air and frosted dewdrops as it rises from its slumber. Like the sun, Eddie rises as well. However, it’s with much less fanfare and grace due to the obnoxious pounding at his front door.

He groans dramatically, shoving his face in his pillow and willing whoever the fuck decided to bother him at—he glances at his alarm clock on the other side of the room, squinting to read the numbers—nine in the morning to go away. His wish must have pissed off some universal god because the knocking only gets louder, making the window above his desk rattle with every shake of the door.

With a sigh big enough to rival the windy intro of “Holy Diver”, he pulls himself to the door in a zombie-like state. Movements sluggish from his interrupted sleep, he misses the doorknob twice before finally turning it, throwing it open with newfound strength to find one Robin Buckley in all her glory. Her fist is raised and ready to knock again, her face the epitome of righteous fury as she glares at him.

“Uh, hey Buck. Whatcha doi—“ he begins, only to be interrupted by Robin shoving past him and barging into the trailer. He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face and pulling on his hair slightly before shutting the door.

Kids and their manners nowadays.

“Yeah, sure, come on in. Totally fine. I wasn’t sleeping or anything, noooo,” he says to himself before turning to face his intruder. Whatever Buckley is upset about seems serious, and from the icy look she’s giving him it also seems like it’s his fault. Her hands are on her hips like she’s in a Steve Harrington impersonation contest and plans on taking home a first place prize. Something in him squirms at the thought.

But, he is nothing if not a performer. So, of course, he puts on a show.

“Lady Buckley,” he declares in a posh British accent, bowing deeply with a flourish on his arm. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company on this fine morning?”

He’s expecting a fond eye roll, or a laugh, or huff, or something. He gets silence.

“Cut the bullshit, Eddie. We need to talk about Steve,” she demands.

Steve… Now isn’t that an interesting subject?

Now, Eddie has always been different. He was loud, and jumpy, and fidgety, and the other kids never wanted to be friends with him because they were scared. He was always covered in dirt, always barefoot because he either forgot to put on shoes or the ones he had were too small for his ever-changing feet. He would talk to himself, mutter little reminders under his breath or work through the questions plaguing his mind aloud because he just functioned better that way.

Then, at eleven, he found out just how different he really was. He was outside during recess when he fell off the monkey bars and scraped his hands and knees. He huddled on the ground, tears falling down his small cheeks because it hurt and his wounds felt like they were throbbing. Then a boy, James, ran up to him and asked him if he was okay. James had stark blond hair, a face full of freckles, and bright green eyes. He looked so concerned for Eddie, and was gentle when he picked up one of his hands to inspect the cuts littered there. It was that gentle touch that elicited a flutter of butterflies in his stomach, and ever since then Eddie knew.

When he had gotten home to the trailer that day, he felt confused. Other people in his class were constantly talking about who they “liked”; boys liking girls and girls liking boys. About how they would get all nervous around their crushes, and Eddie realized he had never felt that before. All of the girls in his class were just… girls to him. They never gave him that fluttery feeling James had. But… no one ever talked about boys liking boys. No one ever said if it was okay, so Eddie thought it must not be. That boys liking boys wasn’t okay. That he wasn’t okay.

It took awhile, but he finally confessed to Wayne that he liked boys, that he got all the little butterflies that boys were supposed to get about girls. Wayne shook his head and told him that he could feel butterflies for anyone he pleased, as long as they made him happy. They both cried that night, and ended up in a hug so tight they nearly fused together.

Since then, Eddie’s come to accept the fact that he’s gay. Has added it to his whole anti-conformist persona, even. So when high school hit he let himself finally be free. He joined Hellfire club, made friends with the upperclassmen who ran it, and learned all the intricacies of D&D that he never imagined he would. After two years, he met Gareth and Jeff who joined Hellfire much in the way he did. Then, Grant joined halfway through Eddie’s junior year and he quickly recruited him as well. He found his friends, his people, and he finally let himself be himself around them.

He told them he was gay after a long session of lazily practicing in Gareth’s garage and smoking, the weed having loosened both his limbs and his lips. They were all extremely chill with it, even after the weed had worn off. That, however, didn’t exempt them from making fun of him though.

Eddie was loitering in the hallway after school, waiting on Gareth to finish up a quiz he missed the week prior, when none other than Steve Harrington walked out of the pool room in nothing but those little speedos that leave zero to the imagination. Seriously, all those girls were right, holy shit. After he picked his jaw up off the floor, he noticed Steve was looking at him with that adorable little confused puppy look before a god damned smirk fell across his face. Eddie’s face, he knew, had to rival that of a Victorian nobleman fawning over a sliver of pale skin shown by a lady across the room with her face hidden by an elaborate fan because he was literally drooling for the man in front of him.

It got considerably worse when Steve leaned down to drink from a nearby water fountain, making Eddie’s mouth go completely dry with this blatant offering of ass right in his face. In hindsight, it might not have been an offering, per say, but it was definitely there and Eddie was definitely staring. So it really wasn’t a surprise that he jumped when Gareth tapped his shoulder, Eddie having not heard him come up behind him, and he turned on his heel so fast he’s surprised he didn’t get whiplash.

“Dude, you good?” Gareth asked. Eddie opened his mouth, squeaked out, “I’m fine” and immediately felt his face go up in flames. Gareth glanced over Eddie’s shoulder and he could see in slow motion the series of thoughts that crossed his mind. Gareth went from concerned to confused to understanding to smug so fast it was almost comical. When their eyes met, Eddie’s went wide.

“Don’t you dare say a word,” he hissed, and the smug look only intensified.

Once they got to his van, Gareth immediately rounded on him.

“Seriously? Steve Harrington?” Gareth teased. “Of all people, it had to be that douche?”

Eddie groaned and clenched his eyes shut. “I know, Garebear, now shut up before I push you out of the van.”

Of course, news about his little crush spread around his friend group like wildfire, and soon enough he was being teased by them relentlessly. Eddie knew his crush wouldn’t get very far, Steve was very clearly straight and in a happy relationship with Nancy Wheeler of all people. Still, Eddie couldn’t stop thinking about that smirk.

Just as his crush began to fade away, Steve showed up to school with a busted face and eye bags deep enough to rival shitty vampire Halloween make-up from a toddlers costume contest. Feelings came rushing back, the intense need to protect, to find out what happened and get justice for that pretty face.

Then it kept happening, and Steve showed up to school with a beat up face yet again. However, judging by his stumbling and droopy eyes, it came with a concussion this time. Just when Eddie was trying to figure out who did it, Billy Hargrove came stalking through the empty halls and all attention was focused on his scabbed knuckles. On the hungry glare he sent Steve’s way. On the way Steve shrank back a little on instinct.

And Eddie… Eddie just couldn’t leave well enough alone, now could he?

He walked up to Steve, brows furrowed. “Harrington?”

Harrington didn’t turn, eyes still focused on the spot where Billy had been before. Eddie tapped his shoulder. “Steve?”

He jumped that time, like Eddie had actually hit him, and spun to face him. Up close, his face looked a hell of a lot worse and Eddie had to suppress a wince just looking at him. Steve looked at him confused, though it was hard to tell between the swelling and assortment of bandages on his face.

“…Munson?” Steve began. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you come up.”

He said it flippantly, with a wave of his hand towards his left ear like that explained everything. It didn’t, but Eddie felt like it wasn’t his place to push.

“You good, man? You look like you got in a fight with a dump truck and lost,” Eddie said. “Badly.”

He expected Steve to scoff and roll his eyes, push past him and hit his shoulder too hard to be an accident. He expected him to spit some barb and walk away, to leave Eddie there in the hallway alone. None of that happened, though.

Instead, Steve smiled. A little self-deprecating, but a smile nonetheless. He huffed a laugh.

“Make it a supercharged dump truck and you’ve got it right,” Steve joked at his own expense. It resulted in a shocked laugh bursting from Eddie’s lips, which he immediately stopped by smacking a hand over his mouth.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, pulling his hand away. “That’s not funny. I mean… your joke was, just not,”—he gestured to Steve’s… everything—“this.”

“It’s okay man, I know what you meant,” Steve said sincerely and Eddie doubted why he was ever called King Steve. The person who stood in front of him was the furthest thing from what those jocks supposedly worshiped that Eddie had to hide another bubble of laughter.

“Seriously, dude, did you even go to a doctor?” Eddie asked, and at Steve’s wince he knew the answer. He rolled his eyes and slung an arm around his shoulders, careful not to land too hard in case he was bruised there too, and led him down the hallway towards the nurse’s station.

“Uh,” Steve began. “Where are we going?”

“The nurse,” he explained. “Figured a look wouldn’t hurt, right?”

Steve’s shoulders relaxed a little under his arm, and Eddie decided to focus on him during their walk down the empty hallway. He noticed the way his hair bounced a little with every step, how a couple strands were threatening to fall from their perfectly coiffed positions. He noticed his moles and freckles, how he had a smattering of faint ones all over his face from time in the sun. He noticed how his nose was a little crooked now, with a bump on the bridge that wasn’t there before the weekend. He noticed how pretty his eyes were, with at least three different shades of brown all swirled together like melted chocolate with flecks of forest green nestled in the folds.

He noticed that Steve was looking at him.

They had come to a stop in front of the nurse, yet Eddie’s arm was still over his shoulders. He quickly retracted it, but Steve didn’t move away and neither did he.

“Well, this is your stop,” Eddie nearly whispered out. Steve smiled, just a small quirk of his lips, and his eyes flitted across Eddie’s face.

“Thanks, Eddie,” he started. Steve took a step backwards toward the station and did a little wave with his fingers that had no right being as endearing as it was. “See you around.”

With that, he disappeared behind the thick mahogany door and Eddie was left there alone, face full of flames and smiling like he was in fucking love with the guy.

Fuck, maybe he was a little bit in love with the guy.

That feeling didn’t waver, not even after seeing him in a skimpy sailor uniform as he scooped overpriced ice cream for toddlers in the Mall. Or, when he was pinning him to the rickety wall of the boathouse he was hiding in after seeing Chrissy murdered in front of him by some freaky wizard from an alternate dimension with a broken bottle to his beautifully freckled throat.

That feeling greatly intensified when he saw Steve take an honest to god bite out of a demonic bat and spit the flesh and blood out on the dried lakebed in the previously mentioned alternate dimension.

And, really, you can’t blame him for falling all the way when he found out exactly who dragged his half-dead body out of hell and saved his life.

So yeah, Steve was a very interesting subject indeed.

“Is… Is he okay?” Eddie questions as he straightens from his hunched position, head tilting to the side and making his bangs fall in his eyes. Robin throws her hands up with a mighty huff and a frustrated groan.

“Obviously not!” She exclaims. She starts pacing around his living room, back and forth in front of the coffee table. “He’s obviously not okay because you’ve been avoiding him and making him feel like shit for months and I’m actually really worried about him ‘cause he’s been doing stupid shit that can get him killed and I don’t know how much longer he can go on like this before it completely ruins him.”

As Robin rambles, her face turns a bright shade of pink. She finishes her speech, sucking in a deep breath as if she ran out of air. Eddie’s brows furrow.

“I haven’t been avoiding Steve,” he defends weakly. He hasn’t, not really. He just… he doesn’t want to get hurt.

Okay yes, Eddie is practically in love with the guy, but that doesn’t mean Steve feels the same about him. They’re friends, that’s it. Steve is going to find some beautiful girl and get married and have the houseful of kids he’s always wanted and Eddie will be here, still pining from afar. He knows it would be easier to just forget about him, and forget about the feelings clutching his heart like a starved hawk with its first fulfilling catch in months. That’s why he’s been slowly letting go over the past few weeks, trying—and failing—to get that stupid pretty boy out of his head. Of course, it’s not working, and every day he spends not talking to Steve feels like hell.

So no, he’s not avoiding Steve. He just doesn’t think he could survive it if he confesses and Steve rejects him completely. Staying away means he won’t accidentally reveal his feelings for the man, and judging by how much he’s feeling, it wouldn’t be very hard for that scraggly cat to come clawing and screeching out of the proverbial bag.

Robin, however, thinks the opposite because according to the look she’s giving him, she says he absolutely fucking has.

Eddie sighs. “Okay, maybe I have just a little bit but it’s not—“

Eddie freezes, stomach plummeting as Robin's rambling words take purchase in his mind. She said Steve was doing something stupid, something that could kill him. Flashes of a night now a distant memory play in his mind, one filled with panicked breaths, stilted tears, and a bloody bat with nails.

“Robin… What do you mean by ‘stupid shit’?” Eddie asks tentatively. Part of him wants to know the answer, while part of him fears the idea of ever finding out. Robin only gives him a confused look and crosses her arms.

“Eddie, that’s totally not the point of this conversation and you know it—“ Eddie cuts her off by waving his hands.

“Robin! Just…” he trails off. Should he tell her about Steve? He promised he wouldn’t but…

“Okay, I have to tell you something about Steve but please please don’t tell him I told you because I promised him I wouldn’t but if you also know something about him then I think you should know about this too,” he rushes out, words tumbling fast out of his mouth as his lungs scream for air. Robin’s icy glare has melted a bit, turning into one of anxiety and caution.

He sighs and flops down on the couch, resting his elbows on his knees as he looks down at his hands. He feels more than sees Robin sit next to him and he knows he has her attention.

“What happened, Eddie?” She prompts, and he takes it as a sign to continue.

“I had a visit from Steve awhile back, around four or five days ago,” he begins. “It was early in the morning and I couldn’t sleep so I was writing notes for a new campaign idea in the living room. I could feel that something was… off, so I looked out the window and there he was.”

He ran a hand over his face, pushing his bangs back and pulling on the ends. He glances over at Robin to find her looking at him. He squeezes his eyes closed for a moment before looking back at her.

“He wasn’t all there, Robin. Like… like he was trapped in his mind or something. I thought,” he huffs a deprecating laugh, “for a moment there, I thought he was cursed.”

He doesn’t mention that the image found its way in his head and can’t seem to find its way out, like a stubborn housefly who keeps banging against the glass hoping to be freed. The thought of Steve floating—eyes rolled back in his head while his lids flutter and his limbs shudder and break one by one—has kept him awake on more nights than he can count. The thought of him being subjected to his worst nightmares given life, all the lies that he tells himself turned to truth. The thought of Eddie being completely helpless, watching him die in agony in front of him.

He doesn’t mention that every night since then, he’s called Steve. He needed to hear his voice, to know he was okay. To know he was alive. He never got a call back.

“I got him to come inside but he didn’t stay long. Something spooked him, I think, I just… I don’t know, it was really weird. Like…” he trails off, unable to find the words.

“Like he was in fight or flight mode?” Robin suggests, and he nods.

“Pure instinct.”

Robin groans. “Shit, this is worse than I thought.”

“Wait, did he tell you?” He asks. Steve was so insistent on Eddie not telling her—made him promise, in fact—so why…?

“Well… after a very long, very emotional, and very vulnerable conversation, yes. He told me on his own terms though, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she supplies. “He… He didn’t tell me a ton of details, though. Not… Not like that.”

There’s a pause as Robin clenches her eyes closed and looks away from him.

“I didn’t know it was that bad,” her voice comes out just barely above a whisper, something he wouldn’t have heard if he wasn’t right next to her. Eddie stays silent, unwilling to break the solemn mood. Robin, however, misses that message entirely as she smacks his arm.

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me, doofus?!” She accuses, giving him a half-hearted glare that is no less threatening. Eddie holds his hands up in surrender, unable to hide the exasperated look on his face.

“He made me promise!!” Eddie defends. “Plus he gave me those damn puppy dog eyes and I couldn’t say no.”

“He is really good at that, especially when he wants something. He says he has no clue but I bet you he does,” Robin whispers, almost conspiratory as if they’re sharing a terrible secret. Eddie can’t help but smile and shake his head. Screw Harrington and his stupid pretty eyes.

“Did he say anything else while he was here?” Robin asks after a moment of silence.

“No, that was the only thing he said really, other than an absent ‘I’m fine’ before he bolted out the door. It was a very uh… one-sided conversation,” Eddie explains. “He mostly gave only one or two word answers before he panicked and ran.”

“I’m gonna assume he didn’t tell you why he left?” She asks, and at the shake of his head she curses. “Fuck.”

“Fuck indeed.”

Robin shifts beside him, raising her hand to mindlessly chew on her thumbnail. He thinks the conversation is over. Or, rather, wishes it were over.

That universal god must really hate Eddie today because Robin roughly shakes her head and waves her hands around, letting out a huff.

“Okay, one problem at a time. That was totally not the point of this little talk and you know it, Munson,” she admonishes. “Why. Are. You. Avoiding. Steve?”

She punctuates each word with a, quite literal, punch to the arm. Eddie reels back, dramatically clutching his bruised arm and gives her a fake glare.

“Ow!!” He rubs his arm. For her incredibly bony arms, she really can pack a punch. He’s only half joking that it hurts.

“Answer the question!”

“Fine fine…” he takes a deep breath, knee bouncing with building anxiety before he stands up, unable to quell the urge to move. He paces twice in front of the coffee table before he has the nerve to look at her waiting gaze.

“So, as you know, I am a raging homosexual,” he states, and at his pause, she nods. “And I miiiiiight have a teeny weeny, itsy bitsy, enormous crush on him.”

The end of his sentence is rushed out, words jumbled together as he screws his eyes closed and waits for… whatever Robin’s response is going to be. He waits for five seconds. Then ten. Then twenty-five because yes he’s counting. If he knows one thing about Robin Buckley it’s that she doesn’t know when to stop talking so silence is a very rare occurrence for her and now its been a whole minute and something must be wrong so he opens his eyes to find her—

The only word that even remotely comes close to encompassing the expression on her face is seething.

He instinctively takes a step back.

“Edward Lee Munson you better explain yourself right fucking now or I swear to every god out there that I will rip out your spleen and feed it to the neighborhood dogs before you take a step out that door,” Robin all but growls out, eyes icy and cold as they stare through him. He’s quick to explain because he really quite values his spleen, thank you very much.

“Okay, okay, geez I get it! Fine,” he huffs. “I’ve been avoiding Steve because it’s hard to be around him.”

Robin only raises an eyebrow. Eddie groans. He really wishes he didn’t have to explain his big, fat, gay love this early in the morning.

“It’s hard because he’s so…. So Steve all the time. He’s so kind and caring and hot— god, Birdie, he’s so fucking hot—“

“Okay, yeah, I didn’t need to know that,” Robin interrupts.

“Sorry,” he says, a bit sheepish. “Every little smile he gives me feels like a swarm of butterflies are fighting horde-style to get out of my stomach. I just…

“I think I’m in love with him,” Eddie confesses. The way her eyes blow wide is comical, and he’s half expecting them to pop and burst like they do in cartoons.

“But I know better,” he gives her a sad smile. “I know that I’m not special, he doesn’t mean it like that. Like I want it to. And…. And I know he never will.

“I thought that distancing myself would make the feelings go away, make it… I don’t know, hurt less? But not seeing Steve at all… fuck, it hurts worse than dying and I know what that feels like. Now I don’t even have him as a friend,” he scoffs at himself, shakes his head a little and focuses on a framed picture of him, Steve, Robin, and Dustin from graduation on the wall. Focuses on how Steve’s arm is wrapped around his shoulders, hand gripping his upper arm as he smiles shyly at the camera. How Eddie himself is leaning into his side, tucked under his arm as if he belongs there. As if he’ll ever belong there. He looks back at Robin.

“But this is what’s best. I can’t have my stupid heart feeling things my brain knows it shouldn’t,” Eddie ends his little speech by flopping back down on the couch. Part of him regrets telling her, but another small, itty bitty part is almost grateful.

Eddie’s always had a way of caring too much, even from a young age. Wayne could tell you better than anyone that Eddie has always had a soft side. He could tell you that Eddie refused to let him kill any of the bugs that got into the trailer when the weather turned cold and insisted that they be put outside under the trailer where it was at least a little warmer. He could tell you that every time Eddie would see another person cry, he would too.

He’s just always been like that, so carrying this around with him everyday? It was becoming too much to bear, having to put on a face around everyone so no one could tell. So no one could see how it was breaking him inside. Wearing him down to the bone. Slowly, slowly killing him.

Robin sighs beside him and he had almost forgotten she was there. Her voice is quiet and strangely gentle as she speaks.

“Why do you think that, Eddie?”

What?

“What?” He asks incredulously and knows his face is in a similar state to his voice.

“Why do you think Steve wouldn’t like you like that? Has he said anything to make you think he wouldn’t?” She clarifies, which really doesn’t clarify anything at all for him because what?

“Um… are we talking about the same Steve? You know, Steve Harrington, Hawkins’ resident ladies man? Why the fuck would you think I’d have a shot?” He explains. “He’s so painfully straight and I am so painfully not, Robin.”

Robin just looks at him like she’s trying to read his mind. Or, rather, push a thought into his mind. Waiting for something to click. It doesn’t. Eddie rolls his eyes.

“Besides, Steve never tried to talk to me about the whole distance thing, so I just—“

“You know what happens when people assume things, Eddie,” Robin interrupts.

“—figured that he didn’t mind,” Eddie finishes with a glare. Robin closes her eyes and takes a breath as if calming herself. She pinches her nose, right between her eyes like Steve always does when he’s frustrated or tired, and turns to him. She takes his hands in hers, and her face is only a mere mask of calm, the tumbling waves of anger rolling just under the surface.

“Eddie,” she begins. “Have you ever thought of the possibility that Steve doesn’t talk about his feelings? That he would keep it all bottled up inside like he does with literally everything else?”

Well, when she puts it like that…

“Fuck.”

“Yeah,” Robin agrees. “I only found out about this whole… thing two days ago and that was only because I just so happened to catch him falling asleep at work. He wouldn’t have told me if I didn’t ask him, I know that for sure. He… Eddie, he honestly believes that this is all his fault. That he’s the one that fucked everything up between you and he kids.”

Eddie’s brain screeches to a halt. “Wait, what do the kids have to do with this?”

“You haven’t told them anything?” Robin asks, eyes going a little wide.

“Have I told a bunch of teenagers—whose opinions I regretfully respect—that I have a crush on their babysitter? No, I have not.”

“Okay, yeah that was a stupid question, sorry,” she amends. “Just… the kids are avoiding Steve and I can’t think of a reason why.”

“They’re what!? Wait, why haven’t I heard of this until now?” Eddie exclaims. Robin gives him a look that makes him deflate a little. “Let me guess, you only found out two days ago?”

“Bingo, we have a winner!” Robin fake cheers, raising her arms in a mock-celebratory fashion. She drops them with a huff. “They haven’t talked to him in weeks, Eddie, and I think it’s because you have been avoiding him.”

Her tone isn’t accusatory, but it still makes him feel like shit.

“They must have picked up the sense that something was going on between you two and assumed they should be avoiding him too,” she suggests. Eddie leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“I don’t get how they could think that, though. I mean, Steve has been nothing but good to them for years now.”

“I know,” Robin agrees. “But they’re kids. Stupid, dumb, ungrateful kids, but they’re still kids.”

Eddie drops his head in his hands, pressing hard on his eyes until spots form behind his eyelids.

“I really fucked this up, didn’t I?” He asks it rhetorically, but Robin gives a noise of agreement anyway. “How do I fix this, Birdie?”

“You could start by talking to him,” Robin suggests.

Now isn’t that a terrifying thought?

Because knowing you have feelings for someone is one thing, but telling them? That’s something so far out of the realm of possibility for him that he’s never even thought about considering it.

“Have you lost your fucking mind, Buckley?” Eddie exclaims, looking over at her with wide eyes. “I’d like to keep all my teeth if you don’t mind. I mean, I know I’m not your type and everything but some poor schmuck would probably like to look at this face one more time before it's beat all black and blue.”

Robin only rolls her eyes at his rambling—which is rather hypocritical of her if you ask him, since she seems to treat rambling as an Olympic sport she plans on winning every time she opens her mouth. She grabs his face between her hands and honest to god shakes him.

“I can’t tell you everything, but I’m telling you to trust me and talk to him,” she practically demands, giving him a pointed look much like the one from before. Except he still doesn’t know what it means, as that final piece has yet to click into place.

He nods in her hold, partially afraid of her now, and she releases him.

“We need to fix this. Now,” Eddie insists. He looks over at her. “We need to talk to the kids.”

Eddie stands up, running to his room and groaning at the mess he left. Tossing his sheets and blankets back on the bed, he reaches under his bed for the walkie he knows he last saw under there three days ago. Except, it’s not there. He stands up, scrunches his eyebrows, and thinks.

Let’s see… it was next to the keychain that was on top of the VHS sitting on the books on the corner of the desk, then he moved it when he had to answer one of Lucas’ questions which he did while he walked around the trailer and he laid it down when he finished to get some cheese from the fridge, meaning—

Eddie runs back to the kitchen, finding the walkie on top of the fridge, right where he thought it would be.

“Got ya!” He grabs it and runs back to the living room where Robin is waiting very impatiently.

“Where even was that?” She asks but he ignores her, electing to set the frequency so he can talk to the kids all at once instead of answering her. He presses the button.

“This is Eddie the Banished calling an emergency Hellfire meeting pronto,” he orders into the speaker. “I repeat, emergency Hellfire meeting.”

He waits for a response. One minute. Two minutes. Three—

“Oh, for crying out loud,” Eddie mumbles, pressing the button again. “Over.”

Immediately, Dustin responds. “Hear you loud and clear, Eddie. Is this a code red situation? Over.”

“Nope, not a code red. More of a uh…” he glances over at Robin who shrugs. “Code yellow? I think. Over.”

“What the hell is ‘code yellow’? We don’t even have one of those,” comes Erica’s, as always, sarcastic remark. Eddie can faintly hear Lucas yelling in the background.

“Munson, you better not be shitting with us.”

“I promise you, Red, I wouldn’t. Not about this.”

“How many times do I have to tell you, people! You’re supposed to say ‘over’ when you’re done talking! Over.”

“Shove it, Dustybuns, the adults are talking.”

Eddie has to hold the walkie away from him at Dustin’s responding shriek. He presses a hand over his eyes. These kids are going to kill him one day.

“Guys, this is serious. Just get your asses over to my trailer as soon as possible. Robin’s already here, does someone have Little Byers and Supergirl?”

“I’ve got them. Over and out,” Mike responds.

“Erica and I are on our way. Over and out,” Lucas says.

“Be there in fifteen. Over and out,” Dustin declares. Eddie glances at Robin, sharing equally nervous and worried looks. This is not going to be fun.

Thirty minutes later, all of the kids are cramped in Eddie’s living room. Lucas, Max, El, and Mike are scrunched together on the couch, while Will and Dustin sit on the floor in front of them. Erica claimed Wayne’s recliner as soon as her and Lucas got there, refusing to move for the older teens.

Robin is standing next to him, hands on her hips again—really driving home the whole “Steve is my platonic soulmate” bit—as he stands there with his arms crossed. The two of them remind Eddie of disappointed parents about to tell off their kids, which, in reality, isn't too far off.

“Okay, what the hell?” Dustin asks, still breathless from the trek there. “I literally just got home an hour ago. Why did you call us and make us bike all the way here in the heat?”

“Because you deserve it for being shitheads,” Eddie defends and rolls his eyes. He’s met with a cacophony of dweeby teen voices as they retaliate.

“What did we do this time?”

“What?! We didn’t do anything!”

“What did Dustin do, now?”

“Me? Why am I the one being blamed? I wasn’t even here!”

“Because you’re too damn nosey, dude.”

“Ouch, Lucas. Ouch.”

“Hey!” Eddie yells, clapping his hands to get their attention. It startles them all enough to quit talking over each other and look back up at him. “Okay, I’m just going to get to the point. Why are you all avoiding Steve?”

Mike gives him a confused look and crosses his arms, his expression the epitome of teenage angst.

“We thought you hated Steve, dude. You would always leave the room whenever he was around with some shitty excuse so we just decided to do the same,” Mike answers. Dustin nods from his spot on the floor.

“Yeah, we all thought he did something or said something to you since every time we brought him up, you’d shut the conversation down somehow. It just… naturally progressed from not talking about him to not talking to him either,” Dustin explains.

“Steve stopped showing up to things, too. He used to help me practice but he’s not shown up in weeks,” Lucas adds.

“Mom’s gotten really worried about him. He’s not shown up to dinner in a while, either,” Dustin chimes in. He shrugs. “We just thought the feeling was mutual.”

Eddie clenches his eyes closed and throws his head back. Fuck, this is worse than he thought. He hears Robin shift beside him, and knows firsthand the look she’s giving them right now.

“Have any of you even considered asking Steve about this?” Robin asks accusatively. “Or even talking to him about anything other than rides or movie nights?”

Silence falls over the room, so thick and suffocating that Eddie briefly prefers the air of the Upside Down to this. He pulls his hair, scrunching down on the floor and balancing on the pads of his feet.

“This is all my fault,” he groans, twisting strands of hair frustratedly.

“It is,” Robin agrees and ignores the glare Eddie sends her way for that. “But we can still fix this.”

“Wait, what’s going on?” Mike asks.

“Why does Eddie look three seconds away from strangling himself with his hair?” Max hesitates, sounding the most cautious he’s ever heard her. Eddie groans and avoids eye contact with the group.

“The reason I’m avoiding Steve isn’t because I hate him. It’s uh… quite the opposite, actually,” he explains, nervously fidgeting with his rings and pulling a thick strand of hair to hide his face. He glances at Robin, who gives him an overly enthusiastic thumbs up, and he rolls his eyes.

Max and Erica give him equally smug smirks while Will looks at him with wide, understanding eyes. The rest of the group, however, look confused.

“Wait, then why are you avoiding him?” Dustin asks.

“Dude, that makes zero sense,” Mike counteracts. El just looks lost, almost like she’s trying to read his mind. Which… he really wouldn’t be surprised if she could at this point. Eddie sighs.

“That’s not the point,” Eddie redirects. “The point is that an issue with me and Steve shouldn’t affect you guys’ relationship with him.”

“Yeah,” Robin agrees, and he deftly ignores the pointed look she sends his way. “Steve has been there for all of you for years.

“Dustin, wasn’t it Steve who helped you catch D’art when he escaped from your cellar? He bought pounds of meat for you to lure a demodog away with, then fought a pack of them by himself to keep you safe. Steve put himself in the line of fire again against said demodogs in the tunnels after he was beaten unconscious by Billy, then sacrificed himself to Russians just so you and Erica could make it out alive a year later.”

Dustin clamps his mouth shut from its gaping position—likely from him wanting to defend himself from the truth—and has the decency to look sheepish. Eddie turns his gaze to Lucas.

“Lucas, wasn’t it Steve who helped you train for basketball when you started to show an interest in it? He practiced with you every week, even after a long shift at work or when he felt like shit, just because you asked. Steve protected you against Billy because it was the right thing to do, and took a beating so you wouldn’t. Not many people can say they’d do that for someone else, especially not against anyone as vicious as Hargrove,” Eddie adds. Lucas drops his head in his hands, knee bouncing from his place on the couch.

“Max,” Robin begins. “Steve checked up on you every day after Billy died. He would bring you food or ice cream or a distraction, but he was always there. He would drive you to the arcade just to cheer you up, let you beat him at Dig Doug and Pinball just to see you smile. Steve was terrified to let you be the bait for Vecna, he… he kept telling me that he wished it was him instead. That he should be the sacrifice, not you.”

Robin wipes her eyes where they begin to tear up, and Eddie uses the pause to look at Mike. He still has his arms crossed, but the smartass look on his face has dwindled a little.

“Mike, I know you don’t like Steve because of him and Nancy, but you can’t hold onto that grudge forever. What happened between them had nothing to do with you, so there's no need to be mad at him for it,” Eddie states. Mike isn’t looking at him now, and something tells Eddie that the kid just needs a reality check. Hopefully, this will work. “Steve has been protecting you from the beginning, even when you were more than hostile to him. You’ve at least got to give him credit for that.”

Eddie looks around, sees the morose expressions on the kids’ faces.

“Steve has picked you all up countless times from Hellfire, waiting the entire session out in the parking lot while wasting away in his car. He was there rain or shine, snow or sleet, and he never missed a day. Not once,” he states.

Eddie first found Steve’s presence after Hellfire to be confusing, an anomaly. He didn’t know that the Steve the kids talked about was the same Steve he had a debilitating crush on in high school, not until he saw him waiting outside after the first session the kids attended, leaning against his maroon BMW like a Calvin Klein model. A ball of anxiety formed in his stomach at the sight, because one thing about Steve Harrington was that he’s unpredictable. Eddie just didn’t know if it was good or bad yet.

“You know, usually when people graduate they tend to stay away from high school, not willingly come back,” Eddie teased.

His words seemed to spark some life into Steve, as he jolted from his relaxed position against the hood to stand firmly beside his car. Steve ran a hand through his hair, and looked Eddie up and down.

“You’d probably know more about that if you managed to actually graduate, Munson,” Steve quipped, but it wasn’t mean. He had a smile on his face, and the air around him was friendly. Some of the anxiety churning in Eddie’s gut eased at the sight.

“Besides, who says I’m here willingly?” Steve asked rhetorically, as Dustin made his appearance by running up to him and immediately began talking his ears off about the new campaign. Steve turned his full attention on the boy, nodding along to certain comments even when Eddie knew for sure Steve didn’t know what the hell Henderson was talking about. The other kids soon crowded around the former jock, all talking so incredibly fast that Eddie was surprised the sound barrier survived their cracking voices.

Eddie watched as Steve glanced at him over the kids’ heads, giving him a loose smile and a shrug as if saying, ‘what can ya do?’

Soon, all the gremlins piled into Steve’s fancy car, still talking and gesturing wildly with their hands. Eddie had a passing thought that he should get Steve some earplugs or something to at least help drown out the noise. He immediately shook his head at the thought and jumped in his old, beat up van, driving home to an empty trailer and trying desperately to forget Steve Harrington existed.

“He always waits until the excitement starts to wear off before he takes you all home, letting you talk to each other for nearly an hour after each session despite the fact he never has a clue what you’re talking about. He always listens to you guys, no matter what,” Eddie supplies. “Did you guys know he has mixtapes for each of you?”

At the question, they all look at him with varying degrees of confusion and an all-too-late realization. Eddie huffs, while Robin mutters something under her breath that sounds a lot like, ‘of course they didn’t.’

“There’s one for each of you, filled with songs you like or mentioned liking at some point despite some of them not being his own taste. He listens to you, all of you, and it fucking hurts to know you don’t see that,” he exposes, and part of him regrets letting a bit of his anger out. Though, the kids need to know this is serious, that you can’t go through life assuming the worst in people, so if being angry is what it takes then so be it.

The kids have various emotions on their faces, ashamed and regretful being the two most prominent. Dustin clears his throat and looks up at Eddie, flicks his eyes to Robin, and returns them to his lap.

“I… I didn’t realize he did so much for us,” Dustin quietly admits, and a small part of Eddie cheers at finally teaching the kid a thing or two about humility.

“We’ve been taking advantage of him for… for so long,” Lucas breathes out. Max nods morosely beside him, and Will raises a shaky hand to cover his mouth.

Mike rolls his eyes, still petulantly crossing his arms. “Why should we even care about him? All he’s probably doing is wallowing in his fancy house or something.”

He says it with a layer of snark so thick, all the kids turn to him with varying levels of bitchy glares. Eddie, however, can tell his attitude is a mask, a way for him to hide how he’s truly feeling to prevent from being too vulnerable. From being too open. Eddie knows a lot about that.

It started when Eddie was four and he scraped his knee on the harsh gravel outside his parents’ run-down home in Kentucky. Tears rolled down his chubby cheeks as he ran inside to tell his mom, who he knew would take care of him. She told him to play outside, and not come in until she told him so, but his knee really hurt and he was scared they would have to cut it off if it bled too much. At least, that’s what Charlie—a kid who lived two streets over—said they would do.

When he stepped over the threshold, something felt off. The house was quiet, more so than normal, and it set him on edge. The TV was filled with static that grated on his little ears, and he covered them with his hands as he made his way over to turn it off. He picked up the antenna off the floor, wondering how it got knocked off the top of the TV in the first place. He looked around the living room, finding it in a similar state of disarray. He followed the trail of broken things before him; the overturned coffee table, a spilled ashtray, a stray pillow, and the chair his dad always sat on, pushed far out of its normal place. He questioned who could have messed up his house like this, leaving a big mess behind.

He found his answer when he ventured into the kitchen, just a few short steps from the living room, and found his mother laying on the floor. She was on her stomach, arms splayed out as if she tried to catch her fall and head turned to look at the doorway where little Eddie stood. Her eyes were closed but she was still breathing, the floral pattern of her dress moving with each breath. Shards of ceramic were spread out around her, littered with droplets of dark blood that spilled from a cut on her forehead. It dripped down the side of her face, along the curve of her cheek and onto the floor where it formed a small puddle. Her skin was pale in the artificial light of the house, the soft yellows doing nothing to soften the tones of her ashen face.

“Mama!” He ran up to her, falling to his knees beside her still body. He shook her, trying to get her eyes to open, but all it rewarded him was a pained grunt. His eyes welled with tears again, this time for his Mama, but nothing he was doing was working.

A shadow fell over the floor and he looked up to find his father blocking the light from the gold-colored light fixture above the kitchen table. His face was stern and dirty looking, his stubble well past the point of a five o’clock shadow and leaning more towards a sleazy strip club owner. There was a smear of blood on his face from his hand, which he noticed was bruised around the knuckles. However, the sight of what was in his other hand made him freeze, entire body going stock still.

In his father’s left hand were the remnants of the broken plate on the floor, the jagged edges cutting into his skin where he gripped it tightly. Matching blood littered the edge, and a splatter of the dark liquid traveled up his hairy arm and disappeared into his rolled up flannel sleeve.

He looked up at the figure before him, and the tears spilled over against his will.

“What happened to Mama?” He asked. “Why won’t she wake up?”

“‘Cause she’s sorry, son,” his dad answered, throwing down the ceramic and causing it to shatter against the floor. Eddie flinched, and his father caught the motion. He hadn’t been able to quell it, hadn’t learned how to hide his fear yet. The man scowled at him, lip curling as he grabbed Eddie’s arm and hauled him off the floor in one solid motion.

“She’s weak, Edward,” he began. This close, Eddie could see the redness of his eyes, and the deep purple bags that hang underneath. “Just like all women. Do you wanna be weak, boy?”

Eddie shook his head, and his father gripped his arm tighter. “Answer me!”

“N-No sir,” Eddie muttered, voice small and weak in the face of his father.

“Then stop that fucking crying, don’t be a sissy. I ain’t raising a fucking faggot, Edward.”

With that, his dad dropped his arm and stumbled into his bedroom down the hall. As soon as his figure was gone, Eddie turned back to his mom, crouching next to her. Sometime when his dad was talking, her eyes had opened and her breathing grew stronger. Eddie felt like it was nothing short of a small miracle.

“Mama, are you okay?”

“‘M okay, baby,” she replied, pushing herself off the floor with a grunt. She sat up with Eddie’s help, and frowned when she saw the reddened mark on his arm. “I shouldn’t have let him do that to you.”

“You were hurt, Mama. ‘S not your fault,” Eddie reasoned, pulling his arm out of her grasp to wipe at some of the blood on her face. “You’re bleeding, too.”

“Oh,” she began, reaching up to touch the wound as if she hadn’t realized it was there. “It’s nothing, Eddie, just a little scratch. Mama will be okay, promise.”

She didn’t look okay, this close, with her sunken-in face and slowly forming black eye Eddie hadn’t been able to see before. But his Mama was always right. Always.

“Pinky promise?” Eddie asked, holding out his little pinky. His Mama smiled, and raised a shaky hand to lace her pinky with his.

“Pinky promise.”

A year later, he was riding in the car with his Mama, backpack at his feet. She was dressed nicer than he ever remembered her being; a baby blue, short-sleeved dress hugged her slender frame, paired with white heels, white bug-eyed sunglasses, and a sheer white scarf she had tied around her hair. Her suitcase was in the trunk, but his father was nowhere to be found.

“Mama?”

“Yes, baby?”

“Where’s Dad?” He asked. His Mama cleared her throat before she answered, voice shaky.

“He’s not coming with us, Eddie,” she said. “We’re going somewhere far away from him. Somewhere new.”

“Where?”

“Have a look for yourself, honey,” she said, pointing to the window. Eddie crawled up on his knees to look out, seeing a sign welcoming them to a place called Hawkins. He sat back down in his seat, looking back at his mother.

“What’s here?” He asked. His mother smiled.

“Your Uncle Wayne. He’s my brother,” she supplied. “We’re just going to pay him a little visit, okay?”

A few short minutes later, they were parked in front of a small trailer, a gruff looking man waiting for them on the newly-built porch. They got out of the car and Eddie grabbed his backpack, slinging it over his shoulders before his Mama led him up the steps.

“Eddie, this is Uncle Wayne,” his Mama informed. He looked up at her and she nudged his arm, urging him to say something.

“H-Hello, sir,” Eddie greeted, sticking out his small hand for the man to shake. Wayne huffed a laugh and crouched down, causing Eddie to take a step back on instinct, before he took his hand and shook it.

“Nice to meet ya, Eddie,” Wayne began. He let go of his hand but stayed crouched. “You can call me Wayne, or Uncle Wayne, or Uncle, or—hell, Todd for all I care. Just none of that ‘sir’ business, you got me?”

Eddie smiled and nodded. “Sorry, si—uh, Uncle Wayne.”

“That’s better, boy,” Wayne said, smiling as he clapped his shoulder softly. Wayne had kind eyes, blue and soft around the edges. They weren’t mean like his fathers. Instead, they looked exactly like his Mama’s—save for a few extra wrinkles around the edges. “Why don’t you go on inside while your Mama and I talk?”

Eddie did as he was told, walking in the trailer and taking in his surroundings. It was small, smaller than his house, but cozy. A couple mugs were hung up on the wall, paired with three trucker hats and a framed picture he was too far away to see. An old, floral patterned couch sat on the long wall of the living room, a coffee table in front littered with an opened can of Coke and a half-eaten bag of chips. The windows were open to let light in, making the space feel much bigger than it actually was.

He stepped into the kitchen, just a pace away from the living room, and took in the red-toned wooden cabinets and cream countertops stained with coffee rings yet to be wiped away. There was a hallway to his left where he found a single bedroom and a bathroom. The bathroom was small, just big enough for a stand-up shower, toilet, and sink. A single toothbrush sat in the cup on the side of the sink along with a bar of soap and an almost empty tube of toothpaste. On the other side of the sink though, Eddie noticed an unopened toothbrush. It was blue and had sparkles throughout its plastic. At the bottom, there was a small dog sticker and it made him smile a little.

His attention soon wandered to the bedroom, where he found a little twin-sized bed and tons of boxes. The bed was bare, save for a folded up quilt near the bottom with a pillow on top. The boxes were filled with various things; clothes, books, a cassette player, shoes, and tons of other small trinkets. He sat on the ground, pulling a box closer to look through it. There were thin books near the top labeled ‘Hawkins High’, and he flipped through it to find pictures upon pictures of people. He read the names, sounding them out to see if he could get them right. Some of them were weird, though, and he quickly put the book down to look at something else.

There was a box of cassette tapes to his left and Eddie scooted over to look through it. There were tons of names he didn’t recognize as he rifled through the plastic cases, though one stood out to him.

He picked up the Fleetwood Mac tape along with the cassette player from a box near the closet, plugging it into the wall and putting the tape in. He eyed the front door, seeing it still firmly closed. Just then, the tape clicked, causing him to jump, and he pressed play.

The familiar voice filled his ears, and he smiled. He and his Mama used to listen to Fleetwood Mac back home in the kitchen while they made supper, singing along with the tape or the radio to fill the house with music. The sound of it brought a smile to his face, and he closed his eyes as he listened to the words.

Engrossed in the music, he barely registered that the front door had both opened and closed until a soft hand was laid on his shoulder.

“Eddie, baby, I have to go,” his Mama said, and he jumped to his feet. He kinda felt bad about going through Uncle Wayne’s things without him being there, but if they were leaving then he didn’t think he would get too mad.

“Where are we going now, Mama?” Eddie wondered. His mother’s face turned pinched, and she lifted her glasses to look at him directly. She wore make-up, much more than she usually did, and as she crouched down Eddie could see it was barely disguising a bruise along the top of her right cheekbone.

“Eddie, only I’m leaving,” his Mama corrected. “You’re staying here with Wayne.”

At that, his whole world fell apart.

His mother, his Mama, was leaving him. It didn’t seem fair that he couldn’t go with her, that he couldn’t stay with his Mama like he wanted to. Wayne seemed nice from their brief interaction, but he didn’t know him. Not like he knew his Mama.

His stomach sank to his feet, and it felt as if someone poured ice-cold water over him. His eyes grew wide as tears welled, spilling over his cheeks.

“Why, Mama?” Eddie sobbed, wiping at his face because he wasn’t supposed to cry. “Why can’t I go with you?”

“You just can’t, Eddie, I’m sorry,” she stated. It felt hollow, her explanation. Like she was hiding something.

“But why?”

“Because you just can’t, Eddie!” She snapped, and Eddie’s breath caught. She sounded mad, but Eddie had never heard her get mad, not at him at least. He didn’t know what he did, only that she wouldn’t let him go with her.

She took a breath and cupped his cheek. “I’m sorry, baby.”

“But- But you can’t leave me!” Eddie wailed. “Mama, please!”

She opened her arms and he fell into them, clinging hard enough to deem separating impossible. She hugged him back just as tight, and Eddie saw evidence of tear tracks streaking through her caked-on foundation.

“I know, baby, I don’t want to leave you either,” his Mama soothed. “But Wayne is going to take care of you, okay?”

Eddie looked over her shoulder to see Wayne leaning against one of the kitchen countertops, smiling sadly at him. Eddie screwed his eyes shut and buried his face in his mothers neck.

“You’re gonna come back, right?” Eddie mumbled before he moved to look at her. “Pinky promise you’re gonna come back for me.”

His Mama cried and wiped at her cheeks, smearing the make-up and making the bruises appear fresh on her pale skin. She held out a pinky, and Eddie laced his with hers.

“I promise, Eddie,” she said, leaning forward to kiss his forehead before getting to her feet. Her and Wayne shared a hug on her way out, and Eddie caught Wayne wiping his eyes too. He and his uncle stood on the porch as his mom drove away, waving until her taillights disappeared around the curve of the road.

That was the last time he saw his mother.

Unfortunately, it was not the last he saw his father.

He stayed with Wayne for two months until his father found him. They had grown accustomed to each other in that time, Eddie having warmed up to another parental figure and Wayne having gotten the basics down for caring for another being. Wayne insisted he start school in the fall, and he was two weeks in when all hell broke loose.

His father rolled up to the trailer in a fancy-looking sports car Eddie knew his dad didn’t have the money for. He stumbled out on the gravel, banging on the door until Wayne pulled it open.

“The hell are you doin’ here?” Wayne asked, standing firm in the doorway.

“I’m here to get my son,” his father demanded. He pushed past him and stormed the place until he found Eddie in the only bedroom—Wayne having set up a cot in the living room.

Eddie hadn’t expected to see his father again, mostly because he didn’t think the man really cared for him. That was prominent when he snatched Eddie off the bed and hauled him out of his room.

“Dad?” Eddie questioned. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m taking you away from here,” his father responded, glaring at Wayne who stood blocking the doorway.

“You’re not takin’ him anywhere, Al,” Wayne countered. He crossed his arms, looking far more intimidating than Eddie ever imagined. “He’s happy here.”

“He’ll be even more happy with me,” his dad insisted. “With his real family.”

“Son of a bitch, Al, I am his real family!” Wayne yelled. “You ain’t got the means for takin’ care of that boy, and you know it.”

His father stood toe to toe with his uncle, glaring at him. He whispered something Eddie was too far away to hear, but it made Wayne deflate completely.

Eddie didn’t want to leave. He found that these past two months with Wayne were filled with more happy memories than he ever remembered having back home. Wayne was nice, a little rough around the edges but he was a big softy inside. He cared about people, that much was evident in the way he was constantly helping people out around the park. He was a good person, so leaving him felt like his Mama all over again.

“Come on, son,” his father demanded, grabbing his arm and dragging him out of the trailer. Eddie looked back at Wayne, eyes stinging. He waved, and Wayne waved back. He watched the trailer from the backseat until he couldn’t tell which one was theirs, only facing the front when his dad snapped at him.

They rode for hours, far past the Indiana state line, until they ended up in a strange city filled with tall buildings and blinding lights that made Eddie’s eyes sting. They went through the city, stopping on the outskirts in a run-down neighborhood even more decrepit than his old house in Kentucky.

He spent two years with his dad in a city he came to know at St. Louis, but it never felt like home. Not like the trailer with Wayne, or anywhere his mother was. He learned how to hotwire cars and how to drive like a bat out of hell whenever his dad told him to. He learned that he was too much to take care of; his father constantly complained about feeding him, keeping him clothed, taking care of him like a father should. He learned that showing emotions would only get you hurt, that he had to hide them to survive. He learned what all the different white powders did to someone, how they would affect your mind and your body. How they made his father violent, or remorseful, or depressed, but never happy.

His father was on a bad trip when a rush of red and blue lights invaded their windows, sirens blaring and making Eddie’s ears ring. Their front door was kicked open, the old wood splintering easily under the force of a steel-toed boot. Police flooded the house, and Eddie was grabbed and dragged out before he had time to comprehend everything that was happening.

He was sitting in the back of a cop car with the door open, body completely still as police went in and out of their house. He couldn’t let them know he was scared out of his mind, that he was afraid of what they would do to him. He knew the best way to get through it was to show nothing at all. To be indifferent. Emotionless. It was the only thing his father taught him that he deemed useful.

His father was dragged out of the house by two policemen, kicking and screaming at them but Eddie couldn’t hear what he was saying, ears having gone deaf to anything other than the ringing in his head. Next thing he knew, his father had broken free and punched one of the officers, causing several to tackle him to the ground and handcuff him before practically throwing him into a car and hauling him away. All Eddie could do was watch, knowing there was nothing he could do to help him.

“You got somewhere to go, kid?” One of the cops that took him out of the house asked, leaning against the open door and blocking the flashing lights. Eddie nodded, and the cop took him back to the station where he called Wayne.

“Eddie, son, where are you? Are you okay? If that bastard hurt you, I swear to god—“

“Wayne,” Eddie began, his voice rough from not using it. “Can you come get me?”

A pause. “Sure, kid, where are you?”

“St. Louis,” Eddie supplied. There was cursing on the other end, muffled so Eddie couldn’t tell what was said but he knew Wayne well enough. Even after only two months, the man had become more like a father to him than his own dad ever was.

“I’m coming right now to get ya, just hold on tight, okay? I’ll be there ‘fore the morning.”

True to his word, Wayne showed up right before dawn in his beat up truck. He stormed the station like a madman, looking for him. He was rumpled, like he threw on just enough clothes to be decent before booking it all the way here. If he knew Wayne, that’s probably exactly what he did.

“Eddie? Eds, where are ya?”

“Sir,” the lady at the front desk interrupted. “I’m going to have to ask you to lower your voice—“

“Wayne!” Eddie perked up from the desk chair he was sitting at in the station, running around desks before jumping straight in his uncle's arms. Wayne held onto him just as tight, and he could’ve sworn he heard a sniffle or two come from the man.

“I was so worried, Eds,” Wayne whispered. “I tried lookin’ for ya, I swear I did, just—If I’d known he’d taken ya to another state I wouldn’t’ve stopped ‘til I searched the whole damn country.”

“I know, Wayne,” Eddie muttered. “I missed you too.”

As much as Eddie tried, he couldn’t put up that mask of indifference around his uncle. He could try, sure, but it never worked longer than five seconds before he saw right through it and it crumbled at Eddie’s feet.

“Let’s get you home, son,” Wayne insisted and before he knew it, Eddie was asleep in the passenger seat of the truck as they took the highway home.

Since then, Eddie and Wayne had become inseparable. There were no secrets between them, no masks. They weren’t needed, not when Wayne was more than good to him. They weren’t wanted, either, since Wayne made sure to remind him that showing emotions wasn’t a bad thing. That it was good, healthy.

It wasn’t until much later in middle school when he learned that having a mask was necessary sometimes. Especially when people started calling him a freak and a weirdo because he wasn’t identical to everyone else. Because he lived in a trailer with someone that wasn’t his biological parent and wore hand-me-down clothes that were baggy on him since his growth spurt hadn’t hit yet. He donned the air of indifference he had left behind long ago, letting the names and rumors bounce off his skin like water off an umbrella.

That need intensified when high school hit and the rumor mill grew exponentially. Suddenly, he was bombarded with accusations of Satanism, prison time, drug dealing—though that one was true—pet raccoons, and, at one point, an army of undead babies he sucked the life out of that he could command at will. Really, the shit people came up with was astounding, and Eddie learned to shove it all away. None of it was true—save for a couple things he would never, in a million years, tell another soul at Hawkins High—so he made sure to act like it was true. Let people believe what they want to believe. In the meantime, Eddie used it to his advantage to prevent anyone from getting too close. From looking past the barrier he put up between himself and everyone else.

So yeah, Eddie knows a little bit about where Mike’s coming from.

“Actually…” Robin starts. “Steve’s not doing so great—“

“What?!” Dustin squawks out, cutting Robin off and all but jumping up from his seated position. “Why the hell did you not start this whole damn thing with that?!”

“We were getting there, Henderson!” Eddie clarifies. “Now sit your ass down.”

Dustin—for once—does as he’s told. Eddie looks to Robin and gives her a nod, letting her have the floor.

“Steve’s got it in his head that he’s the only one allowed to sacrifice himself for us, that he’s only needed or wanted when he can put himself in the line of fire. So, like the caring dumbass he is, he’s been wandering around Hawkins at night because he’s worried that something will happen.”

“But I closed all of the gates,” El starts, head cocked and eyebrows scrunched like a confused puppy. “We are in no more danger.”

“I think part of him knows that, Supergirl,” Eddie explains. “But he needs to know for certain, to make sure you guys are absolutely safe.”

She nods, and sadness finds its way to her eyes. Eddie feels a pang of sympathy for her, knowing that learning how to live all over again is never easy.

“He’s not been sleeping much,” Robin continues. “It’s like he’s barely there anymore. Like he’s just… a shell.

“He thinks you all hate him. He thinks he deserves this for all the shit he did in the past, even though we all know he’s more than made up for it by becoming a decent fucking human being,” she spits out. There’s anger in her eyes now as she glares at a stain on the carpet, unwilling to look at the kids but needing to get her point across. “He broke down in my arms because this is the fifth fucking time the people he’s loved has left him and I think… I think this time broke him.”

She raises her head and looks over the kids, tears balanced on her lower eyelashes and threatening to spill over.

“You’re his family, the family he got to choose, and you still… you left. Just like everyone else has.”

The room fills with silence as the words sink in.

“How… How do we fix it?” Will asks, his quiet voice now loud. Eddie sighs and rakes a hand through his hair—a motion that keeps reminding him of Steve—before shoving his hands in his pockets.

“I know part of it is my fault, I admit that. I shouldn’t have just stopped talking to him all of the sudden, I should’ve… well, there’s a lot of things I should have done but I didn’t, so I plan on fixing that,” Eddie admits. He looks around the room, makes as much eye contact as he can to drive his point home. “You should too. A simple ‘I’m sorry’ isn’t going to cut it, not this time. Not for this.”

The kids all nod, and Eddie gestures to the door to dismiss them. They all look like kicked puppies with slouching posture and ducked heads, walking out of the trailer with their tails between their legs. Dustin and Mike are the first to hop on their bikes, ready to either apologize and get it over with or get as far away from his and Robin’s disappointed glares as possible. Before they can push off, Eddie calls out to them.

“Hey! Give it a couple days,” Eddie orders. “Steve… He’s going to need some time. Go to him when he’s ready, okay?”

He’s met with various nods and ‘will do’s as some of them take off, their knobbly knees hitting the handlebars of their too-small bikes. Then, he notices a particular brunette has yet to leave, her bike with little white training wheels still standing in the grass. Her big brown eyes lock with his and, even though there's a porch between them, he can feel the seriousness in her gaze.

“I miss him. He was always very nice to me,” El confesses. “He always gave me piggyback rides.”

Her face falls a little. “I did not know we were being mean to him.”

Eddie finds himself softening a little at her words.

“I know, Supergirl,” he winks at her. “That’s why you’re my favorite.” 

She giggles in response and hops on her bike, meeting up with Max who stopped to wait for her a few yards away. 

Eddie closes the door, falling against it with a thud. He groans, the sound bouncing off the thin door and out in the empty trailer. He turns to go to his room, preferably to wallow, before nearly jumping clean out of his skin. 

Well, he thought the trailer was empty, except there now stands one Robin Buckley who has resumed her unimpressed, hands-on-her-hips, "you're a fucking dumbass" position from earlier. 

"Jesus H. Christ!" He exclaims. A hand comes up to grab at his heart which is actively trying to beat out of his chest as his lungs grapple for air. "Birdie, I forgot you were there."

"Yeah," she deadpans. "Clearly." 

Eddie straightens up, and quirks an eyebrow at her rather over dramatically. Robin rolls her eyes.

"Well?"

"It's a deep subject," Eddie sarcastically responds. Robin, unfortunately, doesn't find that funny. "'Well' what?"

"Go apologize!" She yells. 

“Okay, okay, geez!”

Eddie pats himself down, looking for the keys to his van before Robin clears her throat. He looks over at her to see an unamused quirk of her eyebrow before she points to the hook by the door where his keys hang. 

“Thanks, Buck!” he exclaims, pressing his hands together in prayer to the saint she is. Grabbing them, he throws the door open and clears the steps in one jump, stumbling a bit on the landing but really, he’s quite proud of this rare athletic appearance. 

Jumping in his van, he slams a random tape in the deck, grinning a little at the song that plays first. Despite his obvious avoidance of the second track, the Master of Puppets album still holds a very special place in his heart. So it's really not a surprise that the song that just so happens to play first reminds him of the very man he’s going to see, sacrificial tendencies and all. 

He slams on the gas, tires squealing as he peels out of Forest Hills trailer park faster than he ever has before. 

He’s not running away this time; not running from a small cheerleader’s body trapped on his ceiling, not running from angry town hicks with their fiery pitchforks, and not running from a creepy interdimensional demon who enjoys sucking the life out of depressed teenagers. 

No, this time, he’s running to something. Running to Steve. 

He just hopes Steve will let him.

———

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[carpenoctem-if]

Carpe Noctem - Intro Post

DEMO - tba

You are a nobody. A supposedly ordinary human in a world full of powerful beings. Your life is all in all pretty average if not bordering on mind-numbing, like watching paint dry... That is until you were kidnapped and tossed into one especially small carriage to be delivered somewhere only the ancients knew of.

From now on nothing will ever be the same and you need to adapt to the ever-changing outside world as fast as possible. All the while trying to decipher your past and with that your part in an every-growing political conflict that borders to develop into an all out war the world has yet to see.

General content warnings: Bigotry & prejudice, horror elements, interspecies awkwardness, explicit language, depictions of violence, injuries, blood and death, explicit sexual content (if selected), flashbacks of a dark past to unveil, sprinkled with some homophobia here and there & general an unfair treatment of people with disabilities.

FEATURES

-> customizable MC (name, pronouns, appearance, identity)

-> semi-set personality due to evolve (MCs reclusive upbringing forces you to start as someone that's not entirely comfortable with other people and as such you'll be able to choose coping mechanisms your MC will use to compensate such a deficit)

-> 5 characters to romance (3 in book 1, not sure if the other two will follow, they'll probably be fully romanceable in book 2)

-> POVs of the ROs included

-> an open-minded author that is inclined to change some NPCs to fully fledged ROs depending on the general opinion/wishes of readers

-> an emotional roller coaster, all in all nothing for ppl that want a light-hearted theme

-> later on you'll be able to choose part of your race (vampyres, merpeople, demons, shapeshifters, phoenixes -and many more) & with that you can determine and further develop your special skillset. Your heritage will reward you with quite different flavour texts for every possible race there is, so yes. It will matter greatly what you chose. And each of the available races will have disadvantages that could prove quite...fatal in certain situations.

romanceable characters:

the master [Alois|Alice|Alix] (m|f|n) 24 winters

An aloof demeanor at the first glance, A has a cold, strangely shrouded gaze. They're reclusive as fuck, so there isn't much the general population knows about them. Oh. And A is your esteemed master -as if any of you actually want this dynamic... A seems to hate you and your position even more, especially the hidden context it supplies to everyone they meet...

A has almond-shaped silver eyes that always seem distant and unfocused. They have defined cheek bones with mostly soft facial features and quite long, silver hair that is often tied to a simple ponytail. A wears fine dark clothing without other prominent features to despict their wealth.

Content warnings for A's route: denial of feelings aka one of the slowest burns imaginable, domestic violence, implied/referenced rape/non-con, anxiety attacks, self-harm, angst & hurt/comfort

the protector [Leto] (m|f|n) too many to count

Leto is a raven-like creature most would describe as monstrous-looking. They are rarely seen and the few moments they are, death is certain. For many commoners it's enough to see one of Leto's black feathers to warrant a swift escape.

Their past eludes them and you have to wonder - why does some antics of them seem kinda...familiar?

Content warnings for Leto's route: survivor-guilt, body dysphoria, angst, captivity & enslavement, torture, ptsd

the assassin [Zane|Zoey] (m|f) 28 winters

Z is everything their mother wanted them to be. Her own personal weapon. One she is now inclined to use for her vendetta against you.

They have dark brown hair with intelligent hazel green eyes that seem to observe their surroundings constantly. Z was raised with stories about you, stories you know nothing about. How can it be that they seem to know more of you and your family than you yourself?

Should it worry you that they sound extremely resolute in stating their sole purpose is to rid the world of your existance?

Content warnings for Z's route: enemies to frenemies to lovers, eating disorder, alcohol-addiction, a tendency of morbid jealousy, past emotional abuse & manipulation

??? [redacted]

??? [also redacted]

more info tba

Small note of the author:

Everything is slow burn in this - even the character customization, cause I want to add those moments seamlessly into the story.

I tend to take my time. You can expect me to heavily focus on the characters and their feelings, with a slight disregard to describing the environment and such. I work with minimalistic efforts to still give a sense of what I imagine everything to be but with the intention to leave fine details to the reader's own imagination.

I'll try to be considerate of everyone's preferences, especially in the more kinky parts of the story. There'll be versions for more assertive characters as well as more passive one's. Though I should add that the ROs all have their own set of bias that they prefer. However there will be growth throughout the story, including that.

The gravity of your choices will intensify throughout book 1, especially as you get to know the Circle and the Court and every other political hive of intrigue.

And yes. You can die. The ROs can die. Almost everyone will be able to at some point, I guess. Though I don't like the idea of writing a total distopia, don't expect me to change my mind regarding that one that easily.

More infos will be added over time. I'll post lore snippets of my sketchbook soon, like the worldmap, the general outlines of the Circle & the Court, the different races and such.

Asks are welcomed.

[steddieunderdogfics]

The Wreckage Of You I No Longer Reside In by Atalia_Gold

@ataliagold

Rating: Mature

55,708 words, 21/21 chapters

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Tags: Alternate Universe - No Upside Down (Stranger Things), Abusive Relationships, Domestic Violence, Eventual Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Single Parent Steve Harrington, Music Teacher Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Steve Harrington Has PTSD, Steve Harrington Has Head Trauma, Eventual Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Billy Hargrove Being an Asshole, Steve Harrington is Dustin Henderson's Parent, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Slow Burn, Billy Hargrove is a Terrible Person, Steve Harrington Has Migraines, Vomiting, Dyslexic Steve Harrington, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con

Summary:

“Oh, sorry, we close earlier on Mondays, if you come back -” “Sign says you close at eight.” Steve’s stomach plummeted and he froze, clenching the cloth in his hand. It couldn’t be. Not here, it had been years, how did he find him? Slowly, Steve turned around, walking to the other side of the table as he did, unconsciously putting it between himself and the customer. Billy Hargrove looked exaggeratedly at his watch. “Looks like it's 7.53 to me, Steve.” He grinned at Steve, but it didn’t reach his eyes. ***** Steve had escaped an abusive relationship with Billy three years ago, fleeing in the middle of the night with his young son, Dustin. Working odd jobs and struggling to get by, Steve catches the eye of music teacher Eddie Munson. But when Steve's dark past crashes back into his life again, will Steve be able to find a reason to stop running?

Thanks for the rec! This recommendation is apart of our Writer's Wednesday! All of the recs today are written by @ataliagold. Want to nominate an author? Fill out this form!

You can submit fic recs to our asks or the submission box!

[wangxianficfinder]

In the mood for...

Apr 19th

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1. Hi, I'm looking for fics where WWX is drunk/high and LZ noncons him @thehappyyellow

the sweetest dream would never do by honeyandviscera (E, 2k, WangXian, Modern AU, Dark LWJ, Somnophilia, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Body Worship, Breaking and Entering, Drugged Sex, Stalking, Come Eating, Unreliable Narrator, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat)

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2. Hey, hope you guys are well. For itmf, any opwwx! recs? Preferably completed please. Thank you for your time!! @tinyfoxpeach

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3. Helloooo Just came here jajsjs I'm desperate, lately I was thinking about some caveman! Or prehistoric ice age wangxian but I could not find something like that :( any rec? (Tysm for this page)

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4. more fics like lwj's big dick agenda? or just fics lwj being possessive. thanksss!

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5. Love your blog!!!!thank you for the hardwork!

Would love some disabled/chronic health issues wei wuxian pretty please 💖💖

🔒 the thread may stretch or tangle but it will never break by RoseThorne (E, 91k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Soulmates, Self-Esteem Issues, Fix-It, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, PTSD, Handfasting, Panic Attacks, Getting Together, First Time, Aftercare, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, /Referenced Torture, Scars, Chronic Pain, Golden Core Reveal, First Time, Switching, sex-related injury, LWJ Stays at the Burial Mounds, LSZ is a Wèi, Good Sibling JC, Dissociation, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Disability, Scheming NHS, Disabled Character)

🔒 a star called sun by thelastdboy (E, 120k, wangxian, SL/XXC, JC & JYL & WWX, JYL & LWJ, WWX & WN & WQ, JYL/JZX, Canon Divergence after Xuanwu Cave, Fall of Lotus Pier, But worse!, Power Imbalance, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Not Everyone Dies AU, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Canon-Typical Violence, Sunshot Campaign, Miscommunication, Heavy Angst with a Happy Ending, Slow Burn, Major Character Injury, Loss of Limbs, Chronic Illness, Seizures, WWX’s Three Months in the Burial Mounds, Wēn Remnants Live, Wēn Remnants Deserve Better, WWX Creates a Sect | Yílíng Wèi Sect, Additional Warnings In Author’s Note, Hurt/Comfort, Selectively Mute LWJ, Service Animals, Crows)

The Darkness Before Dawn by PsycheStellata707 (M, 113k, wangxian, Angst with a Happy Ending, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence, BAMF WWX, Attempt at Humor, PTSD, Oblivious WWX, WWX-centric, Blind WWX, Sentient Burial Mounds, Everyone Lives AU, Except Those Who Deserves to Die, Oblivious Pining, Not Canon Compliant, WIP)

🧡 the river brought you here by chilianxianzi (Not Rated, 11k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, POV Outsider, Amnesia, Past abuse, Strangulation, Found Family)

please don’t let me be misunderstood by sysrae (T, 3k, WangXian, Modern AU, College/University, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, getting hit by cars, Past Child Abuse)

some foolish thing I've done by sysrae (M, 4k, wangxian, Modern, College/University, partial hearing loss, Past Child Abuse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, the real OTP is everyone x therapy)

🔒 how to make your dad fall in love with your high school teacher in five steps; the complete and bulletproof guide by ravenditefairylights (T, 90k, wangxian, modern, coffee shop au, nonbinary LSZ, hurt/comfort, trauma, past abuse, past domestic violence, healing, hurt WWX, found family, hospitalization, therapy, single parent WWX, pining, teacher LWJ, unreliable narrator, chronic pain, queer platonic relationship, genderfluid WWX, autistic LWJ, fluff & angst)

🔒 some things go forward by everythingispoetry (T, 73k, WangXian, Modern AU, Hospitals, Teenage Drama, Slow Burn, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Happy Ending)

Cure by Yukirin_Snow (M, 100k, WangXian, XiCheng, XuanLi, Modern AU, Hurt/Comfort, Sick Character, Cancer, Medical Procedures, Medical Jargon, Romance, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Angst, Love at First Sight, possible trigger warnings) Wwx has cancer, happy ending. It's a really good fic. I love it.

Rest is Resolution series by MarbleGlove (T, 32k, JC & WWX, JYL/JZX, JZX & JGS, LQR & LWJ, wangxian, Fix-It, Post-Sunshot Campaign, this might be crack, Niè Cultivation, BAMF NHS, BAMF JYL, Canon Divergence, Madam Lan Backstory, Getting Together), but especially the first one, Elder, an Aesthetic It's WWX without his golden core leaning into needing assistance

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6. Hiii! For the next itmf, I’m wondering if anyone has read fics inspired on creative reality shows? I’d love to read about wangxian having to team up for something like baking impossible or blown away. I hope y’all are having a great day, thanks!

❤️ Knight Hunt! Phoenix Mountain by travelingneuritis (E, 51k, wangxian, modern, dating show, Modern Cultivation, but in the silliest way possible, Reality TV, the juniors are interns, Smut, Illustrations, low-stakes pining)

Wangxian Strictly AU Series by Selenay (E, 135k, WangXian, Modern: No Powers, Dance, Strictly Come Dancing Fusion, Ballroom Dancing, Dancer!WWX, Violinist LWJ, Pining While Dancing, Oblivious WWX, Gratuitous Costume Descriptions, Gratuitous dancing descriptions, Slow Burn, Ballroom dancing, Established Relationship, Romantic Fluff, [Podfic] Falling to the Rhythm by semperfiona_podfic (semperfiona))

Previously, on LEGO Masters by trippednfell (M, 55k, wangxian, Reality TV Show Contestants/Judges, Modern, Mutual Pining, Forced to compete together, strangers to reality show contestants to lovers, there's only one bed, Platonic Cuddling, Autistic LWJ, WWX Has ADHD, Grief/Mourning, Wangxian miss their moms, so much pining, More Pining than LEGO in this LEGO fic, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, POV Alternating, Lego Masters AU, Not YZY friendly, Dysfunctional Jiang family dynamics)

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7. Do you by any chance know if there's any fic about the kid playing hanguang-jun role and the kid playing to be the yiling patriarch of that bunch of kids playing to be cultivators? As they have no names idk where to start looking. I'm in the mood for something wholesome 😌 Thanks in advance!

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8. Itm A) miscarriage fics where it causes problems in wx marriage.

B) girl dad wwx

C) cat dad wwx

Please find all of them in >20k or atleast 10 k. Please. Thankyou.

Rise of the Divine Oracle by BlakSalt (T, 291k, WangXian, Boy Love, Hurt/Comfort, Romance)

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9. hi! :3 itmf junior-central fics :) can be any combination of the quartet. ship fics are fine but no sizhui/jin ling pls bc they are cousins in my heart. thanks!! @monstergreentea

🔒 blue flies buzzing by RoseThorne (T, 2k, JL & LJY & OYZZ & LSZ, JC & WWX, wangxian, LSZ & WWX, LSZ & LWJ, LSZ & LXC, Gossip, Rumors, Mentioned Wen Remnants, Sect Leader Yao Bashing, JC & WWX Reconciliation, NHS is a Little Shit, POV LJY, POV Third Person, Threats, Justice, Cultivation Discussion Conferences, LWJ is LSZ’s Parent, LJY Being LJY, Podfic Welcome)

🔒 hills and rivers are waiting by LtLJ (T, 15k, wangxian, Post-Canon, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Domestic Fluff, Family Feels, Canon-Typical Violence, the family that hunts demons together stays together, and doesn't murder each other, Case Fic, BAMF WWX, Mojo's post)

💖A Dramatic Reading by pupeez4eva (Not rated, 5k, wangxian, post-canon, humor, public confessions, curses, getting together)

❤️ Tragedy is Not the End by Hobbsy3 (T, 358k, wangxian, Time Travel, Torture, Hurt/Comfort, Golden Core Reveal, Canon Divergence from Qiongqi Pass, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Yunmeng sibling bonding, good dad wwx, good dad lwj, JZX Lives, JYL Lives, Junior Quartet Dynamics)

Would You Come Home? by s6115 (Not rated, 46k, WangXian, Junior Quartet Centric, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Junior Quartet Dynamics) Might work, though it's a little more Sizhui centric, but it's a very lovely showing of their dynamic in a low stakes setting

❤️ grow by cafecliche (T, 14k, WangXian, Age Regression/De-Aging, Character Study, Post-Canon) link in #12

You Bring the Colour by fuddy_duddy (rainier_day) (G, 12k, wangxian, art school, art restoration)

🔒 Yearning by Sanguis (T, 9k, WangXian, LingYi, Modern AU, Professors, Established Relationship, Married Couple, Bunnies, Pre-Relationship Secrets)

climbing up that coastal shelf by Sour_Idealist (T, 15k, JC & JL & WWX, JC & JL, JC & WWX, JL & LSZ, JL & WWX, Post-Canon, Mutually Unrequited Forgiveness, JC & WWX Reconciliation, Family History, Generational Trauma, Discussion of Canonical Abuse, Awkward Attempts at Communication, mentions of past JC/WQ, Fairy is a good dog)

history by tongzhi (T, 16k, LSZ & WN, JC & LSZ, LSZ & WWX, LSZ & LWJ, LSZ & Wen Remnants, LSZ & Juniors, LSZ & MM, Post-Canon, Angst, Grief/Mourning, Hopeful Ending, LSZ gets angry, LSZ and JL refuse to take their family's trauma forward, jiujiu is the best, Character Study, MM abolitionist queen)

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10. itmf any pregxian fics! thank you for your hard work admins :)

Reluctant partner by sacrificial_fawn (G, 31k, wangxian, LXC/JGY, Modern, Mpreg, Family Reunions, bonding over your shared trauma, Reluctant Bonding, Married Life, Supportive LQR, Past Miscarriage, LXC's excessive use of kaomojis, Male Lactation, non-graphic birth, LQR tries to be a good uncle but he doesn’t know how to, Intersex WWX, JGY can hold the baby as a treat, LWJ can have words and verbs as a treat, Slight OOC) very sweet imo, it has a bit of Meng Yao and Wei Wuxian friendship, it's also a teene tiny bit sad

All I Want by Selenay (E, 47k, wangxian, Modern, Mpreg, Post Holiday Romance, Consequences, Reunions, Idiots in Love, wangxian attempt to be sensible adults about it, they are very bad at it, Teacher WWX, Rating earned in later chapters, Handwavey Biology)

Until The End by abCEE (M, 365k, wangxian, canon divergence, communication, established relationship, sunshot campaign, mpreg, canon typical violence, WWX has new golden core, canonical character death, happy ending, fix-it of sorts) He's not pregnant for a large portion of the fic, but it's not an insignificant amount of time.

Impermanence, Transience, Permanence by Best Bepsy (BepsyGray) (E, 39k, wangxian, canon divergence, unplanned pregnancy, mpreg, gore, sunshot campaign, assumed miscarriage, medical procedures, childbirth, golden core reveal) I'd be surprised if you haven't already read this one, but it's one of the few ones of the genre that I like.

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11. Hi!! For itmf, is there any fic where Lan zhan and wei ying personality swapped? It only temporary but the chaos cannot be contained @chibiizzy

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12. hey admins, any fic recs on wei ying getting injured or sick and lan zhan takes care of him or just anyone who gets very worried about him?? thanks <3

🔒🧡 rain falls and soaks into the earth series by RoseThorne (T, 57k, WangXian, WIP, Near Death Experience, Attempt Drowning, Madam Yu Bashing, Recovery, No war AU)

Rotten Work by ShanaStoryteller (Not rated, 63k, wangxian, JL & WWX, post-canon, Protective WWX, Protective JL, POV JL, JC & WWX Reconciliation, eventually, Reluctant Matchmaker JL, this kid is doing his best, Pre-JL/LJY if you squint)

How to Treat Your Injured Yiling Laozu by merakily (T, 3k, wangxian, Chronic Pain, Whump, Love Confessions, Literal Sleeping Together, Burial Mounds, Golden Core Reveal, LWJ has a lot of feelings about WWX being in pain, Hurt WWX)

hunters seeking solid ground by Attila (E, 23k, wangxian, Canon Compliant, discussion of canon character death, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, bed sharing, Getting Together, Yearning, Literal Sleeping Together, Really Excessive Amounts of Hurt/Comfort)

something left to save by androids_fighting93 (E, 57k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, No Bloodbath of Nightless City, JYL Lives, Not Everyone Dies AU, Hurt/Comfort, single dad wwx, Sick Character, Golden Core Reveal, the lightest d/s dynamic if you squint, handjobs, Anal Sex, Canon-Typical Dynamics)

Heart of hearts series by apathyinreverie (M, 40k, wangxian, WIP, Dark LWJ-ish, Not Cultivation World Friendly, Amnesia, WWX gets to be Not Okay after the BM, Recovery, Possessive LWJ, Possessive WWX, Protective LWJ, not nearly as dark as the tags make it sound, Golden Core Reveal, Hurt WWX, Caring, WWX Goes to Gusu, ridiculously self-indulgent, Canon Divergence, Amnesia, some definite manipulation, but not everything is as it seems, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, Domestic WangXian, Fluff, WWX happily atticwifing away, Sunshot Campaign, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ)

❤️ grow by cafecliche (T, 14k, WangXian, Age Regression/De-Aging, Character Study, Post-Canon)

What's Wrong With Him? by GrapefruitSketches (G, 2k, JYL & WWX, JYL & LWJ, JC & WWX & JYL, wangxian, Hurt/Comfort, Hurt WWX, Pining LWJ, POV JYL, Canon Compliant, Oblivious WWX, Unconscious WWX, Concerned JYL, JYL Knows Everything)

let the yoke fall from our shoulders by occultings (microcomets) (G, LSZ & LWJ, LSZ & WWX, wangxian, LWJ & LSZ & WWX, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Character Study, Mentions of Canonical Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Gusu Lan Juniors Dynamics, let capricorns cathart agenda, Happy Ending, Family Feels, Established Relationship)

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13. Itmf serious fics. Where wwx has personality like he has in 12 moons n a fortnight, he's so mature there uk. Ik that fic has funny and crack moments too, but it's mostly feels and serenity there, more fics where wwx is like that please?

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14. Hello. Thank you for all the hardwork.

For the next itmf I'm looking for fics whe WWX is not the only one to be resurrected.

Or where he is resurrected in other people bodies (I have seen the fic comp here ).

Thank you once again @anime-trash-parody

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15. itmf,,, a fic where wwx atracts the supernatural, the divine, the eerie,, like he has a connection with the burial mounds or the dead in general, they like him, they are atracted to him; spirits and deities like huli jins or like the fliwer maiden are also atracted to him or interact with him,,, does what im saying even make sense?

Ad Oblivione by Baph, HikariNoHimeWriter (M, 70k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, POV Multiple, Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Identity Reveal, Golden Core Reveal, Cultivation World Critical, Not JC Friendly, Abusive YZY, Angst with a Happy Ending)

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16. itmf any fics where they actually end up meeting baoshan sanren when going to or while doing the core transfer

Can't Tell Me Nothin by natacup82 (T, 35k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, Everybody Lives, Family Feels, Communication, BAMF Women) They don’t meet during the transfer so it might not quite be what u have in mind but she does do something about it.

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17. Would love some genius modern wei wuxian extra if the juniors are involved thank you 💖💖💖💖💖

💖 One Can Keep A Secret (If He Does Not Know It’s There)by H_Belle (T, 5k, wangxian, NHS & WWX, modern w/ cultivation, inventor WWX, secret identity, identity reveal, YLLZ WWX, rogue cultivator WWX, pining LWJ, WWX pov)

living in my memory/living in my mouth by tardigradeschool (T, 32k, wangxian, modern w/ magic, reincarnation, college/university au, hurt/comfort, sharing a bed, light angst, nightmares, epistolary, pining, friends to lovers)

🔒 care by everbrighter (T, 35k, LSZ & WWX, wangxian, modern w/ magic, resurrection, family bonding, getting to know each other, past character death, pining)

🔒 The Second Jade of Lan's late but incendiary sexual awakening by KizuKatana (E, 41k, wangxian, First Time, LWJ's Horny Grip,LWJ does not know what hit him, and yet somehow he still realizes it before WWX, canon wangxian dynamics, college AU, LWJ starts off annoyed at WWXBut quickly discovers both his competency kink and a caretaking kink, Genius WWX)

i really want to know (who are you) by Stratisphyre (M, 19k, wangxian, LQR & WWX, Modern with Magic, Golden Core Reveal, Single Dad WWX, Reasonable Authority Figure LQR, Allusions to violence and murder, Hospitalization)

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If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

[lazybutsmexy]

Masterlist

Writing blog for One Piece and Haikyuu: x

Archive of Our Own: x

Rules: x

All x reader writings are gender neutral unless specified.

If you ever make art inspired on my works, @ me so I can see it and reblog it!! 🫶♥️

Edit 04/26: if you have trouble accessing any links, you should be able to find each individual work by searching for the name in the search bar in my blog. Sorry for the inconvenience!

Call of duty

König (my beloved)

Smoke break - x reader | light angst, fluff, comfort, protective König | you are a bartender and your stalker creeps you out. König catches on and fixes the problem.

A glimpse - x reader | light angst, fluff, comfort, injured reader, a bit of pining on both sides | you get injured in a mission, and König feels he could've done better.

The sound of your voice - x reader | light angst, fluff, comfort | Konig feels self-conscious when telling you about his current obsession, but his voice is like a balm to your tired mind.

Jealous König drabble - x reader

König comforts you - x reader

Cheater - x reader (platonic)

Alejandro Vargas

Choices have consequences - x reader | light angst, culinary crimes, mention of food insecurity | Alejandro made a passing comment about your food that you didn't like one bit, so you humble him.

"V" - x reader | pure tooth rotting fluff, pillow talk, marriage talk, you're both so smitten ugh | Alejandro and you discuss the idea of getting a matching tattoo instead of rings.

Are you looking for a wife? - fem!reader | fluff, injured reader, medical drug use, stoner talk | Whenever you get ketamine as pain relief, you lose all thought-to-speech filter.

Heart-Stopping - fem!reader | tiny angst, fluff, medical innacuracies. mention of violence/injuries, pregnancy announcement, crack-ish | Only Alejandro can kill Alejandro. You may easily give him a heart attack, though.

Infused Masterlist - fem!reader | graphic depictions of violence, drug use, minor character death(s), angst, fluff, hurt/comfort | A love story told through mate.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

No better than a Victorian man - x reader | suggestive, Simon being a tease | You like to look at your lieutenant, especially when there's barely anything to look at

A bedtime story - GN!reader | platonic | you have no choice but to keep LT's secret for a relaxed, soothing sleep to you grave.

Ghost x chubby!reader headcanons - x m!reader

Tea - GN!reader | angst, hurt no comfort, character deaths | Last minute confessions.

Ghost x reader x Soap

Bird Hunting - x fem!reader | angst, hurt, kidnapping, drugging, sexual harassment, violence (warnings will update as series progresses)

Rotten Apple - x fem!reader | hurt/comfort, referenced past child neglect, abusive/narcissistic parents | Set after the events in BH | Sweetened apples turn sour when rotten apples are around.

Emotional Support Bird - x fem!reader | fluff, domestic, Soap and Ghost share a braincell | Canary rambles about a ln emotional support dog she saw at the market. Ghost and Soap have an idea.

Emotional Support Bird Pt.2 - x fem!reader | fluff, hurt/comfort, Ghost x Canary centric - Soap is only mentioned here | Ghost has a nightmare, and Canary an idea.

Emotionally Supported Bird (Pt. 3)- x fem!reader | fluff, hurt/comfort | Canary knows exactly where to seek solace in the middle of the night.

Ghost x Soap x K9handler!reader

The Mission - x K9 handler!reader | fluff, K9 Dolly's POV mostly | K9 Dolly is sent on her first solo mission.

John Price

Salt and pepper - x gn!reader | fluff | The realization of age hung heavily on his shoulders. Luckily for him, you're more than ready to share it with him.

141 x reader

Lucy - x fem!reader (platonic) | crack | an interesting story behind the origin of Y/n's callsign.

Affectionate reader - x GN!reader (platonic) | fluff | headcanons and a little drabble on the Task Force receiving and enjoying your affection.

Affectionate reader Pt. 2 - x GN!reader (platonic) | angst | The team loses it's spark (you)

Affectionate reader Pt. 3 - x GN!reader (platonic) | hurt/comfort | it's the team's turn to show you affection

Incorrect Quotes

Father Figure

Gummy worms

Dilf

Farmers' market

(Un)forgettable

Relatable

Brothers

Mystery

Couples' advice

Valentine's Day blurbs

WIPS ← check here for your request!