#also sorry this is a bit rougher than usual i was way too exhausted

[deadblog-dni]

day 3; lips

lipstick lesbian babey

prompt list can be found here by @julykings 

[darktypeimagines]

My god man whenever you get the time can you feed the poor? I’m desperately deprived of Avery content and it deeply wounds me :,)

Light NSFW? Avery’s first time with his s/o?

Also gl w/ college lmao; it really do be a bitch lol

Ahhhh sorry you’ve been starving so long. College is INDEED rough, especially graduate school! If you’re still around, I hope you enjoy.

I really do love this dude, wish he was more than just a DLC character... Put under the cut for light content, vanilla flavored (imo). I tried to keep it vague since you did not give much information on your character.

The summer, midday sun beamed down on you, but luckily, it was a rather mild day. A light breeze pulled at your hair. You were in downtown Wyndon, sight seeing with your partner, Avery. You two had been dating for a while now, easing into the comfort of a steady relationship. And while Avery was the one who asked you out, you were the one who usually initiated things, like your first kiss. You weren’t 100% sure, but you felt a good amount of shyness beneath his usual overly confident demeanor.

But, that wasn’t always the case. Today, you rushed up to one of the shops, peering through the glass at something that caught your eye. As you were absorbed in trying to decide whether or not to turn your window shopping into actual shopping, you felt the familiar yet odd sensation of something dragging lightly across your shirt, from your right shoulder to your neck. That feather-light touch could have been mistaken for a caress, but you knew better: No one was there. You shot a glance at Avery, catching him looking in the exact opposite direction, although you could spot a small smirk growing.

You decided it was your turn to surprise him. Doing a sharp 180°, you marched right over to him, grabbed his arm and interlocked it with yours, and guided him to your shared hotel room you were currently booked at.

“Y/N, what exactly are you doing- wait, Y/N-!” He protested. This continued for about a minute, until he apparently realized what direction you were leading him towards. At that point, he got very quiet. Rather unusual for him, you noted.

Avery was the one who had booked the hotel, the most expensive one in the city, The Rose of the Rondelands. When you tried to tell him you wouldn’t mind staying someplace… less expensive... he insisted on booking at “the most elegant offering” in the area. Now, the artificially aged red brick building stood before you, its green neon sign glowing brightly even in the daylight. You went directly through the double doors without stopping.

Neither of you looked particularly “in place” at the hotel; most of the other temporary residents were business people, the rich, and the famous (or the rich AND famous!) A friendly Honedge staff Pokemon greeted you as you entered, and you waved at it and kept walking towards the elevator.

About a minute later, you both got to the room, slightly out of breath, and just… stared at each other for a bit. You both knew why you were here. It was just the… starting, part… that was hard.

And then something slightly devious came to your mind. You told him to do it again, the psychic touch thing he did before when you two were outside. Only this time, you wanted him to go further, you told him.

To say he blushed a “bright pink” would be an understatement. In general, Avery would be awful at poker with how expressive he is, and you could tell he definitely wasn’t expecting your suggestion. But, he regained his composure quickly, and before you could say more, you felt your feet leave the ground and a light blue glow envelop you, and you found yourself levitating across the room, and then gently plopped onto the bed.

As Avery removed a few of his more delicate garments with his back toward you (that hat is expensive, and he JUST isn’t into things getting ripped in the excitement), you felt that light touch again. This time, it was a bit more tingly, almost electric in a way, but not painful, rather, it was pleasant. This time, you felt numerous little trails, almost like the tips of someone’s fingers, gliding across your stomach. They rose, further, across your chest, and pulled your shirt off of you.

He returned to your side, pausing a moment to admire you, then laid down next to you, minus most of his accessories and his glasses. Pulling you into an embrace, he pressed kisses along your neck, but eventually stopped.

“I… may have made a bit of an assumption. I didn’t go too far, did I?” He asked, his head still buried in your neck.

You told him it was perfect. And that you wanted more.

It didn’t take him long to act on that. Not even half a second later, he was atop you, trying to undo your bottoms in the dark. With the curtains drawn and the light off, it wasn’t easy, but eventually, the two of you were skin to skin. Kissing you, one of his hands drifts downwards, gently pushing inside you, and after a few moments, another finger joins it. They gently pull out then in, and you sigh as you feel yourself loosening.

You lose track of time; it could have been five minutes, it could have been five hours. But eventually, Avery removed his hand, and with a bit of help from his psychic abilities, you heard something unzip, and then something flew into his hand. He pumped it, and you heard a gushy sound, and figured out it was lube. You were about to question him as to why he had it. Did his “Future Sight” hint to him that he might need it? Or was it just for his own needs? (A convenient plot device?!) But, the question soon left your mind. After he readied himself, you felt his hand return below, this time, more slippery, to prepare you.

You were impatient; you told him you were ready. Avery worked you for another minute, then apparently agreed with you. Removing his hand, he shifted his body upward to bring you into another kiss. His cock slid against your entrance, hips meeting yours as he teased you. With a thrust, he tried to enter you… and missed. Too high, no, that’s too low... With a laugh, you guide him into you. They make it seem so easy in the movies and books!

Despite the early misses, it was bliss. Once again, you entered that timeless state, only able to focus on him and his movements. He followed your lead; once you started getting impatient and mimicked his thrusts, he picked up the pace, earning a satisfied moan from you.

As his movements became rougher, more erratic and needy, he began to shower you with praise. Except, most of it was nonsensical, your name and moans mixed in between the words. (Normally, you’d think it was cute, but you were a bit busy at the moment) With a breath, he gave you one last, hard thrust and came, then flopped, not particularly gracefully, beside you, exhausted.

“S-sorry,” He said out of breath, “You were just so exquisite- elegant even, I couldn’t hold back any longer.”

You laughed a little and cuddled into him. It was fine, you told him; you were both happy, after all, and that was the point.

Apparently, he had something else in mind. He crawled between your legs, spreading them. It was still too dark to see, but you felt warmth as he slid his tongue across your sex. As he pleasured you, you felt his psychic touch once more, this time circling both nipples. It was hard to describe, but in a way, the feeling reminded you of a vibrator, minus the vibration. Just the tingles, in a sense.

With an arc of your back and a small moan, you climaxed, tensing up. It hadn’t taken long, given how close you were, AND the fact that he was using his abilities again.

Pulling his hair out of the way, Avery rejoined you at your side. Both you laid there in silence for several minutes, enjoying the cool AC and each other’s heartbeats.

“That… was most unexpected,” he said lowly, almost half-asleep.

Not the bad kind of unexpected, right? You tease.

He opens his eyes and smiles warmly at you. “Not at all… I enjoyed every second of it.”

[pinky-the-elephant-room]

Greatest

AN:  She meant fluff with implied smut for Katsuki.

Warning: Fluff, Angst, and Implied smut. And the use of Dynamight (I'm used to it now lol).

Bakugou Katsuki x Fem Reader

☄ ☄ ☄ ☄ ☄ ☄ ☄

Y/N looked at the rankings, a little bit in shock but also resignation. Katsuki ranked second again. It was only by a few points, but still, it wouldn’t matter to him. He was second, nonetheless. It was probably why he was late tonight. She had sent their kids to bed early just in case. Though their two girls (ages 8 and 5 respectively) complained and moaned, they still marched to bed when she gave them a stern look. It was a good thing too, Y/N didn’t want their girls to see their father when he was in that kind of mood. He was their hero, and she wanted to preserve that image. Girls needed a stable male role model. Sure, he cussed and yelled more than society would deem normal. But Katsuki was the love of her life. That meant loving the rougher parts of his personality too.

No doubt Katsuki would come home still wearing the aftereffects of a drinking session. As a rule, Dynamight didn’t drink. He always prioritized physical health, but there were exceptions like today, he would forgo his usual attitude.  She didn’t want her daughters to see their usually pristine father in a drunken stupor. The last time Deku beat Katsuki in the rankings, he came home intoxicated before hauling her off to bed. Way too handsy, he didn’t even get her bra off before collapsing and falling asleep. She let him exactly how she felt the next morning by giving him the silent treatment and making him leave the house without any breakfast.

Y/N jolted out of her thoughts when she heard the familiar noise of someone opening the door. Katsuki was not the type of person to yell out “Tadaima,” so she hurried to greet him in person. Or to give him a vomit bucket in case he got sick.

But to her shock and pleasant surprise, Katsuki was sober. There was no stench of alcohol or stumbling around. He calmly took off his shoes at the entrance before turning to look at her.

“D-do you want something to eat? I can warm up some dinner,” Y/N uttered, still beside herself.

“Not hungry. Where are the girls?” he asked as he hung up his coat.

“I put them to bed. They both have school tomorrow.”

With his usual scowl absent, he trudged through the living room and sat heavily on the sofa.

“Katsuki, are you ok?” Y/N asked tentatively, afraid to risk his ire.

He didn’t answer, and she stood there for a few minutes awkwardly, not knowing what to do. Just as she was about to turn around and maybe fetch some water, Katuski interrupted.

“I lost again. You know I thought this year would be mine,” he scoffed, “but of course, I lost to Deku again.”

“What do you think I’m doing wrong, Y/N? Is it because I don’t go around smiling like a jackass like he does or go around yelling “SMASH” like a downgraded version of All Might? I don’t fucking get it,” Kastuki said, feeling utterly exhausted.

“Do rankings matter that much to you?”

“Of course, it matters. It matters to everyone that is aiming to become the very best."

“But does being the best hero mean ranking number one on some billboard chart? Do you know how many people you’ve saved in just this month, let alone the entire year? Katsuki, some parents shouldn’t have been able to survive but are home right now with their kids because of you.”

“Rankings don’t matter to me because they’re arbitrary. You’ve been the number one hero for so many people already. No one is going to tell me otherwise. So, fuck Billboard!” she panted.

His vermillion eyes widened, and then Bakugou looked to the side before flashing a smirk at her.

“Look at you, mommy. Cussing in the house. Che, I should spank you.”

Y/N’s face reddened, and she squeaked out a scandalous “Katsuki!”

“Oy let’s go to bed,” he said, changing the subject abruptly.

“What. Why? So, you could spank me?” she asked, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

Katsuki replied while grabbing her hand, “Nah, ask me some other night.”

As they went up the familiar stairs of their home, Y/N couldn’t help but wonder what was up with her husband. She expected him to be angrier, but Katsuki was acting calm and almost contemplative.

“Ne, anata. How come you didn’t drink today?”

Katsuki turned to look at her in surprise. “Did you want me to drink? I thought you would be happier to see me sober. Last time you ignored me all day, and I had to buy some food with shitty hair.”

“Oh, I’m sorry- “

“Fuck that. Don’t apologize. I deserved it.” With a soft kick from Katsuki, their bedroom door squeaked open.

With gentle eyes and delicate hands, he helped her undress while she helped him remove his pants. Most people didn’t think Dynamight with his infamy was capable of being kind. Y/N would learn it wasn’t that he was incapable but instead his kindness attributed to rudely criticizing in the guise of helping. But when Katsuki realized his efforts were instead driving her away further, he had to reevaluate himself. Such as recognizing if his ego was more important than the girl he cared for.

Katsuki hesitantly touched her as if asking Y/N for permission nonverbally. When they made love, it was always akin to pleasure and never pain. He was selfish, almost to a fault, but whenever she was concerned. His desires no longer seemed important. They held hands, and his forehead rested against her as he groaned with exuberance. Y/N soothed his back muscles patiently as they flexed underneath her fingers. He watched her almost obsessively, waiting for the moment she unraveled beneath him. Y/N never felt as close to her husband as in these quiet moments they shared alone. He was always so in tune with her needs.

When she lost herself in the raptures of pleasure, Y/N could vaguely make out the raw love in his eyes. In return, she stroked his coarse blond hair while Katsuki hid his face in her embrace. And if by chance Y/N felt tears and heard choked sobs, she only tightened her grip, waiting for him to ride his orgasm out.

It seemed her husband was too exhausted by the end, and he soon passed out.

Y/N watched his slumbering face with a small smile.

“I have faith you’ll be number one. I just know it,” she murmured before curling herself around his warm body.

A year from now on rankings were announced again by Billboard, Bakugou couldn’t muster the energy to care. Even when he was number one for the first time in his career, Katsuki chose to focus on his family instead.

[physicalturian]

[18+] Words of pleasure - Law x F!Reader - Part 5

[No spoilers] [Modern AU - College AU] [She/her pronouns used for the reader, no physical description; Everyone +18] Words : 6269 Archive of our own

Warning : Power play / Dom/sub Dynamics / Control / Stranger / Flirting / Aftercare / Awkwardness … If you feel like I should add more warnings, send me a dm or and ask

– Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4

You: Sup doc, got home safely?

[You sent an attachment]

I chuckled for a second, making myself laugh at the picture of the crazy scientist from Back to the Future I had sent. Then when I looked at it more than five seconds, I just regretted it. “I should have flirted. I should have asked him if he was free soon. But I did that. Wow.” Gathering my stuff, I was expecting him to be asleep but received an answer in no time.

 Trafalgar Law 😷: I’ll admit it’s creative real first text. But don’t send me that shit again, I’m not an old man.

You: Hey, it’s hilarious. You mad because you asked me to call you doc and now you regret it.

Trafalgar Law 😷: I just hope you won’t see that in your head when you’ll think of me, it can easily become a turn off, I think.

You: Damn, what if I’m into older men?

Trafalgar Law 😷: Lucky for you I’m older, then. Why are you still awake?

Trafalgar Law 😷: You should sleep, it’s late and you seemed tensed the entire evening.

You: You’re worried about me? How cute, I thought you were just looking to dick me down.

You: But I’m going to sleep soon, don’t worry hot stuff, I was just showering before bed.

You: Who knows, maybe I’ll dream of you 😉

 I read my message over, and over and as I saw him type and stop a few times I was quick to send another one.

 You: Yeah, ignore that. I’m tired, I’m not pushy promised. But you should sleep too, beauty sleep and all.

Trafalgar Law 😷: Depending on the kind of dreams you’re having, I’ll gladly join you.

Trafalgar Law 😷: You’re cute. I’ll sleep in a few. I still have some things to do, I’ll be sure to send you a text in the morning to ask you what you dreamed of.

You: Right, bold of you to assume I remember my dream. And that I’d share them with you.

You: But please go to bed, it’s getting super late.

[Trafalgar Law 😷sent an attachment]

Trafalgar Law 😷: I’m in bed, don’t worry.

 It was stupid, but I did laugh. He was sitting against his pillows, the simple black bed panel behind him. His hair was a lot messier than usual, but he did not look sleepy one bit. And he was still wearing his dress shirt, which clearly was in no way a pajama.

 You: Funny. You’re a funny guy Trafalgar Law, wow. You’re lucky you’re hot

You: You’re still fully dressed, that’s not going to sleep to me.

Trafalgar Law 😷: If you want to see me naked so bad, you have to work for it.

Trafalgar Law 😷: I did say I’d enjoy you on your knees, it seems like a good place to start. But, all in due time, right?

 Chuckling at his text, I bid him a good night without replying to his innuendo which was more than an innuendo, really. Hopefully, an unspoken promise of a goodtime. I left the bathroom feeling a bit funny inside and put the toy away before sitting back on the bed. I was wearing a large shirt so that I could show my legs if the HandSurgeon asked and sat with my legs crossed on the bed before typing.

 Edelweiss: Back!

HandSurgeon: Your lap is pretty red; how does it feel?

Edelweiss: it’s alright, a bit sore but I like it, it reminds me of yeah… the discipline so yeah, it’s ok

HandSurgeon: Cute, you enjoyed it quite a lot. Maybe you could take more next time if you feel like it.

HandSurgeon: But it’d mean you’d have disobeyed, which you won’t do. Correct?

Edelweiss: yes, I won’t. Sorry…

HandSurgeon: It’s alright, doll.

HandSurgeon: Is there something you enjoyed more this session? Or did not at all?

 Trying to remember the things he had said during the session, I was going to tell him that everything was good until I remembered that small thing he said, that I did not particularly enjoy. I didn’t know if he was going to tell me to just get on with it and try to enjoy it or anything but trusting he wouldn’t get mad I wrote down.

 Edelweiss: I really enjoyed your voice… that’s for sure but I didn’t enjoy being called a bitch in heat?

Edelweiss: it was alright right now though, but I don’t know, I didn’t vibe.

Edelweiss: sorry if you’re more of a degrader than praiser

HandSurgeon: I am sorry, I am indeed more used to be a bit rougher with my partner. I’ll be more careful next time, don’t hesitate to tell me if you don’t like something I do.

HandSurgeon: This is an exchange, we’re both in to enjoy it and have fun. And while I usually degrade, I am very much enjoying telling you how good you are. Even more so seeing how well you react.

HandSurgeon: You did good telling me your color, very good.

HandSurgeon: I believe edging was not in your list, but how did you enjoy it?

Edelweiss: soooo frustrating! And embarrassing to beg alright? But in a good way I guess… a very good way

 Pondering a bit more, I was curious. If we were giving feedbacks and asking questions, I could give it a go.

 Edelweiss: were you annoyed? That I touched myself.

HandSurgeon: Yes. I was. If I had you next to me, I would have brought you to my bed. I would have had you kneeling in the center, with that egg still inside you. The had you stripped down naked and would have looked at you. If you had moved, I’d strike you down. Simple.

HandSurgeon: You’d be begging in no time, really.

Edelweiss: it does sound kinda interesting though

Edelweiss: I’d definitely be up to it if you’d enjoy it

HandSurgeon: I’m sure you’d take it like very well, adding a blindfold to the mix would be even better.

HandSurgeon: You wouldn’t know when I’d strike. Jumping on the bed at the littlest touch. Goosebumps all over that pretty body of yours.

HandSurgeon: Running the tip of my whip over your skin. Barely grazing it. Then gripping the back of your neck and sliding my fingers through your hair. Pulling your head back to see that needy face of yours.

 I wanted to read more of him, see what else he’d do to me. I wanted to do something again. While my sex was sore, I could also feel the throbbing coming back and fuck was I ready to ask him if he had time to do it again. My body must have been moving on the screen, since I saw the new message from the dom.

 HandSurgeon: Stop fidgeting. There won’t be another session tonight, doll. I have to finish working, and you…

HandSurgeon: Well, you need to eat something and drink some water. Go get some food. We can hang up if you want, or you can leave the camera on. I would not mind the little motivation of seeing my girl on the screen.

Edelweiss: I won’t stay long, I have classes tomorrow. Lemme grab some food, I’ll be right there!

Edelweiss: but admit it, you just want to make sure I eat and drink 👀

HandSurgeon: I do indeed. Now, go.

 We then spent around 20 minutes on the call. I stayed with my camera on, still making sure he could not see my face, and ate up. He would reply a bit more slowly than during our session, since he was working, but when he did it was a lot lighter than usual. We talked of our lives, previous partners, preferences but it quickly turned to other topics. TV shows we enjoyed or had in common, hobbies, pets.

 I learnt he liked to sketch, mostly people, he never did art school and never wanted to but loved the human anatomy. He said he found it fascinating. I felt flattered when he suggested we find some free time so that he could draw me. I told him I’d think about it, then we changed topics but kept off the more personal ones, such as family, school and city. The less we knew, the better. It was weird, getting to know him after I had let him do as he pleased with me. But doing so made it more interesting for some reason.

 I did not feel anything much for the man, but I enjoyed his company a lot. I had no plan of meeting him at all, and if I ever found someone, I’d probably stop talking to him, which is something we both agreed on. This was just to get off, this was simply to both find that pleasure of having the power dynamic in play. It was interesting, and I never thought I’d be doing this but here I was, having hung up on a stranger I should call my dom. Here I was, exhausted after masturbating for him. Following each of his instruction.

 Having had a taste of that side I had never ventured on, I realized I liked it a lot and I could see myself doing it more from time to time. Maybe not all the time, but in bed it was so intriguing.

 I surprised myself as I laid under my covers, slowly drifting to sleep, when a thought crossed my mind, I wonder if Law would do that… I shook the thought away, but it came back just as strong, I was curious. He would look at me with the same look he gave me all night, intrigued and yet clearly expecting all those reactions of me. Knowing what he was doing, knowing the effect he had on me. Whatever I’d say, he wouldn’t be surprised, as if he could read me. He’d ask me those same questions he did that night, trying to get me riled up and I would let him. Would I imagine him as that man from online?

 Would I secretly be hoping he would be that good? Would I let him do as he pleased with me? Was I even going to go on a date with him? This last question had an answer already, we both hardly had any free time. I don’t believe we had the same schedule either, it’d be too hard. But I’d entertain the idea, it was fun. I was slightly excited if it did happen, after all he was attractive. And I could use the kind of fun he was suggesting, considering all the stress we must both be under.

 Turning in bed, I pulled my phone from under my pillow and texted Law.

 You: You better be asleep old doc, because I am hitting the sac. And ignoring your last text at the same time.

Trafalgar Law 😷: Shall I take that as a “no”?

You: Definitely not, but I want to know if your personality is as hot as your face, first.

You: For scientific purposes

Trafalgar Law 😷: Luckily, I did pretty well in sciences. I’ll help with your research then.

You: That means I can call you partner? Pardner 🤠 in research of a fun time

Trafalgar Law 😷: Partner of fun, if you want. Pardner, no.

You: Dagnabbit, sad cowboy noise.

Trafalgar Law 😷: I think you need sleep, partner.

You: I definitely do, good night pardner. You should sleep too, you looked fucking tired tonight.

[Trafalgar Law 😷 sent an attachment]

You: it’s pitch black?

Trafalgar Law 😷: Because I’m trying to sleep, and you keep messaging me.

You: no one’s forcing you to answer 😏 but good night pardner

Trafalgar Law 😷: Good night

 I did fall asleep soon after. It was a miracle I managed to keep the conversation that long considering how tired I was and yet I was able to exchange, albeit embarrassingly, with the hot guy. I did not know why I had sent him a message- who am I kidding I know why I did that. Not only was I in that post-orgasm daze but also, this little voice in my head kept considering him as a potential something.

 That something was yet to be determined, booty call? Romantic partner? Sex friend? I did not know yet, the only way to find out was that date. And perhaps, if it went well enough, the after-date part. Which I was excited about, maybe more than the date part.

 This time I did not dream of the HandSurgeon, I did however have a dream about Trafalgar Law. It was not as hot as the one I had the night before… But it was something…

 In that dream, I had called him out of boredom while working on some stuff, and he had picked up mildly annoyed. But even though he was annoyed, he kept me on the line while making his way to his office and closed the door behind him.

 Then the mood changed, the ambiance too, the lights got slightly darker and suddenly I found myself in his office. He was leaning on his desk, arms crossed across his chest and seemingly expectant. I saw myself approach him with determination, I was but a spectator to that whole scene. I stopped right in front of him and let him grab my hands before he pulled them behind his back and turned me around so that I was now the one against the desk.

 The view changed and I could see him from up close now, he was looking down at me with a smug smile. I saw his lips moving but could not comprehend what he was saying. His tattooed hand travelled to my neck, gently brushing his thumb over it before grabbing my jaw gently. He spoke again and while I did not know what he said, I felt nervous, and slightly afraid.

 I tried to ask him to repeat, and maybe I did but I could not hear myself. He leaned forward and let his other hand graze the skin under my shirt before whispering. “Edelweiss… my sweet and pretty toy. So good for me.” I let my head fall back in pleasure from his touches but the constant feeling of confusion and fear only grew. I tried to understand why I was feeling like that, among the joy I felt upon hearing his word. Then it clicked.

 He doesn’t know about Edelweiss- he’s not that man, he shouldn’t know.

 Now I’m in my bed. Looking at a screen, I can see someone on that screen, but I can’t see it really. Then I understand who it is, HandSurgeon, but this time it’s Trafalgar Law. “You want us to be the same.”

 “You wish I was real, you’re so desperate for this to happen with me, with him, we’re the same to you, Edelweiss. You should think, wake up, realize that you’re making a mistake, wake up, we can’t be the same, wake up, you just want it so bad-“

 “Wake up!” I was startled awake by Nami, who was looking at me angrily, already fully dressed. “Jesus, did last night tire you that bad?” How could she know what I had done last night? She wasn’t even home- Trying to come up with anything, I was too sleepy to be embarrassed, then she spoke and cleared my mind. “You know, if I had known socializing with Traffy would tired you that much, I would have brought him over a lot sooner. Maybe you’d finally catch some real sleep.” She explained as she kept her gaze on my, probably, sleep-marks adorned face.

 Sighing, she pulled the covers off my form without a second thoughts when I was unresponsive to her words. “This time you have more than 5 minutes to get ready but move your ass or I’ll leave you there. Come on, hurry.”  She stopped by the door and made a compassionate face, “By the way, don’t worry, he exhausts me too. It’s the smug face and the condescending attitude that just-“ she made a sounds with her tongue against her teeth, “it ticks me off, you know?” She was gone right after.

 Looking at the doorway longer than I wanted to, I started drifting off to sleep when I was startled awake once more. My phone was ringing, and I was very much aware it was not my alarm. Stretching my arm to the bed table, I grabbed my phone and was surprised when I read the screen and saw it was Trafalgar Law. I picked up in confusion, “What do you want?” With the sleepiness and the confusion, my tone ended up being a bit more aggressive than I expected.

 “How about you start with good morning?” I heard him chuckle, he was probably proud of that too. Rolling my eyes, I let my head fall back on the pillow and spoke again, “Good morning, do you need something?” I sighed and pulled my covers back on my form, hearing the blinker of his car in the background I guessed he was driving and was paying more attention to the road.

 “Good morning, did I perhaps wake you up?” He asked rhetorically but I could hear the smile on his lips. All I did was hum in return, still waiting for the reason he called me. “I’m free this Thursday, how does it sound for those… research?” He seemed reticent saying it, probably rolling his eyes at how stupid it sounded. Laughing in my throat in return, it was not charming but the way he said it made it too funny for my dazed state. “Too shy to call it a date? I need to check my schedule; I don’t know if I’m free.” Thinking he’d hang up, I instead heard him talk to someone before talking to me again.

 “Then go ahead and check, I’ll wait.” He unbuckled his seatbelt and rummaged through something while I checked on my phone, mumbling. “Can’t you let a girl sleep? Don’t you have a work to get to?” I opened the calendar but kept grumbling while doing so, “You’re lucky I’m not hanging up to go back to sleep.” While checking my schedule, I double checked if there was a time I could be free on Thursday and heard Law scoff.

 He huffed a laugh, “I think you’d have hung up by now if you did not want to talk to me, I don’t think it’s luck, but interest.” Then a sigh as he got a bit more serious, “Just answer the question, I have to get going.”

 Scoffing, I brought the phone back to my ear, “You’re just a pretty face for now, Doc. Don’t bet on interest just yet. Now, I’m free around 2 pm that day, if that’s cool with you. But add like half an hour or so, it gives me time to get back home.”

 “Give me the address of your campus, I’ll come and get you there.” I heard the sound of the car door being slammed closed in the background, and the rustle of a bag. “I’m not about to refuse a car ride, it’s a bit odd but thank you!” I quickly sat up, suddenly feeling excited for my plans on Thursday. “Don’t expect me to be dressed all chic though, if I have classes in the morning, it’ll be comfortable and only slightly fashion.” I said lightly as I made my way to my wardrobe to start getting dressed for the day.

 “Give me a moment.” I heard the phone being moved a bit, a few muffled voices greeting the man, footsteps echoing on the ground accompanied by the hubbub of phones ringing, beeping sounds and people talking. While waiting, I was able to get dressed and go back to my desk to prepare my stuff. After a few minutes, I finally heard him. “You were talking about your clothes, to be honest as long as it’s easy to remove, we’re good.” He said smoothly, I could hear the smirk, the smugness in his voice.

 I simply looked at the phone with surprise and pleasantness. That was interesting to say the least, and I was enjoying it. “You’re not saying anything, I’m assuming you agree. Good, then I’ll see you on Thursday? Don’t be afraid to send me pictures if you’re curious about what clothes to wear, I’d gladly help you pick.” I had to stand my ground, he was too smooth. Too much, too flirty, too… familiar…?

 “Just for that, I’ll wear the most intricate clothes I have. Make it worth your while, you know?” While his laugh was beautiful, it was also condescending. I kept having mixt feelings about the man. “Well, if I am in a hurry, know that I am very skilled with sharp tools, and I’d have no shame in tearing your pretty clothes apart.” The sound of the creaking chair in the background made me think he was probably leaning back on his chair. A quick thought crossed my mind, of going up to him and sitting on his lap and seeing what he’d do, but I shoved that thought away.

 Instead, I huffed in response and threw my bag over my shoulder. I tried to come up with a witty reply, making lame sounds with my mouth, but I had no matching energy. Even less this early in the morning. “Alright, sure, you win. I was not going to wear anything intricate anyway, even I’m too lazy for that. Casual it is, so don’t go looking all professional on me, please. I’ll feel off.”

 “Put it on my desk, I’ll be there in a few- it’s an important call, I’m sure he can wait five more minutes… He doesn’t have a choice, tell him to wait… Intern or not you can tell him to wait, how else do you expect to be taken seriously? …  Well, tell him I am the one who said that, then, Tony... Right, now go- And close the door behind.” I felt bad eavesdropping like that, it wasn’t a conversation I was meant to hear but it did not seem like any important information had been shared either. Except the fact that he said this was an important call when it clearly was not. It sent pride to my chest.

 Walking to the kitchen, I made a motion with my index to my lips to Robin and Nami when they started talking a bit too loud. I pointed at the phone, then wiggled my fingers before drawing an invisible circle on the back of my hand. I tried very hard to make them understand it was Law, but they seemed confused. Instead, I held my phone between my shoulder and my ear and spelled Law with both of my hands. This time they understood, I knew it from the huge grin on their face.

 “We got interrupted, sorry about that. If you feel intimated by a professional look, I guess we’ll have to drop by my place before going on that date. Do tell me if you’d rather I keep the medical coat-“ Cutting him off, I needed to set things straight. “Hey, I never said that was my cup of tea, okay? And I’m not intimidated, I’m sure you’re rocking the look- “ I never sighed more loudly than at this very moment when Nami snatched the phone from my hand, and said, “Alright asshole, time’s up, you’ve had time to work your charm… no I’m not doing that”

 Robin butted in next to the microphone and said, “She’s all flustered, Traffy, good work!” I went to grab it back from the ginger’s hands but the stepped back and exchanged a few words with Law before handing me my phone back with a bright smile. Bringing it back to my ear, I rushed back to the corridor to avoid them eavesdropping more than they did in the kitchen.

 “Sorry about them- for your outfit, wear whatever you want. I truly have no say in what you’re going to wear, plus you’ll look hot with whatever you pick so, it’s a win-win.” I quickly said, earning a laugh from the man on the other side. “I’d love to see your face right now, Robin did say you were flustered. Guess we’ll have to wait until Thursday.” He hummed, his tone having some finality to it. I knew it was my cue to hang up.

 “I wasn’t flustered, I- at best embarrassed- no wait that sounds worst doesn’t it? Anyway, see you on Thursday! Have fun at work, bye.” I waited until he bid me goodbye before hanging up. As I put my phone away, I leaned against the wall and sighed, letting my head hit the wall. “Are you okay?” Robin’s soft voice reached my ears, she was making her way towards me with a slight smile. Probably feeling a bit bad for going along Nami’s childish attitude only moments ago.

 Humming, I gave her a nod. But the words that followed were not matching the actions. “He’s like, very hot. And I really want to fuck him, right? But he’s also pretty funny, and good at flirting?”

Squinting her eyes, Robin asked, “Is that a question… or?”

“No, no, it’s facts and it confuses me! I was ready to just, hook up, but he could be more- I don’t know maybe I’m desperate.” I simply shrugged, leaving a silence between the black-haired woman and me.

 Looking up at her, she seemed to be thinking. Then she smiled, she was always the one with good advice but also a helpless romantic. “It’s a good thing isn’t it? You don’t need to worry too much, that date of yours will help you see if you’re really interested in him or not! If not, you’ll have great sex- if yes, you’ll still have great sex, and another date.” I groaned in reply, running a hand through my hair before giving her a short nod.

 “Yeah, you’re right. I’ll just- live my life until then, I have other things to do than think of a man. By the way are you home tonight?” I asked her as we walked back to the kitchen where Nami was nowhere to be found, there was simply a piece of paper with the words ‘bring your ass to the car’.

 Chuckling lightly, Robin shook her head. “I have to stay late at the library. Then Franky agreed to let me stay at his place, since it’s closer.” We talked a bit as we made our way to the door, where she wave me goodbye before closing the door gently behind me.

 When I was back in the car, Nami had one of her earbuds on and was talking more gently than she’d usually talk to someone. Which means she was talking to Vivi. I did not interrupt and instead grabbed my phone and saw a message from HandSurgeon.

 HandSurgeon: Are you feeling better? Don’t forget to stay hydrated, I’ll be a bit busy this week, but I can find time if you’d like.

Edelweiss: shit, just saw your message! Sorry, crazy morning. I am definitely sore, but it’s good, I can move so there’s that!

Edelweiss: Also, I might be a bit away from Wednesday to Friday, I am seeing someone and knowing how our session leave me pretty sore, I’d rather you know…

Edelweiss: be in good shape

Edelweiss: for a good fun

Edelweiss: a good fuck

 This time, I did not have a prompt reply. I put my phone away and it’s only halfway through my day, while I was working on something at the library, that I received a reply from him. I’ll admit, I had been expectant the entire morning for an answer. I had been deep in textbooks for so long, I was craving for any sort of interaction, from anyone. Which explained the speed at which I unlocked my phone to see the text from HandSurgeon, and even one from Trafalgar Law.

 I hesitate for a moment, then opened discord.

 HandSurgeon: It’s fine, you are allowed to have a life you know. Simply tell me if you want to stop this, or not, you know… if your someone is not the one and you still need a good fuck.

HandSurgeon: I will also be busy on Thursday, I’ll try to send you a text if I get some free time.

HandSurgeon: I just finished a long meeting, would you be up for a fun game?

 I stared at his messages, feeling a bit excited suddenly. But knowing myself, I would say yes, so I had to answer to Law first before spending my time sexting the stranger.

 Trafalgar Law 😷: I’m sorry we had to cut our conversation short, how was class? I have a bit of free time, if you’d like to talk about our research meeting.

You: That’s actually pretty cute, thought you were just a horny piece of meat but damn, you surprise me.

You: I am still on campus, drowning in work. I’d love to talk, but I need to focus, text me later? 🤠

 Going back on discord, I felt strange. I wanted to say yes, to play his game, but it felt wrong for some reason. I was double texting and it felt like I was cheating on a man I was not even dating. I ignored the thought and typed back.

 Edelweiss: I kinda wanna know, but also really need to get back to work. So, I’ll have to decline.

Edelweiss: But I’m curious, what was the game?

HandSurgeon: It’s quite alright, I was going to suggest you’d take a pretty picture for me no matter who was around. But you are busy, so I’ll leave you be. Focus on your work. I’ll talk to you later.

HandSurgeon: But for ‘emotional support’, I’ll give you this:

HandSurgeon : [sent an attachment]

 I snorted at his words, and smiled when he sent me a picture of his gloved hand gripping the wheel of his car tightly. I did comment on wearing gloves while driving, even though they were not medical gloves and it had some charm, it was very movie-like. And suspicious.

 After that, I put my phone down and got lost in work. I did not even see time fly by, what informed me that it was indeed a few hours later than I thought, was the grumbling of my stomach. “I think it’s time to call it a day.” I mumbled while packing everything up. With the books put back where they belonged and my laptop tucked away, I made my way outside and was walking through the parking lot when I saw a familiar mop of hair making its way towards me.

 I suddenly felt self-conscious and straightened my back before meeting his gaze and frowning in confusion. “Are you stalking me?” I patted my pockets in emphasis, before saying “Did you put a chip somewhere, or-“ Law shook his head as if I was being crazy. “Bro, it’s super super sus that you’re at my campus when I never gave you the address-“

“I asked Robin. I was going to ask Nami but she wouldn’t have given me anything.” He explained as if it was obvious.

 Looking around, I opened my mouth and closes it a few times. It was a bit awkward. “Why are you here, then?” I asked, still confused, my eyes squint in suspicion.

“Right- give me a moment.” He turned around and took a few long strides to get to his car and get something from the passenger seat before coming back. Even though his steps were hurried, there was still this elegance to it that I could not ignore.

 “I am very familiar with long hours of studying, so here’s a drink and some food. I used to skip meals, because I’d get too much into it. Don’t do that, eat.” While what he said seemed caring, he was not smiling or anything. But the gesture was so sweet I couldn’t help but smile.

“It’s very nice of you,” I said, tucking my hair behind my ear jokingly in faux-shyness before going back to a normal demeanor. “But I was going home. I was done for the day, here,” I handed it back to him before trying to find my wallet in my bag. “Let me, just- how much do I owe you?”

 He stopped me from rummaging through my back and ruffled my hair before handing me the drink and food back. “Nothing, I was passing by. Now I am sure to not get lost when I’ll come and get you on Thursday.” He winked, then looked back at his watch a moment. He seemed to ponder something for a moment, before looking up at me. “Would you like me to drop you off at your house? I have a bit of time before going back to work.” He asked kindly, showing me his keys as if trying to coo me.

 “Maybe you should go eat too? I’ll take the bus, it’s alright.” Smiling, the man pointed at his car with a certain pride. “Oh don’t worry, I got myself something too. It could be our first lunch date, you are so bent on traditions, so why not lunch?”

 I felt my cheeks heat up and pushed him playfully, careful not to spill the drink I had in my hand. “I’m not bent on traditions, I just barely know you, doc.” I looked to the side and shrugged before walking past him, “Let’s get lunch.” I said over my shoulder. I heard the man laugh in the back, then the jingle of keys.

 I tried to open the door but found it locked. I stated the obvious, “I can’t get in if it’s locked.” I was about to complain more, when he leaned over his side of the car and grinned. “Ask politely, and I’ll let you in.” I hated him, but the smile on my face was a betrayal of how I really felt. He was a little shit, but it was still fun. Rolling my eyes, I mimicked his action and rested my arms on the roof of the car, “Could you please unlock the car, doc?” “Good girl, was it that hard?”

 I turned my head towards him so fast I may have pulled a muscle in my neck, but the way he said it made it a lot more than just a nickname. He was testing the waters for something, and I had given him the exact reaction he wanted. “What, do I call you daddy now?” I said sarcastically while getting inside the car and buckling my seatbelt while he held everything before placing them back on my lap.

 “Not my thing, but I’m sure we’ll get to that conversation later.” He smirked as he put something in the glove box before closing it back and meeting my intense gaze as he leaned back on his seat. I was observing each and everyone of his action, feeling out of place in his car. I had met the man last night, but for some reason he felt familiar. Perhaps it was his aura, perhaps he was just that reassuring. No, clearly not, he looks threatening… “Something on your mind? I don’t know if you’re looking at me like you want kill me or fuck me,” Extending his hand towards me, he placed his index under my chin and lifted it, I quickly grabbed his hand like last time to stop him.

 “Maybe both, maybe none-“ With a short smile, he interrupted me, “Don’t be like that, I’ll ask differently. Are you uncomfortable? I haven’t done this in a while, so I’m trying to take it slow…ish.” He admitted. I could see on his face he was feeling just as sheepish as I was. Clasping my hands on my lap I chuckled nervously, “I’m good, I was just…. Observing. You’re doing good, simply put…” I trailed off and met his gaze with a playful grin, “Ye’re a looker pardner,” I then tipped my non-existent hat, which made him laugh genuinely.

 “You were just in awe?” He asked a bit surprised, hiding his bashfulness behind a laugh. “Exactly, take the compliment and don’t mention it again. Now drive, or you’ll get back late at work.” I huffed, looking at the window with warm cheeks. I felt a pull at my hand and looked at it confused, “I’d love to, but you’re still holding my hand.” I quickly let go and threw his hand back at him, “It was to make sure you weren’t going to do the whole,” Making a gesture with my hands in the air, wiggling my fingers, I continued, “Chin thing again.”

 Even though he agreed, only giving me a curt nod along with a “Right.”, I could see the smile on his face as he started the car. Looking at him from the corner of my eyes, I matched his smile discretely as I looked back at the road.

 The volume of the music wasn’t loud, I could hear the fabric of his coat as he maneuvered, the blinkers, my own nervous heartbeat. There was no reason for me to feel so nervous, we were just going to eat lunch then go our separate way. To try to calm down, I rummaged through my brain for topics to talk about, small talks was fun in social events but in one on one, it was a fucking disaster.

 Do you have any pets? Do you like cats? Maybe talk about his job? How long did he study? Or funny topics, less social, more creative? Politics is off the table, it’s not that great of a first date conversation. What’s your favourite colour? What part of your body to your prefer-

 I blurted out a question to try to fill the silence. And fuck did I regret it, I shouldn’t be allowed to speak when in that state, but it was too late. “So… what’s your favourite body part?” Wait, no, fuck, not…

[Part 6]

[starkravinghazelnoots]

There were many things Sarah Wilson could say she adored about May Parker, from May’s pretty eyes to her soft hair to her contagious smile. She adored May’s bubbly laugh, too, and the way May’s chin just barely rested on her shoulder when May stood on her tiptoes. Their dramatic height difference also made kisses that much more exhilarating, at least in Sarah’s opinion. But one thing Sarah Wilson especially adored about May Parker?

It had to be her spunk.

May was a strong-willed, fiery person. She had no other choice, what with raising a teenage superhero and working double shifts at the ER and still making time to volunteer at local charities in Queens. But at first glance, Sarah suspected most saw May as nothing more then a petite woman dressed to the nines in her scrubs who existed in a perpetual state of semi-exhaustion. One conversation later, though?

Yeah, it was May’s stubborn, good-hearted spirit that Sarah hadn’t been able to stop herself from falling head over heels for.

It was nice, really, having someone who liked to be in control—without being overbearing about said control, either. The perfect combination. Because yes, Sarah could be assertive. She was a single mother of two young boys and a Black woman running a self-owned seafood business in the deep South. Sometimes an assertive attitude was necessary. And sure, Delacroix was a much better place than most, but that didn’t mean her life was a picnic.

Still. Just because Sarah could be assertive when the situation called for it did not mean she wanted to be. The last thing she needed was the angry Black woman stereotype weaponized and shoved in her face when she was just trying to make it through the day.

The first year of the Blip, the first year without Sam, had been especially hard.

So Sarah adored being with May. Adored that May could do the bossing, adored that she could be as soft with May as she wanted, adored that May found her most beautiful during those moments of calm. Of quiet.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” May teased as she entered the apartment, placing her purse by the door before dropping onto the couch beside Sarah. Sarah had only arrived a few minutes earlier, having let herself in with the key May had gifted her the day before. “Come here often?”

“As often as I can,” Sarah responded, a grin sliding onto her lips. “Tickets to New York are expensive.”

May laughed. “Good thing Captain America covers your fare.”

“Mhm. Very altruistic of him.” Sarah was one conversation away from convincing Sam to cover May’s trips to Delacroix, too, she was sure of it. “How was work?”

May hummed, shrugging. “Not bad. Felt long, though.” She exhaled slowly. “We revived a teen from a cocaine overdose. It was a close call, and they almost…” May shook her head, the action sharp and jarring, as if she was reprimanding herself. “Sorry. They’re stable now. That’s what counts.”

Sarah tucked a strand of May’s hair behind her ear. The events of her shift had probably been rougher than her girlfriend was letting on, but Sarah knew now wasn’t the time to push her. A distraction was what May needed. “I missed you, you know.”

May caught Sarah’s hand when she tried to pull it away, threading their fingers together before giving Sarah’s hand a gentle squeeze. “I missed you more.”

Sarah laughed—or maybe it was closer to a giggle, a sound Sarah usually found embarrassing but had never cared about in front of May—before leaning forward to brush their noses together. “Now don’t start that.”

May wiggled her eyebrows, earning more laughter from Sarah. “You could stop me.”

Sarah removed May’s glasses with her free hand, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips. “Something tells me you don’t need me to stop you.”

“Hmm. Yeah, you’d be right about that.” May moved to sit in Sarah’s lap, the additional boost of height putting their gazes at about the same level. “How about I start something else, then?”

Sarah adored when May started things, adored when May led her through them, adored when May took her by the hand and tugged her along. To give up control to someone else was the most freeing experience in the world—ha, what an oxymoron. All this was to say that when May leaned in to capture Sarah’s mouth in a deeper, more intimate kiss than the previous one they shared, Sarah certainly wasn’t complaining. She sighed into the warmth, her hands falling to rest on May’s hips while May’s rose to cup her face.

“I gotta say… I missed this, too,” May murmured against her lips, and Sarah bit back a laugh.

“You aren’t the only one.”

May grinned at her, eyes twinkling with that spunk so uniquely her—God, Sarah’s heart skipped a beat, her breath stolen away. She had a feeling May would always have that effect on her.

“Good to know,” was the only response May provided before she surged forward to close the distance between them a third time, and a content hum rose in Sarah’s chest as she gladly reciprocated the action.

Yeah, Sarah Wilson adored—hell, she loved May Parker. Loved her eyes, her smile, her laugh. Loved that May always knew when to start and when to stop. Loved how May brought out a gentle side of her she sometimes feared their cold, cruel world had eaten away.

And so, Sarah figured, if there was any drug to overdose on…

Love would have to be the one.

[blackstonesandtrapnest]

hello! I’m so happy to see a nana blog!! Do you wanna perhaps have any headcanons for yasu in a relationship? I’m rewatching the show and my thirst for him is unexpected but real 🥵 sfw and nsfw would be lovely~

Blogs about NANA are such a rarity aren’t they? :( But it’s good to know that there are still fans out there!

Ahhhh I see we have a Yasu fangirl ;) But I can definitely understand why! He’s so amazing and underrated! He needs more love!

~~SFW~~

Because of how he looks, Yasu has a bit of a hard time when it comes to women. He often finds himself being the chaser since the ladies are often intimidated by him and think he’s menacing. If a woman ever does approach him first, Yasu will literally not know what to do!

Yasu usually remains single because of how hard he works taking care of other people and he doesn’t mind at all. But Yasu has had his fair share of relationships and he definitely wishes to settle down one day with a wife and kids. Getting and maintaining Yasu’s attention isn’t too difficult and once you have it, you remain there like a nasty infection.

His family and friends have to meet and approve of you before you and Yasu become official. They’re very protective of him and don’t want him to get tangled up with some two-timing whore. It’s mostly Nana and Ren who have the final say since they’re the most significant people in his life aside from his adoptive parents of course. It goes without saying that if you wanna be in Yasu’s life, you have to get along with his friends and family. It’s not up for debate.

Yasu is very easy to talk to and likes deep conversations so don’t be afraid to talk to him about anything you want. To him, one of the most intimate things to do with his partner is to simply have a nice conversation while cuddling. Yasu doesn’t care what it’s about or how weird it is. As long as you’re talking, he’s as happy as a pig in slop!

Conversely, if you prefer silence or if you’re more introverted, Yasu will settle for cuddling with you while silent or talking less. Sometimes it’s nice to simply enjoy each other’s presence and take in the moment. Yasu just likes being around his S/O and prefers to have private time with them but make no mistake, there will be date nights aplenty in your relationship!

Although Yasu is a very busy man, he’ll always make time for you and is very reliable. If you ever need him for anything no matter how big or small, he’s there no matter what. If you’re the more independent type and prefer taking care of things yourself, then Yasu will respect that but he’ll still have your back regardless. Just from a behind-the-scenes perspective.

Yasu is quite serious as we all know but he does appreciate a good laugh every now and then. He has a healthy sense of humor and may or may not pull a prank or two on you so watch your back. Yes BLAST will definitely be his accomplices too. If you prank him back, Yasu will be laughing for days and it’ll be a great memory to look back on for him.

Yasu is pretty secretive and doesn’t really talk about anything that happened in his life before he met you. It’s not that he has anything to hide. He just doesn’t see why it matters. He kinda operates on a “need-to-know” basis and values privacy highly. He respects your privacy and wants the same in return. This can lead to many misunderstandings and arguments but they’re resolved quickly because of how mature and understanding Yasu is. If you want Yasu to open up, just ask!

Yasu isn’t one for taking risks and likes to play it safe and careful. Responsibility is a huge thing for him. This can make him seem kinda boring to people who are more lively and extroverted. Yasu does indeed have a wild side but prefers to release it in private which leads us to........

~~NSFW~~

When you and Yasu start sleeping together, he takes the slow, gentle, lovemaking route. He considers it the ultimate form of trust and therefore he wants to make sure you’re absolutely comfortable and feeling nothing but pleasure. Yasu doesn’t sleep with just anyone so if he’s having sex with you, consider it a privilege because he definitely values and trusts you more than he does most people.

One might assume that Yasu is vanilla in bed with the way he carries himself but he’s far from it. Deep down inside, he’s definitely a freak. But it takes a bit of coaxing to bring it out of him because Yasu doesn’t want to frighten you or make you uncomfortable. But once you convince him that it’s ok, oh boy are you in for some fun!

Yasu is definitely a dom and has a secret Daddy kink. He’s kind but firm with his Baby Girl and he always makes sure you’re left fully satisfied. Yasu loves to both give and receive praise so expect a lot of that! His voice alone will make you melt and he has a certain tone that he uses for damn near every occasion!

Yasu prefers to keep everything in the bedroom because it allows for maximum privacy. You’ll have to make the first move if you wanna do something risky. Yasu actually has some secret fantasies believe it or not! One of them is sucking him off while he’s working on his laptop or on the phone with someone. If you do this, Yasu will be flustered and will definitely return the favor.

While Yasu will definitely NOT have sex with you in the studio, he’s not against having sex with you in the dressing room or backstage after a concert! When that happens, expect the sex to be much rougher and faster. If you’re not having sex in the bedroom, you’ll be having a quickie. Sorry!

Having a safe word with Yasu is paramount because when he gets rough, he can get pretty brutal and ruthless. The last thing he wants to do is hurt you and respects your body and wishes to the highest degree. Yasu’s favorite positions include this, this, this, and this. He also loves spanking, bondage, sensation play, and body worship. You’ll never have a complaint in the bedroom with Yasu!

The best way to ensure that Yasu will be riled up is to tease and mess with him in public. Flash him discreetly, send him naughty pics and videos while he’s out and about, give him a handjob while he’s having drinks with his bandmates while you’re at it! When you two get home afterwards, Yasu will definitely be punishing you and when he’s done with you, you won’t be able to walk properly or sit for a week!

Yasu’s aftercare is amazing and will have you purring like a kitten. He’ll sing your praises, gently massage and tend to any sore areas, and make sure you’re feeling comfortable. But that won’t stop from leaving a mark or two on you that’s visible. If anyone asks, Yasu doesn’t know what they’re talking about and keeps his mouth shut. He doesn’t kiss and tell!

It’s rare that Yasu is the sub in bed but if he’s feeling particularly exhausted, he’ll let you take the reigns and pamper him for a change. Yasu will definitely appreciate it and love you even more for it! Sometimes he needs to be reminded that it’s ok for others to give to him too! Treat each other well and your relationship will be one for the record books!

[kpop-zone]

Dating JiU & Yoohyeon

A/N: I feel like I suck at writing headcanons, so I’m sorry if this is bad. It’s nothing personal, I love my soft girlfriends :D

Unrelated note: Can anyone else not stop watching Dreamcatcher’s Abracadabra dance cover??

Relationship

Not my GIF, credits to whoever made it

Having a polygamous relationship had never really been weird to either of them

They had found out pretty casually that they were both into you

All of you started out as friends

But one night due to the influence of some alcohol, Yoohyeon and Minji ended up gushing over you for hours

And they realized that they were both in love with you

For a second, they stared at each other helplessly

But then Yoohyeon plucked up all her courage, deciding to tell Minji the complete truth

“Um...you know, Y/N is actually not the only one that I like.”

 She mumbled eventually and confessed her feelings to Minji

Who was super relieved to know that she hadn’t just imagined the spark between the two of them

After all feelings had been disclosed, it was clear to them how to handle this situation

It would either be all of you, or no one

Yoohyeon was pretty confident though

In her mind, the three of you were already dating

Minji, on the other hand was a little more anxious

She was scared that you would resent them for their desire

Yoohyeon needed to give her a lot of reassurance until both of them were ready to confess to you

When they confessed eventually, they were a little nervous

So they were all giggly and needed a while to get their confession straight

But then their words were really sincere and heartfelt

You simply couldn’t turn them down

So the three of you hit it off

Due to already being friends for a while, there was no timid getting-to-know each other phase in your relationship

All of you knew about the quirks and weaknesses of each other

But also about the assets

From the moment you started dating the two of them, you could call yourself the master of having it all

Because your girlfriends have everything that you could ask for

They are beautiful, sweet, talented, hot, smart, funny, a little bit crazy...

More often than not, you find yourself contemplating how you had even managed to not only woo one but TWO goddesses

Minji is usually the mature and caring one in your relationship

She loves to take care of Yoohyeon and you

She has a particular soft spot for you though

While all of you like to tease each other

She is never too ruthless with you

Much to the dismay of Yoohyeon who is always defenseless against your alliance

Another manifestation of Minji’s soft spot for you is the way she spoils you

She always tells Yoohyeon to just buy herself some food on the way back home after a long day at work

When you complain about feeling hungry though, she doesn’t shy back from whipping out her cooking skills

Of course, Yoohyeon gets pouty in light of this preferential treatment of yours

But Minji always tells her that you were simply more deserving of sweet gestures

 Because you like to spoil your girls too

It’s the little things that make Minji happy

A note on her nightstand, remembering her coffee order, surprising her with lunch at work...

She doesn’t make big demands, but she always rewards you with an expression on her face that could make you believe that you had just bought her the sun

Yoohyeon, on the other hand, is interested in everything that is unusual

So you sometimes buy her stuff that might be a little weird to others

But you know that she loves it

Once you bought her an old film camera that belonged to a German woman a few decades back

After developing the film, she got super into German culture

And even started to learn German

Minji and you are always really impressed because Yoohyeon is just so smart

While being a clumsy, helpless baby simultaneously

But that is just one of the many reasons why the two of you love her

Yoohyeon is also the one who keeps the energy level of your relationship up at all times

She never sits still and always has a thousand ideas for not so cute dates

Sometimes her dates are a complete success even though they are unusual

For example, when she took you to an abandoned amusement park

And you had a photoshoot and a cute picknick together

But once, she dragged you to a “cool magic show”

Only for you to end up at a weird cult meeting

Nevertheless, Minji and you seldomly say no to her suggestions

Both of you know that Yoohyeon means well

She just loves the two of you so much and wouldn’t mind spending every living minute of hers with you

 Which is why she always wants to convince you to accompany them on their tours

Neither her nor Minji consider their relationship complete when you are not with them

 Therefore, you receive a lot of text messages and cute videos when they leave you behind

Yoohyeon never hides how much she misses you

Minji, on the other hand, usually gets really quiet when the separation is getting too hard for her

Until her feelings eventually get the better of her and she needs your comfort

Both of them always make sure that you know that the two of them are incomplete without you

Therefore, jealousy plays absolutely no role in your relationship

You are really honest with each other and your feelings are always fully disclosed

There’s not one duo that has a stronger bond than the others

You are all equally connected by love

And neither of you can stand it when you are apart

That’s why you always savor the times that you are together to the fullest

Therefore, your love is also very obvious to see for everyone else

Yoohyeon is the one who’s least afraid to show your relationship publicly

Not that she would be able to keep her hands to herself anyways

She’s the one that gets the angriest whenever strangers look at you derogatory

Minji on the other hand is a little more careful

Not necessarily because she’s ashamed of your relationship

But because she often wants to seem like a mature and well-mannered adult in public

So she keeps the PDA at a bare minimum

Eventually, however, her façade always ends up crumbling

And her goofy, clingy self comes to light

She’s just a sucker for soft touches

So she will gently run her fingertips up and down your arms, put her hands on your thighs or simply intertwine your fingers

But she is not only in charge of the soft aspects in your relationship

She also has a wild and slightly crazy side to her

And it’s the times when she chooses to show it that the three of you have the most fun

You can be so LOUD and reckless when no one is there to tame you

Especially because you are so comfortable around each other

Shyness is not a word in your vocabulary

All of you know that you can share your weirdest thoughts with each other

There is no judgement in your relationship

Therefore, you feel completely comfortable when you are around your girlfriends

No matter whether you are cute or crazy together, you know that you are safe in the presence of each other

Your relationship is just filled with love, laughter and trust

And you couldn’t imagine ever living without either of your girlfriends anymore

NSFW

Not my GIF, credits to whoever made it

Queens of duality

Your sex is either cute and giggly

Or hot and kinky

That completely depends on your girlfriends’ moods

When they return from a tight schedule, they are usually beat for a few days

Which doesn’t change anything about their high sex drive though

Physical touch is a very important part of your relationship

So they are always very touch starved when they come back home

Which leads to some intense cuddle sessions that always turn to something more

They love to put you in the center of attention

Because both of them feel sorry for leaving you behind

They try to make it up to you by whispering sweets nothings into your ear while caressing your whole body

The mood is never too sensual though

Because one of you will end up saying something funny

But no one is really bothered by that

You love to laugh together in intimate moments like that

And neither of you is a fan of monotony anyways, so you like that not a single night is ever like the other

One thing that is for sure though is that you are in for a long time

Both, Minji and Yoohyeon, like to take their time with you

And they are a well attuned team

They know every single weak spot on your body and how to work it

While one pays attention to one of them, the other takes care of another

Generally, you enjoy really slow and vanilla sex after they return from an exhausting schedule

That changes though when their energy levels are up again

Sex during those times is a lot rougher and also a little chaotic

Because there is no clear distribution of roles

It’s always a surprise who will take control

Yoohyeon can be a bratty bottom

She loves to test her limits and to get put into her place

But she also loves to take control, especially because she is usually the one who suggest trying new things

Minji can be somewhat of a pillow princess when she’s in the mood

But neither Yoohyeon nor you mind

Because Minji is usually the one taking care of the two of you on a daily basis, you like to take your sweet time with her in bed to repay her

But when her wild side is activated, she won’t let Yoohyeon nor you take control

She likes to give orders and won’t accept anything less than complete obedience

Might have a mommy kink too

Both, Yoohyeon and Minji, can be big teases

It gives them a lot of pleasure to see you getting frustrated

Although neither of them ever takes it too far

That also applies to toys, BDSM and other kinks

While neither of them shies back from getting a little experimental in bed (as long as everyone is ok with it, you don’t really have boundaries)

They don’t enjoy seeing either of you hurt or too frustrated

And while they love to leave their marks (especially on you), it’s usually only hickeys and maybe a few light scratches, nothing more

After all of you have tired each other out to your satisfaction, you always end up in an intertwined ball of limbs

Because soft cuddles and pillow talks are a must

Even if all of you are already half-asleep, you will mumble trivial things until all of you drift off into a deep slumber

You’re just a bunch of softies with a wild side

[omg-imagine]

⊱ Drabble #3 ⊰

Pairing: Keanu Reeves x Reader

Prompts:

51- “I missed you so much.”

53- “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

Words: 1.6k

Warning: fluff, smut

A/N: Not really a drabble lol. I also went full on with the smut here. Hope you like it!

Requested by @eevee-of-rivia​ ♡

The house sat still, cold and empty, the late-night chorus of crickets sounding from an open window, its irritating tune echoing in the hushed atmosphere. For what seemed like hours, you tossed and turned under the warm silken sheets, incredibly restless and deeply yearning for precious sleep to come soon.

Sighing, you flipped over to lay on the left side— Keanu’s side— of the bed. It was dull, uneventful evenings such as this which made you miss your husband a bit more than usual. Undoubtedly, if he were home right now, the night would have been more pleasant. You always slept so soundly with Keanu, feeling loved and secure with him curled up behind you, holding you close.

As expected, your mind continued drifting off to thoughts of him, silently wondering what he was up to at this hour. Though Keanu had sent you a few texts here and there, today had been the first time he couldn’t call you from where he was on the other side of the world, his packed shooting schedule this week taking up most of his energy and focus.

You couldn’t blame Keanu, of course. Even though there had been many, many times when you wished you and him weren’t separated by thousands of miles, the long absences were sadly part of his job. Over the years, you had learned to accept it, but that didn’t stop you from feeling so lonesome throughout the day, wanting nothing more than to see him and hear his voice.

Finally, fatigue took over, and you eventually succumbed to sleep with the slight hope of seeing Keanu in your dreams, just like every night. For tonight, your consciousness conjured up a familiar scenario; a vivid memory, to be exact. It brought you back to the day almost six years ago when you and Keanu exchanged vows on a sandy beach near the bright, blue Pacific waters; in a ceremony that was intimate and perfect, filled with so much joy and love. 

As your dream-self stood there holding Keanu’s hands, anticipating your first kiss as husband and wife, the scene around you began to melt away, your physical body rousing from its deep slumber and emerging into the real world. 

Carefully, your eyes fluttered open, your brain still thick with sleep as you observed your dark surroundings. That’s when you heard it—the sound of the wooden floorboards creaking as if someone were walking out in the hall.

Sitting up on the mattress, you let out a scream when the door suddenly cracked open, and a shadowed man came into the room. Then you heard him say your name, and it took you less than a second to figure out who it truly was.

“Keanu?” You uttered as you reached over to turn on the light, your racing heart soon relaxing.

At first, you couldn’t believe what you were seeing. You wondered if you were still asleep; if this was merely part of your dream. But when Keanu approached the edge of the bed, his kind cocoa-hued orbs gazing down at you, you were then convinced that this was actually happening. 

This was all real.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare—”

You didn’t allow Keanu to finish his sentence. Without warning, you jumped out of the covers and quickly scrambled towards him, pushing yourself up on your knees to kiss him. Capturing his neck in your arms, his lips were soft and sweet as they tenderly, perfectly molded to yours. Running out of air, you pulled away from him but not too far, letting your fingers weave through the ends of his raven locks.

“I missed you,” you spoke, your voice light and airy as the corners of your mouth lifted to form a smile. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you, too,” Keanu beamed, placing his lips on yours once more. “I hope you don’t mind me coming home unannounced. I just thought it would be a lovely surprise if I didn’t tell you.”

“It’s a lovely surprise, indeed. Even though you gave me a fright back there, I’m happy that you’re here.”

With a bright grin, Keanu wrapped his arms around your body, drawing you in close as you sank into his warm embrace. Closing your eyes, you could feel him nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck, trailing the gentlest of kisses along the side. You hummed in delight while his mouth slowly traveled upwards, his lips grazing your ear as he murmured, “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

“Hmm, what about exactly?” you questioned Keanu teasingly as he urged you to lie back in bed, positioning himself to hover above you.

“Well, for starters, I thought of doing this…”

A shiver ran down your spine as the large palm of his hand caressed your body, gliding smoothly over your thin, silky nightgown before pushing the garment up and off. Lustful gaze unwavering, Keanu’s fingertips ran alongside the skin of your inner thigh, inching them closer to your heated core. You inhaled sharply when you felt him massaging your sensitive nub through your panties, a smirk flashing across his face knowing that his simple touch could quickly reduce you to a needy mess.

“I imagined this moment during the entire flight, and it made me so hard just thinking about it.”

His words were somewhat of a loss when he swiftly rid you of your underwear and moved down your body, pressing his face towards your warmth. Hot breaths of air softly fanning over your cunt, you couldn’t hold back the moans escaping you as Keanu’s wet tongue delved into your aching pussy, two of his thick digits stroking, teasing your inner walls.

“I missed the way you taste,” Keanu cooed as you writhed helplessly against his strong hold, teetering dangerously on the precipice of climax. “I missed how tight you are around my fingers, my cock. God, I can’t wait to feel you around me.”

“P-Please,” you whimpered, lifting your head to meet his eyes which were filled with urgent desperation to touch, to feel. It had been too long since he’d given you this much pleasure; the late-night, steamy phone calls were incomparable to the real deal. “I want you inside me, baby. I can’t wait anymore, please.”

In an instant, Keanu pushed backwards, removing his fingers from your pussy, and you whined at the loss. You felt like you were half-delirious, your mind utterly stuck in a pleasure-drunk haze. Watching as your husband stripped off his clothes, your heart began to soar seeing his bare body. Your eyes shamelessly roamed over his entirety, sighing softly at the sight of the beautiful man before you. 

Finally, Keanu removed his boxer shorts, the last barrier separating you from all his glory, and you couldn’t help but admire his gorgeous cock, hardened and glistening because of you, just for you.

Wordlessly, he crawled back up to you, his body settling between your legs as your lips met in pure haste, kissing each other fiercely, almost frantically. Releasing a gasp, you felt Keanu’s member pressed against your entrance, its swollen rosy tip slicked with your juices. Breaths mingling together in short pants, you moaned at the delicious burning sensation of him pushing inside in one slow, measured thrust. He paused for a beat, allowing you to get used to his size, only proceeding once you gave him a nod.

“I missed this,” Keanu husked, his hips moving at a tantalizing pace. “I missed you.”

Bodies moving as one, the bed under you creaked with every thrust, the sound of skin slapping against skin mixing with the moans falling from your lips. Keanu’s girthy length stretched you out exquisitely. Each timed stroke became harder, rougher, and deeper, the growing coil of tension within you now starting to fall apart, and you looked up at him, knowing full well that he too was close.

“I love you,” he whispered in between staccato breaths, his movements becoming more erratic, his self-control slipping.

You gazed into Keanu’s dark, heavy-lidded eyes, his mouth slightly agape as a bead of sweat dripped from his quivering brow. Reaching a hand down, you hissed in pleasure when Keanu rubbed at your clit, dragging your nails over his back as he continuously hit that sweet, sweet spot deep inside you.

Within seconds, you began to tremble underneath him, spasming and tightening around his cock as you wailed softly, riding out your high. Grunting out your name, Keanu buried his face in your neck, giving a few final stuttering thrusts before finding his own release, pumping spurt after spurt of his thick creamy cum inside, a sated smile gracing both of your lips.

A minute passed, and so did several more. Soon, your ragged breaths steadied, your heaving chests returning to a calmed state. With a loving kiss, Keanu slowly slipped himself out, his tired body collapsing next to yours as you shifted to lie on your side, facing him. Staring adoringly at his gentle features, you felt your eyes beginning to drift close, though you tried to fight the sleep creeping in.

“It’s okay,” Keanu soothed when he noticed your drowsiness. “Go to sleep. I’ll be here next to you when you wake up.”

“Promise?” You asked in a muted tone, watching as he threw the duvet over to cover your bareness before turning off the lamp, darkness instantly enveloping the room.

Planting one last gentle kiss to your forehead, Keanu then snuggled closer, and you basked in the warmth surrounding you. “I promise.”

Content with his answer, you finally let the exhaustion take over, both your heart and mind now at ease knowing you would be peacefully asleep all night, held by the arms of the one you love the most, Keanu.

Permanent Tags: @penwieldingdreamer​ @keandrews​ @feminine-machinegun​ @fanficsrusz​ @thehumanistsdiary​ @rdjloverxxx​ @flaminasteroid​ @lussdew​

[bubonickitten]

Summary: Jon goes back to before the world ended and tries to forge a different path.

Previous chapter: AO3 // tumblr

Chapter 14 full text & content warnings below the cut.

Note: There are text messages in this one. The AO3 posting uses a custom work skin to format them. I’m going to upload them as images for the Tumblr post. Might be easiest to read on AO3, though. (Particularly if you use a screen reader or have difficulty reading white text on green backgrounds and need to highlight those portions of text.)

Content warnings for Chapter 14: Buried-typical elements (claustrophobia, inability to breathe/move, etc.); mention of past suicidal ideation; some anxiety/panic symptoms; brief description of a past depressive episode; relatively mild blood/injury; swears; some Unsettling Spider Trivia (personally I think it’s fascinating but if you don’t like spiders maybe just skip a bit ahead when you get to that part). SPOILERS through Season 5.

Chapter 14: Up and Out

Much like the ebb and flow of the Buried, that sensation of being pulled vacillates. A few times now, it’s disappeared almost entirely, leaving Jon disorientated and suddenly doubting whether he’s headed in the right direction despite being certain only moments before. It always comes back before long, but each time it’s happened, he’s had to pause to fight down the knee-jerk influx panic.

Right this moment, he’s stopped – both because that sensation is dwindling again and because he’s simply winded. They’ve been in a particularly tight squeeze for quite some time now, and he’s aching and exhausted from the struggle.

“Jon?” Daisy prompts, panting even more heavily than he is. Nearly eight months of muscular atrophy and restricted lung capacity haven’t done any favors for her stamina. “A-are you okay?”

“Yeah. Just – just taking a break. Getting my bearings.”

“Anchor f-fading again?” He has a feeling she was aiming for casual, but the trepidation creeps into her voice anyway.

“Yes. But don’t worry, I’ll find it again. I just need to catch my breath.”

Daisy laughs. It comes out as some combination of a wheeze and a whimper.

“I d-don’t think I’ve been able to catch my breath in… I – I don’t know how long.”

“You will soon,” he promises, rubbing circles on the back of her hand with his thumb.

“I – I c-can barely remember what that’s like. F-feels like I’ll never know it again –”

“I know,” he says gently, “I know. I – I know it’s worse for you – you’ve been here longer – but I do remember that feeling. I promise I’ll get us out of here.”

“And – and then what?” she says in a near-whisper. “The – the Hunt, it – it’s going to come back, isn’t it?”

“Yes. I’m sorry. But – but you’ll still be you, and I’ll still be me, and we’ll – we’ll both fight to keep it that way.”

“I – I never thought about it, b-but – I’m prey too, aren’t I?” Daisy makes a noise that straddles the line somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “It – it’ll always chase me down, and it’s – stronger, f-faster –”

“Maybe, but I think you might be more stubborn.” Daisy gives a weak chuckle. “We all are, aren’t we?” Jon continues, emboldened by her reaction and intent on distracting her from her burgeoning panic. “Wonder if it’s somewhere in the job requirements: must be stubborn, curious, and preternaturally unlucky.”

This time, Daisy actually does laugh – clipped and wet with barely-contained tears, but a laugh all the same. For a minute she’s quiet, before sniffling once and clearing her throat.

“Can you tell me what happened last time? Did I – was I able to…”

“You fought it, yes,” he says slowly. “The call of the blood was always in the background. Distractions helped to take the edge off, sometimes. You spent most of your time with Basira. You and I spent a lot of time together, too. Tried to listen to the quiet. Both of us.”

“It sounds like there’s a ‘but.’”

“There is,” he admits.

“It caught up to me,” Daisy guesses, sounding resigned.

“It did. But… you refused it right up until the point where it was your last resort. The Institute was under attack, and Martin was in danger, and the two of you stayed behind to deal with the threat to buy me time enough to find him. A pair of Hunters cornered you. Basira couldn't take them both, and you… were too weakened from resisting the Hunt to stand a chance against either of them. You let the Hunt back in because it was the only way you could protect Basira. You made her promise to find you and kill you when it was over, and you told her to run.”

“Do you – do you think if not for that, I would have kept resisting? Or was I just – using that as an excuse to give in?”

“I don’t know,” Jon says truthfully. He hesitates, attempting to balance honesty with tact. “You were wasting away. We all thought that refusing to feed the Hunt might kill you eventually. But whenever the subject came up, you said you were willing to die rather than let it back in. You were – adamant. And I… think you would have followed through on it. Resisting, I mean. Even if it meant dying.”

“I see,” she murmurs.

“Actually, it’s – probably morbid to say, but I envied your resolve. You didn’t want to be a predator again. You thought death was preferable to being lost to the blood. Right up until the end.” He shakes his head. “But – but maybe we can find a – a different way. Me coming back has already changed some things that I thought were inevitable. Just – don’t give up hope?”

Daisy makes a noise of acknowledgement, but Jon can’t glean anything else from it.

“I know it sounds bleak, and – and maybe it is. But for what it’s worth, I’ll be right there with you. I’m not taking live statements this time around, and it – has similar effects on me that refusing the Hunt does for you. Reading old statements takes the edge off, sometimes, but based on past experience, it… won’t be sustainable, and I’ll – have to cross that bridge when I get to it, I suppose. It’s not exactly the same, obviously – our patrons operate in different ways – but it did… help, last time, having someone nearby who knew what it was like.”

“You… know things now, right?”

“It’s… complicated. There are a lot of constraints and” – he huffs – “I don’t have as much control over it as everyone wishes I did, but… yes.”

“Any educated guesses on our chances?”

“None,” Jon says with a grim half-smile. “The Beholding tends to be uncooperative when it comes to concepts like escape and recovery. I won’t lie – marks don’t fade, and as far as I can tell, once someone is fully an Avatar, there’s no undoing it. You embrace it, or you wither away. You feed it, or it feeds on you.”

“Sounds about right.”

“But,” Jon says emphatically, “you should also know that no one had ever escaped the Buried before we did. And we’re about to do it again. So… who knows. Maybe there’s a third option and we just haven’t found it yet. I can’t promise there’s another way, but if there is… we’ll find it.”

“Or die trying?” Daisy replies, a wry edge to her tone now.

“Suppose so. But not without making a nuisance of ourselves first. I still don’t Know if the Fears are sentient, but on the off chance they are, I find that spite is a decent motivator.”

“Naturally.” Daisy snorts. “I wonder what annoys the Hunt?”

“Don’t know. Fraternizing with someone who was marked as prey, maybe. You told me once that on bad days, my blood was the loudest thing in the Archives. We theorized the Hunt wasn’t too keen on you letting me go.”

“You… weren’t you afraid I’d turn on you?”

“No.”

“Is that because you were suicidal, or because you honestly thought I wouldn’t kill you?”

“I wasn’t –” Jon sighs. “My mental state aside, I trusted you. You were as stubborn as I was. Maybe more. Even if we weren’t friends, I imagine you’d have snubbed the Hunt anyway, just on principle.”

Before Daisy can reply, the earth around them begins to shake again, soil coming loose and raining down on them from above. They both hold their breath, waiting for the impending crush – but it doesn’t come, and after a few seconds, they exhale simultaneously. Jon’s comes out as something of a cough, jolted out of him by the now-familiar sensation of an insistent upward pull.

“Anchor’s back,” he gasps out. “Ready to move?”

As they move forward – up, Jon assures himself, we’re making progress – the perpetual squeeze begins to open up into a narrow passageway. Sometimes they need to dig to bypass blockages and widen their tunnel, but the closer they draw to the surface, the hard-packed earth gradually gives way to looser soil.

Between one moment and the next, Jon’s fingertips – already raw and bleeding from burrowing through the debris – scrape against something much harder and rougher than packed earth. Solid rock, hidden by a few inches of soil. He hisses as he feels another layer of skin peel away at the abrasive texture, but he brightens at the memory of the stone steps and walls at the entrance to the Buried.

“We’re getting close, Daisy,” he says excitedly, tugging on her hand. “We’re almost there –”

The Buried compresses in a blink, crushing them up against one another.

“Shit,” Jon hisses. “Shouldn’t’ve said anything.”

“Jon?” Daisy says, her voice pitched higher than usual, shot through with barely concealed panic.

“It’s okay, Daisy. This happened the last time, too. Just” – the earth contracts further, forcing a whine out of him – “wringing one last bit of t-terror out of us before we leave.”

“Th-that’s – greedy of it,” she rasps with a nervous chuckle.

“I find that – a-all the Powers tend to be – like that. Needy, spiteful things, all – all of them.”

So do their Avatars, for that matter. He thinks of how Helen couldn’t resist frightening him one last time before parting ways at Hill Top Road; of how Jude Perry knew she was going to die and chose to spend her last moments pulling him down to her level; of how Manuela Dominguez knew she had failed, but still wanted to take someone out with her; of how Peter Lukas couldn’t lose a bet gracefully, how he dragged Martin into the Lonely and tried to trap Jon there as well; of how Jonah wasn’t content to just have Jon read out his ritual, but had to hijack Jon’s voice to monologue first.

And Jon himself isn’t all that different, is he? Didn’t he force himself to confront Jonah in the Panopticon, even though he knew it would have no impact on anything? Doesn’t he regularly provoke the Eye with small acts of rebellion? How many times has he mouthed off to an assailant threatening his life? He just said it himself: spite can be a decent motivator. Failing that, sometimes it just feels satisfying.

“It’ll – let up,” Jon says, for himself as much as Daisy. “J-just – give it a minute.”

As if to be contrary, it actually takes several minutes before the pressure begins to withdraw. Slowly, so very slowly, the collapsed tunnel begins to expand again, releasing another downpour of dirt in the process. The passage is still tight and they have to squirm through in small increments, but after some of the squeezes they passed through on their way, even a few extra centimeters of wiggle room feels like a luxury.

That said, Daisy’s breathing is increasingly labored, punctuated by soft whimpers.

“You doing alright, Daisy?”

“Y-yeah, ‘m fine.” Her breath catches and comes out as a pained groan. “Chest hurts,” she says brusquely, before Jon can express concern.

“Your lungs aren’t accustomed to having this much room to expand,” he says instead, striving for a bland tone.

“W-well, they’ll just h-have to – get used to it.”

“They will, but – take it slow? Last time, you had a fair amount of bruising. A few cracked ribs as well. We both did.”

In fact, he thinks they might just be the exact same ribs he injured last time, if the pain is anything to go by.

“Listen,” he says, “I – I think we’re coming up on the exit soon.”

“Soon soon?”

“Fairly certain, yes. Before we leave, I should tell you – Elias doesn’t know that I’m from the future, doesn’t know how much we know, and I’d prefer to keep it that way as long as possible. He can’t See us while we’re in here, but as soon as we’re out – the only safe place is the tunnels, like before.”

“Got it.”

“And also, I…” Not much for it, he tells himself. Make your peace with it now. “I might lose my voice again as soon as we’re out. Maybe – maybe even before then.”

“Again?”

“I – I mean, I’ll be able to talk, just – not in my own words.” Jon tries to wet his lips and immediately regrets it, succeeding only in drawing more dirt into his mouth. He grimaces and sputters a bit, to no avail.

“Jon?”

“Y-yeah, sorry. I, ah – remember what I said, about – about the Archive? I’ve – outside of here, I’ve only been able to speak using the statements in my… library, I suppose.”

He says the last part with distaste, all but spitting the words out as if they’re poison.

“Huh.”

“It started partway through the apocalypse, and it followed me when I came back. Being in the Buried’s domain has cut me off from the Archive for now, but once the Eye can reach me again, I – there’s a chance it’ll take over again.” He sighs. “More than a chance, it’s – probably more of a certainty. I just wanted to let you know now, I – I’m still me, it’s just – the Archive puts limits on how I communicate, and it can be – off-putting. And annoying. And… abhorrent.”

“Abhorrent?”

“I mean… appropriating other people’s trauma any time I want to speak? It’s…”

There’s no succinct way to capture just how – how perverse it is, exploiting the words of the people who lived through the horrors retold in the statements. Some of them, Jon himself victimized. More than some, if he considers the billions he condemned in his future. Claiming their terror for his own use doesn’t feel all that different from actually taking statements: dehumanizing, objectifying, degrading. It’s all on the same ghoulish spectrum of monstrosity, just… slightly different shades of wrong.

All he says aloud, though, is the last part: “It’s wrong.”

And yet, you do it anyway, he thinks, disgusted with himself.

“Like going from one hell to another, isn’t it?” Daisy says after a pause. “Getting out of here, only for the Eye and – and the Hunt to be waiting on the other side.”

“Yeah. As much as I want to get out of here, I’m… not looking forward going back to – to that.” He sighs, then rallies himself. “But fresh air and a drink of water do sound nice, don’t they?”

“And a bath,” Daisy says, as if it’s the most beautiful word in the world. Jon laughs quietly.

“The Institute only has the one shower, I’m afraid. No tub, terrible water pressure, occasionally –”

“– occasionally runs cold without warning mid-shower,” Daisy finishes, an audible grin in her tone. “I recall. You won’t hear me complaining, though.”

“Nor me. Not for the next couple weeks, anyway.”

“Mm. Yeah, I’m sure you’ll hear me swearing up a storm at four in the morning about water temperature at some point.”

“Assuming that trivial detail hasn’t changed since I was last here, yes, I will,” Jon says with an amused chuff. He readjusts his grip on her hand and tugs gently. “Come on, we’re getting closer.”

Martin sits in his office, head in his hands and the heels of his palms pressed to his eyes.

Eight days. It’s been eight days since Jon went into the Coffin, there have been no signs of when – if – he’ll return, and there’s nothing Martin can do to reach him.

Stupid, he thinks fiercely, to think that sitting there and talking to a – a box of dirt would do anything.

Keeping vigil at Jon’s bedside at the hospital for months had done nothing to bring him back. Why would this be any different? When Martin’s predictions panned out, he felt almost vindicated that he was right – comforted by the confirmation that he is still all alone in the world, relieved by the reassurance that nothing will disturb his solitude after all.

There’s a part of him that still has the decency to feel ashamed at that impulse, but it’s small and distant and shrinking by the day. And yet… it’s still there, withered though it may be: a sentimental sliver of attachment that stubbornly refuses to die, both to his dismay and – to a lesser but nonetheless undeniable extent – his relief. No matter how pessimistic his outlook has become these days, he had still hoped against all the odds that reaching out to Jon would have some sort of effect.

It didn’t. Of course it didn’t. That sort of hopeless romanticism is for fairytales. Sure, given the existence of extradimensional fear entities, it isn’t inconceivable that some sort of… long distance psychic bond, or link, or – or whatever could exist. But Martin has yet to see any evidence pointing to the existence of powers like hope and love to balance out the existence of Smirke’s Fourteen.

That admission alone is enough to whittle away at that stubborn sentimentality of his just a little further.

And that’s for the best, he tells himself.

He can feel a bitter smile flicker at the corner of his mouth. The Lonely’s really got its hold on him, hasn’t it?

But no matter how well-suited he is to the Lonely, no matter how resigned he is to the idea that he’s destined to be alone, and that that’s exactly as it should be… Martin still cares for Jon. His emotions feel dulled most days, as if they’re happening to someone else, but the act of caring… he doesn’t have to feel in order to go through the motions. It takes effort and thought, certainly, but the impulse is second nature.

Peter tells him that he’ll be free of it before long. Martin doesn’t know how he feels about that. Nothing, usually, or something adjacent to it.

Apparently he hadn’t cauterized his feelings as much as he’d thought, though. For the past week, the sense of detachment he’s built up over months of practice and resignation and goal-oriented focus has been interrupted. The calm and quiet that have become so comfortable to him have been punctuated by windows of raw, wild emotion and sensory overload and sharp, racing thoughts, and it’s too much – especially all at once – after months of fog and cold and single-minded resolve.

He still doesn’t know what he feels, but it’s something rather than nothing, and it hurts.

“Brooding, are we?” comes a voice from right behind Martin, sending an icy chill through him.

“Peter!” Martin nearly snarls, glaring over his shoulder at him. “I told you to stop doing that –”

“So, Martin,” Peter continues, smoothly overriding Martin’s complaints, “I can’t help but notice you’ve been quite… distracted recently.”

Martin looks away, clenches his teeth, and says nothing.

“Oh, I’m not upset, Martin. I’m simply curious to know where we stand. To gauge the magnitude of this… little setback.”

“Setback?” Martin whips back around, incensed. “You really think I care about – about my progress right now?”

“Judging by your tone, I imagine not.” Peter smiles, that customary aloof smirk that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Not very reassuring, but I thank you for your honesty. It shows that we do still have our work cut out for us.”

Martin should keep his composure. He should keep his mouth shut. He should feign indifference and continue playing the long game to which he’s committed himself, but he can feel his heart hammering in his chest and he can hear his blood rushing in his ears and all the words he cannot – should not – has to say are brimming in his throat and –

He almost doesn’t recognize his own voice when the outburst claws its way out.

“I don’t care, Peter. You promised –”

“That I would protect your coworkers from external threats,” Peter says mildly.

“You don’t think one of the Circus’s monsters just – waltzing unnoticed into the Archives hauling a bloody gateway to the – the literal manifestation of claustrophobia counts as an external threat –”

“By the time the intruder’s presence came to my attention, it had already been dealt with. Quite handily, in fact. As for the Coffin itself, our agreement did not extend to saving a self-destructive Archivist from his own foolhardiness. There’s only so much that I can do.”

“Then apparently I need to pick up your slack.”

Once again, Peter ignores him and steers the conversation to his liking.

“I will say, I was pleased to see that the Coffin’s call has no effect on you. It shows that your connection to the Forsaken is still intact.” Peter begins to pace slowly, hands folded behind his back. “I am interested to know why you’ve been spending so much time so close to it in the first place. Why you were… speaking to it.”

Martin huffs irritably. “I thought it might help.”

“I wonder where you got that idea.” When Martin doesn’t reply, Peter stops his pacing and sighs. “I don’t mean to be invasive” – Martin snorts derisively; Peter continues without pause – “but I notice you’ve spoken to that – woman quite a few times.”

“She’s no one,” Martin says hurriedly, hoping that Peter doesn’t notice his momentary nervous flinch.

“Is that so?” Peter gives a contemplative hum. “If she’s trespassing on Institute property and interfering with day-to-day operations, perhaps I should have her… removed.”

All at once, the world around Martin rushes into focus: clearer, sharper, brighter, louder, more real – every sensation more immediate, every thought more acute. He feels his spine go rigid as he sits up straight and locks eyes with Peter.

“Peter,” he says, balanced on a razor’s edge between firm and furious, “we talked about that. You agreed to let me handle –”

“Workplace disputes and employee conduct,” Peter says. “Not interlopers.”

‘Interlopers’? Martin thinks. Really, Peter?

“Here I thought you might be glad to have someone like her around,” he says, forcing calm back into his voice. “Give me some practice pushing people away.”

“Perhaps. But if she’s posing a distraction in the workplace –”

“Like the Archives aren’t a distraction all on their own,” Martin seethes, his impassivity quickly teetering into agitation again, “what with the – the spooky murder tunnels, and monster attacks, and clandestine coffin deliveries, and the watching –”

“You know what I meant. If she’s distracting you from your work –”

“When have I ever left any administrative tasks unfinished, hmm?”

“Martin.”

“Yes?” Martin says, meeting Peter’s eyes with a level stare. There’s a muscle twitching almost imperceptibly in the other man’s jaw. It’s not easy to provoke that sort of response from Peter, and Martin would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t feel just a bit gratified.

Peter takes a breath and when he speaks again, he’s regained his usual mild manner – but Martin can still detect just a hint of tension underneath.

“As I have told you before, you are the only one who can do this. The plan –”

“Which you have yet to explain –”

“– requires a servant of the Eye, imbued with the power of the Lonely. And the cultivation of that power depends on your voluntary isolation. I can’t force you to cooperate, Martin. I can only tell you of the consequences should the Extinction emerge – and if it emerges because you choose not to act, then, well…” Peter shrugs. “You can’t keep anyone safe from that sort of power, and that includes the Archivist.”

“You still haven’t convinced me that your theories regarding the Extinction are true.”

If anything, Martin is less convinced than ever. Jon didn’t exactly elaborate on what he knows, but he seems certain that the Extinction isn’t a threat. If that’s the case, the only other reason for Martin to cooperate with Peter is to keep Jon safe – or, barring that, to at least keep Peter away from him. And if Jon is gone, then… what’s the point of any of this?

Peter takes a step closer and slides a folder onto Martin’s desk. Judging by how thin it is, Martin doubts there’s much follow-up or supplementary material within.

“Then you’d best get reading,” Peter says amiably, backing away again.

“Peter,” Martin says, stopping him before he can take his leave.

“Hm?”

“If she disappears,” he continues, mirroring Peter’s faux-pleasant tone, “you can count on my non-cooperation going forward.”

“Come now, Martin. We both know you wouldn’t allow the Extinction to emerge over a single life.”

Martin lifts his chin defiantly and gives Peter a hard look.

“I’d do it for Jon.”

“And he’s gone.” There is an almost hungry glint in Peter’s pale eyes. The temperature plummets a few degrees as thin tendrils of fog begin to unfurl from around his feet. “You’re alone.”

“Exactly.” Peter’s smug expression wavers at Martin’s non-reaction. “You’re a gambler. Shouldn’t you recognize when you’ve shown your hand?” Martin shakes his head with a thin, humorless smile. The mist creeps closer: wispy eddies and grasping coils stretching across the floor to pool at Martin’s feet. “If Jon’s gone, you’ve lost your best bargaining chip. I’ve nothing left to lose. At this point, you really should be thankful for whatever leverage you can find.”

“You’re bluffing.”

“Try me.”

Peter simply chuckles, but Martin can detect the faint uncertainty laced through it.

“I mean it. If my work performance is unsatisfactory, just feed me to your patron now if you can’t resist. Seems a waste to do it before you’ve gotten what you need from me, but it makes no difference to me; I’m Forsaken either way.” He leans back in his chair. “The only one who stands to lose anything is you.”

“And the entire world, should the Extinction evolve unchecked.”

“In that case, let her – let everyone connected with the Archives be. And don’t disappear any more staff, either.” Almost as an afterthought, he adds: “Or statement givers.”

There is a long silence in which Martin stares into Peter’s eyes, willing himself not to blink or falter. Eventually, the fog recedes and Peter’s fake, plastered-on smile reappears.

“Well, I think I’ve kept you from your work long enough.” Peter nods at the statement folder. “I’ll leave you to it.”

The moment the telltale static of Peter’s departure fades, Martin lets out a heavy exhale and rests his head in his arms on his desk. Every encounter with Peter tends to leave him feeling drained, but that one was more intense than usual.

“Prick,” Martin mutters to the empty office.

It takes a few minutes for him to register the low whirring coming from underneath his desk.

“Were you listening the whole time, then?” Martin scoops up the tape recorder from the floor. “Or,” he sighs, his eyes flicking to the waiting statement, “are you just hungry?”

Martin still doesn’t know what to make of the recorders. On the one hand, supernatural artefacts never bode well. There’s no telling what’s they are, what’s listening on the other end, what controls their spontaneous appearance or why. Eavesdropping and surveillance are on brand for the Eye, but Jon had a point when he said that the Beholding would have no need to use tape recorders to listen in, especially within its own temple. They weren’t Elias’s doing – apparently all of his spying is done through eyes. The Web, maybe? But to what end?

On the other hand, Martin has grown so accustomed to their presence that he was actually unsettled by their absence while Jon was – away. When they started manifesting again, Martin was… relieved, almost. It isn’t the same as having Jon nearby, but it feels like having a connection to him all the same. They’ve almost become a welcoming, comforting sight – at least for the first few seconds after their appearance, before they start making their usual demands.

Sometimes, Martin wonders whether Jon might be subconsciously manifesting them himself. Even before his paranoid episode, he seemed keen to document and catalog the world around him, as if it was the only way for him to make sense of it all. It made Martin's heart ache, how Jon could never seem to relax, to let himself just be in the moment. His hypervigilance was exhausting by proxy, and it’s only gotten worse as time goes on.

In any case, ever since Jon’s coma – half-death? – proved that the recorders’ existence is dependent on his, Martin has started to see their regular appearances as decent indicators as to whether Jon is alive at any given moment. And here they are, still showing up. Which means… what? Martin already knew that Jon is still alive. The Coffin doesn’t let its victims die; death would be a release, and it's incompatible with a realm predicated on unending pressure, on the experience of being trapped with no hope of escape. But if Jon was entirely cut off from the world, lost and unreachable, wouldn’t his connection with the recorders be severed as well? So, if they’re still here, does that mean Jon isn’t gone yet? That there’s still a lifeline tethering him to the surface?

If so, it’s a useless lifeline, isn’t it? The tapes always make their way to Jon in time, but what good does that do in this situation? It’s not like they’re two-way radios; Martin can’t communicate with Jon in real time.

Unless…

No. No unless. It’s not even a long shot, it’s just – daft.

But hasn’t he already been treating them as stand-ins for Jon for the last few weeks? And is it really any more foolish than talking to a coffin?

Martin sighs as he eyes the tape recorder, its reels still insistently spinning. It isn’t going to leave until it gets a statement. He waits it out for another minute or so, but in the end he gives in, just like it knew he would.

“Hi again, Jon,” he starts, picking at his cuticles as uncertainly as he picks through his words. “I doubt you can hear me. At least not right now. But I know you listen to all the tapes eventually. Don’t know if you’ll ever get to hear this one, though. If not, I suppose this is rather pointless, isn’t it? You’re always so diligent about listening to them, too.” Martin huffs. “Well, if you want this one, you’ll have to come back and get it. I’m very cross with you, and I’d prefer to tell you in pers-”

Shut up, shut up, what are you saying?

The recorder lets out a short burst of static, as if protesting the break in his confession.

“Oh, shut it,” he grumbles. “Not – not you, Jon. Sorry. I mean, not like you’re hearing this anyway, right? Whatever, just – you’re needed here, alright? It’s been too long. It’s time to come home.” Martin shakes his head and smiles weakly. “Funny, I – I remember when I used to have to nag you to go home at night. The more things change, the more they stay the same, right? Don’t know what good a persuasive argument does in this case, though. It’s not like you need convincing –”

Martin stops short, a sudden thought crystallizing cold and heavy in the front of his mind. For all he knows, Jon’s gotten it into his head that he needs to stay in there to keep the rest of the world safe. It sounds like the sort of conclusion Jon would reach.

“I mean, I – I – I hope you’re not willingly staying down there out of some misguided belief that it’s – safer, for everyone? Jon?” Martin laughs nervously, on the edge of hysteria. “I – I don’t know why I’m talking like I’ll get a response. Anyway, it’s – it’s probably more likely that you want to come back and you can’t, right?” He chuckles again, and realizes too late how teary it sounds. “I don’t even – I don’t know which of those options is worse, but – but it’s not like there’s anything I can do in either case, so – what’s the point of this, of any of this?”

Martin clamps both hands over his mouth to stifle his abrupt, stuttering intake of breath – the precursor to sobbing, if he isn’t careful. He takes a long moment to compose himself, swallowing back tears and slowing his breathing.

“W-well, in case you do need to hear it… things are not better with you gone, okay?” His voice still sounds thick with emotion. In an attempt to steady it, he ends up overcorrecting, his next words coming out far more vehemently than he had intended. “They aren’t. And I don’t know how to make you believe that, but – but – if you don’t come back, you’ll never get a chance to learn, and it’s not like you to pass up a chance to learn something, right, so – so just get back here, will you?”

He stops again. After months of suffocating, deadening quiet, raising his voice even slightly feels like shouting. He finds himself leaning closer towards the tape recorder, as if he’s sharing a secret. Despite the conscious effort to lower his volume, it does nothing to temper the intensity of his speech.

“Jon, you’re late, and everyone’s waiting. Georgie’s worried. Basira spends most of the day camped out in front of your office, just… listening for any change. I – I don’t think she’s been sleeping much. And Melanie, she –” Martin flounders. He hasn’t spoken to Melanie in weeks, but he has no reason to assume her feelings towards Jon have changed. “Well, she – she’ll be angry if you break a promise to Georgie, yeah? And I’m – I…”

Martin doesn’t know what he is.

“Look, Jon, you – you need to come back now,” he says, more softly. More like a prayer than a demand. “Come home, and we’ll… we’ll figure things out.”

He wracks his brain for more, but comes up speechless. There was a time when he could have spoken volumes about what Jon means to him, and the words would flow from him easily. Now, anything he could possibly say feels shallow and jumbled and meaningless. Absolutely useless. But since when did words make any difference anyway? Jon has always been resistant to an outstretched hand. He rarely accepted any offers of help or invitations to talk; could barely handle a kind word or comforting gesture some days. He seemed to be opening up in the weeks prior to the Unknowing, but then –

Martin lets out a sigh and shuts the tape recorder off. Almost immediately, it clicks back on.

“Seriously?” He stares daggers at the thing. “That wasn’t enough for you?”

He depresses the button again, perhaps a little harder than necessary. The moment he removes his finger, the reels resume winding.

“Can’t you just – piss off and let me have some quiet for five minutes?”

It can’t, apparently. After several more foiled attempts to stop its droning, Martin gives an aggravated groan. As tempting as it is to hurl it at a wall, all the archival staff know from experience that the recorders are practically unbreakable, taking only superficial damage regardless of the attempted means to destroy them. Martin could toss it into a bonfire and at most it would come out a bit worse for wear; the casing would never melt or warp so badly as to render the buttons entirely nonfunctional.

More than once, Martin has caught himself wondering whether they get their durability from Jon. It’s a morbid thought and Martin is always quick to shut it down, but, well – there it is again.

At least Jon’s persistence is – charming. Martin glares at the tape recorder some more. Unlike –

The recorder crackles with another impatient uptick of static.

“Fine!” He flips open the folder on his desk, seizes the statement roughly, and gives himself a papercut in the process. Another hiss erupts from the recorder when he swears. “Yeah? Well, I don’t care if personal commentary is unprofessional,” he snaps at it. He doesn’t know who he’s talking to.

When he finally turns his attention back to the statement in his hands, he makes no effort to hide his foul mood.

“Yet another statement about – I don’t know, but I’m sure it’s bleak and horrifying, or else it wouldn’t be so keen for me to read it. Recording by Martin Blackwood, Assistant to Peter Lukas, Head of the Magnus Institute…”

Daisy draws in a sharp breath and stops short.

“Daisy?” Jon tugs lightly on her hand. “You alright?”

“Jon, I – I feel something, like a – like a pull, I –” Daisy laughs breathlessly. “There’s an up.”

“What,” Jon says, grinning to himself, “didn’t you believe me?”

But Daisy isn’t listening to him, instead continuing in an awestruck tone: “I’m – I – I’ll get to – to see Basira again.”

Her voice pitches up ever so slightly towards the end, making the statement sound almost like a question – as if she didn’t believe until this moment that seeing Basira again was even a possibility, as if she still doesn’t quite dare to believe it.

Jon has repeated the same promise dozens of times now along their trek to the surface. Once more can’t hurt: “She’s waiting for you.”

“I know,” Daisy whispers, almost reverently. Then, louder, her mounting anticipation crowding out the remnants of disbelief: “I can feel it.”

So can Jon. For quite some time now, that feeling of being pulled along – almost like he’s an anchor being reeled in, oddly – has been relatively consistent. The strength of the sensation still fluctuates from time to time, but it’s been awhile since it last disappeared entirely.

Of course, now it’s also shot through with a far more unwelcome pull. He swears he can feel the Archive drawing closer the more they near the exit. Maybe it’s simply his imagination, increasingly overactive as his dread intensifies, but the outcome is the same either way: the Eye will have him again, and soon.

“Come on, then,” Jon says, suppressing the grim edge threatening to creep into his tone. There’s no point in worrying Daisy just when she’s started to feel hopeful. “Almost home.”

Not long thereafter, the passage widens again. They still have to walk single file with their shoulders angled, forced to sidle through a few tight spots sideways, but the soil has finally transitioned entirely to solid stone walls and there is a noticeable upward slant to their path. All the while, Jon doesn’t let go of Daisy’s hand.

He grits his teeth against the lancing pain surging through his leg with every step as the incline grows steeper. From the sounds of Daisy’s labored breathing behind him, she’s having a far worse time of it. He’s just about to reassure her again that they’re almost there when his foot connects with something and he stumbles, pitching forward and nearly pulling Daisy down with him. His free hand flails in front of him to break his fall, and that’s when he recognizes –

“Stairs,” he whispers, feeling the shape of them, their flat surfaces and angles.

“What?”

“Stairs, Daisy.” After pushing himself to his feet, he places his free hand against the wall as a guide. It’s still pitch dark, and it will be until they manage to lift the Coffin’s lid. “Not much further now. Watch your step, and go slowly. They’re uneven.”

Despite an abundance of caution, they both end up tripping several times on the way up. The steps are all different heights and depths: some short and wide shelves, some steep and narrow ledges nearing two feet high – which may seem negligible were they both not so weakened, winded, and wounded. Occasionally, a step that felt solid moments before would crumble underneath them, giving way like gravel; a few times, Jon could swear a step disappeared entirely just before he put his foot down.

He’s so focused on keeping his footing that he forgets to be wary of his head. When he places a foot on one particularly sheer step and propels himself upward with the other leg, his head collides violently with something just above him. The pain races through his skull, his neck, his spine, and he nearly topples backward in the momentary daze of the impact. He has just enough presence of mind to throw his weight forward so that when he loses balance, he collapses against the stairs instead of tumbling down them.

For a few seconds, all he knows is a high-pitched ringing in his ears and fireworks in his vision. He’s dimly aware of Daisy’s hands patting at him blindly, frantically; her voice is muffled, but he can detect the urgency there.

“‘M’fine,” he slurs. He tries to tell her to just give him a minute, that he recovers quickly from this sort of thing, but he’s pretty sure it comes out something more like gim’nit.

When he finally starts to come around, Daisy’s words, once fuzzy and indistinct, start to break through the haze: “Jon? Jon, are you alright?”

“Will be,” he groans. He pushes himself up with one hand and reaches up with the other, groping blindly. Either it’s closer than he thought or he put too much force into the gesture in his disorientation, but his knuckles collide with rough wood and he hisses when he catches a splinter.

“Jon?”

“Lid’s right above us,” he says unnecessarily. “Watch your head.”

Daisy snorts. “Noted.”

“I – I might need some help lifting it,” he says, his vertigo gradually fading. He places both palms flat on the underside of the lid. “Last time, it was a lot heavier on the way out than it was going in.”

“Got it.” Daisy crawls up a few steps to kneel next to Jon, and he can feel her hands brush against his as she reaches up to find a grip.

“Feel it?”

“Yeah,” she says. “Ready?”

“On three. One – two – three –”

As expected, it offers more resistance than it should, as if a force is pressing down from the other side. For a terrifying few seconds, it refuses to budge. Then, with a prolonged creak of protest, it starts to give. Even just the dim light of Jon’s office filtering through that first tiny crack is enough to hurt. Judging from the startled yelp next to him, Jon assumes Daisy is shutting her eyes as well.

Jon can hear the low chatter of the tapes he left behind, as well as something louder and clearer cutting through the white noise.

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this on my own.” Basira’s voice, overlaid with the crackle of radio static. “I’m here, Daisy. I need you to be here, too. I need –”

As soon as the opening is wide enough to stick a hand through, the pressure lets up all at once and the lid swings up the rest of the way. Jon scrambles over the side and grabs both of Daisy’s hands, dragging her up and out. He winces sympathetically when she cries out – she hasn’t properly stretched those muscles in months, and it must be agony.

The moment she’s completely cleared the lip of the Coffin, Jon drops her hands and eases her to a kneeling position on the floor. Rising unsteadily to his feet with a pained groan, he takes hold of the lid and drags it back into place. He stumbles the short distance to his desk for the key and hastens to replace the chains and reaffix the padlock. On the way, he kicks a tape recorder and it goes sliding across the floor; an instant later, the knowledge comes to him: Not a tape recorder. A two-way radio.

His hands are shaking so badly that he fumbles the key four times before he manages to fit it into the lock. He’s so absorbed in that simple, seemingly insurmountable task that he barely notices the swearing and clattering coming from just outside the office as someone on the other side goes through the exact same struggle to unlock the door. Just as Jon turns the key, the office door swings open to reveal Basira, panting and wide-eyed, the radio in her hand dropping to the floor as her eyes rest on Daisy, shivering and gasping for air.

“You’re back,” Basira murmurs, frozen in place.

“Hi,” Daisy says with short, almost giddy laugh, before promptly collapsing forward onto the floor. It’s enough to spur Basira into action, lurching forward and going to her knees next to her.

“Daisy,” she says urgently, shaking her shoulder. “Daisy, please –”

“She’s – she’s alright,” Jon says breathlessly, on hands and knees in front of the Coffin, gulping for air to fill his screaming lungs. “Just – needs to –”

He freezes.

“Jon,” Basira says, disbelieving. “Your voice?”

“I – I – I thought I would – I would lose it again,” he stammers. He begins to move his hand up to his throat, but stops when his other arm trembles violently, unable to hold up his weight on its own. “I don’t – I don’t know, I – I might still, it – it –”

The thought turns to static and the words dissolve on his tongue.

“…it barely even sounded human as it – as it spoke in a strange monotone –”

Jon shakes his head frantically, bringing the lingering pain from his earlier head injury back into the forefront.

“…it was then that I became aware of them – hundreds of glossy dead eyes staring at me from all directions –”

“– a tremendous eye – turning to focus upon me –”

“– staring into me, acutely scrutinizing my reaction –”

“Jon!” He stops and looks up at Basira, suddenly realizing that she’s been repeating his name for several seconds now. “You’re hyperventilating. Just – breathe?”

He latches onto Basira’s voice, forcing himself to breathe – oh, god, he can breathe again –

“Good,” she says after a few moments, calm and steady. “Okay. Can you try talking again? No, Jon, listen – look at me,” she says when he shuts his eyes and starts shaking his head again. “Try talking again.”

“…but my inability to speak –”

“Humor me.”

“…it’s still there, still watching me. There’s nowhere I can go, a place I can hide that it doesn’t keep looking at me – I can’t sleep because they’re watching me – those unseen eyes that hover everywhere and won’t let me rest –”

“– I’m sorry – it won’t let me say the words –”

“Yes, you can,” she says. Firm, but not cruel. Authoritative, self-assured, decisive – a solid presence to fixate on. “You’re just – too in your own head. Focus on me and try again.”

“I –” he begins, then stops short. Not the Archive. He gives Basira an uncertain, panicked look.

“Keep going. Try – try something simple. Tell me your name.”

“My name is…” His voice quivers as he forces the words out one syllable at a time.

“Go on. Who are you?”

“The Arch –”

The Archive, he almost says, before a fearful part of him remembers that Jonah might be listening. Besides, right now it would be inaccurate, wouldn’t it. The Eye does not typically dispense outright falsehoods, and its Archive has no use for fictions. Deception is for the Stranger, for the Spiral, for the Web –

“Try again,” Basira says patiently, drawing his attention back to her. “Who are you?”

“The Archivi –”

“No. Who, not what.”

There is a long pause in which he cannot parse the instruction.

“Full name.”

“Jon,” he says slowly. The sound feels strange on his tongue. “Jonathan Sims. The Archivist.”

“Could’ve done without that last bit, but good enough.” Basira relaxes her posture. “You alright?”

“I – I don’t understand.” Lightheaded and trembling, Jon releases a shuddering breath and leans back on his heels, slightly hunched over with his hands on his knees. “How did you know that would work?”

“I didn’t. But you were spiraling, and I imagine that’s exactly what the Eye wants.”

“R-right. I, ah –” Jon runs a shaky hand through his hair. “I don’t know how long it will stay away, the Buried severed the connection temporarily, but now it –”

“Don’t dwell on it.” At his blank stare, Basira sighs. “Yes, I realize that’s not quite your speed, but try anyway.”

“But –”

“We’re dealing with things that feed on fear and can rewrite reality as they please, right? You said yourself that the feeling is all they care about. Maybe feeding it your fear just makes it easier for it to write your reality – in which case, accepting a hypothetical bad outcome as an inevitability is just creating a self-fulfilling prophecy for yourself.”

“That’s… certainly a theory,” he says cagily.

But it’s a theory that Basira must be invested in, because she leans forward, her eyes as bright and interested as when she’s engrossed in a good book or pouring over some compelling research.

“Yes, it is, but I don’t think it’s too far-fetched. Georgie and I have been pooling ideas, and – I don’t think ‘mind over matter’ is a panacea, but mental state does seem to factor in. I was studying the statements you left for me, the ones involving anchors, and – I’m still not sure about the exact mechanics, but would an anchor help someone survive one of the Fears if state of mind wasn’t a key variable? It might not be the most important aspect, but it does seem significant enough to affect the outcome. Not all the time – not even most of the time – but in some cases, at least. Under the right circumstances.”

“And the Fears wouldn’t even exist without minds to experience them,” Jon says, brow furrowed. It’s uncanny, hearing some of the same ideas he bounced off of Daisy to pass the time in the Buried parroted back at him by Basira now.

“Exactly,” she says excitedly, then closes her mouth just as she’s taking a breath to start on her next thought. She clears her throat, looking slightly self-conscious. “I’m getting sidetracked. We can talk more about it later. For now – priorities.” Her expression turns sharp and focused again. “What should we do with the Coffin?”

“Artefact Storage. Tell them – tell them about the compulsion, make sure they take special precautions. Maximum security. No interaction or hands-on research.” He forces the words out rapid-fire, still expecting the Archive to take over any moment. “Store the key separately, same restrictions. No public cross-referencing, keep the link between the two on a need-to-know basis, preferably restricted to the head of the department. In – in fact, refer them to case number 9982211. Joshua Gillespie had a rather – creative way of containing the key. Simple, but” – Jon laughs, shaking his head – “incredibly effective.”

“That’s…”

“The best we can do without –” Jon huffs. “Well, burying it. Sealing it in concrete.”

“Not a bad idea,” Basira says thoughtfully. She raises an eyebrow when Jon doesn’t reply. “Is it?”

“I – I don’t know. We got out, and it seems – wrong, to completely eliminate that possibility for all the other people trapped in there.”

“You think you can help them?”

“I… I doubt it,” he admits, voice dripping with guilt.

He could try, but he suspects he was only able to reach Daisy because he had a personal connection to her, plus the recording of her voice to help him navigate. Finding anyone else in there would mean wandering around aimlessly until he eventually crossed paths with someone by chance, hoping he could reach them before the Buried whisked him away again.

“But if someone else does make it this far,” he says, “I – I don’t want to be the one responsible for the moment they try to lift the lid and find it cemented shut. The chains will still be there, but at least there’s a chance of someone hearing them, helping them? Probably not, but – sealing it off entirely feels… I don’t know, final? Like we would be condemning them personally.”

“Yeah, okay.” Basira sighs heavily, absentmindedly stroking Daisy’s hair. “Point taken. Can you stand?”

“Not yet. Give me a few minutes. I’ll – I’ll be fine here, though, if you want to move Daisy. Put some distance between her and the Coffin. It’s a good idea.”

“Don’t read my mind, Jon.”

“Sorry.”

“Are you sure you’ll be okay? I don’t feel right leaving you alone after…”

Jon meets her eyes again, tilting his head to the side slightly. Last time, she had no qualms about ushering Daisy away from the Coffin the moment she got a chance. She didn’t leave him alone for long – she wasn’t cruel – but still, he was undeniably a lower priority. He clears his throat and tries to look less stunned.

“I’ll be alright, I promise. Go ahead.”

Basira watches him shrewdly, frowning as she considers her options. Eventually, her shoulders slump and she relents.

“If you’re sure. I won’t be gone long.”

“Careful moving her,” Jon says. “Sorry, that – probably goes without saying? But just – mind her left side. She has cracked ribs on both sides, but two on the left are broken.”

A flash of sympathetic pain and vicarious anger crosses Basira’s expression.

“Thanks for the heads up.” Her voice is clipped, but not unkind. She’s simply trying to keep a tight rein on her emotions: deal with the situation at hand first, break down later – in privacy – if at all. “As soon as I have her settled, I’ll come back and – and help you move.”

He nods tiredly.

“Jon.” Basira waits until he looks back up at her. “Thank you – for… I really thought I’d never – I…”

“Basira, it’s okay,” he says as she fumbles for words. “I understand.”

“You know, or you Know?”

“Oh, uh…” Jon grimaces. “Maybe both? I’m sorry –”

Basira snorts and begins to gently position Daisy to be moved. “I was teasing, Jon.”

“O-oh. Right.” He shifts awkwardly. “Still, though, I – I apologize. I realize the Knowing can be – invasive, and – I don’t have as much control over it as I would like, but I should –”

“Jon, it’s fine.” Basira says it with an air of finality, but she doesn’t sound angry. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Sure,” he says, not quite knowing what to do with her lenience. “Thank you. I’ll just – I’ll just wait here.”

“Yes, you will. You’ve met your self-sacrifice quota for the month. No more pocket dimensions. In fact –” She stands and swipes Jon’s phone off his desk where he left it, handing it down to him. “Call Georgie, let her know you’re home. Keep you occupied until I get back.”

As Basira leaves with Daisy, Jon does exactly that. Georgie picks up on the first ring.

“Jon? Jon, is that you?”

Jon closes his eyes and smiles at the sound of her voice.

“Yeah, Georgie. It’s me. I’m back.”

“You got your voice back?”

“Seems so,” he says tentatively. “For now, anyway.”

Something about the tone of Georgie’s sigh tells him that she’s rolling her eyes at him.

“Why are you such a pessimist?”

“I’m not, I’m a –”

“Don’t you dare say ‘realist.’” He keeps his mouth shut. “Does Basira know you’re back?”

“Yes –”

“Are you hurt?”

“No – well, I mean, yes, but – nothing too serious. Nothing unexpected. I’m alright.”

“Okay. Did you find Daisy?”

“Yes. She’s with Basira now.”

“Good.” Georgie breathes a sigh of relief. “I was worried, Jon. Do you know how long you were gone?”

“I –” Jon pauses as the knowledge comes to him. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m – I’m sorry, Georgie, I really didn’t expect it to take – and it’s impossible to tell time in there, so –”

“It’s – it’s alright, I’m just – glad you’re back. Did you let Martin know?”

“Not – not yet, I – I’m not sure how he would feel about me contacting him.” Jon bites his lip. “Do you think I should?”

“Don’t know. He doesn’t seem to know what he wants. But I’ve spoken to him a few times now, and he seems to be – I don’t know. Thawing, I guess? Seems less cold. Easier to get through to him than it was that first time. Or – easier to get a rise out of him, at least. He’s actually got some fire in his eyes now.”

Jon smiles to himself again.

“Georgie Barker, are you annoying him out of the Lonely?”

“I –” She pauses, considers, and then chuckles. “You know – maybe? In my defense, it’s not difficult to do. He’s very moody.”

“O-oh. That’s…”

“Not necessarily a bad thing, Jon. I mean, it can’t be comfortable for him, but – at least he’s feeling something, interacting with the world around him? It’s like – well, he sort of reminds me of…”

“What?”

“Me, at certain points in my life? I think I’ve told you before, but – the lowest low of a depressive episode for me has always been when nothing can reach me. Feeling nothing, wanting nothing, being unable to envision any sort of future at all and not even caring about it.”

“You did, yes. I – don’t think I fully understood then, but now, I – I think I have an idea.”

“Well, when I start to get better, it can look like I’m getting worse to other people, because they can see the hurt, where before it was – quiet, subdued. All the things I couldn’t feel before, they all come out at once, and it’s – overwhelming, after so much nothingness. But it’s part of the healing. At some point, you have to let yourself feel again, even if it hurts. I know it’s not a perfect analogy, but – this might not be a bad sign, is what I’m saying. Sometimes recovery is messy. It helps to have someone to lean on for support.”

“But if he’s determined to be alone –”

“The thing is, I don’t think he is. But that’s something he needs to figure out for himself. I’m not saying you can’t remind him from time to time that he isn’t alone, but…” She exhales heavily. “You can’t force someone to accept help. You reached out to him. Give him the space to reach back.”

“So… don’t contact him? Because – because I want to respect his boundaries, but –”

Georgie gives an exasperated but fond-sounding sigh.

“Jon, if you want a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answer, I can’t help you there.”

“But – but what do you think –”

“I think it’s your call. He might not respond, but… he’s been worried, and I do think he would appreciate knowing you’re back.”

Jon makes a noncommittal noise.

“Well, you think on it,” Georgie says. “Listen, I’m walking out the door now, okay? Be there soon.”

“Oh, uh – right. I’ll – see you then, I suppose.”

“You’d better.”

When the call ends, Jon stares fixedly at a speck on the wall, debating whether or not to… what, send an email? That seems too impersonal, but a phone call might be too much. He could always text, but…

Glancing at the screen, he notices that he has several missed text messages. His thumb hovers uncertainly over the icon. It’s unlikely that any of them are from Martin, but he has an irrational need to prolong the confirmation one way or another, to put off knowing as long as –

The Eye informs him that they’re all from Naomi, and Jon heaves an agitated sigh. Not at the knowledge itself – he enjoys his interactions with Naomi, however sparse his side of the conversation tends to be these days – but at having the option of knowing removed from him. When he starts to read her messages, though, his sour mood rapidly evaporates.

“There,” he says with a private little smile. “One for each day I was gone. To start with.”

Once he sends the reply, he sets the phone aside. His mouth is dry, the taste of dirt clinging to his tongue. Luckily, he thought ahead and stored some water bottles here for when he got back, knowing it would take some time before he was ready to drag himself to the breakroom for a drink. Unluckily, he’d been so preoccupied with all his other preparations in the half-hour prior to entering the Coffin that he hadn’t had the foresight to put them within easier reach. As it is, they’re still stored in the hollow under his desk.

He’s still sore and stiff and lethargic, but the prospect of washing the grit out of his mouth is enticing enough to get him moving. Gingerly, awkwardly, he shuffles around to the other side of the desk. It’s slow going; he practically has to drag himself, and he spares a moment to be glad that no one is here to watch him.

Well. Except the Eye, he supposes. And possibly Jonah.

A noticeable chill shivers through him and his breath catches in his throat. Jon shakes his head to rid himself of the thought. He really needs to stop giving Jonah Magnus real estate in his head.

Just as Jon gets a grip on one of the bottles, his phone dings from where he left it on the floor. He bumps his head on the underside of the desk when he starts – not as hard as he did in the Coffin, but enough to send a new wave of pain coursing through him from head to toe. The phone dings several times more in quick succession.

“Okay, alright, give me a minute, Naomi,” he grumbles, rubbing the sore spot at the top of his head. No blood, but there’s definitely a bump. It won’t be there for long. He should be glad for his healing abilities, he supposes, inhuman though they may be.

The text messages continue pouring in as he makes the return journey to his previous spot.

“Guess she really is sending a photo per emoji,” he says to himself. The alert goes off once more just as he reaches for it. “Or more than one.”

When he glances at the screen, it’s not Naomi’s name that he sees.

Martin is typing up the new rota that Peter requested when it happens.

Seemingly out of nowhere, a tape recorder drops onto his desk with a loud clack. Before he can think on its sudden appearance, another comes plummeting down, smashing two of his fingers against the keyboard.

“Ow! What the –”

Another collides with the top of his head, and on impulse he covers himself with both arms. Four more fall – one glancing his elbow, three clattering to the floor around him – and then there’s a lull. Cautiously, he brings his arms down and looks to the ceiling, half-expecting more to come raining down. When none do, he relaxes somewhat.

“Huh,” he says to himself, bewildered. “That’s new.”

He’s used to the tape recorders materializing, of course, but usually it’s only one or two at a time, and they don't drop from the ceiling. They just appear – sometimes within plain sight, but more often slightly hidden from view: under his chair, behind his computer, once in a potted plant in the breakroom. They always click and whir to announce their presence – as if they want to be found, as if to reassure him that they aren’t trying to spy unnoticed.

Martin rolls his eyes at himself. Why is he always anthropomorphizing them, assuming they have intentions?

In any case, being pelted with a tape recorder shower is unprecedented. He rubs his hand where the second recorder hit him, then his head. He’s bound to have bruises, and his fingers are already swelling up.

“What the hell, Jon?”

Before he even realizes what he’s doing, he has his phone in his hand and he’s tapping out a text message.

He briefly contemplates taking shelter under his desk. When no more fall, he turns his attention back to his phone.

Martin leans back with a sigh, dragging one hand down his face. What is he doing? It’s not like Jon is waiting by the phone for him.

Maybe that’s exactly why he’s doing this. It certainly highlights the loneliness. He probably wouldn’t be texting Jon if there was any chance of him answering, would he?

In the span of a blink, that loneliness turns to frustration. For months, his emotions have been dulled, almost to the point of numbness. Things were quiet. It felt comfortable; it felt right; it almost felt safe, the fog blanketing the world and muffling all of its sharp edges, shielding him from all the things that used to leave him hurt and grieving and wanting.

Then Jon went and ripped that blanket off him, leaving him exposed all over again. Ever since, it's been nothing but sensory overload and raw emotion that doesn’t even have a name. All he knows is that it’s too much and it’s all at once and he has nowhere to put it, and it’s manifesting as irritability and mood swings and a pervasive, indistinct sense of hurt that he thought he’d left behind.

He feels everything after months of feeling next to nothing, as if all the things he wouldn’t allow himself to feel are being regurgitated all at once in a nebulous chaotic tangle, and he isn’t equipped to handle it –

“Alone,” he says aloud. That’s it, isn’t it? It’s too much to cope with on his own. He is alone, and for the first time in what feels like forever, that scares him.

Biting his lip until he tastes blood, he picks up his phone again.

He blinks back tears. It feels wrong, unloading all of this onto Jon, but he’ll never see it, so what does it matter? It has to go somewhere or Martin is going to shatter.

Martin stops mid-rant, mind going blank when the typing indicator pops up. For a seemingly interminable amount of time, he holds his breath, watching as it stops and starts and hesitates before finally –

And before Martin realizes it, there’s a tearful, slightly manic laugh bubbling up in his chest and out through his mouth and he’s crying, when did he start crying? He's giving himself whiplash with his own erratic mood swings, but it doesn't matter, because he can just picture how frantic Jon is right now, stumbling over his words, mussing up his hair and muttering to himself. Martin probably shouldn’t find it so endearing, but when has that ever stopped him?

Martin rubs furiously at the tears streaking down his cheeks, sniffling. He’s debating on responding to save Jon from his own self-consciousness when another few messages come through.

Martin can’t help it: he starts laughing again. Then immediately feels a bit bad about it. He doesn’t have much time to dwell on it before the next message comes through.

“Jon,” Martin says, shaking his head in fond amusement.

This is a side of him that Martin has always adored: how easily he gets sidetracked and carried away with his rambling, his tendency to trip over his words when he’s excited, the informational diatribes he launches into at the drop of a hat.

And now Martin’s tearing up again.

“God, what’s wrong with me,” he sniffs, rubbing at his eyes with his sleeve again.

It’s the heart that does it. Martin doesn’t know why – it’s such a little thing – but that last ounce of doubt evaporates and his reticence crumbles, just like that. The transition is unexpectedly gentle: an easy slip from one state into another, like stepping into a well-worn shoe, a stark contrast to the dramatic, jarring shift he would have anticipated.

He begins typing out a response.

Martin smiles into his hand, pressed to his lips. He’s always found it cute, if a bit silly, how stilted Jon can be sometimes, even when speaking through such informal medium.

And the idea that an emoji is somehow more forward than an overt declaration of love is just…

Martin’s heart glitches at the reminder of what Jon must have just gone through. If he really is more receptive to help now, maybe he can be persuaded to actually rest and recover for once, but Martin doesn’t have his hopes up.

Martin can feel the flush creeping up his neck and onto his face.

“Wait,” Martin says, squinting down at his phone screen. “Is he still…”

“Unbelievable.” Martin huffs an incredulous laugh. “He is unbelievable.”

Martin groans when the three dots repeatedly disappear and reappear.

“That’s a lot of typing for just fixing a typo,” Martin says, tapping his foot impatiently. “Go on, Jon, spit it out.”

Martin rubs the back of his neck and tries to ignore the heat pooling in his cheeks, on his neck, along the tops of his ears. One good thing about the Lonely: it all but eliminated his embarrassing tendency to broadcast his emotions to the world with a blush. Or maybe it just made it so that there wasn’t much to broadcast in the first place.

“So much for that,” he mutters sheepishly.

By necessity, Martin has learned to be adaptable. If circumstances have changed this drastically, he needs to reconsider his trajectory. Steeped in some disorientating mixture of emotion – mortification, giddiness, fear, relief, regret, and so much else he still can’t put a name to – he watches the clock and quietly starts to review his options.

End Notes:

hhhhhh hopefully you’re all okay with a slow-moving plot bc I have a feeling I’m going to continue drawing out the character-focused stuff?? (I know where the story’s going but my outline is extremely loose, which means my pacing has a personality of its own.)

Citations for Jon’s Archive-speak: MAG 144; 054/020/083; 002; 060/019

re: Archive-speak – I do plan on explaining the newest development more, I just didn’t get to it in this chapter. But expect more original dialogue from Jon from here on out, with some Archive-speak mixed in.  

I used this lovely guide to help me puzzle through creating an AO3 workskin so I could format the text messages properly. (On which point, I hope the texting isn’t OOC. I admittedly had a bit too much fun with it. Especially Jon’s. He said ADHD!Jon rights and I agreed.)    

Fun fact: Naomi and Jon have a system wherein any cat emoji translates to “Duchess status update, please”. It’s good she takes a lot of photos, because Jon makes judicious use of the cat emoji. Having a bad time? 🐱 Can’t sleep? 🐱 Bored? 🐱 Just looking for something to distract himself from the mortifying ordeal of Knowing and being Known? 🐱 Of course, she sends a lot of photos unprompted, too, as any new Enthusiastic Cat Parent is wont to do.

[thenamesseven]

Word count: 3.7k

Warnings: None!

A/N: Sorry for taking so long to update, I’ actually a bit more busy these days so please deal with me! ^^’ Anyways! I hope you all enjoy today’s chapter and forgive me if there are some mistakes, I tried editing this but it’s almost 2am and my brain is about to die xD

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You didn’t have an idea of what was going on.

With your back pressed against the wall and Jaebum’s hand around your neck, you stared deep into his eyes, completely frozen on the spot, not even knowing how to process the situation you were in right now. It slightly reminded you of the first time he showed up in your apartment, cornering you like this, right before he kissed you without your consent but this was painfully different and there was no way you could ignore it. That time he had held you gently, longingly, as if you could break if he was a bit rougher than he was supposed to be while the grip he had on your throat,  was depriving you from some of the oxygen you should be breathing.

It didn’t hurt though, he wasn’t squeezing strong enough to actually choke you, but the posture he had placed the two of you in, screamed dominance, it was as if he was silently and not so subtly stating he could control you whenever he wanted and thought it was necessary. You couldn’t believe this was the nice and sweet Jaebum that had fallen asleep on your shoulder this morning while you waited for the bus, he was a completely different guy and yet you couldn’t help but feel even more intrigued about him.

A normal person would have been scared, you knew fear would be the most rational thing to feel when an absolute stranger was holding you against the wall by your neck but there was something in his eyes, a glint you couldn’t decipher yet, that overwhelmed your lower stomach with a warm feeling that was far from fear and closer to safety. He wasn’t going to kill you, he could have done it the other night if he had wanted to.

“What’s wrong with you?” You simply asked, staring back into his eyes, watching how he went from heated and dominant to confused and thrown off. He hadn’t expected you to ask that, out of all the different outcomes he had imagined while waiting for you, Jaebum didn’t even think about this one.

“What?” He asked, grip on your throat faltering, his thumb was now caressing your pulse spot, feeling how your heart beats slowed down. Jaebum’s head tilted, like a puppy that didn’t understand whatever you just said.

“Why are you mad? I didn’t even have time to stop you back in the cafeteria before you stormed off” You repeated, visualizing Jaebum’s gears turning in his head, eyes locked on you, the situation wasn’t going as planned and Jaebum was lowkey panicking.

The shock that brought your words and unexpected reaction had fried his brain enough for him to not even know how to react to everything, Jaebum simply was in a lost for words and that only made him even more frustrated “Way to ruin the situation (Y/N)” 

Moving his hand away from you, Jaebum let out a quiet sigh as he shook his head, looking incredibly disappointed at whatever had just happened between the two of you. While he had expected you to enjoy his actions and get in a better mood with him acting all dominant and sexy, you had only thought he was merely mad because of what had happened that morning. You were partially right though, everything that was happening right now had been triggered by the jealousy Yugyeom stirred awake in Jaebum’s chest but he hadn’t been aiming to get this kind of outcome, he had just been hoping for a little make out session and some dinner, that would have been perfect. However, lost was an understatement to how you felt, you didn’t even know where this was all coming from and you wanted to try to get an explanation before listening to your subconscious and assuming he had some kind of personality disorder he had forgotten to mention.

“What are you talking about?” You asked, looking at him, your eyebrows furrowing because of the soft frustration you were starting to feel “What situation Jaebum?” Your words only seemed to hurt his feelings even harder.

Jaebum considered his whole plan useless if you couldn’t have guessed that he was trying to spice things up romantically between the two of you from the beginning. His jaw tensed in what seemed to be anger but instead of saying something, Jaebum simply looked at you in defeat, hands raised in exasperation as he rolled his eyes and turned around to walk deeper into the apartment. 

“Jaebum wa-”

You started walking right after him, willing to stop him before the distance between the two of you got too big, when your eyes landed on the table you usually had dinner on by yourself. Gone were the bunch of books and boring papers you always had scattered on it, being replaced by a red, soft looking tablecloth that you probably saved for special occasions but ended up never using it because, there hadn’t been any special occasions at all. A few candles had been lit in order to let the rest of the room be swallowed by darkness and gentle moonlight and, like the tablecloth, your special occasion silverware had also been set and prepared, waiting to be used.

“What’s this?” You asked quietly, awed by the view in front of you. “Did you do all this?”

Jaebum scoffed, plopping himself down onto your couch, finding your reaction truly unbelievable. Was it that hard to believe he would do something like this? “No! You see, actually Youngjae broke into our place and decided to prepare a romantic dinner for us but, since you arrived earlier you kind of interrupted it” His sarcasm and the way he called your apartment ‘ours’ was left ignored for the better, those were small arguments that you definitely didn’t need to have right now, it could wait till later, probably when Jaebum had calmed down and forgot about whatever the hell seemed to be bothering him at the moment.

“Okay, I deserved that, it was a stupid question” You muttered as your eyes moved from him to the table, right before they went back to him once again, while you stood there, in the middle of the room awkwardly, not knowing how to really handle the situation.

You’ve never found yourself in a similar situation, never in your life had you had to deal with something like this. Coming back home and finding a surprise, and apparently special, dinner was already incredibly new but frustrating somebody to the point where they didn’t even want to talk about it also was a first time for you. You still felt lost, mind raking for answers as to what you could have done or said to make him this upset but anxiety was also ready to show up since you definitely felt bad for making him mad and now, for hurting his feelings. Jaebum had taken the time and effort to prepare all of this after all and you appreciated it a lot even when you haven’t shown it yet.

“All this was stupid, I should have known it wouldn’t work” He mumbled in return, placing his feet up on the coffee table as he stared at the turned off television like it was the most interesting thing in the world. Jaebum’s child-like tone told you he was back to being the one you were familiar with, the one that got grumpy when you rejected his romantic advances and hated Youngjae for reasons that were absolutely insane. “Shouldn’t have listened to that old man, it feels like I’ve been tricked” You couldn’t help but lift one of your eyebrows at those words, definitely curious about what he was talking about.

“You’ve been scammed?” You asked, sitting down by his side on the couch, legs crossed and body turned to face him completely, letting him know he had your entire attention right now “How did you come back home Jaebum?”

“I saw Youngjae waiting in the bus stop and he offered to pay for me, so we came home together” Jaebum slightly lied, thinking it would be best if he didn’t mention how he had been the one asking Youngjae to pay for him, it was just unnecessary for you to know that right now.

It was surprising to find out that Jaebum had accepted coming back with Youngjae, someone he hadn’t hesitated to make his enemy, but knowing your own neighbor, you didn’t doubt that he would have offered Jaebum to come back home with him. “Ah, I’m glad you didn’t have to walk all the way back by yourself” You said with a small smile “I got out of the cafeteria to give you my bus card so you could take a ride home but I couldn’t found you, I felt kind of worried there” 

“You did?” He asked, taken back by your sudden confession, he would have expected you to completely ignore his little tantrum and focus on your crush instead, not to go after him “What about you though? How would you have gotten back home if I had your bus card?” 

“Well, I could always walk” You shrugged, leaning back against the couch, you hadn’t realized how truly exhausted you were until you landed your butt onto the comfort of your old couch “But I could also make Jinyoung pay for my bus ride even though I would have to buy him coffee for the next two days” Jaebum smiled a little, despite his first impression -which were always bad when it came to guys-, he kind of liked this Jinyoung guy since, instead of trying to seduce you, his only objective in life seemed to be getting on your nerves “I wouldn’t mind lending it to you, silly”

Jaebum’s lips turned into a small pout, mentally calling himself an idiot for getting all mad at you without listening to you first. Jealousy and worry were getting the best of him and if he let those feelings control him for too long, the situation would only get way too difficult to handle “I just thought you were too busy fanning over Yugyeom to worry about….Me” He didn’t realize how childish and stupid those words actually sounded until he had said them outloud, like God, he cringed at himself for saying something like that. A soft blush made its way up to his cheeks, making Jaebum look down at his own hands in order to hide the pink shadow that was overtaking most of his face.

You might have missed the cute blush but your eyes definitely noticed the hesitance in his eyes, the way his fingers fidgeted with the hem of his hoodie….Jaebum was feeling nervous in this situation, probably felt a little insecure too and you suddenly were glad you weren’t the only one feeling like that right now “Yugyeom?” At the mention of his name and your obvious feelings, a strong blush tinted your cheeks, making you feel incredibly embarrassed. The only one who knew about your crush -or at least, that’s what you thought- was Jinyoung since you were too shy to even talk about it “I wasn’t...Uh….I just didn’t want to be rude and reject all of his ideas, you know?”

Jaebum scoffed, shaking his head silently, were you seriously trying to deny having feelings for Yugyeom when he had witnessed how you almost drooled as soon as your eyes landed on him? “(Y/N), I’m not an idiot, I saw the way you acted around him, you obviously like that guy” He sighed again, sounding painfully familiar to a disappointed parent. Leaning the back of his head against the couch, Jaebum’s eyes stayed glued to the ceiling “Even though I’m way better than him”

A genuine chuckle escaped your lips, despite how scaring he had been a few seconds ago, Jaebum was now back to the jealous childish guy he usually was around you. If he was seriously doing all of this because you had an innocent crush on Yugyeom..…”Is that so?” You asked amused, one of your eyebrows arched as you watched him curiously. His eyes were dragged down from the ceiling, turning towards you when he heard your question. A small, playful smirk pulled one of the corners of his lips up, the way his eyes scanned you left your stomach turning into knots “Why? What do you have that he doesn’t Jae? Enlighten me”

“Jae, huh?” He suddenly asked, making you blink confused before you realized you had just gave him a nickname without his permission.

“I’m sorry” You quickly apologized, blushing again as you thought of ways to fix the mistake you’ve just made, in case he had gotten slightly offended. It could also be that maybe Jaebum and you weren’t in that friendship stage yet, the one where the two of you gave each other petnames or nicknames, maybe it was too soon yet even though the two of you literally live and sleep in the same place, besides each other “I shouldn’t have assumed-”

“It’s alright” He assured, shaking his head “I like it, nobody calls me like that” Jaebum’s smile was friendly, one full of honesty and that showed he wasn’t just saying it to not make you feel more uncomfortable about it.

“Anyways, you were saying…?”

“Oh! Right, I was just about to start my Why-Im-Better-Than-Yugyeom-Speech” He said smirking, standing up so he could pace around the coffee table, acting as if he was really going to give a speech to the imaginary public that was sitting on the couch around you “First of all, have you seen this?” You couldn’t help but laugh when Jaebum used one of his fingers to point at himself, moving it up and down so you could take a good look at his athletic figure. That question had been totally unexpected.

“You mean, you’re shorter?” You asked, just willing to tease him a little bit, laughing even more when his eyes opened as wide as saucers at the realization of what you’ve just said.

“You can ask questions at the end” He cut you off, trying to look all serious even when the glint in his eyes, even when the way his lips kept twitching when he thought you weren’t looking, gave away that he was as amused as you were by this. “Second reason is I’m funnier” You opened your mouth to say something but Jaebum started talking again before you could interrupt him “You laugh way more with me, don’t even try to deny it” 

“We met a few hours ago! How can you know that?” You asked giggling, hugging the cushion you kept on your couch, looking at him expectantly. Even though your night had started off with the wrong foot, both of you had big smiles on your faces and laughter was starting to replace the tense and confusing atmosphere from before.

“Call it Jaebum’s intuition” He simply replied, crossing his arms on his chest.

“Is it as trust-worthy as female intuition?” You questioned, squinting your eyes at him playfully to let him know you were watching him closely.

“What part of the you can ask questions at the end that you didn't understand?” There was evident frustration in his words, quiet chuckles slipping past his lips with every word he said as he sat back down on the couch, already giving up on trying to finish the mental speech he had been improvising. 

“There’s no more reasons?” You pouted softly, not willing to let his amusing speech finish yet. 

“I’m better because I say so, end of the story” Jaebum turned his head to look at you with a smile and, for some reason, your heart decided to skip a beat right at that moment. You knew he was handsome, every normal yet realistic person would admit Jaebum was a really attractive man but right there, in that moment, he looked so domestic, so kind of...Boyfriend? That it made you feel flustered for the first time since he had  made his way into your life. At the lack of smartass responses and silly jokes, Jaebum’s eyes observed your face carefully and unfortunately, for you, the blush on your cheeks didn’t go unnoticed by him “What is it?” He asked with a soft chuckle, eyes still on you, amusing him even more when he saw slight panic in your eyes.

“What is it what?” You asked back, maybe sounding a bit more defensive than you should have sounded.

“Why are you getting shy on me now?” Without any previous warnings, Jaebum dragged himself closer to you, leaning in as if the already non existent distance between the two of you wasn’t close enough. “What’s wrong?”

“What are you talking about? Since when am I shy around you?” You asked gently, placing your hand on his chest, cautiously pushing him away so his face wouldn’t be that close to yours, triggering the memories of that first kiss the two of you shared when he showed up.

“Well you were pretty shy yesterday when I kissed you and don’t even get me started when I announced I would be sleeping in the same bed as you” Jaebum reminded you, a playful smirk on his lips that only stretched even more when your cheeks turned even redder at the mention of those events.

Not willing to be Jaebum’s target for tonight’s teasing you stood up from the couch, unnecessarily dusting off your clothes as you tilted your head to glance into the kitchen, willing to see what he had managed to cook for dinner. No food’s scent was filling up your apartment and that was slightly suspicious, you expected everything from Jaebum but you tried to remain positive, after all, he had prepared everything for you, the least you could do was have a little faith in him.

“So what’s for dinner tonight?” You asked, turning around to just find him staring up at you, smiling amused. You decided not to ask what was so funny since you knew his answer would only make you even more flustered. He definitely was in a flirty mood but you weren’t sure if your heart could survive that.

His smile twitched, someone who hadn’t been watching him closely wouldn’t have noticed it but you knew there was something he hadn’t told you yet “Uh...About that” Jaebum suddenly stood up, hand flying to the back of his neck where he scratched for a few seconds before his hands moved back down to start fidgeting with the rings that adorned his fingers “Your fridge was literally empty when I opened it, what was I supposed to do?” He asked, acting all frustrated and exasperated when you perfectly knew it was all an act to hide his nervousness from you.

“So, you’re telling me there’s nothing for dinner?” One of your eyebrows was arched as you turned around to look at him, not knowing whether to laugh or to hit him as hard as you could.

“I ordered pizza” He blurted out, as if he was telling you the worst kind of news someone could have ever told you. “LikeIorderedabunchofthembecauseIeatalotand-”

“Jae breathe” You instructed, not really understanding anything he was saying, internally freaking out because whatever he did seemed to be really serious.

“Okay so I just asked Youngjae how many pizzas should I order for us and he said that one would be enough but that I should order two if I was really hungry” Jaebum was still talking really fast but you were managing to understand most of the words he was saying, not really knowing where his little speech could lead up to “But when I read the menu I started liking everything and choosing was almost impossible so I endeduporderinglikefiveofthem”

“You did what?” For some reason, maybe because you probably had gotten used to how fast he had been speaking during this whole time since dinner was brought up, you managed to understand the rushed end of his sentence. “Did you just say you ordered five pizzas for the two of us?”

“Andyouhavetopayforthem”

You didn’t know if you should laugh and thank him for spoiling you with food or cry because the bill would drain the remaining little money you had saved in your wallet.

After eating as much pizza as you could without throwing up, the two of you cleaned everything and made sure every candle was turned off before you made your way to bed. You had scurried off to your bathroom after getting some clean clothes to take a short shower and change into something more comfortable before getting in bed with your new roommate, you weren’t calmer than last night though, the thought of sharing a bed with somebody like...With Jaebum in general, made your heart pound against your ribcage way too hard for your liking.

It was probably your lack of experience that made you so nervous around him, it definitely wasn’t because you liked him or something, that would be totally insane.

Jaebum was already in his underwear, clothes tossed on the floor as he pulled the bed sheets back before sitting on his side of the bed. He was exhausted after waking up so early to take you to class, it wouldn’t take too long for him to fall asleep. Resting his head against your pillow, he closed his eyes for a second and took a deep breath, the scent of your perfume pulling the corners of his lips up. Despite the reason he was here and what he was going to do to you, Jaebum knew he would have liked to be friends if you had met in another situation.

He would have definitely enjoyed your company so much.

It was the sound of his phone buzzing what made him snap his eyes open, he didn’t have many contacts saved and the few ones he had were definitely not welcomed to establish some kind of contact with him.

Jaebum’s blood froze when his eyes scanned the words that shone in his phone, his eyes scanning them over and over again.

Jackson 22:45 - What’s up bro? I’m back in town, did you miss me?

Jackson 22:46 - I bet you didn’t.

Taglist: @gold--gucciempress​ @harringtonsblackgf​

[stilloutofmyvulcanmind]

NSFW Alphabet - Miles Strasburg

(screencap is my own)

Soooo, I spent the weekend watching the Darrow & Darrow movies, and fell head over heels for Miles...which resulted in this. I’m not sorry.

Warnings for a whole lot of smutty headcanons

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Miles is practical. If there’s no water by the bed (or wherever you happened to do it), he’ll go get some. His priority is making sure you stay hydrated. Miles is also a snuggler. After sex, he’ll want to cuddle for as long as you both possibly can. He likes when you lay with your head on his chest or when he can spoon you from behind. As long as there’s a lot of skin to skin contact, and he gets to touch you and tell you how amazing you were, he’s happy.

B = Body Part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Miles loves his hands, mostly because you love them. He knows that you love how big they are, how long his fingers are, and he loves what they can do to you. As for you, Miles knows it’s a cliché, but he loves your smile. He loves your bright smile that can cheer up the worst day, loves your sleepy morning smile, loves the bedroom smile you give him to let him know just how much you want him, loves the soft, sated smile you wear after. Just everything about your smile. 

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

Back to being practical, Miles is gonna keep it wrapped up, even if you’ve been together for a long time, and probably won’t even think about going without a condom until you bring it up. Which means that nine times out of ten, cum doesn’t really get involved. That being said, with some encouragement from you, he does occasionally enjoy cumming on your stomach and chest. 

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Miles really wants to fuck you in his office. He thinks about it a lot. He wants to sweep everything to the floor, lay you back on the wood, and absolutely make a mess of you. He’d start by going down you, forcing you to bite down on his tie to stifle your moans, then he’d fuck you. He’d take away his tie, instead kissing you to swallow down both of your noises. And afterwards, if someone mentions a damp patch on his tie? Just some grape soda.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Miles doesn’t have the most notches on his bed post, but he’s not inexperienced either. He had his share of encounters during Law school and his first few years of being a lawyer. He’s had a lot less since his wife passed, only really having a couple of partners. He’s far from rusty though, and he’s a quick learner...

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Miles isn’t afraid to shake it up, but he’s a bit of a traditionalist. He likes to keep it simple and stick to missionary. He loves being able to look into your eyes and kiss you at whim, and enjoys feeling your chest heaving under his own. Mostly, he just loves that he can pin your hands to the bed with his own (something he knows also drives you wild.)

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Though he’s been known to be serious on occasion, usually Miles is pretty goofy. In fact, he thinks that if you’re not having some fun during the act, it’s being done wrong, and you’re breathless giggles that he turns into moans, drives him wild.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Miles has never really thought about grooming down there too much, especially when he’s out of a relationship. However, when the two of you start getting serious, and sex comes onto the table, he does keep it trimmed and tidy.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Miles loves to be intimate and romantic. Given time, he enjoys setting the scene. One time you came home to find the bed covered in rose petals, and candles lighting the room. Miles spent the night making love to you, and it was probably the best sex you’d ever had.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

In the early days of your relationship, Miles jacked off quite a lot thinking about you. He was so enraptured, how could he not? Though he’d be hard pressed to admit it, he still does sometimes. If you haven’t seen each other in a few days, he’ll masturbate thinking about what he wishes to do to you, and vice versa. 

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Miles isn’t super kinky, but he does enjoy using his tie to blindfold you sometimes. He also purchased some silk rope to tie your hands to the bed too. Miles enjoys sensory play, so keeping you like that means you get to enjoy everything he does to you even more. On occasion, if he’s had a stressful time, Miles does like it if you switch places, and you tie him up instead. He’s also a big fan of the erotic massage, both giving and receiving.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

Miles’ ultimate favourite, hands down, is the bedroom, where you can have complete privacy to explore each other, and take your time.

 M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Miles loves seeing you in a well tailored suit. There’s something about the way the clothes hang perfectly on your body that drives him wild. He is, also, a stereotypical man, and if he comes home to find you in something skimpy and sexy, he’ll think all his Christmases have come at once and that he’s the luckiest man in the world.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Roleplay. Specifically roleplay that involves abuse of power somehow. Whilst he obviously understands that it is just an act, and that you’d be consenting, the idea still makes him exceptionally uncomfortable. 

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

While Miles will always enjoy you going down on him, there’s just something about seeing you on your knees, taking pleasure in giving him pleasure, his preference is always to go down on you. Hearing your moans and the way you chant his name as he uses his mouth to bring you to your peak, is absolutely one of his favourite things ever.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Miles has been known to get a little rougher, especially if things aren’t going well with a case and he’s frustrated, but usually, he prefers to go slow and take his time. If he can, he’d spend an entire night making love until you’re both sweaty, exhausted messes.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Miles is definitely not opposed to quickies if the occasion pops-up (that one time during the office Christmas party immediately springs to mind,) but he definitely prefers to take his time.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Miles really isn’t that risky. He doesn’t mind the odd experiment, but only if it’s pretty safe. The riskiest thing the two of you have done was have sex outside one time when you went hiking together.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Miles isn’t as young as he used to be, so he can’t go for that many rounds. The maximum rounds you’ve had together is two (both of which were fantastic so you definitely weren’t complaining.) However, with his age and experience, comes stamina, and Miles can last a long time if he wants to. Which he does, because he always wants to make sure you come as many times as possible before letting go himself.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Miles doesn’t own any toys, and he’s never thought about buying any either. If you show him one of your own though, or go out to buy one as a surprise, he’s going to thoroughly love helping you use it. Maybe a little too much. You’ll be walking funny the next day for sure.

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)

Oh Miles is going to tease. It takes him some time to get comfortable enough not to stumble over himself, but once he does...he loves it. But, he’ll readily admit, that between the two of you, you’re the superior teaser. Especially when you’re out somewhere public, and start whispering in his ear what you’re thinking, or texting him the odd sexy pic during the day. It drives him mad.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Miles is pretty quiet, he tends to hold back a bit, not wanting to come across too eager or embarrassing. Half your fun though, comes from dragging every little noise out of him. Your favourites are the small breathy moans he makes when you’re sucking him off, and the half-choked groan when he comes.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Since meeting you, Miles’ new favourite item of clothing to wear is a tie. He loves when you grab him by it and pull him into a passionate kiss (usually shortly after a trial where you watched him be his awesome self and put a bad guy away.) And the first time you suggested using it to tie your hands or use it as a blindfold, his brain almost broke, but fuck, he loved seeing it on you like that.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Look at those pants. Miles is packing. He’s long and thick and curled a little to the left, and every time he fucks you he fills you perfectly, and leaves you craving more.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

In between relationships Miles’ sex drive has never been that high. But when he’s with you, he can never get enough. Even after being together a long time, Miles still craves the touch and feel of your body against his. One of his new dreams is to whisk you away on a vacation where neither of you get out of bed the entire time.

Z = ZZZ (How quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He hates to admit it, but Miles can’t stay awake for as long as he’d like afterwards. If he had it his way, he’d stay awake long enough to watch you sleep a little first, (he loves how relaxed and at ease you are asleep in his arms,) but that’s not often the case, especially if you’ve been at it awhile. You never mind though. You love watching him sleep as much as he does you, and it means you always fall to sleep with a smile.

[risthebrave]

hi!! i was wondering if you had any tips for writing smut?? i’m terrible at it and would love some of your h o l y advice <3

hi!! of course! i’m so so sorry this is so late! it’s been a busy (and emotionally exhausting) few days but i hope whoever sent this still sees this!! it’s sort of a mess but *hopefully* includes something helpful.

i’m going to put it under the cut though just in case:

first i want to link this super helpful smut writing 101 post that’s my go-to for providing references. it’s what helped me a lot when i was first attempting to write smut back in my first fic and was intimidated about where to start! in my opinion, it’s really thorough so i highly suggest giving it a read!

this one is also rather helpful! i got it from the @bottomlouisficfest writing tips tag which is another great place to look for writing resources and tips if you ever need any!

i don’t want to repeat what’s been said in those posts (probably way more eloquently than i could ever attempt) but i’m still going to list a few things that i tend to keep in mind/do when writing smut. just want to emphasize real quickly that there’s no “one correct set of rules” for writing smut and i’m surely not the single expert (or even an expert at all, lol) so read this and if something resonates with you, keep it mind, but if you disagree, then that’s fine too! it’s your writing and it should be what you want/like first and foremost.

now for the actual “tips” :

- analyzing smut scenes that you’ve thought to be “well-done”

just want to clarify that ‘analyzing’ never in a million years means ‘copying.’ all words you put down on that document should be 100% your own - i shouldn’t even have to explain that. but when you’ve never written smut before (or you have but not frequently), looking at smut scenes that you deem to be successful is a great way to get an idea of how to set up a scene. look at what they focus on and emphasize, how they balance description and dialogue, and how much they delve into the sensations/actions.

i can say pretty confidently that no one who’s never read a smut scene will be able to write a (good) smut scene, so read!! read and learn from what you read!

- be clear about what kind of scene you want to write

1. intent/purpose

what is the intent of this scene? okay, that sounds a bit confusing - it’s smut. the purpose is pretty much always going to be achieving intimacy between the characters, and/or portraying dynamics/etc but make sure you’re achieving those goals when writing smut/smut scenes. i know it may seem like you have to add smut to every fic you write (and i know i’m not one to talk considering all my fics so far have included - and some of them a lot of - smut) but it’s not a requirement! if you don’t want to write it or you don’t think it fits in with the story, don’t force it!

that being said, there is usually a “point” to the scene. sometimes people use smut as a plot device which is fine too (creating drama/angst - like fwb where one is pining or something like that - IDK) but you should know what that intent is before you write the scene so it aids your goal rather than contradicts it or worse, confuses reader. this sort of relates to the 3: atmosphere too so i’ll come back to this!

2. language

depending on the type of scene you want to write, your language and prose should reflect your intent/goal from before.

- cock vs other words: this one is less about the intent, and more just about language choices in general. ‘cock’ is the most widely used word for ‘penis’ in smut scenes for a reason, so i highly suggest using it. i know people don’t want to be repetitive so they try to use multiple words, but ‘cock’ is seriously your best best. if it isn’t broke, don’t fix it, and all that. ‘dick,’ ‘length,’ and maybe ‘shaft,’ or ‘prick,’ can be used too depending on the circumstances/atmosphere (for example, i’ll only use ‘dick’ in fics where the smut is “dirtier” because imo it stands out as a bit more crude?)

- come/cum: this is a differentiation that varies from writer to writer but what i personally tend to do is ‘coming/come’ for the verb and ‘cum’ for the noun. even then, i typically don’t use ‘cum’ in fics where the smut is less dirty, more romantic because again, it’s more ‘crude/dirty’ than the counterpart - once again, people’s opinions on this vary though, so think about what flows better with the type of scene you want to write.

and some more general writing tips: be precise with your word choice (this is actually sort of related to the above two things as well but i felt those needed to be separate dhjdkd) - words like ‘gripping’ and ‘grasping’ while seemingly being the same, tend to denote slightly different meanings, at least for me when i read! ‘gripping’ is more firm while ‘grasping’ is more desperate. things like this also connect to atmosphere but it’s language so i’m keeping it here! 

some words/phrases that i keep in a list and that also may give you a good idea of the kind of writing that’s typical to smut scenes are: pumping fingers in vs fingers pressing in (those two also have different meanings/pictures), hips snapping forward vs hips drawing forward (again! it’s all about word choice), nails cutting shapes into the skin of his back, slow drag of his hips vs ramming in, cock thick and pressing deep, pushing deep with agonizing precision, fingers grasping helplessly at the sheets, toes curling into the mattress, skin slick with sweat, throat fluttering with every breath, head lolling back, body going slack, heart racing/thundering in his ears, etc etc. 

think about the five senses and what the characters are feeling. think about the dynamic between them. all of that should be reflected in the writing style (and oftentimes already is, just subconsciously, but it never hurts to be aware). 

3. atmosphere

in other words, is this scene meant to be romantic? dirty? is it more light-hearted or intense? these are things that should impact the way you write the scene. if i’m writing a romantic smut scene, then i’ll pay less attention to the actual acts itself and more to the emotions and tenderness behind it. there’ll probably be more metaphors (but also: never overuse metaphors because that also gets confusing) and sweet nothings being whispered in comparison to a scene with lots of dirty talk and more significance to the physical aspect (it’ll also probably include rougher sex in comparison to sweeter, slower sex).

if it’s a more light-hearted scene, consider adding elements such as humor to enhance that goal/intent (see, they’re back!) it’s all about what you want this scene to accomplish in the reader’s eyes!

just some other quick things: when you have multiple smut scenes in a fic, it can be hard to not get repetitive but you also don’t want them to be too similar. as a general recommendation, differences between scenes shouldn’t come from language or anything like that, but from things like setting or content (positions, actual sexual acts, etcetera). if they fuck in a bedroom twice, then maybe change it up - make it the shower or against the wall next time. and again, the atmosphere! switch it up!!!

also remember that you don’t have to include penetration to write a successful/satisfying smut scene! there’s plenty of other things your characters can do to get off and establish intimacy. i think one of the above resources mentions it but you also don’t always have to include the foreplay or every single step for the smut scene, especially if there’s already been a smut scene with all of those components. obviously, make it clear that the prep occurred already and that they’re being safe, etc, but you don’t actually have to show all of that stuff if you don’t want! and contrastingly, if there’s only one smut scene and it’s a longer fic, feel free to include more of the foreplay/build-up!

- balancing physical and emotional aspects

this one depends again on what type of scene you’re writing but it’s also good general advice. you don’t want to write a smut scene that glosses over all the physical aspects and just focuses on the feelings of a character to the point that you have no idea what they’re even doing but you also don’t want the opposite.

one thing i try to do is keep the descriptions of movements/actions to a minimum - that’s majority of what gets repetitive when you start to have multiple scenes in a fic and sometimes it includes unnecessary explanations for things. that isn’t to say you shouldn’t make sure the reader understands what’s going on (this is why watching porn is helpful - so you can see the best way to describe different positions and how bodies are moving in relation to each other. i know a lot of people don’t like porn but if you can tolerate it, this is literally one of the best ways to see visually what you want to write).

- dialogue

okay this wasn’t initially part of my list, but i just wanted to make a small note on it! dialogue during smut is honestly one of the most intimidating parts, at least in my opinion but a general rule to follow if you’re like me is: less is more. 

and again!! dialogue should reflect the type of scene you’re writing. dirty talk is vastly differently from sappy compliments and you can have both in one, but thee has to be a balance! 

dialogue is also one of the best ways to differentiate the participating characters and establish their dynamic. this goes beyond dialogue actually, but this whole post is unorganized at this point so let’s go with it. no two characters will act the same during sex! some are loud, some are quiet, some are dominant, and some are submissive. and guess what? that shows through when they talk!! things like begging, teasing/taunting, praising, and other verbal components all tell you something about the character so keep that in mind too! 

also not quite dialogue but still verbal so sounds! things like whimpering, whining, gasping, groaning, moaning, grunting, growling (if it’s abo... or one of them just likes that sort of thing), and also screaming/yelping/crying out are all things that are regularly seen in smut scenes. 

- practice!!

this may go without saying but i’m still going to say it. the only way to get better at something is by doing it again and again and the more you do it, the more you’ll learn and improve and the easier it’ll get. it may seem daunting right now but eventually it’ll be like second nature. the first full smut scene i ever wrote was literally less than a year ago (march, i believe) and i’ve written many many since then, some better than others, all showcasing new knowledge and techniques that i may not have utilized before. i honestly don’t even want to reread that first scene but i also know i don’t have to reread it to know i’ve improved a lot since then and so can anyone!

i have absolutely no idea if this is helpful or not but hopefully it is in some small way?? if you or anyone has any more specific questions that i can maybe help with, let me know! and sorry again that this is so unbelievably late!

[ironmansuuucks]

Coffee, just how you like it

this is just a little angsty, smutty, fluffy fic for dewey finn x reader ! Dewey has a bad day and reader accidentally snaps at him after he keeps her up. happy in the end though hehe (your warnings are: smut, angsty, mentions of panic attack)

Dewey Finn x Reader 

Swinging open the door after a long night of being out for dinner and a few drinks with your friends and seeing Dewey, your loving, sweet boyfriend of 4 years, holding a mug of coffee in his hands, stretching it out for you was enough to make your heart melt on the spot. His brown, soft curls slightly dishevelled and his cheeks dawned a sweet pink colour as he stood there, in the dim lighting of the kitchen, in his favourite grey sweatpants and Black Sabbath t-shirt waiting for you to come home. “I made you a cup of coffee.. with the right amount of sugar.. j-just how you like it” he smiled sweetly, happy to finally have you home. You smiled at the gesture and took the mug off of him, kissing him on the cheek then setting the mug on the counter.

“aw I’m absolutely exhausted Dew” you whined taking off your shoes. Dewey stood in the same place and fidgeted with the string from the waistband of his sweatpants, “yeah you’ve had a long day, tha-that’s why I made you the coffee.. for your head”. You flung your shoes over next to the door and headed towards the shower “honestly it’s been such a week, I just can’t wait to go to bed”. Dewey looked at the coffee he made you, left on the counter and his smile faded slowly. His entire face dropping to a solemn stature. Cheeks and eyebrows falling. “yeah, I know what you mean” he shouted through to you, then let out a small, quiet sigh. Dewey looked around the kitchen, as if he was looking for something, or someone as he stood in the same spot. Again he let out a little sigh. His eyes heavy and sparkling at the same time. Not an ounce of happy sparkled out those eyes though. They were just full of troubled water.

*****

Your feet were stinging from wearing those heels all night. You couldn’t even get drunk because you were so tired from a full day at work. The water felt hot. Stinging. Relaxing your muscles. You washed your hair as quickly as you could and got out. You rubbed your eyes from tiredness as you turned off the light of the bathroom and stepped out into your bedroom. Dewey wasn’t in bed, like you were expecting him to be. The covers untouched and cold looking. The room was still cold from the window being left open and the room was still in darkness.  It was 23:30. You could still see the living room light flooding into the room from the door being cracked open. You huffed and turned on your bedside light, shivering as you went to close the window, which was never usually left open, and went to find him.

Your bare feet slapped against the stone tiled floor and you folded your arms over your tank top being absolutely freezing. Your wet hair wasn’t making you any warmer. The water pittering on to the floor. Dewey was standing over at the window in the living room. That window also being open. Your eyes were tired and all you could think about was sleep. Dewey was holding his coffee cup in one hand and the other hand was holding open the window. The moonlight illuminating his figure, making his hair shine, casting shadows all over his face. “Dewey? What are you doing?” you stayed at the other end of the room, shivering from the cold air of the night, filling every space. Dewey didn’t look over at you. “Remember we used to always stand here and look at the stars?”. You continued to look at him, confused and not moving. “it just makes you feel so small. So insignificant. So… alone” he continued. you sighed “yeah that’s why we don’t do it anymore”. You didn’t realise how cold you were now being. “that and because its fucking freezing Dew” you went and moved his hand, closing the window swiftly then heading back towards the bedroom. “can you finish that mug and then can you please come to bed? I’m so tired and just really want a cuddle” you pleaded, turning round and pouting towards him. Dewey nodded. Pursing his lips with an emotionless expression, “yep”. He didn’t want you to go to bed yet. He knew once you went to sleep he would be alone again. Alone with his thoughts again.

*****

The room was still ice cold, but Dewey’s body pressed against your own was the perfect balance of heat and the cold air; your face snuggled into his chest, his arms holding you, running up and down your back, legs a tangled mess. But his breathing was heavy, and speedier than normal. You bent your head up to kiss him to which he complied. Burying your head back down you yawned, “night Dewey, I love y-“ you were cut off “how do you think the universe was created?”. Your eyes pinged open. What? “I have no idea. That’s definitely a question for the morning after coffee” you chuckled. Dewey sighed. You relaxed into him again and snuggled your face into his t-shirt, drowning yourself in his smell. Drifting, and drfiti-

“okay but realistically how many kids do you want?”. Again your eyes pinged open. You separated from him a little and looked into his eyes. They were big; and sparkling and staring at you. “what?” you questioned. Your face puzzled. Dewey intertwined his fingers with yours “because I think I want three. Two boys and a girl.. no two girls and a boy, yeah”. You pulled his hand towards you and kissed his knuckles, listening to him go on.

This is how it went for a little while. You talked about a lot of things. How many kids you both wanted, names you both liked, what your bucket list consisted of. Dewey was being enthusiastic for 1 in the morning and you could almost match him. That was until your eyes began to grow heavy again. yawning, you slung your arm and leg over him and closed your eyes, listening to him go on about why it would be best to have Christmas at your parents house this year. “because I mean your folks have the dogs and that’s the better pla-“ he gradually came to a halt when he felt your breathing slow down to little pace. He looked over at your eyes, no longer looking at him in awe anymore. Dewey’s pace picked up. His breathing getting a little faster, realising he was alone.

Dewey shifted in bed so that we was facing you again, hoping the movement would wake you up, but it didn’t. He traced his hand up and down your sides but you still didn’t stir. Dewey thought for a minute before he continued. He began to kiss your jaw, all the way down your neck. You moaned a little bit in your sleep. Dewey bit you harder just above your collar bone which made you jerk awake slightly “ow”. “sorry” he said muffled, making his way back up to your mouth. “Dewey, what are you doing?” you questioned as you felt his hand begin to pull down the straps of you tank top, exposing your breasts. “what does it look like?” he replied sarcastically. “well duuh, I mean why? Why now?”. Dewey kissed you, lovingly on your lips “don’t want you to fall asleep”. You kissed him back, dragging your arms up to rest on his shoulders, enjoying the cute little spontaneous make out session. Dewey shifted to lay over you, between your legs. He continued to kiss you and one of his hands began to pull down your shorts. Your eyes were still heavy and sleep was dazing over you. It was all so soft, and warm and sensual. Dewey moved his hand to glide up your waist slowly to your under boob, stroking the skin there. “dew I’m pretty tired I don’t know if I can be bothe-“ you were cut off by your own moaning as you felt Dewey swiftly insert his finger into you with no warning. It glided in and out a few times before he mumbled against your mouth “mm this okay?”, his finger slowed as if he was going to stop before you hummed, “yeah Dew don’t stop”. He smiled against your mouth  as he delicately joined his two fingers together, making your body roll against his own. He chuckled lightly at how your body moved with his, so rhythmically.

Dewey’s fingers were doing the job sweetly but you needed more. “give it to me dew” you moaned into his shoulder, biting down. Dewey wasn’t in the mood and the room suddenly felt too hot, and stuffy. He just wanted to keep you awake. He was really not in the right mood so he pretended not to hear you and moved his fingers to push into you more at a rougher rate. You were too drunk on the feeling of him to try and protest too much. “Dewey?” you moaned, waiting for him to shift. He heard you. But done nothing but use his other hand to press down on the small of your stomach, causing the space where his fingers were, smaller, making the action 1000 times more pleasurable for you. You were annoyed at him but nothing could now stop the tension that formed in your head and stomach, building and building until you finally released. He helped you ride it out before reaching down to kiss you, removing his fingers. You heavily breathed against his mouth, getting over your high, sleep slowly coming back to you. “what was that about? Why didn’t you get your cock out?” he chuckled at your bluntness. “I’m not in the mood, just wanted you to get off babe”. You knitted your eyebrows confused. That wasn’t like him. Dewey constantly had a boner. Walking around the kitchen with a pair of gym leggings was enough to get Dewey going.

You pushed his shoulder so that he would lay back down next to you. “is everything alright?” you asked him, your hand moving to play with his hair as he wrapped his arms around your waist and moved his leg to sit between yours. Dewey was silent for a minute. You kissed the top of his head. “yeah” he replied, muffled into your breasts. You questioned for a minute. The room remained quiet. You could feel him breathing heavily against your skin, but sleep was hanging over you, heavy. Your eyes again grew heavy, glancing over at the clock which read 3:03. You sighed at how late it was and closed your eyes, your whole body slowing down, getting ready to finally rest.

Dewey could feel your body relaxing again and he silently cursed, growing hot. He didn’t want to wake you up but he didn’t want to be alone. His breathing sped up even more as his mind raced and he felt trapped, like he couldn’t breathe, the room suddenly burning his skin. He pulled himself away from your embrace and took in a few deep breaths. He needed to open the window, he needed the fresh air. He threw the blankets off of him, legs spinning to get off of the bed. He was deeply breathing through his nose and exhaling through his mouth and felt as though his head would explode with the sudden tension and the thoughts he had been hiding all night pulling his brain apart. He grasped for the handle of the window, pulling it open and taking the deepest breath through his mouth. The freezing cold air, cooling him down. “you’re fine, you’re okay.. you’re okay” he told himself with closed eyes, his breathing slowing. His heart was beating so fast it felt like it would just come to a stop, but gradually, as he sucked in the cold air, it slowed. He felt sweaty, and cold at the same time. The window had to stay open. That’s why he had left it open earlier.

After calming himself down. He closed the window over but left it cracked open so the cold could lightly seep in. Dewey felt tears prick at his eyes. His head spinning with thoughts he didn’t know if he could share but he had to. He needed help. Looking over at your sleeping frame on the bed, he took one more shaky deep breath and went back into bed.

He covered himself with the duvet and scooted closer to you. He was nervous. He didn’t like discussing the demons in his head but he had to. He needed someone to listen and to tell him he was okay, someone to hold him. That person was you. You looked so peaceful. So soft and warm. Dewey lay down so that he was at eye level with you and reached for your hand. Softly he whispered “y/n, hey” you stirred, aware he was trying to get your attention, again. “y/n” he said again, rubbing his thumb along your hand. You pulled your hand away and turned to lay on your back, trying to get him to leave you to sleep, and slung your arm over your eyes. “y/n?” he pleaded again.

You sighed aggressively. Dewey had been keeping you awake all night. Why wouldn’t he just let you sleep, he knew you’d had a long day. Dewey felt his breathing become heavy again an his chest began to feel  tight, so he persisted, “y/n, I really gotta talk to you”. Something snapped in you a little bit. It must have been him constantly waking you up and not letting you sleep. Turning your head to view the clock which read 3:48 you snapped your head back looking at the ceiling “Dewey. What the hell could be that important at four o’clock in the morning. You’ve kept me up all night.” You hissed. Dewey was up, resting on his elbow now, facing you. The tightness in his chest was so bad, he was holding in his breath and the tension in his head was swelling, beginning to feel hot again. “I-I, ugh, I just needed to get a few things off my chest” he shyly replied. Again you huffed “what, and its something that can’t wait until tomorrow?” you almost barked.

There was a massive weight inside of Dewey. It made him feel like he couldn’t move. But he did. He turned round. To face the other side of the bed and he curled up. Why wouldn’t you listen to him. He needed you right now, really needed you. “n-no it can wait” he said, biting back the tears that threatened to spill, trembling.

Realising you had been a bit harsh, you settled yourself. “Dewey, what’s wrong?”. No reply. “Dew?”. The room remained silent. You shivered as you noticed the window had been opened again. You frowned, confused. You could suddenly hear Dewey, was he whimpering? You scooted over to him, placing your hand on his arm. He was trembling in a cold sweat. “Dewey, baby look at me”. You attempted to pull him round to you but he wouldn’t budge. Dewey sniffed and wiped his eyes. “Dewey” you applied more harshly. This time you climbed over his body, pulling his arms away from his chest, with a force, and putting them around your body. You slid your leg in between his as he began to relax within your embrace. Your hands went to his back, rubbing up and down, trying to get him to relax. “baby what’s wrong.” Dewey was still silent, but he was melting into your embrace. You pulled his chin up to look at his face. His curls were sticking to his hot, sweaty forehead, his cheeks dawning a rosy red colour and his eyes sparkling with troubled water. You felt awful for him. Your fingers moved his hair away from his face and then smoothed over his dampened cheeks. “Aw baby” you moved his head into your shoulder as you cuddled him, kissing his head. Dewey’s hand finally moved around your waist and held you tight. “I’m sorry Dew, I’m right here.. right here”. You stroked your hand along his hair, a tight grip on him. “I.. I just need you to hold me”. Those were the first words he spoke. Your heart crumbled and all you wanted was for him to feel better. “what’s wrong Dew? Just let me know what’s wrong, if there’s something I can do”. Dewey huffed into your chest, shakily before saying “bad mental health day”. That was all he had to say for you to understand, then it all clicked into place; the window being left open, the looking out at the stars, the keeping you awake all night. “baby you should have told me earlier” you kissed the top of his head again. “I just didn’t want to be alone” he said quietly. It made your heart break when he spoke it. You could feel the tears prick at your own eyes.

Dewey felt relaxed now. His breathing had calmed down and he was drowning on your scent, the one that always soothed him. He could actually feel his eyes growing heavy as you stroked his hair. He knew he was going to be in for a long night, but now he began to feel himself drift. He knew you were there and that he was safe. You could feel him melt into your body, his whole body slowing down. You both stayed silent for a little while, knowing he was falling. You held him tight until you could hear the soft breathing of him finally asleep.

You felt awful. Snapping at him like that earlier. You kissed the top of his head again and let the tears roll down your face. Dewey had always struggled with his mental health, but he was getting better. This was the first time this had happened in about a year and its why you hadn’t clicked about what was going on. You mentally beat yourself up for not realising. You couldn’t help but wonder what made him feel the way he did. You knew he was self-conscious about the way he looked, because he used to tell you that “girls want me to be something I’m not, mostly handsome” and he always said it in a jokey way but you both knew that deep down it hit him. Hard. You would see if he wanted to talk about it tomorrow.

*****

You woke up the next morning from Dewey kissing you on the forehead goodbye as he left for work. He didn’t say much. Just kissed you and said bye. You sighed, thinking about the events of the night, hoping he was okay. It was 10 in the morning and he wasn’t due home until around 5. You had the day off today. An idea came into your head as you heard the door close as Dewey left for the day. Another few hours of sleep, catch up and then head out and get your little plan ready; operation make Dew feel better.

*****

The clock read 5:15. Dewey would be home any minute. After you had gotten up, you got dressed, put Dewey’s favourite duvet covers in the washing along with his favourite bed time attire so they would be fresh for him coming home. You went out to the shops and you picked up bubble bath with his favourite scent, a bundle of his favourite snacks and drinks and something nice for you to put on for him, if the time felt right.

Once you came home, you changed over the duvet covers and put his fresh pyjamas on the bed for him. You put two towels on the radiator; one for you and one for him after your bath. Then you set up the fairy lights in the living room with a bunch of pillows and blankets on the couch, and his favourite snacks on the coffee table. Ten minutes before he was due to get home, you phoned in his favourite pizza place and ordered what he loved most. Finally, a few minutes before he would walk in the door you made coffee.

You stood at the door waiting for him; coffee in hand. You hoped he hadn’t had the worst day and hopefully he was feeling better. you heard the keys jingle in the door and you held your breath, hoping he would love everything you had set up for him in hopes to make him feel better. Dewey opened the door, his cheeks dawned a rosy pink colour and his eyes looked exhausted, he sighed but stopped when he seen you standing there, in his black sabbath t-shirt, arms stretched out holding a mug of coffee for him. “welcome home baby, I made you a cup of coffee.. with the right amount of sugar… just how you like it”.

[fox-moblin]

Can I request a fic where Twi pulls a risky move and almost dies and Time goes into parent mode and explains how worried he was for Twi's safety. Honestly, I feel like we don't have enough fics about Time's and Twilight's mentor - protege relationship. Bonus points if it's angsty. Also, love your writing so much!

*****

The last thing he hears is Time scream his name, and then water rushes over his head and he’s tumbling away.  The moblin in his arm jerks, struggling against his hold, but Twilight’s hold is true, even when the creature sends an elbow right into his chest and claws at his arm, ribbons of blood swirling into the surrounding water.  His breath threatens to leave him and he grits his teeth and kicks his legs, forcing himself to stay upright as they’re dragged down towards the sandy river bed.  He’s tossed by the current and hits the bottom, sand flying up in plumes and blocking any sight of the surface above so that the world goes dark as night.  The moblin twists, its roar muffled by the water and the thundering rush of the river around them.  Twilight shuts his eyes and prays.  

Just a little longer.  A little longer. 

He back collides with something solid, a slab of stone jutting up from the sand below, and the breath he’s struggled to keep in rushes from him lungs in a burst of bubbles.  He shuts his mouth, chest screaming.  The moblin in his grasp gives one more jerk, eyes blown wide, and then goes still before being ripped away by the current, its body tossed like a rag doll in the waves before exploding in a burst of dust that’s quickly swept away.  Twilight curls around himself, his hands clutched over his mouth; the water swirls around him like a vortex, bearing down on him like a pack of wolfos, and he forces back a cry as his body is rammed into another stone.  He kicks again, his sense of direction gone as he struggles to right himself.  His eyes burn along with his lungs and he jerks, body twisting as it betrays him, mouth open and desperate for air.  

He realizes, perhaps a bit belatedly, that this was a stupid thing to do.

Water rushes into his mouth and pain unlike anything he’s felt before wracks his entire being, exploding outward from his lungs as they scream against the flood he’s allowed past his lips.  He flashes to the first time he transformed; the fire that raced through his limbs and down his back, threatening to rip him apart from the inside out and tear through his skin.  He thinks this is worse.  He tries to cry out, but instead the world tilts dangerously as more water invades his body, black dancing at the edges of his vision.  The surface warps above him, mocking, so tantalizingly close that he thinks for a moment that he can breach it.  The world dips to black again.  

Time’s going to be angry, he thinks sluggishly.  He can’t feel his arms or legs, an eerie cold creeping in over his body.  The pain grows so intense that he finally gives up on thinking altogether; he’s afraid, but the part of his brain that could process why is too overcome by liquid agony to feel much more than the innate knowledge that death is lurking somewhere beneath the surface of his current state.  

There’s a bit of acceptance there as well.  

Black bleeds into his vision, spilled ink staining parchment, and he relents with surprising ease, welcoming the dizzying calm that seeps into his body and mind and numbs the pain.  His chest lurches once more and then whatever thoughts he still has are swept away by the river.

*****

“Don’t you dare give up!  I taught you better than this, Pup!”

He wakes to something pounding away at his chest like a mallet and he jerks, water gurgling up past his lips, and then he’s choking.  He feels himself forcibly turned over onto his side, a hand at his back and chest, supporting him, as he valiantly tries to dispel the entirety of the river from his lungs, before collapsing, limp, onto the ground again.  The hands rub at his bare skin and he notices for the first time that his shirt is gone.  He coughs again, weak, and closes his eyes.  

“Hey, hey.  Easy.  I’ve got you.”  The hands turn him over onto his back again and suddenly there’s one at his cheek, patting it lightly, while the other lifts his head up from the back of his neck.  “I’m here.” 

The hands are warm and calloused, gentle despite their firm presence, and then they’re gathering him up, one arm coming around to cradle his body.  He’s pressed against something warm and solid and he knows who it is without even opening his eyes; Twilight feels Time run a hand through his hair, brushing over the markings on his forehead.

“Stay with me, Pup. C’mon.”  He’s hugged closer and he tries, really tries to open his eyes, but they’re not cooperating.  Time pats his cheek again, rougher this time.  “Twilight…!  Stay with me, Twilight!”

He doesn’t realize he’s slipping away until he can no longer hear Time calling out above him or feel his arms around him; he’s floating, lonely and listless in a sea of milky white, his body as light as the clouds that he and Colin used to count above Ordon.  The air is thick here; every breath he takes is a struggle, as if the water from the river still sits heavy at the base of his lungs.  He feels muffled; like his entire being has been smothered in soft cloth.  It reminds him of the cloak that Wild likes to wear.  Makes him think of cold nights and huddling up with Time and Wild and the rest of their group by the fire in an attempt to keep whatever warmth they can find close and safe.  He wonders, idly, where the others are.  Where he is.  

It’s a long time before the outside world finally decides to come into focus again.  

He can, at least, open his eyes this time.  

The light of a lantern bobs joyfully above his head, swaying back and forth in the slight breeze of the night that filters through a nearby window.  Twilight blinks, his vision clearing slightly.  He can breathe a bit easier now, though there’s still a wheeze deep in the confines of his chest.  Something presses against him, another body with its arm arm thrown haphazardly over his stomach.  He turns his head ever so slightly to see Wild laying beside him, his face burrowed into Twilight’s chest.  He’s asleep, his breaths even and soft.  Twilight closes his eyes again, a hand coming up to rest on Wild’s back, and sighs.  He’s warm, in part due to Wild, and also due to the many blankets piled on top of him.  It’s pleasant and comfortable.  He shifts, snuggling down deeper.  

A hand finds his forehead before he can fully submit to sleep and he opens his eyes again to see Time standing over him, concern barely masked by his usually stern face.  Twilight swallows.

“Hey,” he croaks quietly.  Time grimaces, his hand pushing back Twilight’s hair.  Twilight says nothing more, just stares up at his mentor and waits.  He knows what’s coming.  

“That was stupid,” Time says quietly, and predictably.  Twilight nods in agreement, though that doesn’t seem to quell the anger that flashes behind Time’s eye.  His mentor glances down at Wild, that to the rest of the room, where Twilight can only assume the rest of the group are sleeping, before bending down closer and placing his forehead against Twilight’s.  Twilight breathes in deeply, a type of warmth spreading throughout his body.  Time pulls back, but remains close, crouching down so that he’s practically eye level with Twilight.  His hand stays at Twilight’s head, brush though his bangs.  Twilight feels himself nod towards sleep, but is stopped when Time lifts his chin roughly. 

“Not yet, Pup.  I’m not done lecturing you.”  

Twilight cracks a tired smile. 

“You’re not even lecturing me, Ol’ Man…”  

Time doesn’t seem too amused; he frowns, hand resting at the crown of Twilight’s head.  

“You scared me today,” he murmurs quietly and Twilight feels a pang of guilt. 

“I’m sorry.”

Time hums absently and adjusts his position to sit more comfortably on the floor, next to the bed.  He looks exhausted, eyes rimmed with dark circles and his hair messy and unkempt.  Twilight lifts his hand slightly and Time takes it without hesitation, gripping it tightly and holding it close.  He glances at Twilight.  

“That wasn’t the right way to handle that…”

“Is there ever a ‘right’ way to kill a rampaging monster?”

“Anything that doesn’t involve you drowning, or dying in general, is right,”  Time practically growls, his voice dying down at the end when Wild snuffles and presses closer to Twilight.  Time waits, before turning back to Twilight, his mouth drawn into a harsh line.  “Never pull that kind of shit again, yeah?”  He pauses.  “I can’t… I’d never forgive myself, you understand?”

Twilight swallows, too tired to argue.  Time sits back slightly, searching Twilight’s face, before sighing and looking away.  He squeezes Twilight’s hand, his thumb rubbing circles over Twilight’s knuckles.  Twilight squeezes back. 

“You should sleep,” Twilight manages and Time cocks an eyebrow, his lip twitching.  

“Oh?  You think I’m the one that needs sleep?” 

“Yeah,” Twilight rasps and smiles.  “You look like shit.”  

Time ducks his head at that, shoulders shaking quietly before he glances back up, a soft smile adorning his features.  He nods, a breathy chuckle escaping his lips, and reaches up to ruffles Twilight’s hair.  

“Same goes for you, Pup.” 

Twilight doesn’t have enough strength to properly respond; he simply lolls his head and hopes Time gets the message.  Time, luckily, seems to understand.  He shifts closer, pulling the covers up and under Twilight’s chin, before patting his cheek one more time.  

“Sleep, Pup,” he whispers, soft.  Twilight closes his eyes and hears the beginnings of a song, hummed by a rough voice.  It’s familiar and comforting.  Time is still holding his hand, grip soft but firm, and Twilight lets himself sink into the covers of the bed, content to slip away.  There’s a pause in the song and then the press of lips on his forehead and a murmur of good night, and he thinks, faintly, of Rusl and Uli.  

The songs starts again and Twilight sleeps.     

[fightmewiatch]

Heartbeat

Pairing: Chris (Destroyer) x Reader Prompt: When I say I want to be alone, I usually don’t want to be alone.

          The day you met Chris was one of the best days of your life. The shift at the diner had felt like it was never going to end, your feet ached, your back ached, and you were pretty sure someone had left you a plastic coin as a tip. You had been so desperate to go home, tempted to fake sick so your boss would send you out.

         But then Chris walked in, jaw fully covered in a rough looking beard that you would bet felt much softer, his hair short but not buzzed, limp against his forehead. He looked tired, but he still put on a smile when you met his steel blue eyes from across the floor, and he motioned to the counter. 

         That first time, he didn’t talk much, but he ordered a coffee, and that smile, so soft, every time you met his gaze, it made the rest of your shift feel a lot better. 

         It was almost clockwork, him coming in. Between the rush of midnight truckers - words you honestly never thought you’d say - and people coming to eat just after sunrise, Chris would slip through the door, take a seat at the counter, and order. Coffee, at first. If he was able to stay a little longer, he got coffee and a muffin. If he was in absolutely no rush, he’d order a plate - eggs, bacon, toast, hashbrowns if he was feeling adventurous. He was, hands down, your favorite customer. 

         He was also one of the few who had a genuine interest in conversation with you, and considering you worked the midnight to ten shift most of the time, and spent the rest of your day sleeping, or doing work for the classes you took online, having someone take a real interest in anything about you was a disarming, but lovely, feeling. 

         The sound of the plate hitting the counter made you wince, mumbling an apology despite the fact that the room was empty. You found yourself getting lost in your thoughts more and more - being alone for extended periods did that to you - but you were trying to stop it, knowing you had no awareness of the noise you made when you did. Despite your attempts to be quiet, that one sharp sound of the plate hitting the counter registered throughout the house, and within a moment, you heard the bedroom door open. You waited a few seconds, waited to hear the creak of the floor, before you ducked your head.

“I’m sorry.” A sigh filtered from the hallway, before Chris rounded the corner, looking exhausted, his gun in his hand. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Chris shook his head as you spoke, blindly flipping on the safety and setting his gun down, before he moved towards you, frowning. 

“What’re you doin’? It’s…” He trailed off, turning his head towards the stove a few feet away, staring almost blankly at the glowing blue numbers. “...fuckin’ hell, it’s not even fuckin’ three.” You winced slightly, glancing towards the clock, and shrugged as you turned back to the sink. 

“I couldn’t sleep on the couch any longer...neck’s starting to get a crick. Figured I’d...I don’t know...do something.” You didn’t look back at him as you finished emptying the dishwasher, but you knew he was frowning.

“What’re you sleepin’ on the couch for?”

“...you said you wanted to be alone tonight...so I...I left you alone.” 

         Your heart had ached when Chris stopped coming to the diner, if it was beating at all - some days, you had your doubts. Months, hell, it felt like years since the last time you’d seen him, days melting together without his smiling face to help you break it all up. So when the bell tinkled near dawn, the first Saturday shift you’d taken in six weeks, you didn’t think much of it, calling a welcome over your shoulder as you swapped out the coffee carafes, putting the full ones on the warmers and empty ones under the drip. You didn’t expect to see him, worn out and worse for wear but sure as fuck it was him, taking his usual seat at the counter, his eyes on you, his hair near buzzed and his beard a bit rougher than you’d been used to, but his lips ticked up in a smile at the mere sight of you. For the first time since he’d stopped coming, you were sure your heart was beating again.

         Chris sighed, now, rubbing his hands over his longer hair, buzz cut long gone, dragging them over his stubbled jaw, before he leaned against the island. 

“When I say I want to be alone, I usually don’t want to be alone,” he admitted, watching as you hesitated, fingers curled around the black and white mug you used for coffee. 

“...I didn’t want to push,” you replied, shaking your head. 

“I didn’t have you for months...fuck, all told, years, baby. Everyone else can leave me alone, but…” You bit your lip, releasing the mug back into the dishwasher, closing the door as you effectively abandoned the rest of the dishes, turning to face him. 

“...I was…” You paused, debating for a brief second, until you saw a flash of curiosity in his eyes. “...do you remember, when you asked me out?” Chris almost laughed, eyes crinkling as he smiled at you across the island.

“I was almost dead on my feet. Hadn’t slept in three days, maybe four, trying to get away from a job...only place I wanted to be was in that diner, with you.” You felt your face flush as he shook his head, smile growing just a little wider. “You didn’t ask, just...brought me my coffee…” Biting your lip, you pushed from the counter, moving to the island and standing opposite him as he rubbed his hand over his hair again. 

“Almost left you the pot...but you looked so tired, I was afraid you’d burn yourself,” you admitted, prompting him to laugh as he reached out for your hand.

“I asked you to come sit by me. Place was empty, knew you had time...asked you if the flirting was real, if you still felt that way...you have the prettiest blush,” Chris promised, his fingers coming up to graze your cheek as you blushed again, and laughed softly. “I didn’t even get the whole question out before you said yes. We didn’t even really plan anything, I just...waited til your shift was over, walked you home.”

“And never left,” you murmured, letting him tug your hand, guide you around the island. 

         That night at your door, you had every intention of hugging him, of telling him you couldn’t wait to see him again, of going inside alone and letting him go, too. But the moment his hands wound their way around your waist, when you finally felt his beard against your throat, his hair across your palm as you cupped the back of his head, you knew your intentions meant nothing. Instead, he kissed you, kissed you like he knew you, like he knew every inch of you, despite having never been this close to you. He held you with care, palms flat and warm on your back, as you cradled his head, welcoming his touch, his breath, his everything.  

         Even with the fire raging under his skin, and yours, he asked. He asked, every step of the way, if this was okay, if that was what you wanted. By the time the night was over, you were tangled together in your bed, head on his chest, his fingers in your hair, like long-time lovers finally falling together, settling into a place neither had ever been, but had always dreamt of. 

         He pulled you close, both of you forgetting about the dishes, about the noise, about everything that brought you to this moment, as you buried your face against his throat, arms curled beneath his as he enveloped you with his own. 

“I won’t leave you alone again,” you promised against his skin, tilting your head to kiss his jaw. Chris held you a little tighter, humming softly as you nodded towards the gun. “Wanna put that away? And then...cuddle?” Chris nodded, letting you wrap your arms around his midsection as you led him towards the table.

         There was no light in the bedroom, other than the glow of the moon through the window. A piece of thick black tape covered the numbers on the clock radio, preventing the unsettling red glow from touching the room. Chris settled onto the bed, shifting his arms as you crawled beneath the blanket and rested your head on his chest. Just like that first night, he fell asleep to the rhythmic motion of your breathing, I love you brushing warm across his skin, as you drifted off to the sound of his heart, as it beat in time with yours.

[asgardianthot]

Flesh And Bones – Part 8

Soulmate AU

Series Masterlist

A/N: been a while :l sorry for not updating for a while!! As usual I’m back with a lot written down!! Part 9 will be up soon (and also the last part of Funeral Chuckle, if you’re reading that one). Here, have some domesticity and some kisses and a lil angst :)

Words: 3187

*This work is also on AO3

"You're doing great, Barnes." Sam congratulated the man, encouraging him to keep going.

Bucky breathed hard through his nose, controlling his breath as he punched the bag down in the training area. While he worked on his punches, Sam monitored his improvements in the caution department.

The whole idea was for Bucky to be able to control his own strength when using his hands, so that he learned not to get himself hurt. Ergo, so that Sam wouldn't get hurt. Hydra had taught him to hit targets, not to care for himself while doing so. Whereas any trained soldier would land on their feet neatly and placing their weight on their toes, Bucky was told to land. At all costs. No matter if he wrecked his bones in the process. Thus, whereas Sam punched his targets in a way that wouldn't break his knuckles, balancing his strength, Bucky wasn't as preoccupied. He didn't mind the occasional sting, and if he got himself hurt, he healed pretty fast. Of course, that was before the bond.

Suddenly, Bucky began punching a bit rougher and Sam felt the familiar tingling on his knuckles, numbing his articulations a little.

"Easy." He warned Bucky.

The latter stopped with a grunt and dropped both arms to his sides.

"Sorry." He panted slightly.

"No, that was good." Sam made sure not to forget focusing on the positive advances, "You're getting a hold of this."

Barnes didn't nod, but he didn't seem to be negating the stated fact, either. Instead, he looked like he was considering it while he fetched his water bottle. He gulped down a quarter of it in one go, never losing eye contact with Sam, and panted out in exhaustion when he got rid of the bottle.

"You're not saying it out of pity?" he verified, tentatively.

Sam merely rolled his eyes.

"I don't pity you." He reminded Bucky, "And you really are learning this pretty fast."

The appellee reflected on the partial compliment for a second, and then his face grew a small smile.

"Great." He finally agreed, still working on steadying his breaths, "That means you're not getting hurt."

While Bucky didn't have anything meaningful to say or add, he couldn't look away from the man that had been couching him the past hour. He thought about how hard the adapting process would be and for how long, but having him right there and being able to appreciate the goodness that Sam irradiated, he thought about how much harder it would be not being Sam's partner.

"What?" Wilson eventually felt too observed.

Bucky wanted to say something cheesy. Desperately wanted to pamper Sam somehow, but he opted for closing the gap between them. He took one step closer until their bodies pressed slightly, and put a hand on Sam's waist.

"This okay?" he checked.

The smile that Sam bore was almost unnoticeable, but Bucky did catch it.

"Yeah." Sam breathed out.

As Bucky planted his own lips on his and pushed a wet kiss into them, Sam's insides swelled and churned in the best possible way. Be it through the excessive effort Barnes was putting into controlling the bond, or through that tiny kind gesture, Bucky conveyed how much he cared. And Sam had never felt so cared for before, or at least, not like that. Bucky was different. He was the kind of man who would swear to you his undying loyalty by getting back on his own two feet for you.

When their lips parted, Sam took a hold of the metal hand in his.

"Told you we could do this." He said with pride.

His words alluded the arm control and the strength balance, but he also meant the bond. And somehow, he was referring to the love part, also.

"Sorry I ever doubted it." Bucky smirked up at him.

-

The common room seemed to have come back to normality, finally. Seeing how nobody was avoiding anyone anymore, the heroes managed to eat breakfast while sharing the same space, and coexist like they used to.

In fact, the couple looked more comfortable than ever, plopped on the couch and watching TV. Bucky rested his body against Sam’s, while the latter wrapped one arm around him, occasionally running his fingers through his hair. Behind them and having their breakfast on the table, were Wanda and Steve.

“You guys are disgusting.” Wanda joked, disapproving the entire couch scene with her expression.

“You’re so jealous.” Bucky replied, not even dignifying her with a look, “Pass the remote?”

“Come get it.” The young woman scoffed.

Bucky twisted his neck as much as he could in his current position, only to give her an offended grimace.

“Come on!”

“You can’t get away from Sam for half a second? Is that it?” she teased.

“I don’t wanna get up.”

“Neither do I. Come get your remote.”

Finally, Sam interjected with annoyance. “I’ll get the remote.”

As he stood up and abandoned the embrace, Bucky groaned at the lack of support and dramatically let his body fall lopsided on the cushions.

“That’s exactly what I was avoiding.” He complained.

“Admitting that you were too comfortable?” Wanda narrowed her eyes in a mocking manner, “Just say it, lover boy.”

During the whole interaction, Steve had been hiding behind his morning paper– some habits die hard. Eventually, he had to at least acknowledge the childish playfulness filling the room. It was so refreshing, yet so different, coming from Bucky and Sam as a couple. The idea was still settling in the back of Steve’s mind, but he couldn’t deny it somehow felt right. Too right, like they were a couple the entire time and he just hadn’t noticed, with all the bickering and taunting.

Nevertheless, Steve laughed, “This will be easy getting used to.” He admitted, still focused on his paper.

“What’s gotten into you?” Bucky accused Wanda, even though he knew she was just messing with him.

“I’ve never seen you like this, it’s weird.” She explained, a disgusted look on her face, “I’m starting to think I want you to go back to your glum and glimmy self.”

“Not if I’m here.” Sam negated the possibility, sitting back on the couch, but not half as snugged and sunk as before.

The young woman cringed even harder at the sound of that, “Ew.”

Steve rose his sight to give Wanda an amused look, only for his eyes to be hyper-aware of the person walking in. Natasha stepped through the doors with a work tablet in hand and a preoccupied, vague expression.

Steve was the first to notice, “What is it?” he asked her in that very leader-ish tone that characterized him.

The redhead breathed, almost pacing, “I got a tip for a next mission. Looks pretty clean.”

Sam knew when Natasha was worried. It wasn’t hard to miss, but it also seemed like it wasn’t an urgent, life or death matter, thus he simply gave her a push so that she could explain the matter as quick as possible.

“And?”

The woman directed her eyes to Bucky, then at Sam, and she talked to the latter, exclusively. In fact, as she spoke, not even once did she take her eyes an inch away from Sam’s.

“It’s a Hydra base.” She set the information loose, ripped the Band-Aid off, “One of the last ones.”

Sam tensed up immediately, whereas, as attentive as he was to the smallest shift in Bucky’s breathing, he didn’t feel him tense up.

“Let me go see it.” Wilson stood up, meaning they should talk about it far away from the common room.

“Yeah, that’s probably better.” Nat agreed.

Ten seconds went by after the pair left the room, and the room was still immersed in sepulchral silence. When the sound of their heels died down in the distance, Steve stood up, not saying a word, and followed behind.

Bucky raised his eyebrows to himself, sourly, “That was smooth.” He said sarcastically.

Wanda felt sorry for his friend, seeing the way the other three had handled the situation.

“They just don’t wanna… trigger you, or whatever.” She tried to ease the awkwardness while standing up from her seat.

She plopped down on the couch next to him, rested her head on his shoulder and hugged her legs to her body. She was snugging close to him, almost like trying to fill the void Sam had just left, since she noticed how Bucky had grown accustomed to physical comfort.

“Well, I’m fine.” Bucky replied dryly and with a clear hint of annoyance, “I can deal with it.”

“I know that.” At the lack of reaction, Maximoff lifted her head and frowned up at the man, “Hey. I know that. And I’m sure they… sort of know that, too.”

That uncertainty caused Bucky to snort, for not even the person supposed to be comforting him believed that to be true.

“Yeah, well. They already think I’m a ticking time bomb, right?”

As much as Wanda wished to speak the truth, she also didn’t know the answer for sure. Maybe they did expect Bucky to crumble at any moment. Maybe Rhodey or Steve or Tony or even Natasha didn’t see how resilient the man had been, and therefore, were just waiting for him to crack under pressure. She couldn’t know.

“I don’t think Sam believes that.” She said honestly, for that’s really all she had, “I think he trusts your mind as much as I do, which is a lot.”

But Bucky didn’t seem convinced. Can’t convince someone of something you’re not sure about yourself. So she offered everything she could and held his hand in hers.

“What do we say?” she asked for him to recite the comfort words they had set themselves.

Bucky nodded, agreeing to recite them, because agreeing to verse it meant he believed the words at that exact moment.

“We are not their weapon.” He spoke in that tone which one uses when narrating a memorized passage, “They did not create us.”

“That’s right.”

While Bucky digested the saying, assuredly trusting the meaning of it, Wanda took a big breath. It was never a good time when they had to resort to the mantra, and remembering their gloomy past never brought a smile to their faces. They continued watching TV, pretending to not be thinking about whatever the other heroes were discussing.

-

A full day passed, and Sam still hadn’t received a single opinion nor approach from his soulmate. He assumed he had to ask about the tense subject himself, but the timing was never right, because for the past twenty-four hours, Bucky hadn’t spent more than five minutes with him. Deep in the most concealed parts of his mind, where he was sometimes selfish, Sam felt a little offended. He understood, however, the logical reason behind Bucky’s reservations.

That didn’t mean he didn’t think he should end the secrecy. So Wilson walked inside Bucky’s room, seeing the door wide open, and heard the noise of a human coming from the bathroom. He found Bucky brushing his teeth, and he leaned on the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Hey.” He spoke rather gently, “Are you avoiding me?"

"I'm brushing my teeth.” Barnes answered like it was nothing, although it was muffled by the toothpaste; he spat the foamy liquid on the sink before talking again, “Didn't think you'd be so clingy."

"I'm serious." Sam lowered his tone.

That caused Bucky to turn serious as well. He rinsed his mouth with water, then cleaned his face with the questionably fresh towel that was laying around.

"Of course I'm not.” He was genuine this time, but he still walked to his room, which made Sam think that he definitely was being avoided before, “What's wrong?"

"They moved the operation.” Sam followed behind, “We gotta head down tomorrow."

"Okay."

"You got nothing to say?” Wilson insisted, earning a simple shrug from his partner, “Buck, come on. I'm just worried, 's all. I don't think you should come."

"I'm fine. Why wouldn't I?” Bucky sat on an armchair to put on his shoes.

For all Sam knew, he had caught Bucky during his morning routine, but through his currently paranoid brain, it seemed like the soldier had chosen to do all that stuff to keep himself busy and not having to engage in a heavy heart-to-heart. And Sam simply wished to look Bucky in the eye and get the truth out of him, but he realized that was a little egoist.

By the time Wilson was done with his careful thinking, Bucky had both shoes on and was standing to fulfill another task.

"Because." Sam started while Bucky walked past him; he sighed, "Just be honest. If you don't wanna join, no one will blame you."

"Yeah, you will."

The easiness which Bucky spat that out with made Sam frown. Although Bucky looked for something inside his closet, Sam walked closer and held his arm tenderly as a way of asking him to turn around.

"No, we won't." Sam lowered his head, believing the accusation to be as far off as possible.

"You said it yourself, Sam.” Bucky tilted his head, “You think I'm a lazy-ass for not doing shit all day and never showing up to meetings."

The words were harsh. But they weren’t one hundred percent false. Sam took a step back, his head falling down as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He remembered all the times he’d call Bucky those exact things as a joke, before they knew about the bond. Back when their way of interacting consisted of mean teasing and fake disqualifications.

"I'm sorry.” He let out along with a big puff of air, “I never said that for real, though-"

"But you did.” Barnes interrupted him, “ ’Cause it's true."

"No, it's not.” Sam rushed to put both hands on Bucky’s arms, the softest way possible, yet in a desperate attempt to get through Bucky’s thick skull, “You can take all the time you need to get back into superhero gig."

"Back?”

There was a moment of silence, of absolute uncertainty from Sam’s part, before he decided to let go of Bucky’s hold. Clearly, there were many things on his soulmate’s mind that he didn’t know about. And sadly enough, there was no one to blame. It was just how things rolled out to be. Which was why Sam simply waited for Bucky to speak up.

Which he did, in an upset tone, “No, Sam, I… I've never been much of a hero to begin with. That’s you, you were one before the Avengers, saving lives in goddamn Afghanistan. Hell, saving depressed veteran's lives-"

"Watch it." Wilson had to remind him to still be respectful, even if Bucky’s frustration was being directed towards him.

Bucky came to his senses and stopped before taking a breath.

"My point is, I'm not you. I was a dumb kid enlisting to shoot some Nazis. Then I was some dumb kid following m'boy Steve to shoot some Nazis. Then I was whatever they made of me."

Wilson shook his head, "You're more than that. You're more than them."

"Maybe.” Bucky found himself saying something that contradicted his and Wanda’s mantra, and it shattered his own heart for a second, “Won't find that out unless I start facing them, instead of lying here watching TV all day."

Sam, once again, reached for his partner physically by placing his hands on Bucky’s shoulders, this time his grasp a little more invasive.

"So you wanna prove yourself, okay. Do it for you. Not for the team, not for Hydra. Not even for me."

"I have to.” Bucky insisted, raising his voice and drawing disappointed eyebrows on Wilson, “Sam, you're the good guy. I've never been that guy, if I could just...”

When he noticed how hyperventilated he had turned, Bucky cut himself off. Sam waited patiently as the man looked down and shut his eyes.

Bucky started whispering to himself, “We’re not their weapon. They did not create us.”

Sam couldn’t miss it.

“What’s that?” He asked cautiously.

When Bucky looked up at him, there was the tiniest bit of fear in his pupils. Now that he thought about it, the action of mumbling to himself, he thought, must have made Sam think he’s crazy. Plus, in Bucky’s mind, Sam already believed him to be a tad unstable, so he began regretting doing it in the first place.

But he kept it together and replied as nonchalant as he could, given the circumstances.

“Just something Wanda and I say. To, you know… remember.” He brushed it off.

Sam wasn’t having none of that minimizing crap. Inside that previously mentioned, recondite place in his brain where he sometimes was selfish, he desired to know Bucky’s every thought. Outside that brain section, he understood why that was not only impossible but also a foul wish, which is why he kept it locked there, in his selfish box; it still didn’t negate the fact that he hoped to understand Bucky as much as Bucky could make himself understood. Balancing all that, Sam didn’t push too far, but kept his tone flat and familiar.

“Remember what?”

Bucky bit the inside of his cheek for a second before loosening his tense shoulders and responding truthfully, “That we were people before they experimented on us.”

It made sense to Sam in a way that it didn’t; he got the message, but he couldn’t possibly understand how it felt to be neither Wanda nor Bucky. Sam had never been transformed and made into a weapon. His issues with the Army would never compare to being Hydra’s pet, or Strucker’s pet, and it made sense that they would bond over that simple, and at the same time very complex premise: No matter what they did to them or made them do, they were someone to begin with. They changed them, but they do not control this version of them. They are their own people.

Sam couldn’t conceal his sad grin, as he thought that the saying, the mutuality of it and the shared experience, was the nicest thing he’d heard, however it was also unbelievably sad that they needed one.

Bucky didn’t appreciate the pitiful look.

“This is what I mean, you… you think I’m so goddamn breakable.”

“I think you’re exactly the opposite.” Sam corrected him, “You’re the strongest man I’ve ever met. But you can also give yourself a break, you know that? Taking down a Hydra base might be too much.”

Barnes accepted the words, although he didn’t give up his initiative.

“I’ll never know if I don’t push myself.” He suddenly turned to Sam’s eyes as if they were some sort of haven, which, in some level they were, “ ‘sides, you’ll be there with me, right?”

“Yes.” Sam pushed the affirmation almost aggressively, not even waiting for Bucky to finish his thought, “Yes, of course.” He forced Bucky into a hug.

Being the tough love kind of guy, Bucky surrendered to the physical gesture and let his head fall on Sam’s shoulder.