#slowly but steadily i will be doing more tags that i've been tagged in. this is the longest one i think

[xxchumanixx]

Thought Contagion

Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: After a one night stand he ghosted you. When forced to talk, the lines slowly start to blur. Warnings/Tags: hurt, angst, fluff in the end, mentions of a one night stand, reader has the ability to communicate via thoughts and move objects Word count: 4.397 Authors note: I just love him. Do I need to say more? It's 4 am, and I'm dead. So this might make no sense at all, but hey I somehow managed to write this delusional on tiredness.

Dr. Raynor's office

The clock on the wall ticked steadily, almost matching your heartbeat.

"Did you dream of him again?" she wanted to know, eyes closely watching you.

"No, I haven't dreamt of him in a long time now... but he contacted me." you gave back, fingers interlocked, fumbling with each other.

"Did he call you? Text?"

"No, he contacted me through my thoughts."

"That he can do?"

"When the will is there, yes."

"There has to be a deep connection between you for him to do that."

"No... not anymore."

"So there was a connection."

"Was. It doesn't exist anymore."

"What happened between you two?"

"We slept with each other. And after he left without me noticing, I never heard of him again."

She nodded to herself, carefully considering what you told her.

"Do you have feelings for him?"

"I've had feelings for him for almost ten years now."

You knew it wasn't right, not like this. When you first saw him, it was at the museum, Steve telling you everything about him. How brave he was, courageous and caring. How he looked after Steve, when no one else was left.

You developed feelings for someone who didn't even exist anymore, at least that was what everyone thought.

Who would have known, that he was still alive, breathing and killing.

"Do you know him this long?" she asked, head tilted.

"No. I met him, after Steve brought him back. I was there, when they brought him to Wakanda and I visited him during his rehabilitation. Then, when Thanos blib'd us, he was gone. And after he returned a few months ago, it just happened. I don't know if it was frustration, after Steve left us, or what else it was, but we lost control for a moment."

"Control over what? Your feelings?"

"He doesn't have any feelings for me."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Why do you think he ghosted me?" you chuckled dryly, brows furrowed as you looked at her like she was an alien.

You had to bite your lip not to snarl at her, send biting words her way. She was only trying to help you, had been for a few months now.

But sometimes, she didn't seem to understand you.

"Maybe because he was scared? Didn't know how to handle his feelings?" she suggested, cocking a brow.

"No, James Barnes doesn't have such feelings - only sadness and anger." you told her, the bitter feeling of guilt stinging on your tongue.

"Was it these feelings, that led to him sleeping with you? His anger, his sadness?"

"A moment of weakness, nothing more."

She wrote something into her notebook, before she tapped her pen on the paper. "What did he want?"

"He wanted me to help him."

You flinched, when suddenly a sharp pain tore through your head.

What the hell?

"Y/N?"

You believed you heard a voice, one that sounded painfully familiar.

"Y/N?" There it was again, and you sighed shakily, feelings starting to mix in a dangerous cocktail. "James?" you answered in a thought, eyes closing, as you tried not to betray your feelings with a quiver of your voice.

It must have taken him a lot to contact you through your thoughts.

You were a telepath, able to communicate via thoughts, as well as moving objects through the air. But it took a lot of willpower, to contact you through your thoughts, especially when it was over such a great distance.

And by someone like James Buchanan Barnes.

"Oh thank god." you heard him mumble, as your belly churned.

After you've spent the night together and he left, you hadn't heard from him. Why would he contact you like that of all ways? Why contact you at all?

"What do you want?" you returned coldly, teeth gritted, as you sat up in bed. You were just about to sleep, already tucked under your covers, when he contacted you.

The anger bubbling up in your stomach made it hard for you to concentrate, but the curiosity was the slightest bit stronger.

"I need your help."

Eyes widening, you fumed. Hands clenched into fists, the books in the bookcase started to rattle, trinkets threatening to tumble over.

Oh, the nerve he had - he had to be fucking kidding you.

"You need my help?" you seethed, not able to contain the angry chuckle that escaped your lips. "You have to be kidding me."

It was silent for a few moments and you started to think he might have cut the connection, when you heard him sigh.

"I-" he started, but was cut off by another voice. "What are you doing?" you heard the voice ask - Sam. "Are you praying or something?"

You could basically hear Bucky's eyes roll in their sockets, as he sighed angrily. "No, I'm not." he retorted, scoffing. "I'm-" he cut himself off this time, most likely rubbing the stubble on his chin. "I'm talking to Y/N."

It was silent for another moment, before you heard Sam again. "How? Where's your phone? Or are you communicating through prayers?"

Rolling your eyes, you shook your head.

"Forgot that she can communicate via thought?" Bucky gave back, sounding fed up. "That's possible?" Sam sounded surprised. "Over this distance? What do you want from her anyways? Thought you guys aren't talking."

Cocking a brow you huffed, and you heard Bucky stutter incoherently, eventually finding his words. "No- I-I mean, yes. We need her help if we want to find them!"

"Find whom?" you wanted to know, scrambling for the laptop that was under your bed, flipping it open, despite your better judgement. "What happened anyways?" Sam questioned, his curiosity getting the best of him.

Since when were they teaming up?

"Did you hear about the group 'Flagsmashers'?" Bucky asked, focusing back on you. "Of course, do you think I live under a rock?" you scoffed in return.

He rolled his eyes, you swear he did.

"Well, they plan something big and we can't find them." he explained, ignoring Sam who was still demanding an answer. "We need satellite pictures or video or whatever. Sharon can't hack into them."

"Sharon?" you retorted, huffing. You hadn't seen her since she had to flee, now knowing why. She must have holed up wherever Sam and Bucky where. "What makes you think I have access to satellites wherever you are?"

He hesitated, as you grew impatient.

"And what exactly makes you think I'd help you?"

He must have been very desperate if he contacted you of all people.

"After all I thought we weren't talking?"

He was frustrated, you could tell. You could feel it seeping into your bones.

"They are killing dozens of innocent people!" he explained, anger and frustration filtering through his voice. "Could you please help us? I wouldn't ask if I had another option."

I wouldn't ask you of all people.

"Already on it." you mumbled, as you were already typing on your laptop, telling yourself you were doing this for the innocent people he mentioned, ignoring your aching heart.

The group he was talking about was all over the news lately, gathering more followers each day. They were a threat, and no matter how much you despised talking to Bucky, you knew you had to help them.

Going through the various pictures, you scanned them for the group. "Found 'em." you announced, zooming in on a picture.

"I'll send Sam the location."

Bucky made a noise like he wanted to protest, say something like 'Why not sent it to me?', but he must have remembered that you weren't talking.

"Thank you." you heard him mutter, before he abruptly cut the connection, leaving you wide awake.

Closing your eyes you tried to hold back the tears. It was pointless crying over him, you did for a while now.

It never changed anything for you.

But, as Bucky was forming a plan with Sam, he could hear it clear as day - the single sob that managed to spill, leaving him wondering if he really heard it, or if he just imagined it.

"Did you help him?" Dr. Raynor asked, brows furrowed. She as well had heard about the group of terrorists, and she had talked to Sam and Bucky not long ago.

"I had to." you retorted, huffing.

"Why? Because he asked you to?"

"Because it was the right thing to do."

"Because of this group they are trying to stop?"

"Yes."

She nodded to herself, biting her cheek.

"How do you feel about John Walker being the new Captain America?"

Your eyes snapped to hers, hands stopping their trembling. "Don't call him that."

"Why not? Doesn't he fit your expectations?"

You chuckled dryly, smirking at her. "My expectations?" you wanted to know, leaning forward with a cocked brow. "Steven Grant Rogers was my best friend. He was my anchor, and when he left, living a life in the past with Peggy Carter, he fulfilled his greatest wish. Do I hate him for leaving me behind? Yes, I do. But I support him and his decision nonetheless. He gave the shield to Sam, who gave it away. Who am I to have expectations, when my biggest hope of someone worthy stepping into these massive footprints has been so utterly disappointed?"

Her forehead creased in thought, tapping the pen on the notebook again. The sound was so familiar already, that you had started to ignore it a long time ago.

"John Walker is said to be a good man. Don't you think he will make a good replacement for Captain America?"

"He can be good all he wants, wear the medals he obtained with pride - but he'll never be like us. The Avengers, people that gave everything for others, never once thinking about ourselves. Did we get any medals when we stopped Thanos? When Tony undid the blib, sacrificing himself? No. My best friend - my sister - died, forcing my dad to forever feel guilty for not dying in her place. Can she be replaced? No. Just as Steve can't be replaced. But Sam was the best option to be the next Cap."

"You're dad?"

"Clint. He took me under his wing almost fifteen years ago. He's the dad I never had."

She nodded, scribbling something down again.

"Will you talk to him again?"

Your brows furrowed, remembering the conversation you had with your dad only this morning.

"James."

Sighing, you leaned back against the cushions again, crossing your arms over your chest.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Why not?" you repeated her words, anger bubbling up yet again, as your eyes widened in disbelieve. "James Buchanan Barnes ghosted me after we had sex, only contacting me to get my help. After that, he ghosted me again. And you're asking why not?"

She heaved a sigh, glancing at her watch only to see that she had another thirty minutes with you.

It wasn't that she didn't like you, but you reminded her of Bucky in your stubborn and deflective ways.

"Maybe you should." she spoke, tilting her head. "Talk to him, demand answers as to why exactly he ghosted you."

Scoffing, you stood, feeling the sudden urge to leave, get the hell out of there.

"Sit." she demanded sharply, the tapping of her pen coming to a halt.

Groaning, you did.

"Why don't you help them in trying to stop this group of terrorists for starters?" she suggested, leaning forwards on her elbows, that were resting on her thighs. "And maybe you can talk to him afterwards."

You laughed at her suggestion, declaring her insane.

But you couldn't deny the aching in your heart at the prospect.

You yearned for his touch, his scent, his voice. The way his fingertips ghosted over your skin, lips brushing over the shell of your ear as he whispered sweet nothings into it, hips connecting with yours over and over again.

Dr. Raynor smirked, like she was able to read your thoughts. She wasn't, though she still seemed to know exactly what you were thinking.

Cheeks reddening, you cleared your throat, deciding that you were in need of another topic.

"How was your weekend?"

____

You hated this.

Why exactly did she manage to convince you to follow them, again?

You were late, seeing as the whole scene was crowded, the Flagsmashers already captured, their leader dead. She was a young girl, barely old enough to drink legally.

You were standing at the rear of the ambulance, watching Sam and Bucky who were stood at the front, backs turned towards you. They didn't know you were there yet, talking to each other.

Your heart was thundering in your chest, and you were scared Bucky could hear it with his super soldier hearing.

You were contemplating if you should turn around and hurry the fuck out of there, but it was too late, when they turned instead, heading towards you.

They hadn't seen you yet, but when Sam looked up, his steps faltered, causing Bucky to look your way as well. He stopped dead in his tracks, jaw slack, before it clenched.

Sam hesitantly closed the distance, whilst Bucky was glued to the spot.

"Hey." he voiced, glancing back at the frozen super soldier. "I'll leave you to talk."

"What if I don't want to?"

"You should."

He patted you on the shoulder, before he left for someone that called out to him.

Your hands trembled, your whole body trembled, as you both stared at each other. Neither of you knew what to say, neither wanting to be the first to speak.

"Should have expected you to turn up here." he muttered, and you scoffed. "Believe me, I'm not here because I wanted to be." you retorted as equally cold, shoving your hands into the pockets of your jacket.

He cocked a brow, mimicking the movement, his arm reflecting the light. "Why are you here then?" he wanted to know, fighting the urge to lean against the ambulance.

He didn't want to come over as relaxed, because he definitely wasn't with you standing in front of him.

Not anymore.

He hadn't expected you to show up, he had hoped you wouldn't.

"I wanted to see if you need more help with the Flagsmashers." you explained, looking past him. "You already helped enough with the location." he returned, unwavering.

Nodding, you bit your lip, looking away.

He was shoving you away, again.

"Well, then I suppose I will go." you spoke, swallowing. "Should have expected not to be welcomed."

You didn't mean to say it out loud, really. It just slipped through somehow.

His brows furrowed, eyes narrowing. "Welcomed?" he asked, taking a step closer as his head tilted. "No one invited you. You didn't need to come."

Huffing, you nodded again.

"Well, and no one invited you." you retorted sharply, looking back up at him. "Yet you came as well, before you left without a word."

His jaw clenched, teeth gritted.

"But hey, lets not talk about it, its not worth mentioning anyways."

You wanted to scratch his ego, your own lying broken in a corner. It worked, as he took another step closer, head tilted. Lowering his voice, he spoke exactly what you were expecting him to.

"Didn't sound not 'worth mentioning' it, considering the way you cried my name out for everyone in the building to hear."

You shivered involuntarily, trying not to let him see, though.

He wasn't wrong, but you wouldn't have him know that.

"Really? Maybe I'm just a good actress."

He scoffed, chuckling dryly.

"Just as good as you're at sneaking out."

He fumed at your words, face hardening. His arm whirred quietly, so hard he must have been clenching his hands into fists.

You stared each other down, as your heart silently begged for you to stop. But you were caught in the moment, caught in your anger and hurt.

When neither of you said anything for a good minute, you shook your head and turned around, starting to walk away.

You should have known he wouldn't talk to you.

"Do you think it was easy?" he shouted after you, causing you to halt in your movement.

"Do you think it was easy? After everything that happened, being turned to dust, returning, only for Steve to leave me behind?"

You turned back around, scoffing. "He didn't leave only you." you reminded him, voice harsh. "He left Sam and I as well. He left us all behind, staying in the past to spend his life with Peggy - the only wish he ever had. He was selfish, yes, but he knew we'd manage."

He shook his head, biting his cheek.

"I failed him."

You couldn't help but laugh, frustration growing thicker. "Why do you think so?"

His eyes were glued to the floor, before he looked back up at you.

"I tried, but I didn't manage." he explained, taking a step closer, partly closing the distance you had created. "I spiraled downwards, losing control. I-" he cut himself off, eyes flitting to the sky above you, as he licked his lips, before he looked back at you.

"I lost the little ounce of control I had left when I let you in." he continued, shaking his head, as he bit down on his cheek, the sting momentarily distracting him from his raging heart. "When we- when we spent that night together, I panicked. I hadn't done something like that since the forties, and I didn't want to drag you down into the hole I was falling into."

You had to swallow, eyes stinging, even though you did your best to ignore it.

"And what about me?" you wanted to know, clearing your throat, as your voice quivered. "What about the hole I was falling into?"

His jaw ticked, and he swallowed.

When he didn't answer, you continued.

"You left me behind, in the moment I was the most vulnerable. I needed you, and you left - as well."

He shook his head, hand brushing through his hair. "You don't need me."

"I shouldn't need you." you corrected him, shaking your head with a frown, as you took a step closer. "When Steve first told me about you, showing me your picture at the museum I knew I was done for. Hell, when you stood in front of me, breathing and not dead, like you were believed to be, I thought I was dreaming. I envied Steve, because he made you sound like the best person on earth."

He scoffed, but didn't interrupt you further, eyes downcast.

"I wanted to get to know you, wanted to see if Steve was right." you continued, fighting a smile, losing. "He was, and when we spent more time together, I started to see what he saw. And then you turned into dust. The whole world tilted, for five years. You were gone, Sam, my dad and my whole family suddenly vanished. And when you returned I was so happy - only for you to leave me again. I know it probably didn't mean anything to you, but for me it did."

You breathed in shakily, stopping your own rambling, heart hammering in your chest, threatening to break through.

"You're wrong." he muttered, swallowing, as he locked eyes with you. "It did mean something to me - it meant the whole world to me. You didn't judge me, no matter what I did. You made me forget. You where there the whole time, accompanying me the whole way. But when Steve-" he choked on his breath, shaking his head with tears glistening in his eyes.

"I lost it. And I couldn't risk bringing you in harms way - my way. I didn't want to hurt you."

Sniffing, you bit on your cheek, almost drawing blood.

"But you did." you whispered, tears making your eyes burn, blurring your sight. "You did, when you pushed me away. You where the only constant I had left, and you pushed me away."

He nodded, sniffing as well. "I know, doll." he spoke, biting his lip. "I know."

Even though you felt a weight lift from your shoulders, it didn't feel as relieving as it should have. A tear fell, but you didn't brush it away.

You fell silent, lost in thought.

Somehow, you just confessed your feelings to him, stripped them bare for him to see. Leaving you even more vulnerable.

Your fingers tapped on your thigh in a nervous habit, wishing you could read Bucky's mind. Even though you were able to communicate via thought, you weren't actually able to read other peoples thoughts.

"Will you forgive me?" he suddenly rasped out, eyes staying a second longer on the ground, before they found yours, hope glistening in them. He sounded so broken, so vulnerable, like you never heard him before.

"Please, Y/N."

You swallowed at the nerves bubbling up, slowly starting to nod. "Yes, Bucky." you breathed out, sniffing. "Yes, I forgive you."

How were you supposed to stay angry at him, after what he just told you? After everything that had happened?

He breathed a sigh of relief, nodding to himself, as his eyes closed for a moment.

A tear slipped past his eyelashes, and he bit his lip. You had only seen him cry once, causing you to inhale shakily at the memory.

He wiped at the salty liquid, before his eyes opened again, his feet taking him closer to you, until he was as close as he was the last time you had seen him in person.

You could smell his familiar cologne, feel the heat his body radiated.

His flesh fingers hesitantly moved, brushing a few stray strands of hair out of your face, softly cupping your cheek. The action made you shiver, goosebumps covering your arms, as you leaned into his warm touch the slightest bit, eyes locked onto his blue ones.

"I'm so sorry, doll." he rasped out, eyes fighting to stay on yours. "I did what I thought was best for you, but I know now, that I was wrong. I'm having nightmares again, but I'm working on it. I'm working on everything, trying to get a bit of the old me back to life - the one Steve had told you all these stories about."

You knew about his nightmares, even though they were different now, thanks to the Dora Milaje who had managed to free him of the Winter Soldier state.

He didn't turn into him anymore, not for the briefest of moments. Something he would forever be grateful for.

"I'm an idiot." he mumbled, eyes leaving yours, his hand leaving your face, falling back at his side with his head downcast. "I never should have left - never should have let this happen. I should have listened to Dr. Raynor."

You cocked a brow at his words, head tilting to somehow meet his gaze. "What do you mean?"

He sighed heavily, swallowing, as his nerves got the best of him. "I mean that I should have talked to you, instead of just leaving you behind." he explained, tongue brushing over his lip, hesitating. "Should have told you how I feel."

You inhaled sharply, hands starting their nervous trembling at your sides again.

"What do you feel?" you managed to breathe out, and his eyes met yours again, the intensity of his gaze stealing your breath.

His lips parted, only for his tongue to wet them again. He searched for the right words, soon giving up and opting for the simpler option instead.

"I love you, Y/N."

Your breathing hitched, heart stumbling, before it doubled its speed.

"You're pure, soft and so lovingly." he continued, hands cupping your face. There the words were. "You never once judged me, not even in my darkest hours. You're the thing that kept me going, made me push through to get rid of the Winter Soldier. I wanted to be better - for you. But I fucked up, so badly. I fell into an old habit, pushing you away so you wouldn't get hurt, but instead I did exactly that: hurting you. And I'm a fucking coward for pushing you away, and not pulling you closer instead, now that I'm actually able to."

Words had left you, only tears managed to spill. He brushed them away with his thumbs, one cold and one warm, yet they were both so soft.

His eyes closed, forehead brushing yours. Your eyes fluttered closed as well, breathing him in.

"Working with Sam on this distracted me enough to forget it for a moment." he spoke quietly, leaving you to wonder how exactly that had happened. "But I was selfish when I contacted you, asking for help. I wanted to hear your voice, even if you would have just shouted at me, telling me to never talk to you again."

You bit your lip, more tears falling.

"I would have never." you told him, eyes squinting, even though they were already closed. "I love you too much."

His body moved abruptly, a sob breaking through his lips. It was one of relief and deep shame.

He nodded, his forehead leaving yours to press kisses to your face. Your cheeks, your forehead, your nose, until he finally met your lips with his own.

You tasted the salty remnants of your combined tears on your lips, but neither of you cared. Hands wrapping around his neck, brushing through his hair, you tugged him closer.

Something wet hit your cheek, but you couldn't tell if it were your tears, or his.

His hands on your cheeks tilted your head back, deepening the kiss. His tongue brushed yours, an action so soft it left you yearning for more.

When his lips left yours, you sighed, eyes slowly opening to meet his blue ones. His lips were kiss swollen, but so were yours.

"He took the shield." Bucky breathed out with shining eyes, fingers dancing through your hair. Nodding, you couldn't help but smile. "I know. Finally."

He chuckled quietly, before his lips connected with yours again.

"Now that this mission is complete, I'm all yours." he promised, forehead meeting yours again. "I won't ever do the mistake of pushing you away again, I promise."

You smiled, feeling the tears return, happy ones this time.

"I'm yours." he repeated, lips meeting your cheek. "I'm yours."

"I know." you returned, eyes fluttering closed.

"And I'm yours."

[bellaxgiornata]

Seeking Forgiveness [Part Nine]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word Count: 4k [Series Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+ contains angst, emotional hurt, delayed comfort, pregnant Reader, mentions/fear of miscarriage

a/n: Long time no update, I know. I was stalled with this fic because it wasn't supposed to be long, but then it grew into something bigger and needed a new direction and it took me a bit to figure that out. Now I think I've found it. Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Matt’s fingers slowly ran over the braille document on the table before himself, his mind struggling to focus on the work he was supposed to be accomplishing right now. He'd promised Fog yesterday at the office that he'd help him sift through some more information for a case they'd been working on first thing in the morning, but his mind just couldn't stay on task. Repeatedly he'd had to run his fingers over the letters just to get a couple of them to form words in his mind, but then in mere seconds he'd forgotten what he'd just read.

But how could he focus on work right now with what he was doing later today? The only thing he could think about since the moment he’d woken up and shuffled out of his bedroom this morning was you. Because today was Saturday. It was the day you’d agreed to meet with him for that coffee where you’d planned to have an important conversation with him. And as much as Matt had tried not to let himself hope for too much to come from this talk, he couldn't stop that hope from growing inside of himself. It had been steadily growing brighter and brighter ever since you’d first agreed to meet the other night. 

As his fingers traced the braille letters of the same line on the page yet again, Matt could feel the weight of Foggy’s eyes on him from across his kitchen table. He could tell Foggy had begun to notice his behavior, his increasing annoyance becoming apparent in the way his fingers had been steadily tapping faster against the table in less of an absent fidget and more of an agitated rhythm.

Once more Matt tried to read the line again, retracing his fingers over it as he leaned further over the document, as if getting closer to it would somehow help him to concentrate. But then he found his mind once more diverting from its task, instead thinking of himself sitting with you over coffee in only a matter of hours. Because soon he'd actually be talking to you, hearing your voice again, possibly even the sound of your laughter that he so sorely missed. And if he was lucky, maybe you'd let him hold you in his arms again, even if it was just to say goodbye.

“Alright,” Foggy said in exasperation, slumping back in his chair. “What is it that's got you so distracted? Because I've been here for almost a half an hour now and you haven't even read the page that's been sitting in front of you for just as long. Is it some Daredevil thing that's on your mind? Because buddy, that can wait until later tonight. We have actual legal work to accomplish right now.”

Matt released a defeated sigh, sitting back in his chair and pushing the document away from himself as his attention shifted over to Foggy. He felt guilty for not being able to focus on work–a problem he'd truly struggled with for far longer than just this morning if he was being honest. Ever since he'd learned you were pregnant his mind was often elsewhere.

“It’s nothing to do with that. It's just–I'm meeting with her this morning. To talk over coffee,” Matt told him. 

Foggy suddenly sat up straight in his chair, the annoyance in his body language immediately disappearing. He said your name in question, the tone of it hopeful.

“Yeah,” Matt acknowledged with a nod. “She agreed to talk and that's all I can focus on. I'm sorry, Fog. I just–just can't think about anything else because I don't want to mess this up with her. I doubt she'll give me another chance to sit down with her.”

“I don't know man,” Foggy disagreed. “I think she wants things to work between you both. From what I hear, it sounds like she's just scared.”

Matt pulled a face, his head canting to the side. “Scared?” he repeated. “Scared of what?”

“Of things not working out between you both,” Foggy answered. “I think you both really want the same things. And from what I’ve heard, I think she’s scared you might hurt her again.”

Matt frowned as he shifted his attention away from Foggy, his right hand reaching up to messily run through his hair. He wasn't certain of the truth in everything Foggy had just said. Matt had a feeling that he wanted far more from you than you wanted from him. And that scared him . But he absolutely refused to ever be in a situation to let you down again. He’d learned from his mistake–he would never break a promise to you again.

“So what exactly are you both planning to talk about this morning?” Foggy questioned. “Just the baby? Or…is there talk about you two getting back together?”

Matt's hand ran another pass through his hair in nervous frustration. Of course that's one of the things he’d wanted to discuss with you, but he was certain that particular topic wasn't even on the agenda for this morning. It probably wasn’t even remotely on your mind. It didn’t matter if you’d asked him to hold you in your bed the other night after the scare you’d had because he’d known exactly what that had meant. He was just happy that at the very least, you found his presence comforting still.

“I think we're just talking about me being more involved with the baby,” he answered. “That’s all the talk is about. And don't get me wrong, I'm happy we're even discussing that after the mess I made of things over the past few months. Because I do want to be more involved in things with her and our daughter even if she hasn’t been born yet. But I…”

Matt trailed off, the frown deepening on his lips as his focus dropped down towards the table. He heard Foggy lean forward, resting his elbows along the surface of it as his pulse accelerated in anticipation.

“But what?” he pushed.

Licking his lips nervously, Matt's eyes slowly closed. “I want more,” he admitted aloud. “And I know after how I messed things up that I don't deserve it with her. She's far too good for me, Fog. I get it. But I still want it.”

“Want what, exactly?” he asked. “The relationship?”

“Yes,” Matt answered immediately. “And I still want her to move in with me like we had been planning before everything fell apart and she found out she was pregnant,” Matt confessed, finally bearing his heart to Foggy. “I want her here . I want to set up the crib in our room that’ll be our daughter’s bed. I want them all in that room,” Matt said, gesturing behind Foggy to his bedroom, “where I can sleep next to both of them every single night. Knowing they're both safe with me. And I want to make space in the closet and the dresser for both of their things. I want to accidentally pull out baby pajamas instead of a tie in the mornings.” A sad smile tugged at Matt’s lips as he imagined everything in his mind while he spoke. “I want her to keep that growing stockpile of diaper boxes in her apartment right over there,” he continued, gesturing a hand towards the closet past his couch where he kept his Daredevil suit. “And I want to wake up and make coffee to the sound of a baby babbling.”

Tears were beginning to sting at Matt’s eyes as a flood of emotion began to well inside of him. He'd never realized quite how much he had been wanting until he’d suddenly given voice to it.

“I just want her to be here so that I can make her breakfast in the morning and dinner in the evening,” he continued softly. “I want her here so I can rub her back when she's throwing up or her feet when they're sore after work. I just–”

He paused, wincing. He found himself wanting so much that he never realized he'd even wanted until you had come into his life. But how would he ever be able to have any of that? After how he'd ended things with you and walked out on you when you'd begged him to stay? How did he get you to still move in with him? Let him be a part of your life again? Trust him again?

“I just want it all,” he whispered, fighting back the burn of tears. “But that's not what this talk is about today, and I understand that.”

“You could still tell her,” Foggy suggested gently. “You could still let her know how you feel, Matt. Be open with her about your feelings.”

Matt shook his head, his heart feeling leaden in his chest. “No,” he told him. “I think that's the last thing she wants to hear right now. I can't push my luck, Fog. Maybe someday I can tell her all of that, but I don't think today is that day.”

“I don't know, man,” Foggy countered.

“I can't ask for too much when I don't deserve it,” Matt said. “She needs to know I'm serious first, so that's my focus. I'll take whatever she gives me and show her that I mean it when I say I want to be a part of things. That I’ll really be there when she needs me.”

“For the record, I don’t exactly agree with that route,” Foggy told him. “But if you think telling her how you feel will somehow push her away instead of bring her closer, then I’m not about to argue because you’re obviously not going to listen. I’m just happy to hear that you’re both sitting down together to talk finally. We’re all rooting for the both of you to figure this all out, Matt.”

Matt’s attention focused on Foggy across the table from him. He heard the truth in his words with how steady his heartbeat had been. It felt good to know at least his friends believed in him. But he knew it would feel amazing to finally have you believe in him again, too.

You didn’t have to search hard to find Matt. He’d sent you a text when you’d left your apartment and made your way to the coffee shop letting you know that he’d already arrived early and grabbed a table. And now there he was, sitting in a corner booth with a coffee in front of himself and another across the table from him. A wave of nerves hit you at the sight of him in his dark jeans and snug-fitting gray shirt, your stomach twisting anxiously as the reality of sitting down with him actually hit you. It had been so long since you’d both really sat down together to talk; the only other time had been earlier this week on the night he’d shown up at your apartment because he’d heard your panic. But that had been under entirely different circumstances than this. 

Matt’s head instantly spun in your direction as the door to the shop shut behind you. You figured he’d probably picked up on your strong reaction to seeing him, and that only increased the nerves running loose in your stomach. Beginning to make your way over towards the corner booth where he sat, his covered gaze focused on you, you chewed your bottom lip while awkwardly maneuvering your small bump between the tables and chairs. Briefly you were reminded of your third date at this very coffee shop with Matt. The memory of it had you longing to be able to slide into the booth beside him and wrap your arms around him now, desperate for some of his strength to transfer to you. 

“Hey, Matt,” you greeted lightly, slowly sliding into the bench across from him. “I hope you weren’t waiting too long on me.”

A timid smile spread over his lips as he shook his head. “Not at all. Though I already ordered you a coffee.” His hand gestured to the cup now in front of you. “Vanilla latte, iced. I hope that’s okay. If not, I can grab you something else.”

“No,” you said, a nervous smile forming on your own lips as you shook your head, getting comfortable in the booth. “It’s perfect, actually. Thank you. I’ve been on an iced vanilla latte kick for weeks now.”

The smile on Matt’s mouth turned sheepish as you reached out and picked up the ice cold cup. You drank down a sip of the coffee, reveling in how good it tasted as you watched Matt’s hand awkwardly scratch at the back of his neck.

“So I’ve heard,” he said. “Karen mentioned that the other day actually. I figured it would be a safe bet.”

“Oh,” you said. “That makes sense then.”

Lowering the cup back to the table, you shifted anxiously in your seat. Normally things had never been this tense between you and Matt, but you weren’t certain how to navigate whatever the pair of you were now. You weren’t entirely sure how to just be around him anymore, especially not while currently carrying his child.

“So how’re things at the office?” you asked him.

“Good,” Matt answered. “Busy. There’s a handful of cases that we’re working on and I think we’re all realizing we may have overextended ourselves, but we’ll figure it out.”

You nodded, your finger toying with the condensation on the outside of your plastic cup. “That’s good. How’s uh–” you paused, not certain you were allowed to be asking him something so personal, but the question had already started to come out before you could stop it, “–how’re things going at night? With, well, you know…?”

Matt sent you a small smile, his covered gaze focused on you from across the table. Your eyes dropped back down to your coffee cup, your heart beating a little harder. You forgot the effect he had on you, but with him sitting right there after months apart, you couldn’t entirely ignore it now. 

You missed him.

“Also good,” he answered. “Not quite so busy, but still…busy.”

“Right,” you muttered awkwardly.

How the hell were you supposed to talk about the baby growing inside of you when you could barely look at him to discuss normal pleasantries? It felt so wrong being so awkward with him as you sat across the table. You found yourself struggling with this meeting more than you’d anticipated, wishing things just felt like they used to be between you both.

“How’re you doing?” Matt asked softly.

The gentle tone had caught you off guard, your gaze flitting back up towards his face. He looked just as nervous as you felt. And Matthew Murdock didn’t generally get nervous.

“Do you want the polite response I usually give people?” you half-joked. “Or do you want the honest answer to that question?”

“The honest one,” he replied.

“Well,” you began, your gaze dropping back down to your coffee cup, “I’m tired all the time. I’ve probably finally reached your level of tired.” 

You paused, smiling down at your cup when you heard him laugh lightly across the table from you. The sound had a warm, pleasant sensation gradually settling in your stomach.

“I almost always have a headache I can never seem to get rid of,” you continued. “I’m guessing that’s something to do with the hormones and increased blood flow. And I feel like my lower back has a personal vendetta against me as of late.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, amusement in his tone. “How’s the nausea?”

You shrugged a shoulder, your eyes once more returning to his face. Internally you cursed him for being so handsome. It only made you long to grab him and kiss him like you used to be able to. Clearing your throat, you tried to ignore that thought.

“Better,” you answered. “Not magically gone like I somehow assumed it would be once I got out of the first trimester, but I don’t want to vomit all the time. Though uh–” 

You paused as a grin spread over your mouth, noticing how it was quickly mirrored on Matt’s face as his head tilted curiously to the side. That flutter of warmth in your stomach felt like it was steadily heating you from the inside at the sight of it.

“What?” he pressed curiously.

“So when you’re pregnant,” you began, the grin remaining on your lips, “your sense of smell heightens. Also because of the hormones, I assume. But I’d wanted to tell you about that little symptom the moment I started experiencing it because I figured if anyone else would understand how gross passing a dumpster smells, it’d be you.”

“You’re certainly not wrong,” he agreed with a chuckle.

“And that symptom hasn’t exactly disappeared yet,” you told him, your grin having grown into a smile. “So some things still make me want to puke. Particularly the smell of bell peppers for some unknown reason.”

“Duly noted. I’ll make sure not to bring any near you,” Matt teased. “But I’ve read that ginger helps–”

You raised a hand, cutting him off and shaking your head as you pulled a face. Matt’s brows furrowed beneath his dark lenses, his mouth suddenly closing.

“Sorry,” you said, your stomach churning. “It’s just that I tried using those hard candies they make for morning sickness so much that the ‘g’ word now makes me immediately want to puke. They’ve had the reverse effect on me.”

“Oh,” he breathed out, the smile falling from his lips. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

“That’s alright,” you assured him, picking up the cup of coffee from in front of you again. “I didn’t expect you to.”

That uncomfortable, awkward silence fell over the pair of you again. You took a sip from your cup, watching as Matt’s left hand on the table began anxiously tapping along it. Swallowing down your drink, you supposed you should probably discuss the real reason you were both here.

“So uh,” you began, clearing your throat as you set the coffee cup back onto the table, “we should probably talk about the baby.”

Matt nodded, a tense smile now drawing itself across his lips. As if he was nervous about this topic of conversation.

“You were saying the other night that you wanted to be more involved?” you asked. 

“Yes,” he answered earnestly. “If that’s alright with you, of course. I know she’s not exactly here yet, but I’d like to be as a part of things as I can be.”

Eyes dropping back down to your coffee cup, your index finger smeared a drop of condensation along the side of it. There was a heaviness in the air between you both, one you didn’t need Matt’s senses to detect.

“How involved?” you asked softly. “You want updates if something is going on or…do you want to actually attend appointments with me?”

Matt perked up in the booth across from you, the movement drawing your attention back over to him. He was sitting a little straighter now, something hopeful written across the features of his face even with his glasses on. 

“Would that be alright?” he asked. “If I wanted to go to some of your appointments with you?”

“I suppose so,” you answered slowly. “But I don’t know how interesting they’d be for you. Unlike the rest of us, you don’t need technology to hear her heartbeat. I’m assuming you’ve already been listening to her since I got here.”

Another sheepish smile slipped onto his lips. “You wouldn’t be wrong,” he admitted. “I’ve grown quite fond of the sound of her heartbeat. Especially hearing it beating so close to your own.”

A flush crept up your neck, your gaze dropping back down to your coffee as one hand nervously began spinning your cup on the table. You hadn’t expected him to tell you that, or for how it made you feel. 

“I have an appointment in a couple of weeks,” you told him, trying to ignore the heat in your cheeks. “I can let you know the details when it gets closer if you’d like to come with me.”

“I’d like that,” he replied. “A lot, actually.”

Nervously gnawing on your bottom lip, your gaze still averted from him, you weren’t sure how to broach the next thing you’d considered bringing up. Matt had wanted to be more involved, but how much more did he truly mean? 

“So you also said that you wanted to be around when I didn’t necessarily need you,” you began carefully, your eyes slowly drawing back up to his face. “What’d you mean by that exactly?”

You saw the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his finger tapping faster atop the table. His other hand reached up to readjust his glasses along the bridge of his nose before he spoke.

“I know we’re not together,” he answered slowly, “but I’d like to spend time together. With both of you. If that’s okay? Not–not all the time. Like I said, I know we’re not together and I’m not going to delude myself into thinking things are other than what they are right now. But I’d like to help you out if I could. Cooking or cleaning occasionally so you can just rest. Grabbing groceries if you need. Anything like that.”

“You…really want that?” you asked, eyes narrowing curiously. “Especially with how busy you are?”

“I want to help,” he assured you.

You nodded slowly, aware that having him around you more often would only make you miss him more. But if things were ever going to progress back to how they once were between you two, you figured this was a good first step to reaching that.

“Okay,” you whispered.

His dark brows jumped up onto his forehead in surprise. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you answered. “If we’re going to figure this parenting thing out together, I suppose we should start figuring it out before she’s born. Right? It only makes sense.”

A broad smile broke out across Matt’s face immediately. The sight of it nearly blinded you with how happy he’d suddenly looked. 

“You mean that?” he asked. “About doing this together–raising her together? Do you really mean that?”

“With how much you clearly seem to want to be a part of this,” you told him, “it seems cruel not to try to see if things can work out. So yeah. I think we should focus on taking small steps towards that and see if things can actually work out eventually so we aren’t just…co-parenting.”

There was a faint tremble to his lips that you’d just barely caught despite that beaming smile on his face. The sight instantly reminded you of the other night when he’d asked for permission to feel your baby bump. He’d gotten so emotional the moment he’d felt your daughter move and experiencing that with him had felt special in a way that you couldn’t exactly describe. You just knew that after that moment, you didn’t want to keep any more of those experiences from him. Not if he was truly going to give you and your daughter all of himself.

“Plus, I could use help thinking of a name,” you added with a small smile. “She’s not just mine, after all.”

Matt sniffled softly, his lips still faintly trembling. He almost seemed to be on the verge of crying, and you wondered if he wasn’t wearing the glasses right now, if you’d have seen his eyes rimmed in red and filled with tears.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his hand sliding across the table towards you. “For giving me this chance despite everything.”

Your eyes dropped down to his outstretched hand, studying it for a moment. You knew what that hand meant beyond the obvious gesture. Hesitantly your right hand released your coffee cup and slowly slid across the table towards Matt’s. Carefully you wrapped your fingers around his, your heart beating a little faster when his gripped yours in return.

“She deserves both of us,” you whispered. “As long as we can find a way to make this work.”

Tag List: @mattmurdocksstarlight @just-going-through-the-motions @paracosmic-murdock @yeonalie @auroraslibrary @1988-fiend @will-delete-this-later-probably @two-unbeatable-beaters @danzer8705 @ragamuffin285 @callmebrooklynbabes @spookyboogyuniverse @peachy-aisha @stevenknightmarc @nerdytreeflower @fucktthisworld @remuslupinwifee @kmc1989 @thychuvaluswife @mywellspringoflife @thornbushrose @yarrystyleeza @shiorimakibawrites @marvelcinematiquniverse @vallovesthedilfs @scoliobean @this-is-music @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @ashlynhasmanyhyperfixations @swissy23 @babygorewhore @that-girl-named-alex @warsaur @lareinaisabelle @pazii @senjoritanana @mischiefmanaged71511-blog @xxdrixx @jess-rye @hannahbohen @theclassicvinyldragon @karolamurdock @theoraekenslover @mr-underhills-things @jennifer0305 @capswife @amazexng @blackhawkfanatic @ladywholikesreading @powellssaturn @sunflower-tia @indestructeible  @allllium @gamingfeline @kezibear @vallovesthedilfs @the-skys-musical-echo @justanerd1 @better305 @n3versatisfied @scriptedmoon @loves0phelia @roxytheimmortal

[arriansarchive]

Bottom!Dom!Carl Gallagher/Male!Top!Sub!Milkovich!Reader

This one's been in my mind for a while but I haven't acted upon my urges

Warnings since I forget to do them a lot: edging, pinching??? painplay????, other smut stuff, getting caught

Like season 10/11??? It doesn't really specify or anything but he's an adult

I've also decided to switch my name tag from y/n to m/n so yeah (i might forget in later stories so idk)

I used the word cock again be proud. im evolving

Summary: Porn

A simple day for junk food and TV programs. Well, that's what it was supposed to be before Carl got any bright ideas as usual.

Mickey had chaperoned you over to the Gallagher house after a job interview to help him with a few things, but you ended up just sitting with your boyfriend for a while. It wasn't the most productive thing you could be doing though nobody cared but Mickey.

By this time you both had gotten a few drinks down, and you were successfully quite tipsy. Not drunk to the point of delirium but not all there either.

You were barely paying attention to the TV until a rather heated, weirdly even, sex scene popped up. Carl laughed a little before leaning back in his seat.

A few minutes went past and in the corner of your eye you saw Carl stiffen, his mouth in a straight line. He seemed uncomfortable.

"You good?" You lolled your head over from the back of the couch to stare deeply at him.

He looked over at you, seemingly contemplating something before he lunged at you with full force. Carl pushed you back onto the couch vigorously with a elated look, straddling you.

"Don't tell me that shitty sex scene actually got to you." You rolled your eyes, but your breath automatically hitched whenever he grinded against you.

You tried to maneuver your way out from under him, but Carl held you down with such force that you didn't know where it even came from.

"I'm not going under today." He declares while shrugging off his jacket.

"Then what do you suggest we do?" You crossed your arms behind your head and yawned.

"You'll see." He muttered once he finally tugged his shirt over his head.

Carl started to unbutton the fancy shirt you had spent pretty much all your money on for your interview, but he decided to leave it on even after it was fully unbuttoned. Fucking in style or something like that.

He pressed his mouth up to yours needily. His hands were roaming your body and pinching you at random spots, making you flinch and groan into your boyfriend's mouth

You gasped lightly into Carl's mouth as his hands traveled down your dress pants, palming you roughly through your boxers. He had an evil smirk on his face.

"If you're this hard from me just doing that then you'd better prepare yourself." He whispered in your ear seductively.

You whimpered at the cold air whenever his hand left you, and your pants and boxers were pulled down.

Carl drug his hand up and down excruciatingly slowly for about a minute before teasing the tip with his thumb. The pad was circling the slit which was leaking steadily.

You were barely able to contain your noises of displeasure whenever he pulled away completely to take his own pants off but couldn't help to wonder what he was going to do next.

Suddenly he bent down from the couch and pulled out a few lube packets from one pocket of his pants.

"Were you planning this?" You managed to get out with a shakey voice.

He grinned. "Of course I was."

Carl was notorious for pain play with you. He loved doing it probably more than he loved normal sex without it, so no stretching wasn't a problem with him as he was usually the bottom.

He spread the lube over you, massaging around the base and tip mostly since he knew you were the most sensitive there.

You both groaned loudly in unison whenever he started to lower himself onto you. You were basically in agony from how slow he was going, and you could tell he was too.

You squeezed your eyes shut at the ecstasy that enveloped you at even the slight movement of his hips up and down on you. He had a maniacal look in his eyes.

He raised his legs up to where your tip was about to slip out and then slammed back down into you. Carl started a steady pace of this, not too fast but not too slow.

Both of your whimpers and groans were filling the silent, empty living room. Now that most of the Gallaghers were adults they weren't in the house a lot

Carl felt his wits end coming closer with each passing thrust, but yours was going even quicker. He had always noticed you were louder whenever you were about to finish.

Your hips spasmed as you came into Carl. He continued to bounce, chasing his orgasm while overstimulation engulfing your senses

Thick white ropes shot out of Carl rapidly with a loud scream of pleasure. You felt yourself start to harden once more and almost groaned in exhaustion.

He collapsed onto your chest, not bothering to take your cock out of him for the time being. It was silent until you both heard footsteps approach from the back door.

"Carl, what the hell are you doing?" A female voice yelped from the back of the couch.

"Tuning you out. What the hell does it look like?" He opened one eye passively and shrugged.

"Well, it looks like your fucking Mickey Milkovich's brother."

"That part is true too."

Your face flushed in embarrassment as Debbie and Carl argued back and forth about Franny's wellbeing and other concerns about fucking on the Gallagher house's couch. The words vomit and piss were used too much for your liking.

Ian's cackle became apparent from the kitchen along with Mickey's heavy footfalls.

"You fuckin' my brother, Gallagher?" He called.

You both decided to take your second round down to the basement. It's safe to say you got teased about it for a while after that.

[rat-rambles]

Ok Alastor shippers of all sorts, I'm going to put in my two cents and before I get into I'm a pro shipper all around just don't be mean to each other and tags are there for a reason.

My credentials: I'm an gray ace, aro person who's been around Fandom a very long time. Personally I've been initiated with the “but al is ace aro so you can't ship him” discourse and first off that's not true both because we can date -I Have a long term Partner- and because I've explored a lot of my queer identity through Fandom and fanfics and I think others should get the chance to do the same. I'm sure a lot of people will learn they’re ace aro because of alastor. That being said ik a lot of you writers out there aren't ace aro and are new to the topic so I'm going to go over some of my personal suggestions of how you could make Canon compliant works. (And if you do any or find any please send to me I'd love to see it)

Oblivious Alastor

Canonically this man doesn't know he's an ace in the hole. And I don't believe an egomaniac like him would assume that there's anything “different” about himself. ik when I was a baby ace I thought everyone was just being dramatic basically before realizing I was the exception. I can see this going 2 ways.

Radiostatic (pre show): vox is obviously completely smitten with al and al sees dating a more powerful overlord as an advantage(which vox in the past was the more powerful of the two). And Al starts getting slowly more and more uncomfortable and vox gets pushy in a very manipulative way.

Radioapple: enemies to friends to lovers? After Al and Luci become close friends, Luci starts to catch feelings for Al and Al agrees to date him seeing as he is fond of him and he's a very powerful ally so why wouldn't Al date him? As the relationship progresses they’re both confused by Alastor's behavior. Luci tries to be respectful. You know maybe he's just very against pda. And al doesnt understand why he's not feeling the things he's meant to.

I can see Al reverse heteronormativity- ing his way into assuming he's gay because he's NOT straight.

Malicious intent

Same as the last one except Al knows he doesn't have feelings for them like that and is trying to be toxic and uses them. IE what if Al was a gold digger actually.

Maybe I am in love?

Al actually thinks that he MUST be feeling a romantic connection because this is the closest he's ever been to someone and once again, gets steadily more confused as he realizes what he and his partner are experiencing is different.

All of these can end in nice queer platonic bliss and I think any story where Al and his partner discover he's ace after establishing the relationship is inherently interesting.

Last note some ace vocabulary

Ace and aro are a spectrum. Typically with ace people they will self identify as either sex positive, sex negative, or sex neutral. With Al it's generally head cannoned that he's sex negative but that's not explicitly Cannon and sex positive and neutral aces are valid.

Sex negative: is self explanatory it's what everyone thinks aces are; I don't want sex ever the idea grosses me out ect.

Sex neutral: is when someone doesn't have the desire for sex but isn't repulsed by it either. If they are in a relationship and their partner wants to have sex they’re open to it but don't expect initiation on their part.

Sex positive: people have a hard time understanding this because it's the seperating of the need for sex from the want. Typically if a sex positive ace were to never have sex again they'd die happy but if they have a willing partner they are happy to participate. It builds intimacy. It feels good, it's nice but it's not the same as being allo and having that cardinal lust.

note: please know what type your head cannoning Al as in your works when writing it, although people of course can change which they feel they align with, it's important to know how he's feeling about it.

I'm not as familiar with aro terminology but like with ace it's more about the drive the need the anguish. Al wouldn’t in cannon crave romantic connection.

Like with ace it's not actually cannon what type of aro he is some aro people are completely repulsed by the idea of romantic relationships or they only like it in theory (which playing around with the idea of Al liking a relationship in theory but not in practice could be a lot of fun.)

The gray romantic umbrella are aro people who can have romantic attraction to some degree. They’re still aro you can head cannon Al as it but please do a little research into which one you think your version of Al would identify with there quite a few so I'll spare the list here.

Demi romantic is when someone can develop romantic attraction for very specific people, very rarely. These people won't be on Bumble but might fall for someone after knowing them for a few years (or an indeterminate amount of time, my timeline was a year and a half I shit you not) a lot of you are looking for that.

As for kink. Lots of queer people especially are into kink because it's intimate, it's physical, it requires trust but it's not actually inherently sexual a lot of the time. And we do know that Al likes torturing and being dominant so yeah he'd be kinky that's completely canon compliant.

At the end of the day Al is ace aro in the show and that's what counts. Have fun be creative, explore the depths of your queer little minds and please be nice to each other.

(and if any of you make works related to this please please please send them to me thanks)

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝓣𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝓒𝓪𝓻𝓮. [Leave Me Be]

He's been saving lifes for years now, has trained and studied solely for this purpose, so why does it feel like he can't save yours, no matter how hard he tries?

Tags/Warnings: Hospital/Medical AU, Doctor!Jungkook, slightly aged up!Jungkook, Hybrid!Reader, Dog Hybrid!Reader, another slightly heavy one but the comfort is strong with this hurt, angst, fluff, romance, strangers to lovers, blood, medical stuff, mentions of domestic (physical and mental) abuse, corruption, mentions of drug abuse, vomiting, health scare

Length: 3.3k words

-> Masterlist

There is no taglist for this fic

A/N: Hi did you forget about this already because I didn't

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

For the first time in years, everything's.. calm.

Outside the somewhat opened window, birds are chirping. You can hear cars, people, a construction site close by. It's faint, pleasant background noise if anything, and you enjoy it a lot as you sit in your bed, bathing in the relaxing atmosphere, when the door opens.

"Good morning." A kind voice calls out to you, bringing something into the room. "I'm bringing breakfast." Nurse Park explains, moving the table over your lap before he sets down the plastic trays with your food. "Everything still alright with you?" He wonders, and you nod, quietly.

It's something he and Yoongi had already noticed a little while after Jungkook left last night, when he'd checked up on you. You've been declining slowly but steadily, somewhat drifting out of reality it seems like as you've started to fail to recall where and why you're in hospital this morning when a different nurse had woken you up this morning. You're awake and alert, yes. Your reflexes and motor functions are still fine, although a bit delayed- but other than that, you're not doing as well as expected. "I'll stay here to make sure you eat well, is that okay?" Nurse park asks, and you nod, tail wagging a little, when Doctor Min softly knocks on the door, opening it quietly to walk in.

He looks like he just arrived, hair freshly washed and face looking somewhat more rested than last late evening when you saw him.

"Look, here." The male nurse offers you cutlery- but you don't seem too interested in taking it from him, rather watching something going on outside. "Not hungry?" He asks, but you don't seem to really feel like answering, ears moving towards Jimin, but otherwise, there's no reaction, apart from your growling stomach.

"I've been told you're being a bit quiet today?" Yoongi wonders gently, standing close but not too close- observing your behavior. You seem distracted, eyes not really focusing on anything specific, though your ears turn and move around to catch any and all noise- now turned towards him, but you just yawn, before your attention is taken by Jimin's hands placing down the cutlery again. "She's worse than yesterday." Yoongi hums to Jimin, who nods, picking up some rice with a spoon to hold out to you- this you happily take, seemingly gladly being fed instead of feeding yourself. "Did we get her urine tests back yet? Jungkook had asked for them, I remember." He wonders, and at that name, your ears move towards Yoongi, making him chuckle.

"We did one this morning- we had some emergencies last night and didn't get to do it right away." Jimin says, continuing to feed you. "And her caretaker was here too. Took us security to pull her out."

"What a nuisance." Yoongi shakes his head. "Will she be back?" He asks, and Jimin shakes his head.

"We managed to have her visitors' rights revoked for now." He says.

"Good. I want that urine test asap, Jungkook's gonna rip our heads off if he get's her later today and we don't have any answers for why she's in a worse state than he left her in." He sighs, before leaving you alone with the nurse, who's continuing to feed you your breakfast.

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On the way to work, Jungkook feels uneasy.

He hasn't slept well, didn't really get good rest, but he's tried hard to let his body recover from the harsh shift yesterday so he can at least be somewhat refreshed today. He'll need all his energy, and he knows it.

Walking into the hospital, people greet him just like always. When he walks into the staff rooms to change and prepare for his shift, everything seems normal too. It's when he walks closer to your room that he notices something off- especially the fact that both Namjoon and Yoongi are standing in front of it, both men looking extremely serious.

"Jungkook." Namjoon greets, and Jungkook nods.

"You don't look too happy." He comments. "What's going on?" He asks, and Namjoon sighs, unsure how to explain it, when Yoongi simply spills the facts, known to be rather rough with info.

"You've got your first proof." He says. "Of something going on, I mean. Here." He says, giving Jungkook the clipboard with the urine test results up front- the hybrid specialist immediately gripping the board tighter.

"What the fuck?" He asks, reading through the results. "Ketamine? Diazepam? Acepromazine?" He reads up, and Namjoon nods.

"We assume it must've been given by her caretaker yesterday when they were alone and without a nurse present- or possibly this morning before she was kicked out. We have since contacted authorities to investigate their home for any traces of the drugs." He informs Jungkook, who runs a hand through his hair.

"How is she?" He asks, worried about you.

"Well, considering the cocktail of medication she's got in her system at the moment, she's pretty out of it. Couldn't keep her breakfast down, and fell asleep a few minutes ago in a hallway near the ICU after wandering off when no one was looking. Jimin is closely monitoring her now- I've set him up as her designated babysitter until she get's-" Yoongi informs, when suddenly, both his and Namjoon's pager beep loudly, their small monitors showing the room number their standing in front of.

Everyone immediately barges in to see Jimin holding onto you, a small paper bowl held in one of his hands while the other pets your back. One look closer, and everyone realizes what spooked the nurse to the point of pressing the emergency button near the bed.

There's blood in the bowl.

"Her BPM is erratic, and she's hyperventilating." Jungkook immediately observes out loud. "Obvious Tachycardia. What happened?" He asks Jimin, who shakes his head helplessly.

"She suddenly felt nauseous, and threw up again. She didn't eat anything for the past four hours." He informs Jungkook, who soaks up the info as he has to watch your body convulse again, attempting to bring up nothing but saliva and blood yet again.

"Why is her BPM so high?" Namjoon asks no one in particular. "She's been given tranquilizers.." He mumbles, when Jungkook suddenly seems to realize something.

"Because it's not the drugs themselves-" He says, earning looks, "-but the combination of them. Ketamine and Diazepam combined are used to treat epilepsy." He explains, showing off how he's not a renowned hybrid specialist for nothing. "But Ketamine and Acepromazine combined can increase heart rate, cause seizures, and induce vomiting in canine hybrids."

"But that doesn't explain the blood." Jimin worries.

"Maybe it does." Jungkook says, inspecting you slowly calming down- or maybe it's just exhaustion catching up to you. "If she's received these drugs before-"

"She might've developed chronic GI bleeding from the drugs or ulcers that haven't been treated, and those might've opened up again." Namjoon nods. "That would explain her anemia as well."

"I want a gastroscopy done asap, ping me right after you've got the results." Jungkook orders. "For now, let her sleep. Don't give her any food until we have the results back, and we know what we're dealing with exactly. I'll have someone set up some fluids intravenously, and have her diet plan adjusted." He says, before he begins to walk out.

"What are you gonna do?" Jimin calls after the doctor who's pulled out his phone, his other hand opening the door for himself.

"End someone's career." He growls to himself, before he leaves the room.

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"She's got a clear inflammation and a pretty nasty ulcer right here, just like we thought." Namjoon points out on the images taken, Jungkook standing close to him to observe. "Clear signs of drug abuse, or in her case, clear signs of both a poor diet and general neglect by her owner and or caretaker." He sighs.

"Like I thought." Jungkook says, defeated. "I got a response back from local police, by the way." He says.

"Really?" Namjoon asks, attention sparked. "Did they find something?" He wonders, and Jungkook nods.

"They have a hunch- apparently Dongsun had acted suspiciously when asked about her, but they need a warrant to search the entire premise because he refused them access." He mumbles. "In the meantime, Dongsun will probably clean up any traces of the drugs until police can properly search his home. And considering her situation, nothing she says will be taken seriously in court, even if she does know anything about this."

"So we're not even close to getting her out of this." Namjoon sighs, closing the window with the results. "What are we gonna do now?" He asks, and Jungkook shrugs.

"Treat her. That's all I can really do." He defeatedly says, leaving the unit of his friend before he walks down the halls, unsure what to do now.

There's no way he's gonna get you out of this, not without any proof of you being in an abusive situation. And especially considering who you legally belong to, it's clear that this guy's agency will do whatever they can to either silence the people attempting to expose him, or they'll make sure nothing can ever get out to the public in any way they can.

As he enters the room of another hybrid patient, he gains a bit of comfort back. It's silent in here, machines working steadily, hybrid on the bed sleeping soundly.

At this point, Yoongi had opened up enough to reveal to Jungkook that the cat hybrid sleeping here had been adopted by the neurologist himself a few years prior- but he had been worried people might treat her differently if they knew her connection to him. It made sense, somewhat.

She's still unresponsive, though has been slightly improving a little these past few days, seemingly giving some clues as to what's going on with her. And as Jungkook goes through his routine check up, he does notice something different- her tail, slightly moving, almost unnoticeably.

But it's there.

He touches the tip, testing as he pinches, the tip of the tail moving. It's delayed, not very strong, but it's a voluntary, active movement she's displaying. Something he writes down immediately, pinging Yoongi's pager to call him up to the room.

And it doesn't take long for the doctor to rush through the door, already changed into his normal clothes, almost having clocked out of his shift.

"Here, have you noticed this?" Jungkook wonders, repeating the action he'd done before- her tail pulling away a bit more clearly now, making Yoongi rush to steal Jungkook's pen with the little light on the other end of it, shining it into the hybrid's eyes.

"Her pupils are reactive." He says almost like a whisper, as if he can't believe it. "You see it too, right?" He rambles, and Jungkook checks as well.

"It's very mild, but yeah. There's a reaction." He nods. "We should order a new scan for tomorrow-"

"No, right now." Yoongi shakes his head, his own eyes showing his inner panic. "I want it done right now." He decides, pulling out his phone to call the appropriate people for the scan, making Jungkook smile a bit in sympathy.

He hates moments like these.

They've happened before- and the disappointment always seems to weigh heavily on his senior every single time afterwards. It's cruel, really. But he himself can't bring himself to remind the neurologist of the potential crash of emotions later on if it turns out to be nothing at all, because he's aware that deep down, Yoongi knows that himself.

So he just let's him do his tests, leaving him alone for the time being.

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"Ah, Jungkook." Jimin laughs, dramatically sighing. "Maybe you can get this stubborn thing to eat her lunch." He teases, your ears pinned back as you cross your arms in front of your chest, refusing to open your mouth.

"Someone's being a little brat here?" Jungkook says playfully, sitting down on a chair he pulls close to your bed. "What's up with that?" He asks, pointing to your light soup you've got in front of you. You stay silent- still very much battling the aftereffects of the drugs running through your body- before you point to your lips, and the clean and empty paper bowl close by just in case. "Worried you might bring it up again?" He asks, and you nod.

"Funny you say that." Jimin comments, and you visibly shrink in on yourself, seemingly knowing what's to come. "Considering I found this?" He teases, holding up a pen that's..

seriously chewed up, plastic bent and dented.

"Oh wow." Jungkook laughs, taking it from the nurse to inspect. "That's impressive!" He can't help but throw his head back to laugh at it, making you happy as well though, his happiness clearly infecting you.

Unbeknown to him, chewing on things is a nervous habit you've had since you were a pup- but normally, when at home, you're getting severely punished if something gets chewed on- so Jungkook's reaction is new, and pleasant.

"I think someone's having some anxiety, hm?" He wonders, reaching out to pet your head- something you immediately lean into. "That's fine." He hums towards you, before he turns his head towards the Nurse. "Might wanna inspect that though, in case she's got some toothache or something else." He informs Jimin, who nods. "Now eat, okay? Slowly, and it'll be fine." He tells you, before getting up- earning a very prominent whine from you, who's clearly against him leaving.

"Come on, doctor Jeon has to go home at some point, no?" Jimin tries, and you simply deflate, nodding, accepting- and Jungkook feels his heart break a little.

He wants to stay, wants to bond with you because you deserve that bond- but he can't.

He shouldn't.

There's no guarantee that you'll be removed from your current situation- there's no guarantee that even if you are removed, that you'll be able to be adopted. And even if you are- could he even take care of you? Can he provide for you? He's got a stressful job that requires a lot of time. And while he knows that Yoongi had made it work in the past, that doesn't mean he can make it work, too.

It's giving him a headache already.

Especially because he sits down next to your bed again, taking the bowl of soup closer to himself to help you eat, since your arms are still weak from the drugs attacking your muscles. He's not supposed to do that.

He shouldn't.

But the sight of your happily drooping ears and the way your tail wags every time he laughs makes him not care.

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When Jungkook finds your room empty the next day, he panics for a second- and it's clear that his bad feelings aren't weightless.

"Oh, Jungkook!" Namjoon offers as he walks past the room Jungkook walks out of. "Are you searching for her?" He asks, and Jungkook nods.

"Did they release her already?" He worries, well aware that Dongsun might have pulled some strings to have you released from hospital early.

"No. It's.. well, it's more complicated." He sighs, running a hand through his hair before he leads his friend down the hall. "She's currently no longer under Dongsun's care, but governmental. Seoul's Hybrid Care Project has taken on her case after the police found traces of the drugs and other.. well, pretty damning evidence of both neglect and straight-up abuse at his home."

"Thats good though?" Jungkook wonders, confused. "So she's with SHC now?" He asks, when he notices the path they're taking.

"She's been transferred to the ICU at around 3 this morning after she developed a fever." Namjoon offers rather defeatedly, while Jungkook seems worried. "She started seizing first about an hour after you left, which we were prepared for since you noted that in her files-" he explains, dodging a running intern. "-But she later complained over muscle aches and Jimin found her on the floor in the bathroom of her room and noted how dark her urine was." He informs his friend, who sighs, scratching the back of his hea deep in thought.

"Rhabdomyolosis." Jungkook says, and Namjoon nods. "Fuck. Do we have it-" he starts, but Namjoon nods.

"We have it under control- as much as we can." He offers to reassure. "Her temperature is slowly coming down, and her kidneys are doing surprisingly well considering the situation." He offers, opening the large door to the ICU. "We gave her meds to stop her seizures and block any adrenaline. She's not conscious at the moment though, since she was panicking badly."

"Understandably." Jungkook sighs, walking towards where you're laying.

He hates that he can't just magically snap his fingers and get you well again. He hates that you've done nothing to deserve any of this, that there's literally no reason for you to be treated like this.

"Have you considered taking her in once she recovers?" Namjoon quietly asks, as Jungkook stands close to you, not even noticing until after it's happened how he adjusts your head a little, running his fingers through your hair to sort it out a bit.

"I've got no time." The young doctor sighs defeatedly. "I wouldn't be able to care for her properly."

"Jungkook, you're working way too much anyways." His friend offers, checking on the machines currently monitoring your health. "Maybe this is a good chance to step back a little and give yourself some time as well? You're gonna burn out in a year like this, if not even less." He worries, and Jungkook just stubbornly rubs his eyes.

"Any update on Yoongis hybrid?" Jungkook changes the topic, needing to distract himself for now- and Namjoon accepts it.

"Scans came back honestly pretty confusing." He shrugs, crossing his arms. "There's clear brain activity, but it's not conclusive. Yoongi said he's gonna check in with some other experts today, so maybe he can figure it out." He explains. "But what's clear is that she's definitely got an increase in neurological function, which is good though." He says.

"Thats really good." Jungkook nods. "Maybe he's finally getting his happy end." He mumbles, when a hand is placed on his shoulder.

"You both are gonna get yours too." Namjoon offers, before he lets go of his friend. "Someone from SHC is gonna come by later today. Tell them you want to be written down as a potential future owner." He tells his friend, who looks at you on the bed, subconsciously moving your head towards his hand close to your face, his scent probably invading your senses causing an instinctual reaction.

And it makes Jungkook nod. Because if the world wasn't up to treating you well until now-

He's gonna take on the job, and make sure you'll get to live the life you deserve.

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[alice-after-dark]

Late Night with the Radio Demon - The Deal

Tagging @hiemaldesirae as promised :)

Vincent and Alastor hash out their deal.

Vincent is still sitting on the floor of his destroyed apartment, staring up at the strange looking deer man above him.

He is the Radio Demon and he wants to make a deal.

"It's quite simple, really! Quite simple!" he crooned, unsettling smile too wide. "You do some favors for me, and I'll use my power to guarantee your success!"

It did seem simple enough...too simple. Vincent had been in the television industry long enough to know that nothing was ever so easy. All around them, the shadows writhed and twisted as though alive. A thin tendril slithered over his hand and he quickly snatched it away, heart threatening to break free from his ribcage. Slowly, the TV host got to his feet, making sure to keep some distance between himself and the demon.

"I can give you everything your little heart desires!" the Radio Demon continued. "All I need from you is a little cooperation."

"Why?" Ah yes, let us question the all-powerful eldritch demon standing in our living room. That can only go well. "Why are you interested in helping me?"

Wait.

Was he seriously considering this?

It was insanity at its finest. Making a deal with a demon. A very real fucking demon. But what were his options, really? He was expected to double his ratings by the end of the month. Yes, his show was steadily climbing in popularity, but such a jump would be impossible. Impossible...without a little help. Fuck, he really was considering this.

"For the entertainment, of course!" the demon cackled. "Of course it would just be bad business to not require some form of payment for my services, but truly my interest lies in the entertainment of humanity and its pathetic, desperate attempts at improvement! Laughable, really, but so amusing to watch them try!" He extended a hand, bowing forward. "So do we have a deal?"

Vincent swallowed, physically restraining his own hand from grasping the demon's. "Not yet." He struggled to keep his voice even. Inky black tendrils hovered around him like curious snakes. "These...favors...they can't interfere with my success...and...I only owe you one a day."

The demon blinked and Vincent felt his throat tighten. Aaaaaand this is where I die, he thought.

The Radio Demon's ever-present smile seemed to stretch beyond the limits of his face, eyes alighting in hardly contained glee.

"Ǒ̷̱h̵͙͝ ̷͔͊y̴̰͐ë̸̜́s̷̹͛," he hissed through the tinny static that reverberated through his voice. "Ì̶̳ ̴̻̌t̷̠̄h̸̜̿î̸̩n̵̦̂k̵͉̔ ̵̼̈́y̷͈̑ô̸̩ű̸̞ ̸̣̀w̵̞̐ỉ̸͍l̶̗͋ľ̵̨ ̸͚͆p̷͙̃ṟ̷̍o̶̐ͅv̶̻̓ě̸̳ ̴̺̉t̷̮͠ǫ̴́ ̶͈̌b̵̓͜e̷͓͐ ̶͝ͅq̶̣̑u̷̞̾ḯ̴̩ẗ̴͇́e̵̓ͅ ̸̲͋e̵̜̿n̶̩̒t̷̲̿e̵̦̾r̸̟̐t̶̜͆a̴͓͒ĩ̷̡n̵̻͑i̴̩̎ṋ̸͌g̸̤͂ ̶̱̀ĩ̴̱ņ̷͘d̴̨̓e̶̳͠è̷̖d̴͙̃." He pulled his hand back. "Not unreasonable requests, my dear, not unreasonable at all. However, in light of your...additions, I'm inclined to offer my own caveats as well." He twirled his cane (microphone?) and rested both hands on top of it, meeting Vincent's eyes. "If you at any point refuse my daily requested favor, I get your soul."

A chill rushed through the TV host. "My soul?"

The Radio Demon only nodded. "Only if you outright refuse, of course. Questions and comments are permitted."

Okay. Okay, that was easy enough. Just don't refuse. The demon couldn't ask for anything that would get in the way of his success so that should have ruled out quite a lot of dangerous options.

"Okay, but...you can't ask me for anything impossible...or to knowingly harm myself in any way."

The demon looked delighted. "My, my. Covering your bases, I see."

"I've been in this business long enough to know what a good contract looks like."

The deer man hummed. "I must admit, you're being far more forward than most that I've dealt with. It's quite a pleasant change of pace."

Vincent tried to not to preen at the praise. No time for that right now. Keep your head screwed on.

A clawed hand extended towards him expectantly.

Vincent took it.

The reaction was instantaneous. The room lit up in blacks and bright greens. The tendrils thrashed and encircled them. The Radio Demon's maw stretched to impossible lengths and suddenly that creature was back again. The one that had dragged itself free from the void of the radio. The demon's hand was massive around Vincent's own pale one, the deer man towering over him with that same unsettling grin plastered to his features. For a moment, Vincent was utterly sure he'd made some mistake. The Radio Demon would kill him now and that would be the end of everything. Someone would eventually find his mutilated corpse...if there was anything left of it.

Then green chains burst forth from the shadows, wrapping around their hands and up their arms and binding them together. He could feel the burn of them through the fabric of his jacket and he couldn't stop himself from crying out at the pain. The room was spinning. He was going to be sick.

It burned.

It burned.

It burned.

Slowly, the magic ebbed away, leaving Vincent dizzy and disoriented, the hand around his own being the only thing keeping him upright. With a flourishing little spin, the Radio Demon sent him stumbling backwards to sit on the couch. Pain lanced up his arm when he landed and Vincent scrambled, wrenching off his jacket and yanking up his sleeve. There was no sign of damage, no burns or anything that could have caused such agonizing pain. All that remained of it now was a dull ache that permeated down to his bones. The deer man chuckled.

"Ah, the first time is always quite the thrill, hmm? You didn't faint, though! That's an accomplishment!"

Vincent didn't want to admit just how close he had come to doing just that.

"So..." He swallowed. "What happens now?"

The Radio Demon tucked his hands behind his back. "Well, my dear, now I get to work and I believe you owe me today's favor."

Fuck, they were already starting? That...well, that did make sense, but somehow Vincent thought he might have a little more time to process the whole thing.

The demon snickered. "Tell you what. I'll give you an easy one to start. Something to get your feet wet. A dear friend of mine is quite partial to these...I believe she called them Bittenbab Cakes?"

"Battenberg?" Vincent asked.

The demon brightened. "That's it! Anyhow, she does love them dearly, but they're rather hard to come across in Hell, if you can imagine. Get a few nice ones for her, would you? She'd be ever so delighted."

Instantly, Vincent felt a sharp tug in his chest and something akin to static rush over his skin. The deal...it had to be. The demon had made his official request.

"Uh...yeah, sure, no problem. Um...how do I-"

"I'll be by tomorrow around the same time to retrieve them. Leave such arrangements to me, darling." He traced a claw along the edge of his cane. "But I suggest getting some rest for the night." Fuck, when had it gotten so late? "You do seem a bit winded, my dear."

"I'm fine," Vincent insisted, trying to sit up and immediately regretting it when the world twisted before his eyes.

"I'm sure." An amused smile crossed the demon's face. At least, Vincent thought he was amused. It was kind of hard to tell when the deer man never stopped smiling. The demon closed what little distance there was between them and took Vincent's hand in his own, pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

"I'll be seeing you tomorrow then, darling."

And then he was gone.

It was like he had never been there. Even the room was spotless, the evidence of the TV host's tantrum swept away. The only evidence anything had happened was the small radio sitting innocently on the coffee table and the tingling in the back of his hand where thin lips veiling razor sharp teeth had pressed against his flesh. Vincent leaned back into the couch.

The Radio Demon.

What the fuck did I just get myself into?

[wikiangela]

seven-ish sentence sunday

tagged by @theotherluciferr @giddyupbuck 💖💖

haven't written a lot this past week, but I'm starting afternoon shifts today which means I'll have my nights back to write and hopefully a lot will get done haha

here's a bit of the car smut, where Buck's being a tease and they're both being silly and horny lol there are things here I wanna change and edit but I've been kinda stuck before I wrote this so this has to do for now haha

prev snippet | moodboard

___

“Patience, baby. We’ll be home soon. And we have the whole house to ourselves.” he reminds, since their kid is at summer camp, and he’s still gone for a few more days – Eddie misses him like crazy, but this aspect of it, not having to be quiet, making sure he’s asleep? Yeah, he likes that, actually.

“I don’t know if I can wait.” Eddie teases, sure that he can, but maybe he just doesn’t want to. He’s impatient tonight.

“I think you’ll have to.” Buck’s grinning, looking at the road, but his hand does start slowly moving back up Eddie’s thigh. He’s really enjoying driving Eddie crazy, and Eddie’s loving it too much, as well. 

“Buck.” Eddie groans, as Buck’s hand is now steadily moving up and down, shifting to the inner thigh, and Eddie takes his own hand away, making the movements easier for him.

“What? You started it.” the smirk is back on his face, and then he finally moves his hand higher, shifting his hand at an angle that can’t be comfortable, and cupping Eddie’s dick. A chuckle bubbles out of him. “Oh, wow, hard already, huh?” when he looks at Eddie again, his eyes are dark and hungry, and Eddie knows they mirror his own. “Just for me.” there’s a mischievous glint in his eye, making Eddie all the more impatient.

“I thought we were waiting to get home.” Eddie stammers out, Buck’s hand stroking him through his jeans, slowly and haphazardly, what with the weird angle and focusing on the road.

“We are.” Buck says smugly. Oh, truly such a tease. But two can play at that game. 

He places his left hand on Buck’s thigh now, and Buck’s smirk just grows.

___

no pressure tags: @jeeyuns @hippolotamus @loserdiaz @disasterbuckdiaz @ladydorian05 @diazass @elvensorceress @translasso @thebravebitch @silentxxsoul @eddiediaztho @thewolvesof1998 @shortsighted-owl @watchyourbuck @alyxmastershipper @transbuck @honestlydarkprincess @housewifebuck @forthewolves @wildlife4life @jesuisici33 @spotsandsocks @diazblunt @cowboy-buck @lover-of-mine @911onabc

[suvidrache]

Hey I had a funny idea for Kano

Could you do a story where reader finds him working out and they find him flexing in the mirror after and he’s bouncing his chest like terry crews and the reader finds it very funny

alright. so I've no idea who Terry Crews is but shout out to @thevoidwriting for helping me to understand/know! (so sorry for the tag btw, I had planned to post this separately but decided to go ahead and post the ask with it)

Bounce Bounce

age in bio when interacting. minors do not interact.

Word Count: 517 / Read it on AO3 | Offline Version

Kano laid back, pushing the bar up and down, lifting anywhere from at least 285 lbs. (129.274 kgs.), if not more. He set the bar down and sat up. His body was wet with sweat as he had been working out all morning. He grabbed his towel, which was nearby, and blotted his face dry. He tried to breathe slowly and steadily, breathing in and out through his mouth, before grabbing his water bottle and drinking some water. There weren't many people in the gym. Kano knew just about everyone that stepped foot into it.

Most people tried to avoid that gym in specific due to Kano and his behavior towards some of the people. He never got kicked. The gym owner was too scared to deal with Kano. When you had decided to hit the gym. Kano, at first, hadn't noticed your presence. He was too absorbed in his workout to have noticed.

When Kano had finished his workout, he stood in the mirror, flexing. Lifting his arm and curling it. Lowering his arm, and again, curling it. He enjoyed watching himself in the mirror. He had thought he was alone in the gym. He touched his chest, slightly lifted, before letting it drop and bounce. He flexed his chest muscle and let it go before doing the same to the other side. Switching back and forth between the two.

You had been busy exercising, not paying attention until you saw a man stand up and walk towards the mirror. You were curious as to what exactly he was going to do. You sat and watched him. He flexed and eventually he began to bounce his chest muscles. You couldn't help but laugh. He continued bouncing, and you laughed. He turned towards you and he raised an eyebrow.

"Something funny, love?" He had stopped and now had his full attention on you.

"No… well… yes." You said as you looked at him. Your hand covered your mouth as you tried to stop laughing.

"I just find it funny… you were bouncing your chest muscles and stuff…"

Kano put his hand on his chin and stroked his beard. He was thinking of whether to ridicule you for laughing or if he could use it to his advantage. He wasn't trying to be funny, and he didn't like being laughed at. However, if you were laughing. Surely, that would mean that you were interested in him? There weren't many that were interested in him and he preferred more feisty people. People who were less likely to go on a date with him, but he pursued them just for his own entertainment, and in hopes that he could change their minds. He gave a small smile and lowered his hand. His chest continued to bounce as it had before.

"You find it funny, love?"

"Yes." You said as you nodded and laughed again.

"How about you and I go on a date?" He asked, as his eyes never left you. He only slightly hoped that you would put up as much of a fight as everyone else did.

© SUVIDRACHE — do not copy, translate, modify, or plagiarize my work. reblogs are appreciated!

Tag List: @phantomheiko, @sunmoongoddess / To join my tag list apply here!

[gregorovitch-adler]

Birthday

John's eyes fluttered open automatically. He found himself wrapped in Sherlock's arms. John had been holding him too, and he was facing Sherlock in the morning, as he became more awake in their bed.

It was half past six and Sherlock's hair was all unruly; some of the strands were touching John's face. John brushed those strands aside and was beaming, as he watched Sherlock breathe in and out, slowly and steadily, as if they both had all the time in the world.

Frankly, John could stay like this with him for an eternity. He wouldn't change a thing about his current life.

Sherlock pulled John closer. Then he made a low sound at the base of his throat that vibrated against John's body, making him shiver.

"Still sleeping?" John asked.

"No," he replied with his eyes still closed.

"Happy birthday," John said and kissed him on his cheek. Sherlock smiled. "Get up."

"Still too early." Sherlock had finally opened his eyes.

John let out a short laugh. "I've got something to show you."

"It can wait."

"Hey! Why can't I share some excitement with the best and the only consulting detective in the world? Not fair." John couldn't hold back on his smile.

Sherlock's cheeks were a faint shade of pink now. "Flattery will get you nowhere," he said as he ducked his face in John's neck.

John was grinning as he ran his fingers through Sherlock's hair. "Won't it, now? What else am I supposed to do to convince the best and the wisest and the most charming man I've ever known, to take him out of this bedroom?"

Sherlock placed his hand on John's chest and gently pushed him backwards. "Alright. Let's go," he said as he got out of the bed hurriedly, and grabbed his T-shirt to wear, all while hiding his face from John.

John laughed and got out of the bed, too. He wore his jumper and went out of the bedroom, expecting Sherlock to follow him.

John walked towards the sitting room and stopped near the small table beside his armchair. He picked up a small rectangular box, that was gift-wrapped with an orange paper and turned around. He watched Sherlock coming to him; so he placed his arms behind his back to hide that box.

"What is it?" asked Sherlock with a yawn, rubbing his eye with his right hand.

"Close your eyes."

Sherlock rolled his eyes first before closing them. John grabbed one of his hands and placed that box on his palm.

Sherlock opened his eyes to take a look at his present. He glanced up at John with a questioning look. When John didn't say anything, he decided to open it and see for himself.

As Sherlock tore open the wrapper to have a look at its contents, John's gaze was fixed on his face, anticipating Sherlock's reaction with an uncontrollable smile.

Sherlock's lips were parted as he stared at the gift. "Daisy seeds!"

"I recently learned that you're fond of bees, and daisies are known to attract them, so I thought-"

Sherlock had cut him off by pressing a kiss on John's mouth. His other hand was grabbing at John's collar.

John smiled into the kiss and wrapped his arms around Sherlock's waist. They kept pouring themselves into that kiss.

Sherlock finally let go of him, breathlessly. John touched his forehead against Sherlock's. They were both smiling and John couldn't stop staring into Sherlock's mesmerizing eyes.

"So, it's safe to assume that you liked the gift."

Sherlock burst out laughing and so did John. "You're an idiot. But you're also amazing. You're an amazing idiot."

"Yeah, okay. I got it," John said and they laughed a bit more.

After some time, John pulled Sherlock close in an embrace. Sherlock's hands were wrapped tight around his waist.

John was right. He really wouldn't change a thing. This was the place he'd rather be in, for a lifetime. Sherlock's arms.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Prompts: Flattery and Surprise by @calaisreno

Thanks for the tag, @keirgreeneyes and @calaisreno !

Tagging: @helloliriels @topsyturvy-turtely @catlock-holmes @peanitbear , etc.

[wingsonghalo]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Tagged by @cnnmonbimee! Thank you for the tag!! Read her awesome answers here!

1. How many works do you have on Ao3? 66! More than I thought were on there tbh!

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count? Uhhh apparently it's 684,757! Less than I thought!

3. What fandoms do you write for? In order of most fics to least: Ace Attorney, JSHK, My Hero Academia, Mob Psycho 100, Homestuck, Hunter x Hunter, Phineas and Ferb, and Supernatural. I've also written a lot of Pokemon stuff, but somehow that has escaped Ao3 despite it being my longest fandom LOL. Working on a Pokemon SV one currently though 👀

4. What are your top five fics by kudos? Project: Matchmakers (shocker, I know), Sleep (Too) Tight (It's always been slowly but steadily popular), Force of Habit (bit of a surprise there honestly), Project: Matrimony (less surprising), and The Stuff of Dreams. So what I am seeing here is that no one leaves kudos on my JSHK or MP100 or MHA fics :') Some of these fics are one-shots, so it's kind of surprising! I wish PlayWright had gotten more attention; that fic killed me while I was writing it. I'm not giving number of kudos because I'm not comfortable with that and it makes me feel bad about myself haha,,,

5. Do you respond to comments? I try to! I've fallen behind on responding to them in the past 2 years or so because life has been so busy, though…

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Probably A Practice, For Now?? LMAO it's also my first JSHK and the one with the most kudos HMM COULD THIS FANDOM BE ADDICTED TO ANGST PERHAPS??! I don't write angst a lot!! What can I say, I'm a sucker for a happy ending.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Almost all of my fics end happily, LOL. Pick any of them that actually has an ending.

8. Do you get hate on fics? Not commonly. I've gotten anon hate before about them on tumblr on rare occasions, but usually my comments on ao3 stay pretty nice.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? I do sometimes, but I'm so shy about it that I rarely ever post it /)//w//(\ Usually I just share it among friends, haha!

10. Do you write crossovers? Nope, and I never will!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Yes. Someone tried to run Project: Matchmakers through a translator to hide the word matches and sell it as an ebook on Amazon, but they only bothered to hide it for chapter 1 so someone reported it to me and then in retaliation I started actually selling it on Amazon for the lowest price I could because the thief was trying to sell the shittier version for like 7 dollars LSFJ;AKLD. Read about the whole debacle here.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes, quite a few! People have been great about asking me for permission! 💖

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yes, here and there! Usually it's either fics where I have written one part and someone else has written another scene, or someone had me look over something they'd written and I added so much commentary or threw additional ideas at them so much that the story ended up changing and I somehow became a co-author, LOL.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? Oh my god don't make me answer that ;alskdjfl;k. If I wrote a fic for them ever, they're my favorite. I have so many favorites that I've never written fics for, too.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? THE UNDERCOVER FIIIIIC [sobs] and also Left on Read hnnngh

16. What are your writing strengths? Emotions!! I'm super good at those! I'm also really strong at dialogue and banter, and making my writing kinda witty/funny.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Describing settings ;w; I write my scenes like I draw my art: in Descriptionless Blank Voids lkas;dlkf. I also struggle with the flow of action scenes sometimes, though I think they usually turn out okay if I spend enough time on them. I also probably use too many adverbs and adjectives, but y'know what? Fuck it I like my descriptive words thank you very much

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? As long as you're checking that it means what you think it means, or possibly asking a native speaker if you're unsure about context or need a sensitivity reader, I think it's fine. It annoys me if I have to check a footnote every other line, but if you can mostly understand it without a translation in context, it can be kinda nice! At least it says you're trying more than phonetically spelling out an accent, which--remember, kids!--is always cringe! 👍

19. First fandom you wrote for? On Ao3, it was Homestuck. On the internet in general, it was Animal Crossing and Pokemon, LOL.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written? Don't make me cHOOSE BETWEEN MY BABIESSS 😭 I dunno man! Project: Matchmakers is my magnum opus, but the PlayWright is lowkey kind of a masterpiece, I love so many of my JSHK fics to bits and pieces, a lot of my MP100 and MHA fics are very special to me, I've been trying to write a HxH one for YEARS and have poured my heart into making it beautiful, just UGHHH every single one of my fics I have vivid memories of conceptualizing and working on and most of them are my favorite to some degree!

I tag @carochinha, @kittykatz009, @toastytoaster22, @ittybittytoostormy, and anyone else who would like to answer these questions!!

[mimiikah]

Tremble (2/?)

PT. 1

SUMMARY: After a brief seemingly playful scuffle with Neteyam, you find yourself drifting behind Kiri to the Tsahik's marui pod. You're scolded to no surprise and sent to carry out punishment, followed closely by a volunteering Kiri and Spider, in the form of preparing salt crystals.

WORD COUNT: ~3655

PAIRING: PLATONIC! NAVI! reader

THINGS TO NOTE:

Tag list added at the bottom! Some, I were unable to tag (if u were one of those people, I recommend looking at this post to see why I may have not been able to tag u :( )

Just to clarify, when I tag my works with (CHAR X READER) it's indicating what pairing (romantic or not) is featured prominently for that installment (so, the first part had some Neteyam and Ao'nung bits but this part... well, you'll see :D)

As last time, Reader is written to be gender neutral to the best of my ability! I think I do sometimes slip into fem! pronouns, but hopefully I've caught them all.

As per last time, more side notes are at the end (thumbs up emoji)

Art is not mine! It’s from the Art of ATWOW book.

WARNINGS: not overly described, but in the beginning a character does go through a panic attack due to past experiences. Let me know if anything in this piece needs to be pointed for warnings

Thank you to @k----a27s for slight inspo for the direction of this part! I hope it turned out alright!!!

Through heavy gasps and kicking limbs, the two of you had found yourselves in a cycle of dunking each other; with every sharp inhale water pooled by the cup of your tongue before the immediate saltiness of the liquid caused you to reflexively spit the water back out -- and at Neteyam's face. You would say that he did the same, mouth sputtering as his own arms clawed to be closer and further from your struggling frame, but with how the steadily heating water bubbled with every flailing motion you couldn't even tell.

However, just as quickly as the battle had started, it had ended too.

Toned arms caged your surging torso, tilting your body back to prop you against their own. Your chest was heaving, sparks flickering and knocking against your ribs with every gulp of air scraping through your throat.

Before a smug grin could run across your lips you paused, captured by the expression on Neteyam's face: while he was left in the same breathless state as you, you couldn't quite tell the meaning behind that small tinge that coated his eyes. Yellow-tinted glassy eyes peered at the sky, unfocused and almost deathly accepting. His posture was torn between being strung up and limp and you'd go as far as to compare him to looking like a sea creature torn from the sea.

He looked scared.

His brother held him, cradled him, and tapping his cheek with desperation he called out to Neteyam almost rhythmically. It began to feel like time was slowly crawling by, the waves crashing against you to count every second.

Neteyam gasped, hand slapping itself against his chest.

"I'm good. It's good." As much as he was reassuring his worrying brother, he sounded as if he wanted to ease his own worries.

"No, no it's not -- you--" Lo'ak hissed in your direction, ears pinning back in aggression. "Why did you do that to him?"

Defensiveness wrapped your frame, a scoff passing your lips, eyes narrowing. "I was just playing back -- it's no different from you wrestling that peach coloured body over there."

"That body has a name--"

In a display to reassure the party, Neteyam eased Lo'ak's hands off his frame, drifting between us. "I was the one who started playing around; Lo'ak don't blame them."

"But--"

"I just accidentally swallowed some water and the saltiness caused me to panic a bit." As much as his smile was soft, pacifying, the event had surely shaken him. After witnessing the initial panic, you felt hyper-aware of every minute shift in his muscles and seeing the small tremble in his fingertips told you all you needed. He was afraid of drowning; it wasn't in the sense that everyone was innately scared of drowning when swimming, but more in the sense that he had toed that line between safety and danger and had honed out his recollection of the experience to tell the tale.

Silence drafted over all of you, a calm rushing over with every wave lapping at your skin and pulling you to shallower water. When the feeling of sand pushed itself between your toes Ao'nung's arms released you, lingering as you oriented yourself.

"You're hurt." The appearance of Tuk's mutter snapped your attention to your arms -- claw marks glowed on the surface, the skin around every line starting from a gradient of red-tinted purple to the dull blue of your skin. Glancing back at the worried gaze of Tuk, you began shifting your arms behind you.

"It's alright. Just a couple scratches, nothing much." Neteyam made the move to apologise, his forehead creasing as he pushed forward. You stepped aside, dodging Ao'nung frame as he hovered in silence by you, causing Neteyam to pause his approach. "I'll just visit the Tsahik -- Ronal likes me anyways." A laugh stuttered awkwardly past your lips, an unsure smile plastering itself on half of the group.

"I'll come with you." Kiri announced and started walking, leaving you no room to argue.

Accepting this development you moved to follow her, gaze flickering back on the group. Neteyam's siblings, with Tsireya and Ao'nung kind of loitering together muttering to each other, took to checking up on him. No claw marks were marred onto his skin, you could see that with your quick glance he was unharmed. However as you watched Lo'ak's hand press against his chest, your eyes caught a scar centring the expanse of skin-- the scar mimicked the pricked sides of a fallen star, each point connected by a single origin and a lighter, yet duller shade from his skin colour.

You had no time to mull about the scar, approaching the Tsahik's healing marui pod towed behind Kiri.

"First your brother and now you -- I don't recall your parents having any of these reckless traits when we were younger." Ronal made a point to drag you closer to her as you approached, her posture straightening and pushing out her already prominent baby bump as she turned your arms this way and that.

From the corner of your eyes, you could see your brother's slackened form lounging from behind a line of braided twine and beads for privacy; his body trembled every once in a while, air puffing past his lips as he rested a dream-filled sleep.

A pin-like crawling sensation creeped from your stomach, your chest heavy the longer you looked at him. "Just so you know, this isn't from the hunt." The clarification did nothing to stop the light blow to your head. Sinking to your knees next to her as she knelt,  you continued staring at your brother. Watching. Waiting.

At a steady pace Ronal quietly ran a paste-dipped finger across the surface of your skin, scraping it with curved finger tips from a near-empty, fruit leaf lined bowl. From where Kiri stood, occupying herself through mixing more of the paste within a small stoneware bowl to keep it at a more viscous state, her eyes followed the swirling tattoos that climbed the same arm; as a part of the hunting party of your clan, your shoulders and arms were densely packed by winding waves that seemed to part at the border to your torso. You wore significant events on your sleeve, literally, from how past battle scars intermingled in a dance put on hold alongside stories of the ripping waves. Now that Kiri had gotten a good look at your face, your status of second born marred itself proudly at the tattooed pattern cupping your cheeks.

You had your history out for all the world to see, proudly displayed. Kiri felt her chest tingle, brows deepening in thought.

"Well," finishing the final smears onto your skin, Ronal blew lightly at the paste. "Now you will learn well from this experience." In all honesty, you didn't know if she was referring to the light scuffle that laid evident on your skin or the injuries your brother sustained. Perhaps she was referring to both. "As punishment--"

"Punishment?" Perking your head towards her almost incredulously, you momentarily fought a losing battle against her gaze before backing down.

"As punishment, you will go harvest the salt needed to preserve the flesh of your catch."

"But--" propping your hand under her arms, you help her stand. "I'm really bad at that kind of stuff."

Tight-lipped, she hummed nodding. "I know." She pushed you out, your body stiff as it met the warm ocean air. Shortly afterwards, Kiri stood beside you; her tail swept behind her forming almost a question mark with how the tip curved and the two of you silently stood side-by-side.

"Can… I help?" Her question was half murmured, eyes darting anywhere but your eyes and nerves on display as she brushed her fringe back before sweeping them forward to the same position.

"I mean," clearing your throat you usher her behind you. "If you want, I guess."

The clearing to make salt was further into the heart of the island, the walk made easier by a well-made pathway cleared and continuously used throughout the years. Walking at a leisurely stride through the marui pod pathway, you took your time to weave between the racing figures of adults and children alike greeting them quietly with every step. It was almost stifling, the silence between the two of you, there was no familiarity in the atmosphere, nothing blatant to tether your interests together. As far as you knew, you were a hunter through-and-through and she was clearly taken to the central island -- well maybe it wasn't as clear as you were claiming, but her atmosphere practically radiated anything but the hunter aura you and your party members exuded (and her clothing too; no evidence of animal claws or teeth anywhere but copious amounts of flora).

About to make your way through the foliage that bordered the small forest, a voice called out to Kiri causing the two of you to pause.

The soft-fleshed body bounded towards the two of you, skipping through the water like a fly trying to skim the surface. It stopped, peering at you through a quick glance before continuing to talk to Kiri. "Where are you going?"

Glancing at you, Kiri responded, "near the central islands to harvest salt."

It's face creased in a way, wrinkling in an almost contemplating manner from how its brows scrunched to the centre -- in a way, through the artificial blues smeared onto its skin and the transparent covering held over its face, you could see the very, very small similarities to your own kind.

"Can I…" he trailed off, tiny hands clasping by their front.

"The process will take all day." It was neither an okay nor a denial, a neutral ground. "If you choose to come, I will put you to work." Your treatment to them wasn't unfair; work was always split amongst parties and if you just had slackers following you, then why not put them to use to minimise the work load?

Continuing her stare down to your direction, Kiri's tail flicked.

You continued narrowing your eyes at the human, analysing it. "Are you any good at weaving?"

"I'm willing to learn." It's reply came immediately, eager to prove a point.

What felt like hours to them, was only seconds of you contemplating. Nodding, you carried on to break into the foliage. The silence was broken by the whisperings of the two trailing behind you, soft laughter and continuing conversations floating into your bubble.

Various colours bled into green from the corner of your vision, your pace mashing together palettes with your brisk speed. As forest dwellers familiar to using their stamina on land, they kept up with you comfortably, quickly.

The entrance to the clearing was indicated through the piled together tools and baskets resting against a curved tree, a worn down braided twine and frond mixed sieve laying at the top of a closed basket.

Turning to the two, you bend down to pick up the empty paysmung. "Go collect material to mend to sieve, then weave them to it leaving the smallest of gaps. I'll go get some water."

Splitting, the two of them disappeared amongst the large feathering leaves of the surrounding plants without question. With the paysmung hung over your shoulder, you stroll through the leaves to the pathway to the nearby inner island waterfalls.

Your lean over the edge, tongue slipping out to sample the water and recoil as salt slips down your throat -- perfect. You wade into the water, legs cutting through the rushing current and dip the curled paysmung into the river before hauling it back over your shoulder and trekking back to the clearing.

Unthreading the curled end, you patter through the squared land. With every step, the salt field darkens as you douse it with the collected salt water, your tail occasionally kicking up the ground with heavy swipes. The process is repeated until the water pools at certain points, reflecting the cloud tinged sky.

By now your two companions have returned, sat at the edge of the clearing and braiding and weaving newer strands to the sieve.

Dropping the paysmung by the pile of tools, you pick up two of the bunched and tied together brooms made from the midribs of palm leaves. With large steps you stand in front of the two, hand holding out one of the brooms to Kiri.

"You will scratch at the surface with me while they weave."

"I can do it," it calls from its seated position, the height difference between you two large.

"No, the broom is too heavy for you.  Your small hands will be inefficient with the labour." It quietens at that, brows furrowing together once again.

You walk up to the dampened salt field, looking back to ensure Kiri is watching before lightly skimming the surface with the frayed broom -- the action breaks the surface of the sand, tiny clumps loosening with every sweep. Kiri follows your motions from the opposite side of the square, looking from her own moving hands to your own every once in a while.

The silence around you is starting to bug you, crawl at the base of your spine and settle at your shoulders feeling like the weight of several tulkuns balanced onto them.

"This practice," this is the first instance of idle chatter you have decided to initiate with them and they note this through the way they perk up at your wavering voice. "The Metkayina do not practise it for themselves often."

A hum escapes Kiri, "though, they have a section of the island dedicated to it?"

"It is because of my own clan. On top of trade, we ask they preserve space for this practise as our own soil is unsuitable for it. Our soil is too damp at all times." You clear your throat, starting your second round of sweeping. "Do… you know why we practise this?"

The peach coloured body calls from its space, voice clear through its transparent mask. "No, why?"

While it is bad to exercise excess pride, you can't help but warm through explaining your own lifestyle to such different people -- educating them on the way you live.  The heat on your ears travels down your back, tickling your nerves like your parents had done so long ago when you were still a child.

"You notice how we hunt bigger sea creatures, right? We do not hunt often but when we do, we target the larger predators that tilt existing systems in the sea too extremely." The akula your party had just hunted had been one toeing too close to your clans territory for a while now, getting too ballsy with every inch and finally drawing a line with the devouring of an ilu and its baby. "We take a full cycle, seeing and living by the creatures deep under, and at the end of the cycle we decide the best predator to hunt in order to equalise what has been unbalanced--"

"How can you tell when nature is unbalanced?" Kiri's voice picked up in tone, a higher pitch in almost eagerness spilling through. Glancing at her you notice she's stopped sweeping, instead she stands gripping onto the broom's handle enough to make her knuckles pale. "What do you look for when you see nature?"

"We watch their movements, compare each days movement amongst each other. Then, we mimic, we feel." In an example, you prop you broom on the ground before motioning with your body. You picture weaving through the layered rocks and coral -- the blends of colours accented with bioluminescent tips. The peeking of other creatures as you drift amongst them, body sliding with the current never fighting the flight in water. And, as much as you enjoy the crowded sea ground -- life bounded at every surface -- you also imagine the expanse of nothingness; floating through the infinite pool of water, body not sinking nor floating up but just being a part of the cycle of water. "And we live by natures ways and feel for the feeling in our stomachs."

Your heart pounds, the memories fresh from the build-up of your latest hunt. 

Peering over at the two, you notice the glossy sheen over Kiri's eyes -- her body sways, just like waves, and she looks oddly content envisioning the sights you offer. The other looks towards you, it's gaze is hard, contemplative, jealous in a way.

"Of course," you bend to pick at your broom again, continuing the motion of sweeping. "Me describing the view is different from actually seeing it."

"Can you show me, show us, one day?" Kiri's voice comes quietly.

You take no longer than a second to agree, nodding. "Maybe not so soon, but eventually. Of course, if you can keep up that is."

"We will." Kiri's brother calls.

"Then I'll take your word for it."

Following the finishing of the sweeping up of the surface, you and Kiri begin to pile the scraped ground into a larger leaf lined basket, a small hole protruding from the side with a small mesh filter covering it. The little human watches you two before using one of the spare reinforced fruit shells the two of you were already using to help scoop the sand into it.

During the process, clear water has already started to filter out and pool into a wide stone fire pot you had placed by the opening. The basket is filled, topped with heavy stones separated by a large palm leaf. It filters quickly, the two of them in idle chatter flicking between Na'vi and the humans language while you stay silent in observing the water, and as the water starts to reach the lip of the pot you quickly push another smaller pot in its place and haul the water-filled one on top of a structure to hold it over an open flame.

"Start the flame and then we shall start to boil it."

"Boil?"

Humming in confirmation, you start to stir with a carved wooden tool as the two blow at the tiny flame below the pot. The mixture sloshes, quickly reaching a bubbling state, steam wafting from it.

By now the sky has started to darken, a draft picking up and tickling your skin. The sand beneath your toes have now cooled from its once heated state, now feeling damp; every adjustment you make to your stance feels heavy, ankles aching.

When the mixture's bubbles resemble that of the aggressive underwater volcanos, you grab the sieve and gesture for the two to come closer, both sharing a grip on an additional stone bowl between them.

Heat envelops your hand as you use the long handle to scoop to the bottom of the vicious mixture, the liquid nearly tickling at the side of your fist.

A gasp, from either the two of them or both in combination (you're not quite sure with your quiet concentration), reverberates into the atmosphere as you draw the sieve out. Tiny shards of salt crystals sit cradled into your tool, rapidly cooling as you expose it to the salty air; it creates tiny tinkling sounds hitting the stone, some fragile enough to split into miniscule shards. They gaze at the sea salt as if they reflect the stars in them -- as if you have fished and hauled crystals in your calloused hands.

The process repeats, the crystal sheen reflecting at their eyes.

By the time the liquid has been reduced to the point of nothingness, the stone bowl has been half filled with salt.

"We'll grind the salt here and then haul it back to the village so we can begin the drying process while it is still light." Work is divided the tree of you as you all take longer smoothed stones to start to crush the salt crystals, stars turning into dust with every grind. It doesn't take long to reach a consistency that when picked up between pinched fingers, slip through them like sand.

The three of you navigate the forest, the bowl held by you and Kiri (a bit of the small human's strength too) breaking the tree line to scamper where a few of your clan party members are lining a large tightly woven basket with fruit leaves and thin strips of akula.

Idle chatter becomes whispers as they catch a glimpse of the strange body behind you.

"A sky person -- and such a tiny one at that."

"How much weight are they carrying of the bowl? Are they really as weak as rumoured?"

While you were also quiet baffled at seeing such a strange sight upon first viewing Kiri's brother, you were at least quiet about it -- your clan members hold no curiosity back, eyes flickering between their tasks and observing the way the flesh human hung back at their tense gazes.

"Here," you drop to your knees next to the bowl, grabbing a cup-shaped shell and beginning to load the salt onto the patted dry strips. "Pack it tight, then in two days half of us will deliver it back home."

"Will you lead the trip back?"

"Of course -- well, that's if brother is still too weak." Kiri and her brother still loiter behind you, Kiri a looming a little taller as if trying to shelter the other from the still lingering glances of your hunting party. "Kiri," you halt momentarily, tongue slipping as you try and pronounce her brother's name. "Spider," admittingly your accent is a little thick but it gets the name across as they glance up at you, surprise lingering. "Thank you both for your help, I wish you a good evening."

Turning back to the task as hand you listen for their retreating footsteps, their own 'good evening' wishes slipping through you ears. Another pair of footsteps float behind you, a hand dipping into the salt to bring a pinch to their lips.

"Perfect." Ronal nods.

TAG LIST: @eywas-heir @k----a27s @galaxyfruits @thecrazyswamp @spicycloudsalad @neteyamforlife @epicy0n

Extras:

Yall, my workshops keep getting cancelled bc of strikes so like my schedule has been messing me up lol. I normally write in the rest periods between classes or when I'm doing work on my campus library, but like bc I'm not in a studying environment when I don't go in, I'm so distracted...

That being said, REALLY SORRY FOR THE SILENCE ON MY PART ISJFIJDFIFJ idk how to run a blog...

I have other ideas unrelated to Tremble that I want to get out there, and I might work on them before posting the next part but i'll see.

ALSO! In the time I was getting support for the first part (TY BTW!!) I took the liberty to really plan and kinda bullet down the developments I wanted to make obvious of the cast of atow. If u guys r interested to see how I interpret post atwow, neteyam lives au development in the charas, I would be happy to share that in a seperate post (thumbs up x2)

I'm tempted to post this series on AO3 on the fact that... idk Tumblr was never my thing until I got thrown into Avatar ngl.

Okay so some reader notes: hopefully I can expand on their dynamic within their own clan soon, but I do hc them to be pretty nosy -- like i can see them kinda having a habit of collecting info unintentionally but not really doing anything with it. Like they're just a neutral bank of info that collects just for the satisfaction of knowing.

The desc. I write of being underwater stems from my own experience in island hopping in the Philippines and taking swimming and diving lessons for a solid 4+ ish give or take years. If u cant tell, i like swimming.

Now, why is Spider repeatedly referred to as 'it'? I (semi) write in the perspective of what the reader views in the moment, and as someone so far removed from the war between humans and na'vi (the readers clan being so isolated from land for large periods of their life), they don't really know how to view Spider. They've heard tales of the sky people and the invasion, but at the end of the day their systems never really crossed prior to the Sully family touching down at the Metkayina village. So, I guess I write half omnicient, half limited 2nd person view.

In terms of inspiration for the harvesting salt techinques, I specifically looked to this for the actual process, this for further education on another method of how salt is harvested, and this to be more aware of how certain methods affect the lives of people who are working in the field and the precausions for it. All three videos are pretty interesting and (imo) i feel only scratching the surface on what I could learn about this life style...

For learning about the process of salting fish, I looked to this and this

If you guys want to see what I watch to get a general feel and education of the ocean, I mainly use Natural World Facts and EVNautilus on Youtube. I heavily recommend it if you guys are wanting to see more sea life! On a general basis, I also recommend Odd Animal Specimens just bc their videos on preserved animals are genuinely mind capturing.

Bonus shout out to Mr.ACCORDION for their covers helping me power through the struggle of writing... I'm a Lit/Lang student, but at what cost...

[bellaxgiornata]

How Far Does it Go; When Does it End?

Pairing: Matt Murdock x depressed!fem!Reader Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings/tags: 18+; depiction of depression, suicidal ideation if you squint, confession of feelings, and angst with a hopeful ending [please don't read if any of this could be triggering]

Summary: It's been weeks that you've just been going through the motions day by day. But when you decline yet another invitation to Josie’s with your friends, a worried Matt takes it upon himself to check up on you.

a/n: This one is a little bit depressing because I've been going through some things and have been craving angst, but I promise the ending is hopeful. As mentioned in the tags, please don't read if you believe it might be triggering. Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

tag list: @1988-fiend @geminadeckerwritesstuff @flowher @sleepysleepymom @kezibear @writtenbyred @moncherriis @a-half-empty-g1rl @beezusvreeland @da3m0nsneverstop

Unsure how long you'd been sitting there entranced by the snow steadily accumulating along the tops of the parked cars lining the street below, you stared at the flurry of snowflakes blowing outside of the window. Tonight Hell's Kitchen was set afire by the orange glow of its street lights, the haunting warmth of them reflecting off of the snow banks. A few cars were carefully making their way through the mess of slush and ice along the road, otherwise it seemed bleak and lifeless in the city this evening.

Personally you’d always hated how little sunlight there was during the winter months. On weekdays you rose in the mornings to get ready for work before the sun had even risen. By the time you'd even managed to leave the office after work, the sun had already set. For you, most days this time of year passed by with you barely seeing more than a sliver of sunlight–because your small cubicle certainly didn't have any windows. And it wasn't likely that you would ever find yourself working anywhere with an actual view.

Resting your forehead against the chilled glass of your living room window, you released a nearly inaudible sigh as you stared out into the blackness of the night. You probably should have been doing a number of other things right now–cleaning up the dishes that had piled in your sink, taking your growing load of laundry to the laundromat a block over, or even compiling a grocery list to stock your empty fridge. But instead you just sat there leaning over the armrest of your couch, losing count of how many taxis you'd seen skid across the icy road while imagining what it might feel like if one of them just lost control and careened straight into you on the crosswalk below. 

You were so far tucked into your mind that when a dark shape dropped down onto your fire escape mere inches from your face, you had barely even reacted. Instead your eyes slowly rose up, your gaze gradually trailing its way up along the black-clad figure. Though you didn't need to see the mask covering the man's face to know who'd just landed on your fire escape. The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen–or rather, one of your best friends and the subject of your unrequited affections, Matthew Murdock.

“Do you mind?” Matt's muffled voice came from outside, a hand gesturing to the window. “It's kind of cold out here.”

Pushing yourself away from the glass, you rose from the couch and stepped over to the window, reaching up and unlatching the locks. You began to slide the window up as high as it could go before stepping aside to let Matt in. A frigid gust of air and a flutter of snowflakes followed behind him as he slipped through the opening.

Sinking back into the same spot on your couch without a word, you watched as Matt turned and shut the window after himself. A dusting of snow sat along his muscular shoulders, the white a sharp contrast to all of his black. For a moment all you could do was stare at the little flecks of white, watching as they slowly began to disappear, melting into the darkness.

The sound of Matt clearing his throat broke through your daze, pulling you back to reality. He looked good standing in your living room wearing his makeshift vigilante costume. Honestly a part of you hated whenever he stopped by your apartment dressed like this solely for that reason. Because it physically pained you to look at him, especially as you watched him reach a gloved hand up to remove the mask from off of his head, the cloth giving way to reveal his face. 

He was still the most beautiful thing in your life.

“Hey,” Matt greeted, sounding slightly winded. He tossed his mask onto your coffee table, running a hand through his mussed hair as he strode towards the couch to take a seat beside you. “We missed you at Josie’s tonight.”

You fought down the doubtful scoff at his comment. It seemed highly unlikely that Matt, Karen, and Foggy had truly missed your melancholic presence at the bar tonight. The three of them could often hold full conversations before they even remembered you were silently sitting at the table with them. Which was partly why you hadn't felt like meeting them again tonight for drinks, because you were tired of feeling like the often forgotten fourth wheel of the group. 

You shrugged weakly. “Wasn't in the mood for Josie’s,” you simply said.

“Seems you haven't been in the mood for Josie’s for awhile,” Matt gently pointed out. “It's been weeks since you last joined us there.”

“Oh,” you replied.

Truthfully you didn't know exactly how long it had been since you'd last met them all there for drinks after work. The days had all blurred together lately. Maybe that explained why Matt had been so persistent on the phone when he'd called after work and continued to try and convince you to join them. But even he didn't succeed.

“Is everything alright with you?” Matt asked, his brows creasing together as his eyes fixed somewhere around your chin. “Because you seem…distant lately. Quieter than usual.”

“I'm always quiet,” you countered.

“Yes, well,” Matt said, shooting you one of his charming smiles meant to ease the tension in the room. “You seem like you're even more lost in thought than usual.”

You shrugged again before slumping back into the couch cushions. “Is that so wrong?”

The frown on Matt's mouth deepend further. “Depends,” he answered.

“On what?” you asked.

You noticed his brief hesitation, the slight pause as his head titled just a bit to the side. His eyes were scanning you now, traveling around the space you occupied beside him. 

You knew what he was doing. Reading you. Reading your body with his senses in a way that only he could. Usually that made you uncomfortable whenever you caught him doing it because you were uncertain what he might learn–like your feelings for him. So generally you called him out on it. But not tonight. Tonight you just…didn't have the energy for it.

“It depends on what you're thinking about,” Matt finally answered.

“Nothing really,” you told him. 

Matt's shoulders dropped at your response, the corners of his lips twitching downwards. You caught the way his eyes tightened in something akin to frustration. It was obvious what was coming next–the patented Matthew Murdock attempt to pry too hard for answers. Though fortunately for you he wouldn't be using his fists to get them. 

“Talk to me,” Matt ordered, shifting on the couch to face you more fully. “What's going on? Why are you shutting yourself off from everyone?”

You pulled a face at the accusation. “That’s not what I’m doing,” you argued. “Besides, isn’t that the kettle calling the pot black or something?” 

“You've been avoiding all of us for weeks,” Matt pointed out, ignoring your attempt to divert his attention. “Always making some excuse not to come out, or that you’re too tired for anyone to stop over. And you've been ignoring all of our calls.”

“I have not,” you disagreed. “I spoke to you on the phone earlier tonight.”

“Yeah,” Matt swiftly agreed with a nod. “But that was only because I called you about eight times before you finally answered.” 

His lips pursed tight together, looking as if he was internally conflicted for a second like there was more he wanted to say. You wondered why he’d even hesitated because in all the time you’d known Matt, he wasn’t usually the type to hold his tongue. 

“I've noticed you're always in your bed when I pass by at night,” he finally said. “Earlier than when you’d usually go to sleep. And I know you're not actually sleeping.”

Your chest tightened at the knowledge that Matt had been checking in on you in the evenings without you knowing. How much had he overheard while you’d been in your apartment? 

Eyes dropping down to your hands, you began to nervously pick at your fingernails. “I have a hard time falling asleep,” you mumbled.

“I can smell the tears,” Matt told you. “Even from outside your apartment. You can't hide them from me. For weeks now I've noticed you lying in bed just crying at night.” He paused, shaking his head and briefly wincing before he continued. “Something is going on and you're shutting us out. I'm not stupid. I know what you're doing. So just–just tell me what's going on. Please.”

You contemplated lying even though you knew he'd be able to tell. Then you contemplated making up something just to get him to stop asking questions. You even contemplated telling him off for eavesdropping before cursing him out for invading your privacy. But what surprised you was how you felt compelled to just tell him the truth. Because you were just too damn tired to do anything else.

“Why?” you asked weakly. “Why do you want to know?”

Matt’s entire face tightened, looking as if he was offended you'd even asked him that. Then seconds later his expression abruptly shifted to irritation and you braced yourself at the sight of it.

“Because I care about you!” he snapped, his frustration finally coming out. “We all do! And we're concerned about you! How do you not get that?”

You flinched at the volume of his voice, shrinking in on yourself on the couch. Matt had never spoken to you like that before and it had taken you by surprise. Clenching your jaw tighter, you began to pick faster at your nails. Beside you Matt released a sigh, his head dropping down towards his chest as one of his gloved hands reached up, the heel of it rubbing at his temple.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I’m just worried, okay? I didn’t mean to yell. I just want to help.”

“Sometimes you can’t.”

The words had slipped out of your mouth before you could stop them. Like a knee-jerk reaction. Out of your peripheral you saw Matt’s head raise up again, his eyes landing near you on the couch. You froze, your fingers halting their fidgeting.

“What?” he asked softly. 

“Sometimes you can’t,” you repeated. “Sometimes there's people you can’t help, Matt.”

His eyes narrowed back at you. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Tongue feeling heavy in your mouth as you tried to swallow back the lump forming in your throat, you knew there was no turning back now. He’d only pry harder if you tried to push him away at this point. Being as stubborn as Matt was, you wouldn’t put it past him to sit on your couch until the sun came up waiting for you to tell him what he wanted. 

So with a heavy sigh, you finally gave in.

“Do you ever feel like you're just…making it?” you hesitantly asked Matt.

Finally tearing your eyes from your hands, you looked in his direction, though your gaze didn't quite land on him. Rather it hovered somewhere just over his shoulder as you stared at a patched over spot on the wall. Ever since you'd moved here you’d often wondered how it had gotten there. 

“How so?” he questioned.

“Like you're just getting by–day to day, week to week?” you explained. “As if your life isn't actually going anywhere? Like you're barely holding it together and you're just one little thing from it completely falling apart? And maybe you’ve finally just, I don’t know, become numb to the fear of that happening? Because who cares, really. What does it matter?” 

Matt shifted a bit closer to you on the couch, moving slow and careful like he didn’t want to startle you. “Is that how you’ve been feeling? Like things don’t matter?”

Your eyes slid over from the patched up space on the wall and finally landed back on Matt’s face. You recognized the look there instantly. Genuine concern was written in the way his eyes were pinched tight and fixed along your chest; the firm set of his lips as his head tilted marginally to the side proving how gravely invested he was in the conversation. It was the same way he looked whenever he was intensely focused on someone out in Hell's Kitchen in need of help. You’d seen it on his face in the past when he was here as the Devil, right before he’d jump out of your window to go find whoever it was that needed him. 

But right now he was using that look on you. The gravity of it had you sitting there with your lips parted feeling like you were on the verge of either fully opening up or completely closing yourself off to him. 

And then, somehow all at once, everything poured forth from you like a teetering cup finally spilling over.

“I mean I get up, brush my teeth, get ready for work, see all the neverending and overwhelming terrible shit on the news in the morning like that's normal while I drink down a massive coffee just to survive the day. Then I go to work, smile at all the right moments, make inane small talk while feeling utterly invisible busting my ass knowing that I'm never getting that damn promotion let alone a pay raise just so I can afford to actually live out here,” you continued, everything you'd been holding back just falling out of you in a rush of words. “Then I what? Go home and cook and eat and wash the dishes and go to bed? Except going to sleep is a chore. Trying to quiet my mind is exhausting. Facing the same demons in my sleep night after night is too much. And then,” you said, aware that Matt's face had fallen, his hands gently gripping your knees even though you hadn't felt when he'd actually grabbed them, “the morning comes.”

When you didn't elaborate further Matt's head curiously tilted to the side.

“Isn't that good?” he questioned. 

“Is it?” you asked in return. 

There was a long pause, a silence filled with so many unspoken words. As you sat there staring at Matt, you could see the thoughts racing in his mind. You kept quiet as you wondered which one would eventually win out. Because you knew Matt. You knew he'd have something to say. But for some reason that also scared you a little.

When he finally spoke he said your name, the sound of it different than usual as it rolled off of his tongue–somehow tender and delicate. It took you entirely off guard, something stirring within you at the way he'd spoken it. There was an emotion struggling to break past the dam that had been staving your feelings off for weeks now, but you chose to push it back down in the moment. With your own mind spiraling, you continued on.

“There’s like this–this emptiness,” you confessed. “It’s heavy but it feels like nothing at all. You know? And it just sits right here–” You laid a hand flat across your chest, noticing the tears building in Matt’s eyes as they followed the movement. “It’s like there’s a hole. Like a blackhole just sucking everything into it lately. Everything . And I can’t do anything about it. Do you know what I mean? It’s just there .” 

You paused, licking your lips as you felt the heaviness of that metaphorical blackhole in your chest weighing you down even now. It wasn’t until Matt’s hands gripped your knees tighter that you remembered he was still touching you.

“It’s just always there,” you said, slowly losing momentum. “And I’m just left wondering how far does that emptiness go? Does it ever end?”

A long, heavy silence filled the room when you’d finally quieted. Gaze dropping down to Matt’s gloved hands still gripping your knees, you suddenly found yourself feeling ridiculous for having spilled all of that to him. You’d never gotten that personal with Matt before, certainly not about your struggles with depression. And now here you’d just dumped it on him all at once.

“I'm sorry,” you blurted, shaking your head. “That was–”

“Stop,” he ordered.

Mouth still hanging open, you stared back at him dumbfounded. He was sitting there on the couch with tears brimming in his eyes, his lips quivering as if he was struggling not to start crying himself. You felt horrible for having unloaded on him like that, for making him feel like he currently felt.

“I’m sor–”

“ Stop ,” he repeated.

Matt's hands released your knees, sliding up the outside of your thighs so carefully before they made their way towards your back. Before you'd known what was even happening, he was pulling you straight into himself on the couch, drawing you right into his chest. You didn’t fight him, not even as his strong arms encircled your waist and held you tight. Your own arms remained at your side, your cheek pressed right up against Matt’s firm shoulder as you sat there uncertain how to react. 

“I didn’t know,” Matt whispered. 

You frowned, shaking your head against his shoulder. “It wasn’t on you to know, Matt,” you replied. “I didn’t want anyone to know. That was the point.”

“Yes, but I’d heard you crying for weeks now–”

“Probably shouldn’t be eavesdropping then,” you muttered.

“–and I didn’t piece anything together,” he continued. “I figured maybe you were going through a breakup or something. From one of those dating app things you use. I didn’t know it was something much more serious.”

“I’m fine ,” you assured him. 

“No, you’re not,” he countered, his arms holding you even tighter to the front of himself as if that alone could keep you from falling apart. “You’re not, not if you feel like that. And maybe–maybe you should talk to someone,” he suggested carefully. “Because you know it's okay if you need to. There's nothing wrong with seeking help.”

“What do you mean?” you asked. “Like a therapist?”

“If that's what would help, yes,” he answered. “But you know you're not alone, right? I'm always here. Always . So are Karen and Fog. You can talk to us, too.”

Turning your head, you attempted to hide your face against his shoulder. With your nose pressed against his spandex shirt, you could easily smell his sweat from his evening running around the city. The scent of it surrounding you felt both oddly comforting and strangely intimate. 

“I don't want to put this on any of you,” you mumbled into his shirt. 

“You know,” Matt began slowly, resting his chin lightly atop your head, “it's okay to let other people in. You don't have to keep everyone at a distance like you usually do. Some of us want to get closer to you.”

“Not to this part of me,” you whispered. “Not to this…dark part of me.”

“I let you into mine,” Matt quietly pointed out. “You might have accidentally discovered I was the Man in Black, but the rest of it? The heightened senses? The night I started going out like this? My childhood?” He shifted above you, turning his face so he could bury it against the top of your head. “I showed you the darker parts of me. I let you in.”

You knew he was right the moment he'd said it. Matt had told you so much about himself after you'd accidentally uncovered his big secret. He'd revealed so much about his dad's passing and the pain of his mentor, Stick, disappearing on him. He'd told you about his struggles hearing the people of Hell’s Kitchen in need of help and how he just couldn't ignore it any longer. He'd even told you about his ex, Elektra, and how she'd abandoned him like so many others in his life. But you'd never understood why he had.

“Yeah,” you agreed softly. “You did. Though I've never understood why you let me in like you did. Because you definitely don't let others in, either, Matt. Foggy doesn't even know most of what you've told me.”

Above you Matt shifted, turning to rest his cheek against the top of your head. You sat in his embrace with your arms awkwardly at your side, that strange feeling he'd stirred awake in you just minutes ago steadily demanding to be felt.

“I thought it would have been obvious,” Matt began. “Because I'm always stopping by to see you here when I'm out. Always calling and inviting you out to Josie’s because I want you there. Letting you see all of me when I don't show anyone else.”

Your face scrunched up at his words, uncertain if he was getting at what you thought he might be getting at. Bottom lip rolling between your teeth, you began to nervously gnaw at it as you felt one of his hands begin to absently rub a soothing circle on your back.

“I care about you,” he confessed. “As more than a friend. I have for a long time.”

You nearly stopped breathing at his surprising admission, your body going still in his arms. This was not how you saw the evening going when he appeared on your fire escape. 

“I always just figured the whole Man in Black thing was too much for you,” he continued. “So I never said anything. But I always thought you knew that's how I felt.”

“I–I didn't,” you whispered, still stunned.

Matt cleared his throat, his hand stopping its absent movement on your back. You missed the comfort of it immediately. 

“I'm sorry, this isn't the time or place for this conversation,” Matt apologized. “I just…always thought you knew.”

Your own arms hesitantly found their way around Matt’s waist, finally hugging him in return. Somehow you felt his hold on you tighten further in response, a small smile slipping onto your face.

“You're right, it's not the time,” you agreed. “But for the record, I've always cared about you as more than a friend, too. I just figured you didn't feel the same or were just too busy to, you know, want something more.”

Another silence fell between the pair of you as you sat there curled around each other on your couch. Your eyes closed when his hands once more began their comforting movements along your back, your own hands fisting around the material of his shirt. For the first time in a long time you didn't feel so alone. For once you felt seen. 

“You know something,” you whispered, breaking the stillness of your apartment.  

“What?” Matt whispered against your hair.

“I get it,” you told him. Shifting in his arms, you unburied your face from its place against him, once more resting your cheek against his shoulder instead as you spoke. “I get why you do it. Why you go out at night like this,” you told him. “Because of the pain raging inside of you–the same thing I feel sometimes. And because of how it feels like the world is sometimes falling apart around us. Because it's hard to just sit back and feel like there's nothing you can do, nothing you can change.” 

You paused, your own arms holding onto him a little tighter. Matt had gone still though, as if he was intensely focused on everything you were saying.

“If I could go out and save a life, or stop a mugging, or save a child from their parents’ abuse, or rescue a young woman from an assault, I would.” A tear slipped out of your eye as you paused to exhale a shuddering breath. “And if I could hear so many others in pain, I would be going out and doing something about it, too. So I get it, Matt. Why you do what you do. And I honestly don't think that's dark at all despite how you often talk about it.”

“No?” he whispered.

“No,” you replied. “I think it's admirable. I've always thought that.”

At first Matt didn't respond, and as the silence grew around the pair of you, you wondered if you'd finally said too much tonight. Gone too far. But then you felt something gently fall into your hair, and then another and another. It took a moment before you realized they were droplets of tears.  

Crying. Matt was crying. 

“I'm sorry,” you apologized automatically, your arms attempting to unwrap from around him as you tried to pull away. “I'm so sor–”

“I said stop,” he croaked out, his arms still encircled around you, keeping you in place against his chest. “Stop apologizing.”

“I–I don't–” you stammered in confusion. “I didn't mean to upset you, Matt.”

“I'm not upset,” he explained, removing his face from where it had been pressed to the top of your head. “It's just hearing that from you,” he began slowly, “it…means more than you know. Because I–I have always thought there was something wrong with me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Matt,” you immediately assured him.

“Well there's nothing wrong with you, either,” he told you. 

Tears brimmed in your eyes instantly. The dam that had felt like it was holding back all of your feelings lately–the dam that had been keeping you numb–suddenly felt as if it had finally broken as the first few tears slipped down your cheeks.

“Like I said, I know this isn't exactly the time for this conversation, but I just wanted you to know that you matter to someone,” Matt confessed. “Because you matter to me.”

Hands gripping firmly onto Matt as if he was grounding you as all your emotions came surging forth, your tears continuing to fall, you whispered back, “You matter to me, too.”

You felt Matt's mouth lightly press a kiss to the top of your head. As his lips lingered, an unexplainable weightlessness filled you. 

“And while I don't have an answer for how you're feeling,” he said softly, “I want you to know that I'm here. Whenever you need me. However you need me. Okay? Because you're not alone. You're never alone.”

Eyes slowly closing as you began to finally relax in his embrace, you felt the tears spill in steady streams down your cheeks. Maybe not everything was quite as bleak as your mind had led you to believe lately. Maybe there was still some good in the world to be grateful for. And maybe you did need to finally reach out and get some help. 

But for now, you just liked the idea of not crying alone in your bed again. 

“Is it too much to ask you to stay with me for a bit?” you asked hopefully. “I wouldn't mind having some company tonight.”

Matt placed another soft kiss into your hair.  “I'll stay as long as you want, sweetheart,” he promised.

[wolfpants]

unfinished fridays

I've been thinking a lot about the WIP I abandoned for my original @dronarryfest entry. I put a lot of work into the worldbuilding of this, the plot and narrative, but it became something way bigger than I could feasibly handle - especially in approach of the deadline. Maybe one day I'll finish it, this Ron-centric forced bonding (Dron, with endgame Dronarry) chamber play. Let me know if you'd like to see more, and maybe I'll pick it up again before the end of the year.

Meanwhile, do you have any unfinished WIPs you think about often? Tagging (no pressure) @skeptiquewrites @kbrick @getawayfox @tackytigerfic @sweet-s0rr0w @oknowkiss @maesterchill @thehoneybeet @phdmama @the-starryknight

-

From: Precious Metal, Dron-centric, Dronarry endgame

Malfoy puts his hands on Ron’s upper arms and spins him around, ushering him back inside. His fingers are surprisingly warm, the skin of his hands soft as he plants them firmly on Ron’s bare back and shoves him into the cottage so he can close the door behind them.

“I thought we were trying not to die, Weasley.”

“Wh-wh—” is all about Ron can manage, and he swears, frustrated, through shivering lips. 

Malfoy’s muttering something about how stupid Ron is, and Ron is just letting it happen, just like he’s letting Malfoy drag him into the bathroom. 

The spider plant’s gone.

Malfoy pulls his wand from the waistband of his posh trousers and points it at the bath. In seconds, the stained tub fills with cloudy water and the room steams up with the aromatic scent of bergamot. 

“Don’t ask me why,” Malfoy says sharply when Ron’s mouth makes a small ‘o’. “My conjured hot water’s always smelled like that.”

“M-m-mi—”

“Oh, for fuck sake, Weasley.” Malfoy shudders, rubbing his hands over his own arms as he wraps them around himself. “Get in! Before you kill us both!”

Ron leaves his pants on as he awkwardly steps over the rim of the bath, one leg at a time. He shivers and slowly bends to sit, blinking as the water laps around him, hot but not hot enough to hurt. 

He was right. His knees do come up to his chin.

Malfoy’s shuddering subsides, and after a beat, he rolls up his sleeves and sinks to the tiled floor. 

“Wh-what--re—y—”

Malfoy dips a hand into the water behind Ron’s curved back. Ron squirms away, staring at him in alarm, his arms wrapped around his knees protectively.

Malfoy runs a wet hand down the dry top half of Ron’s back. The warm water soothes his skin, trickling between his shoulder blades.

“Idiot,” Malfoy whispers again.

Ron lets out a slow breath. His heart stops pattering wildly against his ribs, and the feeling steadily returns to his extremities. 

“Mine smells like apples,” he says, resting a cheek on one knee.

“Beg pardon?” Malfoy asks. His touches are oddly—tender. Well-practised.

 I have a family to look after.

“My conjured hot water,” Ron mumbles. “Smells like apples. Red ones. Malfoy?”

Malfoy hums in response. He pulls his hand from the bath and shakes it out. Water sprinkles off his skin and into the air, the droplets catching the light outside the window. His wedding ring, unlike his others, is gold.

“Are you a father?”

Ron realises, suddenly, that he doesn’t know.

“What?” Malfoy asks, drying a hand on one of the towels Bill and Corner brought with them last night. 

“Do you have a kid?”

Malfoy clears his throat and looks down at what he’s doing: meticulously twisting the towel over each finger, ensuring every inch of skin is completely dry.

“I don’t, no,” he says quietly. “Though not for lack of trying.” His eyebrows snap together; he reacts to his own words like he’d been slapped. He works his jaw, regret flooding his gaze as he looks back at Ron. “Forget I said that, please.”

[melodioustear]

Hi friends - it's been a bit, here at least. Remember when we only had to manage one or two social media accounts to stay in contact with people because they hadn't dispersed to a dozen different places? That was nice.

If you're not aware, 2023 has not been kind to me, and I am presently living with my (very kind, very generous) grandmother whilst finalising my divorce. My health has been rough, managing my audhd has been rough, it's a rough year. But! I have taken a huge amount of joy and pride and gratitude in being able to continue my PhD and not having to take (another) intermission.

As such, it's been a teensy bit hard to maintain posting about how my research is going. But as I've recently come to find that asynchronous sharing is easier for me and more accessible for people than trying to maintain Twitch streaming, I want to try and post here a little more, even if it's very infrequent.

So, to give you a relatively swift update on where we are:

I had supervision last month and we did a lot of edit planning and nailing down of the issues with my chapter draft, which was just about complete before that meeting. A large amount of the problem was that I had separated my discussion about the survey results and my arguments for the chapter. I made my next target sorting this out, editing things together, finishing the chapter off and if possible doing this for the video games chapter too (spoiler alert: I will not be managing to do both).

One of the main issues that my supervisor highlighted was that in that draft, I had no fanfiction. In my fanfiction chapter. We'd discussed the ethical steps I wanted to take with citing fanfiction, such as not using archive-locked fanfiction, getting author consent to cite, and making sure I'm not citing a fandom with a history of abuse (to protect myself).

This is what I've spent this week fixing. I have found a fanfic which is, and I cannot stress this enough, utterly perfect as an example. It's in a fandom with canonical mental illness, the story is top 50 for kudos and top 10 for kudos-with-mental-illness-tags in its fandom, and it is complete at 225k words. The story is not only brilliantly written, but it has a meta-story within it that essentially makes fandom itself into a character, and then uses it as both metaphor and engine for the main character's healing. It doesn't present healing as linear, shows everything in shades of grey, and has spawned both its own fanfiction and fanart as well as so many comments from people explaining how the story helped them with their own situations. And best of all - the author (hi if you're reading this, you're wonderful) has given me permission to cite it. So this is now something I'm poised to start writing up.

The other side to what I'm working on to sort the chapter's issues comes from a workshop I did at the FSNNA conference this month. It was on a particular kind of data analysis called topic modelling and works as a really good jumping board for identifying connections within a large data set (which, if you take the write-in question text for my survey, I am working with). My hope is to use this to form a structure for my close-reading reflections, as well as potentially highlighting things I might've missed.

But, I am trying to be good and take this all slowly and steadily. Whilst I am behind where I wanted to be, it is only natural - as my mentor reminded me this week - that as my research progresses it'll deviate and transform in unexpected ways. This chapter may take a little longer, but others may be a little shorter - for example, my next chapter is on roleplaying and as my MA thesis was on that I have a lot more existing knowledge about the current work on it in academia.

And lastly, I had my first academic publication! I'm a real academic now! You can read my reflections on Madness, control and agency in video games at the Polyphony, where I talk specifically about the games Pillars of Eternity (& sequel) and Please Knock on My Door.

Thanks everyone so much for your continued interest in my work - I really appreciate it <3

[tisiphonewolfe]

Romantic Snippet Tag

Thanks for tagging me @elshells and @sam-glade! Since there's two of you, that'll be two snippets, coming up! Their posts are here and here respectively

I used to say I'd never write romance. That's before I figured out I was a trans lesbian and now there's romance somewhere in all my works, though not always as the main focus. Gives me plenty to work with here!

Tags for @indy-gray @comicgoblinart @acertainmoshke if you wanna do this!

From Made with Crown and Claw:

Almyra drew the curtain shut and slipped into bed behind Releine, wrapping her arms around her. They were not unaccustomed to sleeping like this after the stops they had made on their journey thus far. It was hard not to become entangled when you couldn’t be more than an arm’s length from each other. But Releine felt Almyra press her body up against her - felt the Princess lift her head, and Releine’s skin prickled as she kissed her neck. “Are you awake?” “Hmnh?!” was the only flustered response Releine could summon. Almyra’s breath was hot and steady behind her ear. Releine turned her head, her cheek meeting another kiss, and she felt herself melt beneath its press. Almyra’s soft hand was slowly stroking its way over her skin, fingers toying with the soft hair below her navel, and further down still. “Is this okay?” the Princess whispered, her lips brushing against Releine’s ear.

And - because I've been getting really back into this project a lot lately - for the first time on this blog, some Naenia, Through Murder:

“Well, that’s past and present. What about the future, my sweet fortune-teller?” the Detective spoke lowly, in a voice like butter. “How will I die?” Naenia jerked with alarm, causing Carina to retract her arm swiftly. Her eyes widened in shock as Naenia stood and swayed. Does she suspect? “No. This, I cannot tell you. Will not tell you. Please do not ask me that.” “You’re serious?” Carina’s face was a whirl of frowned suspicion and smiled concern. “Okay. I’m sorry. Forget I said it - I was only teasing.” “I do not,” Naenia forced herself to say steadily, “wish to consider your death.” “Ah. Right. I get it.” The frown had retreated, and Carina smiled sheepishly. “You are a strange one, but I love that about you, you know? You only have to say when something isn’t okay. Er, spiritually, I guess. But also in general. Sorry, I’m fucking this up.” “All is well. Thank you.” Naenia leaned down, not quite knowing why, and touched her cracked, peeling lips to the Detective’s cheek as she had done to Naenia many times before. “Please excuse me. I must return to my work.” Naenia hurried away from the blushing Detective, the crowd of children blankly kicking the ball past her. She tried not to think about her pocket watch, nor how it whispered to her that Detective Carina Choudhry had died from her wounds two months ago.

[dice-nagito-ace]

don't buy me flowers (it pains me to watch pretty little things wilt away)

Characters: Komaeda Nagito, Unknown Male

Tags: Major Character Death, Hanahaki Disease, Unrequited Love, Requited Love, Unreliable Narrator

i cut straight to the heart

his throat hurts, it's a familiar ache, a nostalgic burn, only eased by the cooling blood backing the end, waiting for him to cough up his yearning, bloodied petals tickling his insides, caressing the tender flesh and grazing opening cuts.

i don't believe the pretty little things that you say

it builds and it builds with each hollow promise that seeps into his skin, stabbing him like the iv against his wrist.

i've heard a lot of little pretty things

he waits, he's always been good at waiting, waits for him to leave, the door clicking shut and his weak hands tremble but steadily pulls out the trash can underneath his bed to let the poison fall from his lips.

the tiny flowers kiss his lips as they fall out.

don't buy me flowers, it pains me to watch pretty little things wilt away

such small things, barely the size of his palm, he could gather them all in one hand and yet, they've caused so much pain.

pretty little things wilt away

the thing is. you can't help someone who doesn't want your help.

he thinks it's nice, how they try to make him think, make him believe in the lies they spin, hoping the wool will cover his eyes and mouth, keep the petals from spilling out.

alas, it doesn't work that way, but it was nice, for once, to receive an ounce of care.

he just wishes he could do away with the devastation slowly creeping along their faces, it breaks the illusion.

he tells them as much and is confused, with the way they cry.

pretty little things wilt away

"we failed you." he doesn't get it, there's no test at all when it comes to him, he's already known that he'll always be left yearning.

he coughs but he doesn't have much blood left to bleed, the petals are white and pure, innocent were it not for its origins.

"let's just keep playing pretend." is all he can muster, smiling weakly, that was better than this, making someone he cared for, cry once more.

perhaps, they thought, they can fake it till he can make it.

he didn't make it.

pretty little things wilt away

when they wake, he's still in their arms, ethereal in his sleep, you'd almost be hesitant to wake him up were it not for the fact that this was eternal.

there's flowers growing in his hair, the same kind that grew a garden in his lungs, later on, scans will show the pretty little things have overgrown his heart too.

pretty little things wilt away