#there was another drafted version with their faces on it but i decided against it bc these expressions were funnier

[charliemwrites]

Sooooo I learned a valuable lesson last night. Which is not to draft things in tumblr. Because I wrote almost all of this in drafts, was like 15 minutes from posting. And then the app glitched when I changed the song I was listening to and lost everything.

I’m not entirely sure I wrote this version half as well as the original, which is maddening. But please enjoy this next part to the Mister(s) Steal Your Girl (poly 141) series.

Content:Safe/Sane/Consensual Intimacy

You honestly didn’t expect to speak to Kyle again after the bookshop encounter. Sure, you exchanged numbers and he seemed so sincere, but your faith in reading people has been a bit shaken as of late.

That said, you wouldn’t have held it against him if you didn’t. You’d had a wonderful time meeting someone new, even if just for a moment. He seemed like a busy man in a high-stress job, it wouldn’t be a surprise if he looked at your open-relationship-with-a-fiance situation and decided it was too much drama.

But the very next day after meeting him, he sends you a text. Repeating that he had a great time and asking if you’ve already started any of the books you bought.

You try (and probably fail) not to giggle like a schoolgirl every time he texts you. He’s as sweet through the phone as he was in person. Throughout the week, he checks on you (more messages than you’ve gotten from your fiance in a month) asking after your days and nights and generally chatting.

On Thursday at lunch, you ask if he’d like to meet up again, heart clenching anxiously. Nearly throw your phone across the break room when his name pops up as an incoming call.

When you answer, he doesn’t even waste time on a greeting.

“I’d like to take you on a date, luv,” he specifies, voice silky and amused in your ear.

Date one is a nice dinner. He shows up at the door with flowers. You have to take a second to blink away the mist in your eyes.

“Sorry, sorry,” you hurry to say, summoning a smile. “Just no one’s ever bought me flowers. Thank you, they’re wonderful.”

And then you realize that probably sounds pathetic and quickly turn away to deposit them in a vase. (Miss the baffled and almost offended frown on Kyle’s face as that processes.)

At dinner, the two of you toast by tapping your appetizers together. He feeds you bites of his meal from his own fork, and you let him try your wine, giggling at the faces he makes.

The night ends (after dessert, a walk in the park, and a nightcap at a quiet bar) at your front door. Kyle fits a big, warm hand on your waist, pulls you in… and drops a chaste kiss to your cheek.

You try not to let your disappointment show, but he must catch it because he chuckles and gently nudges your face back into position. Graces you with another kiss at the corner of your mouth.

“I want to, darling,” he admits, so close you’re sharing air. “Trust me, I want to. But I need you to know I’m doing this for the right reasons too.”

Touched and a little choked up, you hug him tight, cheek pressed to his chest. His breath stutters. And then his strong arms are curling around you, tucking you in, his whole body becoming a warm haven.

“Can we… can we do this again?” you ask hopefully.

“Darling, I’d take you out tomorrow if you’d let me.”

Date two is bowling, which you find Kyle is actually terrible at, despite being a sniper. You laugh and joke through three games, trouncing him each time. He doesn’t seem to mind losing in the slightest, and even takes you out for a victory ice cream afterwards. You hold hands while you lick at the cone.

Date three, you invite him to a wine and paint night. He seems willing, though unsure. By the end, though, the two of you are giggling and tipsy, paint on your hands and faces. He kisses you against the passenger door of his car, lips soft and gentle. Moans when the tip of his tongue skims your bottom lip.

On date four, you sing to the radio in the car. Blush when you catch him sneaking glances at you, but also notice that he goes around the same block twice. Tease that you’re going to be late if he keeps stalling.

At the end of the night, he sweeps you in close on the dance floor.

“Come home with me?” he asks in your ear.

Your heart stumbles as you nod, cheeks hot.

He barely gets you in the door before pressing you back against it. Fingers in your hair, body one firm line pressed flush to yours. Kissing earnest but not rough, flicking at your bottom lip until you open for him with a soft sigh. He tastes like heaven, like the drinks you shared before this. Your fingers curl into his Henley, tugging him closer, arching your back.

The desire he’s been steadily building in your gut bursts into an inferno. You’re burning all over, can barely breathe. Dizzy with his cologne.

You break the kiss with a squeak when he scoops up beneath the thighs.

“I-I’m too heavy!” you gasp, clinging tight.

“Like hell you are,” he scoffs. “Come back here, I’m not done kissing you.”

You hesitate, taking stock. But he doesn’t feel like he’s straining; didn’t even make that mortifying grunt noise. Feel secure enough to lean back just a bit to check his expression.

There’s not an ounce of effort there. Just liquid dark eyes focused on your swollen lips, tilting his chin to coax you back. You go with a little thrill in your stomach, messier this time, teeth scraping.

He bumps you against the wall on his way to the bedroom. It doesn’t hurt but it makes you laugh against his cheek.

“Love your laugh,” he murmurs into your neck. “Could listen to it all day.”

Somehow that makes you flush more than the hard bulge pressing against your ass. So you shove your tongue in his mouth again to shut him up, breathless at his tongue curling against yours.

You squeal when he drops you on the bed with a little bounce, a brilliant, cheeky smile your reward. Then he tugs his shirt off and your mind goes utterly blank.

He’s a monument of strength and discipline, power in every plane of hard-earned muscle. There are glossy scars peppering his skin, and you’re fascinated as much as you are sad for his pain. He looks like a young god. You’ve seen marble statues half as beautiful as him.

“You’re bloody gorgeous,” you whisper, crawling to the edge of the bed.

He shivers and leans into your palms as they explore up his toned stomach, across the defined lines of his chest and shoulders, down his arms. Leave open-mouthed kisses against long-healed wounds and patches of smooth skin alike, appreciating every part of him.

He uses your interlocked fingers to draw you away, bending to meet you halfway. Speckles kisses over your cheeks and jaw, down to a tender spot beneath your ear that makes you hum. You could melt into him and just float.

He pauses there, breathes you in. “Can I take this off?” he asks, plucking at your shirt. You hesitate, just for a beat — but it’s enough to have Kyle pulling back a little.

“We can stop here,” he offers. “Or we can just keep doing this. Whatever you want, luv, I’m not fussed.”

You duck your head, but he doesn’t let you escape for long, gently guiding your gaze up by the chin.

“Talk to me?” he asks.

“I-I want to keep going,” you say, “I’m just… and you’re so…”

He shakes his head, kisses you quiet. “I’m not anything but a man that wants to make his girl happy. In whatever way she’s okay with, yeah?”

You have to blink away another sting of inopportune tears. Then reach for your shirt and pull it off yourself.

“Bloody hell,” he murmurs, eyes going big.

You flush as he nudges you back, spread out amongst the neat sheets and pillows. His eyes trace every inch of you over and over, hands quick to follow. The contrast of his rough palms on your skin makes you squirm and sigh. He touches you like you’re something special, like he wants to savor you.

He nibbles kisses into your collarbones, lavishes your breasts with tongue and gentle teeth. Works his way down your stomach and stops again.

“Can I take the rest off?” he asks.

You don’t hesitate this time, shifting to give him access to the zipper. His hands fumble a bit when he notices the embarrassing wet patch on your underwear, thumbing at your slit through the fabric.

“Please let me eat you out,” he breathes.

You press your thighs together, nervous. “Y-you don’t have to…”

“I want to, luv,” he answers, eyes barely flickering away. “Fuck do I want to.”

Words desert you, so all you can manage is a jerky nod. For the first time, his patience seems to fray as he tugs your underwear off. Barely gets them down to one ankle before diving between your legs.

He laces sweet kisses along your thighs and hips, slowing as he gets closer and closer to where you want him most. His tongue dips into your slit, just skims your throbbing and sensitive clit. You moan softly. The next swipe of his tongue is bolder, curling at your soaked entrance. He groans into you, deep and animal from his chest and makes you shudder.

“That’s it, baby,” he whispers. “Just enjoy.”

It’s impossible not to when he pampers your cunt so thoroughly. Never rough, never too fast. Like he could spend all night between your thighs. Sucking gently at your clit, thrusting his tongue inside, lapping in perfect, even strokes. You didn’t think you enjoyed oral from the few times you’ve experienced it — but Kyle makes it heavenly.

One of his hands, squeezing absently at your hip, travels down. He presses a finger at your entrance, playing in your slick but not going further. Waiting. You murmur a soft “please” that nearly has him growling.

Even just one finger feels like so much. His hands are bigger than yours. And so deliciously clever. It’s not long before you’re babbling for another, crying out softly when he provides. Two fingers curling and rubbing against your slick, sensitive walls and his tongue swirling around your needy clit — it’s so much. Overwhelming and perfect.

“K-Kyle, ‘m gonna…” you keen, shocked by how quickly it’s building.

Then he hums an encouragement and that little extra bit of stimulation sends you hurtling over the edge. You clench around his hand, hips twitching, grinding against his willing mouth through wave after wave. Not even aware of the noises you’re making until they fade off into soft whimpers of overstimulation.

Kyle eases his fingers from you, drops one last kiss to your hip. The lower half of his face is glistening. If you weren’t still somewhere in the stratosphere, you’d be embarrassed. But right now all you can manage is a quiet, needy noise, reaching for him.

He smiles and crawls over you, the warmth of his body soothing your shivery muscles, easing you through aftershocks. You wipe absently at his chin as you exchange lazy, sloppy kisses. Surprised to find that you don’t mind the taste of yourself; not much different than jizz.

“Give me… another second…” you mumble, head falling back as you catch your breath. “I’ll return the favor.”

Against your leg, you can feel him twitch through his jeans. He feels big. Your stomach clenches with want.

“That sounds bloody amazing, don’t get me wrong,” he answers, voice husky in your ear. “But if you’re up for it, I’d like to feel you cumming ‘round my cock.”

You gasp, not sure if you’re scandalized or even more turned on than before. Both?

“Wait, but I already…”

“I know, I was there,” he teases, kissing your temple. “But I wanna see it again. Feel it proper this time.”

You pause, blinking up at him as you trace your fingers along his ribs. “But isn’t that… I dunno, unfair?”

“Fuck no,” he answers. “I’d spend all night just making you cum if you let me.”

You huff and swat at him. “I think you’d kill me.”

“What a way to go, though, eh?” he chuckles, arching his eyebrows.

You groan, but there’s no hiding your grin. He brushes hair back from your face, cups your cheek.

“What do you say, baby? Let me fuck you good and proper.”

You snort, turn to nip his thumb in relation, but chirp, “yes, please!”

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Masterlist

[thatonegenshinsimp]

Hi! I really liked your cuddles and cold mornings with a lover posts, would you be interested in doing/could you do a pantalone version of the cold mornings post with him please? :)

Cold Mornings With a Warm Lover Part 2 (Fem!reader NSFW)

Of course! This was so fun to write ASDXCSFSXC. I decided to add Zhongli to this one as well. Anyways, enjoy~

Notes: My wifi was crapping out when I wrote this and it kept deleting the stuff I added in after I first saved it to my drafts :')

Characters: Pantalone, Zhongli

Masterlist

Part 1

Warnings: NSFW, fem!reader, sub!reader, dom!reader, marking, fingering, creampie, squirting, hair pulling, Adeptus!reader (Zhongli), monsterfucking (Zhongli), draconic!Zhongli (horns, tail, claws), knotting (Zhongli), Zhongli has a ridged cock

NSFW content below, Minors DNI! By scrolling further past this point, you have chosen to read the content below of your own accord!

Pantalone

Pantalone had been awake for a good amount of time when you opened your eyes, sitting up slowly beside him in your large shared bed. You braced yourself on your forearms and looked around, before feeling his gaze on your bare body. Your face reddened as you pulled the covers over your body. “Oh, you’re awake.” You whispered, hiding your face in the pillow. He pulled the covers away and looked down at you, watching as you slowly curled in on yourself. “H-hey, it’s freezing!” You hissed, shivering. “Hm, then how about you let me warm you up this morning?” He asked, his hand making its way to your face as he spoke. Your wedding last night was the catalyst for all of this, not that you were complaining. You had enjoyed last night very much, especially what happened once the two of you arrived home from the wedding dinner. You were barely through the bedroom door with him when you were tugging at his clothes, begging to see what was underneath the elegant suit that Pantalone had worn. And of course, who was he to deny you something you wanted?

You were dragged from your thoughts when he gently pressed his lips against yours, watching as you practically melted under his touch. You leaned against him as he pulled you into his lap, letting you straddle his waist. He smoothed his hands up your thighs and your back, before resting one arm over your middle as his other hand came up to gently cradle your jaw. “You looked lovely in that dress last night, but I think you look much better like this.” He said, kissing you again. He trailed kisses down from your lips to your neck, leaning in and biting down on the skin at your collarbone. You gasped softly, reaching up and threading your fingers through his jet black hair. You tugged it lightly when he pulled at the skin gently with his teeth, pulling back to see the purple love bite he gave you. The hand that was holding your face slowly made its way downward as you focused on him, joining his other arm around your waist. He made sure that you were distracted by him before gently nudging your thighs open with his leg, before holding your legs open and pressing the pads of his middle and index fingers against your slit. You gasped at the sudden feeling, grabbing his shoulders as you felt his fingers slowly press into you. “Ngh~ h-hey, what about you? I wanna make you feel good too.” You mumbled, half lidded eyes gazing up at him. He chuckled softly. “Perhaps another time, but this morning is about you, dearest.” He cooed, his hand speeding up as he curled his fingers to hit that spongy bundle of nerves deep inside of you that he knew drove you crazy. You gasped and moaned loudly as he repeatedly pressed his fingertips against that spot, grinding down against his hand. “Needy thing, don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you this morning.” He whispered in your ear, watching you shudder from the sickeningly sweet tone of voice he was using. You were so, so close, but whined quietly as he pulled his fingers out just before you came. “Patience, I promise it’ll feel good, dearest.” He soothed, waiting for you to come down a little from the hazy and fuzzed headspace you were in. You panted softly as he tilted your face upwards for you to look at him. “Do you want me to be on top this morning?” He asked, watching as you nodded wordlessly. Pantalone flipped the two of you over and slowly pulled the covers over the two of you as he lifted your hips a little. Your breath hitched as he pressed his tip against your entrance, before slowly sliding into you. You immediately grabbed his shoulders as he slowly pressed into you, gasping at the stretch. “Shh, just relax, dearest, I’ve got you.” He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close to him, your chest pressed against his. The blush on your face spread to your shoulders and the tips of your ears as he bottomed out, pressing his hips against yours as his spongy tip knocked against your cervix. “A-Ah~ hNn~ m’so full, you’re s’big- fuck!” You moaned, wrapping your legs around his waist. Pantalone gently grabbed at your waist before he slowly started rocking his hips against yours. You whined and moaned quietly as he grunted softly, trying to keep himself under control.

Your face got somehow even redder as he started pulling back his hips and thrusting them against yours, loud squelching noises filling the room along with the noises of your lovemaking. You grinded your hips against his as he kept thrusting, keeping a steady pace as you tried to keep up. You felt his hand against your cheek and leaned into his touch, looking up at him as he smiled softly down at you. His breath hitched and a loud groan bubbled up in his chest as he hit your sweet spot, feeling your gooey cunt squeeze around his cock tightly. “HnNg~ goodness, does that feel good? Do you want me to do that again, pretty thing?” He asked, leaning down and gently pressing kisses against your neck. You nodded, tugging at his hair again as you got closer to your orgasm. The knot in your lower tummy tightened as he angled his hips and started going faster, hitting that spot repeatedly. Your velvety walls squeezed and spasmed around him as he kept you on the edge, going slower when you got too close. He twitched inside of you as you dug your nails into his broad shoulders, small tears welling up in your eyes. “That’s it, just hold out a little longer.” He whispered, before he sped up even more. His pace was getting sloppier as he left open mouthed kisses against your neck. “Nnh~ please, lemme cum, m’so close, please- AhHng~!” He cut you off with a rough thrust that sent you over the edge, gushing around his thick cock. You wailed his name as you dragged your nails down his back, leaving little red lined in their wake as your eyes rolled back a little. Pantalone looked down at you and rolled his hips against yours as he came, fucking you full of his cum. “That’s it, let me take it from here, ok? You did so good for me.” He soothed, watching as you clung onto him. You panted and whined quietly as you came down from your high, slowly calming down. He slowly pulled out and watched as his cum gushed out of you, soiling the sheets below. He then gently pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you once again. “Pantalone?” You asked, your voice still a little shaky. “Yes, what is it, dearest?” He asked. “Could we go take a bath? I’m all sweaty and sticky now.” You asked, hiding your face in his chest. He chuckled at your shyness, before picking you up and carrying you to the bathroom. “Of course, my love.” He said.

Zhongli

It was rare for Zhongli to stay home for the day, let alone take leave, but he assured you that Hu Tao had given him leave for the festival period since he had helped prepare the Funeral Parlor’s decorations (which he insisted weren’t necessary) for the Lantern Rite Festival. You were just glad to see him at home, since he got up so early in the morning and usually returned well after you had fallen asleep at night.

You woke up to a pair of arms around you and looked behind you, laughing softly when your husband gently nuzzled your neck. “Someone’s touchy this morning.” You teased, reaching back and running your fingers through his hair. You felt something wrap around your leg, and pulled back the covers to reveal his long scaly tail. You looked back and noticed his golden horns as well. “Looks like this was a much needed break period. It seems like you needed some rest from work.” You said. “Ah, compared to the things I’ve had to do on the daily before retiring from my place as an Archon, I’d say that my “job” at the Funeral Parlor is more like a vacation.” He said. “And I certainly never got to do these things with you when we were still working like that. I never had a moment alone with you.” He continued. “To talk to me or to fuck me? Be specific.” You rolled over to face him, laughing when he pinned you down against the bed and spoke. “Careful that you wish for, those are dangerous words you’re saying, even if you are an Adeptus.” He said, watching your face flush and your eyes widen. Without warning, he unbuttoned and slipped off your nightshirt, doing the same to his. He leaned in close and looked for that one spot he remembered so very well on your neck, sinking his pointed fangs into your skin when he found it. “Ngh~!” His actions surprised you, it had been a while since he had done this with you, but you found yourself tilting your head to the side as he marked your neck with his teeth. You reached up and gently grabbed his hands, shivering when he pulled away. “Are you cold? Don’t worry, you’ll be warmed up soon enough.” He cooed. Zhongli leaned in and kissed you, watching your eyes go half lidded as a pleasant lustful gaze clouded them. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you this morning.” He whispered, trailing his hand down to slide down your pants. He hooked his thumb under the waistband of your underwear and pulled them both down, before he finished undressing himself. Without wasting a moment, the soft pads of two of his long, thick fingers were pressed against your slit.

“Look at me.” He mumbled. Watching as the haziness faded from your eyes and you nodded. “Hmm?” You looked up at him. “Are you sure you want to do this? I want to make sure you’re comfortable.” He said, watching as you nodded. You gasped when he slowly slid them in, pinning your thighs to the bed with his knees as he curled his fingers and grazed against your sweet spot. You reached up and grabbed his shoulders as he kept moving his fingers, scissoring them to stretch you out. He pinned your legs down with his tail, wrapping it around your ankles to make sure you couldn’t move your legs. “Mnh~ r-right there, please- Ahn~!” You gasped when he curled his fingers to hit your sweet spot again, moving his hand faster as your grip got tighter. You were about to tip over the edge of bliss when he pulled his hand away, chuckling lowly when you whined softly. You gasped when you felt his tip pressed against your entrance, moaning softly as he slowly slid into you. “Nh~ feels s’big, t-too big, it won’t fit~!” You cried out, but he forced you still. “You’re being too noisy.” He muttered, shoving two fingers into your mouth and pressing the soft pads of them against your tongue. “Every time we do this, every single time, it fits. Lie still and take it like the good girl I know you are, and I’ll reward you, ok?” He cooed, watching you push your hips back to fit more of him inside of you as you nodded. He chuckled. “That’s it, slowly now.” He whispered, pulling his fingers out of your mouth. He held your hips steady as he kept pressing himself into you, his grip tightening as you squeezed around him. “Mnh~ ‘li, Ngh~ stay still, please- Ah~!” He pressed the base of his knot against your entrance, lifting his head from your shoulder and pressing soft kisses against your skin. He trailed kisses up from your shoulder to your neck, before sinking his fangs into your skin. “HAh~!” You dragged your nails down his back, gasping and whining. He tensed up slightly when you scratched down his back a little, your sharp nails drawing little red lines on his skin. He stayed still for a bit, letting you adjust as he rocked his hips against yours slowly and gently. “Hn~ look at you, you’re already so pliant under my touch, aren’t you? You’re just waiting for me to ruin you~” his long serpentine tongue licked his lips as he spoke. You nodded, already almost mindless from the way he was now rolling his hips steadily against yours. You slowly reached up and linked your hands with his, breaking his concentration for a moment as he looked at you. It was a way for you to be closer to him, not that he minded. He wrapped his tail around your leg as he went faster, his tip bumping up against your cervix as his ridged shaft grazed against your velvety walls. “Right th-there, please- Hnn~ ‘li, don’t stop- AhnNg~!” You moaned loudly as his tip hit your sweet spot, raising your hips to let him get a better angle. “Such a good girl- fuck- I’m gonna fill you up nicely, gonna stuff you full and breed you~” he whispered, his grip on your hips tightening as he twitched inside of you. His pace was getting sloppy, and he was panting softly as he got closer to his release. He pressed his lips hotly against yours, muffling your cries of pleasure as he went faster. Your hands went from being over his to his shoulders again, squeezing them as the coil in your lower belly tightened. “M-Morax, m’close, m’so close- AHhng~!” He gripped you tighter as he heard you call him that name. He loved it when you did that, you knew he did. Your eyes rolled back as your orgasm washed over you, your body shaking as it hit you in waves. He slammed his hips against yours a few more times before his knot swelled inside of you, trapping his thick cum deep in your spasming cunt. He fucked you through it, rolling his hips against yours as you rode out your high with him. After you had come down somewhat from your highs, you pulled away from him as you spoke.

“It seems you needed this break more than me, horny lizard.” You muttered, running your fingers through his hair. “Is that an invitation to go again?” He asked, smirking down at you. You shook your head. “I’d pass out before you’d finish, I’d much rather stay like this for a while, instead.” You pressed your lips against his forehead, smiling softly. “Besides, we both know you like it when I wash your hair.” You replied, shifting to a more comfortable position and pushing him on his back. He fell back against the pillows and chuckled softly as he wrapped his arms around you. After a while of staying still on his lap, he finally pulled out, watching his cum dribble from your spent hole. You whined at the loss of contact, before he picked you up and slowly carried you to the bathroom. He ran the water warm, just the way you liked it, before slowly getting in. You hummed happily as he kissed you, running his hands over your skin. He grabbed the soap from beside the bath and wrapped his tail around your waist to keep you steady as he lathered the soap on your body. He took extra care when he got to your chest and your thighs, retracting his claws to make sure he didn’t accidentally scratch you on the sensitive parts of your body. You sighed deeply as he hummed a tune long since forgotten by time, his deep baritone voice calming you and further bringing you down from the euphoria. He grabbed the shampoo and put it in your hair, starting to move on to his hair when he felt your nails scratching against his scalp. You slowly massaged the shampoo into his hair as he rested his head against your chest. You felt him unwrap his tail from your waist, and pressed a gentle kiss against his forehead as he rested his tail on your lap. “Just rest, honey, I’ve got this.” you whispered, knowing how exhausted he was after such a long night. You slowly started washing his tail, lathering his scales with soap before moving on to massage his back. You rolled your palms against the muscles that were potentially sore or strained, making sure to ease the knots in his shoulders and his back. You heard him hum softly, his tail thumping against your lap as a result of your soothing touch. You giggled softly. “You like that?” you asked, watching as he nodded. You gently tapped his large golden horns, as if to tell him to lower his head. He lowered his head to where you could wash his horns, huffing quietly when you told him the two of you had to get out of the bath soon. “Five more minutes.” he grumbled, wrapping his arms around you. “We still have to change the bedsheets, ‘li.” you muttered, causing him to sigh. “Ok.” he mumbled back, slowly getting up out of the bath and grabbing some towels from the linen closet. He returned a few minutes later with some towels, saying that he’d changed the sheets. You smiled, slowly standing with his help as he dried you off and carried you to bed after draining the tub. He then got under the covers with you and rested his head against your chest.

By the time you looked back at him, he was looking up at you with half lidded eyes as his tail wrapped around your leg. “Are you cold, dearest?” you asked, causing him to shake his head. “I just want you close to me.” he mumbled sleepily, leaning up and pressing his lips against yours. He flipped the two of you over to where you were resting your head against his chest, your weight grounding him as his eyelids got heavier with exhaustion. He wrapped his arms around you and held you close. “I love you.” he whispered, nuzzling his nose against your neck and breathing in your scent as he fell asleep. You smiled softly, closing your eyes as you spoke. “I love you, too.” you whispered, falling asleep in his comforting arms.

[onyourowndaisymae]

unicorn bandages - alt. version

this has been sitting in my drafts awhile. someone requested some lucifer hurt/comfort (that i haven't got around to yet) and i wrote this, only to realize this didn't exactly hit the mark when i finished. but i figured it's cute, so i might as well post it

word count: 1145

content + warnings: playful/smartass lucifer, general fluff, minor physical injury, general mentions of embarrassment

you need to learn to be more careful.

that's what you think as you walk the rest of the way home to the house of lamentation, lost in your own thoughts. the gentle searing pain of your skinned knee was enough of a punishment-- did you brain have to keep replaying the memory of you tripping in the middle of town, too? being clumsy and wearing shorts were both incompatible with your plans today, yet here you are, looking foolish and feeling exposed from your mistake.

the blood had long since dried against your skin. you felt sticky and gross, yearning now for a shower and a place to hide from your lingering embarrassment. did anyone from RAD see you eat shit outside that shop. ugh, and they way nobody helped you up, how you awkwardly stumbled to your feet and-- ahhh!! please, no more!!

the familiar creak of the front doors announced your arrival to the house of lamentation. you shuffled inside awkwardly, head hung, staring at your feet to avoid another tumble. even the book you bought on your day out couldn't console you enough to block out the invisible judgement you felt.

"what is that?"

you lifted your head to find lucifer stopped in the archway to the living room, eyes narrowed at you.

"huh?"

"what is that?" he repeated. "what happened to your knee?"

"oh. i, uh, i fell on my way home and scraped my knee. i don't-- i'm fine. it's just a scrape."

you felt the urge to shy away from his stern gaze, to hide your little scrape from his prying eyes and pretend it never happened. he looks at the wound for a few moments longer before meeting your eyes.

"will you sit down on the stairs for a moment, mc?"

"it's not that big of a deal. it just need to be wiped off, nothing special."

"then surely you'd be okay with me cleaning it for you? since it's such a minor injury."

you couldn't think of much else to argue. he gave you that smug half-smirk he saved for minor victories such as this and disappeared from sight. you shuffled to the stairs and sat, slumped in defeat, as he presumably went to fetch some first aid supplies.

the avatar of pride returned as quickly as he left, this time with a small black box in his hands. a small gesture of his hands urged you to stretch the injured leg out to give him better access. gloved hands busied themselves digging through unidentified supplies.

"what happened?" he asks, quietly, as he pulls out what looks like a cotton pad and some sort of cleaning agent.

"i was... i went out to get this book satan recommended. y'know, because he always wants to talk about what he's reading." he nodded and you continued. "so i decided to grab it while i was out. apparently there's a hole in the sidewalk out front, because as i was walking out, my foot got caught and i-- ow!"

your cry of pain was almost indignant as lucifer interrupted your story by cleaning the wound. the sharp sting of something akin to but not quite isopropyl alcohol lit your knee on fire. had the scrape really been that bad?

"the bacteria in the devildom is a bit more aggressive than in the human realm," he explained, softer look on his face than a moment ago. "we wouldn't want our favorite human getting sick from an accident like this, would we?"

as if he was trying to apologize, lucifer brought your knee closer by the back of your leg and gently blew on the wound to alleviate some of the pain of the cleanser currently working its magic. it was nice. for a moment, he was lucifer, big brother, not the avatar of pride he embodied in public. his fingers fiddled with pulling and stretching your skin to ensure each inch was properly wiped clean. there was a certain level of sincerity to his movements that made you smile.

"did you do this a lot when your brothers were growing up?"

"you have no idea."

that makes you laugh. he smiles, just a little, before continuing.

"angels are supposed to be resilient. their skin is thicker than a human being's, so they shouldn't get hurt as easily. and yet training my younger brothers was-- well, it was quite the event."

"i'm gonna guess mammon was the biggest pain?"

"definitely mammon." a fond smile. he wiped a cotton pad across your busted knee before continuing. "every time i saw him, he was always covered in bruises and scrapes. i could never quite get him to admit that he'd got them wandering off in pursuit of his younger brothers."

"that sounds a lot like him."

lucifer picked up a small tin containing the bandages. these must have been picked out by asmodeus-- instead of the usual plain design lucifer always grabbed, these were bright and colorful with unicorn designs. the avatar of pride only offered a small sigh before pulling an adequately sized one out and applying for you. in a few moments, what was a terribly embarrassing memory had been sealed from the world behind two unicorns hopping in unison over a rainbow.

"aren't you going to kiss it better?"

your sarcastic question was followed by your mischievous little smirk. maybe you shouldn't have teased him while he was in such a good mood. his eyes narrowed a bit before, to your surprise, his smirk mirrored your own.

you open your mouth to play off your joke, but lucifer's already lifting your knee to his mouth. your whole body is sliding uncomfortably off the stair step-- karma sure is efficient-- as his lips hover above your knee. lucifer's lips brush the top of your bandage. he makes an obnoxious kissing sound to honor your request before unceremoniously dropping your leg, leaving you sprawled in an odd position on the steps.

"i was kidding," you whine.

"my apologies. i just wanted to make sure you healed correctly."

"yeah, yeah, whatever you say."

the avatar of pride is quick to repack the first aid kit and rise to his feet. you reach out for his hand to help you up. in a bout of playfulness, he instead high fives your open palm, small smirk dripping with sarcasm. of course you had to catch him in a good mood. you sigh dramatically. this time, his offer to help you stand was genuine. a quick tug of your hand and lucifer had quickly pulled your fragile human body off the steps.

"careful, mc. wouldn't want you to fall again."

"i think you'd enjoy it, actually. sadist."

"... you're probably right."

"huh?!"

your cry is indignant as he begins to exit. you chase after him without hesitation. that smirk on his face meant he was joking, right?

[dreamrk99]

In another life : mark lee 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ preview

“In another life me and you would be married “

Cw : crying and unprotected sex

This is genuinely are draft to a story i wrote months ago about mark I decide to post it idk if I’ll ever drop the full version

My lips gently grazed his as I looked down at him from his lap. The view was breathtaking as he looked up at me. His lips spit-slicked, and his eyes droopy and filled with love. My bare torso against his before I wrapped my arms around his broad shoulders, my hips being held in place by his ring-clad hands. I let out a soft gasp as I felt his hands guiding my hips so beautifully. Our skin met every time I took a deep breath. "I love you." I sang. Every time my heat tightened around him, feeling his hands make their way to my face. Tears ran down my cheeks.

He kissed the tears away before whispering confessions of love in my ear. He let out the most sensual sound as he emptied himself between my thighs.

"Do you love me ?" I asked, and my faded lipstick smeared on his glossy lips. "I breathe for you," he spoke before pressing kisses to my chest longly, staining it with the faded rouge."Please." I gasped as I ran my fingers through his overgrown black hair. He could only hum as I pulled his head up from my nipples and kissed him lovingly. I kissed him like I was going to die tomorrow. There was nothing I wanted more than to stay in his arms forever, but I knew I couldn't

[ghcstao3]

If I were to portray someone unbelievably pathetic and without any hope, would you give me another part of your #anyway mildly supernatural au?

I'll get down on my knees and pray to any god you want.

Just please give me more please.

do not even Fret i would have written more for absolutely nothing in return anyway because i just love writing AUs so much (if you could not already tell)

fun fact this is version 2.0 of what i wanted to write because tumblr didn’t save a draft and i lost everything 🫶 not edited

-

So much and so little time feel like they’ve passed simultaneously as John waits out the rain with Simon—and oddly enough, not once has he seen the bottom of his styrofoam cup of coffee in spite of the plentiful sips he’s certain he’s taken.

In any case.

He and Simon chat aimlessly to fill the minutes, hours, whatever it’s been—something just beyond small talk, though not by much. Not until Simon decides to face John with a rather puzzling question.

“So, then, what brings you here?”

John furrows his brow. “My car broke down,” he says slowly. He can’t help the confusion and tinge of curiosity that melt into his voice, nor can he help wondering why Simon would ask for an answer he already knows.

Yet Simon shakes his head. “No—what brings you here?”

A frown tugs at John’s lips, his eyebrows drawing ever closer. “Dinnae ken.” He shrugs helplessly, tries a different reply, “A road trip?”

Simon hums only as acknowledgment. It’s clear in the way he narrows his eyes and scrutinizes John’s face that it’s still not the answer he’s looking for.

“You’re lost,” Simon concludes.

John scoffs. “Am no’!” He exclaims, frustration laced in his tone as he folds his arms almost defensively across his chest. “I was followin’ a GPS!”

“You are,” Simon insists. “Just not in the way you think.”

With a huff, John drops his arms, instead reaching to curl his fingers back around the still-warm cup of coffee. His frown deepens. “How do you mean?”

Simon tilts his head, gaze ever-analytic. “You’re lucky,” he replies cryptically. “Or unlucky, depending on how you choose to look at it. Not many humans manage to get here.”

Now John is beyond confused. Of course, Simon had been all sorts of vague and avoidant throughout their interactions, but this? John is beginning to think this man might not be all… there.

“Human…?” John swallows. He shifts his weight between weary feet. “Why would I be anything but?”

Simon takes a step away from the counter, rounds past John only to stop at the large window looking out into a small, crumbling lot and the forest beyond the road, all blurred by heavy rain. John realizes with a start that he hadn’t really seen Simon move before that—hadn’t seen deliberate steps, the way he almost glides across the space; graceful, soundless.

It’s almost—dare John say—supernatural.

“Well, you see, Johnny,” Simon says with a mild air of amusement, and John has barely any time to process that Simon knows his name despite it never having been given as he continues, “there’s often a lot more than meets the eye in this world we live in. It just appears you’ve looked in the right place for once.”

“I don’t understand.”

Simon turns back to him, then, the glint in his eyes that same hint of unnatural as his movements. They flash, a glare almost like that of a cat’s in the dark of night.

“I don’t expect you to.”

Simon looks away from John again, a broad figure against the pale grey light that filters inside. John’s heart stutters even as he willingly brings himself closer to Simon.

“The rain will stop soon,” Simon states disinterestedly. It hardly appears like the storm would let up any time soon—the sky is still stained with dark and angry clouds—but Simon says it with such unimpressed, unwavering confidence that John thinks he may as well believe him.

“Will it?” John challenges anyway.

Simon shrugs. “Not unless you don’t want it to.”

John huffs out a quiet laugh. As strange as Simon and everything he’s said is, and as much as John has questioned everything else, he decides he’ll humour the man.

“Maybe just a bit longer, then.”

After all, John hasn’t hated lingering in the store. No harm in indulging in such silly thoughts as controlling the weather.

Simon nods. The corners of his eyes pull upward as if he’s smiling beneath the mask he’s still refused to remove. Briefly, John wonders what other things Simon may be hiding beneath it.

Simon concurs, “Then so it is.”

[boobearymuch]

Revisiting Vices

Summary: You thought you knew Leon pretty well by now, but finding him on the balcony tonight with a cigarette in hand had you thinking – wow, maybe you didn’t. Tags: Leon S. Kennedy/gn!reader, light angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, insomnia, sex is mentioned (very very briefly), smoking, cigarettes, Leon S. Kennedy needs a hug Word Count: 1.4k Read on AO3

Notes: ao3 shutting down traumatized me enough to get over my fear of posting fics on tumblr 💀 enjoyy <3

It’s never bothered you – the way Leon’s insomnia seems to have bled into your own nighttime routine. Ever since his return from Spain – a trip he refused to discuss – the occasional bouts of insomnia have turned into a far more persistent beast. There was only so much you could do for him, only so much he would allow you to do for him – if only he could just open up. You thought you knew Leon pretty well by now, but finding him on the balcony tonight with a cigarette in hand had you thinking – wow, maybe you didn’t. 

“Those things will kill you, you know.” You’re trying to tease, but it comes out half-hearted. Something is wrong. He used to smoke, but quit after being drafted into that top secret government program of his. You’re not sure when or how he got his hands on a pack of smokes, but something about the way he fiddled with the cigarette told you this wasn’t his first one of the night. Leon gives you a weak laugh, a light huff of air that smelled of the cigarette’s musk.

“I’ll be back in bed soon. Get some rest.” You lean against the railing to watch him, much to his disappointment. He stares down at his hands, then you. “Are you mad?”

You shake your head softly. “Do you wanna talk?” Of course, he didn’t. You knew that. It’s why he sneaks off in the night to seek comfort in nicotine instead. Leon hangs his head and takes a drag. He does it so well, like he never quit at all. You can’t help but picture a younger version of Leon doing the same. Perhaps he smoked with other recruits during his police training; a young rookie who would rather cough and splutter than admit he couldn’t keep up with the tar. 

“Not really ready to.” Leon admitted gently, “Sorry.” 

“It’s okay.” You wrap your arms around yourself and decide to face the street instead. You just didn’t want him to be alone right now. Leon had a nasty habit of getting stuck inside his own thoughts, which made the insomnia worse. Silence fell between the two of you – comfortable and long – as he smoked. You didn’t check the time before rushing to find Leon, but it had to have been early morning based on the quiet street below. A pair of pale blue eyes calmly watched you survey the stars above, or what little could be seen through the light pollution. 

“I used to live near a casino as a kid.” Leon’s words cut through the night air, and you nearly jolted from his sudden – albeit quiet – declaration. His voice came out hushed, as if afraid of disturbing the city’s peaceful night. “About thirty minutes away from our house. We went all the time. Not to gamble, of course – I was too small for that. My family liked going to the buffet.” His cigarette tapped against the railing, shaking off the excess. “I hated going. You couldn’t escape the smell of cigarettes.” You watched the end of Leon’s mouth flick up into a tired smile that never reached his eyes. “But the chocolate cake was the best there.”

Leon worries you sometimes. Just as he begins to pull away, he’d catch himself, and somehow reel you both back in. The story about the casino almost felt like an apology somehow. Like he was saying, I’m sorry I can’t tell you everything yet, but here is what I’m willing to share. “You think all chocolate cake is the best.” You whisper back. Leon shakes his head, your response genuinely making him smile.

“I have standards, you know.” You hum lightly, feigning disbelief, and silence prevails again.

Maybe on another night he would have stayed in bed; it wasn’t unusual to wake up to gentle tugs as Leon played with the hem of your sleep shirt, staring off into the darkness. On nights like those, he didn’t like talking either. Instead, he’d feign some half-hearted apology for waking you – but you both knew he meant to – before softly sliding his hand up your shirt. The sex took his mind off of whatever haunted memory came to plague his thoughts in the cruel hours of the night when sleep eluded him. He’d mewl soft thank you’s into your neck, fist your shirt like your flush bodies weren’t nearly as close as he needed you to be. 

After, you’d run a shaky hand through his tousled hair and refuse to sleep yourself until Leon’s breath evened out into a light snore. To you, there wasn’t a sweeter sound in this world that could compete. And no sweeter sight than the blush across his cheekbones the next morning when you teased him for drooling on your shirt. Perhaps he felt guilty for waking you like that so often. Maybe that’s why cigarettes have taken your place tonight. 

Another cloud of smoke fills the night air as Leon exhales, this one shakier than his last. “You don’t have to stay out here, you know.” Leon isn’t looking at you when he says this, “One of us should get a good night’s sleep, at least.” He then huffs out a mirthless laugh, “Fuck, I feel like I’m giving you second-hand insomnia at this point.” You bite your lip to hold back a stupid grin, but Leon frowns at you, “That wasn’t meant to be a pun.”

“You’re a natural.”

“I’m serious.” He insists.

A hum leaves you. “I am too. I’m out here because I want to be.” You gravitate to him without meaning to, your hand landing on his arm like a satellite pulled into orbit. His sullen eyes drop to the contact and stay there, “You don’t have to do this alone.” Your thumb gently glides across his moonlit skin, “And as long as I’m here, you won’t have to, got that?” 

You don’t mind reminding Leon of this every so often. You’d repeat it a thousand more times if you had to, and you might. There’s a heavy pause after your statement as Leon watches your hands. You understood that he was worried, but losing a few hours of sleep to give him company – peace – was well worth it. An ambulance siren starts up somewhere in the distance, and he finally nods in defeat. “Okay.” 

“Okay,” You repeat and let go of his arm, “Glad we settled that.” He curiously watches you step away to press your back against the railing, content with yourself. “You know, some chairs would be nice out here. I’m always thinking that, but I dunno, what do you think?”

You thought he didn’t hear you at first with how long it took him to finally respond to your dumb ramble. “Yeah,” He breathes out, and you hum comfortably. You’re about to suggest a shopping trip in the afternoon when a sudden pair of arms are pulling you to the side. The world spins when Leon’s warm lips find yours, kissing you like your skin holds all the answers to his desperate questions. And you don’t mind that his mouth tastes like cigarettes and unspoken horrors. You welcome his touch, his tongue, his broken gasps; you welcome all of him as he is. When he pulls away, his eyes are still closed, but your own trace every inch of his tired face. You wished he’d let you in on what’s going on in his head tonight. If you could ease his pain – just for a bit – it’s all you could ask for. Leon will come to you on his own terms though; it wasn’t anything personal. It takes courage to face the monstrosities of this world, but even more to talk about them. 

You only noticed he extinguished his cigarette when both his hands rose to trace your jawline. “Are you ready for bed?” He asks breathlessly.

“Only if you’re coming with me.” You murmur back.

“Yeah,” He sighs, thumbing your cheek, “I think I’m ready.” 

It occurred to you, in the early rays of morning sun, that maybe Leon couldn’t sleep because he was scared to. Maybe stewing in his own thoughts for hours on end fared him better than whatever horrors awaited in his dreams. But in the glow of morning light, Leon slept so soundly, so quietly. Your hand came up to softly brush a stray piece of blonde hair away from his cheek; what were you dreaming of, Leon? What keeps you up at night? 

You’ll never know for sure, but maybe you didn’t need to.

[kaylinalexanderbooks]

Friday Kiss

Thanks @mysticstarlightduck for the tag!

Rules: post an excerpt with a kiss of any kind!

So I've posted the only kiss in TSP Draft Five. I also posted on from IWAJAD and another from a version SOTL. So... I don't have a lot of kissing. Here's a little something from Draft Four of TSP though.

From The Secret Portal Part Three (old draft) (Ewan POV) (I've decided to cut his pov this is so weird)

“When I asked you to move in with me,” I continued, “into this house, I did it because…” I closed my eyes, gathering courage, “I did it because… I love you, Jazlyn.” I heard a soft gasp come from Jazlyn’s lips. “I love you so much,” I said, finding more bravery now that it was already said, “more than anything in the world. And… if you don’t feel the same, I guess--” She pressed her lips against mine. I stumbled back a tad, eyes wide, before leaning in myself, holding the back of her head, clutching her hair. She wrapped her arms around me, I did the same. We stumbled into the dining room table. “Careful of the candles,” I murmured between us pulling our lips apart only for gasps of air. Carefully avoiding the candles so as to not burn the house down, the furniture, or ourselves, though Jazlyn would likely be fine, we made it down the hallway to my room. Jazlyn turned the handle, awkwardly twisting it as she was not facing the door, but me, and we entered the room. I kicked the door closed behind me, silently grateful that my bedroom had no windows that needed to be shut. We kicked our shoes off, lips still barely parting from each other’s. We fell on the bed, adrenaline racing, as our bodies sank into each other, and we refused to let each other go.

Eh I'm not proud of this but whatever.

Tagging uh @winterandwords @willtheweaver @drchenquill @ohnomybreadsticks @chauceryfairytales

+ ANYONE ELSE

TSP intro

TSP tag list (ask to be +/-): @thepeculiarbird @illarian-rambling @televisionjester @finchwrites

@nebula--nix @literarynecromancy @honeybewrites

[angel-shaw]

First draft of my Magnus Archive Fic!

This is the first “chapter” of my first TMA fic:) I am still working on it and I haven’t edited this at all yet but I really want some input and praise:3

I started this fic off of a dream that my TMA obsessed bf begged me to wright. I haven’t reached the main part that I am super excited about yet so expect more! For those who read this let me know if I should post this as a multi chapter fic and post this rn to Ao3 or if I should wait till I am done with it:)

Summary - Tim and John are trapped in a concrete room inside the Achrives, Nether knows what happened or how to get out so they have no choice but to sit in their together. (Takes place after season 1 and definitely before season 3, might make it so Sasha is fine because I can )

Currently at 8016 words:)

Tw: being trapped, paranoia, etc kinda stuff (lemme know if more needs to be tagged :). )

“Tim,” John said, shaking his counterpart.

“Tim you need to wake up, food is ready and you need to eat it hot.”

Underneath several thick blankets John heard heard tim mumble something along the lines of

‘I’m cold, fuck off.’

John sighed.

“I know your cold Tim but the warm food will help with that, please i don't want to fight you on this every time.”

The blankets shuffled quickly and John flinched back as Tim pulled the blankets down from his, very tired looking, face.

“Then don't! Leave me be! Why do you even care John? It's not like anything can be done about this so why not do what you've always done and either leave me alone or go speculate about whether or not I'm some possessed version of myself who will randomly decide to try and kill you for some obscure reason only you understand in a corner?!”

John stood frozen for a few seconds as Tim glared at him. When Tim started to shiver despite the blankets it snapped John out of his stupor. Instead of responding he instead held a hot bowl of soup out for Tim to take.

“This should help,” John whispered as Tim frowned.

It took a minute but Tim shifted to prop himself against the wall and took the bowl.

John took his own bowl and sat a little ways away from Tim as they both ate in silence.

This was their routine, minus Tims outburst normally. For the last 2 weeks Tim and John have been trapped in this room. It reminded John of the archival room without the shelves and boxes of statements. A stone room with no windows and only one door. John couldn't even remember how he and Tim had gotten there. He couldn't explain why they were stuck in there and even less of a clue where the food and resources came from. It felt like some kind of thing fucking with them. Giving them what they need to survive but not to get out.

At first he and Tim argued a lot, both scared and confused. Johns added paranoia didn't help that ether and seeing as how they were stuck together now 24/7 they had plenty of time to fight. That was until Tim started to get sick, it was so easy for John to notice the change. Tim started to shiver, at times John could even hear his teeth chattering. He stopped moving around the room and just stayed curled up under his blanket. One night John had waited till Tim had fallen asleep and threw his own blanket on top of Tims shivering form. The days following John had asked Tim if he was alright but was met with hostility. And that's how it had been the past week and a half. When Tim stopped eating John took it upon himself to make sure Tim had food to eat. He noticed when he ate Tim stopped shivering for a time so he made sure there was almost always a hot food for Tim to have when he started to violently shiver.

John and Tim rarely talked because it seemed it could only lead to another fight. So the silence the two fell into well eating no longer felt awkward.

When Tim placed his bowl down onto the stone floor he immediately withdrew into the two blankets.

“Do you want more?”

A muffled mumble.

Because John couldn't hear him he decided to move closer. He scooted up to the blanket and leaned down.

“What was that?’’

The entire blanket flinched and before he knew it a flash a pain shot through his nose. John flinched back and cried out, bringing his hands up to his face.

John's eyes were shut tight and he could feel the tears welling up behind his eyelids. He was too preoccupied feeling a hot wet liquid start to run down his hands and wrists to notice Tim and sat up and threw the blankets off of himself.

“Oh holy shit! John, I didn't realize you got so close. What the hell where you doing?! Shit are you ok? Oh holy fuck thats alot of blood. Shit shit SHIT! Here uhh just, just stay here. I'll go and find something, oh fucking hell theres so much blood’” Tims rant could barely be heard by John who was still sitting in shock and pain.

A few seconds later John felt Tims strong hands envelope his own, distantly he could hear Tims voice. It sounded…calmer than usual? No, not calmer… nicer.

“John come on, lemme see.”

John could feel his head shake, there weren't any real thoughts going through his mind really so he didn't know why.

“Hey come on, I kinda know how to fix it….a little…I won't make it worse at least.”

John felt his head shake harder. He really needed to stop doing that. It made his head hurt and him feel dizzy.

“Come on John, please let me help.”

Finally John let Tim pull his hands down, his eyes still shut tight and still in an immense amount of pain.

“Shit…Ok here,” Tim's voice was quiet as he started wiping around the nose, clearing some of the blood before holding it to John's face firmly.

“See that's not too bad right? We got this…no problem.”

Tim took a deep breath, “Ok John can you hear me?”

Again John could distantly feel himself nod, nothing felt real.

“Good, good. Ok so this next bit is gonna sting like a bitch right? It will be over quick though ok? Can I?”

Another nod, what was he even agreeing to?

And then the grasp on the cloth over his nose became much firmer before there was a loud crack and a fresh wave of pain with an overwhelming nausea flowing through him.

“Fuck!”

He could hear a lot clearer now, so much so that he could hear the hiss of Tim sucking air through his teeth.

“See,” Tim meekly tried, “Wasn't too bad ay?”

John finally opened his eyes, he could still feel how wet they were and to his displeasure he could feel that wetness stream down his face. Tim was still sat in front of him holding his nose with a weird look on his face.

It was a look John couldn't quite place, he had never been the best at reading people. Somehow always coming to the seemingly worst concussion possible.

“You ok John?”

Tims voice was quite soft, it was something John had noticed. Whenever Tim spoke to others, others like the random people who visited the archive or the food attendees at the outings he was forced to go on. He would question why talking to Tim made those people feel better, or at least good judging by their smiles. Now that that softness was directed at him he understood why those peoples smiles got bigger. He wanted Tim to keep talking to him like that.

“John?”

John looked up at Tim, still in shock from Tim REBREAKING HIS NOSE.

“Did you just break my nose..?”

Tim shifted uncomfortably, “Ya I'm sorry, I had to set it so it won't heal wrong…”

“That really hurt, like a lot….It still really hurts”

“Here just hold the cloth to it for now and the bleeding should stop soon, plus the pressure might help with the pain. It's what i did when i broke my nose”

John stared at Tim increadisully but talking moved his nose and made it hurt more so he decided to stay quiet.

Until he looked down and saw how much blood there was everywhere.

—----------

Tim watched as he saw John's breathing get faster, his eyes were huge as he looked at his hands and arms. The blood was still wet and dripping down his arms to the stone floor.

“John?”

No response from him, John didn't even look up at him.

“Jonathan, man are you ok?”

Again, no response. Faster breathing, it was starting to freak Tim out. Was John having a panic attack? Sure Tim had seen plenty, hell just working at the Archive meant a lot of people who were giving statements had a lot of them. John though, he was always so…well not really confident but he held himself in a way that made him seem untouchable.

Tim had seen him with his paranoia but it was never like this, he was always looking for a way to fix whatever he was paranoid about, even if he was bluntly wrong and being stupid. This…this was so different. John was panicking, worse than the panic Tim had seen during the Worm incident. Why was a broken nose worse than a worm burrowing itself into his skin?????

“John!”

Nothing.

“John, look at me.”

Tim was still holding the cloth, John had never reached his hands back up to take it himself. He was too busy…working himself into a panic attack???

Tim used that to his advantage, he tilted John's head up until his eyes shot to him.

“It's ok, you're ok. Nothing really happened right? You're all good. The pain will go away soon, you just need to breathe.”

John shook his head and looked back down at his hands.

“Is…is it the blood freaking you out?”

John didn't reply but as Tim contoured to follow his eyes he was pretty sure he was right.

“Shit ok, umm here, John.. John!”

John startled to look back up at Tim, he really did look panicked. Shit….

“Look John, just close your eyes ok? I'll take care of it. Come on, just close them. I'm not going anywhere…it's not like i can really, But I swear i'll take care of it”

John finally squeezed his eyes shut again, his breathing was still way too fast but it seemed like he was trying to calm that down so that was good.

Tim wasn't quite sure what to do after that. Now that he knew what the major problem was he should try to fix it right? But he was still holding on to John's nose so he couldn't go to the sink to get anything to help so what the hell was he going to do?

It was really cold out from his blankets, not as cold as before but still. He might fight John on it but the warm food really did help. John was so confusing, one day he was acting like Tim would snap and go on a random killing spree and now he was…trying to help him? It didn't make any sense.

Then Tim had an idea.

“Hey John, can you stand up?”

John nodded his head slowly.

“Ok good, well I need you to stand, I'll be right here k? You don't have to open your eyes, i'll lead you where we need to go.”

John nodded again. It took another moment for John to try to start standing, he almost fell and grabbed onto tims arms to stabilize himself.

Shit he has a weak ass grip-

“Hay it's alright,” Tim said quietly, “You can hold onto me.”

John's hands somehow ended up on Tims side as he stood, the two of them stood there letting balance be regained before struggling to move around the room.

—-----------

It was hard to stay standing with his legs shaking but he could feel Tims free hand helping to hold him up as they shuffled somewhere.

Where were they going? It couldn't be far of course, the two had stuck in this one room for what felt like so long now. Unless Tim had been lying and he had known a way out this entire time. What if all this was a plan?

No he was being unreasonable, he knew Tim. Tim wouldn't.

Before he could think anymore on it he heard tims muffled voice again.

“Ok I'm gonna lean you again here kk? Just lean here and I'll clean you up.”

John just nodded again.

See? He thought to himself. Tims good, Tim wouldn't lie like that. As prickly as he had been he hadn't done anything wrong and he was stuck here too.

Jonathan had always struggled with paranoia, he always needed someone or something to blame for everything. Even if it was himself that at least gave it a reason to happen, it gave an explanation he could wrap his head around. But when something he didn't understand or explain happened he always tried to reasonably put the blame onto someone. That someone just tends to be who else was with him. Even hard evidence against his accusation did little to rest his mind.

It had gotten worse over the years, working at the institute had started to help. Sure the stuff he knew was real was terrifying and he wished it were not, hense his dismissal of the cases, but they gave explanations. It gave him an odd sense of calm, knowing that. But the second something happened that he couldn't explain, something that just possibly could have been one of his coworkers, he fell deep into a rabbit hole of mistrust and dishonesty. His pariona got so bad, he knew it affected his coworkers in negative ways, because they told him. Tim expressly got fed up with his actions.

In the time Tim and himself had been stuck John had started to try and think his way through his paranoia. That was hard when his tactic was to blame something and the only thing he could think of at first was the one he was trapped with. But eventually he noticed his parinona of Tim go down. It really started when he noticed how sick Tim had gotten. It sprung something in his mouse brain that it just couldn't be Tims fault, Tim was sick and needed help. It started to override his paranoia.

At least of Tim. Everything else though was fair game. The vent? Something was in it. The wall? More worms.

There were multiple nights where John stayed up and checked every coroner of the room for something, anything. But night after night he found nothing.

Now everytime he had some paranoid thought about Tim it seemed so much easier to work through it. It was a nice change, being able to work through it.

And now Tim was running warm water and slowly wiping John's own blood off of him. Honestly John was surprised Tim didn't just leave him sitting there on the floor in his own panic bubble. But distantly, he knew Tim wouldn't do that, couldn't. Tim was so kind, even when they yelled at each other Tims concern for John seemed so obvious. Though the anger and everything, it was still clear Tim was worried about John. Just like he was worried for everyone else.

John could feel the warm cloth down his arm, it was soothing. Tim was still holding his nose, it must have been getting annoying.

So John lifted the arm Tim wasn't currently working on and tried to take the cloth himself. His eyes were still closed but he could swear he heard Tim jump when his hand touched his.

“ i can hold it..,’’ John said quietly. It felt like talking too loudly would break whatever was happening right now. And John didn't want that.

—------------

Tim was in fact shocked when John's hand grabbed his own, he was so focused on trying to get the blood off with only one hand that it caught him off guard.

But he let John hold up the cloth and was finally able to use both hands. John's breathing had evened out a lot, Tim hadn't noticed at first but as he worked he could feel John taking long deep breaths. It was the first time Tim had actually seen John even try to self regulate.

That was one thing about John that pissed Tim off, it always seemed as though he just let his pariona dictate everything. He never even seemed to try and reason anything, just letting the fear take over and start running everything. It was good to know John COULD chill himself out a bit.

Tim continued to wash John’s arm off before rinsing the cloth and continuing. There really was a lot of blood, it was suppressing John hadn't fainted or something. Sure when he stood he was wobbly as all hell but being dizzy was expected.

The two of them stood in silence for a while, Tim at one point lifting John's free hand up to hold the cloth so he could clean the other but it was a comfortable silence.

John's eyes, despite still being closed, looked much more relaxed than just a few minutes prior. Granted the dark circles that came with a broken nose were starting to show, Tim frowned at that even after his nose had healed those bruises would probilly stay there for quite a while. Tim thought about it for a second longer, overall they weren't too much different from John's massive eyebags he had all the time. Given the nights Tim knew he had been staying up just walking around the room muttering to himself.

That was another thing about John Tim noticed, he talked to himself a lot. Not in a creepy way like in movies, ok well sometimes, but mostly it felt like he was just trying to think. Like just saying his thought process out to make sure it sounded right. There was once he had heard one of John's tangests when he thought he alone and John had said something, stopped and said “well that didn't make sense” it was quite funny. Probably would have been funnier if Tim hadn't been so upset with him at the time.

Only when John's arms were clean did Tim break the silence.

“Here John, your arms are clean. Lemme see if the bleeding stopped.”

John still didn't say anything, just wincing as Tim pulled the bloody rag away from his face.

Tim winced, “Ya…no keep that there im gonna get some toilet paper.”

As he walked away Tim heard John mutter something under his breath so he wheeled himself around on his heel. He felt himself getting angry, he was trying to help him and John was still making comments and shit?? God this was why he stopped respecting him, all his damn paranoia and bullshit.

“What.” It wasn't really a question, whatever John’s answer he wasn’t going to like it. So technically it could be considered a trap.

John of course didn’t notice the massive shift in Tims face as his eyes were closed, but he did hear the change in his voice.

“Thank you, I said, this hurts, a surprising amount actually. I don’t think I’d know what to do if you weren’t helping me….so thank you”

For once, for once in the entire damn time Tim had known him, John said something right.

Tim immediately felt stupid for getting mad so quickly. He might not understand what the hell John’s switch up was about but it pissed him off.

“Right.”

Even if he was wrong he was still annoyed, none of this made sense, if anything John suddenly tried to help him or whatever this upset him more. Hell the only reason he was helping him right now was because he panicked once he heard the crack of John’s nose.

—-------------

John held his nose until Tims bigger hands pulled his own away. Quickly John felt the wads of toilet paper touch him as Tim tried to shove them up his still bleeding nose.

As it stood, his nose still hurt like hell evidently. So John flinched hard, abruptly pulling back from Tim. Even more unfortunately, the sink he was leaning most of his weight on was not big. So when he flipped back he had thrown his weight into….well nothing.

All the shit people said about falling in slow motion, was in fact just that, shit. John didn't have any time to process he was even falling before he felt Tims arms wrap around his waist. John by all definition was a small man, he knew that, but when Tims arms were so solidly wrapped completely around his waist he /felt/ small.

“Shit! Fuck I'm sorry are you good? Well obviously not, fucking duh. Shit here, Im just gonna….uhh…I'm gonna get you over on the chair that way you don't rocket yourself on the floor ya?”

Johns face was burning again, strangely not just around his nose, but it must have been from irritating it. He made and tried to help make it at least not a struggle to move him, which was hard considering his legs were not planted on the ground, tangled between Tims.

Somehow Tim was able to move him without ended with both of them on the floor. John's only real thought during the short journey was that Tim didn't radiate heat like most did, he wasn't cold per say but he missed the warmth someone would expect.

“Damn you're warm, you know that?”

“Hmm?”

John was pulled from his thought by Tims comment’ “I think you’re just cold”

Tim sat John down on the wooden chair.

Tim rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, “ nah I think it's you”

John hadn't realized it but he had finally opened his eyes. His own arms weren't covered in blood thanks to Tim. Tims arms however were not so clean. He had been trying to help John stop freaking out and gotten blood, John's blood, all over him.

“Oh shit! Right, you're still bleeding; give me a sec!”

John honestly hadn't noticed his nose still leaking blood down his face until Tim reminded him, he lifted his hand to catch the blood but before his could Tim was back and stopping him.

“Put your damn hand down. I just cleaned your amsnup I don't need you fucking that up already. Ok it looks like I set it ok so it should be good.”

“Ya did hurt a lot by the way”

“Ya I know, I'm sorry. I mean if you would have rather it healed in the wrong place we could have left it but I figured if I just did it then…” Tim trialed off, he had an odd look on his face.

“ No no,that was uh fine. It hurt though. How did you know to do that? I figure it's not something you just picked up from tv….at least I hope not.” John tried to joke, but he really really hoped that Tim didn't just do that just because of a bad tv show.

“Haha ya, I umm, I broke my nose quite a lot as a kid so I learned how to handle it. If I'm being honest I did originally try it because of the show…it was a really bad cop sitcom that I watched all time.”

“You watched sitcoms?” It genuinely caught John off guard, he expected Tim to watch a bunch of horror or something like that.

“There a problem with that?”

“No no of course not, I just… didn't expect it”

—------------------

As they talked Tim noticed that it seemed to draw Johns attention away from his injury. Would he normally talk about stuff like this to him? No of course not, hell if he tried John probably would have had a paranoid delusion about it or something and accuse Tim of being a clone or some shit like that.

But if tim helped keep him calm, and he wasn't going to freak out over it, fine.

He started to clean Johns face as he talked. He tilted John's face back and actually managed to get the paper in his nose without a mass spasm this time.

“Ya, normally it's not my kind of thing but I watched it a lot when I was younger. The….uh..guys I hung out with could tolerate it and it didn't make me cry so it was always on. Heh, I love the show. It's actually pretty funny, not accurate but I get enough action with cops nowadays that I don't need accuracy about ‘em” Tim laughed.

He could see John's smile, Tim distantly thought it would be better without all the blood.

“That's…nice. ,my grandmother wished I would get into a show. It could never keep my attention for long. I was better with books.”

This was weird, this entire thing was weird. John being civil and…nice. The two of them talking casually about things Tim had never told anyone. It wasn't like Tim was telling John everything that was part of it but John now knew more than anyone else and it was so casual. The two of them had been stuck in this place for what, 2 weeks now? And now here the two of them were, talking after Tim had broken his nose.

“Never had the time to read books, I uh, got busy alot so shows where a lot easier you know?”

“That's fair enough.”

Tim finished cleaning John's face and backed up,” there you go, you gonna have raccoon eyes for a while.”

John's head tilted to the side, holy shit he looked like a….a confused puppy.

“Racoon eyes?”

Tim laughed, he couldn't help it, “ ya when you brake your nose for the first time you get bruised around your eyes and they look like the face of a raccoon. It hurts but it looks cool once they heals a bit. I probably still have a picture of me with ‘em somewhere actually.”

John already had the circles forming around his eyes, they were gonna get a lot darker in the next few hours but they should clear up pretty quick.

“I see, well thank you for telling me. I'm sure it would have been quite a nasty shock to see that in the mirror with no warning.”

“Ooooooh ya” Tim laughed’ “ the first time it happened to me the guy who broke my nose had to burst into the bathroom to see why I was sobbing after I saw, God that was a daaaay. Hurt like a bitch.”

Tim saw Johns frown, he obviously saw the problem in Tims word and for a second Tim really thought he was going to ask and he would have to shut the entire conversation down because he fucked it up.

But instead John just kept it going, “ Well I'll try to keep my shock to a minimum to not startle you then.”

Tim smiled.

—------------

John saw the change in Tims demeanor when he had said that, if there was one thing John was good at t was avoiding conversations. Sure he was curious and a little worried but it wasn't any of his business. It was Tims life and childhood, whatever had happened he was fine now so there wasn't any need to push it.

It was then when John saw the blood on Tims shirt. It made Johns chest tighten, that was one of Tims favort shirts, and quite frankly one of the only peaces of clothing's he hadn't the moment well trapped in the room.

“Oh Tim your shirt…”

Tim looked down, apparently also having forgotten he was covered in Johns blood.

“Damn it! Oh fuck that sucks. I don't think I have another shirt clean…”

John had been cleaning what he could and for some reason it seemed that the cloths they put in the laundry basket occasionally got cleaned but it seemed to be at random times and if Tim said he didn't have another he didn't.

“Damn…I liked this shirt to. Ya think I’ll be able to get the blood out?”

Tim was back to rubbing his neck, like it was a nervous habit or something. Most of the blood has dried and because Tim’s shirt was a relatively light color there was little hope for it.

So John shook his head, “I think you got it on your neck…”

“Hmm? How the hell would I have gotten it on my neck??….oh..”

Tim pulled his hand from the back of his neck, and stared at it.

“Fuck.”

“You say that a lot.”

Tim’s eyes snapped back to him. Oh that was the wrong thing to say.

“Ya I do. Ya I fucking do John. You know why? Beacuse for the past two week I’ve been stuck in a freezing fucking room with my boss who suddenly 180ed how he’s acting and that’s fucking confusing. I’m cold all the time and every night I hear you walking around the room muttering to yourself about whatever the fuck you are, you have been insisting on feeding me and ahit when you never cared before. Hell apparently you wanted to feed me so fucking bad I broke your fucking nose and now I’m standing out in the cold open air well cleaning you up and now I have my only shirt covered in blood. I think I’m allowed to swear when all this shit keeps happening,” Tim took a deep breath breath

John was frozen in shock from Tims outburst. Sadly he wasn't done.

“No and you know what John? I have tried so fucking hard to bond with throughout my years working with you and all I was met with was a complete wall and hell later I was met with worse then a wall! All I got from you was distrust and a fucking staucker! We worked together for how many years before you became the head Archivest and you still thought I was some fucking monster! You took pictures of my house and I still was trying to give you grace but at every turn you just proved it was useless. What changed? Why the hell are you trying to be so fucking nice to me now?? I'd love to know!”

John sat silently staring up up at who had began rubbing his arms well pacing. He had no idea what to say, he knew after everything he hadn't treated Tim, or any of his staff really, well. Much less the respect they deserved. Tim had gone though the exact thing John had just with the extra stress of having to run through the tunnels alone. And still John treated him as a threat, he knew Tim and still was so cruel.

Tim had every right to be angry, to be hurt. And after everything he deserved to question John.

“I….I'm sorry Tim. For everything,” before he could continue Tim turned on him again.

“Your /sorry/?! Your sorry that you completely disregarded everyone and pushed all of us to our wits ends. Your sorry for all the nights where we tried to stay late to help you with whatever you thought was going on? The multiple accusations you threw around without a second thought? Your sorry? Are you fucking kidding me John!”

John flinched and looked away from Tim. All the softness and concern drained from his voice and expression.

“Yes…I'm sorry. I…nothing I say will fix it…I was to deep in my own parking and could never stop to think about you all,” John whispered.

He heard Tim scoff but he stayed quite.

“I…thank you for trying so hard Tim…I didn't..don't, deserve any kindness your understanding from you. I know before this all I was not the best ether, I'm sorry for that as well. I can't tell you what changed..I don't even remember when it did. Just after we got locked in here….I was able to stop thinking about you like that. It seems so obvious now that you couldn't, wouldn't have done anything, especially not this. You wouldn't lock me in a room with you, you wouldn't let yourself get sick…you stuck in here too. I saw how you got sick, the least I could do after everything was at least try to help..”

—-------

Tim let his arms drop. He had screamed at John and instead of fighting him, John was apologizing.

He looked so…sad? Remorseful? Guilty?

Good.

He should feel bad, after all the shit he put Tim through.

As John sat there Tim could feel all his anger leave him,it was like a weight off his chest. Without the weight he felt empty, like he had nothing to keep him going. To keep him standing.

God it was cold.

So Tim sat. He looked up at John whose head shot up when he heard something hit the ground. Damn it, he really was worried about him.

He sighed.

“Keep talking,” Tim said as he pulled his knees to his chest and rested his head on them.

“W-what?”

“Just keep talking, I'm…I can't be mad any more John, I'm too tired right now. Anything you want to tell me, tell me now. The quiet is too loud.”

Tim stared at the wall. It hadn't changed at all, still a plain, windowless, slab of cold concrete. He could hear John's breath.

“Right then. I suppose I can do that. When do you want me to start?”

Tims mouth was covered in the curled up position so even to him his words were muffled.

“Don't care”

He cared a little bit, even if he didn't have the energy to be angry he still wanted to know. Granted what John already said was more then he had ever expected to hear. He wanted more, apparently John was going to give it so he would take what he gave.

“Right. Well, you know this part already, after Martin found Gertrude's body I spiraled into a panic trying to figure out what happened. I'm still convinced that someone, or at least something killed her…but I was so far in the panic everyone seemed suspicious, no matter how much evidence I had. I needed something to blame, a reason that wasn't just some random thing killing her in a way she had no chance of stopping. I…I felt I needed to know so I could stop it happening to me. You all were the people closest so I…I blamed you. Even if it didn't make sense.”

Tim knew that, it was obvious to everyone honestly. Everyone except John himself of course, Tim supposed it was good for John to finally realize it to.

“If I'm being honest….I wanted it to be one of you so I could prove to myself that I can't trust people. But..I know it wasn't, you all, you all are good. I don't know how to approach any of you, even before all this. I'm so distant from everyone because I believed everyone was just…plotting. A Lot of the times I was right but I wasn't with you all. You all were genuinely trying to be kind to me and I refused to meet you. I'm sorry again.”

Tim hummed. He understood that train of thought, that everyone was bad and out for themselves. Hell he thought that for the longest time too, it was the only thing that kept him alive for years. He didn't notice when he stopped thinking that, was it when he found the Institute? Meeting Sasha or Martin maybe? He couldn't be sure.

Thankfully John continued after a brief pause. Tim heard the deep breaths he was taking.

“When we first got stuck in here I was still going down my rabbit hole, I don't know when I first was able to stop and think properly again. I think it was when you stopped pacing around the room, strted to hide in the blankets. I knew something was wrong and it….flipped a switch and suddenly I was just able to…trust you.”

Tim lifted his lead and looked at John, who was looking anywhere but him.

“You..you trust me?”

Silence.

Tim thought he was going to backtrack or ignore him but,

“Yes. I trust you Tim”

John finally looked at Tim.

The bruises around John's eyes were starting to darken and Tim couldn't help but start to laugh.

After everything, after Prentiss and all the fucking worms, the servalance tapes, everything. This is what got John to trust him. He decked John in the face not even an hour ago and now he was flat out saying he trusted him!

He could see the confusion on John's face but as his eye crinkled so did the starting bruises and it just looked so ...so funny on John. John who was always so serious and methodical and paranoid looked like he had a painted on bandits mask.

Tims laughter dubbed and he ended up laying back on the hard floor. John to his credit stayed quite as Tim laughed, just as he didn't when he yelled. But that didn't make it any less funny.

“Holy hell John,” Tim barely breathed out between bursts of laughter.

“You, you make no sense!”

—-----------------

Tim was still having with laughter as John processed what was going on.

He had no idea why Tim was laughing. Just a few minutes ago he was angry and yelling but now? Right after John told him he trusted him..did he think John was lying?

If he were less worried about Tims sudden for of laughter he would have given himself the moment to just enjoy the sounds. Later that night he would think about it and realize it was the first time he really heard Tim laugh. Not just he chuckles and short huffs, a real laugh.

When Tim finally called down he stayed laying on the floor. His breathing was loud and felt exaggerated but John didn't say anything.

“You know John, you have the strangest mind.”

More beats of silence

“Do…do you really trust me or are you just fucking with me John?”

Finally John was able to say /something/.

“ When have I ever “fucked with you”? I am of course I do trust you I wouldn't just say that…”

Tim chuckled again, “ it's just odd John, I was so angry at you a bit ago but now, now I just ... .God I don't know.”

John sat there confused and frankly a little concerned.

The both of the sat there, John could feel the tissue in his nose collecting blood and it was weird.

“Hay John…”

John looked at Tim immediately.

“Yes?”

“You're a real prick, you know that?”

Although he was insulting him Tims voice didn't have any anger in it anymore, not as far John could tell. Then again John was shit at telling somehow knew. Not John.

“I..yes I am aware.”

Tim groaned

“ God you sound like one too! Seriously you need to lighten the fuck up and learn how to talk without sounding like a English teacher.”

“I think the way I talk is just fine,” John said defensively. His arms crossed over his chest.

“No, no you really do. I swear you give me flashbacks of falling asleep in 10th grade English. It's crazy,” Tim was still laying on the floor and while John couldn't see it, was smiling.

“Well perhaps the reason you think it's odd is because you were napping while being taught proper language.”

“Na, you're just weird. Also no one just says ‘perhaps’ John. Nobody.”

Tim finally sat back up. He leaned back on his hands and looked at John. He sighed.

“I'm sorry John.”

What? What could you be apologizing for? I-”

“Cuz I just started fuckin yelling at you man. You didn't even do anything and I just blew off on you,” John was about to interrupt but Tim held up his hand.

“I mean I had every right, have, for that matter, to be angry but I just blew up on you when you were probably just trying to mess with me. Fuck I broke your nose and then cleaned you up and then yelled at you! Here I am going on about mixed signals and doing it myself! It wasn't fair. I'm sorry.”

“Um, thank you?”

“Was that a question?”

“I…No?”

“Why are you just asking questions? I'm trying be sincere here man.”

“I know I just, I don't know what to do. I, I am not used to being apologized to..”

“Martin says sorry to you all the time?????”

“Well, ya, but that's ,Martin. He apologizes for everything, even when he's done nothing wrong.”

Tim agreed and laughed a little.

“I suppose that's true. But ya John, I should've, I should've handled it better. Especially cuz I just broke your nose well you were trying to do something nice to me.”

“I did catch you off guard. You can't be fully to blame.”

Tim laughed again. John felt himself smile. He didn't quite understand what was going on or how Tim reacted but he liked that he seemed calmer. He seemed calmed then he had been since the two of them had been trapped. John didn't want to ruin that. Tim deserved a moment of calm.

Then Tim had a full body shiver. It snapped John out of his semi-daze.

“Are you alright?”

“Fuck ya I'm fine,” Tim was rubbing his arms again.

It must have been a trick of the light but John could have sworn Tims lips where blue.

“I'm just a bit cold. Its fucking freezeing in here.”

“You should lay back down, maybe eat some more.”

“Oh shut it. I'm fine. It's just a bit cold. It's not like the floor is helping any though.”

John went to stand up, but when he did it felt like a rush of dizziness and nausea ran though his bones. He quickly sat back down. His eyes squeezed shut trying to stop the room from spinning around him.

“Oh shit, John.”

He felt Tims strong hand on his shoulder holding him up to prevent him was falling forward.

Strong hand? Why was he thinking that. It's just Tims hand.

“Hey, it's ok. Just breath, Itll go away soon.”

John nodded. He reached his hand up to hold Tim's arm he took deep breaths and slowly he could feel the world righting itself around him.

When he finally opened his eyes Tim was right in front of him kneeling on the floor. His arm reached him stabilizing John and the other rested on the chair, just shy of touching him.

Tims eyes were on his, the brown color piercing into Johns.

“You ok there John,” Tims said softly.

His voice was always so smooth, it never sounded bad. Tim was so close to him.

John nodded, he opened his mouth but when nothing came out he closed it again and looked away from Tims concerned eyes.

“You lost a shit ton of blood you know, you really should be more careful. You, of all people, should know about the dizziness man.”

“Right, I was just trying to-”

“Ether way man,” Tim interrupted “You can't be fucking stupid. Come on, I'll help you to lie down.”

“I can walk just fine on my own.”

John was trying but Tim had other plans. He slid his arm under johns and lifted him to his feet. John's head swam as he rose.

“Every time you have tried to walk in the past, however I've been out of my blankets you've almost fallen so I don't wanna hear it.”

Tim walked John over to his pile of blankets. Not Johns little spread but Tims own.

“And before you start bitching about this being my…. pile, I broke your nose and you lost a lot of blood, you need to stay warm. You can use my stuff tonight.”

As Tim sat John down he was able to catch up with what he was saying.

“What about you? I gave you all these because you've been shivering all night.”

“John….have you been watching me sleep.”

It didnt really sound like a question but John answered it anyway.

“Well it's not exactly hard to notice. I uh, I don't sleep a lot. I spend a lot of time trying to find something but I do….check on you occasionally. You shiver a lot so I have been giving you any new blankets that appear. I don't really need them.”

Tim stared at John. He could tell if he was angry or not, he looked almost passive. Well he wasn't holding John any more he could still almost feel a chill coming off of Tim. The little bit of his arms that were exposed were covered in goosebumps.

That's one thing John never understood about Tim, his style. He would wear a lot of more revealing clothes, nothing too scandalous during work but he seemed to be wearing it under his clothes.If John sent him to get information he always came back to the institute…wearing less then when he left. Right now, he was wearing one of his only long sleeves he currently had. The only problem was that his sleeves had holes at the shoulders. The shirt was designed like that. And it's not like it looked /bad/ on Tim, it just defeated the point of wearing long sleeves.

John realized he was staring at Tims shoulders and looked back up at Tims face. They both knew he was cold and before John could start to object Tim did something completely unexpected.

“Ugh fine. I don't want to hear a word from you about this. Got it? You did this yourself and the only reason I'm doing it is because your right about me being cold. Its fucking freezeing in here and it's crazy your not frozen to death with the week ass scratchy piece of cloth that we have been calling a blanket.”

Tim shifted to sit next to John and layed down.

“Well come on, I'm not going to sit with the cold air hitting me for much longer.”

John didn't say anything and lied next to Tim on the thick comforter he had pushed over the concrete floor to protect from the cold. Tim quickly pulled the other 4, yes 4, blankets over the two of them.

“There, now you can't complain.”

John nodded and watched as Tim curled his body so all of it was under the covers, even his head.

—————

Tim felt John shift around for a minute before finally laying still.

The blankets were big enough to cover both of them easily so it wasn’t like they were touching or anything but they were still quite close. He could feel John’s warmth under the blankets, his body heat being trapped in.

Tim had to admit it was really nice, the blankets helped but having John right next to him helped even more with the cold that continued to seep through him. He wished he could have John just fold around his body so he could soak up all his warmth. But that was asking way /way/ too much. He didn’t even ask about this, he just forced John to lay down somewhere that wasn’t on the freezing concrete.

He really did feel bad about snapping at John today. He felt justified in his anger but just because he was justified in it doesn’t mean it was appropriate. Over the past few days John really was just trying to help him, he kept insisting that he eat and he kept giving Tim his blankets.

It was really sweet when he stopped and thought about it, he could take a form of comfort in that. He also took a not so small comfort knowing John was right next to him. He could feel his warmth and feel the blankets shift as he did.

And even though Tim was always cold he usually held one tight against his chest. He just couldn’t sleep without holding something, when he was home he had a stupid stuffed animal that he would hold at night but here he didn’t. Any semblance of comfort Tim useily took part in was gone, for now and the foreseeable future. But he could at least have this for now, even if it was only for tonight.

Maybe he could convince John to sleep like this more. He thought as he curled even more into himself and tried to fall asleep.

That’s for what I thought would be a good chapter 1!

I do have more written and I am continuing to wright it:)

Should I start posting this to Ao3 now or should I wait?

I love feedback and suggestions!

If you want to be tagged when I post about this fic let me know and I’ll try! :)

Thank you so much for reading!

[pascalispinkkkk]

joel miller x reader

word count: 2.5k

Note: This is my first tlou fic. English is not my mother tongue. This is mostly just a mildly edited draft as I wrote it in under a day so I'm sorry lol. I suddenly hyper-fixated on the idea and didn't want it to go anywhere. I'm not a writer so don't expect much loll. I've read a handful of fanfics here and just based this one on how most of them are formatted. I initially wanted it to be an "x male reader" thing, but I decided against it.

Joel x You (GN)

Joel and GN Reader are in an established platonic relationship.

Reader is curiously seeing Joel in a new light.

Tess and Joel were never a 'thing'.

Altered some details so the fic makes sense (kinda).

Some erotic scenes.

Setting: Jackson. After the Firefly Massacre.

"How much truth did you tell Ellie?” You stick your eighth cigarette through the pile of cigar butts on the oak wood table in front of you. Joel stares blankly at the clock across the dimly lit living room. He does not go into detail about what happened in Salt Lake City. You know as he's visibly tense. A deer caught in headlights. He shakes his head dismissively, his face stoic. The usual. You purse your lips as his eyes dart everywhere but you.

You let out a deep and defeated sigh. Joel puts both his hands on his knees. In your mind, that's the first sign he's about to say something. You study him a bit as silence drags on. It's been two days since they came back from Utah. But it doesn't look like he slept even a blink. You decide he needs more rest. So, you nod, partly just to drop it.

Joel uncorks the bottle of whiskey in front of him, filling his glass with yet another shot. He puts it down as his other hand hastily swipes for the glass in sync. "What's your plan?” You press as he throws his head back. He slaps the glass back down as soon as he empties it. You're surprised it does not break.

“I'll stick with the truth,” he finally says after a few beats. His dark brown orbs search yours as he adds "My truth". There's an array of currents that sizzle through your nerves. You recognize it as dismay. But, then warmth crawls through where the currents have been. Because you understand. How could you not? You search his face once more.

It seems like he zoomed through time three years ahead.

Under the pale moonlight, the scars and scabs along his neck and his forehead are visible. His skin is a bit drier. Wrinkles have formed where it used to be smooth. His cheeks have sunken, making his dimples look more visible. You take note of those two bald areas on his greying beard. How can they be in the same spot on each side of his face? You follow the swooping curve of his hooked nose. And then you’re staring at his eyes. Those dark brown orbs you've known for five springs. You reminisce how they’ve gradually softened through the years as he's come to know you. How he almost always talked to you through them. How they haunted you in your dreams for the past four months they weren't around.

Four months. You were left alone for four agonizing months. In Jackson. You insisted you wanted to tag along that morning after the movies. But Joel countered that you stayed. You were badly wounded from the run with Tess and Ellie, he retorted. You were needed here more. Tommy said something about the resources being scarce. It made you sneer. When the dreaded time came, you were left alone at the stables to sulk. Or so you thought. Because Joel walked right back in. He shuffled rather slowly. One foot after the other. He stopped when he was at least a good arm's length from where you were slumped.

"I'll be fine,” he said. "Promise me you will be, too,” there was a long pause. You heard him shuffling again. Before you knew it, he dropped his brown leather jacket beside you. "It's freezing. Wear that when you walk home,” he said in a monotonous voice. Not a word escaped your lips. You could only muster up a meek nod. Wordlessly, Joel started waltzing away. Very Joel, you internally scoffed. You kept your eyes on the leather jacket that he left. Eventually, his footsteps faded out.

In your mind, you ran after him and turn him around to face you. You let the rightful urge within you to make you punch his face repeatedly as you scream every curse word there was. But instead, you pathetically sat where you at. You couldn’t care less about the hay getting in your pants. Or the sudden sharp pain in your right leg. Letting him see this side of yours would be the last thing you'd want, you thought. But deep down, you knew you just didn't have the courage.

And so, after silently crying for a good hour, you aimlessly walked to the house you were assigned to. Feeling a little lost and betrayed. Why—of all muscles around here—does it have to be Joel, you thought. You were anxious about not knowing if they'll make it and when.

In the months that came, however, Tommy and Maria took good care of you. They saw how you had to lock yourself up for days on end as anxiety devastated even the tiniest last bits of your soul in your fingertips. Tommy gave you some linen and antiseptics that could last you several weeks. You insisted you can tend to your own wounds. There was a small window to your kitchen where Maria left the meals she carefully made for you. Most days, they were left there cold. Sometimes, you ate a portion. And then, on the 9th day, you noticed a hideous orange cat trying to pry open the Tupperware Maria had left you.

You named him Wes, anyway. You took him in. But he always hissed at you. He probably thought you were stealing the food Maria was making him. You started giving him some. A chicken wing. Some rabbit legs. Or a portion of your grilled cattle meat. He started warming up to you. And then eventually, you started making food for him. And yourself. The hissing stopped.

On the fourth week, you and he were cozying up on your bed. You figured you liked some warmth as the entire town turned into a tundra and the air became crisper and unforgiving.

Slowly, you came back. Your wounds were fully healed. Tommy had to bust the door open one cold morning. He sat you down beside the kitchen island. The scent of coffee wafted in the air from the mug set in front of you. A fork and bread knife rested beside the plated French toast Tommy made.

“You know Joel,” Tommy said "I know him. They're gonna make it.” But even he can't hide the slightest doubt from his voice. He took a swig from his now half-empty cup. “They’re gonna be fine.” Wes was curled up beneath your feet. You were drawing circles with your toes against his furry neck. "I know,” your voice was hoarse. You were both silent, just listening to the soft music you put on the phonograph. There was a pulse of wariness that started in your chest. But then Wes purred. And the anxiety almost instantly vanished.

“I see the way you look at my old brother,”

Your world stood still. You were thankful that the air was freezing. You hoped that it could somehow explain the sudden gush of heat in your cheeks. You dared to look at Tommy’s eyes. He was looking at his cup, the corners of his lips slightly curled upwards. “I uh…yea—"

“Just be careful,” he finally looked at you. “He uh, he’s been through a lot. He’s tough,” a long, cumbersome pause ensued.

“But that’s not the only reason I'm here,” Tommy’s piercing gaze now made you feel somewhat apprehended. “The town medic needs a hand. Joel mentioned you helped take care of the sick back in QZ,” there was a hint of hope in his voice. He sounded somewhat desperate, too.

“It could…take your mind off of some things for a while,” You gave him a side glance. Your hands trembled from the sudden wisp of cold air coming from the open window. After finishing breakfast, Tommy insisted he’d do the dishes. He talked to you about the offer once more saying, “Think about it,” before he went home.

So, the next day, you met with the town physician.

You went through the remaining months. Depressed. Functioning just because you needed to. Day by day. In the mornings, you went to the clinic. Saw a few patients with the doctor. Went home just as the sky started to take a warmer hue. Made food for you and Wes. Went to bed at night but never really sleeping. Everyday. Every Week. But there was just that one empty spot somewhere in that small thorax of yours. You can’t comprehend how it ached. Why it ached differently. How it turned into an empty limbo as you stared blankly at your tattered bedroom ceiling in the cold evenings. You can’t imagine how many times you’ve drawn Joel’s face along the cracks of that ceiling. Or that stained wall directly across your bed. How, one morning, you imagined that you’ll come down to the kitchen. See him waiting for you to join him at breakfast. What was Joel to you? You asked yourself. What were you to him?

One night, you startled Wes.

You shot straight up from bed, panting frantically. Wes screeched as he bolted out through the crack of your door. You were sweaty, even when the room was freezing. You saw them at the back of your eyelids. Joel’s brown eyes. Burning as they looked into your eyes through his lush eyebrows. He was smirking at you. “Oh, Joel,” you heaved.

You closed your eyes and let your delusions take over. He ran his coarse fingertips up your legs as he planted soft kisses on your neck. He made a wet trail with his tongue from the base of your neck up to the back of your ear. You can smell his sweat. That musky, leathery wood scent that made you squirm every time he walked past you. “Fuck, Joel…”

You finished that night, tired. Your mind was filled with haze. You can certainly feel your sleepiness. But your eyes stayed wide open. What have you done? You thought. Joel. You thought of the years that you’ve known each other. How you've gradually become comfortable but somewhat still uneasy around each other. You remembered the way you follow his every move with your prying gaze when you know he wasn’t looking. Or how you’d catch him looking at you when you turned your head.

You've known love. Now, you're not so sure. Because every man that you've been with throughout the years had never made you feel as clueless as you were with the man that was Joel.

You were unsure if you were drawn because he was who he was. Or because you imagine who he could be with you. What's it like to be able to run your fingers freely through that scruffy hair of his? How would it feel to sleep beside him? Your head on his chest. Your legs in a tangled mess. What would it be like waking up to those big brown eyes, guessing what was on his mind?

Now is the time, you think. You’ve lost him for almost half a year. Knowing you had to endure it without being able to finally say what you always wanted to say. How you felt for him. You are not going to waste one moment again, you internally swear. You'll never know when he's going to be taken away from you.

Joel uncorks the bottle of whisky once more. But before he can pour himself another round, you take the bottle away from his hand. “The fuck is your problem?” He drawls. Clearly mildly intoxicated. He stands up and reaches down for the bottle in your hands. He anchors his right elbow against the oak wood table. In a split second, he loses his footing. A tincture of emotions flashes in his features as he stumbles over. You struggle helplessly to help him keep his balance. There's a loud crash. Of the glasses breaking and the table toppling over and two bodies coming together.

There’s a lump in your throat as soon as you open your eyes. They are enthralling. Those brown orbs of his. The rest of the room turns black and white against the brown hues of his cow eyes. You can see the crinkles by the corners of them. They're a bit more sunken than they previously were. But the effect they have on you stays the same. You can feel your own heartbeat. And his through his chest as his weight pressed down on you. The sweet scent of whiskey invades your nose with every wisp of air he exhales. You realize he's looking at you. All over your face. As if you were a countryside map and he wanted to memorize every landmark he could before he explored you. Your eyes lock. He closes his. But you keep yours open.

You can taste him now. The shots of whiskey he's been downing. The cigarettes you shared. The pure flavor of his mouth. You open your lips just slightly wider. You want to know him. Good and bad. And so when he licks your bottom lip with his tongue, you let him in. The once tender kiss turns into an open-mouthed battle for dominion. If he was just longing for intimate contact for reasons other than what you're hoping for, you don't want to know. What's important now is he's here. On you.

His slightly overgrown beard brushes your chin as he angles his face to gain more access to his treat. He humps. You gasp. Your legs involuntarily part. There's a tent in his crotch. A whimper escapes your lips. He grumbles.

“Jesus, fuck, look at you,” he bites his now plumper lips. "You've missed me that much huh?"

A tear brims just in the corner of your eye. "You have no idea, Joel," you think as you take in his face. How imperfect he is. But beautiful.

His brown eyes are sinfully hooded. You have to pray to the gods that you’d never die of a heart attack. A small droplet lands in the corner of your mouth. You realize he is sweating. Not long after, you’re reaching out to that spot with the tip of your tongue. His salty, slightly sweet taste fires up something inside the compartment of your chest. The burning desire. The pent-up longing for such magnetic force of a man that is Joel Miller. Your head becomes clouded as you come undone. You hear him snivel. And then you notice you’re digging your fingernails into his enormous back. The familiar scent of his body wreaks havoc as it makes its way into your brain. That musky, leathery scent. The scent that makes you want to do unspeakable things. Your hands search for the buttons of his plaid shirt. He beats you to it as he straightens up and rips it open like a wet piece of paper. Just when you thought you wouldn't go even crazier. He leans in at an agonizing pace. His breath fans over your face as he whispers, "Shall we go to bed,” looking straight into your soul.

Joel puts his arms under your knees and around your torso. You let him lift you up. You can feel your arms snaking up around his exposed back. Your hands stop at the back of his neck. Then you are carried out of the kitchen. To the narrow hall of your house. To the dingy but quaint staircase. And finally, to your bed. His eyes never leave yours. Yours never leave his.

And as the night becomes deeper and all of Jackson falls into a bottomless slumber, it hits you.

You are in love.

[rebelrayne]

Chapter 1 + 2 on AO3 (the rewrite)

Summer Reynolds fell in love with a boy from overseas when she was eighteen. Ten years later, she can’t say much has changed– even if it has for Tom.

or you can read the original version here, which was left up because I didn't want to remove any of it or change it- this one will be slightly different with added chapters, scenes, memories, etc. and a change in rating. This story is near and dear to me- I was going to write original fiction for it but decided against it and it's better on AO3 than in my drafts sooooo....

brief word from our sponsors: thank you to @csmicletters, @justtuesdays and @whatisreggieshortfor for dealing with me squealing, giggling and kicking my feet over my own version of tom. love y'all 🤍

chapter preview below the cut

The feeling of being at the right place at the right time overtook Summer’s mind. If she’d decided to meet her best friend earlier that evening, had she chosen to watch that Netflix show with her parents… She’d never have tasted the sweet and bitter taste of lemon on his lips, or felt the drift of his hands on the small of her back. One hand trailed up as he deepened the kiss– needing her like oxygen even though neither had taken a breath.

His eyes fluttered open a couple moments after they pulled away from one another, but she had an untamable smile on her face. The soft sounds of waves crashing onto the shore filled the silence, a salty breeze blowing her hair into her face. “Will I see you tomorrow?” he asked, cheeks colored in bright pink, as he tucked her hair back behind her ear.

“I hope so,” she said. She lifted herself to her tip toes and pressed soft lips to the stubble on his cheek. “And the next day and the day after that.” Taking backwards steps towards her door, she smiled and kept green eyes on him.

His lips curved into a smile as he breathed a quiet laugh. “And the day after that?”

“And the day after that, too.”

[ryuzakemo128]

(Untitled Work)

Pairing: Joel Miller x Australian Female Reader

Note: First draft. Brought to you by this idea.

Masterlist

Note 2: If there is an idea you want to stick into this. And you want me to write in the final product. Leave a comment on it in this google doc. It's labelled Joel Miller x Boomer and its the only tab underneath it.

Content Warnings: Idk just yet. So if you're uncomfortable with no content warnings please skip until I upload a completed version.

If anyone told him yesterday that his wife had a half-sister who was built like a strongwoman and worked in the SASR. He would have laughed at them like they were talking in tongues. Iris never told him about her. He assumed she was dead or not in contact with her anymore. 

Until one Sunday morning, Joel came face to face with a six foot-four woman built like a brick shit house. You were there to help around the place, your skill in carpentry were ‘needed’ according to your half sister. You wouldn’t speak all that much, quiet, shy. Keeping your words you would have added in with your ‘Hello’s to yourself. 

You didn’t want to be seen as rude, but you certainly didn’t want to get the impression you were going to be walked all over either. Whenever someone asked for help, you didn’t hesitate to get up and go over. No matter how small the issue was. You didn’t care if it seemed pedantic. You just wanted to help out. 

Whenever Joel entered the room, you made an excuse to leave and help out your sister. You didn’t want to make things awkward between him and you. He’s your half-sister’s husband. Any possibility of anything ‘happening’ between you two wasn’t going to happen. Not on your watch. You weren’t going to break your sister’s heart like that. You weren’t going to become your mother and become a home wrecker.

Joel overheard the conversation between you and your half-sister, Iris, “I haven’t thought about it. I don’t think I tried again. Most people assume something’s wrong with you once you tell them you’re a virgin at thirty-five.” you said, tapping a hammer against a nail on the floorboard. Adding another nail to prevent it from squeaking whenever someone stepped on that part of the floor. 

“And not to mention. I don’t want to become like our mother. The woman cheated on my father. I don’t want to become that kind of person.” she added with an exasperated sigh.

Iris raised an eyebrow at her sister’s statement, “What makes you think you’d end up like her?”

“Karmic retribution or somethin? I don’t know. I told her, ‘I don’t see you the same way anymore. I don’t respect cheaters, no matter the reason you might have had. You ruined this home by yourself.’ That’s what I told her. To be fair, I think you would have been at least one or two at the time. So you wouldn’t remember it even if you wanted to.” you answered, your nose scrunched up as you were deep in thought. 

Iris’s father was and still his Andrew’s older brother, Marcus, you haven’t spoken to him since you were nine. You haven’t planned to either. 

People loved to call you intense because of your silence, yet refuse to understand why you always remained silent was to prevent yourself from talking about yourself too much. You didn’t want your own family drama to spread like an uncontainable virus. Your family has hurt enough people already. 

Dragging people unrelated to it seemed like a bad idea. Not just a bad idea. But an absolutely terrible one.

“I heard your father banned my father from attending his funeral.” Iris told you. 

“Yeah. It was one of his last wishes.” you replied. “I’m guessing your father wasn’t pleased when I told him not to come. I was twenty-four at the time.”

Iris decided to reveal what happened when you called her father the week after your father died. “You know, you called him. Do you remember that?”

“Yeah, I remember that I called him about the fact that Andrew had passed away. I told him he didn’t want him to be there at his funeral. He didn’t want him there to drag up old issues and that it was his last wish.” you answered. “Why do you ask? He stayed away like his brother asked, which was something I guess.”

Andrew was your father. Raised you by himself with the extra help from his younger sister, but for the most part it was just him. 

It wasn’t your fault you had the same eye colour, the same sharp jawline, and the same intense quiet anger as your father whenever you bit your tongue. The urge to snap at someone remained behind your eyes. 

You took over cooking duties because Iris was a new mother. You weren’t going to let her lift a finger. Not if you could help it. A mother with divided attention was a stressed mother. So you were happy to take over cooking duties. 

Slow cooked beef stews, sautéd salmon steaks, whatever her craving was, you made to itch it. 

Weird craving for pickles? You had a jar of it ready in the fridge.

Odd craving for wagyu beef burgers? You'd whip out your secret recipe faster than a gunslinger in the wild west.

Strange need for pumpkin soup? You had it simmering on the stove, the sweet aroma wafting through the house.

Unusual need for a charcuterie board of exotic meats and cheeses at two in the morning? You had the deli's number on speed dial.

Nothing seemed out of reach, too strange, too odd, or even unusual when it came to food for you. You loved food more than anything. Perhaps your father had something to do with it. But you never knew what it was. And you still don’t.

When you bought a second fridge to put his beer into to make more room for fresh veggies and fruit? It was also at the same time you put in the green house for the hydraulic garden in the backyard one morning. He heard the gentle tapping of the hammer against the old shed. 

You had already started working on it two hours before he woke up, with precision, power and intensity. Parts of the old shed pulled apart and in its place was a gleaming, new structure slowly taking its place. 

You knew your sister’s place was a fixer-upper. But you didn’t care. All you saw was a way to become helpful. A way to be able to help someone. While you did the heavy lifting. They had enough time to spend with their children. 

“It’ll take you months.” Iris complained. 

“I don’t care how long it’ll take. As long as it's done.” you stated. “You toddle off, I’ll handle the rest.”

Which you did, you handled the harder stuff, you worked from dawn to sunset. The long hours didn’t particularly bother you as much as your sister thought it would. It wasn’t like she was forcing you to do all this work. 

As the greenhouse slowly came together, the structure taking shape from the remnants of the old shed and the careful introduction of newer materials to help keep the formation of the new structure to prevent it collapsing into itself. 

It wasn’t just the greenhouse, it was the serious look on her face when she brought in new things like the bar fridge for the basement. Beside the old bar fridge that she managed to find in the fridge, putting Joel’s beer into it. 

“Why’d you do that?” Joel asked, peering at the sleek, black fridge with a faux leather exterior that you had somehow managed to get downstairs.

“Would you rather have it upstairs? I don’t think Iris would appreciate a second fridge so close to the bigger one.” you answered. 

“I got a couch for down here too.” you pointed to the dark brown leather couch in the middle of the two bar fridges. 

Joel nodded, “It’s a good spot for it. I’ve been meaning to turn this into a man cave for a while. Didn’t think I’d get the help though.”

The bookshelf with the vinyl records sorted in alphabetical order came in before you brought the couch down there. The record player beside it confirmed it. 

Things were slowly coming together, the more time you spent there, the longer you worked on fixing things. Adding small things to help out in the long term. 

The more additional things you spent time adding things like shelving for his tools, a desk for when he worked from home, a place to sit and read his books. 

A place to put his laptop and charge his phone, a place to charge his guns. You had noticed the small things that Joel enjoyed, like the way he always had a book in hand or the way his eyes lit up when he talked about his job. You were meticulous in your approach, ensuring that everything had a place and purpose.

Leading up to the date you were planning to go on. Joel was indeed jealous over the thought of you dating someone that wasn’t him. Not that he would ever tell you, it wasn't like he had some form of claim over you. It would be incredibly selfish of him to think that he had some kind of hold over you.

[folliesandfolderols]

Writing prompts day 85-86

From this prompt list. If you’ve read this far, I’m not sure you need any explanation, but the short version is I hadn’t written any fiction since 2019, I set a goal to write at least 150 words/day in 2024, and this list was my way to restart. Also I abruptly decided on day 2 I would write an entire Tim/Damian story connecting all the prompts, because I am Good at Judging My Limits. /sarcasm Anyway, I finished the rough draft a while ago and am now unlocking the old entries as I edit.

Read from the beginning here, or on ao3 here.

Day 84 here

***

37. “Now, why don’t we teach you a lesson?”

122. “Let’s take it back to my place.”

***

Damian didn't come over that night, though he did text to ask how patrol had gone. Sort of. The text message actually read, I see no injuries on the notes for tonight so I assume you are well. But it came down to the same thing. Tim replied with You assume correctly, and even used a period for good measure. Damian liked the message. Tim fell asleep with a smile on his face.

Jason returned to town the following day, exhausted and grumpy from being on the road, if his video message announcing his arrival were anything to judge by. The three of them agreed to meet at Tim's that night.

“Somebody or some group is running them both,” Jason announced before he'd even sat down in the living room. 

Damian and Tim exchanged a glance, but Tim was the one who replied. “We thought the same thing. Do you have any ideas about who it could be?”

Jason shrugged. “If we're just guessing at names, maybe Black Mask? He likes to get his hands filthy. Or Falcone, he's done it before and he might like the irony of getting the Irish Mob and Bratva under the Mafia banner without either side knowing it.” 

Damian’s pensive frown deepened as he clicked through the documents Jason had shared with him and Tim. “I don't care for guessing games. Too inefficient. We need to interrupt a transport between an entry point and a distribution center here in town, or Metropolis, so we can question our way to the higher-ups.”

“In the past, the harbor shipping containers have been a good place to watch,” Tim offered. “We could split up the next time all three of us are unscheduled and keep an eye out.”

Jason nodded. "I'm all for that. Is there a way we could talk to one of the victims who's here in town, though? Without letting the people running the show know we're this close? I'm sure they're getting rumors of shit going bad in the western parts of the operation, but no one's going to be talking about it with the bosses here if they know what's good for them."

Tim sat up straighter as an idea occurred. "There was one woman who I met the night I—" A sudden sensory memory assailed him: Damian's hands warm on his thighs as he lifted Tim against the closet wall, the embroidery on his suit smooth against Tim's palms. He swallowed and fixed his gaze on his screen. "The night I went to the opera, one of the escorts with Waters seemed to know I was there for another reason. She saw me heading to his office but, judging by the lack of follow-up, I'm guessing she didn't say anything to him. And she did something to the bug I planted on her to stop it from working, so she's pretty savvy. If we can arrange a meeting with her, then she might be willing to give us info."

Damian, apparently unaffected by any flashbacks, rubbed his chin, considering it. "So, catch her while she's out during the day?"

Jason shook his head. "Too risky. Someone might see.”

Damian shrugged. “In that case, I believe it will be more effective if we use our civilian personas to make contact. Perhaps one of us might arrange a date with her."

"It can't be me." Tim twisted his mouth in regret. "Me making contact with her again will make her suspicious if she isn't ready to talk."

"And I'm too officially dead to make the date worthwhile to anyone," Jason said.

They turned their gazes to Damian. He only made them wait for a moment before sighing deeply. "All right. Drake, should I use you as my referral when I contact Waters?"

***

Tim sat at home, watching Damian set up his phone as a surveillance camera in the lounge where he was meeting Katarina. There were also actual cameras which they were piggybacking on, of course, but the phone would give the best point of view. Jason had made the drive to Metropolis to provide closer oversight and backup. Tim was up for patrol, so he would have to watch piecemeal from afar.

"This place is too fucking loud," Jason grumbled from the van where he was sitting.

"Indeed," Damian agreed, pretending to be talking on speaker the way a true douchebag would. "It will be difficult to catch audio without a great deal of filtering the background music and conversation. Clearly Waters wants me to be seen with her. This place is . . . popular." He said the last word in the same tone most people would have used for "a garbage heap."

"Well, I'm guessing it makes it easier to blackmail some targets if they've been seen publicly with the sex workers," Tim said.

Jason's tone sharpened. "Target's approaching. Entering through the front door. Must be a regular. The bouncer didn't even give her a second glance when she went past the line."

"We should look into who owns this place, then." Tim called up the superficial information and started following the names.

The angle of the video feed from Damian's phone swooped and settled again as he swiftly put it into a place better suited to capture Katarina's face. He leaned back, arms spread across the leather back of the half-circle booth in the center of the lounge to which the hostess had instantly directed him. Everyone close to Gotham wanted the reclusive Wayne heir to be seen at their place, even in Metropolis. (Never mind that all of them were technically Wayne heirs, as some excruciating conversations with Bruce's attorneys had made clear. The only one the reporters seemed to want to bother without an appointment was Damian, which was a blessing most of the time for the rest of them.)

Katarina's arrival seemed to be heralded by a surge in the volume of the music, which rendered her greeting as she approached Damian inaudible. Tim frowned and adjusted what he could, but the audio would need considerable cleaning up after tonight if they were going to use any of it.

He had to admit to himself that he was impressed by Damian's acting. The kid was good—body relaxed and welcoming, but confident in the entitled way expected of a man who'd never not been rich and indulged. They were talking, faces betraying only idle interest in one another, but their words remained obscured. When Katarina started moving in closer, Damian captured her hand and raised it to his lips, eyes sparkling wickedly over her knuckles. She laughed, clearly charmed, or at least engaged enough to pretend she was.

Abruptly, Tim realized his heart was hammering. Huh.

With a tiny tug, Damian offset Katarina's balance so that she draped gracefully over his lap and torso with a startled exclamation that didn't sound upset. Instead of chastising him playfully the way Tim expected, she snuggled up closer and let one slender arm wind its way around Damian's shoulders. Damian gave her a lazy grin and traced the line of her dress's zipper down her back, to just above her ass. Their mouths never stopped moving, but the angle was too difficult to allow Tim to read their lips.

Tim zeroed in on Damian's fingertips, rubbing tiny circles into the small of her back, and missed when she started kissing him. The sight of their mouths locked together felt like an electric shock to his nerves. Tim frowned and tried to swallow down the instinctive surge of sick fury that wanted to rise into his throat. Damian was only playing along, that was all. Acting. As they'd all been taught.

It was just that Damian had never seemed that interested in pretending, before now.

Katarina kissed Damian's jawline and paused at his ear to whisper something, while she sucked his earlobe between her teeth. A real multi-tasker, this one. Good thing Damian had removed his comms before all this began. Tim realized he was wringing his hands and forced himself to let go.

"Ha! Got it!" Jason crowed, and the audio went crystal clear, just in time to hear Damian say, “Now, why don't we teach you a lesson?”

Tim's alarm to head for the door and start his patrol sounded. He hastily hit "stop" on his phone screen.

On the video feed, Damian's hand slid lower, past Katarina’s waist, to grab just above her ass and pull her even closer. Something in his face reminded Tim of the way Talia's softened when she looked at Bruce.

Katarina giggled and rose to her feet, withdrawing gracefully from his grasp. “You’ll want privacy for that—I’ve been a very, very bad girl. Finish your drink and let’s take it back to my place. It’s just a few blocks east."

Damian tossed back the remainder of his drink and they started making their way through the lounge. Tim yanked his gaze away and stared, unseeing, at the windows, trying to force his breathing into a recognizable pattern. It was fine. This was undercover work. Damian didn't mean any of it. It was just acting.

His teeth clenched so tight the enamel squeaked. Shoving his hands into his gloves, he stalked toward one of his hidden exits, telling himself all the while that he was overreacting.

day 87 here

[lnights]

Layla, first of all: I LOVE Pt 12 of your Soulmate AU sooooooo much 💞💞💞 I am soooo happy for Eevi that she got support from (at least) some part of her family. And I really like Liisa🫂. I kind of treat the AU like a whole series and each chapter like an episode🙈. So between “episode” 1 & 2 I made up my own version of the series in my head but wanted to wait till the “season” is over to share it because I didn’t want to risk influencing the story as it unfolds. I just love your storytelling too much😅 (also my version is way darker than yours because I am a sucker for Angst).

So, my brainworm is, that for whatever reason Aleksi didn’t tell the guys about Eevi and Liisa and also didn’t meet Eevi again (and therefore also never Lisa. Also Eevi is only 17 and a few months away from turning 18.). The girls go back home and a few weeks pass and somehow Eevis family finds out about her and Liisa before she is ready to tell them and shit hits the fan. They take away her phone and put her in some religious pray-the-g-away-camp. Because she is still a minor there is nothing Liisa can do and she doesn’t have Aleksi’s contact info. Thinking that he won’t believe her when she reaches out in social media, she takes the next train to Helsinki and begs the receptionist at the entrance to the studio to tell Aleksi she is here. The receptionist calls in the studio and whoever takes the call (its not Aleksi) is more than confused and tells the room that a Liisa wants to talk to Aleksi because someone named Eevi got found out by her parents and is now in danger. Aleksi understands and immediately races out of the studio (followed by the guys) to meet her and is shocked when she tells him what happened. The guys are of course not happy he didn’t tell them anything but are ready to help him safe Eevi. After getting Eevi out of the camp doesn’t work (they are threatened with the police if they should trespass) and also not talking sense into the family (they only scream at nonsense at them), Aleksi decides to make his story public. His reel on IV goes viral and the public is outraged that Eevi is held against her will at the camp. Eventually, the pressure on the camp gets too much and they release Eevi. For the last month until she turns 18 Aleksi gets custody of her and then she moves in with Liisa. Not sure what happens after or if her parents get punished for basically locking her up, but I do think she and Aleksi are doing a lot of interviews, maybe a doku about both their stories and are definitely becoming activists for same-sex rights✊🏳️‍🌈.

Hi Gemma!

I'm glad you enjoyed the fic! I absolutely love your idea for it

I do love me some angst too, ngl I did have an idea to make Eevi 17 and the threat of conversion camp being a major factor.

Apparently a couple years ago a motion was brought forward to Finnish Parliament to ban it, but it lapsed. (I think only 26 states here have it banned, plus DC and Puerto Rico. Some municipalities have banned it in other states as well, but then that's simply the matter of crossing from one city to another...)

In that version, which was actually my first draft, was that Eevi was going to run away and track Aleksi down at a BC concert and beg for help. They would help hide her until she turned 18 and her family legally couldn't send her, then she would confront them with Liisa at midsummer, and Aleksi would go with her for support.

I had the idea for assault tbh, Aleksi was going to get punched in the face by his dad and Tommi was going to retaliate. The family was going to call the police but Joel would point out that they have all the messages they sent Eevi telling her she was going to be sent to conversion therapy, as well as confirmation of their past abuse to Aleksi, and a recording of the fact Aleksi was hit first and Tommi was defending him (Joel was recording everything just in case something happened)

I almost kept that part in the current fic 😅

Niko pointing out their career would bounce back, even if they took a little hit or had to take a break for a year or two, but their family name would forever be tarnished with child abuse allegations. So they dropped it.

Liisa and Eevi would still have their happy ending and so would the BC boys.

[kimjimagery]

Tad’s Daydream Disaster: Sneak Peek

After his adventure of searching for King Midas's collar, asking Sara to be his girlfriend, and returning to his studies, Tad goes back to the construction he use to work at and begs his boss, Mr. Anderson, a stern and no-nonsense boss to rehire him. It took some convincing but Anderson against his better judgment, he had agreed to rehire Tad.

“You're lucky I even considered rehiring you. Just pay attention to your work, I don't have time for your shenanigans!” Mr. Anderson scowling Tad as a warning.

“I know I messed up before, but I really appreciate you giving me this second chance. I promise I'll do better.” Tad nervously thank his boss.

The following day the construction site was busy. Tad is seen busily working, but soon his mind often wanders off, causing him daydream and to make mistakes that result in minor accidents. As the week progressed, Tad found it increasingly difficult to keep his mind in the present. Thoughts of fun and excitement filled his head, distracting him from his responsibilities. And each time his mind wandered, a catastrophe seemed to unfold at the construction site.

His co-workers quietly watch, amused.

“Look at him!” Chuckling one of the co workers “He's a walking disaster. This guy never fails to entertain.”

“I can't believe Mr. Anderson fell for his promises. It's like watching a sitcom.” Another worker laughed.

They had come to view Tad as a form of live entertainment, always ready to provide the unexpected. It was as if he possessed a unique talent for causing chaos without even trying. Yet, amidst their laughter, there also lingered doubts about his ability to change.

Mr. Anderson, felt a growing sense of regret. watching from a distance with frustration growing on his face, doubts gnawed at him as he wondered if Tad would ever truly change. Was this just Tads nature, or was there a way to prod him in the right direction? He had to find a solution, not only for the sake of the business but also for Tad's.

Mr. Anderson decides to give Tad one last chance and if Tad doesn't change then it's time to intervene and take immediate action.

To be continued...

This is the first draft of a story I mentioned I was writing. I just want to give you all a sneak peek.

Please be advised that this story contains references to corporal punishment and disciplinary measures. If you are sensitive to such topics, I suggest you refrain from reading it when the completed version is done. I would like to clarify that this story is purely fictional and should not be taken too seriously. It is a fanfic story created for entertainment purposes only.

[recurring-polynya]

*CLAPPING AND CHEERING WHENEVER I SEE BYAKUYA'S SQUAD 6 MEMOS AGAIN* Honestly an early favourite when I was getting into Bleach. Anyways for the deleted scene stuff my vote is for Hold On, Hold On. Academy squad...

I hope someone from Squad Six saves every memo Byakuya ever writes, like, in a binder somewhere. For posterity.

Ahem! So, in the first draft of Hold On, Hold On, when Renji hit the depression stage, Kira convinced him to stay in bed. I didn't like it though, and I eventually decided that a) it was too sappy and b) it was out-of-character for Renji to allow himself that level of self-indulgence, and I rewrote it. I absolutely stand by the final version as superior. Regardless, there are certainly some charming bits in this version, so here it is. This is actually, like, 3 deleted scenes, but they go together so you can have them all. (If the first few paragraphs are familiar, it's because they're the same as in the final story, but I wanted to keep the lead-in)

🛏️ 📖 🌧️

Renji relentlessly fills binders for two days. It’s actually kind of fun for Izuru to be able to supply information on various protocols and etiquette. For once, Renji is actually interested in things he knows about. But Izuru hopes this doesn’t turn out to be permanent. There’s a certain anxious mania to School Supply Renji that he finds exhausting. This may also be due to the fact that School Supply Renji doesn’t sleep any better than Denial Renji or Angry Renji.

But Saturday morning, things have changed once again. 

The day dawns bright and beautiful and Izuru hopes maybe they can spar outside or walk down into the city proper, instead of cutting articles out of magazines in the library again. 

Renji is lying in bed with his blanket over his face and his feet sticking out the bottom.

Izuru hopes against hope that he’s asleep. “Hey, Abarai?” he whispers.

A muffled “yuh?” emerges from the blanket.

“You ready to go down to breakfast?”

Izuru has lived with Renji for nine months now. Renji has never once not been ready for breakfast.

There is a long pause. “I don’t feel like it.”

A dark, familiar feeling knots in Izuru’s stomach. He tries not to jump to conclusions. Maybe Abarai has made himself sick with his mania and poor sleep. “You don’t feel like eating or you don’t feel like getting out of bed?”

Another pause. “Neither, really.” Renji sticks the tip of his nose out from under the blanket. “I'm never going to see her again, am I?"

No, it was his first suspicion after all. Izuru knows how to deal with this. It hurts his heart, both because he’s embarrassed by how familiar these feelings are, and also because Renji is strong and cheerful and spits in the face of life’s adversities, and depression is not for him, it’s for people like Izuru. But that’s how it is in this bitch of an afterlife, so Izuru’s going to Do Friendship and help Renji get through this. 

Izuru keeps his voice very calm and reasonable. "I think you will see her again. It won't be the same, and it might not be for a while, but I am sure you will see her again, especially if you work at it the way I know you're going to."

"It seems like so much work. It seems impossible."

"You just have to take it one step at a time. The first step is doing well at school, and you'll have that covered if you stop yelling at teachers and trying to show off in kidou. And it's Saturday, so if you want to just stay in bed for a while, you can. You don't need to work on it every minute of every day."

"I feel like I'm too sad to get up. I hate this. Why am I like this?"

Izuru pulls his desk chair over next to Renji's bed and sits down. "A sad thing is happening to you right now. You haven't really just let yourself be sad about it. It's okay to do that." 

"I'm being ridiculous. I would never do this back home." 

Izuru has never once heard Renji refer to Inuzuri as "home" before.

"Yeah, well, you're not there anymore, so go ahead and be ridiculous. I've spent a few days in bed myself because I was sad, sometimes it's what you need."

More of Renji's face pokes out from under the blanket. "Really?"

Izuru regards him very seriously. "Yes. And some of it was for good reason, like when my parents died, and sometimes it was for no reason. There are some people who just get sad sometimes and I'm one of them. And since I am the voice of experience here, this is what we're going to do today: You do what you want. If you want to stay in bed, stay in bed. If you want to go outside, go outside. At some point, I'll make you eat something, but it doesn't have to be right now. If there is anything you think will make you feel better, go for it. If there's anything I can do to make you feel better, say the word. You want to tell Rukia stories, I'll listen. You want me to go get you some food, just tell me what you want. You wanna borrow my blanket so you can make yourself a big blanket nest, it's yours. If you'd rather have Momo or Hisagi or someone else, I'll go get them for you. If you want to be alone, that's okay, but I will check on you from time to time. Deal?"

Renji nods. "Hey, Izuru?"

"Yeah?"

"I can really borrow your blanket?"

Izuru snorts, and goes to get it. He tosses it over Renji's feet, and then, realizing that his is much softer than Renji's own, reorganizes so the nicer one is on the bottom. "That one was easy."

"Once, in Rukongai, I got sick with a fever and I got the chills real bad. Everyone put their blanket on me and…" he trails off.

Izuru pats the mass of blankets. "I told you. Anything."

---

In a twist that surprises no one, Renji is bad at being depressed. The problem is that he is bored, but he still doesn't feel like doing anything.

"Do you want to get out of the room?"

"No, I want to stay here."

"Do you want to lift your weights?"

"No, I don't want to move."

"Do you want to talk about anything?"

"I don't even want to think about anything. That's the problem, actually. I keep thinking things I don't want to think about."

"You want to read a book?"

Renji wrinkles his nose. He's got blankets wrapped around his head, and if he weren't so sad, he would look really adorable. "Like homework?"

"No, like, for fun. I read a lot when I get depressed, it helps distract my mind."

Renji still looks perplexed. "But what do you read that's fun? I guess our history book is kinda interesting."

It dawns on Izuru suddenly. Renji has mentioned before that paper is rare out in Inuzuri, and that his schoolbooks are the first books he's ever owned. Every time Izuru thinks he has a handle on the awful dump Renji grew up in, he learns some new horrible detail, large or small that makes things seem even worse. "I've heard you tell stories before, " Izuru says slowly. "Not stories about yourself, but about made-up people or events? Stories you tell over and over?" He'd always found this performative storytelling sort of odd, but Renji seemed to enjoy it. He recalls Rukia telling stories once or twice, as well. She had seemed like an entirely different person.

"Yeah, sure," Renji agrees. "Like you would tell at a campfire, or when you're snowed in." 

"We have books like that, here in civilization."

Renji looks confused. "But wouldn't the story just be the same every time?"

Izuru shrugs. "That is a limit of the medium, I suppose." He doesn't keep too many novels at school, but he does have a few. He immediately rejects all that have even the vaguest romantic subplot. Here's one that's almost entirely descriptions of the protagonist hacking his way through the War Beneath the Earth, described in loving detail. Izuru can't even remember if it has any female characters. He can remember that Momo hates it. "Here. Give this a try."

Renji looks deeply skeptical, but he sits up, rearranging his blanket cocoon, and accepts the book.

Izuru has been working on homework, but if Renji can take a day, so can he. He picks up the novel he hasn't touched in a week, and settles on his own bed, mirroring Renji.

Just two nerds, reading in their room, on a Saturday morning. This is nice.

---

The sky has clouded over but good, and fat raindrops are smacking against the window. So much for this morning's beautiful sunshine.

Izuru is engrossed in his book when there's a sharp rap at the window. He and Renji look up simultaneously to see Momo's rain-streaked face smushed against the glass. Both boys scramble to their feet to let her in.

"What are you doing, sneaking in here in the middle of the day?" Izuru exclaims.

"It's awful out there and about to get nastier," Momo explains. "No one's going to catch me. I brought supplies." She opens up the bag she's managed to haul up her two-story climb. "First of all, Izuru told me what he gave you to read, and it's unacceptable, so I went to the library for you." She unloads a pile of books into Renji's arms. He looks stricken. "Does that mean I have to stop reading mine? Because I really like it. It might be my favorite book."

Momo gives Izuru a dirty look, then turns back to Renji. "You may do whatever makes you happy," she offers generously. "Then, when you read my books, you will appreciate them more." 

Izuru rolls his eyes.

"Next, have you been eating?"

"Stop being his mom," Izuru scolds. "And he ate the onigiri I brought him at lunchtime."

"Never had a mom," Renji ponders. "Momo can be my mom if she wants. You can be my dad, if it makes you feel better."

Their faces are both bright red. "Let's just stick with what we've got, okay?" Izuru suggests.

"Anyway, I was worried you hadn't eaten anything, so I went down to town and got you these." Momo presses a slightly greasy paper bag into his hands.  

An overwhelmed, emotional look has come into Renji's eyes. "Is it taiyaki?"

"It is taiyaki," she confirms. "Eat it or not, it won't hurt my feelings." She clears her throat. "I have one more thing for you. If you don't want it--"

"I get it, already! You two are being so nice I'm gonna puke!" 

Momo pulls a lumpy grey mass from her bag and thrusts it at Renji.

Very slowly, almost reverently, he puts his taiyaki bag down on his desk and accepts it.

Izuru doesn't get it. It looks like a standard issue dorm blanket, just like the one Renji uses. 

Renji's fingers tighten in the scratchy wool. "How did you…?"

"It technically belongs with the room although I hear people make off with them all the time. I asked her roommate if I could swap it out with mine. I use one from home, so--"

Oh. Oh.

Renji cuts off her babbling with a rib-snapping hug. "Thank you, Momo," he whispers, his voice thick.

[klkbass]

Apple Pages is gaslighting me. (And maybe you.)

Recently, Apple released their new AI tools including options to proofread, rewrite, and even connect with ChatGPT (no way) in their writing app Pages. Curious, I decided to play with the rewrite tool to see how it worked. I will admit, as much as I am against AI, I can see its use as an editing tool. I certainly don’t take its rewriting suggestions verbatim, but it has made me rethink some of my writing choices—switching sentences, replacing words, etc. However, I have been finding some strange things as I slowly review the entirety of my Lost Avatar story. Words have been replaced and phrases have been added that I know I didn’t have in the original. And this is before utilizing the rewrite tool.

Now, one might argue that it’s over two-hundred thousand words. There’s no way I could possibly remember all of them exactly, and that’s true. However, I’ve read my story enough times to know when something is out-of-place or inaccurate. The proof? The final version is posted on AO3. Several times I’ve had to reference my own work to see if I had really written what is now in the final draft on my Pages.

The first time I noticed it, I dismissed it. A fluke, right? The second time, I got annoyed, which prompted this entire post.

Let me share an example:

Original:

“That’s not Mako.” Korra had seen the cold stare on his face once before. It was the same as when she had fought him while he was possessed by darkness. Except this time there was no dark energy around him. Just anger.

What I recently found in Pages:

“That’s not Mako.” Korra had seen the cold stare on his face once before. It was the same as when she had fought him while he was possessed by darkness. Except this time there was no dark energy around him. Just anger which meant she might still be able to reason with him.

See the difference? The addition of that last phrase? I have no idea where that came from and, again, this is prior to utilizing the rewrite tool.

So, a word of caution to anyone that is using Pages as a word processor or using its AI tools. You might want to review your works or make sure you’re saving a copy in another location. Otherwise, they might not be the same as you remember them.