#punching the air and the wall and everything else etc

[slowdrawl]

| Everybody Loves Contractors | AU NO OUTBREAK| JoelMiller X f!reader |

| 1/? | | The Walkthrough | 4k words | 18+ minors dni | masterlist |

She’s got a fixer-upper, trauma, and an attitude problem. Joel’s got calloused hands, a tool belt, and a soft spot for crazy. This is going to go great. "He hums, and he’s so close that you can practically feel the vibration on your ear. Suddenly, you are acutely aware of the proximity between you. He’s practically got you caged between him and the wall; the realization makes you light-headed. A shiver rolls down your shoulders, landing low in your spine. You shrug it off and turn around." a/n Here's the start of a new series because of there's one thing I'm gonna write it's flirty!Joel with lots of banter cuz it's my AU and ur just livin' in it (if u want 2)

| Warnings | Explicit language, sexual tension, mutual pining, age gap, a little angst, mentions of DV (not described, not Joel), mentions of PTSD, mentions of death, Joel being Joel, etc. Please read responsibly.

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The house smells like mildew and anger.

It’s written in the walls, literally. Holes punched through drywall, baseboard peeling at the edges. There are cat scratch marks on the inside of the laundry room door, it still smells like ammonia. The smallest bedroom has pencil marks in the doorframe, little ticks with dates scrawled next to them. Someone’s poor kid grew up here. You can’t help but wonder what kind of trauma they took with them in the moving van.

Five months ago, you changed the locks on your old rental and promised yourself never again.

Three months ago, you got the protection order.

Two months ago, they accepted the offer, and you quit your job in Seattle.

And now here you are, two thousand miles away from everything you’ve ever known. Standing in the middle of the living room of your new home, sweating, maybe regretting. Your whole life…or what’s left of it anyway, stacked in boxes along one wall.

You don't know what you expected. Some kind of relief. Maybe. A break in the clouds. One of those cinematic moments where a breeze rolls through the window and the sun hits just right. The kind of moment that makes life feel bearable again, that makes the future look bright and tangible.

Instead, the air is thick, dusty, humming with someone else's ghosts.

You wipe your forehead with the hem of your t-shirt and mutter, "The fuck did I get myself into," to the drywall, like it might actually answer you.

You jump when you hear a knock. Not on the door, but on the siding. 

Heavy, loud, maybe a little annoyed.

It makes the whole wall rattle, like it's got opinions or something. You’d almost forgotten that the contractor you hired was supposed to swing by today.

You peek through the window, squinting. He’s already walking backwards away from the door. Clipboard in hand, scanning the place, a frown set into his face like it’s been there since before you were born. He’s in a t-shirt, jeans, work boots. Built like a load-bearing wall, and if you had to guess, probably as friendly as one, too.

You open the door a few inches, and leave the storm door shut. "You the contractor?" you ask, for some stupid reason. Of course he is.

He responds, deadpan, rough Southern drawl, "No, I’m actually here to talk to you about our Lord and Savior." Half a smirk tugs at his mouth, but it settles quick.

"Funny." You let out half a laugh. "God don’t want nothin' to do with me. If you come back with Girl Scout cookies, maybe we can talk." You shake your head, open the door wider. "Miller, right?"

He glances up at you and nods once. "Yes, ma’am. You can call me Joel. You the one that hired me?" Do I look old? Ma’am feels old. I’m like a decade younger than him. Oh god, I need to moisturize.

"I guess so, Sir. You were the only one who answered the ad."

He huffs through his nose. "Figured it’d be worse. Place looks better than it did in the photos, at least."

You raise a brow. "You haven’t even seen inside yet."

"True. I never will if you don’t open the door, darlin’." Oh. Okay. That’s better. Darlin’ is definitely better.

You reach out your hand toward him, introduce yourself. He takes it. His hand engulfs yours. Calloused, hairy, fucking massive. You try to shake like you mean business, your dad’s voice echoing in your head about strong handshakes.

You step aside to let him in. He surveys the place like it’s a crime scene. Probably because it honest to god looks like one.

"No offense, ma’am," he says, looking around. "This place is a mess."

You shrug. "A mess was about all I could afford to buy. Besides, she’s got character." You cross your arms. "That’s why I hired a contractor."

He nods, dragging one of those big-ass hands down a particularly banged-up corner at the living room entrance. "That so?" he laughs. "Maybe we need Jesus to get involved after all—might need a carpenter who knows how to perform miracles."

You huff a laugh. "Well I got cash, not faith. Let’s see what that buys me."

He keeps walking, slow, deliberate, like each creak in the floorboards is telling him something. His eyes scan the water-stained ceiling, the slumped couch you haven’t had the guts to toss yet, the leaning doorframes.

You trail behind him, arms crossed, suddenly aware of the sweat under your bra and how empty your stomach feels. Saltines and gas station coffee aren’t holding up.

"Previous owner leave in a hurry?" Joel asks, toeing a half-unpacked box near the back door.

"If by hurry you mean five years of divorce proceedings and a nervous breakdown, then yeah. Real Irish goodbye."

That earns a quiet chuckle. You glance at him. His expression stays unreadable, but his mouth twitches like it wants to smirk.

He heads to the kitchen sink, turns the knob. The pipes groan. Nothing.

You wince.

He looks over his shoulder. "You been livin’ here without plumbing?"

"I’ve been surviving, thank you very much. It’s called character building." You laugh, “Maybe don’t get too close though.” You pick up the collar of your t-shirt and pretend to sniff it. The joke barely lands, you are indeed visibly sweaty. This is going so well. I love this for meHe looks you up and down, giving you a questioning look. It makes your pulse jump. Something about him is making you even sweatier, and you’re not being very fucking cool about it. “I’ve been staying at an AirBNB. I promise I’ve showered this week.”

He turns to face you fully, arms folded now. Broad as hell. The kind of man who fills a room without trying. "You planning to do any of this work yourself?"

You lift your chin. "Some of it."

He snorts. "You got tools, princess?" Oh… 

Wait, no, nope. Not a princess, not into a man being patronizing, even if he looks like this. Get it together. THINK OF THE PATRIARCHY.

"I have… a hammer. Somewhere."

"Mmhm.” he tilts his head, “it pink n’ glittery or what?”

He kneels down, already pulling a multi-tool from his back pocket. "I’ll get some measurements. But just so you know—houses like this? They got a way of showin’ people what they’re really made of. Sooner or later." You sigh, rubbing at your temple, feeling defeated already. “if you don’t want to take the job I understand, just let me know. Because I don’t exactly have time to fuck around here.” “I can do it. Just gonna take time is all.” He stands back up, putting the tool down on the kitchen island, pulling out a measuring tape. “You wanna talk numbers?” What you want to say is, ‘Yes. Yours. Cellphone preferably,’ but you can already taste the rubber from putting your foot in your mouth during this whole damn interaction. So you don’t. You settle on, “Yes, please don’t bankrupt me, I’m fragile.”

“Alrighty then, show me the rest of the place. We can give you a ballpark after I see how fucked up it really is.” You lead the way down the hall, you were smart—or maybe annoying, enough to mark a lot of the things you’ve found to be extra janky with sticky notes. He followed behind you, on your heel, too damn close, making notes on that fuckin’ clipboard the whole time. “Three bedrooms, huh? You got kids back at the BNB?” He asks you as you’re pacing the smallest room. You laugh, shocked. “Nope, no croch goblins, just dreams of somewhere for my friends from back home to stay in when they visit.” You look back at him, “Thinking of turning the other one into a ritual room or something, somewhere I can sacrifice goats n’ shit.” He doesn’t respond, doesn’t flinch. You laugh, awkward this time “I think it’s haunted anyway.” GIRL. WHY ARE YOU THE WAY YOU ARE? “Well, ’m not a witch, or warlock or whatever. But, I might know an exorcist if you really need one.” He replies with a wink. You stutter, “Noted,” and usher him into the bathroom. The bathroom is small, and he follows you in instead of standing in the doorframe. It’s a tight fit for two people, there are probably two feet between you as he surveys the place. He lets out a heavy breath, “Well fuck.” You groan, “Oh god, what is it? Wait. Actually…don’t tell me” You say as you turn around to see what he’s looking at. He’s just staring past you toward the wall beside the shower, the expression on his face tells you he sees something expensive to fix. “You see that?” He says, moving in a bit closer, pointing and reaching his arm past you, placing it on the wall, dragging a finger down. God, I am touch starved.

“There is, or at least was a leak in this wall. Probably why the waters turned off. Did your husband…boyfriend, whoever, not get an inspector here before you bought the place?” “See, that would involve having one of those.” “An inspector?”

You pause. “A boyfriend. Last one ended in a protection order and a move halfway across the country.” You laugh, say it like it’s a joke, but it’s not. He doesn’t need to know that , though. If you laugh about it it’s not so real, not so scary. “Didn’t have an inspector either.” He hums, and he’s so close that you can practically feel the vibration on your ear. Suddenly, you are acutely aware of the proximity between you. He’s practically got you caged between him and the wall, the realization makes you light-headed. A shiver rolls down your shoulders, landing low in your spine. You shrug it off and turn around. What in the pornhub is going on? I need some fuckin’ air. You pratically trip over your own feet getting out of the bathroom, you duck under his arm, tossing some half-hearted, vaguely-human sound over your shoulder like “Okaycoolthanksnoted.” Joel says nothing again, just watches you spin away like roadrunner or some other cartoon character with a trauma response. You stumble down the hall, leaning against the opposite wall, trying to look casual and not like you just got a full body flashbang of a panic attack from a MAN explaining water damage. Baby calm the fuck down, he’s just tall!! You grab a loose piece of paper off the ground, fanning yourself with it. It has “TO DO: 1: TRY TO SURVIVE. 2: DON’T CRY” written on it in sharpie. The irony is honestly cinematic. A few seconds later Joel emerges from the bathroom, he’s got his eyes down, scribbling something onto the clipboard. He looks unfazed, like he has no idea that you feel like he was about to go 50 Shades of Plaid on you. “You good?” He asks, low, unreadable again. You freeze. He knows, he fucking knows. You clear your throat. “Oh yeah. Just, uh…tight bathroom. I’m claustrophobic, and allergic to mold, and men. You know, just girlie things.” He stares you down, one brow arched high. You decide to pivot. “Okay, so like…give it to me straight, doc. How bad is it? Realistically. On a scale of one to ‘the screen door is actually a portal to the underworld.’” Joel flips a page on the clipboard. “Well. You’ve got a lot of issues.” “Okay, ouch, didn’t have to just say it like that.” You chuckle, “Now what about the house?” “Couple walls need gutting, bathroom for sure. You got some foundation issues we need to check into, obviously the plumbing is fucked.” He sighs, tracing a line down the page with that dumb pencil, “Obviously it needs new trim, paint. I guess you could do most of that…I can get you the contract ready by Monday.” “Monday! Cool. Everyone loves Mondays, can’t wait.” He huffs something that might be a laugh. Nice. Then it’s silent for a moment, it’s thick and warm and low-key awful. Neither of you is saying anything; the only sound is a ceiling fan rattling its chain around. You catch yourself zoning out on his forearms, watching the veins pop out when he flexes slightly and flicks his tape measure closed. He notices. You know he notices. He finally looks up at you, meeting your eyes. “You sure about this?” he asks, his voice is lower now. Not condescending. Just… careful. You consider lying. About saying yes, of course, you’ve got it all handled. About pretending like this isnt a last-ditch attempt at rebuilding your life from the ground up after everything else burned down. But you’re tired. And this stranger is looking at you like he understands the version of you that doesn’t have it together. So you say, “If I'm being honest, not really. But I don’t have too many options.” Joel nods. “Well, seems like a decent place to start, then.”

Before he leaves, the two of you migrate to the back deck—if you’re even allowed to call it that. It’s less porch, more ominous wooden death trap. You already know this bad boy needs to be re-built. It’s really not on the top of your priority list. Joel takes one look at the wood rot, trails the warped boards and groans heavy from his chest. “You know this whole thing is rotted right?” “Do I look stupid? Mr. Miller?” You reply to him snarky, you’ve given up all grace at this point. Fuck it. Being off-putting and kind of mean is my new thing. You drop yourself down onto a broken pallet, sighing dramatically, swiping your hand across your forehead. “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, Joel. She’s got character, we’ve been over this.” You hear him mutter something about termites and OSHA violations, then watch as he lowers himself onto the step. He groans like a dad. It sounds like old injuries and unresolved tension.

He flips the paper over again, then, like Blues fuckin’ Clues, he’s listing things off like you didn’t hear it the first time. Plumbing, rewiring, subfloor replacement in the kitchen, and a new water heater. Your ears start ringing with the sound of a cash register, dollar signs flooding your mind. “Then labour?” you ask, voice very brave and not shaking at all. He gives you a number. A rough, but real number. Like five digits real. You nod. “Cool, cool. Totally doable. I’ve always loved bankruptcy, I think it's sexy, honestly.” Joel tilts his head at you like he’s still trying to figure you out. Good luck old man. You see the gears turning in his head, trying to feel out how much of your sarcasm is actually just fear. Scanning your face like he doesn’t know if you’re only half joking, or seconds away from tears. The Joke’s on him. Two things can be true at one time. “I can probably… get a bigger loan,” you mumble, mostly to the coffee can filled with cigarette butts next to you. “You only need one kidney, right? Also, I’m a regular plasma donor, you know where the blood bank is by chance?”

This time he gives you a real look, softer. Something that has dad energy behind it, care mixed with a bit of pity. “I can work with you on the schedule, ‘specially if you’re doin’ some of the demo yourself. Knock her out slower, cut down on the labour cost.” You blink. “Are you offering me a payment plan? Or trying to get me to weaponize a sledgehammer for your own sick enjoyment?”

He shrugs. “Both, mostly.” You watch him stand, groaning again, tucking his clipboard under his arm. The afternoon sun is hitting his hair just right. He pulls the pencil out from behind his ear and walks over to the doorframe like it's his handy dandy notebook. “Hello, Sir, are you about to deface my property?” He writes ten digits down, right onto the trim, no paper. Just rawdogging the wood with graphite. The number is definitely bigger than the estimate he just gave you. He looks back at you, proud like he was just tagging a masterpiece. Or warning the house. “Text me tomorrow,” he says, stepping back and admiring it like it’s something hung in the Lourve. “We’ll go over the schedule then, ok darlin’?” I know it’s just for work but like… Is he into me? I love being delusional. You stare at the frame. “You need me to…make you business cards, set you up an instagram account or something?” He shrugs again, giving you a salute as he walks out the back gate toward his truck. “Fresh outta cards. Pencils don’t need WIFI.” “You need to expand your horizons. Get hip with the kids!” You holler at him, just as you hear the door of the truck slam closed. Jesus, he’s literally one hundred years old. As the afternoon drags into dusk, the cicadas start screaming, signaling you to call it a day. You glance over at the boxes lined up against the wall, spotting one with ‘TOOLS’ written on it in sloppy print. You giggle as you pick it up, you hoist the box up onto the kitchen island, and rip off the tape. When you look inside, you start laughing harder. On top of the pile of junk in there is a hammer. It looks practically brand new, and the base of it… is pink. Joel was right. God I hate that guy already. You put the hammer own onto the counter beside the measuring tape and pause. Joel must have forgotten to grab it on his way out. You grab your phone and car keys, flicking off the lights in the house, double-checking that the front door is locked and head to the back.

You walk onto the porch and squint at the phone number written on the door trim, punching the digits into your cell. You add the new contact, and then hesitate over the message box for a moment before pressing the home button and tucking it away in your pocket.

The Airbnb is quiet, save the aircon whirring in the corner of the room. It’s a pleasant sound, and feeling after a long day sweltering in the house. It’s 9 pm, you’re starving and exhausted. You start to think about the price of the renovation, and the conversation you have to have with the bank tomorrow, sighing. Now that you have an estimate, you realize that you absolutely have no budget to rent this place anymore. Looks like you’re moving into the house ASAP. You groan at the thought of losing your A/C. You'll miss it, but not as much as you’re going to miss a functioning bathtub. You make a mental note to tell Joel tomorrow that you need to start with the plumbing. You walk into the kitchen, throwing your keys down on the dining table, and walk over to the fridge. You scan the shelves and settle on the leftover sitr-fry you ordered yesterday from some hole in the wall, you pull it out along with a beer. You mumble “Please do not give me food poisoning,” like a prayer, as you throw the box into the microwave. When you’re done with your food, you throw the box into the garbage and grab one more beer from the fridge, before dragging your feet toward the bathroom. You run a bubble bath, lighting some candles you picked up from the dollar store the other day. You lower yourself into the water and let it wash over your aching muscles, letting yourself relax into it. You sip your beer and scroll your phone for half an hour, you keep thinking about him. His phone number is there, in your contacts, taunting you. You, along with the help of two beers and a calorie deficit, convince yourself that you should text him. (9:45 PM) You: You forgot your tape measure, genius. It takes him a few minutes to respond, the perfect amount of time for you to start spiraling and regretting hitting send.

(9:51 PM) Joel Miller: You’re bad at listenin’. Said text me tomorrow, instructions too hard, darlin? You roll your eyes at him through the screen. (9:52 PM) You: Fuck u too!! I was just trying to be nice 🙄 (9:54 PM) Joel Miller: sure you are. Don’t need it. (9:55 PM) You: dont need me to be nice? I’ll remember that. Three dots pop up and then, (9:58 PM) Joel Miller: don’t need the tape measure, got more than one.

You hum to yourself, flipping through your brain like a rolodex, trying to find a witty enough response but you arent quick enough (9:59 PM) Joel Miller: don’t remember askin you to be nice, but if this is it im scared to see the opposite. What the fuck does that mean? Fuck it. (10:04 PM) You: see, you say that like you wouldnt secretly love to see me come unhinged. Sounds like a challenge to me, joel. You: Kinda funny you think you’d survive it, though. Most people don’t stick around long enough to see the full show. You stare at your phone for too long, thumb hovering over the unsend button like its a detonator. He doesn’t open it, doesn’t text back. You’re left with the slow, creeping awareness that you said too much. Again. Very on brand.

You dunk your head down into the water, and you immediately regret that too. You sit up, coughing and blowing bath water out of your nose. You really are the epitome of a calm, collected hot girl today. You start to crash out. Is he joking? Flirting? Warning you? Testing your boundaries? Is this just his weird version of small talk? Are you overthinking this? Yes. Absolutely

Is he in bed right now? Reading your texts over and deciding whether he's going to just send you an invoice for a consult and never step foot in your house again? Oh god, is he going to send YOU a restraining order? You pull the plug in the bath, let the water drain out, and turn the tap on, pulling up on the little lever to let the shower pour over your body. You’re lying there, like you're reenacting some dramatic scene in a movie or music video, where someone's lying in the middle of the street getting rained on. Except you’re just on the floor of a tub, contemplating your very existence, considering moving back out of Texas, maybe you could fake your own death. You turn the tap off, and stumble out of the tub, wrapping yourself up tight in a towel, heading for the bedroom. You throw on an old t-shirt and flop into bed, mind still going in circles as you stare up at the ceiling. You go over the texts one more time and cringe harder. Idiot. That last one truly came out sounding a little too honest, even for you. Like a confession, cosplaying as a dare. You put the phone face down on the nightstand and try to rationalize it. Maybe he’s asleep, he’s old, right? Maybe he’s watching some stupid movie. Maybe he read it and is just… stunned silent by your off-putting yet endearing charm. Totally, that's the one.Or maybe, he’s now just deeply, deeply, concerned that his new client has both abandonment issues and a God complex. You silently scream into your pillow, giving up on the Airbnb ceiling, that bitch had nothing to say. Waiting. Still no reply. Sleep starts to take you, as the sound of the aircon and your own heartbeat mixes like white noise, a little too loud in your ears. You fall asleep thinking about baseboards, leaky pipes, and his hands

ps. if you like this fic please tell me because your comments are what keeps me writing!

[issdisgrace]

LIST OF THINGS I THINK DIGGER HARKNESS LIKE TO INDULGE IN

WARNINGS: NSFW, hide your eyes minors, holy men don’t read

A/N: Was tired and horny when writing this. Also shout out to @rodolfoparras for putting these thoughts into my head. Also sorry if it’s a little repetitive.

Blood kink - Use your blood, his blood, or someone else’s blood as lube to stretch him open. Smear blood all over him and tell him how pretty he is.

Bondage - Ropes, handcuffs, zip ties, whatever just tie him up and fuck him dumb.

Breath play - Wrap your hand around his neck as you fuck him and only let go when he’s starting to lose consciousness, pinch his nose shut while he’s giving you a blowjob and make almost blackout before fucking his mouth.

Breeding kink - Breed him from dusk to dawn, fill him full of cum, plug him up afterwards, make him go on his day filled with your cum and painfully hard because he can’t get the fact he’s filled with your cum off his mind.

СВТ - Tie him up, step on him, slap him, Christ bite him and this man is cumming the second anything happens. He fucking loves the pain, he survives and thrives off of it.

Degradation - Call him a slut, call him a whore, call him any degrading name you can think of and he will fucking eat it up, getting harder and harder with each word.

Orgasm control - Deny him, overstimulate him, just whatever you do make sure he can only cum on your terms and conditions.

Feminization kink - Call him baby girl or your woman, make him wear women’s clothes, make him wear makeup, get him all pretty then fuck him till his makeup is ruined and his clothes are torn to shreds.

Gun kink - Hold your gun to his head while you fuck him or while he gives you a blowjob. Let a shot out into wall or even someone near you and he’s fucking cum everywhere.

Humiliation - Make fun of his cock, make fun of everything about him, and he will cum hands free.

Impact play - Slap him, spank him, punch him, kick him, and he will get absolutely rock fucking solid. He loves the pains.

Knife kink - Cut him, fuck him with your knife against his throat, carve your initials into him, make him lick his blood off your knife, smear his blood across with your knife.

Manhandling - Throw him around like a fucking rag doll. Pick him up and fuck him against the wall. Even better fuck him mid air.

Marking kink - Digger loves for everyone to know that he’s yours but also yours his. Hickeys, bites, scratches, etc, loves them all to death.

Piss kink - Piss in him, piss on him, he’s in fucking heaven. He’s drinking it up (literally). Make him feel like a fucking pig.

Praise - Tell him how good he is for you. Tell him that he is a good boy. Just praise the absolute shit out of him and make him feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

Public/Semi Public - Diggers really horny for you all the time so he couldn’t care less on location. He loves the risk of being caught and actually being caught.

Scent kink - He obsessed with the way you smell. He wants his face buried in your pits or into your crotch at least 4 hours a day. Steals your clothes and gets off to your smell.

Size kink - This goes with the manhandling. Digger loves that you’re bigger and taller than him. Just you standing next to him got him hot under the collar.

Somnophilia - Man is a heavy sleeper so you can just use him and he wouldn’t even know and that’s so fucking hot to him. He loves when he wakes up and can feel your cum dripping out of him.

Spit kink - Please spit on him, spit in his mouth, spit on his hole, spit on his cock. He fucking loves it makes him feel dirty and hot.

[the-ninja-legacy-whip]

Surface Tension

EA: Water Walking

NRG: generates many high viscosity bubbles in all directions. Not lethal, but definitely annoying considering they're basically floating balls of glue/tar

Size

EA: Perfect Size. Is always naturally the right size. Door frame too low? Naturally becomes shorter. Crowd blocking his view? Instantly becomes tall enough to see over them.

NRG: Theres only one idea, but its kinda mid (Elasticity). The only other one is shrinking so much, temporarily, that the user can essentially teleport. Think kinda like Ant-Man with the Quantum Dimension, only less "hey here's an invisible microscopic world" and more "lemme shrink so much that I can just blip from one building to another one nearby." idk theres no good options I feel

Propulsion

EA: Propelled Punch. Can launch propulsive energy with physical moves. Think MHA Air Force

NRG: Bound and Rebound. For a time, they will propel themself off of any surface. Like a pinball. Horrifying in tight spaces.

Figment

EA: Never Alone. Whenever they're alone, no they're not. At least one clone is with them if theres no one else around (that they known of at least, won't detect hidden people)

NRG: Me's A Crowd. Makes a seemingly infinite amount of copies. He makes a few copies, which each also make a few copies, etc. Think MHA Twice Sad Man Parade

Balance

EA: naturally well balanced, always lands on their feet, difficult to trip up, etc

NRG: Imbalance. Those around the user become very unbalanced, like they have sea legs.

Decay

EA: Unstable. Objects they hold are naturally more brittle. Think reverse Fusion EA

NRG: Vaporize. Everything within an inch of the user is decayed. Floor, walls, life, etc. But only within an inch, otherwise this would be WAY too powerful, especially for what's already the most lethal element in Ninjago history! (Sorry Destruction and Poison, you've been outdone.)

Heeeere we go!

Surface Tension: EA- YES, although this feels incredibly obvious (also forces me to reconsider the non-canon Effect of Water I theoretically gave to Jesse jhgfds NA- Ooh I could see this working similar to Lloyd's Energy Shield actually!

Size: EA- This seems hilarious on a first glance but can you IMAGINE the life improvement that would come from this jgfhdgsds NA- I kinda like the Elasticity idea! It's kind of like changing your size without changing our size, in. way! But there's also nothing wrong with temporarily blipping to another dimension either jhgfds

Propulsion: EA- Nice! And fitting! NA- That DOES sound horrifying. I love it!

Figment: EA- Also horrifying! But maybe comforting for them to some degree (also I totally forgot what figment was for a sec hnnng) NA- ...and of course, taking things to the opposite extreme! Though there's not a whole lot we can do with this one to begin with, so this is probably the best route to take

Balance: EA- Yes! Precisely what I'd been thinking xD NA- And again, the inversion! Which I also like!

Decay: EA- "EVERYTHING I TOUCH DIIIIIIES" NA- Yeah man this really is like if Destruction and Poison had baby lmao

I also would like to see more from those other elements before making any sweeping claims about them!

Swarm: EA- Yesssssss I love the Communication EAs a lot actually Misfortune: EA- Yaaaaaas Qrow semblance reference! This also feels like a negative twist on Jesse's NA too!

Anyway all of these are pretty cool, thanks for sharing!

[iambic-stan]

Salt Air

It's an even shorter short story than usual, and it's not even about the beach...but the reference is relevant anyhow. This felt different because I don't write about people sharing this in the context of sexual/romantic relationships much. I wanted to write from Konnor's perspective because I relate to them more, but Tori hasn't been able to speak as much so she deserved to tell her side. This story takes place between Slow Burn and Trains.

I guessed the stakes were lower with Elena--that was why it never turned into any sort of conflict. We were not "just" friends, but we were only friends. I stared out the window while I tried carefully to choose the right words.

"I do like it," I insisted.  "Just not..."  I couldn't explain it properly, maybe not without seeming hurtful.  And that was the funny thing--Konnor was a badass about everything else imaginable.  When they first started showing up at karaoke, I could not take my eyes off of them, and not just because their hair was this shade called "enchanted forest" at the time.  They didn't just pretend to be full of confidence--they really were.  In fact I'm not sure I realized how much of my own poise was an act until I met someone who really was that self-assured without being arrogant.  One time a drunk asshole swinging a bottle of Corona stomped up to us in the middle of a conversation, demanded of them "Are you a man or a woman?!?" and got right in their face.  My size can intimidate people and that keeps a certain percentage of bullies and assholes away, but this guy was plastered, lit, etc. and barely even noticed me.  Before I could intervene, Konnor sort of whisper-bellowed (who knew that was possible?) "No" and looked him straight in the eye, never wavering.  Despite being short and slender, they still managed to scare the guy off.  I was impressed and kinda turned on if I'm honest.

Konnor had this hard-earned self-confidence that felt cemented and impenetrable, except when this whole heart thing came into the mix.  If I did not love it--if it did not change my life the way it did theirs, they took it hard.  They tried not to show it, but it was no use.  I could see through the facade.  They were still kind of wounded from exes who didn't care for the heart thing at all.  The particular one who laughed at them came up a lot.  They let this girl make fun of them many times just because they wanted to bring a stethoscope to bed--of all the things one could want!  Sometimes I wanted to find that girl...woman, I guess, and punch her in the damn face, but that would solve nothing.  Konnor stayed with her too long--that was part of the problem.  Learning that being alone by yourself is much better than being alone with someone else is hard.  I'd been there, too, and was in no position to judge.  

They were turned away from me, so I scooted over to them, grabbing them around the waist.  "Darling you're my, my, my...lover," I sang softly.  This elicited a giggle.  

"She's singing Taylor Swift to me again," they said to the wall.  

"But it's accurate," I insisted.  "You just startled me, is all," I continued.

"I just wanted to listen," they said flatly.

"And that's great but I was in the middle of a nightmare..."

"...and you pushed me away."

"I didn't even realize it was you.  Also, the chest piece was kind of cold.  Just, make sure you let me know ahead of time."

"I mean that's fair.  I think I'm more embarrassed than anything else.  I was just all caught up in the moment."

They turned to face me, their eyes looking puffy.  I kissed them hard, then pulled them into my embrace, their head resting between my breasts.  That felt pretty fucking amazing.

"Your heart's fast," I thought I heard them say, but my mind was drifting. 

"You are so consumed with this," I said.  "Elena is, too, and y'all should make it a part of your friendship.  I don't think I will ever understand like she does."

"YOU are my person.  I fantasize every day about you.  You're everything."

I felt myself blush.  "But I can't really be everything.  You can't be everything to me, either.  I'm still going to go online and talk to virtual strangers who love Taylor as much as I do.  You will never get this deep into the lore.  I will not ask you to read all the paragraphs I write about her."  I laughed.  I could never get into their Joy Division records, either.  Ian Curtis being all white-boy emo and wailing into the microphone about dead souls and isolation did not appeal to me in the least.  I didn't bring this up, though, because to each their own and that sort of thing.

"It's not the same," they said.  "We've talked about that before.  This is life.  This is how I feel close to someone.  This is something I've loved before you even knew who Taylor Swift was.  Before you even knew about singers and songwriters and music at all."

"Ok but it's not like you were born knowing what a stethoscope was, either.  I will share it with you like I do with her.  I...think a lot of the novelty has worn off for me.  It seemed exciting until I kind of...got over it?"  Was I talking too much?  It was the truth, though.  Didn't they deserve that, even if it was hard to hear?  If they announced they were throwing out all the stethoscopes and just wanted to use their ear instead, that would be fine by me.

They sat up in the bed and looked squarely at me.

"How does it make you feel now?  Compared to when we first started doing it?  Compared to doing it with Elena?"

This felt like a lot of questions I didn't have clear cut answers to, all coming at me like dominos.  Didn't they know I didn't spend this much time thinking about it?  Like, I could be going through any given day and all of a sudden my brain goes "Salt air, and rust on your door..." apropos of nothing at all.  Their brain didn't do that, and why would it?

"The way it feels now is just...it's not different from cuddling, except there's less cuddling...at first with Elena it was like wow, this is something no one's wanted before, and that was really cool.  I felt special.  And then came you, and I felt that much more special because you wanted me.  But then it was like ok....I'd kind of had my fill of it?  Sometimes I kinda just wanted you to eat me out?  But I don't mind sharing it."  I could have kept explaining, and I almost did, but I was afraid they would spend enough time overanalyzing those words.  "But Elena lives and breathes it like you do."

I felt their hand rubbing my back, then making little shapes and tracing letters.  "Elena is aroace."

"And?"

"It's just...does she really get it?  I don't want to make it sound like I think aroace people are cold and passionless."

"Then don't, babe."  I kissed their forehead a few times.

"I'm not taking my binder off for anyone but you.  Or a doctor if I absolutely have to."

"Is that what you're really worried about? Just tell her.  She'll understand that.  She gets dysphoric."

"It's kind of hard to ignore that part of your body with this. You know, when I first met y'all--I thought y'all were a couple.  The way you were so in sync, the way you looked at each other, all of the leaning and hugging...I was so jealous."

I laughed, and felt something well up in my stomach and travel all the way to my head in a rush.  How would it feel if glitter rushed all through your body?  Probably not this good.  Actually, probably terrible and you'd have some special sort of GERD.  But in my head it was luxurious, multi-colored glitter.  Konnor was jealous??

"Talk to her about your boundaries.  She'll tell you hers.  Once all that's ironed out, I bet you two will develop your own chemistry.  Just a hunch.  But right now you have to get up."  I dug my finger in their belly button, which they kind of hated.

Their eyes widened as they slapped my hand away.  "But I don't have work today."

"But it's 9:00 already.  If we're going to the zoo, I wanna go before it's too hot."

"Oh!" they exclaimed, jumping out of the bed in a hurry, tossing sheets and blankets and the stuffed axolotl out of the way.  "I'm so sorry--I forgot!" they yelled from the tiny bathroom across the room.  I watched them from the back as they scrambled into the shower.  I saw a flash of their little ass before it disappeared behind the curtain.  I wanted to squeeze it so badly.  And later, I would.  I rolled over and stared at the popcorn ceiling, the disagreement all but gone from my mind.  I felt so happy I laughed out loud at nothing at all.

[winterandwords]

✍🏼 Word find tag (hardy, wall, shrill, punched)

Thanks to @somethingclevermahogony for the tag!

📝 Search for the given words in your WIP. If your WIP doesn't have a word, you can use a variation on it or a word with a similar meaning.

These are from Name From Nowhere (and I cheated like crazy out of necessity)...

HARDY

We couldn’t have planned for this absence of potential witnesses, but maybe we hoped for it hard enough that we made it happen.

WALL

Each break in the wall is a window, a chance to observe, to make sure resources aren’t being wasted on whoever would be breathing their last on the other side if the place was open and functional.

SHRILL SHARP

My knees look too sharp through the thin grey trousers they put me in before letting me out. Everything is bones. I’m a skeleton. I’m a bruise.

PUNCHED

She looks concerned. Actually concerned. Not the thinly-veiled pity version that makes me want to punch people.

Tagging @eyes-talks-ocs, @gaslightwestern, @i-can-even-burn-salad and @indecentpause if you'd like to do it, with an open tag for anyone else who wants to join in.

The words to search your WIP for are food, water, air, and warmth 🩷

Reblogs, replies etc on my tag posts are always welcome, but if you're doing this tag yourself, please make your own post instead of using mine to start a reblog chain.

[lesbiten]

the more i think about bristles death the more absolutely depressed i become

[vulpinesaint]

had a line like "the pews had no padding; it felt like too obvious of a metaphor. to worship god is to live in discomfort." and he left a comment like "good line :)" professor wallace Please

mkay not to be like. a little insane or anything. but god i've been going crazy over religion (catholicism) and blood lately. did anyone else drink blood as worship every week since they were seven. was anyone else inundated with images of open wounds as holy. is anyone else consumed by the thought of holding onto a crucifix tightly enough for the edges of it to draw blood. i turned in a poem about drowning in communion wine in an empty church while bleeding from crucifix-inflicted hand wounds and trying to talk to god and my creative writing professor gave me extremely normal critiques i feel like i'm losing my mind

[talaok]

I’ve dreamed of this (pt. V)

Summary: You are a part of the BAU, and for the longest time you and Dr. Spencer Reid had been best of friends, even when it was clear to everyone else, and at times to you, that you should be more than that, and when something almost happens on a night out with the team, everything is destined to change.

This is a double pov story (each chapter will be alternated between y/n's and spencer's pov)

Chapter summary:  You wake up just to realize what has happened.

warnings:  TORTURE (cuts, blood, restraints etc.)

<if you want to be added to the tag-list comment or write to me>

previous part | next part

Y/n

fuck

there was a lancinating pain in the back of your head,

you could feel it pulsating through your skull, stretching your skin, and tearing it apart.

You wondered if your brain was fine, if the pain was a good sign or if it just meant your skull was cracked in two.

god you hoped not,

that would have been an awful way to die.

the fact that you were still able to think was probably a good sign.

Your mouth was dry, you could feel your tongue grazing your palate, your teeth, all arid.

you really needed some water,

or the ability to salivate back again

ah!

another shock of pain struck your head.

You instinctively went to reach for it just to realize you couldn't.

what?

Oh

Fuck

Your heart jump-started, beating so fast you could feel the thumps in your eardrums.

You opened your eyes and were immediately blinded by the white light in front of you.

Not that white light, you hoped.

You blinked again, your eyes frantically starting to move, trying to see something, anything, to understand, to plan.

finally, as you opened them once again, they focused.

Some black spots soiled your sight but you now could see the room, the big, cold light on top of you, the wooden walls, the metal shelves full of stuff, drills, saws, screwdrivers, and wires, all thrown messily onto them.

You could smell the thick air, full of dirt and dust, slowly entering your lungs.

You turned your head, there was a staircase to your left, but you couldn't see it really well, beside your spot, the room was dark, there were no windows or light shining through them.

You had no idea what time it was

or were you were

or how long you still had to live.

You tugged at the restraints, the same ones, you realized, that had caused the bruisings you had seen on the victims,

victims, just like you

you wondered if you were gonna be the next one,

if next time,

on that board,

it was gonna be your photo,

your wrists,

your ankles,

and the purple marks on them.

no

You couldn't think about that now,

you had to find a way to get out,

or at least to survive.

You looked down at your body,

you were laying on a cold metal table, seemingly a doctor's one, your legs and arms were tied with rope, you couldn't move if not by inches,

you still had your dress on, but no shoes, probably to make it harder for you to escape.

There was dirt on your knees, and some bruises on your hands,

You had fought, you were starting to remember,

He had struck you in the head from behind and you had fallen, you were supposed to faint, you had understood it once you looked up, and the rough man in front of you looked surprised, and angry.

You had reached for your gun, but he had kicked it away, and once you got up, simultaneously trying to communicate with the team, he had blocked your punch, and manhandled you, forcing you by your wrists until your back was to him and his arm was around your throat.

You didn't remember anything after that.

just the dark,

and the cold.

And now there you were.

You could have ruminated about the choices that brought you to that position, about your stupid idea, about Hotch agreeing to it, about the team not arriving in time,

You could have blamed yourself and everyone else,

you could have been angry

you could have been scared,

but now wasn't the time,

you needed to get out of here and point a gun to this bastard's head while listing his rights first.

You looked to your right,

there was a table, and you weren't particularly happy about what was on it.

5 diffrent knives laid there, perfectly clean, sterilized looking, standing out in the completely dirty room.

They were arranged in a perfect line, from biggest to smallest, and you could see each blade, the sharp, terrifying edges.

They looked so cold, so cutting that you could already feel them on your skin, just like the other victims, he was gonna cut your chest,

your stomach,

your arms,

your legs,

and then finally,

one of those knives was gonna slash your throat,

ending it all.

ending you.

"hello sweetheart"

you flinched, your head snapping towards the door, towards the voice.

“You woke up” A large shadow spoke, its voice dark and low.

"It took you a while" he stepped closer, into the light, and your heart started racing.

He was the same man who had attacked you, the same green piercing eyes, the same wrinkles, the same unshaved beard, the same buzzcut, and finally, the same limp,

but he was diffrent,

he wasn't angry anymore,

he was smiling,

an unsettling, ominous grin stained his face,

and as much as you wanted to tell him just how much of a bastard he was, and that he had no idea who he had taken, you stopped yourself,

you needed to survive,

and to do that,

you had to play along,

give him what he wanted until the team arrived,

until he was in handcuffs,

and you had the power again.

"I was scared for a moment that I'd hit you too hard," he said, stroking your hair, as he walked behind you.

His hands were gentle, but there was something in his voice, a malice, a darkness lurking through it.

"I'm happy you woke up"he stroked your cheek "because we get to have fun now" he smiled "Do you like to have fun?"  

"I do" you tried speaking confidently, but the fear in the back of your head, that quiet voice telling you that the team was never gonna find you, that this was gonna be it, that you were never gonna be able to see anyone again, not your mom, not your sister, not the team, not spencer, just this man, and his callous hands on you,

that voice, was making it harder for you.

You needed to focus,

all the worries didn't matter now,

they just distracted you from what was really important,

understanding what he wanted.

"oh you do?" he chuckled "is that why you sell your body?" he didn't stop looking straight at you, but his arm reached beside him, picking up one of the knives, the smallest one, you noticed.

"is that what you do with all those men?" he smirked, as he brought the knife to your chin, grazing it with the blade.

a shiver threatened to shake your whole body.

sure it was the smallest one,

but it was still a knife,

and it was still sharp.

"huh?" he asked, irritated "you just have fun?"

You were having troubles understanding what was the best answer to give, what he wanted to hear,

the fear was getting stronger, and your brain foggier.

"n-no"

"oh so you don't have fun?" the cold knife traced your jawline

you gulped "no"

"then why do you do it?" he asked, "why are you a whore?"

"I- I had no choice"

He tsked "now see, that's not true" he moved the knife to your neck, and you felt your eyes wet, as Spence's voice invaded your brain, "if damage is inflicted to the carotid artery, which carries blood to the brain, it takes no longer than a few minutes to lose enough blood for death to occur" he had said, rambling on about something, and you already knew that of course, but still, you had listened, you had nodded, and you had said something like "at least it's quick",

but you were starting to rethink your comment as you tried not to breathe to limit your throat's movements.

maybe quick wasn't better, because if they say that before you die, your whole life flashes in front of you, well then you wanted to have the most time possible to relive it all, to see everything again, the bad, the good, the hurt and the happiness.

The people.

You wanted to have enough time to say goodbye to each of them, as you saw them again one last time.

You didn't want it quick,

you wanted time,

time, you were starting to suspect you weren't gonna have.

"you always have a choice" the blade was on your collarbones "and yours was to sell yourself" now in the center of your chest, right before your dress started "to let men pay you to do whatever they want to you" he looked at you, and you could only see rage in his pupils " to use you like a toy" he stopped the knife "like an object" he hissed, before with a swift movement, he swayed the knife, cutting your skin.

You bit down a cry.

he was a sadistic killer,

he took pleasure in seeing you in pain,

but if you didn't give him that,

he would have had to try harder until you did,

which meant you were gonna get hurt, but you were gonna buy time.

"oh you're tough " he smiled, making you uneasy "aren't you sweetheart?"

"You're right" you whispered "I- I did have a choice" you agreed with him "It's an excuse"

He smiled even more widely, like he was proud, not of you, but of himself "good" he nodded "we're already making progress" he said, slashing you again.

You could see the slanted cut next to the other one, the red blood running down the wound, your opened skin, right in front of your eyes.

"but even if you realized that" he tilted his head to the side, as, with a smile he cut you again, making you shut your eyes, as you closed your hands into fists "it doesn't change what you've done" he grabbed your face unexpectedly, his fingers squishing your cheeks "what you are." he said lowly.

"I-I know," you said, "I'm sorry" you apologized, speaking to him like he was sane, like he didn't need to be locked into a mental hospital and personally pay for your therapy for the rest of your life.

" I made a mistake" you whispered "I shouldn't have become a prostitute" you were having trouble speaking, you had talked to thousands of criminals in your life, but apparently, it was easier to do when they weren't pointing a knife at you "It-it's wrong"

"yes" he agreed "yes it is" he moved the knife to your upper arm,  "it's wrong" he put pressure on the knife, making you wince "it's disgusting" he growled, as he slowly, excruciatingly slowly, started cutting the skin, a deep and long overflowing red line, scarred your arm, from your bicep, to your elbow.

You hadn't even noticed it, but as blood spilled from the wound, tears had spilled from your eyes.

please stop

please it hurts

I can't do it.

that's what you wanted to say,

but you couldn't,

you needed time,

because in less than five minutes the team was gonna arrive,

morgan was gonna kick down the door,  Spence was gonna free you from the restraints and then hug you, and you could have let go, because he was gonna catch you, and you were gonna be safe in his arms, like you had been countless times before.

You needed to believe that, you had to, or you were never gonna survive.

"What, it hurts?" he made fun of you "you don't like pain?" he cut you again, this time a smaller one "ironic, seeing how much you caused" he gritted,

he was getting angrier, scarier,

"how do you think your dad must have felt when he found out?" he asked turning to the table beside him, and after some consideration taking another knife.

Your blood chilled, when he turned around

it wasn't the biggest one, but the one before that,

a raw wooden handle and a serrated shiny blade,

the light above you reflected on it.

"how do you think," he said, grazing your leg with it "he felt when he found out that his perfect little girl" he looked at you disgustedly " had become a whore" he spat out "a disgusting slut" he said through gritted teeth, before taking the knife and harshly swaying it vertically down your thigh.

"ah!" you yelled, not able to keep it in anymore

He chuckled, clearly happy with the reaction.

"I-I'm sorry" you tried the same strategy from before, tears now streaming down your face "I'm sorry I swear"

"I bet your dad is too," he said, stomping closer to your face to put the knife against your throat again "I bet he's gonna be even more sorry when he finds out you're dead" he whispered against your face, and in that moment, as he was inches from you, as the knife was right against your skin,

you felt yourself give up,

you felt the hope leave your body,

you were gonna die,

just another FBI agent killed on the field,

you were never gonna go to Disneyland,

you were never gonna swim with dolphins,

you were never gonna get married,

you were never gonna have children,

you were never gonna experience love, real, full love,

you were gonna die, with a million things yet to do,

you were gonna die,

alone,

a forgotten memory, in the back of people's minds.

"FBI, HANDS WHERE I CAN SEE THEM"

You gasped, as you saw his face fall.

After the loud bang of the door being kicked down, the room got flooded with light.

You turned your head, and the flashlights blinded you immediately, your eyes shutting close.

"THROW THE WEAPON TO THE GROUND"

It was Derek, you realized, a smile creeping on your lips, as incredulous tears filled your eyes.

He was there,

You weren't imagining it.

he was there,

they had done it.

"if you shoot me I'll kill her" the man beside you said, holding the knife firmer against your throat,

but you weren't scared,

not anymore,

The team was here,

your family was here,

Spencer was here,

and just the knowledge of his presence in the room made you calmer, because even if you were gonna die,

you weren't alone anymore,

but with the person, you now realized, you wanted to be with,

with the person, that if it came down to it, whose side you wanted to die by,

him.

"DROP THE WEAPON" Emily now urged, making you smile wider.

"MARK THERE'S NO WAY OUT OF THIS DROP THE WEAPON AND NO ONE IS GONNA GET HURT" Hotch spoke.

Mark,

that was his name.

You saw his eyes shift, as he glanced between you and the dozen agents in front of him,

you saw his brain calculating possibilities, and then, just as you did,

you saw him give up.

He gripped the knife and with a quick move, swayed it against your throat.

bang

You shut your eyes, and then you heard a thud, followed by some movement.

"y/n"

You opened your eyes

"Spence" you whispered

Your eyes filled again, and he glanced at you before focusing on the restraints, freeing your arms in a matter of seconds.

"y/n" he murmured again

"Spence" you sobbed, as he took you in his arms, holding you tightly.

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taglist (if you want to be added comment or write to me.)

@jazzerbelle14 @nerdory10   @milivanili99   @cyb3rdollq  @ssababe​   @lou-the-confused-bisexual​ ​   @simpforspence​   @loviseamms  @gojutsu​ ​  @youbrokemelikeallyourpromises​   @baucriminalsstuff​     @fall-myriad​   @twelfthnightorwhatyouwill1998  @eevee0722​   @simrah1012   @queenofnothing07​   @ashray07   @wrenreid​    @moonmark98   @iloveyou-iknoww    @swxxtsour   @donttamethebeasts    @s1errasposts    @the-sun-died-out    @vthe​    @cherrypie5​    @hellooitsrose    @soundsprettyhumantome    @rrrogertaylor    @lilicy-secrets    @dankfarrick29    @lex13cm​    @zuckker-blog     @munson1968     @maybanksluvr    @halsteadssneakylink    @yourbloodyqueen​    @orangebitchsworld    @melinewton54  

[artanddaddyissues]

*cough*Are you sure that’s me stalking and not my doppelgänge?? / jk

Am doing great, besides the fact i am only going to be here until 3rd of April. WHY AM I IN MY ARCANA PHASE AGAIN AT SUCH A LATE TIME HHH.

Also, I might request some angst headcanons. Maybe someone being dead? Idk shha

Okay 1. ITS OKAY I joined late too, welcome to the club sis 💕

And 2. You. Are. Evil. But I will definitely do some angst for you. I secretly hope you CRY when you read this angst.

What the M6 do, when you die

Heads up: gender neutral pronouns for reader, M/C is yellow, very angsty, read at your own risk, mentions of mental health issues (anxiety, depression, etc…)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"not... again..."

absolutely distraught, can no longer sleep, eat, think for himself, walk, breathe... etc.

Half his heart has gone, for good. Many times he contemplates sacrificing himself or other people in exchange for you to come back.

"I can bring them back again, right?"

shop closes for an extended amount of time, the baker starts to worry about him, the others regularly check in on him. He spends most of his days in his gate and the realms in hopes to contact you.

It takes him almost a year to leave the shop and care for himself again.

He curses everything and becomes pretty hostile for a while. Trust issues, anger, depression, everything sky rockets in the worst ways possible, and you aren't there to bring him back to his old self.

Asra needed you all the time. He missed your laugh, your touch, your aura. Living life without your presence made him feel like there was no point to living.

forgets how to function, in the worst way possible.

"Julian, when was the last time you ate?" "I can't remember...”

Walking disaster. He gets drunk more often, there isn’t a moment when he’s sober.

Asra checks in on him at least once a week since he knows how bad Julian can get.

He closes his clinic and tries to stay hidden from the others. He pushes everyone away, in fear of losing someone else.

This isn’t the first time he’s lost someone but, this one hurts the most.

You were the air he breathed. He missed giving you dramatic, romantic speeches and other little things.

He tries to tell Asra to teach him magic, in hopes of contacting you again through the magical realms, “maybe the fools realm.” “The realms are dangerous without-“ “I’ll take any risk to see them again.”

He looks at the collection of love letters, paintings, drawings, photos, anything to keep your face engraved into his mind.

Vesuviua mourns with her. Nadia has been such an incredible leader and so the city mourns when she loses you. I’m a way, the city lost you too, you did a great deal of good for the people of Vesuviua.

“I’ll find you in another lifetime, my dear.”

Like Asra, she knows how the magical realms work. Instead of sleeping each night, she travels to the realms to try and find you. She swears, she's getting close.

Everyone around her is understanding. the entire city saw how incredibly happy you both were together.

She is back to being alone again. Truly alone. Yes she has the others but you... you were there for her every moment of every day. Every breath she took, you were beside her. She had almost forgotten what is was like to be alone, thanks to you.

She dreads waking up and is always in a bad mood after another unsuccessful night of trying to find you.

Has a memorial statue of you in the gardens, facing her private balcony and she cries every time she looks at it.

"I need you back..."

Sobbing for weeks, never leaving his wing, punching holes through his walls, not taking care of himself...

He’s not angry after a few months but sad. He was very angry in the beginning, when he felt like he could have done something, but you can only convince yourself you’re useful so many times.

6 months after your passing, he treks to your home town to hold a proper burial for you.

The people around him in Vesuvia find it hard to see him like this. He could be a threat to anybody but they understand how much you affected him, so they all offer as much support as they can.

You taught him how to be a better person and without you reassuring him each day, he can only hold onto your words and do things he thought was right

he tried his hardest to stay strong in public but it was hard. He wanted to look strong always but the first few weeks were rough.

"Me and Pepi miss you... so much."

She buries you around her cottage, in a secluded corner. She watches every day, the tree you were buried under, grow and prosper. Little white and yellow flowers bloom in the spring and last the whole year.

Nadia gives her as much time off as she needs.

Now, Pfeels completely useless without you though.

The little things hurt the most. Waking up to you changing Pepi's litter, cooking only for one person again, not having any help in the garden, seeing all your clothes in the closet...

"It's okay Pepi..."

Julian visits almost every night for the first few months. He always comes ready to tend to Portia and make her feel as well as she can feel.

"This isn't happening"

he spirals into a long, very angry stage of denial. He can't accept the fact that you're gone when it feels like he just got you.

He makes a vow to himself, to never get attached to another person again in fear of losing them.

he blames himself all the time. "Muriel stop..." "I could have done something.

He can never go back to the person he used to be, because you changed him for the better but now you aren't around to see him anymore. And that kills him inside

Asra is over almost every night.

Inanna has had to pull Muriel out of bed for weeks on end.

He knows you would want him to continue living but its too hard without you there.

He and Asra venture through the realms to try and find you. Muriel is determined.

[misasimagines]

jjk characters when you’re scared of a bug

included characters: Yuji, Megumi, Maki, Nobara, Gojo, Nanami, Choso rating: sfw warnings: bug mentions but I avoid any concrete details because ya girl is Terrified of Bugs! I use flowery language to refer to them also because again! ya girl is Terrified of Bugs!

Yuji:

will kill bugs for you if you’re scared! But he’s not the best at catching them if they move around. He’ll go and punch the wall and then you look and it’s running away and he’s screaming because it’s coming at him.

He might accidentally put a hole in the drywall because he slapped down on it too hard. Like yes, it’s dead, but he’s also now bleeding and you are not getting your security deposit back.

Slaps gnats/flies/etc out of the air but also ends up knocking things down when he does- basically, Yuji is at 110% power and 2% environmental awareness. You need to stay out of the way.

If seeing a buggie gets you paranoid and freaked, he’ll investigate every corner of the now-quarantined room and will be using DIY bug-repellents until you feel safe. He doesn’t make fun of you for being scared or paranoid. He agrees they’re freaky! He only can be brave because he has you to protect!

Megumi:

He’ll catch and release, he won’t kill, but he will make sure it is deposited far enough way that it won’t be coming back easily.

He thinks you’re a little ridiculous for being so scared but he won’t tease you about it. Maybe at first, but then he sees your eyes are all glossy and your shoulders at all tensed up and he’s like, okay, okay, I got it, don’t worry about it.

He just has you leave the room and then warns you when he’s going to walk by with the horrible beast trapped in a cup. He also, and I gag to say this, would not be afraid of even touching the horrible monsters with his hands if necessary. Could Not Be Me.

Megumi will search around the room at your behest to make sure there are no other creeps lurking about. You probably have to point out all the areas you’re most afraid or else he’ll only look in the more obvious spots. He’ll even go out and get bug-repellent/killer so you stop pacing around and jumping whenever your hair brushes against your bare skin....

Maki:

If she knows you’re freaked by bugs, she kills them before you even know they’re there. She isn’t bothered by them, but she also doesn’t like them in her home. They aren’t paying rent or cooking her dinner, they don’t get to stay. 

Keeps a heavy duty bug killing spray on hand and whenever she sees/hears you fleeing from a room because you’ve been ambushed, she’s marching right in there and killing it asap. She prefers spraying them to hitting them with her hand or a shoe or something because it’s just cleaner and she doesn’t want to end up with holes in her walls like Yuji’s place.

If you’re paranoid about it afterwards, she’ll help you replace the sheets, vacuum, dust, etc so you clean up the place rather than just scoot stuff around checking out the place.

She will tease you for being scared, but she’s not mean about it...most of time. She’ll say that, knowing you, your fears are correct and you probably could get your ass beat by a gnat-

Nobara:

She says she’s not scared, she’ll do her duty to protect you, you’re too baby to take care of yourself but that’s okay because she’s there- you never said it could fly!!! She’s screeching and slamming the door shut behind her and announcing that you will never go into that room again.

She has to pull her hair back, suit up, shoe in one hand, spray in the other, and then she’s bursting through the door and you hear the thump of the shoe hitting everything and anything, the spray coating every possible surface, and Nobara’s battle cry. It’s dead! You need a new lamp!

They’re scary, she isn’t so much scared of them as she is afraid of where they are when she can’t see them. It makes sense, totally. She doesn’t tease you so much as she likes holding it over your head as something she does for you. Not in a mean spirited way, she just likes that you rely on her for this!

She’ll help clean up the area and make sure nothing else is hiding around, but ultimately she’s calling someone else over to do the job of exterminator (probably Yuji and Megumi...)

Gojo:

He sees you’re scared and puts on an act like Every Single Time. Honestly, it kind of snaps you out of being freaked. He jumps up and he’s like, where’s the villain who’s scared my darling?? and then he’s grabbing a shoe and stomping into the afflicted room.

He kills it, makes sure you hear the sound of it being beaten to death, and then checks around to make sure there’s nothing else before he lets you back into the room.

It’s in his nature to tease you, but you’re so upset and uncomfortable that he reels it in. He just makes a dramatic speech about saving and protecting you and then gives you a hug and asks if you want to get out of the house for a bit.

Takes you out for ice cream or something so you can relax and then when you go back, he might have called in a maid service to clean up so you could feel comfortable knowing that everything was bug-free.

Nanami:

At first, he kind of thinks you need to get over it and take care of it yourself. But then he realizes that it’s just one of those phobias that isn’t something you can rationalize, and he steps up.

Prefers catching and releasing them, but if you’re freaked out, he’ll just kill it to appease you. It doesn’t bother him that much. What bothers him is that how did this stupid bug get into his impeccably clean apartment?

He doesn’t tease you about it, he doesn’t make a big deal about it at all. The lack of energy he puts into it helps you calm down a lot easier. Just another day, not some cosmic retribution or curse on from a vengeful goddess.

Coincidentally always suggests a cleaning day after an enemy has been spotted, and he always focuses his attention on the room it invaded while letting you take care of other rooms.

Choso:

He doesn’t have a problem with bugs, but he does have a problem with it scaring you and that means it has to be punished. He does feel a little guilt at having to kill the terrible brutish monster on your bathroom ceiling, he thinks about it’s family, but then he kills it and flushes it because it knew the risk it was taking wandering in here... This is the tragic outcome.

It’s not that deep babe-

Cleans the place, like with the heaviest duty cleansers you have, so there are no remnants of it. Like Yuji, he’ll mix together some DIY repellents, but unlike Yuji who would google what to do, Choso just throws together things that he’s certain will kill bugs- and maybe also you guys! Don’t mix bleach with anything!!

If he catches the infiltrator first, he will take the chance to catch and release it. It hasn’t scared you yet so no crimes have been commit.

[babyboibucky]

Kiss Me Goodnight

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Your anxiety has nothing against Bucky and his warm embrace.

Word Count: 979

Warnings: Anxiety attack, insomnia

A/N: I couldn’t sleep last night due to anxiety and remembered the fluff prompt that @squishybabies sent about Bucky singing you to sleep. Obviously, I had to write it down lmfao. Thanks for the lovely prompt, babes!!! Was supposed to make it a part of the White Noise universe but decided to make it into a different oneshot 🥰 Btw, I linked a song here so please listen to it when you reach that part for the full experience lol

❣️And btw important announcement! I will be closing my tag lists from today onwards BUT if you’ve requested to be added in the past and I haven’t added you yet, please do let me know via ASK (because I’m a messy bitch who can’t seem to keep track of shit and I apologize for it). All tag list concerns (removal, username change, switch to a different tag list, etc.) please let me know through asks as well so I won’t miss out on it. Thank you and I appreciate you all for the support and feedback! 🥰

MAIN MASTERLIST

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

The clock hanging on the wall at the foot of the bed seemed to be taunting you. It’s past three in the morning and yet you were still wide awake.

You’d fallen asleep for quite a while, maybe a little more than an hour but the nightmare you had quickly stirred you awake. It wasn’t real of course, some details were blurry but whatever happened terrified you enough to leave you shaking from fear and anxiety.

Bucky was fast asleep beside you, facing you with his arm tucked beneath the pillow. You smiled at the sight of him in deep slumber, chest rising and falling at a comforting pace that calmed your nerves for a brief moment.

You didn’t want to wake him up despite your discomfort, as much as you wanted to seek solace in his arms, Bucky deserved a peaceful sleep.

The man hadn’t been sleeping well and now that he was relaxed and lightly snoring, you didn’t want to take that away from him.

Carefully, you sat up and pushed yourself out of bed. Your knees felt wobbly when you stood up, feeling your anxiety creep up on you. When you headed out of the bedroom, you tried to be silent but unbeknownst to you, Bucky heard and saw you slip out of the room.

It was drizzling outside, the cold air sending chills down your spine as you padded into the living room. Sitting down on the couch, you heaved out a deep breath and brought your knees up, hugging them. You closed your eyes and remembered the breathing exercise that Bucky taught you, hoping it’d help relax your worries away.

Inhale, two three four and hold, two three four five six seven and exhale two three four five six seven eight.

Your exhales came out shaky and you struggled to focus on your counting. The nightmare you had was all a blur and yet it left you feeling afraid. It frustrated you even more that you couldn’t snap out of your thoughts— worries and fears and everything else in between— they were taking over you mercilessly.

The sound of the rain faded into the background until all that you heard were your thoughts. It was silent yet deafening, it drowned all your senses until you felt numb and completely out of touch.

Clammy hands and cold feet, the rapid thumping of your heart, all of which were signs of an upcoming attack. You blinked away the tears threatening to spill from your eyes and took a deep yet difficult breath in, your chest constricting as if someone punched all the air out of your lungs.

And then a hand landed on your shoulder, its warmth quickly pulling you back to the surface.

“You’re okay, baby.”

Bucky stood behind the couch and bent down to press a kiss on your forehead, quickly easing you of your worries. You took his hand in yours and kissed his knuckles, keeping it in your grasp as Bucky walked around the couch to sit beside you.

“Want to talk about it?” He asked, caressing your face with his vibranium hand.

You let out a breathy chuckle, “No need.” You said. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

Bucky smiled, “Don’t be. You should’ve woken me earlier. Come back to bed with me?” He asked sweetly.

You sighed, “Not sure if I can go back to sleep.”

“You will. Come on, let’s get you tucked in.” He said and tugged you up on your feet and pulling you to his side as you both headed back to the bedroom.

The sheets were a bit warm when you laid back down, providing you some sense of comfort. Bucky removed his shirt before sliding in next to you, pulling you into an embrace before bringing the blanket up your bodies.

He pressed his lips against your forehead, letting you use his metal arm as a pillow and wrapping it to cradle your head. His flesh arm gripped your waist, pulling you closer to his body.

Bucky was warm and heavy and grounding.

You felt Bucky’s lips move against your forehead, his chest vibrating as he softly began to hum a familiar tune. You smiled as you listened, focusing your mind on Bucky’s voice and the feeling of his heartbeat beneath your palm resting on his chest.

His hums slowly died down and you thought that Bucky fell back to sleep. But then his lips began to move again, but this time he was singing.

Put your head on my shoulder. Hold me in your arms, baby.

Bucky wasn’t a singer, but he wasn’t terrible at it. His voice was raspy from sleep and sometimes the lyrics would come out breathy but it was more than enough to ease away your distress. The more you listened to Bucky’s voice, the safer you felt. Another smile tugged at your lips, wider this time because you could feel your worries start to fade.

Squeeze me oh so tight, show me that you love me too.

Bucky tightened his arms around you, allowing you to inhale his scent as he continued to sing you to sleep.

Put your lips next to mine, dear. Won’t you kiss me once, baby?

A pair of lips in between your eyes, a warm hand on the small of your back.

Just a kiss goodnight, maybe. You and I will fall in love.

The nightmare long forgotten and the anxiety gone from your body. As Bucky’s voice continued to echo in the air, you could feel your entire body relax against his, your eyes drooping close as sleep finally began to take over.

“I love you, doll.” Bucky whispered, kissing your nose.

You hummed, already close to dozing off, but before allowing yourself to completely surrender to sleep, you whispered your response against Bucky’s neck.

“I love you more.”

-

Everything Bucky Tag List:

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[ynscrazylife]

i’m a simple gal...... i like seeing natasha being overprotective and a little homicidal SO could i please request some cute mentor!almost itherlynat x reader? maybe reader gets badly hurt during training or someone on the team hurts her feelings? mamabear stabs? 🥺

More Than A Mentor | n.r fluff fic

Summary: After an accident, Y/N realizes her and Natasha’s relationship goes beyond mentor and mentee.

Authors Note: Thank you for requesting! I’ve missed writing Marvel/Natasha.

MCU Masterlist #1 | MCU Masterlist #2 | Main Masterlist

Request to be on a Taglist (or multiple) here! (Taglists are at the end of the fic)

PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me first and b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.

header c @/marvelocks

Natasha was not an easy mentor, and Y/N learned that quickly. She was understanding and patient, yes, but she also knew when to push Y/N and went to be a little stricter. 

The thing was, Y/N was never completely sure what side she’d get of her mentor at what time - though she found herself not having to worry about it after . . . The Accident. 

That disastrous day would go down in the team’s history, yet no one liked to talk about it. It was a day Y/N would never forget: it changed . . . everything.

It was one of the rare days that Y/N wasn’t training with Natasha. She had a meeting with Fury so Steve filled in for her. Y/N was not accustomed to training with a super soldier, and had to quickly adjust (it didn’t make it any easier that he had his shield, too). 

She was doing well - at least, she wanted to think that she was - and so far had deflected almost every punch from Steve, managing to get one or two punches against him herself. 

Nonetheless, the air was knocked out of her when Steve slammed her against the mat. She grunted, angry only fueling the pain when she saw that stupid smirk on his face, and used that to her advantage; he wouldn’t expect her to recover so quickly (and in truth, neither did she) but she did it anyway, throwing all her weight against the Captain. She secured he legs around his waist like Natasha taught her and, using the strength in her legs and pushing his broad shoulders, just about managed to get herself out from being pinned on the mat. Now, though, they were both sorta sitting on the mat, so Y/N kneed him in the chest, pushing him down. 

“You’re good,” he whispered, just slightly out of breath, before he - seemingly without using any strength at all - threw her to the side where she rolled. 

Y/N cursed under her breath, getting her feet. It was impossible to win against a super-soldier! Think, Y/N, think, what did Natasha teach you? Cmon! 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Steve grabbing his shield, and got in a stance to either catch it or evade it - she hadn't decided yet - when yells distracted her. In her hyped up, adrenaline-pumped state, the first thing that came to Y/N’s mind was that someone was hurt. She was about to call of the training when a large, solid force smacked into her stomach, sending her flying into the air where she hit the wall, losing consciousness. 

Steve's eyes widened, not thinking it’d actually hit her, and jumped into action. “Who the hell screamed?” The blonde yelled as he ran to his fallen teammate. He carefully turned her on her back and looked her over for injuries, seeing bruises and bleeding starting to form on her stomach and ankle and her head bleeding. 

Bucky and Sam practically crashed inside the room, trying to beat each other. 

“He threatened me!” Sam exclaimed. 

“He tried to steal my metal arm!” Bucky defended. 

Both men came to a screeching halt when they digested the scene, though. Steve rolled his eyes at his idiotic friends and tried to put pressure on Y/N’s head wound. “Sam, get Bruce, please. Tell him to prepare med - and Bucky, get Natasha. She’ll want to be here,” he ordered, and the men nodded, guilty. 

Steve carefully picked Y/N up in his arms and hoisted her into the air, carrying her to med where Bruce and Helen were, Sam explaining the situation to them. Instantly, Helen jumped into action. She instructed Steve to lay Y/N down on one of the med’s beds and then ushered the men out of the room, where she then began grabbing various medical things and assessing Y/N’s injuries, instructing Bruce to hook her up to an IV.

Steve and Sam stood outside, not saying a word to each other, both pacing back and forth. They did not have to be silent for long, though, because pounding footsteps soon approached and the men looked up to see a very furious Natasha with Bucky trailing behind her. 

The redhead’s eyes fell onto the closed med doors and huffed, turning back to Steve. “I leave her with you for training one day and she gets hurt?!” She demanded, crossing her arms and glaring at him. 

Steve swallowed. “Nat, I-” He began to say, but was cut off. 

“What happened?” Natasha asked. 

Steve glanced up at her, first irritated when she asked him a question and then interrupted him whilst he was answering, but backed off when he saw the urgency, the nervousness in her eyes; she was scared. Scared that Y/N was really hurt and guilty. 

“We were training. I threw my shield at her, expecting her to catch it or duck . . . But Sam and Buck distracted her and it hit her,” he said, not wanting to throw his friends under the bus but also knowing he had to be truthful.

Natasha stood in place, processing the information. She took a breath, and had almost completely calmed down when Bucky decided to open his mouth.

“Y’know, if anything we tested her. What if someone yelled during a mission? Is she gonna get distracted then?” He mumbled, not really meaning it but wanting to spare him and Sam Natasha’s wrath.

Karma’s a bitch, though, because it did the exact opposite.

If you blinked you’d miss it: Natasha swiftly turned and pushed Bucky against the wall, pinning him there with his hands above his hand.

“Don’t you dare start blaming this on Y/N, you hear me?” She said in a low tone, glaring.

Bucky quickly nodded and Natasha released him. When she did, the door opened and Helen appeared.

“She’ll be okay—” Helen began, and Natasha let out a breath of relief, “—but she does need to be off training for at least a month. She has a concussion, broken ankle, and . . . the shield sort of stabbed her in her stomach.”

It took a couple moments for all four to digest this. Steve paled and Natasha’s crossed arms for tighter as she bit her lip. “Can I see her?” She asked.

“She’s still unconscious, but yes,” Helen answered, nodding.

Natasha almost failed to contain the gasp lurching to leave her throat when she saw Y/N, all bandaged up. The spy gulped and sat down beside her, not knowing what else to do other than sit there, and had no clue what she’d say when Y/N woke up because she sure as hell wasn’t leaving her. Thankfully, Natasha had some time to think it out.

Almost a day later and Natasha hadn’t left — Clint had convinced her to go sleep and eat for a couple hours, but that was it — and now, Y/N woke up.

“Ms. Romanoff?” Y/N murmured in a haze of confusion, squinting her eyes to see her mentor curled up in a chair, reading a big book.

Natasha snapped her head up and immediately sat forward, a smile covering her face. “Y/N! You’re awake? How are you feeling? And how many times have I told you to call me ‘Natasha’?”

Y/N blushed but nodded. “I’m fine, probably the painkillers’ doing though . . . How long was I out?” She said.

“Around a day,” Natasha answered.

“Did you . . . Did you stay here?” Y/N asked again, a little smaller this time, playing with her blanket.

“Most of it, yeah,” Natasha murmured, relaxing into the chair.

“Really? You’re-you’re not mad?” Y/N said, eyes wide and jaw dropped in surprised.

Natasha scrunched her face up. “What? No — of course I’m not mad! You’re like my daughter! How could I be—?”

Natasha was cut off by Y/N’s loud, yet thankful gasp. The teenager sat up and wrapped her arms around Natasha and, after a moment, Natasha smiled and wrapped her arms around her too.

Y/N truly was like her daughter, and mothers were always protective over their children.

Permanent Taglist: @natasharomanoffismywife @hehehehannahthings @paulawand @blackbat2020 @cerberus-spectre @marrymemcgrath @celestialbarnes @narcissasslytherin @snipyloulou

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[qqueenofhades]

Hi! I love your writing and adore your Fivan one shots so if your still taking prompts I would love to see one where everyone in the little palace ( Genya, Zoya, The Darling etc ) finds out about Fivans relationship. Please and thank you!

Aha, my request for prompts was quite a while ago, but since I can never resist the opportunity for Shenanigans, especially of the Fivan variety, here you go.

Nadia finds out first. She, in fact, does not even need to be actually told. Fedyor is creeping down the stairs in the early morning with tousled hair and a kefta that has spent all night on the floor of Ivan's bedroom, mind filled with nothing but jumbled images and sensations and oh Saints did that finally really happen?, and as a result, is not paying attention in the least to where he is going. He walks bang into his friend, there is a mutual moment of consternation as they stumble backward and clutch their heads and apologize, and then Nadia gets a good look. Fedyor has tried to arrange his collar to hide the most obvious bites, but it doesn't matter. Her eyes go wide as saucers. "Oh my," she says. "Did it finally happen?"

"Did... what... finally happen?"

"Fedyor Kaminsky, don't even try that." Nadia points a finger at him. "You know damn well what I'm talking about."

Fedyor looks at the floor, which doesn't help. A small smile starts to overtake his mouth. This is as good as hiring the entire First Army drum-and-trumpet brigade to parade around announcing the news, he knows, but he can't help it. "Maybe."

"Maybe." Nadia utters a scoff that is twice her size. "That is a question with a yes-or-no answer, you idiot."

Fedyor's lips pull wider. So do Nadia's.

"Oh," she crows, punching the air. "I knew it."

-----

Zoya, Ivan's old nemesis from training and their shared but completely exclusive belief that Kirigan should pay attention only to their advice at all times, also picks it up by inference. In her case, it's because she sees Ivan actually smiling when Fedyor is standing closely next to him, filling him in on some item of Heartrender miscellany, rather than looking as if this is the worst thing to happen in his entire life. When Fedyor touches Ivan's wrist briefly and slips off, Zoya's suspicions are confirmed. She stomps up and demands, "Really?"

Ivan whirls around, sees her, and glares. "Did you need something?"

"Fedyor?" Zoya still hasn't processed. "But he's so nice! Did he hit his head or wake up having forgotten his entire life to this date? I'm having a hard time thinking what else he can possibly see in you."

Ivan crosses his arms across his chest, fixing her with an even greater stare of total death, but she refuses to back down. "I don't know what you're talking about, Nazyalensky," he barks. "If you're not going to train that new cohort of Squallers, then -- "

"Fine." Zoya turns on her heel, then adds over her shoulder, "He's much too good for you, you know."

Ivan stares at her implacably. He does not, however, deny either this fact or the reason for it, and Zoya, smugly, takes that as a win.

------

Genya knows soon too, but then, Genya knows more or less everything that happens in the Little Palace by virtue of her position. The queen and her ladies are very gossipy, and when one of the younger ones starts going on about that Fedyor Kaminsky, he's such a dish, so handsome, what's his situation, Genya feels obliged to speak up and provide some gentle clarification. "I'm afraid he's already taken," she says. "And you won't want to tangle with his partner. It's... well, it's Ivan, the general's right-hand man."

The reactions, of course, are predictable: "Ivan?" spoken in increasingly incredulous tones. "Ivan? Ivan! IVAN. IVAN?!!"

"But he's so...." one of the ladies protests. "So terribly rude."

Genya smothers a wry smile. "Apparently Fedyor doesn't mind."

-------

Kirigan finds out last, and most mortifyingly. Fedyor and Ivan have been together for four months at this point, are returning to the Little Palace from their first separation as a couple and have some making up for lost time to do. They have not managed to make it to a bedroom and are getting started on said actions on the wall of a nearby antechamber, when Kirigan thinks of something he apparently forgot to tell Ivan on the road and pushes the door open imperiously, not bothering to knock. "Ivan! If those Fjerdans were already at Arkesk, then we need to -- "

There is a monumentally panicked scramble as Ivan, the stern, unflappable, terrifying Heartrender captain of the Second Army physically dives away, hits the ground, rolls over and over while frantically trying to lace his trousers up, and Fedyor has lunged with equal dispatch behind a sofa. There he crouches, likewise attempting in vain to restore his clothing, as Kirigan comes to a halt and looks around quizzically. "Ivan?"

"Moi... soverenyi," Ivan pants, climbing to his feet and brushing floor dust off his kefta. "I did not -- I thought you were -- "

"I seem to have interrupted something?" Kirigan arches a sleek dark brow. He catches sight of Fedyor, then shakes his head. "Oh, Ivan. You really could do better."

At the look of pure rage on Ivan's face, a look he has never seen before in relation to him, the Black General blinks, and even he thinks better of picking this fight. "Ah," he says. "My apologies. Congratulations, of course. I hope you two will be very happy."

[ingeniouscollectionthing]

Mine (Tom Riddle x Reader)

Request: Maybe some jealous Tom during the Yuleball smut? When he didn't ask the reader out and he gets into a fight with the dude she went with?

Pairing: Tom Riddle x Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Dark, Spanking etc. the typical stuff.

“How dare you dance in the arms of another man?”, Tom grunted, as he slapped your already red ass once more. 

“How dare you let him touch you in the ways only I am allowed to?!”, now he aggressively pulled at your hair, making you arch your back, as he slammed his rock-hard cock into your cunt unbelievably fast.

“I – I’m so sorry Tommy, I didn’t mean to”, you said in a hoarse voice, before another moan left your lips as Tom hit your g-spot.

“Oh fuck, babygirl…you fucking should be”. 

You should’ve seen it coming, really. All week long were you waiting for your boyfriend to ask you out to the annual Yule ball. You had everything planned; the dress you bought was the perfect mixture of sexy and elegant, just how he liked it. You also spent a good amount of money on beautiful underwear for him to discover - you were so excited to see the amazed lustful look he’d give you if you revealed it to him.

But he never mentioned attending the ball together, he never brought it up. So as you finally took it upon yourself to ask him out, the day of the ball, the only response you got –

“Oh come on, darling. I do not like participating in social gatherings like these, you know I never did.”

“You wouldn’t even consider to accompany your goddamn girlfriend? For Merlin’s sake Tom, do you ever think of the things I want? Or is your ego too big to consider a woman’s wish for once?!” He shrugged.

You couldn’t deny that you felt a pang of pain in your chest, but as always, you sucked it up, as you stormed out of his dorm, slamming the door in the process. Tom on the other hand just laughed at your ridiculous behaviour. You’d come around anyway, you always come back.

If he didn’t care about what you wanted, you might as well seek out another man to be your date tonight. Someone who’d give you the appreciation that you needed, after all most boys at Hogwarts literally licked the floor you walked on.

And sure enough there were at least ten of them trailing your steps through the corridors just to get your attention. You already found a date however, by the way without any efforts, really – someone Tom absolutely loathed with a great passion.

Acamus McLaggen, a Gryffindor in his last year – good looking, overconfident and arrogant – a Gryffindor at his truly worst. You knew he adored you, after all he was the one trying to sneak a love potion into your morning tea in 4th grade. Tom was furious back then. He’ll probably kill him now. Perfect Plan, you thought.

“Is this what you wanted, you little dumb girl? To be fucked? To be fucked by McLaggen?”, Tom spit with venom in his voice, one of his hands sneaking around your body to grab your throat. With great pressure his hand cut off your air supply, making tears appear in the corners of your eyes.

Just as you thought he’d let you suffocate, he let loose again. His cock still pounded into your pussy, rubbing deliciously on your clit everytime it went out and back into your warm walls.

“Yes that’s right. Now you’re sorry, huh? When I show you who you belong to”

You let out a scream as your second orgasm of the night clashed through you, making you squirt all over his muscled thighs. It wouldn’t be the last one either, you realized quickly, as Tom pulled out of you just to throw you onto the floor on your back. He crawled over you in between your aching legs, before he kissed you hard, all teeth and tongue. As he pulled back he looked at you and with a dirty smirk he wiped away your tears – then he plunged into your swollen pussy again, groaning as he felt your walls already constricting against him. You were completely overstimulated, however Tom utterly adored the way you screamed and whimpered for him to still continue, as your nails clawed down his broad back.

“Tommy…please make me cum again.. I’ll be a good girl I promise!”, you moaned, as he left marks all over your neck and cleavage.

“Who do you belong to?”, he whispered hungrily.

 Tom hasn’t seen you since you left him alone. Until now he didn’t even spend a single thought on you, but he quickly realized that he actually missed your mere presence by his side. Maybe he was a bit harsh on you, he thought, as he went over to your dorm, knocking before opening the door – just to find it empty. Tom was confused, you weren’t in your bed, like he expected you to be – you weren’t there waiting for him. The only thing on your bed was your school uniform, lying in an unorganized pile. He put two and two together though, quickly walking back to his room to change into a proper suit to attend the godforsaken ball. He needed to find you, because he knew that if you were all alone at that event, every single boy in Hogwarts would gawk at you, his girl – they’d try to touch you, dance with you, which was his job.

You were currently dancing in the arms of your dearest date, always sneaking glances at the entrance to hopefully spot your boyfriend.

“You know, Riddle is an idiot for not taking you out in that dress. You look absolutely ravishing”, Mclaggen whispered in your ear, making goosebumps appear on your skin. You shivered in an uncomfortable way, but still managed a smirk, replying in a sultry voice,

“Oh do I now?” McLaggend tightened his grip on your waist to your disgust, but you kept playing. “Maybe Tom is missing out on more than just this simple dress. Maybe now, that you’re here, you should be the one getting the surprise hiding underneath.” You could feel how his hands squeezed tighter as his breath stocked. McLaggen grinned and just seconds before his lips could meet your scarlet red ones, he was shoved off of you with a nasty punch to his face. Some students noticed the scene, trying to ignore it as to not aggravate the attacker even more. Tom was absolutely fuming, his hatred for McLaggen burning his very being, as he stepped over him, grabbing his colour to pick him up.

“Run McLaggen. Run and hide. And pray that I won’t find you”, Tom whispered, his eyes glowing in a sick tone of red, as he watched him run off.

You smiled as you slowly stepped into Tom’s line of sight, linking your hands behind his neck. His instinctively went to your waist, instantly erasing the revolting feeling of another mans hands on you. His eyes bore into yours now.

“How dare you? Wearing such a dress for such a boy?”, he spit out, clenching his teeth.

“What else was I supposed to do to get your attention, Tommy? This dress was meant for you and even more so what’s underneath. How else am I supposed to get pleased by a man when mine won’t even look at me, because he only cares about himself”, you bit back, biting your lip.

He laughed at you, a sick fake laugh.

“You know as well as I do that I am the only one capable of giving you unbelievable pleasure. I’m the only one allowed to watch as you moan and scream for more, as I pull orgasm after orgasm from your little desperate pussy”.

“That’s what you say, Tommy”. You smiled.

And with that his temper wore out – he grabbed your wrist, surely leaving marks on it, as he dragged you into some abandoned empty classroom.  Tom shoved you up against a wall after he locked the door, kissing you passionately and ripping your dress into shreds without as much of a thought. He didn’t even glance at your fancy underwear, ripping it too, before groping your whole body in a perverted and aggressive manner, clawing and slapping every piece of you he could get. As you finally freed him of his jacket and shirt, he lowered you onto your knees, fumbling with his belt and pants to get his rock hard cock out of its confines.

“Suck”, was his only order, as he grabbed your head, shoving his penis into your waiting mouth. You did your best, his cock hitting the back of your throat hard, making you almost gag. Just as he was on the verge of spilling his seed into your mouth, he pulled you off him, manoeuvring you to stand against the wall, making you present your ass to him, which he slapped a few times - hard. Your pussy was already glistening with your arousal, making it easy for him to slip inside without a warning.

Which brings us back to where we are now.  

 “I’m yours Tom! Only yours! I’m so sorry! Please! Please make me cum again”, you nearly cried from the overwhelming feeling.

Tom laughed at your begging, enjoying how he finally broke you into a whimpering and fucked out mess. Your nails still dug into his back and he loved that small amount of pain he got from it. With one last look at your beautiful face, he couldn’t keep it anymore.

“Merlin (Y/N), my little girl!” His hips stuttered, as your walls tightened deliciously around his pulsating cock. Again he felt a wet sensation on his thighs, and he smirked for he made you squirt again. You both panted hard, the world spinning around your heads, lost in the raw feeling of skin on skin.

Tom laid down beside you on the floor, turning you so that you faced his chest, engulfing you tightly in his arms. His breathing slowly returned to normal. His hand enclosed softly around your jaw, tilting your head upwards to meet his now sparkling blue eyes. You tried to focus on him, your vision getting blurrier by second, as you fought to stay conscious. You were beyond exhausted.

“Don’t worry”, Tom smirked darkly as your eyes closed. “I’ll keep you safe.” And right after he left a light kiss on your forehead – “You are mine”.

You slipped into unconsciousness, his dark laugh echoing in your mind.

It’s a bit short, but still fucking steamy. Hope you like it,

- ingeniouscollectionthing

[fumingspice]

kiss me hard before you go

Pairing: Billie Dean Howard x Reader

Angst because someone (not naming any names) *cough* @lilypadscoven is too happy to write angst. Such a strange excuse, i know. Like whose even happy anymore? That’s so 2014, Freya.

Warning: Angsty as shit! I think. Idk im usually a happy person. Mentions of cheating, mentions of smut etc. 

Requests are open!

taglist: @sarahp-stan @jumpoffabridge-t @sarahpaulsonsoftie @definitelynot-a-writer @bottom4delia @delias-bitch-craft @creepingwolfberry @thesapphictimelady @goodeday2u @that-fucking-error @saucy-sapphic @sarahp-stan @winters-witch-bitch @rainbow-hedgehog @pearplate​

You frowned to yourself, flicking through the endless posts on Instagram. It was some godforsaken hour in the morning and no matter how hard you tried or how deeply you tried to ease your restless mind you could not fall asleep. You scrolled on social media endlessly. 

God, what time could it even be? 04.27.

You gave a defeated chuckle. Even time was in on the universe’s cruel joke. She exited Instagram and went to messages. You couldn’t count the number of unsent messages and thrown out speeches you had started and couldn’t bring yourself to finish.

Billie Dean Howard.

The contact had found itself hidden deep in the archives of old messages. You hadn’t contacted her since December when you had walked away. 

Walking away was better that being the one left behind, or so you had tried so hard to tell yourself. In hindsight, the truth was that Billie Dean was going to end up leaving you anyway. Was it courage of conviction or just the simple knowledge that you couldn’t live knowing that the only person you had ever opened your heart to was going to leave you?

What was the last thing she said anyway?

Goodnight :(.

Always with those stupid text faces. Those stupid, adorable text faces. How did she have such a powerful effect on you that you could see Billie’s face in a colon and a bracket? Why hadn’t you blocked her yet? What was left to hold onto other than movie-like memories that had slipped away like the changing of seasons.

You slipped from beneath the covers, Your hair tickled Your shoulders. There was no one beside you for you to reach for in your infinite loneliness anyway. It wasn’t infinite. Why did it feel infinite? Why did you allow one person to waltz into your heart and make you home there? You reached for an unopened bottle of wine and paused. Billie had left this bottle there. You never drank unless it was around Billie. 

“Dom Perignon,” Billie told you. You were never interested in the details of fine wine. All you knew was that the older it was the more people liked it.

“Isn’t that expensive?” The brunette asked, reading the label.

 Billie nodded with a throaty chuckle. “Only the best for my girl. I thought I would save it for a special occasion.”

A special occasion. You chuckled in spite. The occasion in question was supposed Billie’s birthday. A party with many guests. One too many. The house was brimming with sets of both of your friends. You could recall reaching for the same wine all too well before being stopped by your friend’s girlfriend. Erin took you by the wrist and guided you out to the garden. 

“No one’s out here,” you protested. Erin’s face was almost forlorn. 

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

Sorry for what? You snapped out of your confusion. You could see the side of Billie’s body. Pressed against the wall beneath someone else. The anxiety had somehow eased when you watched Billie kiss another, fading into nothing because you knew that there was quite literally nothing that could get even worse than what you were watching.

You pursed her lips. When you imagined these moments, you had always imagined screaming bloody murder. You imagined punching and yelling. You couldn’t move. No tears. Hell, you couldn’t even feel. Erin grabbed your arm and trailed you back, but not before the sight of you, heartbroken in a red dress. had registered in Billie. She barely had time to pull away from her kiss and have the shock of what she was actually doing register. 

It was always a red dress. Red dresses end up in heartbreak. A goddamn blaze in the dark.

Now, you found yourself standing at the window that looked out into the garden. Looking at the spot where you had seen her lover betray every bit of trust that you had. What would have happened if you didn’t see? What if you had seen but Billie didn’t? Would you have said anything? Would Billie have said anything?

It doesn’t matter anyway.

Billie was wine. Aromatic, warm in her stomach. She was a magnificent swirl. She was the impossible to hide stain on your favourite white dress.

Every inch of this house had Billie in its essence. She was inescapable. 

It got even worse when a buzzing noise brought your attention to your phone. “Who the fuck could that be?” you asked yourself. Your heart dropped at the contact.

Billie Dean Howard is calling...

Your world collapsed for a moment as you stared at the phone buzz. Your head told you not to answer, your heart launched for it like a desert oasis. You let it ring a moment too long. You barely managed to blurt out a cracked, “Hello?” when Billie hung up. Presumably giving up.

You bit your lip. Your thumb hovered over the redial button as you fought with yourself. Maybe she’ll call again. That’s a huge maybe. Your finger jolted down unintentionally. Billie picked up on the third ring.

“Y/N?” Her breath hitched. “Y/N, can you hear me?”

You swallowed hard. “I’m here,” you stated flatly, “I can hear you.”

“I didn’t think you’d answer.”

“Honestly,” you replied. You felt no need for warmth. “I don’t think I meant to.”

“Oh. Uhm, how- how are you?”

“What do you want, Billie? It’s five in the morning,” You cut off. You could hear Billie’s breath falter a little.

“To be honest, I just wanted to see if you would pick up.”

You shook your head, cursing how well you knew the medium. “Don’t lie to me, Howard.”

Billie chuckled. “How can you tell?”

“You were the medium, but I was the human lie detector.”

“You’re a lawyer with an Irish mother and Scilian father. It would be more shocking if you weren’t one.”

You smiled, before catching yourself in an eyeroll. “Don’t change the subject.”

“I’m in town. I wanted to see you.”

“It’s five in the fucking morning.”

“You’re telling me that I actually woke you up? You were sleeping when I called?”

You bit your lip. “Yes.”

Billie chuckled again. Like it was a fucking game to her. “Well, now who’s lying?”

“What do you want, Billie?” You scoffed.

“I already told you. I want to see you.”

The audacity of the last sentence. The fact that you knew Billie Dean would come whether or not she was invited boiled your blood.

“Why.” It was more of a flat remark than a genuine question. Why. Why now.

Billie was silent for a moment. “I just want to see your face.”

Your groaned internally, another eyeroll coming into play. You scoffed. “You know the address. Find your own way over.”

And she did. The door knocked almost immediately.

You opened the door so quickly that it creaked aggressively.

“You have some fucking nerve. You know that right?” You snapped. The medium’s eyes widened in shock.

“Nice to see you too.”

You stepped aside and ushered her in, cold from the whipping air. Refreshing if you weren’t standing in shorts and a cardigan.

Billie turned around to face her. Tension grew, like insulation keeping everything in. You could choke on all the words you never said. 

“You look beautiful.”

“Je vais te tuer avec mes mains nues et dormir comme un bébé après.”

“I’m flattered.”

You groaned and walked away from her and into the kitchen. You didn’t know if you would slap her, kill her, or kiss her. You were just as prepared to strangle her as you were to fuck her hard on the kitchen floor then and there, kissing every single freckle and mole on her skin. “You have three minutes,” You muttered, pouring yourself a cup of coffee to stop yourself from looking in Billie’s direction. Your heart raced at a thousand miles a second.

“I just dropped in to say hi.”

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

You were unamused. “Is that it? Are you going get out of my life again?”

Billie frowned. “Am I? Y/N, you left me.”

“Because you fucking cheated on me, Billie Dean! What? Did you want me to pretend I didn’t see it? Pretend nothing happened? Do you want me to pretend that you didn’t rebuild my ability to trust people just so you could knock it down yourself?” You shouted. The words were coming out thick and fast now apparently.

“I was so drunk, Y/N,” Billie whimpered, her eyebrows furrowed. She was in genuine pain, you could see the guilt right in her brown eyes.

And you couldn’t give a shit.

“I’ve heard this a hundred times.”

“How many times do I have to say sorry for this?”

You raised your mug to your lips. “You can say it until I’m dead.”

You met the medium’s gaze. Brown eyes waterlogged with tears. Billie dipped her face in her hands. “I don’t know if I can go through with this again.”

You snapped again. “Good,” you said. “Because I’m done.”

“You can’t be serious.”

The pair met, closer than you had in months.

“No matter what stupid, thoughtless, selfish, idiotic, drunken things you said or did. No matter how many times. I have never stopped loving you. I’ve never fallen out of love no matter how many times I told myself I had. I haven’t gone to sleep without imaging your goddamn mouth on my lips and hands on my body and I fucking crave to hate you for it,” you spat, venom on you tongue and tears spilled down your face. “I don’t sleep, Billie. I don’t sleep because I know your arms aren’t there to hold me when I’m still awake at four in the morning. Because I can’t reach across the bed no matter how angry I am at you and feel your hair. I fucking love you goddammit. You threw that away. Not me.”

 Tears streamed down Billie’s face. “I regret what I did every. Single. Fucking. Day. I miss coming home and seeing you writing those stupid fucking reports that I know you hate writing because I know you hate your job. I miss seeing your face when you’ve won a case that has been scratching you for weeks,” she inched forward once more, her hands close to Mallorie’s face. “I miss seeing you reorganising the goddamn silverware every few weeks to keep the Fair Folk happy in the same way I miss seeing the way your mouth curls when you come.”

 You scanned Billie Dean, searching despreately for a bluff, something that would give way to the fact that this was all a lie; a gimmick for a one night stand so that you could just shut her out and go back to hating her. Hating the person you love is so much easier than having your heartbroken again. You couldn’t find that bluff. Even your gut-instinct that panged you when someone lied to you wasn’t alerting anything. Billie’s words were as genuine as her tears and it was killing you to see that Billie loved you. The lawyer had hoped- prayed even- that the medium’s words had been bullshit, sweet nothings that could be whispered into the ear of any lover that had fallen into her bed. But you weren’t just a one time fling that had walked into a casual meet. You had walked into her long-term girlfriend with her tongue down another’s throat. You had stashed that little red box with a diamond engagement ring inside even further into the closet that night, and that’s what had hurt you.

A raw truth in her words soaked into you. Refreshed you. They were the words that the ocean screamed back at you when you stood on the cliffside begging for a reason to go on.

And so you gave in. Almost, at least. You stepped forward into Billie and allowed her storm to engulf you. There was no calm here. There was a raging appetite for destruction and creation. What was that lyric? A tornado has met a volcano. Her lips ravaged yours to the point of being rubbed raw, the type of sting that bothered virtually every moment of your waking day, one that went on for days. You bit down on her lips, her tongue, her chin and cheek. Whether in was in spite or the desperation to seek and find every single piece of her that you could was unclear. 

Those fateful memories crept back, and you pushed hard against her chest. Billie’s lips, now red, white and swollen, pressed against yours again, retracting when there was no return.

“I’m sorry,” you lied. “I think there’s a possibility that I don’t love you.”

Billie’s eyes resembled a broken mirror, or maybe the view of a dying star. The thing about dying stars is that they died a very long time ago and you only notice years later. She nodded with a weak smile. “I understand,” she whispered, pressing her head against yours. She picked up her bag and turned to leave.

You stopped her. What on Earth were you doing? Let her leave so you can hate her in peace.

“Kiss me. Before you go,” you pleaded. “Hard.”

Billie shook her head, her face scrunched before throwing her face at you. The force drove you into the counter sending a glorious shock of pain up your back. Billie was doing what you had asked.

“Fuck you,” you pulled away and muttered, as if she had gonr too far in teasing you.

“What did I do?”

You raised your hand and slapped her face, lightly. “Fuck you for proving that I still love you.”

A rush of relief knocked Billie, visibly. She returned to your lips, much more gently this time, as if she were savouring every part of you.

“I told you to kiss me hard,” you whispered, although not necessarily opposed to Billie’s touch.

“I’ll do anything you really want,” she replied.

You paused for a moment. “Anything?”

Billie smiled. “Anything.”

You kissed her once. Soft. Tentatively. “Fuck me. On the table.” 

[m--rtyr]

More FCU Aaron HCs.

Mostly centred around Aaron’s Isolation and what it was like to have Xavier as an agent.

As per the request of @vampcocoabydusk

Aaron hated the isolation at FCU. The walls of his dorm felt too close together, the room was too quiet, and it reminded him way too much of his childhood. So he would try to get out as much as he could, or find ways to distract himself. Music, comics, punching bags, etc. Anything that keeps his mind off of the walls and how they seem to edge closer and closer to his skin every time he looks at them.

Sometimes he would imagine Aphmau bursting through his dorm room, saving him from his isolation like he was a princess in the tower. It was a silly thought but one that brought him comfort.

He hated his dorm shower. The walls were too close. Baths were no better. So he would have to squeeze his eyes shut and try to forget how small the space was. Sometimes he had panic attacks in the shower, and would sit there for hours afterwards trying to recover.

As much as he hated the cramped space of his dorm (despite it actually being rather large) he possibly hated being outside more. So many people. So many eyes that could be looking at him, so many eyes that he would be looking at. Anyone could come from any direction, and he wouldn’t know before they were so close he could hear them breath. His father could come from any direction. It felt too vulnerable, too crowded.

He liked Aphmau’s dorm though. He only went in there a few times. But he liked it. It was small, but the walls always felt like they were at a comfortable distance. And there were so many things there that it was easy to get distracted. And the smell was amazing. Incense, and candles, a bit of perfume. He could smell her plants too. She always had music playing, or her Tv on. It was small, but his senses were so engaged in other things that it never felt that way.

Sometimes Aphmau would lay on her bed, sprawled out in a mess of limbs, and he would lay next to her, stiff as a board. And they’d just watch eachother for a moment. She would observe him, looking for anything different about him. A new wrinkle, or scar. And he would look at her eyes, try and remember every detail about them. Anyone else would consider this romantic. But it wasn’t, not for them two. It was just something they did. and it was comforting for them both. It was one of the only times either of them got to do this so openly with someone. Not everyone likes to be observed and not everyone makes Aaron so calm that he can stare into their eyes without worrying that he’d kill them.

Xavier ruined everything. The quiet of Aaron’s dorm sucked but Xavier’s noise was worse. He was annoying. He was always there when Aaron needed to be alone, and even when he wasn’t, Aaron was always anxious he would pop up.

Xavier would force him out of his dorm to ‘have a breath of fresh air’. He would draw a lot of attention to the two of them, getting everyone to look at them. Because he knew the idea made Aaron’s skin crawl.

If Aaron ever somehow found himself at a party or gathering (usually ones held by Jenny and the lot) Xavier would constantly pressure him to drink. It takes a lot to get him drunk, thankfully, but alcohol still makes him uncomfortable. He hates the idea of acting unpredictably. And Xavier knew that.

Xavier would lean on Aaron, put his arm over his shoulders, stand near to him, joke about cutting his hair in his sleep, hug him, and make really uncomfortable jokes about Aphmau. He would just cross all of his boundaries and try to make him feel uncomfortable. Because he wanted to lure out the beast they called ‘The Ultima’.

Aaron was glad for Aphmau. She would always find ways to manoeuvre Xavier away from him, to shut him up when he was being a dick. And she did it all discreetly as to not embarrass him or to draw attention. It just reminded him of why he liked her so much.