#I haven’t draw on paper in so long I need to get used to drawing again

[tarot-archives]

Can I get a uhhhhhh laios with a guy/gn reader who has an equally autistic special interest in general biology and ecosystems that would 100% encompass monsters as well? Asking for a friend that just happens to be me (stg idk if I wanna smooch laios or be him tbh lmao)

an: though i haven’t written for an autistic yn, i’ll try to make it realistic. if i’d done something wrong, please tell me. i focused more on general dungeon ecology for y/n.

if marcille is studying about dungeon ecosystems while laios is more interested in monsters you would be the best of both worlds.

there’s just something thrilling about dungeon ecology, how it all interacts, every thing that fall under it and so on and so forth.

you’re a tall-man researcher, using every bit of your time to find out more about dungeons, and not just the ones in melini. it would have been good to join the magic academy, but since you don’t posses any talent for magic, you can’t enter.

it made you sad since they had a dungeon making class.

nevertheless, it won’t stomp your dreams of researching! you’ve read and copied countless of books you can get your hands on. eventually you settled in meleni where a newly discovered dungeon was found.

your room was filled with countless of journals, trinkets from dungeons and volumes of books you read many time before.

and on your first dungeon party, you were very ecstatic. too bad you had to leave because they’d only go to the easier upper floors. you wanted to head to the lowest level after all!

and that’s where you meet up with the touden party!

you will love marcille’s vast dungeon knowledge. she would love to teach you new things. much to chilchuck’s dismay, you have boosted her ego. endless praises for marcille and simply doting around her because she’s filled with knowledge.

“ah, long lifespans are so great. i’d spend all my life dedicating to dungeon ecology if i could” -y/n after every lecture apparently.

then monster facts with laios will be endless. he lent you his dungeon food guide and you surprisingly have a copy too! you took notes from the things he had written in the margin. much to chilchuck’s demise (again) both you and laios keep on talking and he can’t sleep :((

“eating monsters? can’t say i have thought about it, but do you ever think about their nutritional values? the high level of mana concentration must vary from non-dungeon born same species! This needed to be compared and studied!” -y/n when laios introduced his monster eating thoughts.

toshiro will have another person to ask about his life in the east. but he likes how you keep more time to yourself writing in the journals. he finds your drawing to be artistic. after seeing your difficulties with papers, toshiro will teach you about yotsume toji—a book binding process from his country. he’s happy to see you using it after he taught you.

though you won’t talk with namari much, you admire he strength as a dwarf. she keeps her past to herself, which you at least respect. but you’d talk about the different weapons used and other things she did as a blacksmith. her knowledge on materials is very handy. you write about the different dungeon materials on your journal along with the best weapons against monsters.

chilchuck, our lock expert, and the most unknown member of your party… you admire his knowledge on traps and have written about his experiences with various dungeon traps and ways of disarming them.

falin, she joins you as you ask questions to marcille or laios. she listens to you talk about your dungeon experiences and she tells you about her’s. you let her read the journals you made along the way.

On the day falin was eaten by the dragon, your journal wasn’t transported with you. So now, you join laios to rescue his sister and to save you journals!!

Request? Open!

[flaphack]

Honestly I’m tired of being alive I just want to make art and hang out with my friends

[rogueddie]

There are a lot of rumors about Eddie Munson. From his sexuality, to his religion, to him being some sort of supernatural creature.

Steve doesn’t put a lot of merit in most of them. They’re usually just bullshit people make up to entertain themselves with whilst beating down on the weird kid. Steve thinks it’s boring… usually.

He’s seen enough weird things happen around Munson to know that something isn’t right. Something about him is unnatural. And Steve is staying clear out of the way of whatever the hell he is, or whatever the hell he’s messing with.

Unfortunately, his friends haven’t gotten the message.

“Do it at your own house!” Steve complains, though he makes no move to stop them. He’s sure it’s nothing, that it’ll only lead to an annoying clean-up job, but there’s a nagging sense of dread writhing in his gut. “This shit is bull anyway.”

“If it’s bull then what’s the problem?” Tommy counters.

“Because none of you dickheads are going to help clean this shit up!”

“I promise to help you clean up,” Carol says. “There. Problem solved. Right?”

"It's still stupid," Steve mutters, glaring at the janky make-shift pentagram they've made. "And a bad idea."

It's drawn on nine pieces of paper- they wanted to draw it big on the floor, but Steve had but his foot down. He lets them use some of his moms candles as a compromise.

With the lights off, sitting with the two of them in a circle, it suddenly feels too real. Even Carol looks suddenly nervous.

Tommy is the only one still smirking, though Steve is sure that it's forced. His voice shakes a little as he begins reading off the paper he'd torn out a library book. His Latin is clunky.

At first, nothing happens.

Long enough that Carol says, "did you even say it right?"

"Yes, it even has-" Tommy starts.

The candles all blow out, suddenly. The light Steve had left on in the kitchen flicks off too, plunging them into complete darkness.

After a horrible moment, where they're still and silent, Carol yelps.

"Don't grab me, Tommy, that's not funny!"

"I didn't grab you."

"Wh- Steve?"

"No," is all Steve can get out.

"I'm turning the lights on," Tommy says. "This is ridiculous."

Steve listens to his footsteps and, when he sounds like he's almost at the light switch, he yelps.

"Fuck this," he says.

"What the fuck, Tommy!" Carol yells when they both hear him running past them. She's up on her feet immediately, chasing after him.

He wants to scream after them, plead with them to come back, that they shouldn't be abandoning the circle.

But, the same gut instinct that insists he stay where he is, keeps his mouth shut. Everything in his being is telling him that if he leaves, if he speaks first, horrible things will happen to him.

Something tuts, like a parent admonishing a child.

The living room light flicks on, so bright that Steve has to blink a few times to clear away the white spots.

Eddie Munson sits in the space they left empty.

"Someone didn't read the terms and conditions," he snickers.

"What..." Steve pauses, clearing his throat. "What are the, uh... terms and conditions?"

"Oh, they're simple, really. Look," he holds up the page Tommy had read the incantations from, pointing to the little paragraph at the end. "They even translated it to English! But all you need to know, big boy, is that you are A-OK."

"And... Tommy and Carol?"

"Eh, they're fine. Lucky, really. I'm trying to relax up here. I'm only gonna pay them back with a minor curse or two. Nothing lethal."

"Fuck."

"We haven't even got to you yet!" He spins around so hes laying on his belly, resting his chin on his palm. "You didn't technically summon me so you can just tell me to leave... or."

"Or?"

"Deal with no consequence, baby. One wish, whatever you want, free of charge. Well... I'd want your silence about the whole... summoning thing. Let's consider that payment."

He doesn't need his gut or book to warn him that it's a bad idea. Munson could be lying, easily. There could be fine print. It's a bad, very bad idea.

"There's... definitely no consequences? I won't, like, go to hell for this?" Steve finally asks.

"Do some charity work for a week, you'll be fine," he says, waving his hand around. "What do you want, King Steve?"

"Could- could you make someone love me?"

"Oh, ho ho ho! Who's the unlucky lady who said no to you?"

"No, it... it's not like that. I mean, um... my mom."

Munsons smile drops. The temperature drops with it, making a chill run up Steves spine.

"Your mom," he repeats.

"They're busy like, all the time," Steve automatically defends. "And they're barely here so, uh... of course they wouldn't- I mean, it's normal, right? You can't love a stranger or... whatever. It's fine. It's just... I don't know."

"Steve..." Munson pauses.

He groans, throwing his head into his hands, dramatically. He almost immediately flings his head back up, hair flying everywhere, giving Steve wide and pleading eyes.

"I can't make people fall in love or any shit like that. I can make illusions, that's it. Love is, like... way out of my jurisdiction."

"I- I'm ok with an illusion. Like, just one day or something."

"Steve, baby, you're breaking my heart."

"Please?"

"Jesus- ok!" Grumbling, Munson shifts so he's kneeling. "And in return, you won't say shit about any of this. Deal?"

"Deal."

"Great. Ugh. This next part is... weird."

"What do you mean, weird?"

"It's weird, I don't know. Deals about, like, love are sealed with a kiss."

"You're joking."

"Nope, and that's not even the weird part. Now, come on and pucker up, let's get this over with." He gestures for Steve to shuffle closer, waiting until they're sat close enough that their knees almost bump together. "You can still change your mind. Anything at all, Steve. Anything."

"I thought you wanted to get this over with?"

"On your head..."

Munson leans forward, kissing him. It's just a peck, simple and easy. No big deal, right?

Steve feels possessed. It's like someone lit a match in his stomach, leaving him lightheaded and confused. He's not sure how he ends up in Eddie's lap, clutching onto his shoulders, desperately trying to lick into his mouth. He feels so-

He wakes up in his bed, the morning light blinding him.

"What the fuck..." he mutters to himself, grabbing at his throbbing head.

At first, he thinks he's hungover. That he'd just had a weird dream... but he's wearing the same clothes. And, sat on his stomach, is a guitar pic. It's got 'corroded coffin' written on it too- Eddie's band.

"Steve!" He hears his mom call. "Time to get up!"

He scrambles out of bed, dashing down the stairs.

She smiles when she spots him, so bright and warm. She even raises an arm, laughing when he practically throws himself into her side and hugging her tight.

"Morning, sweetheart. Good dreams?"

"Yeah. Yeah, great. But, uh... I feel sick."

"Oh no," she frowns. She puts her hand to his forehead, cooing when she brushes his hair out his face. "Is it your stomach?"

"Yeah. Just... might be better to stay home today. If that's ok?"

"Of course it is. I'm sure we can find something fun to do together, yeah? How about we get a vhs movie, hm?"

"I'd love that."

"Great. Well, if you're feeling up to it, I've made breakfast." She steps away, plating the food she's cooked up. "Oh, did I ever tell you about Paris? It was beautiful, you would have loved it. We should bring you, next time we go."

Steve can't stop smiling. He's sure that his cheeks will be aching by the end of the day.

He'll have to thank Eddie- as soon as he can even think about him without blushing. He'll need to ask if it's normal to still feel... affected, even after the deal is done.

Part of him knows it isn't the deal. Part of him is too curious about how Eddie will react.

[thebearchives]

paper-thin walls | m.s.

PAIR. neighbour!mick schumacher x single mother!reader

SUMM. noisy neighbours was the last thing mick was expecting after the long f1 season. he's tired, he's stressed, and believe it or not, he's ready to give his neighbour a piece of his damn mind.

WC. 5.6k

NOTES. first fic of 2023, everyone cheer!! i'm trying out new styles of writing, so please lmk how you found this fic.

WARNINGS include excessive use of the word 'fuck' (i'm sorry), and...shirtless mick? as always, don't be a ghost reader!

rest and relaxation, mick. that’s what toto had told him before he waved him off at the airport. we need you in prime shape for the next season.

mick tossed in his bed, migraine prickling the back of his head as another screech came from the wall beside him. 

look like you haven’t slept in months, mate. george had thrown an arm over his shoulder, cheeky smile playing on his lips as he brought a finger up to poke the obvious bags under mick’s eye. look alive, mick. it’s only gonna get worse from here.

it wasn’t official yet, but soon, news would drop about lewis’ retirement and mick’s subsequent promotion to the empty mercedes seat. he supposed that george was right. the season had only just ended and yet already, his shared calendar was filling up faster and faster with events, testing sessions, and appearances for the new season.

i’ll tell you this now. get all the sleep you can get this break. lewis rolled his shoulders back, stretching his neck side-to-side. the now eighth-time champion yawned loudly, muttering about how he was glad to be escaping the early mornings of simulator practice that happened closer to the start and end of the off season. 

mick couldn’t help the sigh that escaped his lips. it was strange, really, how quickly the idea of sleep had turned from attainable to something as out-of-reach as his seat on the grid had been the year prior. except, only his fight for his seat came with much less crying and screaming from his next door neighbour.

now listen, mick didn’t hate kids, alright. in fact, his older sister had brought a wonderful little boy into the world some years ago, and mick didn’t like to brag, but he was certain he was his nephew’s favourite uncle;

( “you’re also his only uncle, mick.” gina rolled her eyes as she watched mick toss her son up in the air. 

mick waved her off, laughing along with his nephew. “i’m still his favourite, aren’t i, jonah?” 

he had directed the second half of his sentence to the boy in his arms who, when addressed, nodded rapidly and smiled at his mom with his crooked teeth. 

“yeah, mama! uncle mickie is the best uncle in the whoooooole world!” )

so, yeah, it was fair to say mick liked kids. but when that kid is crying her little lungs out at 2:53 in the morning for the third night in a row? yeah, that’s when he draws a line. 

a beat passed before another set of pitiful whines reverberated from the wall. mick pulled the pillow out from under him, and stuffed it over his head instead, hoping to drown out the sounds. 

his first order of business as a mercedes amg driver? move the fuck out. 

your eyes were red, beady with unshed tears as the figurative hammers slammed against your head. 

amelia was sick— had been for the past three days now. you had been trying to soothe her cries for the past hour, but to no avail. your heart broke to see your little angel’s face contort in pain as her whole body ached. 

it’s a simple cold. your pediatrician had told you such with a small smile. she was holding on to a red lollipop that she reached over and handed to amelia. the two-year-old had reluctantly reached out and grabbed it before rushing back against your side. her forehead was burning up as you pushed her bangs away from her face, face visibly worried. it’s viral, hon. the seasons are changing. nothing to worry about.

you had a sneaking suspicion that the lady from the fourth floor with the hacking cough had been the one to infect your little girl. if only the elevator doors had closed on her that day.

( you pressed the ‘door close’ button repeatedly, willing it to close before anne from the fourth floor would reach the elevator. 

amelia giggled with each press of the button. “i wanna try! i wanna try! mommy, please can i try?” she had stood on her tippy-toes, teetering over and grabbing onto your dress as support. 

you smiled, hand leaving the button to instead ruffle her hair. “it’s all yours, little lady. have at it.”

amelia reached over and pushed her finger against the ‘door open’ button. you held in a groan as the door jerked in the opposite direction. you tutted lightly, pushing amelia’s finger to the next button over. “wrong button, baby.”

amelia ‘ohh’ed,  finger pushing against the button one again, but it was too late.

you watched as anne rushed to the elevator door with a rejuvenated fervor, wanting so badly for the doors to close right before she got on. you prayed to schindler elevators that the doors would close on her.

schindler elevators inc. was unfortunately not a god, and thus, anne got on.

“good afternoon, dear.” anne sniffled out, turning to look at the little girl in front of you. “thank you for waiting, dearie.”

amelia smiled, “you’re welcome! what floor?” 

anne coughed loudly. you tried to hide your grimace. “fourth, please.”

the doors finally closed and amelia tugged on your dress once again. you smiled at her hopeless face, reaching up to press the fourth floor button. 

anne had coughed and sneezed a few more times before she nasally said goodbye and got off on her floor. )

anne was a sweet lady, you wouldn’t deny it. but at this moment in time, you couldn’t help but curse her with all the malicious intent you could muster. you were tired. amelia was tired. and yet, nothing you were doing seemed to lull the girl into a state of slumber.

faintly, you could feel the guilt creeping up on you. the walls of your apartment complex were thin— you’d learned that the hard way. you were aware of how amelia’s cries were probably making their way into your neighbour’ houses and into the hallway, but quite frankly, you couldn’t even pretend to give a shit while you pulled amelia into your arms and took her on a little walk around your apartment. 

her loud cries slowly turned into sniffles and low whines as you rocked her around your house, showing her all the framed pictures hung around your house. one of her hands found its way to your hair, twirling some strands while the other stayed nestled between your bodies. your shirts had come off long ago— skin-to-skin was always a great comfort for amelia, and you could tell that the material of her sleeves and your t-shirt was overstimulating her greatly. 

even dressed in just a diaper, amelia’s arm, and subsequently, the rest of her body, was burning up from the fever she was running. you had a feeling that the medicine you had given her before her scheduled bedtime was wearing off, but amelia had refused to drink her milk and you were reluctant to give her another dose on an empty stomach. 

you hated to rouse her once she had finally quieted down but after being a mother for two years, you quickly learned that too much empathy could lead to your downfall. amelia needed to take her medicine now so that she wouldn’t have another meltdown in an hour’s time, and if that came at the expense of her crying just a bit more, it’d have to do.

you hesitantly pulled amelia away from your skin, hushing her lightly as she started to resist and whine. “i know, i know. i’m sorry, baby. i know it hurts.” 

you made your way to the kitchen. you talked amelia through every step, hoping to keep her distracted long enough to pull out an applesauce cup from the pantry. “we’re gonna eat some food and then give you your medicine so your body stops hurting. okay, baby?” 

amelia shivered lightly as your hand grazed over her stomach. she watched with wet eyes as you grabbed a spoon and attempted to open the cup— it was quite hard, doing everything with one hand.

“can mommy put you down?” you stopped and looked down at amelia, who frowned before slowly shaking her head and leaning into your chest again. “you wanna sit in my lap?” amelia nodded, a shuddered breath escaping her as she let herself calm down.

you worked quickly, sitting down with a tired baby in your lap and peeling open the cup. you fed amelia with slow bites, hoping she kept her food down this time. after she finished about half the cup, she started to fuss, pushing her face into your arm to avoid eating anymore. you were too tired to care about the fact that she had rubbed applesauce all over your bare arm. 

you decided against giving her the next dose of medicine until she stopped being fussy— if there was anything amelia had seemed to hate more than being sick, it was taking her medicine. the one she had been prescribed was grape flavoured, and it was by far the worst flavour of medicine you had the disgrace of stumbling across. you pitied your daughter. truly, you did, but you wanted her to get better, and if this grape-flavoured syrup was the only way to nurse her back to health, you’d do whatever it takes to get her to drink it. 

amelia was now sitting on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket as her clammy skin made her feel cold. she watched you with narrowed eyes as you manoeuvred around the kitchen to find her medicine and her sippy cup filled with water. although you had tried your hardest to hide the bottle from her, amelia recognized the purple bottle instantly, shaking her head furiously and whining out a no, mommy.

you sighed, not wanting to experience the third meltdown of the night. half heartedly, you wished for her to just stop crying and go to sleep, entirely too exhausted by caring for a sick child while running on a combined two hours of sleep. 

you couldn’t help but mentally scold yourself; god, you were such a bad mother. here your daughter was— sick and in need of your comfort— and instead of comforting her, you’re frustrated with her tears and couldn’t stand to hear another cry. you were just so tired. yet, you had no right to complain— you knew being a single mother would have been hard, but you still went through with it. 

you took a deep breath in, trying to stop yourself from spiralling. 

you carried amelia in your womb for nine months alone. you had gave birth alone. you had spent the last three years raising amelia on your own, and god damn it, a sickness would not make you question your worth as a mother. not over your dead body.

“alright, mimi.” you crouched in front of where amelia had been sitting, a weak smile on your face to try and coax her into drinking her medicine. “you’ve gotta drink your medicine if you want to feel better, okay?— no, don’t give me that look. mommy doesn’t want to give you this either, but you have to drink it or else you’ll continue hurting all night.”

the young girl sniffled, eyes already watering again. “but it’s yucky!”

you placed the sippy cup on the ground beside you, reaching up to caress her cheek lightly. “it is, but it helps you feel less icky and achy, okay?”

amelia stared at the bottle in your hand, a frown clear on her face. you wished she hadn’t taken up your stubbornness. 

“we can do this the easy way, or the hard way, amelia.” you gave her a slightly stern look.

amelia shook her head before pushing it back and into the cushion of the couch. 

hard way, it is.

you leave me no choice, amelia. you placed the plastic feeding syringe filled with 5 mL of the purple medicine, and reached out to hold onto amelia. you sat down in her spot, holding the girl down by her arms as she started to yell and flail her limbs. after she realized her arms were being held, she began to kick her feet, trying to roll out of your arms. 

your grip didn’t loosen, leaning forward to grab the syringe once again. you held the syringe near her mouth, and amelia immediately started to scream louder, yells turning into sobs. again, very faintly, you worried about the noise and your neighbours, but you pushed forward. 

you placed the syringe against the inside of her cheek, releasing some of the medicine. amelia stopped crying for a slight second to swallow before going back to her loud cries. the migraine from earlier returned as you repeated your actions twice more before tossing the empty syringe to the table and pulling the girl up in your lap.

amelia gagged loudly, and you couldn’t stop the loud no, no, no! no throwing up from escaping your lips. you grabbed her sippy cup before helping her wash down the medicine. god, children were so dramatic.

amelia, whose hands were now free, pushed the sippy cup away after a few sips. her lips were downturned into a big pout, and her eyes were glassy. her breath shuddered, still recovering from her outburst from seconds ago. you cooed gently, pushing her hair away from her forehead and eyes. 

“see, that wasn’t so bad now, was it?” you imagined that if she knew how, amelia would respond to you with a death glare. 

you pulled the girl closer to you, hand on her hair, smoothing it down as she placed her wet cheek against your sternum. you whispered quiet compliments to your baby as she started to calm down, hand coming back up to grab your hair and tangle her fingers into it.

it was quiet— no sounds aside from your whispers of i love you’s and amelia’s heavy breathing (her nose had stuffed up not too long ago). it had stayed quiet for maybe twenty seconds, until the silence was broken by a rather aggressive knock on your door.

amelia startled, and your heart dropped.  fuck.

mick wasn’t sure when he finally dozed off. the little girl from the other side of his wall had finally quieted down, and he could faintly hear another woman’s voice coaxing her to calm down. 

when he came to again, it had of course been due to another meltdown from the girl. he’d startled awake, pillow falling from his face and onto the floor beside him. his heart rate was erratic, and it took him a few seconds to get a bearing of his surroundings. when the next cry resonated through his room, he couldn’t help the loud groan from escaping past his lips.

mick sat up in his bed, suddenly feeling a strong wave of rage crash over him. it was late, and he was tired. it was past 3 am now, and mick schumacher had had enough.

the last few days had been stressful, to say the least. mick was going to be an official driver on the grid next season, for mercedes, and as excited as he was, he was also nervous— extremely nervous. yes, it was off season, but everyone knew that off season meant preparing for the next season. there really weren’t any “days off” in formula one, not really— if it wasn’t driving, it was sim work, and if it wasn’t the sim, it was working out to keep those muscles in shape.

frankly, mick had mentally exhausted himself by worrying for his next season in formula one, and with the lack of sleep, the man was nearing insanity.

he could feel the frustration, the exhaustion, and all his anxieties start to build up; start to consume him. he let them consume him. 

as if on autopilot, mick got out of his bed, walking out of his bedroom and directly towards his front door. another loud cry came from across the wall, this one louder from all the rest. 

if mick had been in his right mind, he wouldn’t have opened the door and rapped his knuckles against his neighbour’s door rather aggressively. but alas, mick had finally exploded, and who better to release his frustrations on than his next-door neighbours who couldn’t shut the fuck up at 3 am on a wednesday night. 

the second he registered his hand on the painted black door, he paled. fuck. mick felt like he was slapped in the face— what the fuck was he thinking? what the fuck could he possibly do? yell at whoever opened the door? tell them to shut their baby up? fuck. fuck.

mick held his breath, pulling his hand back. should i run for it? his eyes flitted from the door in front of him to his own. a beat passed, the door didn’t open, but he could still hear whining and muffled murmurs. it was louder now that he was out in the hallway— his walls had been thin, but perhaps the ones that lined the sides of the hallway were thinner. maybe they didn’t hear me.

before he could decide between standing his (now, remorseful) ground, or turn tail and hurry back home and sleep with his shitty “noise-cancelling” headphones on, the door opened. his head jerked up at the sound, eyes raking over your figure as he worked up the nerve to look you in the eyes.

you were a sight to behold, dressed in a plain black sports bra and loose, plaid pajama pants that coincidentally mirrored the colours of mercedes. the quick ponytail you had thrown your hair into some hours prior was now a ghost of what it should have been— most of your hair slipping out and splaying over your shoulders. the tangled ends could only have been caused by the young girl held in your arms. she was covered up more than you were, but from where the blanket fell off her shoulder and exposed her arm, mick could tell she was just as bare, if not more. (skin-to-skin, he’d realize some hours later as he laid on the couch and stared at the ceiling, this time wide awake on his own accord.)

your eyes, mick quickly learned, told stories clearer than even the most renowned storytellers. they were droopy and bloodshot with the lack of sleep. mick could read the exhaustion through them from miles away. aside from that, they were also bleary— as if you were seconds away from bursting into tears yourself. the girl in your arms sniffled, dragging his attention away once more as he scanned his eyes over her rosy red cheeks and irritated nose. oh.

a rogue wave of guilt crashed over mick, almost drowning him in the process. in his blind rage, mick hadn’t even considered what could have possibly led the girl in your arms to cry. it seems that the lack of sleep had killed his brain cells— rid him of all common sense and critical thinking. she was sick. 

the air was rather quiet around you three— aside from the little girl’s sniffling and heavy breaths, silence filled the air. mick mulled over what he should say. 

the girl in your arms shivered and you shifted her closer. another second of silence passed and you decided to take the reins of the conversation. “hi, are you here about the noise?”

mick could do nothing but nod, still feeling regretful for having knocked in the first place. his lips turned upwards into a sheepish smile, hand ruffling his already messy hair.

“listen, i’m really sorry. my daughter hasn’t been feeling the best for the past few nights, and i went around to let the rest of the hall know…” you trailed off, cocking your eyebrow as you asked him a question. “i don’t think i saw you around?”

mick stuttered. “uh, yup. yeah. sorry, i was out of town for the past few weeks and only just got back,” he gestured to the door to the right of your own. “ i live next door.”

you winced. “ah, that means you’re on the opposite side of my bedroom. i’m sorry, really. amelia rarely gets sick but when she does, she’s quite the force to be reckoned with…the noise should go down now, hopefully. her medicine wore off, and she’s just gotten a new dose. let’s both hope she sleeps like a baby, yeah?”

the light chuckle that escaped your lips made mick’s heart warm. the sheepish smile turned into a shy one. “yeah, of course. i’ll let you guys go to bed, then,” he gestured his head to amelia, who had somewhat fallen asleep against your shoulder, a line of drool dripping from her open mouth. “sorry for bothering you guys this late at night.”

you lightly shook your head. “i should be saying that to you. i’ll try my very hardest to make sure you’re able to catch up on sleep now!”

mick smiled and wished you a good night, turning back towards his door. you slowly let the door shut, the whirring and clicking noise signifying that it had automatically locked.

mick yawned as he reached his door. his hand fumbled to find the doorknob, eyes bleary with sleep. he pushed the doorknob down. it didn’t move. huh?

he tried again, and again, and one more time. each time the doorknob didn’t budge. mick became frantic, and for the second time in the past five minutes, he found himself thinking— fuck.

mick had boasted about the new upgrades for his apartment building for months to anyone who listened. how could he have possibly forgotten that his front door automatically locked? that he could only get in if he had his keys or if someone was inside? (“well, what if you get locked out? what then?” “don’t be stupid, gina. i’m not an idiot, i’d never do such a thing.”)

who’s the idiot now? mick groaned, hands pulling at his hair as he crouched down. he felt like crying. he was so fucking tired. now that it was finally quiet, now that amelia had finally stopped crying, mick was locked out of his house with no way back in. what a fucking night. 

mick stared at the tiled floor under him, gnawing on his lip as he thought of his options. it was 4 in the morning, not a single person would be awake and working at the front desk. he couldn’t call anybody— his phone was inside, plugged into the wall to charge after two days of use. even if he had it on him, the only people who had copies of the key were his mom, his sister, and hank, the man who worked the front desk— no one that would be awake, nor close enough to come up and unlock his door for him. 

his eyes flickered back to your front door, shaking his head before the thought could even fully form. he was not going to bother you again, especially not now. mick leaned his head back against his locked door, accepting his fate and slouching onto the tile. the metal of the door was cool against his bare skin causing a shiver to run down his spine. 

time was going by extremely slow, or at least it felt like it was for mick. his knees were now up to his chest, trying to find some reprieve from the cold air that breezed through the hallway’s air conditioning. he wasn’t sure how long he had been sitting like that, or when his eyes had finally shut until he was roused by the sound of your door opening. he raised his head, making eye contact with you for the second time that night. you looked mostly the same as before— tired eyes and unruly hair— the only difference now was that you had traded your sports bra in for a white shirt and a cardigan.

you cocked your head lightly. “oh? what are you doing out here?”

your voice was quiet, soft. mick felt his cheeks heat up, the embarrassment returning. 

his smile was sheepish. “i forgot my keys.”

your expression shifted, a round ‘oh’ shape forming on your lips as you nodded. before you could respond however,  your eyes widened and you immediately stepped back into your apartment, leaving mick all alone in the hallway. again. mick blinked, unable to comprehend what just happened.

you returned back outside with a soundtrack of quiet jingling. you brandished the keys in your hand to the boy sitting in front of his door. “almost just made the same mistake.”

mick nodded, an airy laugh escaping his lips. “i don’t suppose amelia knows how to open doors yet?”

you shook your head, “with those new child-safe knob covers? god, i hope not.”

the air became quiet, neither of you speaking many words. mick found himself wishing the silence would swallow him whole. he caved.

“so what—”

“would yo—”

mick flinched, instantly backtracking. “sorry, you go first.”

“no, no. it’s okay, you can go first.”

“no, really. it’s okay, it wasn’t very important, anyway.” mick pushed himself off of the ground, now coming up to stand against his door instead. “please, say whatever you wanted to.”

you pursed your lips, staring at his figure before sighing. “alright,” you nodded, “i was just going to offer if you’d like to crash on my sofa? it’s awfully cold out here, and you’re…”

mick glanced down at his bare chest at your gesture, cheeks flaming hot enough to drown out the cold breeze of the air conditioner. he crossed his arms, trying to cover up his chest, though you had already seen everything he had on show. 

he shook his head, adamant on not inconveniencing you further. “no, that’s alright. i’m here because of my forgetfulness, i can deal with it.”

you couldn’t help but copy his movement. “your forgetfulness came from the fact that amelia, and by extension, myself, kept you up most of the night because of how loud we were. if it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine.”

mick went to argue but you cut him off. “really, it all comes back to me, so let me help you.”

the german boy was silent, mulling over his options in his head. 

“it’s a pull-out.” 

his eyes met yours again. “you’re sure?”

“yes, of course.” you nodded excessively. “i was just about to go down to the laundry room–” mick’s brows furrowed, and it was your turn to smile sheepishly now. “— i forgot to grab the last load of laundry earlier because of how cranky ‘melia was being. if you don’t mind waiting for another 5 minutes, i can quickly go grab the load and let you settle in for the night?”

mick nodded, hand coming up to scratch at the base of his neck. “no, of course. take your time. i’ll be here…s’not like i’d be able to go anywhere, anyway.”

you smiled at his words, eyes brighter than they had been the first time you two spoke. “great!”

you pulled the cardigan closer to your chest, walking down the hallway as fast as you could without bursting into a full sprint. had you really just done that? had you really just invited a stranger you had briefly acquainted with not mere minutes ago to spend the night in your apartment? yes. 

you pushed the down button on the elevator. and then again, willing it to get to your floor faster. fuck, your mind was going crazy with the what ifs. 

what if he was a creep? you haven’t seen him around since before tonight. ‘out of town’ he says. for what? what if he was a serial killer? that would make sense. he’d fled the town to not look suspicious, and now he’s back for his next victims. yes, that was it. (in the future, mick would listen to your retellings of this story with a look of disbelief. “you thought i was going to kill you!?” “of course, i did! i didn’t know you!” “you offered that i stay the night!” “well, i don’t always make good decisions now, do i?”)

the elevator ride was rather short, and uneventful— no anne from the fourth floor to pull you from your thoughts with a hacking cough. you chewed on your lips as you mulled over the man you had left upstairs. 

the laundry room was quiet and dark. of course, it was expected for four in the morning— not everyone was as disorganized as you were. you rushed your way around the familiar room, grabbing the basket you had left behind and unloading your dryer. you had to work quickly to get back before amelia realized the warmth next to her was simply your heated blanket and not you. you also had to get back to him.

by the final fitted sheet pulled from the dryer, you had made up your mind. there was just no way that your next-door neighbour. he seemed nice— too nice, a voice rang in your head. you shook your head, ridding yourself of the negative thoughts. everything will be just fine. 

he was right where you left him— albeit, now returned to his slumped over position against his door. your footsteps were quiet, yet still managed to rouse him back to reality. 

you sent him a sheepish smile. “i didn’t take too long, did i?”

“not at all.” he shook his head. “you’re fine.”

a hum escaped your mouth followed by the nod of your head. you reached into your cardigan’s pocket to pull out the keys, unlocking the door quietly and pushing it in with your hip. you held the door open and gestured for him to come in.

his hesitance was obvious and in your head, you cheered. definitely not a serial killer. 

“an open door usually means you can enter, you know?” you gave him a soft smile. he returned it, though it looked slightly more like a grimace.

“are…” he started, arms crossing over once again, feeling bare under your gaze. “are you sure? really, it’s no problem for me to stay the night out here. hank will probably be in the office in another hour or two. ‘s not a problem, i’ll just wait for him to get here and i’ll get into my apartment. plus, amelia’s only just fallen asleep, and i’d hate to m—”

“oh, will you just get in here already?” you couldn’t help but reach out, lightly grabbing his arm before tugging him in. you guided the door shut with your foot, making sure it wasn’t too loud before turning around to look at the man in front of you.

his eyes were wide, flickering from your face to your hand, which was still wrapped around his arm. you followed his gaze, your own eyes widening as you quickly dropped your hand. your hand felt like it was on fire— his arm was cold, icy from the air conditioning, and a stark contrast from your warm ones. it felt like you’d given yourself an ice burn.

you cleared your throat, yet stayed silent, not knowing what to say.

the man across from you was in a similar boat, cheeks dusting a light pink as he focused on the heat emanating from where your hand once was.

“i’ll show you to the couch, if you’d like?” your voice tilted up at the end of the sentence. “i have a feeling our layout is the same, so the bathroom should be in the same spot, if you need it.”

he followed behind you with a quiet murmur agreeing about how similar your floor plans were. 

your eyes widened as you entered the living room,.empty syringes and dirty tiny baby dishes were strewn across the coffee table. you placed your laundry basket to the side, hastily picking up your earlier mess with an apology.

the shake of your neighbour’s head went unnoticed by you as you rushed into the kitchen and back out. it wasn’t until you had presented him with the pull out that he spoke again.

“you know,” his voice was rather quiet, conscious of the baby sleeping just a little ways away. “you really should not let strangers into your home.”

for a second, you nearly felt your heart stop— this was it. he really is a serial killer— until you caught his expression, once again riddled with guilt as if he was overstepping. as if you hadn’t invited him in.

“you’re not really a stranger though, are you?” at the cock of his head, you continued. “you’re my neighbour who i’ve inconvenienced all night.”

“you don’t even know my name.”

you nodded. “alright, i’ll bite. you bring up a good point. so what is it then? your name?”

“...mick.” he had a slight smile playing on his lips.

“well, mick.” you gave him a small smile, initiating a handshake. “my name’s y/n. now, we’re neither strangers, nor neighbours with no names.”

mick couldn’t stop the smile from spreading over his lips, hand warm in your hold. “i suppose you’re right, then.”

you quickly left to grab the man— mick— a few pillows and a comforter from your closet. “i’m the door at the end of the hallway. if you need anything, you can knock on that door and let me know.”

mick nodded. “of course. thank you again, really.”

“not a problem.” you smiled, already making your way out of the living room.“i’ll see you in the morning, then.” 

as you walked out the room, you couldn’t help but turn once more, eyeing the blond-haired man who somehow didn't look so out of place as he messed with the teddy bear that you’d forgotten to pick up from the couch. you smiled.

“goodnight, mick.”

“sweet dreams, y/n.”

[cyripticchronicler]

Healing in Soothing Waters - Spencer Reid

In the aftermath of a particularly gruelling case, Spencer Reid grapples with the haunting memories. Seeking solace in the comfort of his partner, he finds support and understanding.

Warnings: Kissing, mentions of death (Children), kinda dark, hurt/comfort

A/N: Thank you all for the support recently!! I love you all so much and I can't wait to write more <3

Masterlist

The images of Spencer’s latest case lingered in his mind. It was a brutal case, the ones involving children are always the worst. It’s late when he arrives home, the sparkling moonlight guiding his way as he walks. 

He wasn't bothered to call for a cab, using the short walk to clear his mind and hopefully cheer himself before you see him. But the walk was pointless, and you notice something’s up as soon as he trudges through the front door, shoulders slumped like he’s got the weight of the world on his back. 

You don’t say anything, giving him a gentle peck on the cheek and a quiet ‘hello’ before leaving him to put his stuff away. Spencer’s grateful you haven’t pressed him about the case yet, giving himself time to collect his thoughts before he tries to talk about the gruelling memories from yesterday. 

He makes his way back downstairs, greeted by the scent of Mac and Cheese coming from the kitchen. He doesn’t waste a second in wrapping his arms around your waist as you stir the cheese sauce, shoving his head in your neck and breathing in your scent. 

In the early months of your relationship, Spencer would have been blushing fiercely at his actions, but after two years of dating you, a ring hidden in his sock draw, he knows he’s got nothing to be uncomfortable about. It’s you, after all. 

“How was your day?” He asks, voice raspy from not using it. You force yourself out of his grip so you can finish making dinner. 

“My day was okay. Nova got into the bathroom and started ripping up the toilet paper again,” Spencer smiles lightly at the thought of you trying to tell off Nova, the kitten you found on the street a few months ago. 

“How was your day?” You ask gently, not sure if he’s ready to talk yet. 

He isn’t, “Do you need any help with dinner,” He asks and you drop the topic, nodding your head lightly, “Can you get out some bowls, please.”

He complies, and you scoop the gooey Mac and Cheese into each bowl. Spencer breathes in the scent, “Smells amazing as usual,” He presses a quick kiss to your forehead, leading you into the living room. 

You eat in silence, enjoying the company. But the silence gets too much for Spencer, his dark thoughts coming back, you notice, of course you notice, Spencer thinks. But you don’t ask what happened, instead, you start telling him about your day, your voice like honey. 

Spencer slumps against the couch, his empty bowl on the coffee table in front of him. He focuses on your words, the way your voice shakes slightly from all the talking. You’re not much of a talker so he makes sure to hang onto every word you say.

“-talk about it?” His eyes fly open, back tensing and you hurry to reassure him, “You don’t have to. I can tell it’s eating you up inside, though.”

He sighs, admiring your face, the way your eyes are pinched with worry, hands fiddling with each other on your lap. 

You notice the pain in his own eyes, the way his bottom lip trembles and you open your arms wide. He doesn’t hesitate, gently laying on top of you as you run your fingers through his hair. He shoves his face in the crook of your neck, not being able to control the tears. 

“It’s okay,” You mutter, “Let it all out.” And he does, letting out broken sobs that crack your heart, and gripping onto you like you might disappear at any moment. 

 “Do you want to take a bath?” You mutter. You’re not sure how long you stayed like that, his arms gripping you gently. You feel him nod against your neck and gently pry him away from your body. Your heart shatters at the sight of his red-rimmed eyes, pulling him up from the sofa and leading him into the bathroom. He leans against the sink as you run him the bath, checking to make sure the water is at the right temperature. 

You go to leave but Spencer pulls you back, hand wrapping around your waist as he pulls you flush against him. He doesn’t waste a second in placing his lips on yours, body relaxing as if it was what he needed this whole time. It's an innocent kiss but you can’t help moaning lightly, causing Spence to brush his tongue over your bottom lip. 

You pull away before he can take things further. “Your baths getting cold,” You remind him, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“Join me?” He whispers, eyes tracing over your face with so much admiration you want to cry. You don’t hesitate, nodding your head and pulling away so you both can get undressed. 

He climbs in the bath first, pulling you in after him. You lay against his chest, his hands coming to rest on your stomach. 

“I love you,” He mutters in your ear after a moment of silence. You fully relax, head falling back against his shoulder causing him to laugh lightly. 

“I love you too, Baby.” He’s quiet for a moment, lost in thought.

“He killed children,” He whispered and you tense. “So many.” You don’t waste a second in turning around, holding his face gently. 

“But you caught him,” His eyes flutter open to look at you, “He could have killed so many more, but you caught him. And you gave those families closure.”

“I can still see their bodies,” You freeze, staring at him with concern, mind racing to find the right words. 

“I know, Baby. But it will be okay. You don’t have to deal with this alone.” 

He nods his head, “I love you,” He says again and you smile lightly, “I love you too.”

And though Spencer’s hurting, he knows he can deal with anything as long as you’re by his side. 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Don't Speak 20

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, manipulation, reclusive behaviour, disordered eating, dissociation, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (f!short!reader)

Character: librarian!Andy Barber

Note: Andrew is back.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

“I want you to take this,” Dr. Kemp turns back to you, holding a spiral notebook with black and white cover, “and I want you to use it.”

You stare, uncertain as he crosses the room. Use it? How?

“You can write down your feelings, you can make lists for yourself, you can track the days…” he explains, “but I want you to put something in it every day. Can you do that for me?”

You look at the notebook as he holds it out. You slowly take it with both hands, lowering it to your lap as you run your thumbs up and down the cover. It’s brand new. You can smell the freshness of the paper.

“Can I draw in it?” You ask.

“Sure, if that’s what works for you,” he affirms, “that’s for you. You can bring it with you to our next appointment, but you don’t need to show me anything. It’s just there so you can record your moods and anything that might be a trigger for you.

“Oh,” you look up at him shyly, meeting his bold blue eyes for only a second before dropping your head.

“This is a safe place, alright? I want you to think of it like that. Everything within these walls stays between us. Our little secret.”

“Okay,” you hug the notebook to your chest.

“And I want you to set yourself a little goal every day. Nothing big, alright? It could be a shower, it could be reading a chapter of a book, it could be as simple as walking around the house,” he continues, “but you can’t stay in bed all the time. You gotta take care of yourself. You have to give yourself love and those things are the best sort of love.”

You nod and rock slightly, “yes, doctor. Are we… done now?”

“Are we?” He bends and crosses his arms over the back of the empty chair, “that’s up to you.”

“I… I think. I don’t wanna waste any more of your time.”

“Waste? No. See? Don’t talk about yourself like that. You didn’t waste my time, you enriched it,” he smiles, you see only a glimpse of how it brightens his features. “I think you should go home and get some rest. You came all the way here and you did a really good job.”

He pushes himself straight, “I’ll have my receptionist schedule a follow-up.”

“Thank you, doctor,” you stand and pick at the corner of the notebook.

“You let Andy take care of you too, huh? He’s worried,” he extends his arm, directing you to the door, “he’s a good friend of mine.”

“Uh, alright,” you murmur as he walks with you to the door. He rests his hand on the handle and you smell his cologne, rich but overwhelming. 

“It was really nice meeting you,” he turns the handle slowly.

“You too,” you squeak.

“See ya around,” he opens the door, “and remember, take care of you.”

“Thanks,” you keep your chin down as you exit.

Andy sits in the waiting room at the edge of his seat. He grips his knees and stands swiftly as he sees you. He must’ve been waiting a very long time. That felt like it lasted forever. The tension in his forehead slackens as you approach.

“How was it, honey? You okay?” He asks, his tone slightly addled.

“Yes, er, maybe,” you answer, “I don’t know.”

“What’s that?” He taps the top of the notebook.

“Um, a journal.”

“Steve gave that to you?”

You nod.

“That’s very nice of him. Well, how about we stop and buy you some nice pens to write in it?”

“You don’t have to…”

“I have to grab a few things,” he interjects, “I kind of… fell behind. I haven’t been out of the house, you know? I couldn’t leave you, I was so worried.”

“Oh? What about work?” You wonder tremulously.

“I had some time banked, it’s really not a big deal, but I gotta grab some groceries and we can look at some cute pens…”

“Can’t… can’t you do it later?”

He doesn’t answer right away. He rubs his beard and exhales. “Well, I’d have to drop you off and then come all the way back–”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you blurt out as you hear his disappointment, “I’m sorry, no, we can go, I just… I’m tired, is all.”

“It’s okay, honey. We’ll try to be fast, how about that?”

You nod and hide behind your lashes. Your guilt flows over and chokes you tightly. He brought you all the way here and missed work and it’s all your fault. Because you’re broken and useless.

“I’ll… I’ll try to make dinner,” you suggest, “Dr. Kemp says I should set goals.”

“Alright, sounds good,” Andy softens, “we should get going before it’s too busy.”

🕊️

You sit in the car, fluttering through the blank pages as Andy drives. You should write about your appointment. Put down everything that Dr. Kemp said before you forget. That’s a good plan. He’s right, it’s easy to set small goals.

“Hey, uh, I uh, can I talk to you?” Andy turns down the music.

“Er sure,” you shrug.

“Right, um, I wasn’t sure when to– or how to– I don’t wanna upset you, you know that, right? That I wouldn’t hurt you?” He begins, fingers tapping on the steering wheel.

You blink and stare at the dashboard, “I know, Andy. You’ve… done a lot for me.”

“I wouldn’t put it like that. It’s not… I don’t consider it a task, but er, the other day, I wanted to say sorry,” he clears his throat, squirming in his seat, “I should’ve knocked.”

Your throat tightens and you sit back stiffly. Your whole body locks up as the memory enshrines you. The damp air, the hot water, him staring at you, at your naked body.

“No,” you utter, “no, I don’t want to talk about it.”

He’s quiet as he turns the wheel, “sorry, sweetie, like I said, I don’t want to upset you. I just want… I’m just sorry for bursting in like that. I never want you to feel unsafe. Especially with me.”

“I… don’t,” you sniff, “it was just… a mistake. Can we forget it?”

“Sure,” he accepts, “yeah, let’s just forget it.”

“Thanks,” you lean into the door, watching the traffic through the window. 

Your body is covered in goosebumps. You feel like he’s seeing it all again. Just talking about it makes you feel exposed. What he must have thought about you. Hideous and gross.

“Here we are,” Andy says as the blinker clicks loudly.

He steers into a large lot and you peer up at the mall marquee. What are you doing here? You thought he was going to the grocery store?

“I got coupons for the place in here,” he explains as if reading your mind, “they just opened it, put it where the Target was.”

“Oh… I… never come here…”

“I think you’ll like it. They have everything– damn, not a lot of spots left. We’ll have to walk a bit.” He rolls into a space, “might be good for you to stretch your legs. We can always sit if you need to.”

You don’t argue. You feel bad enough. You won’t get in his way again.

“Sure.”

You get out and leave the notebook on the seat. Andy waits for you by the bumper and you follow him up the row of cars. You stop and wait to cross to the nearest entrance. The place is vast and makes your heart pound. There’s so many people coming and going through the many doors.

Inside, you feel a greater sense of doom. Shoppers brushing too close, teens speaking loudly in large groups, children screaming and mothers with strollers. Unthinkingly you grab onto Andy’s arm, keeping close to him.

“Hey,” he looks down at you as he leads you through the wide walkway.

“Just… don’t wanna get lost,” you cling to him tighter at the thought.

“That’s alright,” he smiles and looks around, “oh, hey…” He pulls you over to a shop window, “look at that.”

He points to the dress on the mannequin. It’s a nice shade of blue with the silhouette of birds patterned across it. Very pretty but you don’t wear dresses.

“Cute, huh?”

“Yeah.”

He stares, unmoving. You glance around. Where is the grocery store? You just want to leave this place.

“Come on,” he tugs you towards the entrance of the shop, “we can see if they have it in your size.”

“What? No. Andy. That’s okay. I don’t… I don’t need a dress.”

He stops just inside, “maybe, but do you want it?”

You chew your cheek, “I don’t know…”

“Look, you really don’t have that many clothes. I didn’t want to embarrass you but I spoke with Steve and he said… maybe it would be good to get you some new things. Like a refresh. Start new–”

“You said. You said we came to get groceries.”

“We did, honey, but I left this out. I was trying to surprise you. I thought– I thought it was a nice surprise.”

You see his expression fall. Oh no. You feel awful. You’re not trying to complain or be ungrateful, you just hate crowds and all these strangers.

“I… okay, it is nice. Andy,” you let go of him, “really, it’s so nice. No one ever… Amber always got me handmedowns, but I never…” you put your hands behind you and bounce on your toes, “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine, I know it’s all very new. I wasn’t trying to upset you or scare you,” he says, “maybe we could just look online.”

It’s clear he’s disappointed, if not agitated. You feel rotten. You remind yourself of all that he’s done and every time, you just whine like a baby.

“No, we can look around…” you try to smile.

He gives you a thoughtful look then peeks around the shop, “alright… well, you wanna try the dress on?”

You wince. You typically didn’t try things on at the thrift shop. You just picked things that looked like they would fit. The idea of getting undressed here, even in a private stall, is scary. Don’t be a baby.

“Okay,” you acquiesce, “I could do that.”

“Great,” he says and claps his hands.

He spins on his heel and you trail him as he confidently weaves between the tables and other shoppers. He stops before the dresses hung behind the window and sifts through the hangers. He slips one of the blue ones off the rod and holds it up.

“I think this is your size? I’m not sure.”

“Looks like,” you mutter, “um, I’ll… try it.”

“We can look at a few other things,” he offers.

“Maybe after?”

“Alright,” he searches around and flags down one of the employees, “excuse me, she wants to try this one.”

“Wonderful,” the woman chimes and takes the hanger from him, “just the one?”

“For now,” Andy smiles.

“This way, sweetheart,” the woman says as she beckons you with her long acrylic nails.

You follow her and Andy brings up the rear. She takes you around the counter and through a doorway. A row of stalls line the wall and she unlocks one with a key, hanging the dress inside. She steps back and leaves the door open for you.

“It’s all yours. Let me know if I can get you anything else. My name’s Isa.”

“Thanks,” you murmur mousily and she grins before strutting off.

“I’ll be out here,” Andy says as he sits on the bench.

You enter the changing room and close the door, certain to slide the bar through the loop. You turn and see yourself in the mirror. You flinch. You look down at your feet, refusing to acknowledge your reflection.

You undress then grab the dress. You pull down the zipper and shimmy it on. You strain to pull the zipper back up and fix the skirt so it hangs down properly. The skirt ends above your knees.

“Everything okay?” Andy calls from outside.

“Good,” you squeak and turn to face the door. You grab the side of the skirt, holding it firmly as you slide open the lock. You open the door reluctantly and reveal yourself. You clutch the other seam, “I think it’s a bit short.”

Andy looks at you. His cheek twitches as he sits up and smiles, “really? Looks fine to me…” he stares, making you squirm, “looks really nice on you, dove.”

“I don’t know…”

He nods and bites his lower lip, “it’s whatever you want.”

There it is again. Disappointed. You look down. It’s not that short and it is pretty. You could put a sweater over it and maybe some leggings underneath.

“I’ll get it,” you raise your head, “thanks, Andy.”

“Of course,” he says brightly.

You retreat into the dressing room and change back into your own clothes. You slip the dress back onto the hanger and bring it out with you. He takes it from you and guides you back into the shop. He stops you at a rack of jewelry.

“Look,” he grabs a silver necklace with a bird charm, “it’ll go with the dress.”

“Oh, sure,” you agree. Whatever he wants, you’ll get. You’d hate to overstep and you don’t exactly have a good sense of style. “Very pretty.”

“Let’s just have a look around, you never know… maybe find some nice shoes too?”

You nod and let him lead the way. As you progress through the shop, he picks out more things; some skirts, a sweater, some shirts, more jewelry, even some belts. He has an armful by the time you approach the checkout. You wring your hands. That’s a whole lot of stuff.

“Someone’s birthday?” Isa asks as she greets you at the counter.

“Uh, no, just… shopping,” Andy answers, “she needed a few things.”

“A few?” Isa scoffs, “I wish I had a husband who would spoil me with just a few things.”

“Husband?” You blanch.

Andy chuckles, “she deserves it.”

You notice how he doesn’t correct her. Maybe he feels too awkward. Like you.

“Sir, would you like to buy one of our membership cards? It’ll get you twenty percent off today’s purchase.”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” he pulls out his wallet, “how much?”

“It’s twenty dollars annually, gets you ten percent off every purchase.”

“Not bad, sure, why not? We might be back.”

“Andy,” you say softly.

He ignores you as he gets his card free. You watch the total mount as Isa scans each item. Somehow, this doesn’t feel like a favour. It’s just another number to add to the tally of what you owe him.

[wayfayrr]

aaaaaaahhh all i can think of is like- most isekai fics I've seen for some reason [i mean understandably] the reader is wearing their pajamas, but after visiting the modern world they can finally show the chain what they actually like wearing, [i can see this going in so many ways, depending on who is reacting, and especially depending on what aesthetic the reader likes to dress in. for the sake of the request ill keep it as dark academia, cause i love it so muchhhh [not so much in the summer, but i make it work lol] with time? [just imagining reader with a tie and just wearing business casual w a trenchcoat frrrrrrrr- might draw this kind of thing and send it to you lol]

Anon I hope you know this ask had me in an absolute chokehold. OUJDFNBJNF ✨I LIVE FOR DARK ACADEMIA AESTHETICS!!!✨ My trenchcoat is one of my favourite things I own. So I get your pain in summer as well 🥹

“Hey Time, have you seen Wild anywhere? He borrowed my laptop and I really need it back.”

“I haven’t sorry [nam]-... Is that what you wear normally? You look incredible.”

“Pretty much, yeah? Why, is there an issue with it?”

Time’s blushing. Is what I’m wearing really that impressive because I know he’s not blushing over what I’m wearing being revealing. A trenchcoat that goes down to my calves with the rest of my clothes? Does he just think I’m attractive or something? 

“No, no issue. You look good in it, it’s just very different to what you arrived in Hyrule wearing.”

“I know, like I said then those were my pyjamas. These are my casual clothes.”

Well, his blush has only gotten worse from that, so he is clearly struggling with how my clothes look on me. Dark academia doesn’t exist in Hyrule I know that, but really he’s struggling far more than anyone else has with my fashion sense. 

“Do you think you could help me choose some clothes like that? I’d like to match wit.. I think that style would suit me.”

“If you’d like, we can go shopping for you later. After I get my laptop back and finish off this report I have due.”

Laughing at how he's stumbling over himself to ask me these questions simply isn't an option, no matter how hard it is to hold myself back. He's asking so genuinely and so sweetly and who knows maybe getting some new clothes could help him adjust to this world more easily, I mean it certainly helped me when I was in Hyrule. How different could it be for time?

It didn't take too long to find wild after talking to time, and even less to finish off the work I had to do, now it’s just down to taking time shopping.

“So you want to look like you belong with a shot of espresso in an artisanal coffee shop while writing a research paper?”

“I only know what half of those words mean [name.], even less with how you’re using them.”

“Right, sorry. I’m still getting used to all of the differences in our cultures. Hopefully, you’ll get more used to the terms we use here sooner rather than later. Ready to go out though?”

“I am, it’ll be nice to get some new clothes. Not that I’m complaining about the excuse to wear yours.”

The nearest place that sells things like these isn’t exactly the closest to where I live, making it the perfect opportunity to adjust Time to my world’s transport. Well, more than he’s already seen anyway. Actually, now that I’m thinking about this, what size clothing even is he? Not that it’s an issue but not knowing a vague size is gonna mean he’s going to have to try on a lot of different fits. Then finding the right colours for him is a whole different challenge… And we’re already here… Time to find out the answers to those questions of mine.

“Where would you like to start?”

“A coat exactly like yours perhaps?”

“I don’t see why not. Any colour in mind or just the same style?”

A shrug was NOT what I wanted as an answer, but he does know what he wants which means that I’ve got somewhere to start. Trench Coats are somewhat pricey but with how some of the others are chipping in towards living costs now there’s no issue with spending out occasionally. He seems to be gravitating more towards things that are similar to mine, isn’t that charming? He sees something he likes on me then decides that’s what he wants for himself hopefully, he just stays away from the expensive ones. 

“You ready to try those on then, old man?”

“Just a moment more love, I can’t find quite the right colour yet.”

He just… How red is my face right now? It has to be crimson, doesn’t it? That’s the first time Time’s ever called me something like that naturally it’s when he’s looking at clothes like my own, is he trying to kill me with his charms?

[kickflippinginurheart]

I need help

I hate needing to make this post but the government is screwing me the fuck over, what’s new. This is a long story so scroll to the bottom if you just want the cliff notes.

I transferred from one college to another in the hopes of being safer, I was being targeted for my queerness and for not being white. So I moved to a new school that was much more accepting and (thankfully) cheaper to attend. I was supposed to get some money from Fafsa as a return which I would use for rent, as I live off campus. With rent taken care of I was planning on getting a job to take care of my groceries and anything else I wanted to do.

However, I never got my return. So I started making calls. My school told me they actually never got my Fafsa in, and I owe them money for this semester. So I start making calls to Fafsa asking what’s going on. They tell me why the issue was, that I need to make certain corrections, everything like that. I try my best to do so, but I start getting an error on my form. It won’t let me go past a certain section because a false error, so I can’t actually send in my corrections electronically. They’re unsure why I’m receiving this error and can do nothing to fix it.

The only option is to send me a paper copy of my form and have me fill it out and mail it back to them. It will take:

- 10-14 business days for me to receive the forms

- 2-3 weeks for them to receive and process it

- 2-3 business days for my school to receive and process it

And

- 3-5 days for me to receive my return

I need this money for rent, for cat food, and testosterone. By the time this money actually comes in I’ll be two months behind rent and at risk of being homeless, not to mention starving. My family gives me no financial support because of the fact I’m trans. I pay for my own testosterone, my own college and my own food.

I’ve been having a lot of trouble finding jobs because I’m also physically disabled. I walk with a cane and have days where my leg gives out and I can’t walk at all. Finding a place to work under these circumstances hasn’t been easy and still, two months after moving here, I haven’t been able to get one. I draw and can do commissions if anyone is interested, I’d just really appreciate any help I can get.

Thank you for reading this far

TLDR; the government is stopping me from receiving money and I’m at risk of going homeless and hungry

I’m on most money apps (PayPal, Venmo, cash app) as @ Heavytiredeyes and again, anything is appreciated

[ridhearts]

rest {vil x reader}

Vil comforts you after a rough day.

!! information !!

characters: vil

reader: gn

cw: none!

The Pomefiore lounge was only half-lit, a shadowed hallway leading to the far wall where Vil sat on one of the plush purple couches. The flickering candles cast him in a warm glow, bright enough to illuminate the papers on his lap so he wouldn’t have to strain his eyes to read. The scarce lighting, you knew, was meant to accommodate you; after so long of complaining about a persistent headache, even the densest of your companions (ahem, Grim) caught on.

Vil looked up from his papers and uncrossed his legs, though he made no move to stand. “Hello, sweet potato.”

“Hey,” you answered, barely stopping yourself from diving onto the couch. Still, you fell with little ceremony, laying across the cushions and resting your head on Vil’s lap. He scoffed, amused at your audacity, but didn’t say anything else about your manners.

“You’ve been making yourself scarce these days,” He commented, not unkindly. His voice lacked the usual firm and severe tone he used throughout the day, though anybody on campus could tell that he usually spoke softer around you. Still, this time he kept volume down to something soft and tender, wrapping around you, sound and snug.

“Headache.” You felt on of his hands gently rest on our head for a moment, carding through your hair and drawing soothing lines down your shoulder. “I was getting sick of being alone, though.”

“Forgive me for not offering a more thrilling activity.”

“This is perfect.” You didn’t think you could take any more than resting in a different spot, anyway. “I’m...sorry I haven’t been...much, lately.”

Vil stopped moving his hand, and you could practically hear the unimpressed expression he was giving you. Picturing that small, perfect scowl and the way he was arching an eyebrow, you almost laughed.

“You haven’t been much? Much of what?”

You shrugged. “Much of anything.”

Vil sighed before resuming the comforting pets he was giving you. “That’s simply not true. You’ve been recovering. And before that, you were going through a lot. Perhaps you still are. How are you feeling?”

After a pause, you shrugged and gave him a noncommittal hum. Those types of answers were never enough for him, though. “Better. Kind of. More manageable, at least. I’ll be back on my feet soon.”

Vil chuckled. “You don’t have to make promises to me. It’s important to take care of yourself. Take the time you need. I’m thankful that I got to spend some time with you at all today.”

You took a deep breath, holding it in for a few seconds and trying to focus on anything but the pounding pain in your head: his fingers running through your hair, the warmth of his leg beneath your cheek, the raised seam of the cushion digging into your hip, all of it. Slowly exhaling, you hummed again.

“Yeah. I am, too.”

[corn-fanfiction]

SAVIOUR COMPLEX (PT. 6)

(Pt. 5)

Rated: M

TAGS: language/past abuse/Mark Hoffman being a c*p/reader is normal and wants a normal life/Mark is protective bc it's his job but he's also problematic/because he's a c*p/Detective Gibson

**NOTE: Hey guys. Thank you so much for interaction with this fic, and I’m seeing a lot of new followers. I love that!! But I really need to stress right now how I do not support/endorse C*stas M*ndylor as a person or his opinions. He’s racist and I enjoy and only enjoy Mark Hoffman’s character. If you are a C*stas Stan, I highly encourage you to maybe cease interacting with this fic. **

Legs bouncing under the table. Hot coffee between your hands. Your makeup is smeared and not for any of the reasons you had hoped.

Ted is dead. The rhyme would be hilarious if you weren’t shitting bricks. You’ve been sitting in this interrogation room for 45 something minutes without a single word. Maybe they’re sweating you out. Can’t imagine why. You couldn’t talk if you wanted to without your nerves shooting up from your stomach.

You have no idea where Mark is. He had taken you back to the station with him but by the time you got there, someone was pulling you in for questioning. You couldn’t help but wonder if Mark’s in the same spot as you one room over.

Finally, finally, the door opens. A plain looking detective enters with a folder, sleeves rolled to his elbows, and takes a seat across from you.

“What time is it?” You ask weakly. He pauses like he wasn’t expecting you to talk first. He checks his watch.

“Uh, 2:37.”

You nod mutely and stare at the mirror over his shoulder.

“Can I ask a question?”

“Sure.”

“Why do you guys still do the one way mirror thing?” You nod to over his shoulder. “Everybody knows what it is because of the movies. So why bother?”

The detective just stares at you. You wonder if he’s stupid.

“You gonna tell me your name?”

He blinks, flips open the folder.

“I’m Detective Gibson. Sorry you had to wait so long.”

“Did you have more people to hassle?”

“That’s not fair. None of them were his ex.”

“But I still wasn’t top of the list?”

He digests your comment before chucking. “Alright, you got me. So we wanted you to sit for a little while.”

“A waste of your time and mine,” you mutter.

“Yeah, seems that you had a hot date with Detective Hoffman, is that right?”

“You gonna book me for conflict of interest?”

“Booking? Getting a little ahead of ourselves. I haven’t even had a chance to tell you what’s in the folder.”

“Nothing of substance.”

“No?”

“No, because there’s nothing there. Let’s just get this first bit out of the way. You don’t intimidate me. Am I here because you think I killed Ted? Is that it? You have a stack of 8 by 10 glossy photos of me with a black eye? How about a broken arm? And yet he never got booked for it.”

“Sounds like a motive.”

You chuckle humorlessly and bury your face in your hands.

“Uh-fucking-believable. Where’s Mark? You shaking him down, too?”

Gibson is quiet again, then shuffles the papers.

“Do you know where you were on July 9th?”

“Last Monday? Depends on the time. Probably work. If not work, home. Hey, you know who you could ask? The person you guys have had tracking my every move for two fucking weeks!”

He’s not smiling but you can tell the fucker is satisfied with your outburst.

“Admissible in court?” You scoff. “I don’t get it. That’s where I was. You don’t have a case. Let me go home so I can mourn and take off my makeup.”

He cocks his head. “Mourn?”

“He was a piece of shit but he was a human being, and I used to love him. I don’t care. No one deserves to die in one of those fucking monstrosities.”

“You draw a pretty clear line, morally.”

“Yes, it’s all a part of my master plan. Can I please go home?”

“Just a few more questions.” He pulls a specific photo. “Take a look at this for me.”

You look, and then grimace at the image. It’s Ted, his arms separated from his body, laying face down in a pool of blood and viscera.

“Jesus,” you groan. Tears start to pool at the corners of your eyes as you force your head over your shoulder.

“You barely looked.”

“I saw enough. Stop fucking with me. I told you all I know. I cut ties with him after his last stint. I don’t do anything. I’m a waitress. I don’t have friends, I don’t leave my apartment. I don’t do anything.” You realize halfway through your memorized spiel that you’re crying. “I don’t know why this shit is following me around but I don’t want it. Any of it. Please just let me go home.”

There’s silence as you shake and let the tears fall from your eyes.

You feel a hand come to yours and you jerk it away like it burned you, suddenly turning back to Gibson with a fury.

“Get the fuck away from me!” You hiss, backing up in your chair. Gibson raises his hands.

“Woah, okay, easy. Alright. I see no reason to keep you any longer. Come on.”

He replaces the papers in his folder and you both stand. You keep your distance but as he holds the door open you realize he’s going to make you pass him. You tense as you do so, feeling his scrutinous eyes on your back. You hate him, he’s an asshole, but you can’t get a read on him. Whatever. You’re exhausted. All you want to do is go home and sleep.

You stumble out of the interrogation room and into the main room of the station, heels in hand. The few people present are watching you. You only have eyes for the door at the end of the hall.

But then a hand is between your shoulder blades and you feel Mark’s heat next to you, smell his cologne. But he doesn’t follow you.

“What the fuck is your problem, Gibson!?”

You turn and Mark has Gibson's collar in a vice grip. Gibson shoves Mark’s hands from him and pushes his chest.

“I’m doing my job, Hoffman. Don’t forget, you’re a suspect too, and in danger of ‘reassignment’. Right?”

“You better keep your nose outta things before something happens to it.”

“Is that a threat?”

You grip Mark’s forearm and spin him around, digging your heels to peel him down the hall.

“Mark, come on, please. Please, let’s just go home. Please.”

Mark’s eyes land on you and they soften. You can’t even imagine what you must look like but you don’t care. You squeeze Mark’s arm.

He turns back to Gibson, straightens out his jacket, runs a hand through his hair, and then he’s walking you out of the station with his hand having returned to your back, content to let it remain there.

The trip back to your place is silent. You don’t even remember the last time you had your shoes on. You go straight for the bathroom and shut the door behind you, locking it. Take off your makeup. Brush out your hair. Stare at yourself in the mirror until your reflection becomes blurry and your knuckles are white as you grip grooves into the sink.

You pee, peel off your panty hose, strip down to your underwear.

Hoffman is leaning against the wall outside the door and he does a very good job hiding his reaction at your bare skin. You sigh anyway.

“Sorry- I wasn’t even thinking…”

“No, don’t worry about it. Come on. You need water?”

You nod and drag your feet to your bedroom. Distantly you can make out the sound of your sink in the kitchen. You manage to take off your bra- some scanty thing you’d picked out for Mark, and slip on a band tee. Mark returns to your side. He’s removed his jacket, rolled up his sleeves. He has a guiding hand taking you to your bed and you run your hands along his thick forearms.

“Alright, come on,” Mark half warns/half suggests you under your covers. If you were any more cognizant, you’d hate the way he’s walking you around like a child. But child or not, you need comfort.

He tries to turn away but you grab his wrist.

“Please, don’t leave. I don’t want to be alone.”

Mark sighs. “I don’t think…”

“No, not that. Just lay down with me, please. Or sit. Just please don’t leave me.”

Mark leaves your vision and you don’t turn your attention from the window that scared you shitless last week. Then you feel the bed dip at your back. Feel Mark’s strong arms slip across your stomach and rubbing circles into your shoulder.

You turn in to face his chest. Fiddle with the buttons on his shirt. Inhale the smell of him. You run your fingers along his jaw and press your nose to his. He doesn't move; in fact, his breathing has all but stopped.

You press wet lips to his but he doesn’t return. Just presses his lips together until you pull away.

“Not right now, sweetheart. Trust me, you’ll thank me in the morning.”

But he does kiss you on the forehead and you settle for curling into him and let his presence send you into sleep.

[ninchen1909]

The Teacher and the Mob Boss

Pairing: Mob! Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Very short mention of an traumatic childhood

I'm froom Germany so please excuse my English an possible mistakes.

enjoy:)

With a deep breath I turn off the engine of my car, let my forehead sink against the steering wheel and close my eyes. I struggle with the need to simply drive home again and snuggle into my bed, which I had to leave far too early this morning. But since I have to finance my love of food, wine and Netflix somehow, I quickly dismiss these thoughts and reluctantly open the car door to get out.

Immediately, the cool September air surrounds me and makes me shiver, in small but steady steps mother nature heralds the autumn and makes the trees that surround the school shine in the most colorful colors.

After grabbing my work bag and locking my car, I walk across the already well-filled school parking lot towards the main entrance. As I have done so many times before, I take the direct route to my classroom and unlock the door, which I immediately let fall back into the lock behind me so that I can enjoy the peace and quiet for a little while longer. I have already done most of the preparations during the holydays, so now I only have to wait for my 2nd graders,to greet them.

I'm just picturing the new school year in my mind when the door to my classroom is yanked open and my colleague is standing in front of me with her eyes wide open, clutching a single piece of paper in her left hand while still holding the doorknob with her right. Her chest rises rapidly and she is audibly out of breath.

I raise an eyebrow questioningly, "Good morning Wanda, is this your new way of early morning exercise?" I grin at her, however this is not reciprocated by her.

"How can you please be in such a good mood?", uncomprehending I look at her, with a shrug of my shoulders I let her know that I have no idea what she means. Wordlessly she hands me the paper.

"This is my class list, I already went through it during the holydays." I look at Wanda over the edge of the paper, her breathing has calmed down by now, but her eyes still look at me uncomprehendingly and also a bit pitifully.

"(y/n) you should read through the letter "B" again more carefully.", I let my eyes glide over the relevant place and indeed, there is a name there that I haven’t read before.

"Charlotte Barnes?", I draw my eyebrows together.

"She was enrolled during the vacations, and her father went to see the principal himself for this."

"Since when does Mr. Stark let parents interfere with his free time? And why are you making such a drama over a new kid?"

"We're talking about Barnes (y/n), James Barnes, Charlotte is his daughter, Barnes daughter will be going to this school, your class to be exact. James Barnes is the biggest ma..." The shrill ringing of the school bell snaps us out of our conversation, I jump up from my chair and rush to the door to greet my students. I look expectantly at Wanda and ask her to leave with a wave of my hand

"(y/n) please listen to m.."

"Wanda not now, I have to greet my students, we will talk later." It is clear to see that Wanda does not like this suggestion, however, she reluctantly leaves my classrooms. After I greet all my students and everyone has found a seat, I go through the attendance list, only to notice that one child is missing."

"Do any of you happen to know where Charlotte Barnes is?" no sooner do I finish this sentence than the door to my classroom is yanked open for the second time that day. Standing in the doorway is a tall, broad built man with ice blue eyes and dark blonde hair, in total contrast to him is a small, petite girl standing in front of him holding the straps of her "Paw Patrol" backpack tightly in her hands, she gives me a bright smile that reveals a gap in her teeth. With firm steps she approaches me and extends a hand "Hi, my name is Charlotte, sorry we're late but Uncle Stevie took too long to do my hair." I get down to her eye level, look briefly at her admittedly rather crooked braids and smile at her "Good morning Charlotte, my name is Mrs. (y/l/n), glad you're here, would you like to go ahead and find a seat." the little girl nods, beaming, and goes to find an empty seat.

"Mrs. (y/l/n) could I speak to you for a moment." "Uncle Stevie" nods his head towards the hallway, at my slight nod, he disappears towards the hallway

"Kids I'll be right back with you, you can talk quietly with each other for so long." No sooner have I spoken than the kids start whispering to each other about their vacation, I on the other hand follow "Uncle Stevie" out into the hallway.

"Mrs. (y/l/n), my name is Steve Rogers and I'm really sorry we were late, I just really don't have much practice with hair clips, usually her dad does her hair, he just had some urgent business to take care of."

"Mr. Rogers, as long as this tardiness was a one-time thing, it's really not a problem, however, I have to admit that it's very unusual for a child to not be brought by their parents on their first day at a new school, if they are still in the child's life."

"Believe me, her father would have loved to bring her, however, he really had to make this appointment urgently." Mr. Rogers takes a step toward me and eyes me appraisingly.

"I understand, however, in my opinion, work should never come before one's child, now if you will excuse me, I have to get back to my class."

Without waiting for a proper response, I give him a curt nod, turn and walk back to my classroom. As I stand in front of my class, I briefly gather my thoughts and try to banish the emerging images from my childhood back into the last cells of my consciousness, where they have been tucked away as best I can for years. Afterwards, I put on my best, if not most honest, smile for my class and begin the lesson.

The school day ends faster than I'd like and before I know it, I'm saying goodbye to my students and handing them over to their parents or the bus drivers.

Now it's just Charlotte and me standing in front of the school waiting for "Uncle Stevie" who’s going to pick Charlotte up.

Just as she is about to tell me her favorite dogs from "Paw Patrol", she interrupts herself with a loud "Papa" and rushes towards a tall man, who takes her in his arms, beaming with joy, and hugs her tightly. Slowly, I walk in their direction so as not to interrupt their greeting. When I finally stand in front of them, Charlotte grins at me and introduces me to her father: "Papa, this is Mrs. (y/l/n), she's my teacher and really nice." He takes note of this information with a grumbling "mhm" and grins at me before turning his attention back to his daughter, "Monkey, will you wait for me in the car, I'd like to talk to Mrs. (y/l/n) for a minute." He then holds the door of a white shiny Mercedes open for her to, which for some reason I hadn't noticed before, and helps her to fasten her seatbelt, when he has turned his back to me I start to examine him, in size and muscle mass he is in no way inferior to Mr. Rogers, his hair is cut short and only single strands of his brown hair hang down into his face. His steel-blue eyes are accentuated even more by his dark-blue designer suit, so that one could sink into it. I am able to escape my thoughts just in time as he carefully slams the door to his car, in which Charlotte is apparently engrossed in a radio play. He gives me a wry smile and extends his hand to me, "Hello Mrs. (y/l/n), my name is James Barnes, am Charlie's father, I thought I'd introduce myself since I learned through Steve that you think it's inappropriate for parents not to be present on the first day of school." Surprised, I look at his face, where a smug grin forms. Before I can answer him, he circles his car and opens the door, but before he gets in, he calls out to me, "It was nice to meet you, I'm sure we'll see more of each other." Puzzled, I look after the car as it drives away. My stupor doesn't last long, however, because shortly afterwards I feel someone approach me.

"I see you've met Mr. Barnes." Wanda looks at me auspicious, as if I've just revealed a huge secret, yet I can also see a spark of concern flashing in her green eyes.

"Yes I did, and I can tell you, I'm not a fan of him." I cross my arms in front of my chest and turn to her "he's arrogant and smug" a disdainful snort escapes me as my gaze settles back on the spot where his car was just a few minutes ago.

"(y/n), you should really be careful with him and not give him a reason to get angry." she gently places her hands on my folded arms, a silent plea to look her in the face.

"Why would I do that, I'm not going to treat him any different than any other parent, just because he walks around here in designer suits and whizzes by in luxury cars doesn't make him any better. Who does he think he is anyway."

"He's the biggest and most dangerous mob boss in our country, that's who he is."

And with this sentence from Wanda, the air gets stuck in my throat, and I look at her with eyes widened in terror.

[n3llieelle]

Can you do Leon comforting Reader bcs of a Bad haicut? (Sry english isnt my first language, and my Hair looks so shit rn its making me cry)

uhmm… Yes I will because I feel so fucking bad for you and I hope you recover from your shitty haircut? 💋💋

This fic is really short, but I tried to do you some justice and leon fixes up your hair for you <3

I finished this so fic fast like holy shit-

This day was absolutely horrible.

The hairstylist fucked your hair up and your forced to go home to your boyfriend looking like shit without a way to fix it, but surely it isn’t that bad right?

I mean…it really was BAD. everybody stared at you and laughed and whispered and pointed, some people even started to pity you. The worst part about this whole mess is the fact you didn't know why they were doing that in the first place.

It just wasn't normal for them to be so mean towards you. You knew how to handle people being mean to you but this was something else entirely. You weren't used to these types of things.

You walked down the streets with your head down staring at your feet, trying to hide from everybody's eyes. You tried hard not to let their stares bother you too much, because they weren't your fault. You could do nothing wrong. You'd been here before so many times, after all, it probably wasn't as bad now that you thought back on it. Right?

But, oh god, did it suck. Every time someone looked at you they laughed and snickered. And, oh god…when you thought this could get worse you run into your boyfriend on the way back down the street to your house as he is getting the mail. He doesn't see you and doesn't notice you.

Your eyes go wide as you try to get away from him without drawing attention to yourself but unfortunately, you're walking too fast and he catches up with you quickly.

His arms are crossed over his chest. His expression is unreadable as usual. You look at him nervously for a second before you can feel a hand land on your arm. "Y/N," Leon says softly. You wince internally.

"We need to talk." That's when he notices your hair. "What happened to your hair?" His voice sounds kind of angry and hurt.

Oh my God…he's going to hate me or dislike it right?.

He always does. You swallow thickly as you glance to the side nervously. "Did your hairdresser do that?" He asks, sounding annoyed. You nod slowly.

He looks surprised for a moment, maybe even a little hurt. “Lets get you home, I had a feeling that something has been making me feel uneasy today.” You don’t say anything, you don’t want to argue. He pulls you along behind him, his long black coat swishing against the cement as he walks.

As you both walk inside he guides you to take a seat and he tries his beat to comfort you. “Do you wanna tell me what was bothering you?” He asks quietly. You shrug in response, still staring at your hands folded in your lap.

He sighs heavily. “Okay. If you want to keep quiet then we will.” That makes you look up and stare at him in surprise.

“Just let me make you atleast feel better than before.” Leon takes some scissors and a brush and touched your hair up with gentle motions. He hummed in approval when he finally finished and went to grab some paper and a pencil from the kitchen. “I have no idea why you haven’t had an idea to ask me to cut your hair before, it might help make you feel more comfortable rather than letting some hairstylist make it shitty.”

He pauses for a second before starting to gaze into your eyes through the mirror, which made you feel as if he was eye fucking you. Your cheeks flushed pink. “It looks fine. Better than fine even. Just keep it that way. You’re beautiful.” Your heart jumped at how sweet he said those words.

His fingers brushed across your cheek gently before returning to cutting your bangs into a short style. You closed your eyes as he gently pulled you in for a small kiss, then a few minutes later he was done fixing your hair. “Thank you,” you mumbled as he set the scissors and the paper aside.

“You’re welcome. I hope that helped a bit,” Leon replied, placing a kiss on your forehead as he got up. You felt butterflies erupt in your stomach and you smiled softly.

Your boyfriend always managed to make your mood improve somehow even if it wasn’t necessarily intentional. He gave off an aura that seemed to make everything okay again, even the most difficult days. Even just talking about you made him happier than anything and he was very good at that sort of thing.

You couldn’t believe you found such amazing boyfriend.

[v3nusxsky]

Hello! Hope all is well hun! Love your agere stories so much! Was hoping to request one!

Enid goes to Larissa curiously since they haven’t seen teacher reader all morning and skipped morning classes. Reader is in their room and they’ve regressed without realizing after having a rough week. You can put you’re own twist to it

Struggling baby?| Agere

*Authors note~ I didn't know how much I needed this until I started to write it. Thank you for the prompt*

Trigger warnings~ Agere little r momma l

Prompt~ see ask^^^^

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You were the potions teacher at Nevermore Academy, all while dating the one and only Larissa Weems. You had your past, just like everyone else, but your methods of with that were ones you didn't want anyone to know about. You feared they would judge you, after all it was unusual for an adult your age to regress. Well truthfully it shouldn't matter but you knew first hand how cruel people could be.

Larissa was wonderful when she accidentally found out by catching you in your little state. You'd created a potion for that allowed you to look younger giving the regression a more realistic feel for you. It was rare that you used it though, only on particularly stressful slips. You had no care giver which made slipping harder until Larissa found you. She took you under her wing, immediately reassuring you that it was okay and you were safe. She knew your past and if this was how you coped then she would do her best to support you. That was the day your little found your momma.

Larissa hadn't heard from you since you her office this morning, she knew you'd have a busy schedule today so it wasn't too much of a concern. But just before your last lesson before lunch, the blonde, haired blue and pink ends wearwolf, came knocking on her door. "Miss Sinclair shouldn't you be in potions now?" She murmured sparing a quick towards the young girl. "Principal Weems, yes but miss Y/l/n hasn't shown up and I thought you should know. Has class been cancelled?" She pondered.

That was most peculiar. You'd never not attended without informing Larissa and you always had a good reason why. So unfortunately Larissa had no reason to give the young girl. "Take it as a study period Enid, I'll go check on Miss Y/n now. Thank you for letting me know." Larissa informed as she stood in to leave alongside the student.

Larissa quickly made her way to your room, her first port of call. Her mind conjuring up all the possibilities for why you teaching your lessons. How long had you not been at work? What if you were hurt or really sick? But there had been none of your warnings signs for regression so she hadn't thought it would be a possibility until she laid eyes on you.

"Precious girl are you little right now?" She murmured coming in the room to crouch down next to you. There you sat scribbling on some paper in a variety of colours only to look at her with tears in your eyes and nod. "Need be indapendant" you stated as if it was a matter of fact. "Baby, momma is here you don't need to be independent" she reassured opening her arms to you as an invite. "Cuddl?" You whimpered to your momma as she nodded with a smile. She doesn't think you've ever moved quicker than you did now, scrambling to clamber into her lap, nose nuzzled into her neck.

After a few moments there with Larissa stroking through your hair, "momma?" You whispered catching her attention. "Mm precious girl?" She hummed. "I pic you?" You stated happily flying off her lap to grab it and proudly bring it to you. There you proceeded to point and babble of your drawing, a drawing you thought was a very flattering picture of your momma. "That's brilliant pretty girl. Momma is very proud, how about I put it on my desk?" She murmured as you smiled so brightly nodding your head in agreement.

"Wuvs you we gets snack?" You mumbled pointing to your belly. Larissa would do absolutely anything for you, so if you wanted a snack you'd get a snack. She may not know why you've regressed so quickly, clearly you had no clue either, but she'd care for you with just as much love and care as she always did.

Word count~ 749

[marvelsage]

Wednesday & Wick

THREE

SETTING: FESTIVAL

“Hello, Wednesday.” You were throwing darts when you felt her familiar dark presence near the booth.

“Y/n.” She picks up the darts aswell and starts to play. She gets practically all of them but stopping at the last.

“Didn’t think you’d stick around for this.” Setting up for another round of darts.

“I’m not, it’s apart of my plan.” Nodding, she pops the last balloon and then turns to watch you play.

“Right… let me guess Tyler?” She marvels silently at how at ease you were with throwing the darts.

“How’d you know?” Popping the last balloon you take the panda and turn your full attention to her.

“Lucky guess, here.” She takes the panda confused but obviously doesn’t show it.

“For Ms.Weems.” You head off nodding to Xavier as he approaches next. Not long passing Tyler and an itch to turn back comes over you. You spot Rowan and head in his direction.

“Hey Rowan…” You trailed off as whispers filled your ears, you couldn’t make out much of what they were saying.

‘beware’

‘mothers lingering’

‘Wednesday’

‘save them’

“Wick! Hey!” The whispers stop at once and Rowans hand on your shoulder snaps you of it.

“Hey you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m alright, sorry spaced out there. You doing alright, Rowan. You haven’t been eating too much cotta candy right? We don’t need a repeat of last year.” You swung you arm over his shoulder and start walking in a random direction.

“No I’ve made sure to steer clear of that. And I’ve been the same as usual.” You know he’s lying as he fidgets with his glasses and nervously looks around. You stop and stand in front of him with your hands on his shoulders.

“Don’t lie to me, Ro. What’s going on? Is it the thing with your mom and her drawing?” He blanches and stutters to come up with an excuse but you pat his shoulder to calm him down.

“Hey, it’s alright.”

“No it’s not! I-I need to stop her- you should help considering it has to do with you as well seeing as you-” You let go of him slowly and step away.

“I didn’t tell you those things so you could use it against me.” You could feel his aura getting frustrated.

“Fine, I’ll handle it then.”

“Rowan! Come on! Rowan!” He storms off somewhere determined and you spin around deciding to look for Wednesday instead. You catch a whiff of her scent and follow it, through the crowd you spot her and Tyler rushing pass and not too far from them is the three musketeers. Brushing pass everyone you dodge the the three and come up a little behind them as she knocks into Rowan.

‘the prophecy’

‘she’s the raven’

‘perched on the blazed tree’

‘Rowan done’

‘He’s gone’

‘Gone���

‘Gone’

‘DEAD’

“Wick! Hey Y/n!” You come to seeing Xavier holding you up. Shakily you stand on your own looking around for Wednesday.

“Where is she?” You mumble stepping away from him.

“Where’s who?” You catch a glimpse of her disappearing in to the woods.

“I gotta go”Running around him, you trail behind Rowan and Wednesday as you all cross the bridge.

“Rowan, wait!”

“What do you want? Why are you following me?”

“I don’t have time to explain, but you’re in danger.” You slowly approach the scene staying out of sight.

“I think you’ve got it backwards.” You felt your demons holding you back as he flies her to the tree.

“You’re the one who’s in danger.”

“What are you doing?”

“Saving everyone from you. I have to kill you.” Your eyes flash amber as your feet digs into the dirt from being restrained.

“The gargoyle, that was you?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s always the quiet ones.” A paper flew from his pocket and unfolded to show the drawing from the book. He goes on about his mother and how it was his destiny to stop the girl in the drawing. You felt the release your demons had on you when he increased his powers.

“Rowan!” His shock caused him to drop Wednesday, you catch her before she could hit the floor and push her behind you as the mysterious monster came up behind Rowan.

“Rowan!” You were too late as the monster picks him up and slash his gut open. It looks back to growl at you both causing you to flash your eyes and send a challenging snarl. It flees letting you rush to Rowan’s side, you already knew he was gone.

“He’s gone.” Wednesday kneeled beside you a bit shocked, she watched as you place a hand above his face and a grey smoke slips from his mouth.

“What are you doing?”

“Protecting his soul.”

“Why?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“There’s more to you than you lead on isn’t there?” Standing you look at Rowan one more time before turning to her and shake your head softly.

“Don’t worry about it.”The paper from earlier gliding to his chest catches her attention. She takes it and stands as well.

“Did you know he was going to do this?”

“No alright and if I did I would have stopped him earlier and prevented this from happening, but it did.”

“Why would you care about what happens to me?” Turning back around sighing, over this whole situation. The fact was this whole death thing wasn’t new to you, perks of being what you are. But very few times did it involve those you somewhat took a liking to. Wednesday Addams, although you’ve only known her for like a day, has come to be one of those people you somewhat tolerate to be around.

“You really need to start making friends, Wednesday.” She steps closer looking up slightly to meet your eyes and the urge to dig up those enticing dark thoughts come over again.

“I don’t need anyone, Y/n.” Analyzing her facial structure to direct your attention elsewhere leads you to her lips and then back to her eyes.

“I know, and that’ll be your downfall…Come on we gotta go.” You didn’t see it cause you had turned away but the expression Wednesday normally worn, frowned the tiniest bit.

—————————————————————————————————

@darlingtwice @e-dollly @gengen64 @mrchiipchrome @frogtits1

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

If You Can't Dance 5

Warnings: dubcon, noncon, other possible triggers. Proceed with caution.

Note: this is what you get when you encourage me. Please leave any and all feedback! 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

Part of The Club AU

You realise too late you have no idea where you’re going or what you’re doing. You just needed to be free of your humiliation. You find a room with a facilities placard on the door and dip inside. The bathroom is empty as you pump the lever on the paper towel dispenser. You take the length of two ply and fold it until it’s thick enough to sop up the tea on your shirt.

Not wanting to further embarrass yourself, you keep it in hand, keeping up the act of drying yourself as you make yourself back to the conference room. You can hear Jonathan’s voice on the other side. You take the opportunity to squeeze in the door and avoid looking at anyone as you tiptoe back to the table.

G is standing by your chair, slightly bent as he uses napkins to clean up the droplets of tea. There’s a fresh cup just to the side with a new teabag in steaming water. He looks up as you approach and you mouth a thanks as he switches your chair with a dry one. You sit and he pushes the new cup towards you.

You cup your cheeks, elbows on the table as you try to focus. There’s movement at the edge of your vision. You peek over and see G twisting a ring on his finger. He doesn’t seem as anxious as he does disinterested.

Your chest aches as you heat continues to hammer. You teeter on the precipice of doom. This is why you work from home, why you stay inside. You don’t associate with people because you’re not like them. You’re stupid and lame and you don’t belong.

You feel yourself shaking as your eyes sting. No, you won’t cry. You’re not in high school any more. You’re at work. You need to just get through this. Like an adult.

You realise how you haven’t taken in a word of what Jonathan’s said. It’s made all the more obvious as his eyes meet yours and the corners of his lips twitch. You gulp and quickly flick your gaze down to the table. You’re making all the wrong choices today.

You concentrate on the steam rising from the tea, listening to Jonathan’s voice as he presses on. He has that sort of confidence that you aspire to, the type you’ll never have. He is the type that makes you feel so small.

🖱️

Just after noon, there’s a break for everyone to top up their coffee or tea and claim some of the sandwiches brought in for lunch. You’re not very hungry so you stay at your table. G disappears but doesn’t head for the table of food. You don’t linger on his absence, even his presence isn’t very noticeable.

“Pardon,” a voice draws you out of your dread. You lift your head and look past Jonathan as he puts his hand on the back of an empty chair, “do you mind if I sit?”

You shake your head and tuck your chin down. You stare at your folded hands as he pulls the chair back and sits. He puts down a cup and plate with a croissant sandwich. He doesn’t touch either as you languish in silence.

“I’ve been talking all day it seems, it’s nice to have a break,” he intones.

“Yeah,” you agree softly.

“What about you? Not hungry?” He prompts.

You shake your head again. His long fingers flutter over the table top. He shifts in his chair.

“You got your peppermint tea,” he points to the tag dangling from the tea bag.

“Uh, yeah.”

Your blunt answer and lack of explanation has him quiet again. He traces two fingers in a circle. He clears his throat.

“Are you alright? That tea must’ve been hot. I wish I’d had the chance to check earlier but you were so quick–”

“Fine,” you insist, “just hot water.”

“Of course,” he accepts kindly, “I’m not meaning to embarrass you.”

“I wasn’t embarrassed,” you lie and grab your empty cup, drawing it closer.

“Right, of course, just an unfortunate accident,” he says, “we’ll have a little longer here and then after, we will show you all to your work spaces. I suppose you’re eager to settle in.”

You nod. You’re not eager at all. You don’t want to work here, you want to be at home. Why does he have to change everything? And why does he have to make it all seem like he’s helping?

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like a bite to eat? Maybe grab something before they’re all gone. You could save it for later,” he offers.

“No, thank you,” you say to the table.

You flinch as a shadow appears across from Jonathan. G sits down with a word. He pulls out his phone and scrolls. Jonathan stares at him, almost expectantly, but getting nothing he clears his throat.

“Hello, G, was it? Jonathan, it’s nice to have you on our team,” Jonathan says with his usual charm.

With no response, not even a glance, Jonathan opts instead to pick up his sandwich. He nibbles the edge as you set in the sludge of tension at the table. You peek at him and he gives you a sheepish smile.

“Um,” you crumple the paper cup in your hand unthinkingly, “I’m going to throw this out.”

You stand up, happy to have an excuse to escape. You can’t say who’s worse; the one who never talks or the one who talks too much. Together, they are the perfect storm of nope.

[fahbev]

More shit for my dpxdc merfolk au!

No I’m not censoring boobs. I have Opinions TM on this matter, don’t get me started. Basically: If mermen don’t get their nipples censored by unnecessary clothing, neither do mermaids.

I’m trying to have some diversity with body types in these designs, for no reason other than wanting some variety.

For Cass [Sting Ray] I can’t really decide on a body type I like for her. I’ve drawn her before with the “conventionally attractive girl body type” (bc that was my reference pic and I turned it into Cass lol) and I liked it bc she’s fine like that. But I also love her being more bulky/muscular like she is in WFA. But for this design, I am spreading my Chubby Cass Propaganda TM. Okay, she’s not that chubby, but I like the idea of her moving past her whole living-weapon thing and gaining some weight bc she’s not training 24/7 anymore. Obviously she’s still very physically fit ofc; she’s the best fighter in the world.

Steph I kept exactly how she is in canon bc she’s already perfect just the way she is. Though I am considering making her a bit more muscular.

Dick’s also pretty similar to canon, but I made him a bit slimmer. I always imagined him as more of a lean muscle kind of guy but dc loves giving all of it’s characters of the same gender the same exact body type.

Duke I made more square. He’s based on an eel so the rectangle body just made sense to me.

Jason’s just huge and Damian’s just small.

Next up is Babs. Then comes Bruce and Tim. Danny’s last bc I haven’t figured out what fish he’s gonna be yet lol. The rest of the fentons are human so I don’t really need to redesign them so much besides maybe different clothes.

FURTHER RAMBLING UNDER THE CUT bc i put a lot of thought into these

Steph is a betta fish. Ik that doesn’t make much sense bc they’re tropical (i think?) and domestic and like super aggressive and only the male ones have those pretty fins— but suspend your disbelief! She a mermaid. I’m using some real science but some of it’s just me playing with fish like dolls. ANYWAY! The reason she got fired in this au was bc her long, beautiful fins were way too fragile and Bruce stopped it bc she got hurt too easily. Nowadays she binds her fins close to her body and attaches fake ones for swimming as Spoiler. Either that or they’re not vigilantes at all in this au, I’m still deciding. I also based her hair on her Robin look.

Dick is a flying fish, bc of COURSE he’s a flying fish. What else would he be, huh? I have visions about him jumping out of the water and sailing over or onto the Fentons’ boat. The transition on his waist is supposed to mimic the nightwing symbol if you can’t tell. That’s another design element I’m trying to vary— fish to flesh transitions.

Cass is a Sting Ray. She was originally gonna be a manta ray, but when i looked it up, sting rays were the ones with the more round shape i wanted. Mantas had much bigger wings, which were absolutely not gonna fit on this paper. But sting rays are cool! They’re super friendly, some aquariums have little “petting zoos” where you can pet the sting rays! And also, yk, stinging. I’m betting the ones at the aquarium didn’t have stingers that can affect humans tho. I may have to do further sting ray research. Yes that bigass thing is attached to her back everywhere except for her neck and the base of here head (bc i love drawing hair too much). Her arms are, ofc, not attached to it. I made her a ray in the first place bc they have very good camouflage at the bottom of the ocean. I saw this picture of a ray blending in but it was ominous af. It felt perfect for her.