#specifically at the end of control freaks

[noturlondonboy]

Me Without You

Katelena Angstshot

Pairing: Kate Bishop x Yelena Belova

Summary: Kate and Yelena get into a horrific car crash the same day that Yelena is planning to propose.

Warnings: major injuries, car crash, blood, talk of/implied adult content, gore, hospital stay, coma, memory loss, angst, mental illness, more angst, me making up medical stuff, swearing, did I mention angst yet

Positive!Content warnings: Wandanat, baby Billy and Tommy, Katelena fluff

A/N: Yes this is super angsty and kinda stupid and doesn't make sense but I swear on my life that no one dies and it has a happy ending so read it anyway :)))

This is NOT edited because my draft didn’t save and I am not about to redo all of it rn so

"Kate Bishop, if you touch that volume button again, I swear to god I will kick your ass so hard it flies out your fucking mouth."

Kate freezes with her hand on the dial, looking guilty as hell. "But it's so quiettttt." She had been blasting Mother Mother for the past ten minutes until Yelena's brain had exploded and she turned it down- she couldn't handle listening to it the entire drive to Clint's place. The morning had already been overstimulating enough.

Yelena pins her with a stare when they reach a red light. "I'm the one driving, which means I'm in control of the volume, if not the music. Hands off."

The archer pouts and slumps back in her seat, folding her arms over her chest. "You had the aux cord when I was driving yesterday," she whines.

"You didn't fight me for it," Yelena points out. She reaches over and cups Kate's chin, pulling her girlfriend's face close to press a soft kiss against her lips. "Cheer up, little hawk. You can have it on the way home."

Kate's demeanor immediately brightens, and she presses forward to kiss Yelena a little harder, holding it for a moment even after the light turns green and the car behind them honks. Yelena breaks off and presses on the gas frantically, her cheeks burning, and Kate laughs softly.

"You're so cute when you blush, baby," she says, leaning her chin in her palm to stare at her girlfriend's side profile as she drives their little Mitsubishi.

Yelena's grin is wide and bright, albeit shy. "Shut the fuck up, Kate Bishop," she says lovingly.

"I love youuuu, Lena."

"I love you too, stupid."

Kate settles back in her seat, rather satisfied with herself as she watches the snowy road go by. It was a little early for them to get snow, but a freak storm had blown in last night and iced the roads over, and Kate wasn't going to complain either way. She thought it was pretty.

"What if I turn your song on? Then can it be louder?" she asks after a couple minutes, the last notes of Hayloft fading out.

Yelena purses her lips in thought. "I suppose so," she concedes. Kate hums and pulls her phone out to find American Pie on Spotify and happily turns the volume back up.

They both sing and dance along once the lyrics start, and Kate's cheeks hurt with how much she's smiling when she replays the song. Yelena always straightens up a bit more to this music specifically, and the way she seems to glow as she dances to it makes butterflies erupt in Kate's stomach.

"You're beautiful- you know?" Kate mutters, watching Yelena with soft eyes. The blonde grins again and turns to her girlfriend at another red light, pulling her close once more to press a searing kiss to her mouth.

"And you, Kate Bishop, are very charming." She reaches a hand up to cup the archer's cheek and kisses her deeper, smoothing her thumb along her strong jawline.

Kate grins into Yelena's lips, and leans back again with a content sigh when the light turns green. They would be at Clint's in about ten minutes. "Thanks, Lena. I try."

A soft chuckle. "You're beautiful too, detka."

Kate blushes despite herself and gives a happy sigh. "God, I am so gay. This is so gay. We're so gay. I love being a lesbian."

Yelena barks a laugh this time. "I would hope so, Kate Bishop! We've been dating for six years." Even as she says it, she's consciously aware of the ring box in her left pocket, heavy and waiting. Her heart glows, and another smile has her dimples popping out.

"What's the grin for?" Kate asks, poking at Yelena's cheek.

"Just excited to see Wanda and Natasha." The two women had twins just a few months ago before they moved back from New York, so neither Yelena or Kate had been able to meet the new baby boys. They were staying with Clint and Laura's family until they found a new house, probably somewhere in Ohio.

Kate coos loudly, squishing her own cheeks. "Oh my goodness, I'm so excited to meet Billy and Tommy. The pictures they sent are so darling- I'm gonna die, Lena."

Her girlfriend reaches a hand over to squeeze her thighs. "Do you think you'd ever want kids, Kate Bishop?" They had talked about their future over and over before, but now with the two of them having a set of new nephews, the option of a family felt more real.

Kate twines their fingers together and lifts Yelena's hand to kiss her scarred knuckles. "As long as they're with you, Yelena."

"God- you really are cheesy." The assassin is still blushing furiously either way, and she marvels at how well Kate is able to turn her all gooey even after crushing on her for years and years.

"I can't help it," Kate says cheekily.

"No, god, you really can't, can you? You'd probably keel over and die if you ever tried to be serious for once in your life."

Kate punches her shoulder lightly and leans over the center console to smack a wet kiss on her girlfriend's cheek. "Shut up, loser."

Yelena just cackles and turns to the archer. "You know I'm right!"

"Yeah, yeah." Kate hums a laugh and settles into her seat, gazing out the window. "I love the snow."

"I know, darling."

"Maybe we can take the twins sledding."

"We can't take four-month-olds into this weather, Kate Bishop. They'll get sick."

"Booooo."

"Dummy."

"Asshole."

"Fucker."

Kate grins. "Damn right I am."

"Kate!" Yelena's jaw drops, and her face is absolutely blazing. Her girlfriend just cackles.

"You sure weren't complaining last night when I used the new str-"

"Kate Bishop! Shut up! I'm trying to drive!" Yelena can feel her stomach pooling with heat, which is rather distracting when she's trying to navigate their car over icy roads.

Kate gives a shit-eating grin and waggles her eyebrows. "I brought it with me in my bag."

Yelena's skin feels like it's being torched, and her jaw drops so hard she swears she can feel it hit the seat under her as she whips her head away from the road to glare dumbly at Kate "You what?!"

Except that there's a patch of black ice right in front of their car, and when she takes her eyes off of the road, the tires choose to go skidding right at that moment.

It happens too fast.

Kate is shouting, reaching over to Yelena. The assassin's hands are wrenching frantically at the wheel, and there's a truck horn blaring from all directions- one second, two, and then a screeching crash erupts around them.

The world goes black.

——

Yelena's head feels like a horse is kicking into it repeatedly, and something hot and sticky is dripping into her eye as she slowly comes to. The pavement is scorching beneath her hands, digging into the flesh of her raw palms that have been scraped open on the road. She groans and blinks fruitlessly, each action slamming lighting into her brain.

What the fuck just happened?

Her legs are twisted uncomfortably underneath her, but as she regains enough consciousness to assess the rest of her body, she concludes that nothing is numb to the point of paralysis, probably due to the adrenaline flooding her system.

Where's Kate?

A spike of strength spears through her, and Yelena shoves herself to her shaking feet, biting back a scream and wrapping an arm around her torso when her ribs wrench with pain. The burning wreckage of the car crash in front of her is horrific- she doubles over her bleeding knees and empties her stomach on the pavement when she sees it.

Their car is completely demolished, with the truck that slammed into them not looking that much better, and Yelena is sick for a second time when she spots the damage done to her driver's side. She should be dead. How is she not dead?

Where is Kate?

Yelena opens her mouth to call for her girlfriend but chokes as blood floods over her tongue, and she realizes with a dull pang of horror that she bit into it in the collision so hard that the flow of sticky red is almost gushing.

A problem for later.

She forces the pain away and frantically stumbles closer to the crash, legs shrieking. "Kate!" she screams out, her mouth on fire as blood continues to sputter from her lips. "Kate!"

The car is in flames, and oil and gasoline are dripping dangerously from the twisted metal. "Kate! Please!"

There.

She spots her girlfriend as fire starts to crawl towards her, and Yelena lets out a wail as she forces her legs to go faster. The archer is sprawled out awkwardly on her belly with her cheek pressed into the pavement, blood pooling underneath her head and legs. Shallow breaths are pushing at her chest, but they're wet and raspy.

Yelena can feel the sobs shaking her own body, but sound has begun to fade from her senses, and all she knows is the heat of Kate's blood on her hands as she scrambles to pick the unconscious woman up. Kate's body is a dead weight over her shoulders. Yelena drags the two of them as far away from the crash as she can, and when they reach a spot of snowy grass on the side of the road, she's distantly aware of frantic voices and the wailing of sirens.

"Kate," she sobs, dropping herself and her girlfriend down into the snow. Red immediately begins to stain it. The archer has not stirred, and when Yelena sees the damage down to her face and head, she's sick for a third time. Her head spins mercilessly.

"Please, no."

But Kate is still breathing, so Yelena curls herself around her girlfriend and moans at the pain throbbing through her body.

"Kate Bishop, please. Please."

The ambulance cannot come fast enough.

——

Natasha is there when Yelena wakes up in the hospital, and she stares at her older sister for a few seconds before the redhead realizes she's awake.

"Oh, Yelena," she murmurs, getting out of her chair and hurrying to the side of Yelena's bed, leaning over her to hug her carefully.

"Tasha," Yelena whimpers, reaching out for her sister. Her entire body is aching mercilessly, but the pain dulls once she's wrapped in the love of her family.

Natasha holds her close and gets onto the hospital cot with her sister, brushing a hand through her tangled hair and kissing a bandage on her forehead. "What happened?" she asks softly.

Yelena's eyes immediately well up with tears, her face twisting painfully. "I got distracted, Tasha. There was a truck. And then I- I woke up on the road, and Kate-" She screws her eyes shut, a sob building painfully in her chest. "Is Kate okay, Tasha? Is my Kate Bishop okay?"

Natasha sucks in a breath, and Yelena's heart stops for a moment. "She still hadn't woken up by the time the ambulance got you guys here, and she's in surgery now. Clint is waiting outside her room for any updates."

Yelena can feel her tongue throbbing when she sucks it in between her teeth, and she remembers the blood she spit out of her mouth. "She was bleeding so much, Tasha," she cries softly, bringing a bandaged hand up to cover her burning eyes. "I thought she was dead when I first found her. Oh my god. I could have lost her. Oh my god."

Natasha hugs her closer and tucks Yelena's head under her chin as her little sister begins to sob and hiccup into her chest, rubbing gentle circles into her shoulder and laying her cheek on golden hair.

"She's gonna be okay, Yelena. She'll be okay."

Yelena clings to her like a lifeline and wills herself to believe it as the tears soak her face.

——

Kate is officially pronounced to be in a coma two days before Yelena is discharged, and she's losing her shit. She hasn't been allowed to see her girlfriend the entire time she was still stuck in the hospital due to her own injuries, but she's able to stand up without getting too dizzy now and she's already used to the crutches needed for her sprained ankle.

The wound that she had bitten into her tongue had apparently looked and felt a lot worse than it actually was, and Yelena was already back to being able to eat soft foods, and the cut above her eye was scabbed over. Now the only real problems were the bruised ribs and burns on her palms- an annoyance more than anything, but still a major hindrance.

"Am I allowed to see her, now?" Yelena asks anxiously, cornering the doctor that had been sent to officially discharge her before he can leave.

The man sighs and scribbles a few more things down on his clipboard before checking his watch. "Once your sister is here to get a rundown of your at-home care, yes, we can take you to see Miss Bishop."

Yelena resists the urge to tear out her own hair and instead nods gratefully, her fingers pressing into her thighs through the soft pants she'd been given to wear. She'd been offered the option of a wheelchair over the crutches, seeing as her palms were still healing and the sticks were even harder to use without perfectly working hands, but that was too much for Yelena. Being in the hospital again at all was enough trauma to keep her away from people for the rest of her life, but she couldn't leave without Kate. Being confined to a chair would not do.

Natasha arrives with Clint a few minutes later, and the best friends both press kisses to Yelena's head before helping her stand up from her chair. The doctor hands Natasha several pill bottles and a thick paper packet of instructions before shaking her hand, bidding Yelena a speedy recovery, and disappearing into the hallway.

A nurse shows up just as quickly, her smile gentle. "I can take you to see your girlfriend, now, Miss Belova."

Yelena nods gratefully and follows after her with Clint and Natasha on either side, her anxiety building mercilessly in her chest with each heavy step closer to Kate's room. According to Clint, the young archer had been through three surgeries since they'd been admitted, one of which had been on her fucking brain, but all had been 100% successful and she was expected to recover without complications as long as her treatments were administered correctly.

If she woke up.

The door to Kate's room opens, and Yelena's heart drops in her chest at the sight of her girlfriend. She hurries in as fast as she can on the crutches, and ultimately just abandons them on the floor once she's close enough to the bedside chair.

"Kate Bishop," she whimpers softly, a shaking hand reaching out to rest on Kate's arm. The woman looks peaceful enough, but the bandages and wires and tubes turn her into a nightmare. Yelena can feel the tears already falling as she tries and fails to keep her eyes off the more grievous injuries.

Kate's legs are completely covered in wrappings and casts from a total knee replacement surgery and several stitches and broken bones, and her arms are littered with angry bruises and cuts that have minor bandages or some kind of ointment on them, but it's her head that has Yelena's stomach roiling.

The most damage had been done to her skull, she had been told. The whiplash from the crash itself and then hitting the pavement had splintered bone and damaged nerve endings, but the surgery on her brain had thankfully been small and didn't stretch to her spine. Either way, the archer was expected to need physical therapy in order to recover properly when it came to mental capabilities and processes, but seeing as she was still unconscious, they had no idea how extensive the psychological damage was.

"My Kate Bishop," Yelena whispers to herself, twining her fingers with Kate's and laying her head on the edge of the cot. How did this happen? How could this happen to them?

She remembers the ring box she had been carrying around with her for months now and feels a chill shoot down her spine. She already knew that all of their things had been recovered safely, including the ring, but the thought that she had been planning to propose the day of the accident was too much. There was no engagement to talk about- only the fear of a life without Kate Bishop.

Yelena's allowed to stay with her girlfriend until visiting hours are over, and her energy is so sapped that she's barely able to put up a fight before she's back in Clint's car with her sister holding her tightly as she cries. The image is burned into her brain, and it repeats over and over. Kate prone on the ground and covered in blood; Kate unconscious in a hospital bed with brain damage and a broken body.

She takes the pain medicine she's been given and passes out as soon as they get to Clint's house, the sleepy fog a welcome distraction from the hell she was in.

——

Natasha refuses to give her more medicine when she wakes up from the induced haze for the third time, which Yelena logically knows is a fair move, but she's pissed about it nonetheless. The drugs kept the nightmares away, and now with Kate Bishop gone to ward them off and in the fucking hospital, Yelena knows they'll be even worse than normal when they finally catch up to her.

Her grumpiness is temporarily dispelled when her new nephews are plopped carefully in her aching arms, however, and she cries over the two beautiful baby boys as she sinks into the couch and holds them close to her chest. Billy is asleep, his puffy baby lips parted as he smiles in his dreams, but Tommy has his wide green eyes on her with a bewildered look on his squishy face. Yelena can't help but to laugh tearfully as he grips her finger and teethes on it before staring at it in confusion.

"They're beautiful, Tasha," she chokes out, smothering both soft baby heads in kisses and cuddling the boys close.

Natasha's smile is wide, her cheeks glowing as she watches the scene adoringly. "Aren't they?"

Wanda appears from the kitchen and wraps her arms around her wife's waist, laying her cheek against Natasha's shoulder as she gazes at her baby boys and the way her sister-in-law is so gentle with them. "You'd be a good mom, Yelena."

The blonde's tears start anew, and she holds the babies closer. "Kate wants kids," she accounts, rocking her body to keep Billy asleep. He coos softly and presses his head closer to her, giving a tiny yawn while his brother continues to stare. "Fuck, Natasha, she wants kids. She wants kids, and I want kids, and I was gonna propose to her and now she's- fuck. Oh my god."

Wanda carefully takes her sons from Yelena's arms so that Natasha can sit and pull her sister into a tight hug, stroking her hair. "I know, Yelena. I know. She'll be alright. She's gonna wake up soon, and she'll get better, and then you two can get married and make babies and give Billy and Tommy some more cousins and it'll be perfect, okay?"

Yelena's laugh is wobbly and quickly turns back into hiccups, but her sister's words help. "I need to see her. Will you take me to see her?"

"Of course, Yelena. Let's get some food in you and then we can go, alright?"

Yelena nods and accepts the help to hobble to the kitchen table, where Laura is humming and making grilled cheese sandwiches. She plates one with a steaming bowl of tomato soup and puts them on the table in front of Yelena before pressing a soft kiss to the crown of her head.

"Eat up, honey. Drink some water. Breathe."

Yelena melts against her and wraps Laura in an awkward side hug, missing her own mother desperately. The food is hot and delicious, but the flavor barely registers because of how anxious she is to get back to Kate.

The drive to the hospital is much too long, and Yelena has to keep her eyes closed for the majority of it due to the unexpected terror that spikes every time she sees the road rushing past them. Was she going to be too scared to drive ever again? Would she ever feel strong enough to get back behind a wheel?

As long as her Kate is okay, honestly, she couldn't care less.

Kate is looking significantly better when they get to her room, and the tears are so familiar to Yelena at this point that she doesn't even notice them streaming down her cheeks until Natasha brushes them away. The doctor gives them both an update on the archer's condition, lining out the progress her stitches and broken bones and burns are making, even saying that the physical aspects of her head injury are already mending beautifully and much faster than expected.

But she is still unconscious. And Yelena feels like she's going to snap.

She situates herself in the chair next to Kate's bed, marveling at the significant lack of certain wires and tubes that already aren't needed anymore. The bruising and swelling have gone down in several places, and Yelena can taste the salt in her mouth when she tries to give a wobbly smile as she kisses Kate's forehead.

"Hi, babydoll," she whispers, letting her lips linger on the warm skin. Kate's even breaths are hot on her cheek, and she shuts her eyes tightly, willing her girlfriend to wake up. "Please be okay. I need you to be okay."

She and Natasha stay there with Kate for several hours, her older sister getting a few energy drinks from a vending machine and taking a nap while Yelena just holds Kate's hand and talks to her softly.

"You're going to love Tommy and Billy, Kate Bishop," she whispers, stroking a thumb over Kate's wrist. "They're so squishy and cuddly. I can't wait for you to meet them."

Yelena eventually dozes off at one point, and she's thrown back awake by Natasha frantically calling for a doctor. She shoots up with a headache building around the cut on her forehead to see Kate's fingers twitching in her bandaged palm, and a rush of different emotions dumps itself into her system as her sister carefully pries her from the chair she's in so that a doctor can get to Kate.

Yelena stumbles and whips her head around in a panic, her mind whirling. "Tasha? Tasha, what-"

"She's waking up, Yelena- we need to get out of the way."

They end up in the hallway in another set of chairs once Natasha is able to retrieve Yelena's crutches from the panic of the hospital room, and she's wringing her hands for a few minutes before Natasha has had enough.

"You're gonna tear your bandages off like that," she mutters, gently taking Yelena's hands in her own and holding them away from each other. "Breathe, Yelena. They're gonna take care of her."

Yelena forces air into her lungs and blinks hard, failing to keep the tears from falling. Natasha holds her into her side, her big sister supporting her up. "I need her to be okay, Tasha," she murmurs softly, lips twisting.  "I need my Kate Bishop."

"I know, Lena. Breathe. Kate's strong. She'll be annoying the shit out of us before you know it."

This gets a wobbly laugh out of the blonde, and she presses her forehead against her sister's in gratitude. "Thank you for being here with me."

"I'm never going anywhere."

"You better not. I'll kick your ass."

They wait about thirty minutes before a doctor opens the door to Kate's room and offers them a relieved smile. "We've got her stabilized and she's lookin' fine," he tells them, offering a clipboard for them to look over with information on her vitals mapped out. "She's a bit disoriented, of course, and her body has been inactive for over a week, so that combined with the beating she took is going to leave her exhausted, but she's currently awake enough to eat and talk. Feel free to go in and see her for a moment while we get some treatment plans worked out."

Natasha thanks him and helps a restless Yelena stand and hobble back into the room, where Kate is propped up against a mound of pillows with a fresh pain medication IV drip in her arm and new vital monitors hooked up to her fingers. She spots the two sisters and gives a weary smile, the bags under her eyes dark.

"Hey, Natasha," she croaks, voice rough from not being used for over a week. The sunlight from the window casts her in a honey golden glow, and Yelena doesn't think she's ever seen anything more beautiful than her Kate Bishop alive and well. (As well as she can be.)

Yelena can feel her eyes flood with tears for the millionth time, but she manages to hold them back as she pushes from her sister and hurries to Kate's bedside, cupping the archer's cheek gently and pressing a desperately soft kiss to her dry lips. "I'm so glad you're okay," she chokes out, pressing her forehead to her girlfriend's, mindful of the bandages and stitches.

Kate lets out a noise of surprise, and when Yelena leans back in confusion, something cold and terrifying slips into her heart at the look in Kate's eyes.

"Oh. Um- wow. Not that I'm gonna complain about being kissed by a beautiful woman as soon as I wake up, because, like, damn. But, uh... hi. Are... you a friend of Natasha's?"

-—

Yelena is completely silent on the drive home, her eyes dazed and unfocused and staring absently out of the window with a slack jaw. They were sent back out of the room almost as soon as the doctors realized the one problem with Kate's condition. The one mental process that had been damaged.

Memory loss.

But why only Yelena?

She doesn't hear Natasha trying to talk to her, doesn't register Laura or the dogs or her parents who arrived while they were at the hospital. She doesn't feel the arms around her shoulders, doesn't feel the scalding shower water on her broken skin, doesn't feel the drug induced fog taking her until she's already gone.

And she is desperate to stay gone.

Natasha lets her stay gone a lot longer this time.

It's a few days until she comes back around, her mother's soothing touch in her hair ringing through to her brain as Melina sits silently at her daughter's bedside. The woman gives her a tearful smile when Yelena's eyes land on her and focus, registering her mother after a moment.

"Mama."

"Hello, malaya medveditsa." Melina presses a kiss to her daughter's forehead. "I am so happy you are here." Yelena knows she doesn't just mean here as in Clint's farm.

"I miss you," Yelena whispers, her lips twisting up as her brain slowly remembers more and more. Alexei appears in the doorway and sits on the other side of the bed, his weight nearly toppling it. He takes her free hand, and Yelena starts to hiccup softly.

"Papa."

Her parents just hold her.

Are you a friend of Natasha's?

——

Yelena turns down every offer to go visit Kate in the hospital, and she can feel her heart wither away more and more each time. But she can't do it. She can't. The way Kate looked at her, that light of unfamiliarity in someone's eyes when a stranger acts like they know them...

God, she kissed her, and Kate doesn't even know who she is.

Why did Kate only forget Yelena?

(Because the author said so. The author can do whatever they want. That is the beauty of fanfiction. It's okay I hate myself too.)

Each new update from Clint and Natasha kills Yelena a little more, and by the time a week has passed since Kate woke up, she's nearly screaming with how restless and lost she feels.

Kate is healing wonderfully and ahead of schedule. They've already got her started on physical and speech therapy. Her stitches can come out soon. Her blood pressure is back to normal. She can eat solid foods without assistance.

She doesn't know who Yelena is.

Her palms are finally healed enough for her to use her hands at 100%, so she starts working out in her room- pull ups on the door frame, mostly. Her ankle still has a boot on it, which means no runs yet.

It makes her want to die.

The day that Kate is scheduled to be discharged, Yelena finds herself stealing Natasha's car and driving so far out into the countryside that her ass is numb and not a single speck of civilization can be found. The boot and nervousness can only stop her so much.

She has several missed calls from her sister, but doesn't bother to return them until she's sure that the location for her phone is turned off.

"Where the hell are you?"

Yelena frowns slightly at the harshness in her sister's tone, but she knows it's deserved. "Out."

"Where, Yelena."

"I don't know, actually. Somewhere. Far."

"Jesus Christ, Yelena. You scared the shit out of us."

Yelena is silent for a moment, but then she forces the words out. "How's Kate?"

It's Natasha's turn to be quiet. "She's good. She's back at the house now. She... she keeps asking about you."

The breath feels like it's been punched from Yelena's body. "She what?"

"Well, it's probably nagging at her that a woman she doesn't recognize kissed her and then never came to see her again."

"That's not fair, Tasha," Yelena whispers.

"No, I know it's not. I'm sorry. It's just... do you know what you want to do about it?"

"What's there to do, Tasha? The love of my life doesn't know who I am. Sounds simple enough."

"You're not gonna try to help her remember?"

"The way I see it, she needs to be able to focus on getting better without some stranger claiming she's her girlfriend and causing her even more problems. She wouldn't-" Yelena stops and sucks in a breath as she leans her head on the car, eyes blurring with tears. "It's my fault, Tasha. It's my fault she almost died."

"Yelena."

"I don't care if that's stupid and childish. I want to stay away from her, okay? Please. I can't do this. I can't stand for her to look at me and not know who I am."

"But what if there's a chance for her to remember?" Natasha says weakly. "What about the ring, Yelena?"

Yelena hangs up, tosses her phone into the car, and slides down into the grass to curl in on herself and let the sobs fall from her mouth.

Fuck the ring.

Fuck everything.

——

Yelena returns to the farm only to drop off Natasha's car and pack her bag, throwing the duffel over her shoulder and heading back down the stairs towards the front door as quietly as she can. She's nearly there when a voice sounds from the couch in the main room, and her blood chills.

"You're Natasha's sister, right?"

Yelena's head turns slowly to see Kate Bishop laid across the couch, her legs and back both propped up on pillows with a blanket over her lap and a compression bandage around her forehead. Her heart is trying to decide between beating an extra million times per minute or just stopping entirely.

"What?" she chokes out, something hot and uncomfortable already building in her chest.

"Are you Natasha's sister?" Kate sits up a little more, the action making her wince. Yelena is moving towards her to help her before she can stop herself, but Kate accepts the offered hand with a look of appreciation. There's a fucking tingle when their skin touches.

"Yes, I am," Yelena says roughly, taking a rushed step back. There must be something concerning in her eyes, because Kate's brow furrows softly.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Her voice is stiff. The blood is pounding too loudly in her ears, and the backs of her eyes are burning so hot she can barely see. "I'm glad you're alright, Kate." Yelena turns quickly and hurries for the door, but Kate's voice stops her again.

"This is yours, Yelena. Natasha found it in between the couch cushions when she was setting it up for me and asked if I could give it to you when you got back."

Shit.

"Yelena?"

She doesn't have to turn back around to know that Kate is holding the ring box in the very hand that was originally supposed to wear the jewel in the first place.

"Ask Natasha to hold onto it for me, will you?" Yelena says roughly, putting her hand on the doorknob.

"I know you, don't I?"

Yelena slumps forward and leans her head on the door heavily, the sobs already threatening to break loose. I can't do this. "Did Tasha tell you something?"

"Nobody has told me anything. It's driving me fucking crazy." Kate's voice is low and agitated. "They said I have memory loss, but they won't tell me what I've forgotten. Only details from the crash I was in. But you're on my lock screen and there's a Polaroid of us in the back of my phone."

Yelena can feel herself start to hyperventilate, but she clamps down on it and forces her chest to stay still.

"Were you in the crash, too? Is that what happened to your foot?"

She's getting dizzy.

"Who are you to me, Yelena?"

The edges of her vision are going dark.

"Yelena?"

She shoves down on the door handle and lurches forward out of the house, barely managing to get past the threshold before stumbling and crashing down onto the porch as her eyes roll back and her chest screams at her to breathe. But she can't. She can't breathe. Everything is too tight and too hot and she can't breathe she can't breathe she can't breathe she can't-

——

Yelena's head is foggy from the remnants of a nightmare, but a face appears in the blur of her vision and looms over her.

"I can't tell who you are," she croaks, "but if you don't get out of my face, I'm going to punch you."

Natasha's chuckle sounds forced as she leans back. "Fair enough."

"Jesus Christ. What happened this time?"

"You passed out on the porch. Kate said she thinks you were having a panic attack."

Fuck.

"I can't do this, Tasha. I can't do this."

"She wants to see you."

"I can't." Yelena's eyes well up and she presses her fists into them, mouth twisting painfully as a broken wail splits her throat. "I can't do this. I barely made it through her getting to know me the first time, Tasha. I can't do it again. I can't tell her about all the people I've killed again. I can't watch her face when she finds out how much blood I've spilt. I can't do it."

"Yelena-"

"I don't deserve her, Natasha!"

Her sister is quiet, a firm hand resting on her shoulder and squeezing. Yelena's body rocks with hiccups, and the despair in her blood is thick.

"How long have you been having worries about your relationship with Kate, Yelena?" Natasha asks softly, brushing a damp strand of hair from her baby sister's face.

Yelena doesn't respond for a few minutes as she tries to get her breathing back under control, and Natasha helps her sit up before getting her a glass of water and some of her non-drowsy pain medication.

"A while, I guess," she mutters lowly, staring sorrowfully down into the cup as she clasps it between her palms. The cold glass is soothing on her palms, which may be fully healed but are still easily aggravated. "Like I'm not enough for her. She needs more. I can't give her more."

"And you still wanted to propose?"

"I thought that maybe it would fix me."

Natasha pulls Yelena into her chest and holds her tight, kissing her hair.

"I thought that maybe if we got married, I wouldn't be scared anymore. It would be cemented, her and me. She wouldn't say yes if she wasn't sure, right?" Yelena whispers, tears pooling and dripping onto Natasha's sweater.

"But should you propose in the first place if you're not 100% sure about it yourself?" Natasha tucks away another strand of hair, cupping her sister's cheek.

"But I- I am sure, Tasha. I want Kate Bishop forever. Just my Kate Bishop. She's all I need."

"What makes you think she doesn't feel the same way about you, Yelena?"

"Because I-" She stops, bottom lip quivering as her shoulders shake. "I'm a mess. I'm broken, Tasha," she whispers, eyes blurry. "She deserves someone who isn't broken."

Natasha tuts and cups Yelena's face with both hands, leveling their stares. "Yelena. Honey. We're all a little broken." She kisses the healing cut on her forehead. "Kate loves you. Even now. I can see it. Wanda can see it. Clint and Laura and the kids and the twins and the dogs can see it." Yelena hiccups a small laugh. "She may not remember the face, but she sure as hell remembers the feeling. She sees you and instinctively feels love."

"Do you really think so?" Yelena whispers after a moment, sniffing softly.

Natasha's smile is sad but assuring. "I do. She just needs to be given a chance to remember."

"What if she's different? What if she has an out and doesn't want me? What if she hates me, Natasha?"

"Then we learn and adapt- and I don't think that'll happen." Her sister leans their foreheads together, muttering soothingly. "It's gonna be okay. I'll be here no matter what happens, you know that."

They stay that way for a moment until the door opens and Wanda appears with Billy asleep in her arms, smiling softly at the two sisters. Natasha seems to glow when she spots her wife, and she stands to hug the woman and kiss both her and her son. "Hi, detka."

Wanda hums and kisses Nat softly, then takes her spot on the bed next to Yelena. "I thought a good baby cuddle might help you feel better."

"You know me so well," Yelena jokes softly, holding her arms out for the baby. Billy is placed gently into them, and she cradles him close, pressing her lips to his soft head and inhaling his baby smell. "Fresh baby," she whispers with a grin, looking at him adoringly.

Natasha cackles and her wife scowls good-naturedly, slapping her arm. "That's exactly what I said when I saw them for the first time!"

"I was exhausted, and she went straight for the boys first, only to fucking say fresh baby," Wanda gripes, but her eyes are soft and she loops an arm around Natasha's waist.

Yelena smiles and laughs softly, bouncing the baby gently as he shifts and yawns, his eyes fortunately staying closed. "Hello, tiny boy," she whispers to him, stroking a knuckle over his soft hair and squishy cheeks. "You are so precious."

"Kate is holding Tommy right now, if you want to go see her?" Wanda offers carefully, Natasha squeezing her hip.

Yelena pauses and looks up at them, brow furrowed.

"She has a really high chance of gaining all of her memory back if she's able to interact with what she's forgotten, Yelena," Natasha says gently, leaning her cheek against her wife's head.

The blonde sucks at her lip anxiously, glancing back down to the sleeping baby in her arms. He gives another big yawn and stretches his pudgy fingers out, eyes cracking open to look up at her. "What do you think, Billy Boy Baby?" Yelena whispers, tapping his nose softly. "Should we go visit Kate Bishop and your brother?"

He smiles sleepily before yawning again and snuggling back into her arms.

"I guess that's a yes," Yelena murmurs. She looks back up at Wanda and Natasha, eyes stinging. "I don't know if I can do it. I'm scared, Tasha. What if I can't do it?"

Her sister moves back towards her and hugs Yelena's shoulders. "You're one of the strongest people I know, Yelena. Give yourself a chance, okay?"

"...Okay."

Kate is sitting up on the couch with the footrest up and Tommy perched happily in her lap when Yelena appears in the main room, Wanda and Natasha right behind her. She's not allowed to walk and hold Billy at the same time due to her boot, but once she's sat down in a chair next to the couch, they place the baby back in her arms. Kate watches her closely the whole time, absentmindedly patting Tommy's back.

Yelena waits until the two other women have left the room before glancing up and meeting Kate's gaze, heart pounding against her ribs. "Hi, Kate Bishop."

The archer's smile is beaming, recognition shining in her eyes. "Hi, Yelena."

——

By the time Kate's knee is healed up enough for her to use a cane instead of a walker, she and Yelena have gone back to spending almost every waking moment together. More and more pieces of her memory come back every day the more they talk, and everyone else can see Kate falling in love with Yelena all over again.

And she's not shy about it, either. The first thing that she's filled in on is the timeline of their relationship, spanning from when they first met at a surprise party Natasha was throwing for Clint, to when they started dating, their first kiss, their first time together, the adventures they'd been on, all the way up to the car crash.

With all of this in mind, Kate figures there's no reason for her to hold back when she starts regaining memories and therefore feelings. She notices how beautiful Yelena's smile is, so she tells her. She remembers the way her face looks when she comes, and doesn't even hesitate before letting Yelena know that it's one of the hottest things she's ever seen.

"Can I kiss you?" Kate asks one evening, staring up at Yelena from where her head is resting in the blonde's lap. Yelena's hands go still, the tv screen blaring red when her character dies, but she's unbothered.

"What?" She glances down at Kate, whose head bandages are already gone.

"Can I kiss you?" she repeats, smiling wide. She reaches a hand up to cup Yelena's face, which is already red. Another thing she had gotten to learn about her girlfriend again- Yelena appeared so stoic, but when Kate flirted even a little bit, she blushed like a fucking tomato.

"Are you sure?" Yelena frowns and brushes a hand through Kate's hair, and the woman purrs happily, her eyes closing with content. Good lord, she was adorable. "You don't have to. I'm not rushing either of us. We have all the time in the world now, detka."

Kate smiles lazily and looks back up at her girlfriend- god, that word sounded so good- and gives a soft nod. "I'm sure. Yes. Please."

Yelena's breath hitches, and she puts the controller that she's still holding down to stroke a knuckle over Kate's cheek. "You're sure-sure?" she whispers, eyes hooded as they dart to Kate's lips. She would be lying, of course, if she said she hadn't wanted to kiss the archer breathless from the moment she'd come out of her coma, but after kissing Kate before realizing the woman didn't recognize her, she had stayed away from the topic out of shame.

Kate's own breath catches at the look on Yelena's face, and she grabs the hand that Yelena has on her face softly, closing her eyes and pressing her lips against the calloused palm. "I'm sure-sure."

Yelena can feel her heart thudding against her ribs, and she feels like a teenager again, spotting Kate for the first time through a crowd of people she wished she could avoid. "Okay," she whispers, shifting and cupping Kate's face gently.

"Okay?" The archer smiles almost shyly, lashes fluttering.

"Okay." Yelena leans down and presses her lips to Kate's ever so softly, breathing the archer in and feeling herself already getting high on the scent of flannel and pine.

She breaks off, and Kate stares at her, starstruck. "Wow," she mumbles, lips parted.

Yelena laughs softly, her cheeks burning. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Kate leans up and captures Yelena's mouth in hers again, cupping the back of her head and kissing her hard. The blonde groans and wraps her arms around the archer, pressing them both carefully into the couch.

Yelena hisses a sigh and opens her mouth a little wider when Kate bites softly at her bottom lip, and the woman's tongue licks past them heatedly.

Jesus Christ, she had missed this.

Yelena tangles her hand into Kate's dark hair and tugs at it softly, earning a soft gasp from her before the blonde moves down her neck, trailing her lips along the strong jawline and nipping at her pulse.

"I love you, Kate Bishop," she growls softly, sucking a bruise into the soft skin under the archer's ear and soothing over it with her tongue. Kate pants breathlessly into her ear, and holy shit Yelena is turned on.

"Maybe wait to bang it out until Kate is fully healed?"

And just like that, the spell is broken, and Yelena promptly falls off of the couch. Classic.

"Наташа, клянусь Богом, я надеру тебе задницу!" she yells at her sister as she sits up, her cheeks burning furiously. Kate's face is just as red as hers, but there's a mischievous light in her eyes that lights Yelena's stomach on fire.

Natasha cackles so hard that she doubles over with her arms around her stomach, wiping tears from her eyes. Yelena is fuming. Kate is blushing. No one is being productive.

"Sorry, sorry- I had to." Natasha pauses, her grin wicked. "Actually, no, I'm not sorry. You two are both so fucking horny for each other and it's just the funniest thing ever. I can't with y'all."

Yelena can only gape at her sister, who shrugs and heads up the stairs. "Wanda is taking a nap, so keep it quiet, will you?"

She swears colorfully under her breath and huffs, but her blood feels like lightning zaps through it when Kate's hand reaches over and cups her chin, her head twisted to face the archer.

"Don't pout, poor girl. Are you really horny for me?"

Yelena's face goes supernova.

Fuck you, Natasha.

"Fuck you, Kate Bishop," she says out loud.

Her girlfriend's smile is sly. "Literally, I hope?"

"Kate!"

The archer cackles and slumps back on the couch, holding her aching stomach. "You're too cute, baby."

Yelena only grumbles, scowling as she tries to decide if tickling Kate and possibly reopening any injuries would be worth it. Kate sees her face and stops abruptly, pointing.

"Yelena Belova, you are not allowed to tickle me," she warns, raising a brow.

Yelena narrows her eyes and leans into her girlfriend's face, somehow gaining the bravado to smirk in a way she knew always got Kate going. "How about we get married and I show you just how hard I can tickle you, Kate Bishop?"

Kate squints, the tips of her ears red. "I can't tell if you're proposing or threatening me with a good time."

The blonde shrugs. "Why not both?"

Her girlfriend smiles brightly, her eyes wide. "Are you seriously fucking proposing to me right now, Yelena Belova?"

"Maybe?"

Kate hums roughly and leans forward to kiss her hard, pressing her palm to the back of Yelena's head to hold her closer. "You must really like me, Miss Belova," she whispers in between breaths, "to propose- after kissing me only once- since I even remembered who you are."

Yelena smiles into Kate's lips and slowly maneuvers to stand up while still kissing her, moving forward to straddle the archer's lap. Kate lets out a soft noise, and Yelena silences it, tracing her tongue along the archer's soft bottom lip and tugging it between her teeth.

"Are you guys serious right now?"

Yelena just kisses Kate harder and takes a first of dark hair, swallowing every noise and moan her girlfriend makes while flipping Natasha off from where her sister had appeared at the top of the stairs. The redhead just groans and turns right back around, muttering under her breath. "I just wanted a fucking sandwich."

Yelena huffs a laugh and breaks off from Kate for a small moment, both of them breathing hard with flushed cheeks and warm stomachs. "Yes, Kate Bishop. I like you. Quite a bit, actually, I hope you've noticed."

Kate can only nod, her eyes wide and a little unfocused. She is the poster child of freshly kissed.

Yelena grins and kisses her cheek softly, whispering against the soft skin. "Will you marry me, Kate Bishop?"

[corrosive-equilibrium]

Quick concept art for Freakshow in this AU throughout Forgiveness vs Revenge arc (the show's timeline).

[clarasghosts]

Clara Oswald 🤝 Armand deceptive control freaks (+ the old men with person-shaped holes in their memory)

[sysig]

[sibillascribbles08]

[quietwingsinthesky]

Leaving the safety of Sam tumblr and seeing the worst takes possible is sooooooo… just…

(Dean Stan on TikTok called the Sam and dean fight about Amy in 7.06 dean “finally standing up for himself”)

That’s so funny.

Bro, he killed a lady. And then lied about it.

Like, there’s a lot of times where I’ll go, fine, Dean’s being morally ambiguous and he thinks he’s making the right call, sure, sure. This was not one of those times.

(Secret good spn in my head where this and the Benny situation combine in Sam’s mind in such a way that once Jack comes around, that why he becomes so invested in Dean seeing Jack as family. Because he knows that if he doesn’t? If all he can offer is that he would spare Jack, that he thinks Jack isn’t a monster? Dean has disregarded that before. But if Dean can come to that conclusion on his own, strip the title of monster away because he’s become personally invested, that might protect Jack.)

[loving-ricciardo]

I’m cooking with my uncle this weekend and I’m curious about this-

[bean-chaointe]

When I started converting my childhood bedroom into my crafting room, it was meant to be a silly pun on both the art and spiritual supplies kept in there with an eye towards the possibility of also allowing it to be a space where I meet with clients for spiritual services.

But I'm someone who appreciates Control over their personal spaces and is also very bad at artifice, so now I'm looking around my study and wondering how the hell I'm supposed to work with new clients when My Insides are so clearly, visibly, and vulnerably splattered around the room. Either a too-perceptive client will see something I don't want them to understand or I'll end up metaphorically consuming them like they've walked straight into my belly, which can adversely impact a client's personal process (e.g. their own spirits don't feel welcome in the space, the client feels intimidated, etc).

who needs to worry about ~*~witch wars~*~ and ~*~evil eye~*~ when you're so good at sabotaging yourself goddamnit

[nightmareinfloral]

bruce lashes out when he needs to regain control of a person/situation/emotion something something

[goldsbitch]

Hypochondria

The emotions and glimpses of daily life of this random girl followed Lando throughout his whole. Whenever she's sad, he knows. Her celebrations sort of become his celebrations. For him, it's like breathing - just another part of his life. That is until he meets her.

soulmate au

Lando knew the moment he saw her. And it was at that point when he thought he was truly going crazy.

For his whole life, he thought it was just some fantasy that he planted in his mind in early age and was impossible to get rid off.

He froze completely. Panicked, went into fight or flight mode, these two fighting each other so hard that he just stood there, staring like a creep. Thank god she was far away enough and probably did not notice.

His second immediate reaction was anger. Did she really not notice him? The audacity? How can she roam around his brain for his whole life and then not react when she sees him? Her being in the paddock meant that she definitely knew who he was, people don't just end up by chance there.

Except maybe she did. Her outfit gave away that she was one of the medics from the medical team. Of course she would be. Saving lives, doing something proper meaningful. Not driving around in circles and making a big deal out of it, like he did. Never in his life did he feel as selfish and sort of shameful for his choice of career.

He began to insert ideas into her head, despite not having spoken a single word to her. She was probably someone who valued intelligence, people who were book smart, humble heroes in the society who were focus on dedicating their lives to saving others.

Not those who were recklessly driving around in circles. There was no way she'd see him fit to her. That was not going to stop him. Her being one of the medics provided a great opportunity. Hypochondria? So be it.

His mind was spiraling out of control.

//

For as long as he could remember, he had dreams (and something he would not dare call visions) about this one girl. As if he was watching glimpses of her life, little moments, bits and pieces. But it was almost constant. He was so used to it at this point that he found it relaxing. It was very confusing growing up. Every adult around him was freaking out when his childhood imaginary friend phase would just not go away. So once he realized that people were thinking he's weird, he just stopped talking about it. It was also a big revelation to him when he found out that other people did not have these visions in their head so intensively. When he was 17 he had an obsession phase, where he researched the fuck out of how brains worked, but nothing seemed to match. His dreams did not provide him with anything specific, no details about place, vague signs that this person he kept seeing at least lived in the same time frame as he did. It was little things he saw and felt, as if her emotions traveled to him. He'd seen her happy, laughing with friends while she tried weed for the first time, getting nervous by her exams and debating whether to brush her teeth in the evening. Her becoming a medic now finally answered few questions. Often he would wonder why was she studying so much. His blurry dreams blocking these specifics out, just to make it all more frustrating. Observing her having a a crush on someone was unnerving and eventually, seeing little things from her romantic relationship just made him supremely mad. He was glad that was over, because at one point, it had started to seriously mess up his mood. He genuinely celebrated the break up. Incredible amounts of little moments and details that were conveyed to him, but no idea on where or who she was. He just had this knowledge in his head about someone who he doubted actually existed.

And now she was probably standing right across the track. It was a lot to take in.

//

Most of the medical team traveled with them, as far as Lando was aware. Never really paid that much of attention to that department until then. So he figured he's only have few days to capture her attention, she might have been local. He was already contemplating moving here to join her life. That's when he decided to get a full medical check up upon request.

He complained nonstop about a pain in his stomach - vague enough for many possibilities having to be ruled out.

It quickly started feeling like playing a video game. Having to jump through levels in order to get to his "boss".

He spent an hour in the medical centre, where he was taken immediately after his first comment about his fictional pain, because everyone still had in fresh memory the saga of Carlos's appendix. "This is gonna be easy" he thought to himself, because one of the first people he saw passing by was her. He was not even trying to hide when observing her. The way her hair fell out of a messy bun. A concentrated look as she was attending one of the staff members, listening attentively and taking care of their wound. The whole place seemed to glow up by her presence. He wondered how it felt when her fingertips touched the skin of another person and was almost jealous of the person she was treating. On par with his bad luck, the drivers had a dedicated doctor on call, so he was taken to a different private room where he had to undergo a full medical scan, with of course nothing being found. When he got out, she was no longer there. All for nothing.

//

The rest of his day was covered in a brain fog, he sort of floated through the media day, feeling like he was not really there. He let Oscar totally step up to be the main star this time. As if he could give a fuck.

Over the years of having to live with this strange connection, he managed to block it out temporarily for moment when he really need to focus. This time, he was doing the exact opposite. Trying to somehow "connect" to this personal bluetooth he had in his head.

Finally, after few hours he felt something. A light wave of anxiety, as she opened her email. Then a wave of disappointment, despair and her giving up. He was more than able to not get affected by her emotions - usually. This time it was sort of in tune with his own mix of emotions, so if he was a downer before it progressed perfectly into him shutting off completely.

//

He managed to completely forget that his latest girlfriend, if that was the right word to use, was coming over. He only realized when he saw a pair of female shoes thrown by the door of his hotel room. A wave of guilt washed over him. He was being an asshole again. As they greeted each other, he tried to kiss her as much as he could, trying to avoid unnecessary conversation. Maybe this reality check was good. He often got lost in his own head, listening sad song to fill this strange void - or he would party too much. Now, there was a real person standing in front of him, a super hot girl who liked him and was not annoying. He figured there was no point in drowning in his own delusions.

Letting her fuck his brains out worked, at least until the next morning.

part 2

[fiber-optic-alligator]

Hello! I’ve always been curious about the “human in a space shuttle somehow ends up on a cybertronian ship and all the bots are trying to figure out what this random metal this is while the human is terrified” plot.

It would be interesting to see it played out with any character, but for the sake of direction, I’d like to request this with the Lost Light Crew?

It could be vore if that’s what you feel like wrong at the time, but I’d also go for some good ‘ol fearplay.

I apologize if this is too vague, have a good day/night and I love your writing!

Thank you for the request Glitch! I hope this is up to your expectations! I hope you don't mind that I picked specific members of the Lost Light crew to include in this story. Feedback is always appreciated! Have a great day/night as well! :D

Doctor’s (And Scientist’s) Orders

Pairing: IDW Ratchet, IDW Perceptor, and IDW First Aid x Human Reader

Word Count: 3115

Summary: You are a teacher who is being sent from Earth to a colony on Mars. A new life as an educator for the red planet’s children is on your horizon…until you are thrown terribly off course and end up in the bowels of the Lost Light. All seems lost for you when you find yourself injured and cut off from human society, at the mercy of the three Cybertronians who end up finding you and taking you in, whether you want them to or not.

The first thing you hear when you come to is the horrid screeching of your ship's alarms.

  You groan and sit up. Smoke and flickering emergency lights greet you when you open your eyes. Electricity sparks from the stasis tank you were asleep in. Gas spurts from the ceiling, and everything is strewn about with the chaotic air of a tornado that just tore through an entire town.

“Warning,” your ship’s AI urgently alerts. “Breach detected. Damage is collateral. Warning-warning-” It sputters and fizzles out.

  You rub the back of your head and feel something warm and sticky coat your palm. When you pull your hand back to take a closer look, you see blood.

  Shit. That’s not good.

  Standing up makes you feel like you are going to puke. Your head throbs and every breath you take sends piercing pain through your chest. Dragging yourself out of the stasis pod takes longer than it should while black spots dot your vision as you stumble to the dashboard and press your hands against it. “Run ship diagnostics,” you manage to rasp. The voice that struggles to exit your mouth is one you hardly recognize. It is thin and strewn with violent coughs. A metallic taste coats your tongue. More blood.

  The AI glitches as it attempts to answer you. “Severe damage to hull. Severe damage to engines. Severe damage to thrusters. Life support online, but rapidly depleting. Escape pod offline.”

  “Shit,” you breathe. “Try contacting Earth control.”

  “Communications systems offline. Attempting self-repairs. Current status…5%.”

  “How long until repairs are complete?”

  “Estimations indicate repairs will be completed in…5 days.”

  Not good. Not good at all. You push yourself away from the dashboard and take in all that has happened. This was not how the mission was supposed to go. When you were chosen to be sent to Earth’s Mars colony as a teacher for the young children growing up on the red planet, you thought it would be a smooth seven month trip with you peacefully slumbering away in stasis. You were supposed to be woken up by fellow human beings, not a devastating crash resulting in your ship being decimated. Something must have thrown you off course. A freak asteroid strike probably. Which begs the question…where exactly are you?

  Ignoring how much pain you are in, you hobble through the remains of the vessel and head for the airlock doors. They remain tightly shut when you make it to them, hiding the knowledge of where you are from view. “Open the doors,” you call out to the ship.

  “Warning. Remaining onboard is strongly recommended. Current exterior environment is unknown.”

  “Override. Open the doors.”

  The doors whoosh apart. You know there’s oxygen outside. If there hadn’t been, the ship would have prevented you from even entering the airlock chamber in the first place. Stepping off, you expect to see the barren landscape of Mars, or the alien environment of some other planet you might have ended up on. Part of you thinks you might still be on Earth; perhaps something went wrong with the ship before you could even break the Troposphere.

  What you see surprises you. You are in some sort of…massive cargo hold.

  Gigantic metal crates surround you, most of them exuding a pinkish glow. There are lights on the ceiling far above you, but they are dim, and serve little aid in giving you an estimate of just how large this place is. Turning in a circle, you feel awe fill you. “Yeah,” you murmur to yourself. “The ship definitely didn’t crash on Mars.”

  Speaking of your ship…you take in the damage. It's an absolute mess of warped, crippled metal doomed to remain collapsed on its side until self-repairs are complete. It would take days, maybe even weeks, for damage of this caliber to be fixed beyond the communications systems. With no way to contact Earth or Mars, you truly are stuck.

  You close your eyes and pinch the bridge of your nose. Calm. You are calm. There is absolutely nothing to worry about. Yes, your ship is destroyed. Yes, you are suffering from critical wounds. Yes, you are in an unknown place with seemingly no way out. But you're alive. That’s what matters. And now you just have to survive for five more days.

  You hear thumping in the distance.

  It takes you a moment to register the pattern of heavy steps that are coming towards you. It’s something alive, you realize with dawning horror. Wherever you are, you have obviously made quite a racket, and now this planet’s local faunal residents are going to seek you out. There’s no way for you to know exactly what sorts of animals live here; any technology you might have used to your advantage is directly connected to the ship. With the ship offline, thus go the tools as well. You are completely in the dark, relying only on the little information about alien lifeforms you have to keep you safe.

  You don’t need that information to know you have to hide right now.

  You scurry back into the ship, biting back a shout of pain. God, there’s pain everywhere. How have you not passed out yet? Adrenaline does wonders for the human body, you sourly think to yourself when you have to lean against the wall to catch your breath. A hacking cough swells within your chest. When you cover your mouth with your elbow and release it, blood is splattered over your suit sleeve.

  That’s when you hear the growling.

  It’s unlike anything you have ever heard before. You’ve studied a multitude of animals. You’ve heard big cats roar, wolves howl, hyenas cackle, and birds screech. This is not a growl you can associate with any of those. It…holds similar qualities. But there’s something about it that remains blatantly off.

  It sounds strangely like the growl of a machine.

  You look outside of the airlock doors, and something huge lumbers out from behind a stack of crates. The first things your brain registers are its red and white armor platings, its bright blue eyes, and the horn-like finials extending from its forehead. It’s humanoid, yet possesses qualities that remove it from any such grouping. This thing is definitely not like you in any sort of way beyond having a face and walking on two legs.

  “It’s…a robot,” you whisper. It’s a giant fucking robot moving all on its own, and looking none too happy to be here.

  The mechanical creature snarls, lips upturning to reveal sharp canines that are probably longer than your arms. It hasn’t noticed you yet. Its focus is trained on the datapad it holds in its hands. Your mind is blown. This is obviously a member of a clearly intelligent race. Have you just discovered a new extraterrestrial species?

  The robot looks up. At first, its eyes scan the crates around you, and it doesn't seem to notice the little ship nestled between them. You remain still, prey instinct taking its course and demanding you freeze where you are. Hopefully it will just move on…

  It backtracks, and to your utter horror, it makes direct eye contact with you.

  Fucking shit, you think.

  The robot stares at you with an expression of pure shock. You stare right back with an equal amount of terror.

  It steps towards you. That’s all it takes for you to scream at the ship. “Close the airlock doors! Close them now!”

  The doors slam shut. You hear a shout from the robot, and everything shakes as it thunders forward. You stumble and fall with agony ripping through your poor body when you make contact with the floor. The cry that leaves you is riddled with pain.

  “A-Activate self-defense protocol!” you order the ship.

  “Self-defense protocols offline,” it says back.

  “Well, how long until they are online?!”

  “Estimated time equals…ten hours.”

  “That’s not enough!” you scream rawly.

  A gentle tapping echos from the other side of the doors.

  You push yourself back, heart pounding as you listen to the robot move all around you. It’s growling softly to itself, and you can hear it touching the ship, running massive mechanical fingers across the walls that act as the only barrier between you and potential doom.

  You don’t know what to do. Panic makes you frantic and you desperately try to think of how you can get yourself away from the monster outside. You have no way to defend yourself. You can’t even run. This thing wants you out, and you know it has the power to rip your ship apart in order to get to you if it wishes for it.

  Suddenly, everything rocks. Your stomach drops when the entire ship shakes and you feel it being lifted into the air. Realization of what is happening hits you: it’s picking it up. If it can’t get you, it’ll just have to take everything.

  “Nononono!” you cry out. The ship tips a little, and you slam into a wall with a grunt. “Stop!” You bang your fists against the metal. “Put it down! Put it down now!”

  The robot simply growls in reply. You don’t even know if it hears you. There’s nothing you can do to stop this. You slump back and cover your face as hot, helpless tears finally begin running down your cheeks.

  “What exactly is it?” First Aid asks as he peers down at the mangled hunk of metal sitting before them on the medibay berth.

  “It’s a ship,” Perceptor flatly replies with a silent “What else would it be?” evident in his tone.

  “This is a ship?” First Aid looks horrified. “But it's completely destroyed! How could it have gotten here?”

  “It must have crashed during our last refueling.” Perceptor lays his servos over the top of the ship, examining it closely. He huffs and straightens, looking at Ratchet. “Where did you find it?”

  “The cargo hold,” the medic replies. “I was down there searching for some extra medical supplies I know we have stored. I wouldn’t have seen it if it hadn’t been for what’s inside.”

  “There’s something alive in there?” First Aid gasps.

  “A human,” Ratchet replies. “It locked itself inside when it saw me.”

  “Impossible.” Perceptor shakes his helm. “Humans are an endangered species that only occupy a small sector of a primitive solar system. They don’t have the technology to make it this far out in space.”

  “Well, clearly they do. I know what I saw. These old optics aren’t that far gone.” Ratchet raps his knuckles gently against the ship. All three mechs have to lean in close so they can hear the soft squeak from inside.

  “How do we get it out?” First Aid asks. “It could be hurt!”

  “It is hurt,” Ratchet answers. “I saw it before it hid itself away. I don’t know how severe the injuries are, but I know it's in pain.”

  “Then what are we waiting for? We need to help it!” First Aid presses his forehelm against the ship and whispers softly. “Hello, little human? Please don’t be afraid! We aren’t going to hurt you!”

  A whimper is all he gains in reply.

  Perceptor crosses his arms. “I can force it out, but you won’t like how I do it.”

  “You can’t hurt it,” Ratchet sharply snaps. “That would be cruel.”

  “I’m not going to hurt it,” the scientist bites back. “I’m simply going to pump a nontoxic gas into the ship that will cause it to eventually lose consciousness. It will have no choice but to come out, and then we can go on from there.”

  “Are…are you sure?” First Aid wrings his servos nervously. “I don’t want it to be scared of us.”

  “Whether it’s scared of us or not doesn’t matter,” Ratchet says. “It’s injured, and if we don’t do something, it’ll succumb to those injuries. It’ll understand we don’t want to hurt it after we patch it up.” He nods to Perceptor. “Go ahead, smoke it out.”

  The scientist’s right servo transforms into a syringe. Ratchet watches with anxiousness churning in his tank as Perceptor presses his left index digit against the side of the ship and presses a small hole straight through with little resistance to stop him. A terrified shout from the human within causes First Aid to whimper.

  Perceptor sticks the upper part of the syringe into the hole, pumping gas into the ship and pulling it back out after a moment, wisps of vapor trailing from the tip. A few seconds later Ratchet hears a string of weak coughs from inside. There is a tense moment where all three of them stand there, and then the doors open and you stumble out with a cloud of gas nearly enveloping your tiny form. You wheeze into your servos, then notice the mechs staring at you and try sprinting right back into the ship. Perceptor cuts you off, slamming his servo down and pinning you under his digits before dragging you back even though you yelp and thrash. You squirm one last time in his grip before suddenly going limp.

  Perceptor gently shifts you to lie in the center of his palm. For a terrifying moment, Ratchet thinks you are offline when he sees how still you are with your optics closed. But then his sensors pick up on the rapid beating of your organic spark, and he relaxes. Not dead. Just simply unconscious.

  “Give it here.” He holds out a waiting servo. Perceptor hands you over; you are given a quick look-over as Ratchet scans your body. There is a nasty cut on the back of your helm, and your vents are gravely bruised with terrible red marks. “Internal bleeding,” he mutters. “As well as external wounds. The crash really messed it up.” He curls his digits lightly over you and brushes his thumb over your forehead. “Doesn’t have a fever though, which is good. Damage is minimal, nothing life threatening. I can have it fixed in a few hours.”

  “You know how to heal organics?” First Aid questions.

  “I’ve been around for a long time. War changes you. I’ve had my equal share of saving Decepticon-ravaged planets inhabited by organics as well as machines.” Ratchet walks over to another berth, being careful not to jostle you too much. “First Aid, go grab the restrainers. We’ll have to keep it still so it doesn’t accidentally hurt itself when it wakes up.”

  “You’ll have to keep it sedated too,” Perceptor says. “I can help with that. Just a little puff of the gas will keep it asleep.”

  “Thank you,” Ratchet says, then pauses. “Listen. Don’t tell anyone about this yet. I don’t want everyone flocking into the medibay and stressing it out. We could accidentally scare this thing to death if we aren’t careful.”

  “I won’t.” Perceptor nods. “Just…make sure it heals properly. I don’t doubt your expertise, but…” He looks down at you, and his optics soften. “It hurts my spark to see something so small in so much pain.”

  First Aid returns with the restrainer. It’s a small mechanism that runs on magnetic power, created by the Lost Light’s resident mad scientist, Brainstorm himself. Ratchet places it directly over your lax form. With a quiet beep, it presses lightly over your midsection, and magnetic bindings weigh down your ankles and wrists. Seeing you trapped like this makes him feel guilty. This obviously isn’t going to be something you will like when you wake up. But there’s no other way for this to go. You won’t understand his good intentions until he heals you. Until then, he has to keep you still.

  He grabs a small serum of glowing blue liquid and bends over you, gently pinching your little fleshy cheeks and working your intake open. “C’mon little one, drink up,” he whispers when he carefully forces the liquid down your throat. He sees your faceplate tighten with discomfort, but your throat pulses as you subconsciously swallow. “There you go. Good human, good human.”

  “What are you giving it?” First Aid asks.

  “Something I learned to make back in my early days,” he replies. “It heals from the inside. Works on both organics and machines.” He pats your cheeks praisingly and draws away. “There. That should help with the bleeding. It’ll be fine now. I’ll continue to monitor it over the next few days.”

  First Aid exhales a relieved sigh. Perceptor reaches out a tentative hand and brushes your hair away from your closed optics. “It’s so small…so soft…”

  “We have to be careful with it,” First Aid frets. “We don’t want it to break.”

  “Listen.” Ratchet’s tone hardens authoritatively. “I said this before, but I’ll say it again. We have to keep this between the three of us. Don’t tell anyone about a human being in here.”

  “But what about the captain?” First Aid asks. “Shouldn’t he know?”

  “The captain can’t know. If he finds out there's a human on the ship, he’ll go nuts with excitement and probably end up accidentally crushing the poor thing. Until I confirm it’s not going to drop dead at any moment, we keep it a secret. Got it?”

  Both bots nod. Ratchet nods with them. “Alright. I’m going to stay here and make sure it’s condition remains stable. You can come back tomorrow to check in on it and see how it’s doing.”

  Perceptor dips his head and leaves without another word. First Aid lingers, optics never leaving you.

  “It’ll be fine,” Ratchet reassures him. “I’ll take care of it. Go recharge.”

  It takes a lot for the other medic to step back and exit the medibay. Ratchet watches him go, then sighs and drags a servo over his faceplate. Becoming the caretaker of an injured organic lifeform was not something he had planned for today. Primus, how the hell am I going to tell Rodimus?

  A soft noise drags his attention away from the alarming thought of what might happen if the extroverted captain learns about his new “crewmate.” He looks down at you and startles a bit. Your eyes, foggy and unfocused, are staring right at him. There’s a fatigued expression of utter terror on your face that once again has his spark feeling like it's been ripped from his chassis and stomped on.

  “You’ll be okay,” he whispers to you. “I promise.”

  You close your eyes and let your helm loll to the side. Ratchet watches the soft rise and fall of your chassis for a few moments longer, then dims the medibay lights and returns to his previous work on the other side of the room.

  Never do you stray far from his mind.

[cheeseanonioncrisps]

I really want the show to go into more detail about Husk's backstory as an overlord, partly because I feel like it's something the fandom is kinda glossing over and partly because it's lowkey one of the biggest obstacles that a Husk/Angel relationship would have into overcome.

'Loser Baby' emphasises the similarities between Angel and Husk's situations, but it also (probably deliberately, since Husk is the one leading it) brushes aside one of the most major differences between them.

Namely that when Husk tells Angel that he's not the only one who sold his soul, he's not just singing about himself.

Husk sold his soul to Alastor, yeah (or lost it at least, which amounts to the same thing), but he also traded in souls. He was that “psychopathic freak”, and was operating fro long enough to achieve Overlord status.

And, honestly? Having your soul owned by Husker back in the day probably sucked.

The one benefit of soul contracts for the person selling their soul is that they seem to get a fair amount of say in how the contract is written.

Angel's contract, for example, apparently has a clause stating that he's only under Valentino's jurisdiction when he's in the studio. (Which, btw, puts a whole other spin on why Val is so pissed when he moves out of studio accommodation and into the Hotel.) And Val is apparently bound to that. Even though he's pissed off and actively wants to put Angel in his place, he can't make any moves against him in the club.

Equally, since most overlords seem to be associated with a specific location/industry, you can generally choose who your working for and therefore roughly what kind of stuff you're gonna be doing.

In practice there seems to be a lot of manipulation and coercion going on on the part of the Overlords making these contracts— they're not fair by any means— but the sinners signing them are theoretically at least guaranteed the right to a (somewhat) informed choice and some control over the deals they make.

Having an Overlord who uses human souls to pay his gambling debts, however, completely undermines all that.

Imagine going into work for your job running the roulette games at the casino only to be told that the boss played a bad hand in a game with Valentino, and so you're a sex worker now.

Or being traded to someone who has you fighting turf wars for them, and realising that your contract doesn't have any clauses to protect your personal safety because you only signed up to be a bartender.

Or selling your soul for a job near your home and family so you can guarantee their protection, only to be traded to someone whose territory is on the other side of the pentagram.

Husk is a victim of his own addiction, yeah, which is one of the reasons why Angel relates to him. But his backstory implies that there must be a significant number of people out there who were also victims of Husk's addiction, and may not be as sympathetic. Dude basically owned other people as property (… we have a word for that) and then literally played games with their lives.

And like, I'm not saying he hasn't changed. He seems more empathetic on the show than his backstory would imply, and apart from anything else, he's had a pretty clear object lesson about what it's like to be on the receiving end of that sort of thing. (Ngl, I'm pretty sure one of the reasons Alastor keeps him around is because he's the type to find the irony amusing.)

But like, he's in this place where he can relate to Angel Dust's situation, while at the same time probably also being able to relate to Valentino and Alastor's perspectives (although I doubt he was quite as bad as Val to work for).

And I'm curious as to what would happen, later in the series, if the gang met someone who had sold their soul to Husk at one point. Someone who would also be able to relate to Angel's situation, but with Husk as their version of Valentino.

[celtic-crossbow]

These will be updated here and there. It’s likely that there’s some I won’t stick to when it comes to requests and even story ideas where they won’t fit.

He hates pickles. Anything that is green and smells that bad does not belong in the food section.  But he loves pickled pigs feet.

He likes sex but can easily live without it. 

He hasn’t been a virgin since his early teens (thanks to Merle and a handful of drug money)

It would take some serious, repeated encouragement and assurance (and a lot of time) before he’s comfortable having sex.

He is the type of guy that goes one step at a time, testing the waters. Making out, touching you, letting you touch him (slowly because his brain has been conditioned to flinch away). Everything would be through the clothes and then progress. Slow and steady wins the race.

He’s a switch. Sometimes, he wants all the say (so to speak) in the bedroom, watching you whimper and beg. Sometimes he just physically needs to give up control to balance the chaos. 

Rarely, when he’s extremely needy, he wants you to tell him he’s a “good boy” and praise him for how incredible he makes you feel. He’d never ask for it but when you call him that on accident, his reaction was quite telling.

He can easily go from gentle to rough. He would never want to hurt you. Squeezing your throat, slapping your ass, teasing your breasts, or leaving love marks with his teeth absolutely do not count as hurting you.

Consent is a huge deal to him.

He’s always been quiet during anything sexual; On the rare occasions he talks, it’s reassurances and quiet, gentle praise. Otherwise, grunts and whimpers and low growls are what you get until he’s about to orgasm.

However, sometimes he’s just so wound up, so needy for you, that he can’t help but moan loudly or call your name.

He always tells you he’s close to or has already started cumming. No real rhyme or reason. Maybe just his way of letting you know that you took him there.

He has a genuine dislike of cats. He doesn’t hate them by any means but if he had to pick an animal that was secretly plotting world domination, it’d be cats. 

He prefers boxer briefs. 

The only name brand clothing he ever owned was underwear because his junk deserves only the best. 

He’s superstitious, even if he pretends not to be. 

He doesn’t like giving his significant other pet names beyond “sunshine,” “pipsqueak”, or “woman.” Things that you find endearing regardless. On rare occasions, he’ll use “doll” or “darlin’.”

He secretly adores when you call him “baby” or “sweetheart.” Pretty much any endearment that labels him as yours.

He rarely (but it does happen) says “I love you.” He’s more of an actions guy and if you say it first, he’ll usually only say “me too” or rub his knuckles over your jaw.

He can’t sleep if his feet are hot. 

Spiders freak him out. 

He wears cords/laces around the bottom of his jeans to keep ticks out of his boots.

He hates showers, not because he just doesn’t like them. Being in a space with scars on display makes him feel vulnerable. The water touching the scars forces him to relive when he received them.

Contrary to popular belief, he does keep specific areas of his body acceptably clean, using the bathroom sink or river/lake/creek when he’s in the forest.

The dirt and grime that coat his skin is a grounding reminder of who he is, so he doesn’t completely lose himself in that dystopian world.

He has never hunted for sport, only for survival. He respects nature and what it provides.

He loves to read. His favorite book is The Outsiders.

He doesn't/wouldn't understand why his girl can't talk to him instead of a stranger. He would need some mental health education as the urging of Carol or Michonne before even remotely understanding. He wants to be supportive, first and foremost.

He fights tooth and nail to avoid getting "his head shrunk" but in the end, if it meant not losing his girl, he'd give in.

He is a horrible patient for physical ailments and even worse for mental ones.

He would 100% pass out while watching his partner give birth.

He would go above and beyond to give his kid everything he wished for as a child. He would risk life and limb for material objects: bikes, candy, stuffed animals.

[muzansfangs]

You tell them you got a brazilian wax by a guy.

Starring: Aizen Sosuke x f!reader; Urahara Kisuke x f!reader; Shunsui Kyoraku x f!reader; Byakuya Kuchiki x f!reader;

Format: short imagines;

Warnings: nsfw, fluff, human/modern au, mention to female nudity, jealousy, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, language, creampie, oral sex (Aizen!receiving), vaginal sex, spanking, choking, spying on a partner, mention to murderous intents, wax play.

Plot: A trend on Tik Tok made you plot a devious plan to make your beloved boyfriend going mad. He knew you had an appointment for a brazilian wax. He obviously assumed you were going to be assisted by a woman. How will he react, when you tell him it was a man? Will his jealousy go too far? Will your prank get you in a bad situation?

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Sosuke Aizen.

You knew better than messing with him. Your boyfriend and his god complex, along with his mania for having everything under his control could truly be lethal. Quite literally. Yet, you were bored that Friday night. Sosuke was not around and you ended up slumping onto your couch, phone in hand, scrolling through Tik Tok in search for a way to entertain yourself.

You did not really do much, beside chuckling every now and then. Well, that was until you came across a specific trend regarding a thing you were not unfamiliar with. As you watched the way a poor boyfriend freaked out at the thought of his girlfriend getting a brazilian wax from a guy, you could not restrain yourself from testing the waters. Aizen Sosuke, the cold-blooded mastermind you shared a roof with, was going to experience a man’s personal living hell.

It was a monday evening, when he came back from work just to find you laying on your stomach on your shared bed, in a set of black lingerie he had bought for you a few months ago, chuckling to yourself. He furrowed his brows, settling his briefcase onto the armchair beside the window, as he slowly removed his jacket.

His predatory eyes roamed over your curves. He knew you had gone to your monthly wax appointment. He could see your smooth legs and the way your lingerie already showed shaved portions of your nether regions supposed to be covered. If you had opted for such a provocative attire, it could only mean that you wanted to show off your body to him.

“Hello, darling” he greeted you, his trademark grin crossing his lips as he tugged at his black tie to loosen it.

It was hard to keep your play on, as you watched him slowly get ready to devour you. He always took his time, confident that his cold and charming demeanor worked magic on you even before his hands started to trace the curves of your body. It was true, unfortunately. But you had to resist. It was your time to torture him, after all.

“Hey” you whispered, lifting yourself up on your knees as he approached the bed.

He swept his tongue over his bottom lip, his hand cupping your cheek as he stood at the edge of the bed, leaning down to let his mouth collide with yours in a demanding kiss. You could not deny yourself such a treat and you returned it with equal passion, earning a guttural grunt from him.

He did not say much, he sat down next to you and it was a silent signal for you to climb over his lap and straddle him as you always did. He had somehow trained you to have some reactions and do specific things in response to his gestures. Sosuke Aizen surely had his own way to make you bend the knee effortlessly at his silent requests.

As you straddled him, his hand reached up to grasp his glasses and he hastily took them off, discarding them somewhere beside him on the bed without bothering to fold them. It was so atypical of him. He seemed eager to have you that night and you could not help yourself but tease him about it. After all, pouring gasoline on a wild fire was the right thing to do to get him even more eager.

“Damn, are you that eager to see me naked?” you taunted him, as he darted his brown chocolate hues on your again. There it was, his lustful glare that made your knees buckle.

“Actually, I’m eager to fuck you” he deadpanned, his hand landing on your neck and squeezing it enough to keep you in place, as his other hand tugged your thong to the side and he glided the pads of his fingers down your slit.

You gasped, arching your back as he smirked down at you “You’re already dripping… If it’s so easy to get you wet, I wonder how you don’t make a mess on your beautician’s couch while texting me” he joked, drawing figures eight on your bundle of nerves.

There you were, ready to drop the bomb.

As he delved his fingers into your aching core, a strained moan falling from your lips, you glanced at him with an innocent smile on your face, as you made the ground shake under his feet “Oh, I guess I have been lucky today. Can you imagine Robert’s face, if I stained the couch?”.

Congrats, Aizen.exe stopped working.

He froze solid, his fingers were still buried deep into you, but he was not thrusting them in his usual smooth movements that made you squirm. His eyes were locked with yours, a small frown on his face. You genuinely thought you had just given him an heart attack.

“Robert” he repeated flatly, clearly unamused.

It was in moments like this, when he was serious, seraphic, that you feared him the most. Aizen could be dangerous, truly dangerous. The hint of wrath sparkling into his eyes gave you chills and you uncomfortably darted your eyes away from him. The carpet underneath his shoes suddenly seemed particularly interesting.

“Yeah, Robert. The new guy who works for my beautician. You know, he helps her” you stated, you mouth feeling like chalk all of a sudden.

The dry laughter leaving Sosuke’s lips made you shiver and it took you a few seconds to realize you had royally screwed up, because he was so nimble to wrap his hand around your throat again, and pin you to the bed underneath him, that you had not realized your position had switched so suddenly.

“I don’t doubt it. He must have enjoyed the view of your legs spread wide in front of his stupid face. — he chimed, a devious smile curling his lips as he paused to clench his teeth — A stupid face I’ll gladly fuck up tonight. Would you love to see it, love? I could take his heart to you, offering his pulsing, wretched organ to you. I’ll gauge his eyes out of his skull. I’ll squeeze the life out of him—” he hissed, each time the threat becoming similar to the ones the slashers whispered through the phones to their victims in the stupid movies he loved to watch with you, only to feel you curl up next to him on your sofa.

They were hilarious, according to him.

“Aizen, I was fucking joking! Stop! It was a trend I ran into on Tik Tok!” you quipped, eyes rounded as you cut him off.

Your boyfriend arched his dark eyebrows up, tilting his head to the side and slowly releasing his grip on your neck. He looked almost disappointed. Not towards you. Maybe, he truly wished to kill someone. Because he would kill whoever dared to even glance at you.

His jealousy was skyrocketing.

“I see. — he stated then, before hopping back on his feet and slowly unbuckling his black leather belt — Since you love to use this pretty mouth of yours for talking bullshit, open it to make amend. I’ll obviously come into your mouth, darling. I expect you to swallow” he hissed, gripping your hair and dropping his pants down to his ankles.

Maybe, just maybe, he took a day off from work every month to accompany you to the beauty point. Perhaps, he stalked you down, when you went on your own, because the idea of a random Robert staring and touching your pubes truly made him want to commit a mass murder.

Shunsui Kyoraku.

Shunsui was the perfect victim for this trend. As soon as you ran into that video, you could picture the look of horror on his face as you told him another man had touched you in such an intimate spot. You were simply his. No man could enjoy the sight of you with your legs opened wide to show off your intimacy, no man but him. Eveything was settled and your plan took place two days after you had visited your beautician.

Shunsui had just returned home after a business trip and you had decided to welcome him not only by cooking his favorite dish and buying some extra saké, but by being his personal dessert.

As he ran his hands down your smooth thighs and practically folded you in half, your legs pressed against your chest, you knew that teasing him in the aftermath of such a passionate encounter was going to do numbers on him. His little usual nap was going to wait, after all, because his mind was just about to get pested with horrendous scenarios of a non-existing man exploring his little nest.

“There it is… Look at you, baby, you got such a perfect little hole to fill with my cum” Shunsui panted, his fingers gently spreading your labia as he watched in pride and awe his seed oozing out from you.

You were absolutely drained, your thighs still trembling and your breath irregular as you tried to get a grip of yourself and calm down. Yet, how could you, when the man who had just fucked you to oblivion was Shunsui Kyoraku? He had such a fine way to unravel you that you almost felt guilty for what you were about to say.

Lazily pushing yourself up on your elbows, you hummed and watched Shunsui slump down next to you “Oh, I know. You are definitely not the first man who has ever told me that” you casually commented, sitting up properly and running your fingers through your hair in a futile attempt to fix them.

Shunsui knew about your ex. Even though he was jealous about anyone that was not him, he still did not think of your ex as a ghost from the past threatening your relationship and he actually had no issues in listening to you talking about him. After all, you were his. That man had lost you forever.

“Well, your ex then had his way with words too” your boyfriend stated, a playful smile crossing his lips.

“My ex? Nah, I’m talking about Murata” you replied, laying back down and rolling on your side to face him.

Shunsui Kyoraku, your loving man, was now definitely interested in what you were saying.

Arching his eyebrows up and resting his head on the palm of his hand, he curiously inquired “Who’s Murata? Your gynecologist?”.

You chuckled and shook your head “My what? No, babe, I’m talking about my new beautician’s co-worker. Murata is such an amazing guy, you know? His fingers are so delicate and he applies the wax in a tender way” you lied, sounding as serious as you possibly could.

You swore you had seen his eye twitch, as he grasped your hip drew you closer to him. Your eyes widened as Shunsui’s hand slided down the small of your back and cupped your rear, giving it a firm squeeze.

“Where did this Murata boy put his fingers?” he huskily asked you, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as you swallowed thickly. Oh, you knew exactly what was going to happen.

Were you regretting that little stunt you had pulled? Oh, you were for sure.

At your lack of answers, Shunsui sighed and rolled you onto your stomach. His hands gripped your hips and he raised your waist up, until it was at the perfect level with his pelvis. But no, he was not going to claim his domain on your inner walls again. A little punishment was in store fore you.

“Poor little baby, she tries to prank me but cannot even play the part until the very end. Good, that’s good, though” he chuckled, before you parted your lips to let a soft whimper leave them and turn your stomach upside down.

“Shunsui! Babe, I’m sorry! It was a prank! I promise” you piped out, blushing as you hid your face down onto the pillow.

“I’m not having it”.

Spanks it was. But he surely made it up to you later on.

Urahara Kisuke.

Your pervert boyfriend and this trend were a perfect combination for a disaster. It was like throwing powder into a fire. But it sounded like a good idea for you, therefore you persuaded yourself nothing would have gone wrong. Kisuke was not a jealous man. Of course he was protective and a bit territorial, but he never actually made a scene or freaked out, when a man tried to hit on you. He believed you could handle the situation perfectly on your own and, on top of that, if he had to step up and chase the stranger away, he surely avoided violent conflicts.

You two were laying onto your shared bed, Kisuke on top of you, as his mouth was latched onto your throat and his hand was currently between your thighs.

Whimpers and heavy breaths filled the air, while his fingers deftly plunged into you, making your lips part to chant a lewd melody he loved. He knew so many ways of making your knees buck and drag orgasms out of you that it was not a surprise that simply fingering you could make you scream out his name.

“Do you even realize how wet you are? You’ve soaked my whole hand and wrist, you dirty kitten” he cooed in your ear, slowing down the pace he had set a tad bit to enjoy the way your walls clenched onto his slender fingers so tightly.

As he did that, decided to slip his fingers out of you, only to glide them down your folds and enjoying how soft, smooth and slippery they were after the wax appointment you had gone to yesterday.

“So soft, you are so soft, you know?” he teased you, grinning as he took his hat off with his free hand.

Now or never. It was time to drop your bomb.

“Yeah, I know. — you breathed out, glancing up at him and resting the back of your hand over your forehead before letting out a dramatic sigh —I expected you to use some original terms to describe my pussy, though. I mean, Jason used those exact words yesterday. Tsk, I expected you to do better than him” you gingerly said, averting your eyes from him.

Urahara Kisuke went silent. The pads of his fingers glued to your folds, he tried to process what you had just said. A man? Did you mention a man? Additionally, not even a native one, judging by his name, therefore he surely did not know him.

“I’m sorry, who in the holy Soul Society is Jason?” he quizzically asked, tilting his head to the side as he stared at you in utter shock.

“Who?”.

“Jason. Who is this J-A-S-O-N man?” he replied, his eyes dangerously darting onto the lit candle on the night stand.

If his kitten was up for playing with fire, he was going to let you play with it.

“Oh, Jason, right… Well, he waxed me yesterday. He praised my flesh in such a basic way it was hard not to laugh at his face” you replied, pushing yourself up onto your elbows as Kisuke simply hummed and reached for the candle.

At first you got confused, eyebrows knitted together while your eyes followed his moves and the way he began to look at your thighs while licking his lips. It was only then that you remembered how he had wished to try some wax play with you. Eyes widening in shock, you gawked and sat up.

“Kisuke! Baby, wait, wait! I was kidding! It was a trend I ran into on Tik Tok! I promise, I’ll cut the crap!” you fretted, cupping his cheek in your hand and peppering his face in kisses. You were evidently begging for mercy.

The shop-keeper, however, shrugged and delicately pushed you back down as he smiled at you “Oh, I see! But you now owe me some sex therapy, kitten. Now, let me try some wax play and I’ll eat you up. I’ll make you scream so loud Aizen will hear from Muken!” he taunted you, winning you over with his last joke.

“You are a dork…” you chuckled, slapping his shoulder.

Byakuya Kuchiki.

If someone wanted to get a reaction out of this stolid man it was by messing with you. How did they even think about touching his delicate flower, the woman who had successfully made him smile again after so long? A mad Byakuya was not a problem people wished to deal with and, naturally, you did not want to make blood run down the streets. But it was so tempting, so fun. You could not restrain yourself, right? Your boyfriend needed to experience that little trauma too.

It was a lovely summer night, your boyfriend was still locked up in his office and you decided to pay him a visit. Along with buying some take-away in his favorite restaurant, you were going to deliver him a rather spicy dessert. No one was around anymore. The only sound eachoing down the corridor was the sound of your heels clicking onto the marble floor.

When Byakuya saw you walking past the threshold of his office, he faintly smiled. You were surley a sight to behold, especially in that flowery dress he adored. Running up to him, you threw your arms around your neck and pecked his lips gently.

“I was missing you” you said softly, as he made you sit comfortable onto his lap.

Byakuya hummed and kissed your nape, his arms hugging your waist as he redirected his gaze back on the laptop on his desk. He worked way too much, but how could he not? The Family Company constantly required his attention and assistance. But now you were there, ready to catch his attention with some salty prank.

“How was your day, love?” he asked you softly, typing something on the keyboard.

“Quite good. — you stated, smiling softly — And I got some news. My beautician had called in sick today, I was assisted by her colleague” you absent-mindedly said, not getting much of a reaction out of him. You had been vague, indeed. He had no reason to suspect anything, after all.

“Really? And was his colleague good?” he asked.

“Oh, yes! Really good. I got to say I was put in a rather unusual position, but overall he was professional” you chimed, closing your eyes as you mentally prepared for hellfire to break out.

And it did.

Byakuya cleared his throat, his grip on your waist tightening even so slightly as he nosed your cheek gently “He?”.

“Yep. I’m talking about Santiago” you casually said, smiling softly.

“Santiago. Mh, I see. — he replied, prompting you stand up, much to your dismay and confusion, but as he grasped the back of your neck and pushed you down onto the empty side of the deak, you squirmed — And was the position he asked you to strike that uncomfortable?” he said calmly, unbuckling his belt with one hand, meanwhile he allowed the other one to hike the skirt of your dress up.

“Y-Yes… You could say so” you meekly replied.

The smack on your rear you received afterwards making you squeak out softly, your foreteeth sinking onto your bottom lip.

Byakuya sighed, lowering his mouth to your ear “You know, baby, when you want to prank someone, you should be careful in not messing up the plan. How was I supposed to fall for that, when you have sent me the link of the video?” he purred, as you gaped in shock.

Your jaw went slack, as reality dawned onto you: so that was why Rangiku had not replied to your video and text ‘check this out, Byakuya is gonna be so mad’.

You had sent it to Byakuya.

“Baby, I’m so, so sorry! It was a cute idea!” you protested, but he had already slipped your panties down your thighs, a soft groan leaving his lips as his fingers glided down your smooth slit, earning a little squirm from you.

“I know. I have a cute idea too. Spread your legs and let me show what I am talking about” he practically commanded.

Gosh, did that make you wet.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hello there! An old draft and promise to some of you that I have finally finished! Thank you so much for having been so patient, I genuinely appreciate your feedback and enthusiasm at times. This was pretty fun to write and definitely a breath of fresh air from all of my other requests. Let me know what you think about it! Likes, comments and re-posts are greatly appreacited!

Until then,

X O X O

TAGS: @electronicwitchcollection @aizenwifey @cyberdazetragedy @hearrrtfillia @eeeextttt @luccis-coochie @niya12 @juleenbety @moris666 @virette @sillylittlefellas @elijangwifey @han11dh

[marypsue]

There’ve been a few responses to/reblogs with tags on my post about DIY clothing embellishments that basically boil down to ‘I’d love to do this but I’m scared it’ll turn out bad/I’m not a good enough artist’. And I get it, I really do! I also want my art things to turn out nicely. But also...making it badly is sort of the point of punk DIY. 

Listen. We live in a world that would dearly love to charge you a subscription fee for breathing. The bastards are doing everything they possibly can to figure out how to turn art - stories, visual art, music, textile/fibre art, sculpture, crafts and creations of every kind - into a neat, discrete, packageable commodity, a product they can chop up into little pieces and stick behind a paywall so they can charge you for every drop of it you want to have in your life. 

The whole sneering idea that ‘everybody wants to be some kind of creator now’ and anything less than absolute mastery right out the gate is somehow shameful and embarrassing is a tool those bastards are using. It’s a way to reinforce the idea that only a set group of people can create and control art, and everybody else has to buy it. 

But art isn’t a product. Art is a fundamental human impulse. Nobody is entitled to a specific piece of art (which is where this message gets skewed into pitting people who love art against the artists who make it, while the bastards screw us all and run away with the money). But making art belongs to everybody. We make up songs and dances and stories, and paint things, and make clothes, and embellish them, and carve flowers into our furniture and our lintels and our doorframes, and make windows out of tiny pieces of coloured glass, and decorate our homes and our bodies and our lives with things we make and make up, simply for the love of beauty and of the act of creation. Grave goods from tens of thousands of years ago show that ancient hominids gave their dead wreaths of ceramic flowers, tattooed their bodies, beaded their shoes. Making things for the sake of beauty and enjoyment is one of the most ancient and human things we can do. 

The idea that we can’t, that we have to buy shit instead, because art is a product and you have to have the bestest prettiest most perfect product, is the enemy of joy. It’s the death of culture. And it means that, instead of whatever it is that you cherish and enjoy and value, you get whatever inoffensive (and to whom is it inoffensive?) bland meaningless samey-samey crap that the bastards want you to be allowed to have. What are you missing and what are you missing out on, if you don’t make or modify or decorate anything for yourself, if you don’t think you can because the product at the end won’t be polished or perfect or marketable enough? What do you lose? What do we lose? 

It is a desperately vital and necessary thing for you to make shit. For you to know that you can make shit, that you don’t have to just lie back and take whatever pablum the bastards want to force-feed you (and charge you through the nose for). That the bastards need you more than you need them. 

Become ungovernable. Be your own weirdly-endearing punk little freak. Paint on a t-shirt. Sing off-key in the shower or at karaoke night or at open mic night. Make up a story where you get to meet your favourite fictional character and you guys hug or fuck or punch each other in the face. Make art. Do it badly. Do it frequently. Do it enthusiastically. Do it for love and joy and creativity and fun and the spiteful joy of thumbing your nose at some smug motherfucker with a Swiss bank account who wants to track your heartbeat and location for the rest of your life in order to automatically pump AI-generated beats matched to your mood into your earbuds for a small monthly subscription fee of $24.99/month. It is literally the only way we are ever going to have even a chance to save art and our own lives from the bastards. 

So. Paint that t-shirt. 

(Also support artists where you can, and buy your music from Bandcamp.)

[nolongerapileofashprobably]

Just like how botw had small details telling us the probable ‘canonical’ route Link took (aka Zora, Rito, Goron, and then Gerudo), totk has something similar. I’m sure all players noticed that the newspapers will feature one region that is meant to direct Link to go aid the people there. First is Rito, next is Goron, third is Zora, and last is Gerudo. BUT! They also added something else.

Zelda’s role in the story. Namely, her interactions with Tulin, Yunobo, King Dorephan, and Riju. Annnnnnddd Link’s reactions to her!

Tulin’s interaction with her is one meant to confuse players: Zelda was in the past, but Tulin saw her? So she’s here in the present and we’re chasing after her. Sounds a lot like Skyward Sword, okay (which was released on the switch last year, so anyone who didn’t play it back in 2012 had another chance to). It confuses Link, but spurs him to become a journalist ? Cool, I’m here for it. I did journalism for 4 years, I’m sure Link can do it too!

Then, for Yunobo, he actively speaks to Zelda, we see her figure, and Link will actively gasp whenever we see her. He has a genuine reaction to her presence, because he’s surprised, but then we see pink gloom glow in the mask that Zelda have Yunobo and it makes him freak out land turn against Link. That’s when we start to put together that maybe Zelda is being controlled? Or she’s NOT Zelda, just as Yunobo begins to theorize but can’t quite wrap his head around it.

Next, we have King Dorephan who is actually attacked by Zelda and is injured to the point that he decides to hide from his people as to not create more chaos in this time. He chooses to give Zelda the benefit of the doubt here— he could have easily had his people turn against Hyrule and all Hylians because of Zelda’s actions. But he doesn’t! Because it simply doesn’t make sense. And by the end of the quest, Sidon comes to the conclusion that the Zelda in the past and the Zelda in the present are NOT the same.

And we see that thought truly stick with Link in a cutscene in Gerudo. After defending Kara Kara Bazaar, Zelda appears and Riju calls out for her. There is no gasp from Link like with Yunobo’s story, instead he watches Zelda with a slightly narrowed gaze and does not stop watching where she was last seen until Riju directly addresses him. They actively show the players that Link is suspicious, but he is still so very dedicated.

And it happens again, in the center of the light triangle. Zelda appears and Link begins to walk toward her, but there is no intake of breath, no shock at seeing her… instead he slowly walks until Riju calls out for him.

After Link finishes each phenomenon, going to Lookout Landing gives the players a clue in how Link is reacting. Specifically, if you speak to Buliara before going to see Purah, she says something along the lines of “Purah is up on the top deck, but don’t miss a wrung in your haste to get up there.”

Link is expected to rush. Because everyone is muttering about a figure that MIGHT be Zelda. At the castle. Right. Then. And. There.

Link GASPS when he first looks into the scope— Purah doesn’t even say it’s Zelda, not before Link sees for himself. It’s seeing her, clear as day, and even if Link KNOWS it’s not her… there’s still that seed of doubt that lives in his mind. And then at the castle, Link does twist and turn whenever he hears Zelda. He rushes after her every. Single. Time. She disappears. Despite that he knows it isn’t her, he can’t give up. He can’t. It’s quite literally not in his DNA. He sees it through; he needs to make sure it isn’t her. And it’s all a trap, one he walks right into, because he just HAS to see that it isn’t her.

And if you want to say “but Ash… this is just a recap of the storyline in the present.. not small details” let us just remember that Link’s driving motivation in this game is to find Zelda and bring her home. So many people just ignore these little moments or miss them completely.

And I’ll be damned if I don’t talk about link’s gasps or his twists and turns or his micro expressions that tell us so much about how he is feeling.