#now that i finally got this out of my system i can go back to work now

[olderwomenenthusiast]

southern accent (spencer reid)

PAIRING: spencer reid & fem reader DESCRIPTION: spencer is fascinated, maybe more than by your southern accent CAUTION: swearing, the usual smut, a flustered spencer WORD COUNT: 4.6k AUTHOR'S NOTE: proof read? obviously not x

You were frustrated. More than frustrated, actually. Your fingers gripped the edge of the desk in the BAU bullpen, knuckles turning white as you glared at your computer screen. The case report you had painstakingly typed up had just disappeared into the void of your glitchy system. And then, to top it off, the printer jammed when you tried to get a hard copy of what little had been saved.

Spencer had been watching you for a while. He always did, though he’d never admit it. But this time, he noticed something different - something fascinating.

“You have got to be kidding me,” you muttered under your breath, voice sharper than usual.

He tilted his head slightly. There was something about your voice… a shift he couldn’t quite place at first. Then you exhaled harshly and muttered again, this time with an unmistakable drawl, “Lord help me, I swear this stupid thing is ‘bout to get thrown across the room.”

Spencer’s breath hitched. That was not how you usually sounded.

He blinked, taken aback, his analytical mind scrambling for an explanation. He had known you for quite some time now, and while you had once casually mentioned growing up in the South, your accent had always been faint, almost nonexistent. But now? Now it dripped from your lips like honey, slow and warm, curling around your vowels and stretching them out in ways that sent an unexpected shiver down his spine.

He swallowed hard, forcing himself to focus on the situation at hand and not the way his stomach suddenly felt like it was flipping over itself. He knew accents could resurface in moments of high emotion, but knowing that intellectually did nothing to prepare him for the way yours affected him.

“Are you okay?” he asked, voice slightly uneven, betraying his intrigue.

You groaned, pressing your hands to your temples. “No, Spencer, I ain’t okay. This dang system just ate my report, and now the printer’s actin’ like it was built in the Stone Age.”

There it was again. That thick, sweet twang wrapping around every syllable. Spencer felt his pulse quicken. He wasn’t sure why this was affecting him so much, but he couldn’t ignore it. He found himself leaning in slightly, completely absorbed.

“I—uh—I can help,” he offered quickly, clearing his throat. He hoped you didn’t notice the faint pink rising to his cheeks.

You sighed, frustration ebbing slightly as you finally turned to look at him. “You sure, sugar? ‘Cause at this point, I’m ‘bout ready to throw in the towel.”

Spencer sucked in a sharp breath. Sugar. You had never called him that before. He suddenly felt like his brain had short-circuited.

“I—uh—yeah. Yes. I’m sure,” he stammered, quickly reaching for the keyboard to avoid making eye contact.

You didn’t seem to notice his internal crisis, but Derek, who had been passing by, certainly did. Morgan shot Spencer a knowing smirk, arching a brow before strolling off without a word.

Spencer took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. He was going to fix your computer. He was going to focus. He was definitely not going to think about how much he suddenly wanted to hear you frustrated more often.

Or worse, what else that accent would sound like in different circumstances.

Later, in the breakroom, Spencer found himself cornered by Morgan, who was leaning casually against the counter with an all-too-knowing grin.

"So, pretty boy," Morgan started, crossing his arms. "You got a thing for accents, or just hers?"

Spencer nearly choked on his coffee. "W-what? I don't..I mean, it's just. It's fascinating how regional dialects can resurface under stress. It's purely academic."

Morgan snorted. "Right. Purely academic. That's why you looked like you'd been hit with a freight train back there." He smirked, watching Spencer squirm. "Be honest, man. You like it when she gets all riled up, don't you?"

Spencer opened his mouth to protest but, before he could stop himself, he blurted out, "I'd like to hear it in my bed."

The room went silent. Spencer’s eyes widened in horror as Morgan's grin stretched impossibly wider.

"Oh-ho, Reid," Morgan laughed, shaking his head. "Now that is something I did not expect."

Spencer groaned, burying his face in his hands. "This is going to haunt me forever, isn't it?"

Morgan laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. "Oh, pretty boy, you have no idea. This one's getting filed under 'Reid's Greatest Hits' - right at the top."

Morgan, of course, didn’t keep it to himself. Over the next few hours, he made sure to drop little hints whenever you were around.

“You know, sweetheart,” he said casually when you grabbed a file from his desk, “it’s real funny how some people find accents so… intoxicating.”

You arched a brow. “Uh-huh. And what’s that got to do with me?”

Morgan smirked. “Oh, nothin’. Just an observation.”

Later, when you reached for your coffee, he muttered just loud enough for you to hear, “I bet that drawl sounds even better behind closed doors.”

You nearly choked on your drink. “What the hell, Morgan?”

He just laughed and walked off, leaving you thoroughly confused - and curious.

By the time you finally cornered Spencer, you had a strong suspicion that whatever Morgan had been hinting at involved the good doctor himself.

“Okay, what the hell is goin’ on with you?” you finally demanded, catching him in the hallway when he thought he was in the clear. Your accent was softer now, but still present, and Spencer cursed the way it made his stomach twist.

“W-what do you mean?” he asked, adjusting his satchel, avoiding your eyes.

You crossed your arms, narrowing your gaze. “You’ve been actin’ weird all day. Avoidin’ me like I got the plague. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were runnin’ from me.”

Spencer swallowed hard, knowing he was caught. His brain was screaming at him to say something, anything that wasn’t the truth. But instead, his mouth betrayed him. Again.

“I, um… I just—I didn’t mean to say that earlier.”

You blinked. “Say what?”

Spencer turned red. “What I said to Morgan. About… your accent. And my—uh—bed.”

Silence stretched between you, thick and heavy. Spencer wished the ground would swallow him whole. But then - then you smiled. It wasn’t mocking, nor cruel. No, it was slow and teasing, a wicked glint in your eye.

“Well now, Dr. Reid,” you drawled, voice dipping into that honeyed Southern lilt. “That’s quite the confession.”

Spencer’s brain short-circuited. Again. He opened and closed his mouth, his thoughts scrambling like papers caught in a windstorm. He had no idea how to recover from this. How did one backpedal from such a blatant admission?

“You—uh—weren’t supposed to hear that,” he finally managed, cringing internally because he basically just told you that himself – aloud. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, gripping the strap of his satchel like it was a lifeline.

You took a slow step forward, and Spencer, for all his intelligence, had nowhere to run. He was effectively trapped, his back against the wall, your voice curling around him like a warm, velvety ribbon.

“So… you like my accent, huh?” You let the words roll off your tongue lazily, like you had all the time in the world to watch him squirm.

Spencer’s breath hitched. “I...it’s—um—linguistically speaking...”

“Oh, bless your heart,” you teased, reaching out to lightly tug at his tie. It was barely a touch, but Spencer felt it like an electric shock. “You can dress it up however you like, sugar, but the way you reacted earlier tells me all I need to know.”

Spencer swore his heart was trying to escape his chest. “I—uh—”

You leaned in, just close enough that he could feel the warmth of your breath against his ear. “And just so you know… I don’t mind one bit.”

His brain completely flatlined.

You pulled back, giving him one last lingering glance before turning on your heel and sauntering away, hips swaying just enough to be intentional.

Spencer stood there, stunned into silence, pulse racing, mouth slightly parted.

“Oh-ho, pretty boy,” came Morgan’s unmistakable voice from behind him. “You are so screwed.”

Spencer groaned, pressing his forehead against the wall.

He was so in trouble.

The bullpen was eerily quiet now, empty save for the two of you. Everyone else had left ages ago, even Morgan, though not without throwing Spencer one last knowing smirk before heading out.

Spencer had tried, like really tried to shake the feeling that had been simmering in his chest ever since your little exchange in the hallway. But it was impossible when you were still here, moving around like you had no idea what you were doing to him.

He stole a glance at you as you gathered your things, your soft hum filling the silence, that accent of yours still lingering in his mind like an unsolved puzzle he desperately wanted to figure out.

He was so screwed.

“Y’ready, sugar?” you asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Spencer blinked rapidly. “Uh yeah. Yes. Ready.”

You smirked, clearly amused by how frazzled he still was, and led the way toward the elevator. The ride down was quiet, but not awkward. The air was thick with something unspoken, something Spencer wasn’t quite sure how to navigate.

When you stepped outside, the night air was crisp, carrying the distant hum of the city. You started toward your car, and Spencer, ever the gentleman, fell into step beside you.

It was a short walk, but with each step, Spencer felt his nerves coil tighter. He knew he should say something, should at least attempt to recover from his earlier humiliation, but his words failed him.

Finally, as you reached your car, he shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked on his heels. “Well, uh… goodnight,” he said, voice slightly higher than usual.

You raised a brow, lips quirking as you leaned back against the car door. “That’s it?”

Spencer frowned. “What do you mean?”

You tilted your head, studying him, clearly enjoying the way he fidgeted under your gaze. Then, before he could register what was happening, your fingers hooked around his tie, giving it a gentle tug.

Spencer barely had time to gasp before your lips crashed into his.

A soft, muffled sound of surprise escaped him, but he didn’t pull away. No, he melted into you, his hands instinctively coming to rest on your waist, fingers twitching against the fabric of your blouse.

Your lips moved slowly, deliberately, and Spencer - despite his usual awkwardness - was a quick learner. He responded in kind, his breath hitching when you deepened the kiss just slightly, your body pressing against his.

It was intoxicating.

Everything about you, the warmth of your skin, the way your fingers tightened around his tie, that damn accent still lingering in the air, had him utterly undone.

When you finally pulled back, Spencer’s lips were parted, his breathing uneven, his pupils blown wide.

You smirked. “Goodnight, sugar.”

Spencer stood there, frozen, his mind struggling to catch up with what had just happened. You had kissed him. You had kissed him. And it had been… electrifying.

He swallowed thickly, adjusting his tie like it would somehow fix the fact that his entire body was burning from the inside out. His lips tingled, still carrying the warmth of yours, but he forced himself to take a step back.

“Uh - goodnight,” he said again, voice weak, shaky.

Then, like an absolute idiot, he turned and started walking away.

You watched him go, amusement flickering in your eyes as you leaned against your car. Bless his heart, you thought, shaking your head.

But Spencer only made it a few steps before something inside him snapped.

No.

No, he couldn’t just walk away from that.

Without another thought, he spun on his heel and strode back toward you, determination flashing in his eyes.

Before you could even register what was happening, Spencer’s hands were on your face, cupping your cheeks with a newfound confidence.

Then he kissed you.

Not hesitant, not unsure - this time, it was fierce.

Your back hit the car as he pressed against you, his fingers threading through your hair, tilting your head just the way he wanted. His lips moved against yours with a hunger you hadn’t expected from him, but damn, you weren’t about to complain.

A soft noise escaped you, and that sound, that sound, sent a shiver down Spencer’s spine. His grip tightened slightly, one hand slipping to your waist, pulling you flush against him.

It was overwhelming, the way he kissed you now. Like he’d been holding back for far too long. Like he needed to make up for the mistake of walking away in the first place.

And God, he was good at it.

When he finally pulled back, his breath was ragged, his forehead resting against yours.

“That,” he murmured, his voice low, rough, “was the actual goodnight.”

You blinked up at him, dazed, lips still tingling. Then, with a slow, wicked smile, you whispered, “Well, sugar… if that’s how you say goodnight, I might need you to stay a little longer.”

Spencer’s breath was still uneven, his hands still gripping you like he was afraid you might disappear. Your words echoed in his head - if that’s how you say goodnight, I might need you to stay a little longer - and something inside him snapped.

He kissed you again, harder this time, as if the act itself might ground him, might make you more real in this fleeting moment. His body pressed against yours, his fingers digging into your hips, and you let out a soft moan against his lips, the sound like a spark to dry tinder.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured against your mouth, his voice hoarse, desperate, like he was fighting a battle with himself.

You exhaled a shaky breath, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him even closer, your heart racing with both anticipation and something deeper, more vulnerable. “Don’t you dare stop, sugar.”

That was all the permission he needed.

With a low growl, Spencer’s hands moved quickly, his fingers fumbling with the car handle before it gave way with a soft click. His urgency had you breathless as he guided you inside, never breaking contact, never letting you slip away from him. The car was cramped, but neither of you cared.

The moment you pulled Spencer into the backseat with you, any hesitation he might have had melted away. His body pressed flush against yours, his lips moving hungrily over your own as the car door slammed shut behind him.

It was rushed, desperate, like the two of you had been holding back for far too long, and now that the dam had broken, there was no stopping the flood.

Spencer’s hands were everywhere - trailing down your sides, gripping your hips, sliding up under your shirt to feel the warmth of your skin. He groaned against your mouth when your nails raked lightly over his scalp, tugging at his curls just enough to make his hips jerk against yours.

“Fuck,” he breathed, voice shaky as he rested his forehead against yours. “You.. this..God, I want you so bad.”

His confession sent a shiver down your spine, and you rolled your hips against him again, grinning when you felt just how hard he was through his slacks.

“I can feel that, sugar,” you teased, your accent dripping, knowing damn well what it did to him.

Spencer let out a strangled moan, his grip tightening on your waist. “You’re gonna kill me,” he murmured, but there was no frustration in his voice - only pure need.

“Mm, not before I make it worth your while,” you whispered, slipping your fingers down between your bodies to work at his belt.

His breath hitched, his entire body tensing as you made quick work of the buckle, then the button, then the zipper. The second your hand slipped beneath the fabric, wrapping around his cock, Spencer whimpered.

“Jesus Christ --”

His head dropped to your shoulder, his hips jerking into your touch as you stroked him slowly, teasingly, savoring the way he trembled beneath your fingers.

“You’re so sensitive, baby,” you mused, kissing the shell of his ear.

Spencer groaned, his teeth grazing over your neck before he retaliated, his fingers dipping beneath the waistband of your pants, slipping between your folds.

“Shit --” Your back arched, a gasp tearing from your lips as he teased your entrance, his breath hot against your skin.

“You’re so wet,” he murmured in awe, sliding one long finger inside of you, then another, curling them just right. “Is this all for me?”

You moaned, rocking against his hand, your grip tightening around him. “All for you, baby. Just you.”

Spencer groaned at your words, capturing your lips in another desperate kiss as he worked you open, his fingers moving in slow, deliberate strokes.

The car windows were completely fogged now, the space thick with the sound of your heavy breaths, your moans, the slick slide of skin against skin.

And then, just as you were teetering on the edge, he pulled away. His hands suddenly gripping your hips as he pushed you back against the seat, his eyes dark with hunger.

“I need to be inside you,” he rasped.

You didn’t hesitate.

You lifted your hips, shoving your jeans down just enough, and Spencer did the same, his movements frantic, desperate.

And then - God, then - he was there, his tip pressing against you, his breathing ragged.

“Tell me you want this,” he pleaded, his voice barely more than a whisper.

You cupped his face, brushing your lips over his. “I need this, Spencer.”

That was all it took.

The second Spencer thrust inside you, a ragged groan tore from his lips, his forehead dropping against yours.

“Fuck,” he hissed, his fingers gripping your hips, nails digging in like he was afraid you’d disappear. “You’re so - Jesus, you’re tight.”

Your body clenched around him at the filth in his voice, at the way his words were completely wrecked, breathless. He was already losing it, and you’d barely even started.

“You like that, baby?” you murmured, voice thick with your accent, teasing as you rolled your hips up against him. “Like how good I feel wrapped around you?”

Spencer groaned, his hands flexing against your skin. “Yes—I can’t—God, I can’t even think.”

“Then don’t,” you whispered, reaching up to tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging just hard enough to make him whimper. “Just fuck me, sugar.”

And he did.

He pulled back and slammed into you, deep and hard, the force of it knocking the breath from your lungs.

“Fuck, Spencer --”

The words barely left your lips before he set a brutal pace, thrusting into you again and again, deep enough that you could feel every inch of him stretching you open, filling you to the point of pure blissful pain.

“You feel so fucking good,” he groaned, his voice rough and shaking as his hips snapped against yours. " I need to feel more.”

His hands roamed your body, greedy, desperate, palming your breasts, rolling your nipples between his fingers until you cried out.

“Spence --”

He swallowed your moan with a bruising kiss, his tongue sliding against yours as he fucked into you harder, faster, like he couldn’t get close enough, like he needed to own you completely.

“You’re so fucking wet for me,” he panted against your lips, his voice thick with lust. “You like this, don’t you? You like letting me take you like this?”

“Yesyes, baby, don’t stop..”

He growled, his teeth scraping against your jaw, down your neck, sucking hard enough to leave marks.

His fingers found your clit, circling it just right, making you arch against him, nails clawing at his back.

“That’s it,” he groaned, watching you unravel beneath him, his pace turning even more frantic. “Fuck, you’re so perfect, I wanna feel you come all over my cock.”

Your whole body tightened at his words, the filth of them pushing you even closer to the edge.

His thrusts turned brutal, deep, each one hitting that perfect spot inside you, over and over, dragging you closer and closer to pure bliss.

“Spencer, oh my God..”

“Cum for me, baby,” he groaned, his fingers pressing against your clit just right, his cock hitting deep, his breath hot against your skin. “I wanna feel it, I need to feel you fall apart for me.”

And you did.

Your whole body clenched, your back arching as you screamed his name, pleasure crashing through you in wave after wave.

Spencer cursed, his hips stuttering, his grip on you bruising as he followed, a wrecked moan leaving his lips as he buried himself deep inside you. His whole body shaking as he came hard, spilling into you with a groan that was damn near filthy.

For a long moment, the only sound was your heavy breathing, the quiet hum of the city outside.

Spencer’s forehead dropped to your shoulder, his body still trembling from the force of his orgasm. Then he let out a breathless, wrecked laugh, pressing lazy, open-mouthed kisses against your damp skin.

“Well,” he murmured, still catching his breath, “that was… insane.”

You smirked, running your fingers through his sweat-damp curls. “That was just the first round, sugar.”

Spencer groaned, already hardening again inside you.

“Oh, fuck.”

Spencer’s chest was rising and falling rapidly as he pressed his forehead against yours, barely able to keep his hands still as he traced patterns down your back. But you weren’t done yet. Not even close.

Without warning, you flipped yourself around, swift and confident. Spencer's eyes widened as he realized what you were doing, and before he could process it, you had already positioned yourself over him, your knees on either side of his hips. His hands instinctively grabbed your waist, his fingers digging into your skin.

“God, you’re perfect,” he groaned, his voice raw, desperate. He could barely take his eyes off your body as you lowered yourself slowly onto his still-hardening cock, the slow stretch sending waves of pleasure through both of you.

You could feel every inch of him filling you, stretching you out and the tightness in your chest twisted with desire as you began to ride him slowly at first. The feeling of control was intoxicating, and you moved deliberately, savoring every moment.

Spencer’s hands couldn’t stay still again. One hand slid up to cup your breast, his thumb rubbing over your nipple, making you gasp in pleasure. The other hand trailed down, gripping your hips as he pulled you closer, helping you move faster, deeper.

“Fuck, you feel so damn good,” Spencer moaned, his eyes glued to your body as you rocked against him, your breath coming in shaky gasps. “You’re gonna make me lose it again…”

You responded by grinding harder, faster, desperate for the release that was building between you. Spencer’s hand tightened around your breast, his fingers pinching and pulling your nipples, drawing out soft moans from you. You couldn’t hold back anymore, your body trembling as the pressure in your core built.

“Spencer, I - oh God - I’m close,” you breathed, your movements becoming more frantic as you chased that release, that perfect feeling of completion.

“Me too,” he rasped, his voice so strained with lust that it made your whole body ache. “I want to feel you come all over me. Do it, baby. Let go…”

You did.

With one final, desperate movement, your body exploded in pleasure, your orgasm hitting you like a tidal wave. You gasped his name, gripping onto him as the waves of ecstasy swept through you. Spencer wasn’t far behind, thrusting up into you as his own release finally overtook him. His hands were gripping your hips so tightly it left marks, pulling you down against him, ensuring every inch of him stayed buried deep inside as he came with a groan.

You both collapsed against each other, sweaty and breathless, your chest heaving as you caught your breath. The only sound in the car was the rhythm of your heavy breathing. Slowly, you lifted yourself off him, a satisfied moan slipping from your lips as his softened cock slid out of you.

You both just stared at each other for a moment, the air between you thick with tension and satisfaction. A small trickle of his cum dripped from you, slowly running down his cock as you both took in the aftermath. Spencer’s hands were still on your body, unable to let go, even now.

“Holy fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his lips still swollen from your kisses.

You grinned down at him, wiping away a bit of the mess from your thighs with a teasing finger. “Yeah. That was perfect.”

Spencer’s grin grew, though his eyes still burned with want. “You’re dangerous, you know that?” he said softly.

After everything, the both of you sat there for a moment, catching your breath, the cool night air gently brushing against your skin. Spencer’s hand was still resting on your thigh, his fingertips lightly tracing over the sensitive skin, the aftermath of what had just happened still hanging heavily in the air between you.

With a deep sigh, you slowly pulled yourself off of him, your body still tingling with the aftershocks of your release. Spencer watched you, his eyes dark and full of desire, as you reached for your clothes, grabbing your top off the floor. He followed suit, his motions slow but deliberate, as if he were savoring every second of this.

He didn’t break eye contact as he began buttoning his shirt back up, his fingers working with practiced ease, but you noticed the faint tremor in his hands, the evidence of how much you had completely undone him.

You did the same, pulling on your jeans with a quiet hum, your movements deliberate as you slowly dressed, taking your time. There was something undeniably intimate about the way you both silently communicated with every motion, the connection between you thick and palpable.

Once you were both dressed, Spencer ran a hand through his tousled hair, sighing as he leaned against the car. “I—uh, I’m really not ready for this night to end,” he said softly, his voice still low with the remnants of desire.

You stepped closer, your body brushing against his as you reached up to adjust his collar, your fingers lingering on his skin. “Then it doesn’t have to,” you whispered, lips close to his, the warmth of your breath mingling with his.

His gaze softened, his lips barely a whisper from yours as he cupped your face in his hands, eyes searching yours with something deeper than just lust. “Next time, we’ll go out—dinner, drinks, something nice. I’ll take you on a real date. I promise.”

Your lips quirked upward into a teasing smile as you reached up, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. It was soft, lingering, as if the promise of what could come next hung in the air between you both.

“You better keep that promise, Reid,” you murmured against his lips. “Or next time, I’ll make you regret it.”

He grinned, eyes still glimmering with desire as he kissed you once more, deeper this time, a soft growl rising in his chest. “I’m counting on it,” he whispered back before pulling away slightly.

He hesitated for a moment, as if unsure whether to walk away or pull you back in for more, before he finally let out a breath. “Goodnight,” he said, his voice almost a plea for just a little more, a touch more.

You heard his plea in his voice and smiled softly, moving closer to him again. "Come home with me?"

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Look, Don't Touch 2

Warnings: this fic includes noncon/rape, stalking, breaking and entering, possible blood and violence, and femcel energy. Tags are not exhaustive and more may be added as the series progresses.

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

Summary: You get bored of watching and that makes you careless. (dark!reader)

Characters: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes

Note: Well, well, well, if it isn’t another bad decision.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like snakes love Woody’s boots. Take care. 💖

Your hands are bound behind you, the belt looped through the bars of the wooden chair. Your stomach bubbles uneasily as you watch Bucky paw through your bag. This isn’t happening. How the fuck did you get here? He wasn’t supposed to show up! 

He throws your bag down as he holds your phone. He nears and turns the screen to face you. He waits and checks it. You don’t use facial recognition, the piece of shit’s too cheap to have that feature. He sighs. 

“What’s your code?” he asks. 

“Fuck off,” you snarl. 

His gloved hand balls and he grits his teeth, “don’t make this–” 

You kick out and your heel meets his crotch, his legs folding as he slips to one knee. He inhales with a gristle as he grips his thigh, barely keeping a hold on your phone. He clears his throat and stands. He slams the phone on the table and stomps out. 

You laugh but not for long. He’s back with duct tape. He tapes your legs to the chair and winds several layers around your waist. You shake your head and curl your lip. 

“Look, dude, it’s really not that deep,” you say, “it’s a grift. I squat. Just when people are out of town. I don’t take nothing and I leave everything as it was–” 

“You’re lying,” he taps your phone as he frowns, “and you can keep playing wise but I will figure you out.” He grins, “bingo.” 

He waves your phone, your wallpaper confirming it’s unlocked. You roll your eyes. 

“You should call the police,” you say. 

“So you can lie your way out of this? No thanks,” he swipes as he puts his hand on his hip and turns away. He stops pacing and brings the phone closer to his face. He grimaces, “you're a sick bitch, aren’t you?” 

He tuts and shows you the image of Steve fucking his one night stand. You laugh. “Me? What about your friend?” 

“I’d say the fact you recorded it is a lot more fucked up than him having a bit of fun,” he snorts, “you’re sly. I saw your equipment.” 

“Thanks,” you say smartly. 

“You’re not making this easy on yourself,” he says. 

“Well, you got your evidence so… police?” you divert. 

“You know what the police do to stalkers? Nothing,” he sneers. 

“Stalker? I told you, I’m a squatter–” 

“Enough with that,” he points at you sharply and goes back to scrolling, “hmm,” he hums then says your name aloud, grinning up at you. 

“So.. if no cops, what are you going to do?” you finally let yourself ask. 

“I know how to handle things internally,” he says, “so don’t you worry.” 

“Are you going to call Steve?” 

“Steve?” he scoffs, “you speak as if you know him. You don’t know shit. And no, got a lot more things more important than you.” He runs his gloved fingers over his stubble as the dimple in his chin deepens, “I gotta do some running around.” 

“I thought you were here to water the plants,” you taunt. 

“The ferns can wait,” he says, “you just sit pretty and I’ll be back soon.” 

He tucks your phone in his jacket and grabs his keys from where he dropped them on the table. He disappears into the hall and you heave. Well, what the fuck do you do now? 

The door snaps shut, the beep of the security system follows, and you’re left in silence. You look around the open dining room, the kitchen visible just through the next doorway. You pull at your hands, the belt digging into your wrists. You wriggle, the chair wobbling, as you try to twist your ankles free. 

You grunt in frustration as helplessness floods your chest. The chair tilts forward and you panic, swing back too hard and tip it over completely. Your head hits the floor above the back and it leaves you dizzy as you blink away stars. 

“Shittttttt!” you yell at the ceiling. 

📷

Bucky finds you on the floor. He does nothing to help as you crane to watch him. He puts down a black bag before he nears. He stands by the legs of the chair and kicks the bottom of the seat with his boot. 

“Bored?” he teases, “restless, maybe?” 

“I need to piss,” you huff, not a full out lie. 

“You can wait,” he leaves you there and you listen to his footfalls in dread. The whisper of the zipper as he stops. The rustle of unseen objects, pages flipping as his sole squeaks. 

‘I saw him again today,’ Bucky begins, ‘but he didn’t see me. He never does. I wonder how. Maybe I’m just that invisible.  

But I see him. I see everything he does. Even when he’s not there, I can’t stop. I think about him all the time. Sometimes I pretend my toys are him. Touching me, though I know he never will–” 

“Stop,” you growl, “now.” 

‘It used to be that I’d imagine anyone. Any man touching me, but now the thought of anyone else disgusts me.’ 

You’re quiet, humiliated. More angry than anything. You want to strangle him. You want to smack the smug look off your face you imagine in tandem with his mocking tone.  

“Stop,” you say again, “you think I don’t know what I am. Obviously, I know. I’m stupid enough to write it down.” 

He laughs and you hear the journal hit the table. He strides around the chair and stands beside you. He watches you, squats to look you in the face. 

“No, I don’t think you realise how fucking sad you are,” he says, “how pathetic.” 

“You think you’re the first to tell me,” you sneer, “I know, asshole. But I never hurt anyone and wasn’t going to start. I just watch–” 

“Break and enter as well, huh?” He smirks, “I mean, you can tell a lot about a person by where they live. Found out a hell of a lot about you, doll.” 

“Don’t call me that,” you hiss. 

“Small place,” he stands, “cramped. Guess a rat like you doesn’t need much. Couple packs of ramen and a bottle of vodka. I had better rations in 1944.” 

“What about Hydra? They feed you well?” you retort. He’s silent. “Hit a soft spot? I’m sure a cyborg like you didn’t need much.” 

He kicks the chair and it jolts you. It’s your turn to laugh. He puts his foot on the crossbar and swings you back up to four feet. You teeter but stay upright, chafing in your bonds. 

“You really are that stupid, aren’t you?” he chides. 

You shrug and glance at the wall, “I really do need to piss.” 

“You think you’re going to get out of this one?” he asks. 

“I just want to go to the–” 

“I’m not worried about you making a run for it, doll,” he leans against the table and slides a thumb in his pocket, “I mean, what do you think is going to happen here? You think I’m gonna give you a lecture and let you walk?” 

“Haven’t thought about it really,” you say flippantly, “guess I assumed you’d revert a little. Clean up the problem the way you used to do when you had that red star stamped on ya–” 

Suddenly, he’s in front of you. His hand is on your throat as he bends to snarl, “shut your fucking mouth or I’m gonna break it.” 

You grin as you choke down air and make a show of clamping your lips together. You raise your brows and he stiffly rescinds his hand. He rounds the chair and tears through the tape before unbuckling the belt. Your arms fall loose but he grabs you by the back of your neck, pinching so you cry out and claw at his hand. 

“I squeeze any tighter and I’ll do some real damage,” he warns as he guides you to your feet, “then you won’t be running anywhere ever again. Got it?” 

“Sure,” you grit out as pain ripples down your spine. 

He grunts and urges you into the front room and down the hall. He enters the bathroom with you and flips up the seat. He releases you and takes a step back, a hand on the counter as he stares. 

“Um, a bit of privacy?” 

“You go now or not at all,” he demands, “so…” 

You exhale sharply and turn, unbuttoning your pants as you focus on the wall. You push your jeans down and sit, a slight pause before you manage to trickle out just a little. Your bladder releases and the pressure relents, leaving you lighter but not relieved. You wipe, pull your jeans up as you stand, and flush. 

He grabs your arm and yanks you back into the hallway. His metal grip makes your muscles burn as he drags you on. You glance across the front room, the doors not that far.  

You push your toe under the carpet so it catches and you stumble, pulling him back with your unexpected falter. “Hey, stay on your f–” 

You stomp his toe and he recoils as he grunts. You spin awkwardly, barely staying up right as you scramble away. You knock over the tall vase by the doorway as you flee. He tackles you from behind and you plummet forward, hitting the floor as he lands on you. You wheeze as your ribs ache beneath his weight. 

“Jesus, you’re fuckin��� heavy,” you snarl into the hardwood. 

“And you’re fucking stubborn,” he raps his knuckles on the back of your skull as he pushes off you. He plants his feet on either side of you and lifts you, both hands on your arms as he steadies you, “stupid, too.” 

You scoff as he urges you back down the hall and shoves you through to the dining room. His hand crawls up to your neck and he bends you over the table. You growl and kick out your feet as you pick at his impenetrable grip. 

“Like I said, had some running around to do,” he reaches into his bag with his free hand, “got some things to keep you in line.” 

He circles his fingers around your wrist and a metal cuff expands around it. Then he does the same to the other. He lets go of you and steps back. You straighten as he takes out his phone and taps the screen, your wrists snap together behind you, as if magnetised. You struggle as the force sets you off kilter. 

“Neat little gadget, usually reserved for sinister individuals but they’ll do for you too,” he frames your shoulders and angles you around, urging you back into the chair, “since you want to make this interesting.” 

You scowl and say nothing. He really is annoying. He goes back to his bag and reaches in again. He returns to you and secures another pair of cuffs around your ankles. You try to kick out as he does and he squeezes your leg meanly. You snarl and sit back angrily.  

He pushes a pin into each leg of the chair and stands. He picks up his phone again and your ankles attach to the wooden legs. He rounds you and parts your wrists, pulling them between the bars and letting them snap back together behind them. 

“We’re gonna be here a while and I’m not in the mood to be chasing you around,” he goes to the table and sets his phone down. 

He peels off his jacket and drapes it over another chair. He sits and retrieves the cell, his thumb moving lazily across it as he ignores you. You furrow your brow. There’s no give in the restraints. 

“Not exactly how I wanted to spend my night,” he grumbles as he smirks at you, “not that I had any plans.” 

“No plans? A gem like you? How are the girls not lining up?” you roll your eyes. 

“You’re one to talk, aren’t you?” he scoffs. 

You shrug and sit back. You’re starting to feel the toll of the night; stuck in that chair, pinned under his weight, the knock to your head. You’re tired but you can’t let him see it. 

📷

The smell of food makes your stomach growl. You can’t remember the last time you ate. It’s a bad habit. You eat only when it hurts and it fucking hurts. 

Bucky sits at the table with his paper bag and cup and eagerly peers inside. You try not to stare, instead focusing on your lap. You salivate as your guts knot with temptation. You listen to the rustle of wrappers and Bucky moans as he takes his first bite, chewing loudly. 

You exhale through tight lips. It’s deliberate, you know it. It’s his specialty, isn’t it? Torture? Cruelty? You peek up from beneath your lashes as he scarfs down a mouthful of fries. 

“Oh, you know what,” he sits back and grabs a napkin, wiping his fingertips, “I didn’t even think. I should’ve ordered you some. You must be starving.” 

“I’m fine,” you insist as you drop your gaze and your stomach rumbles loudly. 

“Sounds like it,” he slurps from his cup, “we’re all human, so if you’re hungry, all you gotta do is ask nicely–” 

“Human? You?” you look at his left arm, concealed under his henley and gloves, “sure. I told you, not hungry.” 

“Alright,” he grabs the burger and takes another sloppy bite. You turn your face away and ignore the pangs deep in your gut. “You really should consider a bit of common decency,” he says through a mouthful, “make it easy on yourself.” 

“Why’s that?” you mutter, shoulders sore from the awkward position as you try not to lean back on your arms. 

“I don’t have to be an asshole,” he says. 

“Really? You have more than one mode?” you snip. 

“What do you think’s gonna happen when Steve gets here?” he asks and shoves the last bit of his burger in his mouth. He watches you as he chews. 

“Does it matter? What I think or what happens?” you glower, staring at the faded denim of your jeans. “You saw my apartment, you think I have much to lose?” 

“You’re alive,” he ventures. 

“If that’s what you call it,” you laugh darkly, “so, that’s it? He’s gonna kill me? You lost your spine or something?” 

“You’re pretty self-aware for someone so pathetic,” he remarks as he shovels up more fries. 

“My sole virtue,” you say mockingly, “at least I know what I am.” 

“Do you? Do you really understand how fucked in the head you are?” 

“I should ask you the same,” you counter. 

He laughs and scoops up some more fries, “right, well, these next few days are going to be fun.” 

He stands and cleans up the garbage, shoving it all into the paper bag. He crumples it as he goes into the kitchen and you hear the lid of the bin as he tosses it. The light flicks off as he returns and he nears you. You sit rigidly as he grabs the back of the chair and tilts it back. 

He drags you out of the dining room and into the living room without a word. He shoves the coffee table over with his foot and puts you right in front of the couch. He lets the chair fall to four feet and strides away. 

You watch him as he makes up the couch with a sheet tucked around the cushions, a pillow against the arm, and a blanket on top. He pushes his head to one side than the other, a loud crack releases the tension. He sits and unties his boots, sliding them off as he focuses on the task. 

He strips down to his briefs and undershirt, as if you’re not even there. He settles onto the couch with a sigh, a bit too big for it but unbothered by that fact. He shifts as he plays with his phone and a voice suddenly rises from the speaker. He puts it on the back of the couch and lets it play, some narrative of a forgotten battle. He folds his arms behind his head and sighs. 

“Helps me sleep,” he smirks as he closes his eyes, “might help you too… if you can get comfortable.” 

[bloodlineslut]

Hi can you do a Roman reigns text scene where oc gets home late from the club and Roman is up waiting and she’s in a provocative outfit 🩷

Up Waiting | Roman Reigns

Pairings: Roman Reigns x black! reader

Warnings: fluff, Roman taking care of slightly drunk girlfriend

Summary: You stayed out a bit past the time you told Roman you would be home, so he texts you, and when you get home, he takes care of you and notices the sexy outfit you wore to the club.

Word Count: 637 (this is a drabble)

A/N: thank you to whoever requested this, it was a cute little idea!!

You had sobered up a little by the time the Uber Black Escalade had come to a stop in front of you and Roman’s house.

You fumbled in the dark car’s backseat, searching for your purse and giggling. “Girl, you are such a lightweight! One drinkkkk, mm mm mm.” Your girl friends, Naomi and Cameron were laughing and giggling too.

“Yea yea, shut up alcoholics,” You tease them back.

Naomi saw one of the lights in the living room turn on through the curtains. “Ooh girl Roman is up, you better get yo’ ass in there!” She opens the car door for you.

“Girl he ain’t my dad!” You look back over your shoulder with an eyebrow raised, trying to be stern, but all three of you ended up laughing again. This Uber driver is probably never going to pick ya’ll up again.

“He might as well be, you call him Daddy!” Ariane chimes in as she twerks in the car seat, knowing that you told them a long time ago that Roman likes when you twerk on him.

Your hands cover your mouth as you playfully scream and finally step out of the SUV. “Girl bye!! Love you guys!” You blow them kisses and they do the same to you.

As you walk up the driveway in your black pumps, you were still on cloud nine thinking of the night you had with your girls. It was always a good time with them.

Before you could even put your key in the door, it swung open and there stood your man in nothing but some grey sweatpants and his glasses.

“Baby, get in here.” His hand grabbed yours, closing and locking the front door, and leading you into the kitchen.

“Sit down.” He points to one of the barstools at the counter and you obediently oblige.

You couldn’t help but look at him fixing you a nice cold glass of water before pouring some electrolyte powder in it and swirling it around.

“Drink this. All of it, princess. You know I was worried about y-” His words cut off as he actually got a look at your outfit you wore tonight.

It was an all red one-piece short set with long sleeves that had fur on the wrists, but your ass was swallowing the shorts. At least you had on tights…

“Baby stand up real quick.” You stand up after taking a long sip of the water-electrolyte combination.

Still having a little liquid courage in your system, you slowly turn around, giving him a full 360 of everything. “Isn’t this so cute?” You say, looking down at how the ensemble hugged your curves in all the right places.

“If I had known this is what you wore, I would’ve got home a little earlier…” His large hands trailed from your waist to grab two handfuls of your plump cheeks.

“Ooh! Sir, I don’t know you like that.” You play coy, teasing him, getting him riled up. Your hands were now on his naked, firm chest.

Roman’s bottom lip was captured by his teeth as he looked down at you with nothing but hunger.

He suddenly bent down, wrapping his strong and chiseled arms around your thighs to raise you up over his shoulder, your ass now in the air.

“Damn babe!” You yelp out, seeing nothing but his back and his ass that you liked to grab every now and then, so you let your intrusive thoughts win.

You felt him clench slightly. “Aye, watch out babygirl.” He warns before landing a soft but dominating slap on your ass.

“I gotta put your ass to bed..” He sighs out, slowly shaking his head and walking to your shared master bedroom, knowing he would probably melt at your naughty advances if you even attempt to tonight.

The end.

[fear-is-truth]

okay hear me out. a fic where kit is rough. i know he’s usually a softie but he has to take his anger out on something right. and i know that boy is angry.

mature content; MDNI 18+

jackie’s note: ah yes. being railed by your husband, housewife style over the counter

you know it the second your husband steps through the door. you don’t even get a chance to ask what happened. he’s on you before you can speak—grabbing your wrist, yanking you in, spinning you around until your chest is flush against the table. his hands are rough, calloused, his grip bruising as he shoves your hips back against his.

he’s already hard. already straining against his jeans.

“kit—”

“shut up,” he breathes, pressing his forehead between your shoulder blades, voice tight. “just—shut up. need this.”

need you.

his hands push under your shirt, dragging over your ribs, squeezing at your waist before yanking your skirt down in one rough motion. he doesn’t waste time, doesn’t prep you like he usually does—just spits on his fingers, slicks himself up, and pushes in all at once.

it knocks the breath out of you. makes you whimper, fingers scrambling for something to hold onto.

he’s rough. mean, even. his thrusts are deep, punishing, hips snapping into yours hard enough to bruise.

“fuckin’—shit,” he grits out, panting against your skin. “just had to deal with the biggest goddamn asshole. some dumbfuck at the station—” his hand slides up, wraps around the front of your throat, tilts your head back so his lips brush your ear. “—but it’s fine, yeah? ‘cause i got you. always got you, don’t i?”

you can’t even speak. just nod, gasping when his teeth scrape against your neck. he fucks all the anger out of his system, drains every last bit of frustration into you. only slows down when he’s close, when his hips start to stutter and he presses in deep, cursing under his breath as he spills inside you.

kit stays like that for a second. hands still gripping you tight. chest heaving against your back.

and then, finally, the tension unspools from his body. his hands go soft, smoothing over your skin, tracing over the marks he left.

“shit,” he murmurs. “m’sorry, sweetheart. didn’t mean to—” you turn around, breathless, eyes lidded. he looks at you like he doesn’t deserve you. like he doesn’t know why you’re still letting him touch you.

but you just smile, reaching up to brush his damp hair back.

“feel better?”

his lips twitch. just barely. and then he sighs, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“yeah. now let’s get you cleaned up”

 fear-is-truth 2025 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[sillier-than-thou]

I’m not nearly good enough at drawing to be able to make animatics, but the editor in me keeps coming up with ideas for tma animatics and I need to get some of them out of my system, so I made a list (spoilers for tma obviously):

•Mikaele Salesa in season 5 to Private Life by Oingo Boingo. “Here in my humble room at night / I often wonder what goes on out there / what makes them run so scared. / I often stare at the people passing by / but they can’t see me through my window shades. / Just like I’m not even there!”

•Robert Smirke to Man-Made Object by Lemon Demon. “I have a vision of a man-made object / I have the money, I have the means / I have the strangest dreams!”

•Michael the Distortion to The Afternoon by Lemon Demon. “In the attic of this house / on the wall behind a propped up couch / is a door that somehow leads into / the basement of this house??”

•Jan Kilbride in MAG 106 to Falling Up by Will Wood. “Here comes the sun, am I falling up? /FAAALLING UUUUUUUUUP! / Here comes the sun, am I falling up? / FAAALLING UUUUUUUUUP! / Here comes the sun, am I falling up?” (Because in his statement he literally goes “I could feel myself falling up” lmao)

•Dr. David in MAG 177 to A Mask of My Own Face by Lemon Demon. “At all the people hissing, knowing I’m the one they hate / and at the big finale I would tear my face away / and smile as they grip their own and try to do the same!”

•Jonathan Sims and Martin Blackwood in season 5 to Aurora Borealis by Lemon Demon. “So, let’s take the night off! / Be joyful and joyously enjoy the moonrise / and let it destroy us. / See, it’s okay / as long as we believe we’ll be okay / as if anything could go wrong on Christmas Eve! / Okay, you know I’m glad you’re here / so I can show you this before I disappear. / Is this the first time that you’ve ever seen Aurora Borealis crush mankind? / A flashlight underneath my chin / a pretty winter night / your hand in mine.”

•Elias Bouchard talking to Jon Sims in season 3 to BlackBoxWarrior by Will Wood. “You’ve lost your mind and almost lost your life before / so you’ll be fine! / For what? For what? For what it’s worth / if it was going to kill you, boy it would have by now! / For what? For what? For what it’s worth / there’s no more looking back, and why would you want to look back? / I mean, it’s no good looking back, so time to look forward now! / For what? For what? For what it’s worth / if they were going to get you boy, they would have by now! / For what? For what? For what it’s worth / there’s no more looking back, it’s looking up or looking doooooooown!”

•Jonah Magnus throughout his entire existence (but especially season 5) plus Jon killing him in MAG 200 to No One Lives Forever by Oingo Boingo. “Let’s have a party, there’s a full moon eye in the sky / it’s the hour age of the wolf beholding, and I don’t wanna die! / I’m so happy, dancing while the grim reaper / cuts, cuts, cuts, but he can’t get me! / I’m as clever as can be, and I’m very quick / but don’t forget we’ve only got so many tricks. / No one lives forever!”

•Jonathan Sims (especially in season 4 and 5) to Laplace’s Angel by Will Wood. “We’ve all got evidence of innocence, it’s ‘everything’s coincidence’. / The difference twixt fate and free will is whether you’re singing / Ooh, could you take a look at me? / Am I bad, am I bad, am I bad, am I really that bad? / And now we’re singing, ooh / whatever you think of me / if you were in my shoes / you’d walk the same damn miles I do!”

•The Archivist™️ in season 5 to The Passenger by Siouxsie and The Banshees. “Oh, the passenger. / Oh, how he rides! / Oh, the passenger. / He rides and rides! / He looks through his window. / What does he see? / He sees the sign and hollow sky / he sees the stars come out tonight / he sees the city’s ripped backsides / he sees the winding ocean drive. / And everything was made for you and me! / All of it was made for you and me! / ‘Cause it just belongs to you and me! / So let’s take a ride and see what’s mine!”

•Jonathan Sims in season 3 and 4 to Cotard’s Solution by Will Wood and The Tapeworms. “Cry my name, remind my brain of my identity! / I’m not gonna listen, I’m not my volition / I’m sha na na na na na free-will! / Am I to blame for riding this train right by my destiny? / Ah, prove I can crack, ah, loose from the track, ah! / Sha na na na na na free-will!”

So, if anyone on here likes to make animatics, could these ideas maybe possibly perhaps hypothetically be fun to do? :333 I’m probably going to add way more songs to this as time goes on!

[saturnzskyzz]

How about an arcane fic? Saw your hc about Jinx being the tickle monster for Sevika and Isha. So maybe a fic where Jinx being a little shit and tickle attacks both Isha and Sevika all throughout the day till they both finally get enough of Jinx’s shit. So Isha and Sevika team together to get their revenge. You can either focus on the revenge or Jinx’s tickle monster tendencies beforehand, yk whatever fits u most :))

𝐴 𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑘𝑙𝑒 ��𝑜𝑛𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑓𝑎𝑖𝑟 𝑠ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑡𝑜𝑜

(I know, such a unique title, thank you, thank you! *bows*)

Word Count: 2,206

A/N: AAAH THANK YOU!!!! 🙏🙏🙏 you were my first request so I couldn't just.. NOT spoil you! Thank you for the request, YOU WERE A LIFE SAVOR!!!

(Happy tickle day!)

Arcane divider

Loud, booming music could be heard from inside the hide-out that Jinx stores herself away at for hours on end: listening to music with a cheeky grin, making some gadgets that really should be held off for later activities. she bobbed her head back and forth to the music as she sinks her mind further into the depths of her own little world.

The way she would describe her day would be just dandy and fun! Such a normal day to be normal and hide-away in her very normal thoughts making very normal gadgets for normal activities like making a scene for piltover to annoy the newspapers once again for the third time this week. But that wasn't the case. She was an absolute nuisance today. Both with Isha and Sevika.

Ever since Isha came into her life, and then gradually appeared in Sevika’s as well, Jinx has been different for the better. She's been more friendly, and gentle with Isha and is even like that with Sevika like she was her own blood. Unfortunately however, that also takes a turn for the two with how Jinx has been acting towards them. Ever since Jinx discovered that Isha was ticklish, which resulted in her thoughts to think that Sevika was also ticklish, she has been poking and tasering both of their sides the whole day when any chance seemed to fit.

It was like a new discovery that Jinx just had to give it her all to embarrass the both of them. It embarrassed Isha and got her to be in a giggle fit through-out the day, while Jinx’s schemes ruined a part of Sevika’s ego. She was entertained by it; she was a sucker for both of their reactions when they least expected it. The squeak that Isha would unleash would be endearing and cute to Jinx for her to do it more, and Sevika’s uncharacterized squeal and snorts would have Jinx howl in laughter as she quickly leaves the scene; leaving Sevika to ponder in silence in annoyance.

They just had to get her back for it. Make her take what she can't dish out.

Sevika thought of the idea first, and then brought it up with Isha who reluctantly agreed to help out. They thought of a quick plan to get her when she least expected it, and they had to do it fast! With shimmer running through her system, it might be a stretch, but they could do it!

After they finished exchanging their thoughts, they left their little meeting room where Silco used to take charge of, and stormed off to Jinx’s Hideout. It just had to work.

Now comes the loud music again with Jinx jamming to it like any other ordinary normal day. Oh, she's getting it now. Sevika alerted Isha to go hide where they talked about, and walked up to Jinx to calmly get her attention so Isha could hide with no disturbances or possible acknowledgement from Jinx.

“Jinx, we need to talk." Sevika said, putting her hand on Jinx’s shoulder to warp her out of her trance with the music. She turned on her heel while on her chair, and took her goggles off to look at Sevika with that same grin that had been plastered on her face the entire day.

“What’s up, buttercup! You've missed me??" she said, wiggling her fingers at Sevika for only a brief second before Sevika swallowed down her shivers, and shoved her hands away from her sight.

“It's Isha." Sevika announced, seeing that shit eating grin turn to an overprotective and concerned frown.

“It's not bad, don't worry. She's just.. We're playing hide-and-seek and this is the only place I haven't found her in, do you have any idea where she is?" Sevika exclaimed, kind of burning her ego even more by the fact that Jinx now thinks that she's actually playing hide-and-seek with a child rather than doing other things.

“Wohow.. The intimidating, council-wannabe is actually playing a silly little game with Isha? A child? That's hilarious! ” Jinx chuckled at the overlapping thought of the big and bad Sevika playing a child's game.

"You know more of where she would hide than I do- do you want to help find her, or not?” Gosh, how annoying? Sevika thought. She knew that Jinx would back talk and make fun of the silly concept, but jeez!

"Yeah, yeah, calm your tits. I'll help find her. I know all the nooks and crannies of where she would hide! ISN'T THAT RIGHT, ISHA??” Jinx yelled out for Isha to hear. Resulting with her covering her mouth to not stifle a laugh.

Unfortunately for the both of them-Jinx had thought initially- she turns to look at the one hiding spot that Isha always goes for when she couldn't think of anywhere else to hide in the Hideout, and looks to Sevika before giving her a wide smile and a wink before proceeding to approach said spot.

Swaying her body from side to side while walking, she chants, “oh Ishaaa! Where could you possibly hide?? I wonder." She grins, getting closer and closer to her hiding spot. Isha could see Jinx, and Jinx could see Isha. They were locking eyes while Isha was still stifling a laugh. What Jinx didn't know was the big arm going around her neck(not rough) to pull her away and carefully sit her on the floor for her to struggle out of the hold.

The evil grin turned into panic, almost forgetting that Sevika was also here trying to look for Isha. She turned her head to look at her briefly before whipping her head back around to see Isha hop out of her hiding spot with a cheeky smile.

“Ohokay, reeeally funny you two, you can let me up now." Jinx said, nervously. She had cursed at herself for letting her guard down so easily. Stupid, It's sevika. Of course she's got something up her Sleeve with child's play.

“I'd let you up on one condition. You take what you can dish out." Sevika said in a low, intimidating voice that secretly always sent shivers down Jinx’s spine.

“Lihike I know what THAT means. You're on your own, sister. Isha, get her off of me.” She nodded her head to Isha, indicating for some help from the younger, but that didn't happen. Isha kept looking at her with that cheeky smile.

“Now?" Isha signed over to Sevika, and all she gave her was a knod. Relishing Isha to go straight for Jinx’s sides out of nowhere because of Jinx’s blind eye. It'd be a pretty damn good time to have a third eye, right?

Scribbling lightly, this shocked Jinx to scrunch up her face weirdly, and did everything she could to keep her unwanted giggles at bay, biting her lower lip to keep them down.

Instantly, an impatient chuckle came out of Sevika’s mouth. “You're really doing that? C’mon, kid. You stand no chance. Sooner or later you'll be breaking pretty soon." she said next to Jinx’s ear, causing the shorter to scrunch away, embarrassingly.

C’mon Jinx, you got this! This impatient bitch just needs to be bored, and then she'll let you go, simple!

Is what she initially thought, before Sevika got too confident with her impatience, and went straight for her armpits, relishing a sharp squeal that Jinx would rather take to her own grave than admitting anything. Quick giggles came out of her mouth. They were goofy, and uncoordinated, but it brought a smile to both Isha and Sevika. (Sevika would take that smile to her grave also)

"Well, what do you know? The master criminal with weird lookin’ pants can laugh after all?” Sevika said, looking at Isha who was still glued to her sides. All she gave was a satisfying Huff, and continued the onslaught.

“FUHUHuhuck thahat ehenforcer!” Jinx said before dissolving in more of her giggles.

It's been such a long time since she's had a proper tickle fight with her being on the receiving end that she almost forgot how much fun it was. Letting loose and bringing out the real her was so rare, even for Jinx, that it became almost like a dream to her, like it wasn't actually real. Anytime she got ganged up on was her little group with her sister. They all knew how much she loved it just to laugh with them and have a good time. But this is Isha and Sevika who's replacing that memory. It almost felt wrong to have them replaced, but she also knew that she desperately needed this. She would never admit that though.

“Ohohokay, OHOHOKAY!! Ihihi’m lahahaughing, nohow stop!" she squirmed even more to emphasize her words.

“Hmm.. Not quite yet, I don't think you’ve learned your lesson on picking on us all day, huh Isha?" Sevika asked her once again for an agreement.

“Hmm!” Isha agreed, finally moving her hands to Jinx’s stomach. This caused a small snort from the master criminal, who then covered her mouth when realizing what she just blurted out of her mouth. A light pink hue showing her features due to embarrassment.

“Ha! I never knew you could snort, kid. Isha, how about you stay at that spot?" with a nod, Isha reluctantly stayed put in her designated spot, making Jinx go insane with the feeling. She had almost forgotten that her stomach was a death spot for her. Damn crop top revealing her sensitive spots.

“IHIHI’VE lehearned mYHYHY lesson!" Jinx squeezed her eyes shut, as if it would help with the feeling. Oh, how she was very wrong?

Sevika wanted to try a different spot to make it known that she was ignoring her pleas, so she reluctantly went for her neck. The squeal that left Jinx’s mouth shocked both Sevika and Isha. Almost stopping their onslaught, Isha and Sevika laughed at her reaction, causing her face to flush even more. Fuck, she's really going to take this to her grave.

“Yohohou dihihidn’t hehehear thahahat! Shuhuhut uhuhuhp.." Jinx was pouring out giggles here and there from how sensitive her neck was. It was an adorable sight for them both.

“It's like your whole personality changed, shit!" Sevika admitted, becoming fond of her reactions. With all the shit that has been going on lately, Sevika was relieved by Jinx to finally let loose and forget about the whole world for just a moment by laughing her heart out. She was hoping that Jinx was feeling the same, maybe even reminiscing about her own situation with past bondment with her family.. Past family.

After a while, Jinx had finally abandoned her hands from covering her mouth to grab at Isha’s hands that were still scribbling away at her stomach. Finally showing her bright smile, it was like they were looking at Powder, and not Jinx. Seeing the little girl before she became a completely different person who was malnourished and mourned the loss of her family, and those who she thought had left her for who she was. They saw Powder. What a rare sight, huh?

“Ohohohkay!! Fohohor fuhucks sake! Stohohop, shihit!” Is all Jinx had said before dissolving in more breathy giggles, becoming more tired. With that, Sevika backed off, nodding to Isha to back off as well, then unwrapped her arm from Jinx’s neck to let her breathe.

Jinx gladly took in her well deserved breaths. Deciding to stay on the floor, she unintentionally invaded Sevika’s space like Sevika wasn't the one who invaded hers, she started to become annoyed, but decided not to comment.

“Gohodness, I will nehever mess with you guys again.. Shit! That was horrible." Jinx finally said, getting up and off of Sevika, thankfully for the older, who also got up as well.

“Yeah, well you better take your word for it, or I'll be the one targeting your stomach, kid." Sevika warned with a poke to Jinx’s stomach, causing her to flinch and cover where she had poked. She gave her a look, until turning to look at Isha who wore that same cheeky smile, never once did it leave her face.

“You're lucky miss space-invader over there is here to hold me back from getting my revenge on you!" Jinx jokingly warned with a finger pointed at the kid, earning a nervous chuckle from Isha. They did their signature handshake before Isha went off to do her own thing like always. Jinx eyed her before meeting eyes with Sevika once more.

“You like.. Completely changed into a new person when you laughed, it's kind of refreshing to hear someone let loose in a fucked up town we're under right now.” Sevika suddenly said, leaving Jinx stunned by her sincere words, and sudden attention. Her face flushed a bit once more.

“Well.. It's hard tryna keep my ego up when both people are attacking me, huh?” Jinx said, poking at Sevika’s side.

“Do you want a round two?" Sevika warned once again, perking up an eyebrow.

" NOPE! anyway, I'll go into town.. You know, Ekko might need me.” Jin said, darting out the Hideout to escape what she started once again.

Sevika only nodded her head from side to side with a chuckle. This kid.

[majunju]

(right > left) gentleman

[fisheito]

You know who you remind me of? Helga Pataki.

Please tell me you (or somebody else) gets the reference 😂

anon u turned my world to static with that namedrop

on the list of things i did NOT expect to happen ,because hUH??: someone dragging [hey arnold] into my tiny nuca inbox

[sysig]

Guess who :3c (Patreon)

[an-assortment-of-forks]

there are doctors there are hospitals there are specialists there is medicine there are systems in place so people do not have to suffer and be tortured under their own chronic pain daily and yet. they're all fucking inaccessible to the people who need it most!!! to what I would argue is most disabled people!! I'm so fucking done with the medical system.

[radgeorgie]

had an amazing interview yesterday.... was told I'd know by Monday.... but it's alleged they DRUG TEST and I just bought 6 packs of weed edibles 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

[prozach27]

.

[kellystar321]

.

[bbrabbits]

i have to make appointments & also let my doctor know id rather continue one of the new meds she put me on bc it actually helped but ive been completely unmedicated for 2 fucking days & the thought of doing Anything makes me wanna throw up im so over being a person

[1eeminho]

not to rant on here again but how can my uni justify having exams that arent comparable but will get people the same degree. like. my friend and i are both getting a masters in psych and we can choose three modules out of five available ones. we did the same except for one module. for the one he chose he had such a simple exam where the prof mostly talked to himself, asked easy questions and he got the best grade comfortably (ofc he prepared but it was comparably comfortable). now for me i have the hardest fucking exam in my entire uni career, the prof expects us to be Experts in this field she has made multiple people cry before in her exams and its So Much Input that i have to study all while this grade weighs the same as my friends grade in the easy module like ???????? how can this happen fr how can they let exams be so biased. their entire grading system is bullshit

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

I think the reader's response to this post is probably going to either be "That's incredibly minor" or "Holy shit YES I'M ALSO PROUD", depending on people's personal experiences with academia, but:

Today I am incredibly proud of one of my students.

In the interests of disguising identities, let's call them Ceri. Ceri is one of my third year undergrads (meaning their final year, for anyone unfamiliar with UK uni systems.) They transferred to us last year, and within two weeks I was giving them the contact info to get to Student Services and get themself screened for ADHD; they have some mental health struggles, but I clocked pretty quickly that they STRUGGLE with procrastination, and punctuality, and attending 9am lectures in particular. Naturally, as is the way of my people, it took them a further four months to remember to go to the screening. Lol. Lmao. Rofl, in fact.

But, they did it eventually! Their screening lit up like a Christmas tree at the ADHD section, and they got a free laptop and optional one week extensions and a study support worker named Claire. This has helped tremendously, and although mental health + until-then-unsupported ADHD meant their academic profile had slid sideways somewhat, with the new tools available and a couple of resits they passed the year and hit this year running.

Until, that is, the last fortnight.

Now, I take them for a Habitat Management module that has two assessments: an academic poster presentation before Christmas, and a site-specific management plan in May. Naturally this means we are at that happy point in the year for the poster presentations. I give out the briefs at the start of the year, so they've had them since October; I've also been periodically checking in with them all for weeks, to make sure they don't have any major burning questions. The poster presentation was to pick a species reintroduction project, pull the habitat feasibility study out of it, and then critique that study; Ceri chose to look at the hen harrier reintroductions proposed for the southern UK. All good.

Which brings us nicely to today! Ceri's presentation is scheduled for 2.30. At 11am-1pm, I am lecturing the first years on Biodiversity, while Ceri is learning about environmental impact assessment with a colleague I shall call Aeron. This means we are separately occupied during those same hours.

Nevertheless, Aeron messages me at about 12.

"I think Ceri needs to see you after your lecture," he writes. "They're panicking, I genuinely think they might cry. I'm worried. Are you free at 1?"

I say I am. At 1, I get lunch and sit in the common area; Ceri comes to see me. To my personal shame, imagine all of the following takes place while I stuff my face with potato.

Now: this part is going to be uncomfortably familiar to anyone who has ever tried higher education with ADHD, especially unmedicated. It certainly was for me. All I can say is, I never had the courage to take the step here that Ceri did.

"I have to confess," they said quietly, and Aeron was right, they were fighting back tears. "My mental health has been so, so bad for the last fortnight. I've left it way, way too late. I don't have anything to present."

"Nothing at all?" I asked.

"I've been researching," they said helplessly. "I found loads on the decline of the hen harrier. But it wasn't until last night that I finally found a habitat feasibility study to critique. Generally... I've been burying my head about it, and it just got later and later. I thought I should come in for Aeron's lecture, and I should at least tell you."

This part is a minor thing, right? But honestly, I remember being in the grip of that particular shame spiral. I never did manage to tell my lecturers to their faces. I just avoided. I honestly can't imagine having the courage it took them to come in and tell me this, rather than just staying home and avoiding me.

"I think..." they said hesitantly, "I know I can submit up to a week late, for a capped mark. I think I need to do that, and apply for extenuating circumstances. But then I'll have both Aeron's assignment and yours due at the same time."

Which meant they would crumble under the pressure and likely struggle to pass both; so me, being as noble and heroic as I unarguably am, stopped eating potato and said, "Let's make that plan B."

(It was good potato. I am a hero.)

So, we made plan A: I moved their timeslot to 4.30, giving them three and a half hours. The shining piece of luck in this whole thing was that this was the crunch time assignment - if it had been Aeron's, they'd have had to try and write a 3000 report in that time. But for me, all they had to write was an academic poster, and those things are light on words by design. We found them a Canva template, and then we quickly sketched out a recommended structure based on the brief: if it's habitat feasibility, look at food availability, nesting site availability, and mortality risks in the target release site. Bullet point each. Bullet point how well the study assessed each. Write a quick intro and conclusion. Take notes as you go, and present the poster itself at 4.30.

"You think I should try?" they asked doubtfully, looking like I'd just asked them to go mano-a-mano with a feral badger.

"If you run out of time, so be it," I said. "But your brain is trying to protect you from a non-existent tiger. That's why you've procrastinated - it's been horrible, and you've been shame spiralling, and your brain is trying to shield you from the negative experience; but it's the wrong type of help for this situation! So while you're sitting there working on it, hating life, every time your brain goes 'This is hopeless, I can't do it', you think right back 'Yes I can, it just sucks.' And you carry on. Good?"

"Good," they said. "I'm going to mainline coffee and hole up in the library. Enjoy your potato."

And then, of course, I had to go and watch the other students' presentations, so that was the end of me being any help at all. I spent all afternoon wondering if they were going to manage it, or if I would be getting a message at 4.25 telling me they'd failed, and would have to submit late and hope for an EC.

And Tumblrs

Tumblrs

Let me FUCKING tell you

They turned up at 4.15, fifteen minutes early, wearing a mask of grim, harrowed determination and fuelled by spite and coffee, and they pulled up that poster and started presenting and yes, okay, I'll admit their actual delivery was dramatically unpolished and yes, they forgot to include the taxanomic name for the hen harrier on the poster and yes, fine, I admit that there were more than a few awkward moments where they lost their place in their hastily scribbled notebook but LET ME FUCKING TELL YOU -

They smashed it. It was well-critiqued, it had a map, it had full citations, it had a section on the hen harrier's specific ecology and role in the ecosystem, it had notes on their specific conservation measures. They described case studies they'd read about elsewhere. They answered the questions we threw at them with competence and depth. There was analysis. All that background research they'd done came right to the fore. They were even within the time limit by 15 seconds.

You would never have known they'd produced it in three hours, from a quivering and terrified mess fighting the bodily urge to dehydrate via tear ducts. After they left, the second marker and I looked at each other and went "So that was a 2:1, right?"

I caught up with Aeron downstairs and he was beaming. Apparently Ceri had seen him on their way out, and had gone over to talk to him. Aeron said the difference between the Ceri of this morning and the Ceri of then was like two different people; in four hours, they'd gone from their voice literally breaking as they admitted the problem, ashamed and broken, to being relaxed and happy and smiling.

"I reckon I've passed," they apparently told Aeron, pleased. "Maybe even a 2:2. There's things I wish I'd had the time to do better, but I'll be happy if I passed."

They won't know until late January what they got, because we're not allowed to release marks until 20 term days after hand-in, and the Christmas holidays are about to hit. But I'm really hoping I can be there when they're released.

But mostly, I'm just... insanely proud of them. I cannot tell you how happy I am. And I know, I know, obviously this is not a practice I would want to see them do regularly, or indeed ever again, and it only worked because they were fucking lucky with the assignment format, but like... when life is just punching you in the face, and you hit a breaking point... isn't it nice? That just this once, you pull off a miracle, and it's fixed? The disaster you thought was about to ruin you is gone? To get that relief?

Anyway. Super super proud today.