#careful don't activate the alarm

[seeseagulls]

[medicinemane]

Man, I'm just kind of dazed today

I woke up yesterday around 9am, didn't do much for the day, went to bed... realized it was too hot to fall asleep (cause my window is broken so I can't open it)

So I got up, filled 3 box with papers as I sorted out the magazines and mail

Then I needed to stay up till after 8am so I could go to the post office to return that bowl. Came back and laid down but... you know when your body just feels wired and you really need to sleep but can't? Probably cause it's pumping out hormones to keep me awake to compensate for me being so tired, that's my guess based on how it feels

Anyway, lay down and kind of drift off with a video in the background, but... I think I was just on the verge of sleep but not able to cross over... like dozing at best

Then I hear Bart making noise and look over and he's acting like he's hunting a mouse, and sure enough he was, so he helps me cup it, and then I go take it to a field outside of town to hopefully live a better life... but clearly wasn't sleeping if I'm doing that

And... I'm still up. I think I'm gonna try and take another crack at sleeping... I hope I can do it. Things do at least feel a bit cooler

But yeah, I'm a mess today, gonna be two days worth of dash to look through whenever I get up, and then I can also respond to the couple messages I've got

But oof... hate feeling like this. The non depressed part of me wants to die just because maybe then I could finally rest

[twilightarcade]

1 thing that's fucked up is when you actually make plans 4 yourself and everyone gets all offended . Sorry I wanted to do something by myself lol

[gremlingottoosilly]

Eldritch Horror! Konig with a Witch! Reader who accidentally summoned him and now has no idea how to get rid of the large shadow monster desperate to mate.

You needed a familiar. A bat, or, maybe, a cute black cat that would drag your ingredients from the top shelve and deliver mail. You needed some company, something cute and weak - and you prepared for the ritual, cut a bit of your arm to get the blood out, put some of the tea leaves in the cauldron, waiting for the creature summoned. The book you used for the incantation was just a tad bit weird and old, but almost all witch books are - it's not like you have a lot of options here, unfortunately.

The cauldron went into smoke, then - into boiling. You thought it was a good sign, the magic slowly activating as your powers drained to call for someone cute, someone magical and obedient, someone... There is a tentacle poking out of the cauldron. An octopus familiar, huh...you weren't too disappointed, but it wasn't ideal, either. Maybe if could turn the tentacles in a pretty pink color, or if you could exchange it for something fluffy and adorable or- It's a man. Well, sort off. It's a man, and it sets off your alarms - literally and figuratively. Human-like familiars are almost all demons, and demons as familiar is bad news. You aren't even remotely strong enough to contain someone as strong as him, and with the energy that envelops him as he slowly moves out o the cauldron, too small for his tall, muscular and dangerously beautiful body, you know you're fucked. It's safe to say that you're familiar now. With Konig not being bond by a summoning ritual - he is far too strong for that - you think that the only reason he didn't kill you, a dumb and arrogant witch trying to contain him - is only because he latched on you as his personal breeder. He mated you, the first thing he did after pushing you onto your bed and taking you raw, like the helpless thing you are, and then softly spoke some words in a dead, eldritch language that you don't understand. Then he mated you again and again until you felt nothing but throbbing between your legs and pumps of pleasure as the eggs slowly filled your womb. He brought you some food after - you think it's his way of caring for his mate. He also called you a dumb, arrogant and weak thing, and then something in his language again, that was probably yet another insult.

[inkskinned]

it's just that there's a few more steps you have to take that other people don't have to take, but they don't see the steps, so they think you should be able to hop from moment to moment, a chickadee.

it isn't getting out of bed. it is the weight, the hook in your chest, the anchor. you have to move the anchor first. you have to silence your alarm, but your phone is in your hand, which means now you have to put the phone down, which is too-hard. you get stuck in there for a while, the white screen, mindlessly scrolling. you don't even like this activity, have tried a few other options but - here you are, and time is passing.

you've googled iron deficiency causes depression and if i drink enough water does it help with mental illness and anxiety but no caffiene within the last two weeks, like how you googled am i gay quiz at 17.

it isn't just calling the doctor back, it's the anxiety, it's these little moths in your lung cavities, furious and fluttering. you need to figure out how to capture your fingers from between their nervous bodies. you are an adult, you can say the words yes hi, i'm calling because i need - but you need to practice first. maybe write it down because what if you misspeak, wouldn't that be embarrassing. write it down, but you need to find a pen first. well, actually, your desk is kind of messy. you should get a new pen. you should get a new organizational system. you should try journaling.

your grades in school were always strange. the way teachers would say things like it feels like you're not trying. you could touch stars in the stuff you cared about. well, sometimes. god be willing. homework average zero. oops! your english teacher's wrinkled brow: i know you know this stuff. what the fuck are you doing?

it isn't the showering, it's the mirror before the shower and the soft horrible pull of your naked physique. you have to avoid eye contact completely or else it'll be 93 minutes later and you'll have picked at your skin until every little pore is bleeding. you have to stand up but standing is tiring and also you should have remembered to buy more soap but you never remember anything. maybe get out of the shower and while it's still running and you're still dripping wet, use your phone to take a note. make a note to get your groceries. let the shower run while you stand half-in half-out and get lost in your phone for a moment. come back out when the water runs cold and now you have to sprint to get ready.

your grandmother's frown. you're just being lazy. protestant work ethics in a house that isn't even protestant. she says she just learned different but she means learned better, doesn't she.

it's not that you can't send the email, it's that your hands have been hurting lately and the desk really is messy and also why the fuck would you even care about this thing? doesn't everyone else feel like they're drowning? hi brendon thanks so much for sending! will review and get back to you shortly. but now you're on the internet, close the tab with tumblr on it. go on, close it. feel the little soft vapor of boredom come up and over your eyeteeth and make everything overwhelming and itchy.

literally all you have to do is put on shoes to go outside. you're literally already dressed, that's the hard part of this whole thing. literally just put the shoes on. just... do it! do it! this shit is easy!

it's literally that easy. just stop taking all those stupid invisible steps. stop following your strange made-up rules. times like this, even you're positive you're faking. you just don't want to bother with the cleaning and the cooking and the being-an-adult.

but then - shouldn't you be able to put these stupid shoes on? nobody's even looking. go on kid. life is out there! just take the leap!

get moving.

[helloilikepurple]

DC X DP - Mirrors

Did Danny want to live in Gotham? No, of course not. Did he have a choice? Nope. When does he ever?

Now, he may be technically homeless, but he's also technically dead, so human laws technically don't apply to him. So, naturally, he pics out an empty mansion so big even if the owners were to come home, the chances they'd run into each other would be really low, and settles in.

This 'mansion' happens to be Drake Manor. Look, Danny lived in nowhere Illinois and kinda had his hands full dealing with ghosts, a double life, bullies, and being actively hunted. He doesn’t know much about celebrities. If you tell him the name of someone super famous, it might sound vaguely familiar, but that's about it. What he knew was superheroes and vigilantes (some of them, okay, give him a break). That's about it.

So the name Drake in connection with Gotham didn't ring any alarm bells. He did some surface level research: the Drakes are dead, survived by their only child, Timothy Drake-Wayne, who now owns their house but was adopted by some other super rich guy called Bruce Wayne and doesn't live in it, leaving it empty for the foreseeable future.

It was the perfect place!

Danny didn't explore much, partly because he didn't care to and partly because he was too tired to from healing. He cleaned up after himself, used only his bedroom (chosen for being tucked way back and out of the way), the attached bathroom, and the theatre occasionally as a treat. He lived off of the provisions packed for him, ectoplasm and water from the sink.

Cut to, few weeks in.

Danny's got a new routine, he's taken his stitches out, and is still super fucked up, but a lot better than when he arrived. He hasn't been outside since he arrived, but ghosts don't need Vitamin D anyway. Is he slightly depressed? Maybe. But he's also dead, so, bigger priorities.

Tim is looking through his stuff for something or other, and it occurs to him he probably left it next door. He hasn't been to Drake Manor in months, but he sort of really needs this thing, so he sucks it up and borrows a car because like hell is he walking the several miles from this front door to that one.

He goes to his old bedroom, opens the door, and comes face-to-face with himself.

And Danny doesn't know what he's supposed to do in this situation.

Listen, Danny doesn't always make the best decision in the moment. It's a very normal flaw to have! So he tells who can only be Timothy Drake-Wayne himself when asked, that his name is Timothy Drake, and this is his house, and, actually, who are you and how did you get in?

This causes Tim to assume Danny is himself from another dimension who he accidentally dragged to his dimension by messing with the Time Stream to get Bruce back. Danny continues to accidently fuel this misunderstanding without meaning to.

(This is not helped by the fact that a DNA test doesn't disprove this. Danny's DNA is corrupted, but what Tim does get is identical to himself. This is how Danny finds out he was adopted, and how Tim, much later when misunderstandings are cleared, meets the identical twin brother he never knew he had.)

[keefechambers]

I wanna be blunt about this ongoing James somerton suicide threat issue but I don't want to connect it to my IRL Twitter to comment on the dogshit takes I'm seeing there or the good and well meaning but maybe too kind takes I'm seeing here.

Obviously, I hope that this is a false alarm cry for help fake threat. Yes, it would reinforce that Somerton is a self-centered egomaniac who can't handle consequences but that's preferable to dead.

But I work in local news and let me tell you something. I've covered half a dozen family annihilating murder suicides and heard hundreds of men making suicide threats over police scanners and a huge swath of these don't happen because they're depressed or because people are mean to them on the Internet. They're punishment. A person with an enormous amount of entitlement towards people around them gets backed into a corner and they punish the people closest to them by killing themselves or threatening to kill themselves.

No one wants to talk about this feature of suicide because...you want to help people who are struggling and guide them away from this path and being blunt about the fact that sometimes people die of suicide as a consequence of their own shittiness towards the world does not really help actively suicidal people. But suicide rates are higher in men not just because they have higher rates of untreated mental illness (a societal issue we must address for the sake of all) but because some people, often men, use suicide (but more often the threat of suicide) as a tool of abuse and control.

I'm not saying somerton is like, an icky abuser bad guy, he's just a run of the mill grifter scumbag, but his actions in the past show a clear pattern of escalating behavior that aligns with this.

Somerton gets called out -> somerton alleges physical threats of violence against himself and his fans rally around him supportively -> Harry calls somerton out in a bigger way -> Somerton says he's hospitalized but there are inconsistencies with the story but no one wants to talk about that because you wanna be nice-ish about a guy who just tried to kill himself and now he's trying to be framed as tragic but it doesn't really stick -> somerton apologizes again but his apology is rightly called out for lies and manipulative framing as well as his continuing attempts to profit off the community he betrayed -> James posts a suicide note publicly putting the onus of his own suicide on the loss of his friend Nick who he repeatedly threw under the bus and now everyone is rallying to say nice-ish shit and wring their hands in concern over poor james -> indefinitely repeat this vicious cycle forever until he actually does die or finally gives up and gets real, intensive therapy and a day job.

Thats not to say anyone's concern is misplaced, it's 100% better for him to be a living scumbag than a dead one. He deserves the chance to grow and learn and have a life outside of youtube.

But you don't have to portray this as the action of a sad depressed man who got bullied off the Internet. It's manipulation, whether he intended to go through with it or not and whether someone intervened or not. Not denying that internet bullying is a thing, I'm sure there were some people who were shitty directly to James but he made the choice to not unplug from this and to try and keep being a public figure rather than taking care of himself. He could have deleted Twitter, blocked anyone who was an asshole, gone to therapy and tried to move on with his life but if he'd deleted his channel he'd have lost monetization... Can't have that, right? So he posts some apology videos so his channel stays active and then complains about how ruinous this is while never trying to take real accountability.

But the reality is that people would have forgotten about him so quickly and maybe his job prospects would've been impacted but...that's on him, and that's for him to figure out but it's not actually life ruining. He chose to continue to engage knowing he'd get backlash and hate and he'd feel worse and worse and things would never get better without the time and space for people to forget.

He made the choice to make a public spectacle of his own alleged suicide. That is the action of someone who wants to put the weight of their suicide on someone else's shoulders and is morally wrong. He can be held to account for that, alive or dead.

[bunnys-kisses]

Hi bunny!! Can I please get scones with a side of juice, served by Max Verstappen? 🫡 thx bae

bakery menu

want to submit your own order? check out the menu! i've been really back to writing since my chest infection got better so please! send me orders! i love seeing what ya'll request!! as for this one, thank you so much!

scones ("but what if they see us!) + juice (cockwarming) served by max verstappen (formula one)!

cw: smut/pwp, semi-public sex, oral sex (max receiving), cockwarming, risky sex, girlfriend!reader

sim racing was supposed to be fun. a relaxing activity for max to turn off part of his brain that was working overtime after a practice. it made logistical sense that after a long day of racing, he would go home and race some more.

but maybe that was max's weird brain.

so, why streaming with his friend was he so stressed. and why his eyes were less on the game in front of him and more on the camera. he scratched the side of his face as he tried to compose himself. but it was rather hard when his lovely, caring, kind, amazing girlfriend was between his legs with his cock in your mouth.

this all started as a bet. you had heard all about max's self control, that max was a storm that he kept at bay. he had nerves of steel. so it was simple, he got to stream with the boys and not break concentration.

"but what if they see us!" was max's first questions. but you silenced him with a few kisses and told him it would be fine. this only piqued his interest, "and what if i win this bet?" he asked as he snaked an arm around you shoulders. you were pulled close to him. his competitive spirit got the best of him.

you rubbed his chest and giggled, "well, anything you want, max. anything, well, except maybe murder. but, any which way you want to fuck me, you can have. but!" you tapped his nose, "only if you win."

"and what if you win?"

you just smiled at him, "oh don't worry, max." you waved your hand at him, "no need to worry about that at all!" which only alarmed him further.

so now he was white-knuckled on the steering wheel as he tried to keep up the conversation with his friends over the discord call. his attention was split three ways and it was making his brain melt.

it was a little over stimulaing, but the constant throb of your lips around his cock managed to anchor him to some kind of reality. the feeling was familiar.

in all fairness, you quite enjoyed his cock in your mouth. even with the blanket over his head and lap to keep your little secret hidden. it was hot under the fleece blanket, but when max shifted every so often, it made it worth it.

"yeah, mate, yeah." max said idly, he exhaled deeply as he tried to compose himself. but it was hard when you started to move your head a little more. his eyes almost rolled back into his head. he couldn't even grab the back of your head.

that would blow your entire cover.

but, deep down the entire thing was painfully hot. the thrill of possibly being caught. of having to be sneaky. it was rare that you two were sneaking around, so moments like these made liquid heat course through his veins.

you shifted a little under the blanket and continued to lick at his cock.

he felt your name on his tongue, but kept it together. even though it was a private call between friends. he didn't want to blow your cover, but it was hard when your mouth was on him so nicely.

usually he liked to hold onto your head and rock his cock up against your throat. so to leave everything up to you while he tried to split his attention was hard.

"how's your girl, mate?" he heard.

he frozen for a moment and felt you squeeze his thigh. he cleared his throat and said, "oh you know, same old, same old." your tongue grazed his achy tip and he almost threw the steering wheel. he exhaled once more, "i mean, she's fantastic as always." he chuckled.

he shifted in his seat a little bit and you giggled to yourself as you kept his cock in your mouth. you made a small noise and max coughed to cover the noise.

he thought he was done with the race, but was coaxed into another. and it was getting even harder to keep it together. he could feel his cock in the back of your throat.

you felt like a dream, you always felt like a dream. right now he wanted to just got his fingers into your hair and push his cock as deep as it'll go. he wanted to stain your throat with his cum.

"pretty girl." he muttered to himself absently.

his friend asked, "what was that?"

max's eyes went wide for a moment, he said, "nothing, nothing! just thinking about what my girl is making for dinner tonight." he nervously scratched his face, "she's my pretty girl, right? sorry, mate, too deep in my thoughts."

his cock hurt, but his balls hurt more. he felt his heartbeat in his ears, which made it harder for him to focus on what his friends were saying.

"shit." he exhaled deeply, the sweat clung to his neck.

the orgasm crept up on him, he tried to split his attention. but primal need to climax down your pretty throat overtook his mind. he held back any lustful noises and coughed into the collar of his shirt as he came in your mouth.

you swallowed hastily and heard the slight noises that your boyfriend was making. you had fully broken him. he heard him cough through another moan as his cock grew soft in your mouth.

"hey mate." max said, his jaw tense. he could feel the blood in his face, "i have to go real quick, i'll talk to you soon, yeah?" and didn't wait for a response before he turned off his camera and left the discord call.

when he knew everything was off, he leaned back in his seat and covered his face with his hands. his heart was pounding as he felt you got up. soon the blanket that was covering your head was now covering both of yours.

you gave him a searing kiss and draped your arms around him. the kiss tasted salty and it made max's exposed cock twitch. you said in a sing-song voice, "i win!"

he groaned and looked at you, he could feel the what radiating off of you. he took the blanket off of you both and you and said, "please, whatever you do. just be gentle." <3

[imagine-knowing-a-name]

A Study of Silence

Summary: Your life of married bliss is failing. A moment of heated arguing finally reveals the reason Natasha is pulling away from you, so you offer her the choice: stay or leave?

Word Count: 862

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Warning: Angst

A/N: I wrote this at 1am when my flatmates set the fire alarm off, so forgive any mistakes lol. It's loosely based on 'Fluorescent Adolescent' by the Arctic Monkeys.

»»————-　★　————-««

Silence. Then the occasional turning of a page. In your mind, there are three types of silences: a comfortable silence, a suspenseful silence, and an awkward silence.

This fell firmly into the third category, but you made no move to change it - wondering instead how and when such an activity – sitting silently in your wife's presence – had turned from comfortable to awkward.

It hadn't happened just in this session: that was doomed to awkwardness from its start - but a month ago? a year ago? It was hard to recall a single moment of comfortable bliss outside of the early days of your relationship.

Everything had seemed so bright: an Avenger falling for a simple mechanic, a match made only in your dreams… though sometimes you wondered if it should ever have gone beyond that. She'd promised to quit her job for you, retire herself to deskwork upon marriage. "I want to do it," she had promised, "my love for you overshadows any job I do, and if this means I'm not spending months away from you and you're not spending months worrying, then it's an easy decision."

You swore your life to her then, showed her your love and your devotion. That love never faded. But where did it go wrong?

"My love?" you said. The redhead didn't look up from her book; you tried to see what it was, but she maintained her senses enough to shield that from your sights. With a sigh, you continued into the silence, "I was thinking maybe we could cook together tonight?"

She looked up now, fingers sightlessly marking the page. "Again? Didn't we do that..." she trailed off, searching for a memory, a recent excuse.

You finish her sentence for her: "last month? Yeah. I thought we could maybe do some bonding this month too, but nevermind."

"Y/N, we can-"

"You're clearly not interested, Nat, I'm not going to force you, so go hang out with your old Avengers buddies again and I'll make dinner alone."

There was a bite to your words that you knew you'd later regret, but in the moment you couldn't bring yourself to care. Fighting had become the only sure fire way to end the stagnant silences, and these days, neither you nor Natasha were afraid to use the method.

"You always do this," Natasha seethed, "they're my friends. I used to spend my every moment with them, living together, working together, everything! And I gave that up for you! You want me to give up even seeing them too? Would that finally be enough?!"

The silence fell again. A fourth type: one of contemplating, one of heated feelings and unwitting confessions and, finally, understanding. You understood. In her anger, Natasha had revealed the secret to it all, where it had all gone wrong.

You softened your voice, speaking quietly as if your wife were an injured animal, easy to startle. "I didn't make you give that up. I don't want you to give up more and I don't want you to blame me for your choices."

She stayed silent, though her jaw tightened and her eyes focused on a point behind you. You didn't have to turn to remember which picture lies there.

"I love you, Natasha," you confessed again, knowing it could be a last confession. "I love you and I want only the best for you. And if you miss the superhero days, the risk, the team, everything... if leaving that and marrying me is the mistake that's making you miserable, then I'm giving you the chance to undo that mistake. I don't want to be the reason you live your life in nostalgia and regret."

You didn't wait for her to respond, what was the point? Her gaze was still fixed on the picture behind you: the team in its heyday, when they were still young and wild and disorganised. She clang to until she got sentimental, forgetting that you had been the one to take the photo, right before Natasha became the first of the group to settle down.

Her response would come soon enough, you knew, so you went to your room and waited. You hoped for the eventual knock on the door, the long awaited conversation, then either the forgiveness or the conclusion. You hoped all through the evening, even as you cooked by yourself, ate by yourself, and slept by yourself.

A night with the Avengers might have been what she needed to make her decision.

Natasha Romanoff came into your life with a burning passion and a humanity to her that few people could ever achieve. You expected it to last forever, but come morning you realised the truth: Natasha Romanoff was a spy born and raised, and no amount of humanity can ever erase that from her.

Her ring was on your bedside table in the morning, the house left in a state of suspended silence. Natasha herself was nowhere to be found, disappearing like a spy, with no words spoken on the matter.

She had made her choice, just as you had made yours.

You loved Natasha too much to keep her; she loved you too little to stay.

»»————-　★　————-««

taglist: @canvascoloredin

[solarmorrigan]

omg I'm obsessed with your latest "don't fucking touch me" prompt. Would you continue it?

Hello! I know this is actually from earlier in the week than the one I answered a couple of days ago, but I was saving it because, while I don't exactly have a continuation, I do have a little stobin interlude I wanted to share

I'm still working on the "fix it" part of this idea, but at least in the meantime Steve gets a hug?

[Part 1]

It isn’t unusual for Steve to show up at Robin’s house well after any reasonable guest would come knocking. It isn’t unusual for him to do it by climbing the side of the house and knocking on her window (she hasn’t told him that her parents don’t really care anymore if he’s there in the middle of the night; she figures the physical activity counts as some kind of jock enrichment). Unfortunately, it isn’t even unusual for him to appear out of the dark because he’s upset.

What’s more unusual is the way he sits silently on her bed after she’s let him in, the way he’s almost folded in on himself, the way he won’t quite meet her eyes – as if there’s anything he can or even needs to hide from her.

What’s fucking unheard of is the way he starts crying when she pulls him into a hug, his face pressed to her shoulder and his arms wrapped around her waist like she might disappear if he doesn’t hold on.

Robin doesn’t even understand what’s happening at first; she can feel Steve shaking against her as she rubs a hand up and down his back, but when his shoulders start to heave like he’s having trouble drawing in breath, a cold bolt of uncertainty lances through her gut. She tries to pull him back to look at him, to see what’s wrong, but she only gets him far enough away to hear one very quiet sob before he’s hiding his face again and she realizes–

“Oh. Oh, shit– okay, this is happening. Okay.” Robin resolutely does not panic as Steve sobs into her shoulder, even though crying isn’t something Steve does (not that Robin’s ever seen, and she’s seen Steve through a lot); instead, she goes back to rubbing a hand up and down his back, bringing her other up to pet his hair, and tries her best to project literally any kind of comfort. “Okay, you’re okay – well, you’re obviously not okay, but I’ve got you. You can just let all this out and when you feel up to it you can tell me what’s wrong because you’re kind of freaking me out, but not until you’re ready, okay? I’ve got you.”

She feels maybe her success is mixed, but Steve doesn’t complain and he doesn’t seem to be made more upset, so she can’t be doing too badly.

All told, Steve’s breakdown is unsettlingly quiet. Robin tries not to think about why he can cry so silently, and instead focuses on finding the transition from actively sobbing to sniffling and trying to catch his breath. The next time she tries to pull him back, he lets her, still not quite meeting her eyes and automatically bringing a hand up to wipe at the tear tracks on his face.

Robin has seen Steve all manner of beaten and bloodied and bruised, but somehow, sitting here in her room, still half-curled into her space with his face blotchy and wet from crying, she thinks this might be the most upset she’s ever seen him. She can only imagine what’s happened to cause it – at least until she can get him to tell her.

“Get it all out?” Robin asks, as gently as she’s able (she’s never been great at gentle, but Steve’s used to her by now, she thinks he’ll get it).

Steve shrugs, but then gives a little nod.

“Okay, so here’s what we’re going to do: I’m going to give you some tissues so you can clean yourself up, because I love you, but I’m not going to wipe your nose.” This gets a congested laugh from Steve, and Robin allows herself an answering smile. “Then I’m going to go downstairs and get you something to drink, and then you’re going to tell me what’s wrong, because I am this close to being seriously alarmed.”

“Sorry,” Steve says gruffly, ducking his head, moving to pull away.

“Nope, we don’t do sorry here, nothing to be sorry for,” Robin insists, grabbing Steve by the shoulders and keeping him close. “I just want to know what’s wrong, okay? I want to help. So here.” She shoves the box of tissues from her bedside table into Steve’s lap and gets up with one last squeeze to his shoulders. “I’ll be right back.”

Robin slips out of her room and sneaks down to the kitchen (her parents don’t really care about Steve’s late night visits, but they will be grumpy if she wakes them up), poking around quietly for some kind of suitable post-breakdown sustenance. She ends up with a bottle of Gatorade from the fridge and a half-eaten package of Oreos from the pantry – the late night snack of champions, she decides.

Back up in her room, Steve has shucked his sneakers (no shoes on Robin’s bed, it’s a cardinal rule) and settled himself up against the pillows; his face is dry and his eyes aren’t as red, but the tiny smile he gives her when she passes over her spoils still makes him look just as sad as before. Still, Robin valiantly lets him get through half the bottle of Gatorade before she elbows him gently in the side, demanding answers.

“Right.” Steve caps the bottle and rolls it nervously between his hands, watching the highlighter fluid yellow slosh around inside. “So, uh. You know how I’ve been seeing Eddie?”

Robin’s heart sinks. “Oh, shit, did you two break up?”

“Actually, it turns out…” Steve clears his throat. “It turns out that there wasn’t anything to break up. Apparently, we’ve been friends with benefits this entire time and I’m just a delusional idiot who made up an entire relationship in my head. So there’s that.”

There is nothing Robin can think to say to that. There’s entirely too much to unpack, and none of it makes sense.

“What,” she finally manages, a little flat.

“Yeah, he said that, uh. I’m not the type of guy you have a relationship with, and that I’m hot, but I’m just a good friend, and we’re just having fun.” If Steve’s voice cracks on the last word, Robin doesn’t mention it.

In fact, she’s too busy being consumed by rage to really notice. “He said that to your face?” she demands.

Steve clears his throat. He won’t meet her eyes. “Not– not exactly.”

“Steve.”

“The guys were over, and I went out to get some air, and that’s… what I heard Eddie saying to them when I came back in,” Steve says. “So now they know how pathetic I am, too, which is. Great. That’s fucking great.”

The world goes still. Suddenly, everything makes perfect sense. Robin reaches out and squeezes Steve’s wrist. “I’m going to have to leave for a few hours, okay?” she says. “I have to bike down to the trailer park and fucking kill Eddie.”

In a flash, Steve twists in Robin’s grip and grabs her by the wrist in turn. “Don’t leave,” he says quickly.

“No, he doesn’t– he doesn’t get away with this,” Robin hisses. “He doesn’t get to do this to you and not face consequences!”

“He wasn’t trying to– I mean– I was the one who–”

“Are you defending him right now?”

“No, I just– fuck.” Steve lets go of Robin and shoves both hands up into his hair, grabbing and pulling. “I already feel enough like some fucking – loser reject, okay? I don’t want to be alone right now. Please just… stay.”

The rage doesn’t abate (if anything, there’s probably more of it), but Robin’s priorities do rearrange, and she settles back on the bed next to Steve. “Fine,” she huffs. “Munson gets a stay of execution.”

She pushes the package of Oreos into Steve’s lap and orders him to finish the Gatorade. She doubts if he’s going to escape tonight without a migraine, but dehydration on top of stress will only make it worse.

They sit quietly for a while, munching on cookies, shoulder to shoulder on Robin’s bed, before Robin breaks into the silence.

“You’re not a loser, Steve. You’re my best friend, and you deserve to be loved, okay?” she says softly, reaching over to wrap her hand around his wrist again. “And one day it’s going to happen. I’m choosing to believe in love, too.”

For a long moment, Steve says nothing. When he finally does speak, his voice has gone a bit rough. “If you make me cry again, I’m dumping what’s left of the Gatorade over your head.”

Robin snorts, squeezing Steve’s wrist. “There’s that mean girl I know and love.”

Steve laughs, too, small but sincere, and Robin takes it as a win.

Part 3

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Hearts [S. R.]

Young!Spencer Reid x fem!reader

word count: 2.6k

and by public demand, part 2

summary: an intern pesters Spencer to get his attention and you help him get rid of it a bit, benefiting in the process.

A/N: here we go! started watching criminal minds last week and i'm halfway through the first season so expect a lot of content as I progress with the series. Spencer Reid from season one is the cutest thing I ever looked at

If you want to be added to the taglist just tell me, and if you have ideas, send them!

You'd think FBI offices would be quiet at night, but the truth is, with so many agents and interns reporting to do, the night seemed to be the busiest time.

After spending three months there you had almost obtained your own desk and knew most of the people, especially the BAU team whom you had been assigned to support for your internship. Since you began your university studies, you had wanted to work in that FBI unit and when the opportunity presented itself you were extremely excited, but now that it was a reality, you could realize that the workload was unimaginable and heavier than you expected. Still, with any luck, proper schooling, and practice you could be aiming for a permanent position in maybe two or three years. For now, being there as an intern was more than enough.

You were so engrossed in reading your computer screen that you didn't hear when the office door opened and it wasn't until a figure sat down next to you that you realized who it was.

You and Spencer Reid met many years ago, when you were both in middle school, in Las Vegas, and from that moment on you could appreciate what a prodigy he was. He was a very serious, quiet, and shy boy, but for some reason you always enjoyed his company and, judging by the fact that he never left you, you thought he did too. On some occasions you exchanged books that he returned to you in two days and you kept for a few weeks, you talked during some school breaks, you asked him for help with homework, and on more than one occasion you went so far as to defend him verbally from those silly children who bothered him; in general, you had something close to a friendship. You never thought that after so long, and so far from Las Vegas, you would see him again, much less in the condition you were in right now.

"Hey," you greeted him kindly, showing him a tired smile "What are you doing here?"

"I was finishing an analysis of yesterday's case," he replied. The team had had to profile another pyromaniac and for just a bit they had managed to catch him, which had left them somewhat tense "And you?"

"A report" you answered simply. You had the hypothesis that those kinds of activities ended up in the hands of the interns because they were extremely tedious and they wanted to get rid of it.

Reid wasn't much of a talker if the occasion didn't call for it and you knew it, so it wasn't too strange that he would only sit near you to watch you work, although there was something different about him tonight that alarmed you.

"You think I'm dumb?" he asked suddenly, forcing you to look up at him.

"You? Are you asking me if I think Doctor Reid is dumb? you asked, emphasizing his title, but he gently shook his head.

"Not in that sense, but like... weird or something."

“We all are a little bit. And that's not so bad” you said sincerely. You knew that on some occasions Spencer would ask questions and all you had to do was wait a bit for him to tell you what the doubt was about.

“And do you think…?” he started to say, a little unsure "Do you think I don't have a girlfriend because I'm that weird?"

"Who told you that?" you exclaimed more directly. You imagined that this concern could only arise from someone having suggested it, as had already happened on other occasions, and it still touched you a little that he had the confidence to assist you for that kind of thing.

"No, no one in particular"

"You know, I think you don't care about having or not having a girlfriend" you ventured to say "Was it Morgan?"

“No, not him,” he hastened to say, thinking a little about his next words, “Uhm, that girl from the department next door…”

"Victoria," you cut him off, rolling your eyes in anticipation and feeling the heat already rising up your cheeks. She was a typical mean girl; long black hair, tall, always wearing expensive dresses, high heels, and fake smiles. You'd met this girl during internships and it took you a couple of weeks to make you feel uncomfortable around her, but you finished hating her when you realized how intent she seemed to be on embarrassing Spencer every chance she got. The fact that her father was a department head made it a bit difficult to deal with any situation. "Why do you care what she says?"

“She is… persistent”

"You know she only does it because she wants to get your attention, right?" you explained, a little fed up with the situation and how he was always affected by what others said about him.

It was clear that from the beginning she had her eye on the young man, and on those days, she would walk around the office and try to start a conversation with Spencer, which he never carried out. When she noticed that her attempts were useless, she began to make hurtful comments that became recurring as the months went by, since it was the only time when she could receive any kind of attention from the brown-haired man. Spencer frowned, quite confused by the situation when you told him that, since apparently he hadn't made the same account of the facts as you.

"What are you talking about?"

"She likes you" you insisted, as if it were something obvious, although it didn't seem so to him. You could almost see how the gears in his brain were struggling to find a degree of coherence between the events that he had been ignoring for a long time.

"Then why does she say such horrible things to me?"

“It's because…” you mumbled, closing the lid of your computer and looking for a way to explain to the boy. It was amazing how he was the most intelligent person you knew and at the same time he would come to you to ask such banal things like that "she is a stupid girl who has had everything in life and since she isn't capable of having an intelligent conversation with you, she thinks that being mean is going to get your attention. It's like those kids who pulled your hair in elementary school," you muttered, trying to present an analogy, but he didn't react in any way “She probably only told you that because she wanted to know if you have a girlfriend, not because she really believed it.”

Spencer took a moment to absorb that, wondering how that made sense, since for him the fact that you liked a person implied being kind and attentive, not behaving as Victoria did with him. But you had read the signs from the beginning and that was probably another reason for your dislike for your internship partner, who you thought was unworthy of being attracted to someone as cute as him. Although during high school he hadn't been the most sought after by girls, now he was quite handsome and that shy and polite attitude made him even more attractive, at least for you. Besides the fact that, of course, it was a genius who you were talking to.

"And why didn't she just ask?" he genuinely murmured and you couldn't help but giggle.

"I don't know, when we like a person, we do stupid things"

"Do you really think she likes me?"

"Of course, what reason would there be for her not to?" you mumbled and he just looked away, as he did most of the time, while he shrugged, which made you think that maybe this conversation was more serious than you imagined "Do you like her?"

"No! Definitely not” he said right away, as if he was offended “It just seems strange to me that you say that”

"Say what?"

"That someone likes me"

"Oh, please," you breathed, completely incredulous. "You're charming, Reid, I don't think she’s the only one who likes you”

"Do you think I'm charming?" he said, slightly skeptical. You loved his reaction to any compliment he received. 

"Sometimes" you lied. Actually, you thought he was charming all the time "Besides you're an FBI profiler, don't you detect that kind of thing in girls?"

"It's harder to analyze women than criminals," he argued, making you chuckle slightly.

Suddenly the report you had to make was forgotten and you wished you wanted to spend more time with him, although you didn't know if he would be willing to do the same. It was one thing to be together at work and another very different thing was that he wanted to be with you personally.

"Do you have anything in particular to do today?" you exclaimed cautiously, so the question allowed him to politely get rid of the invitation if he wanted to. You held back your urge to smile when he said no, attentive to what you had to say “Do you want to go to my apartment? If I'm still here I'm going to have a migraine and I think you should relax for a while too”

“Go to your apartment?” he asked, just to be sure, to which you nodded.

“Yeah, like… order some pizza, and… do you like wine? I have wine at home. And we can put on thrillers and see who can figure out who the killer is first”

"I would beat you"

"You think so, Reid?" you said, challenging his strange burst of confidence, and Spencer nodded playfully, a lock of hair falling over his forehead. "I'll buy you your week's coffee if you beat me" saying this, you knew full well you didn't stand a chance, but if a couple of dollars spent on coffee would get you a few extra hours with him, you were willing to accept that.

"It's a deal" he smiled and in less than ten minutes you were out of the offices.

As expected, you lost the game, but you couldn't say you ended the night disappointed. At first you didn't even know why you invited him, because outside of that neighborhood park in Las Vegas, you'd never spent any time alone. Spencer was all shy at first, always sitting up straight and hugging his briefcase, but when you broke the tension he relaxed considerably. The wine helped a bit because, although he confessed to you that he didn't drink often, you two ended up with a bottle of red that you had in the cupboard; not too much to lose consciousness, but enough to get gigglier. Even Spencer's ever-dapper outfit was thrown into disarray, as he'd loosened his tie and removed his vest to deal with the rise in body temperature the alcohol brought on. As promised you had pizza for dinner, which he refused to let you pay for, and in the process you put on some of the classic movies you found, according to google, making sure neither of you had seen them before. That night you were tempted to tell your partner that he could sleep over there if he wanted, but you had to say that a hint like that might make him uncomfortable. You didn't want to break the magic of the moment.

So the next morning you walked into the Quantico offices more energetic than usual, holding a couple of glasses of coffee on a tray.

"Good morning, Y/L/N" Morgan greeted you, as you approached the BAU work area, where Hotch and Elle were also present.

"Good morning, have you seen Spencer today?"

"I suppose he arrived, but I haven't seen him"

"I think he hid in the kitchen"

"Why do you ask?" muttered Morgan, who was probably the gossipiest of the three and also the most teasing. You knew, unfortunately, that if you didn't tell him, he would question Spencer, and you didn't want him to feel uncomfortable.

“I bought him a coffee. We made a bet last night and I'll be buying it all week"

"So you're trying to make him fall for you, huh" he exclaimed, completely ignoring your explanation, so you decided to play along.

"I think I'll need a few more months for that" judging by the man's laugh, you knew that the answer had satisfied him. You wondered if it bothered you that Spencer might misinterpret that joke as fact, but at the same time you wondered if it really was something that bothered you enough to deny it.

You walked down the aisle looking for the brown-haired boy and greeted a few people along the way, until, as if by divine grace, you looked at the man’s back and at the same time heard the click of heels, which you already knew quite well, going in the same direction.

"Spencer!" you called him before Victoria could tell him anything, and he turned with that awkwardness that characterized him showing a small smile when he noticed that it was you.

"Hello"

“You better not be making your coffee,” you murmured, getting close enough to hand her the cup you brought on the tray and making sure Victoria, who was making her own drink, would overhear the conversation. “I hope you like it. Sweet as you"

"Thank you," he replied, slightly embarrassed by the compliment you'd just paid him. He peered into the cup and frowned “Why did the barista write a heart next to my name?”

“It wasn't the barista, it was me”

It took Spencer a moment to sink the words in, and then he looked back at you with a confused expression.

"And why did you write a heart next to my name?"

You couldn't help but contain a laugh and Victoria, who had been attentive to the entire conversation, contained an angry sigh when she saw you extend your hand to the boy's bicep to give it a squeeze, taking the opportunity to get a little closer to him.

"I hope to repeat last night sometime" you muttered ignoring his question "I really had fun"

"Me too," he said, faster than you'd expect, and you smirked to notice that she was right next to him, her jaw clenching angrily. Without Reid realizing it, that talk could be completely interpreted as you've had a sexual affair, and not only that, but you were looking forward to it again.

"I'll see you around, right?"

"I think so" he replied. Spencer took a sip of the coffee you bought him, as if he'd just remembered it, and took a moment to savor it, closing his eyes in the process. You tried not to be distracted by the afterimage of him licking his lips. "I love it, what's with it?"

“Huh-uh, I won't tell you. If you want to drink it, you will have to ask me” you replied playfully. You thought that perhaps, at some point, he would become uncomfortable with your indiscreet flirtations, but when he smiled at you and looked away, you knew he was actually liking it. And if Spencer liked being fawned over, you weren't going to put up a fight.

"Thank you"

"It's nothing, doctor. Good luck on your day" you said goodbye, showing him the most beautiful smile you were capable of manifesting.

After that you made sure to look Victoria square in the eye as you left, confident that if she tried to say something rude to the profiler again you would confront her yourself and finally got lost. She looked at him, utterly offended, and then did the same, leaving behind the cup of coffee she was preparing to lock herself in the office and be grumpy all day. But Spencer didn't even notice any of it, as he was too busy looking closely at his heart in his cup to get any idea of what it might mean.

[answrs]

PLEASE send in actual feedback to staff!

once again begging people to realize staff don't give one single iota of a shit about you reblogging a complaint post then immediately installing an add-on and "going back to normal" like nothing happened, you need to ACTUALLY SUBMIT A FEEDBACK TICKET (or more than one) for them to even lodge that anyone cares about them fucking over basic accessibility by removing icons or screwing artists out of credit on their own posts!

no one looks at the @'s for official accounts. they get pinged like five million times a day stop @ing staff and expecting it to do anything and actually go submit a ticket because otherwise they can just go "well no one complained that we removed avatars from posts so we're keeping it uwu go screw yourself"

it literally takes like twenty seconds. click feedback in the dropdown and either write your own couple lines or just copy paste the message I've written below idfc. ANYTHING is better than doing the equivalent of literally nothing!

the removal of icons from posts makes it impossible to tell who friends or mutuals are to those with reading disabilities, and it's aggressively anti-accessible. please revert this change! the text blends together instead of feeling like separate posts and is extremely distressing because it feels like you've been forcibly booted from the friendship and community that tumblr has fostered for over a decade. not only is this change inaccessible for many disabled persons, it is actively ANTI-accessible and is both extremely alarming and distressing to see even *get* to this stage of testing!

PLEASE. PLEASE SUBMIT FEEDBACK AND DON'T LET THEM SKATE BY BECAUSE "NO ONE CARES" ABOUT THIS

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Hey there sex witch! This one might be a little bit out of your wheelhouse, but I don't really have anyone else to ask 😅 and this seems mostly relevant to what you talk about.

So recently I (a very shy person for a long time) have gotten pretty active in some fandom discord communities, and I've been making a ton of friends. Which is great because I used to have social anxiety to the point where I could barely talk to people, especially online. The problem is that my new friends are all VERY horny, all the time. Which, great for them, I don't really feel the same way. They're also very interested in ERP and other varieties of e-sex and often ask if I want to join. I really don't, but it's fine that they're into that. One guy in particular is really starting to freak me out though. He's a semi-popular creator and a mod on one of the servers. He's becoming a pretty good friend of mine and I play online games with him and others a bunch. He, like the rest of the crowd, is also very horny all the time. He often makes sexual comments about me, sometimes very graphic ones. Stuff like telling me to take my clothes off IRL while on call with him or saying stuff like "I want to fuck you until you cry" or just dming me asking if I want to have sex with him. Sometimes he notices that his comments make me uncomfortable and he did reach out to sincerely apologize for it once, but he hasn't changed his behavior a whole lot.

The big thing that worries me about him is the fact that he's 28. I'm 18, just graduated high school. He knows this about me. He does a very good job of keeping his server 18+ and would never make a sexual comment about a minor, but is still comfortable doing sexual things with people ten years younger than him. Another thing is that even though I've told him I already have a boyfriend, he assumes I'm in an open relationship even though I never told him I was. My boyfriend also says this guy kinda freaks him out and that he's a little worried about me.

I know that age gaps between older people can be perfectly healthy and problems arising from them vary pretty heavily from person to person, but I'm not entirely sure if this is ok or not. This guy doesn't want to hurt anyone. Have I probably just not properly expressed my boundaries with him? It's not like he's targeting me or anything, he acts this way with basically everyone. I'm torn on what to do, he's still my friend and I like him otherwise. Should I just keep laughing it off? I am uncomfortable but I guess it's not a huge deal to me. Should I stop talking to this guy?? Help??

🐟🐟 So I can find this quickly if/when you answer it

hi 🐟🐟,

this guy fucking sucks and needs to be banned from interacting with maybe anyone until he learns what "no" means. literally every individual thing you've described him doing would be alarming in it's own, but altogether this man is a walking collection of red flags. this is not your friend and this is not a guy who cares about your boundaries or well-being; this is a man using his fandom clout to sexually harass you (and likely others). him being ten years older than you isn't even really the biggest issue here; all of this would be shithead behavior even if you were exactly the same age.

get out of there, double fish.

[xesiarah]

“˚₊‧ UNLUCKY ENCOUNTER ‧₊˚ ”

Yan!Loser oc x Reader

Synopsis — some call it a coincidence, some say it's fate, but I say it's absolute utter fucking, bullshit.

—

—

"I'm sorry."

The other line hangs up, the irrational telephone beep ringing against your ear as you genuinely start feeling the symptoms of hysteria bubbling up your chest and clamming up your breathing. At this point you definitely wouldn't say no to a fucking lobotomy.

This week has been feeling like the universe is actively trying to kill you off, like as if already getting coffee spilled on you wasn't bad enough; You, in this modern age and time having to use the telephone because your phone was snatched, along with your favorite handbag, containing the newly expensive perfume you brought still half full, and then just now your partner of 2 years breaks up with you after you asked them for help because you tripped on a rock, resulting on a sprained ankle and having to distressingly limp all the way to the phone booth.

Coincidence? Yeah, I think not. Just before this hell week was 3 days after your best friend ditched you for her new boyfriend, 4 days after you fucked up an important exam, and A WEEK after you befriended that jackass freak at school. Losing a few people here and there was to be expected but, c'mon! Isn't this just a new form of torture? You're sure that he was the one that caused all this, who else is to blame!? Maybe the rumor that said he must have all that hair to hide the dent he got when he was dropped as a baby was true, I mean. He probably performed some dark sorcery on you for whatever reason.. or maybe he's a sick masochist that fucks over people who don't treat him like an accused witch during the Salem Witch Trials. — Seriously, it was as if the universe's will to make that mfs life a living hell has rubbed off on you. But you know what, yeah.. It's fine, you can live with this.

Or not. Your alarm blaring for you to awaken gladly disturbs your nightmarish slumber, this is the 3rd time. The THIRD TIME! You've dreamt about him. — of that freak that brought you to your misery, who knows, what if dreaming about him more then once was some sort of bad omen? The 3rd time being on the first day of the week nonetheless. Of course the birds are extra chirper, you thought that maybe they're basking on your torment, if they were, you hope stray bullets manages to shoot all of them dead because we aren't having that kind of bullshit today. — You have finally devised a plan to avoid Satan's reincarnate for the rest of the school year as if they were carrying a covid variant. Finally getting that horrendous goblin off your back would feel like it's the second coming of Christ, and you're not about to let any twinks get in the way of living your life free from any agony inducing minger either.

You manage to find the will to exist. Entering the gates of your school muttering prayers to God, and whatever other deity that’s listening, to please not let you set sights of his probably-smells-like-cheese, greasy ass hair, the overgrown bangs covering ⅔ of his hazel eyes that always seemed to bother you, he even has those weird Incel glasses on.. maybe that one rumor that said he had some sort of eye fungus just makes this all more oddly debatable. You wander through the empty hallways, not seeing a single student kinda unsettles you. — makes sense though, It's pretty early, and you've never seen him around this time so, the coast is clear, for now, or so you thought. — You were approaching the rows of vending machines all pushed up against the back of the building when you caught a glimpse of a silhouette you're all too familiar with, he seems to be sketching something, not that you totally cared for whatever it was. You shrug, but when you were about to turn to leave he gets up and walks towards the boys bathroom, leaving his precious notebook unattended, out in the open, where anyone could take a peak... Just a little peak, alright? You tiptoed, walking towards it in longer strides to minimize your footsteps, upon getting closer, you notice the front page already wide open, as if he purposely left it like that, — that should've been the first red flag. Because inspecting it a little further made your jaw slack, the thing he was sketching.. was you. "What the fuck, I look amazing." You mutter, it's a little creepy but you're flattered with the way he straight up beautified you, admiring it for a little longer then you should've had was a mistake though, because just when you took your eyes off of the notebook, you see him literally lurking and hiding behind the bathroom's entrance. He's wide-eyed, and a huge creepy grin plastered on his face. — Genuinely scaring the flattery out of you and making you bolt straight to the opposite direction on instinct, the way he looked at you literally triggered your flight or fight. The sound of your fast footsteps filled the hallways, your heart going pitter-patter, quite literally about to burst out your chest. Fuck. Just your luck. Guess this won't be an easy day to get through.

Morning lectures are finally over. Which means you can finally celebrate the fact that you pushed through and made it to lunchtime! It was still agonizing nonetheless, waiting around corners to let him pass kind of felt like you're stalking him, can't say that you didn't get any weird looks either. The worse part was definitely him searching and skimming through the halls, asking everyone for your whereabouts, half of them made themselves look busy so he wouldn't approach them, and the other half straight up ran the opposite direction as if he threatened to bite their toes or something. Weirdly enough, most of them ended up slipping on wet floor, which just further gives in to your suspicion of him practicing dark sorcery. Anyways, you're proud of the little progress you made, and that's all that matters for now.

—

—

Lucian sits alone, his table is tucked away in the very corners of the cafeteria, no one even daring to glance at his direction, he used to typically eat in the bathrooms but nobody wants him in their presence to the point that they all stand up and leave when he approaches a table. — there's just this weird air surrounding the dude that automatically repels people away, and no it's not body oder dammit! He just gets greasy fast, and probably for threatening to unalive a teacher but that isn't important! The love of his life is avoiding him! He chews on his fingernails as he ponders, possible reasons fill his head, and they aren't very good ones. — Did someone make you do this? Is there someone else...? That surely can't be. That's just cheating isn't it? You love him after all! He saw the glint in your eyes when you looked at the portrait he drew of you. He could even show you his shrine! Made just for you, containing such precious things you lost! — His excessive chewing of his fingernails grow desperate to the point of drawing blood, he grimaces at the sight of crimson streaks, wiping it on the sleeves of his hoodie. — it just can't be. Why would you do him wrongly like this? You smiled at him, you laughed with him instead of AT him, you sat together.. So why!? Are you gonna leave him like his mother did..? Was that all a joke to you..? He just couldn't accept this, you aren't that kind of person! You know what, he finally snaps. he just has to hear an answer from you. — "He's right behind me, isn't he?" The person right Infront of you nods, and immediately scurries away. At this point you're frozen in place, what the fuck do you do? Just make a run for it? "Can we please talk..?" He speaks behind you, his hand is on your shoulder. You swallow, the remaining bits of your conscience crumbling as you fucking make a run for it, aggressive footsteps follow behind and you realize HE'S CHASING AFTER YOU. You have never let out such a gut wrenching scream than what you just did in this exact moment. — You hide behind a wall, thinking you've lost him. Not until a hand grabs onto your arm.

—

—

He caught you. He has you pinned against the wall, not in a shoujo cutsy romantic way, he looks as if he's a starved vampire about to chomp on your neck, and not in a good way. Just no fucking way this scrawny mf outran you. Another 'unfortunately' for you too, the Gods did not answer your prayers. You're trapped in between the arms of the man you swore to avoid like the plague for the rest of the school year, this was definitely not on your 2024 bingo list. You didn't even last till' the end of the day and that lowkey hurts your pride. — But holy smokes, they say that you experience something new everyday, and this is the first time you've seen him up close, messy bedroom hair, teary eyes that looked like he hasn't slept since the first star wars movie came out. Wowza. If he actually made an effort, or if he didn't have such unsettling vibes, you can't lie, he'd be a revelation hottie. — ... Shit. Not the time to be thinking about his potential glow up. — Poor guy, watching him trying to maintain eye contact but just failing horribly is kinda cute.

......

......

......

The fuck? Your face scrunches up just after you snap back out of, whatever that was. Seriously.. say WHAT now? That was a demon possession right there, you need to stop acting as if his existence didn't just cause your downfall unprovoked. "You're avoiding me.." His voice disrupts the silent war you were having with yourself. It sounded meek, he genuinely looked like a shivering wet dog, with those.. tears boiling up his eyes, and.. quivering lips. Fuck. What if you'd just slide down his arms and escape? Hell no, if someone walked in they'd think you were giving him a blowjob and that's honestly worse then whatever's going on right now. "A-Answer me!" He yells(?) hesitantly, the dude genuinely looks like he's about to burst into tears any minute, you're surprised how he somehow grew the balls to yell at you though. "Okay, dude I'm sorry..?" — It's sad how he goes ballistic over a 'friendship' that lasted a week, but he did show you the list of student names he wanted to glock, and you listened to some of his nerdy ramblings, so you guess he did cherish your short time together even if you gave him absolutely zero fucks. — he goes completely quiet for a minute before he finally bursts out crying, fat tears are running through his acne filled face as he drops to the ground. "I really just wanted a someone-" He says in-between hiccups, he's crying as if you killed his mom or something. You decided to just wait it out until he grew tired but his wails started growing louder till' you were forced to crouch down and comfort him. "H-hey, uhm.." Fuck. Screw it. You know what, Who cares if your life starts crashing down, it already was unsalvageable from the very beginning anyway. Everyone needs a friend and you're too nice for this. You finally give in, breathing in a sigh of defeat. "How can I fix this?" His cries shimmer down and you swear to fucking God you think you just saw him flash a smirk. This bitch looks like he's bout to spit out the most outta pocket bullshit. — and he indeed did not disappoint. The two unexpected words coming out of his mouth just further inspires you to jump off a bridge. "d-date.. me."

......

......

......

Maybe hiring a hitman on yourself wouldn't be so bad.

[iamnmbr3]

When Harry witnesses Draco being forced to torture Rowle, he is extremely upset. Much more so than he typically is about these visions. There are a lot of very drarry implications. Let's break it down.

"Malfoy’s gaunt, petrified face seemed branded on the inside of his eyes. Harry felt sickened by what he had seen, by the use to which Draco was now being put by Voldemort.”

Notable points from this passage:

1) Harry understands Draco so well that he immediately takes for granted that he doesn't want to be using the Cruciatus curse. It never even crosses his mind to take this as evidence that Draco is now a willing torturer who enjoys cruelty or that he deserves to be in this situation for having chosen the wrong side and for his role in Dumbledore's death.

Nor does Harry think Draco is just scared and upset because he's afraid Voldemort might lash out at him too - which is what Harry would think if he saw any other Death Eater acting afraid around Voldemort. He clearly sees that Draco is horrified by the acts he is being forced to commit. And he also completely accepts that it is Voldemort forcing Draco to commit these acts, thus absolving Draco of responsibility.

2) Harry is DEEPLY upset by seeing Draco in this position. More upset than he ever is about seeing any other Death Eater being terrorized or hurt by Voldemort (Harry doesn't even spare one thought for Rowle for example!) Not only that. He's also more upset than he is about seeing Ollivander tortured. Or about seeing Voldemort murder a woman and her children later on while searching for information about Gregorovitch. He finds those visions alarming but he shakes them off pretty quickly.

The only comparable strong reactions are how he responds to his visions of Arthur Weasley and Sirius in book 5 - i.e. visions of people he knows and cares about in danger and suffering. And it's not even the scene as a whole that upsets him. It's specifically Draco - whose frightened face seems "branded" on the inside of Harry's eyes. Harry can't get the vision out of his head, feels sickened, and fights to keep his voice casual afterward. Even though Draco wasn't even actively being hurt.

So canonically Draco matters to Harry in a way that almost all other people don't. It's not generic nobility that gives Harry sympathy even for an enemy - because he doesn't feel this way about other Death Eaters. And it's not general pity that Harry would feel for any innocent hurt by Voldemort - because he doesn't feel that way about victims like Ollivander or the children Voldemort killed. It's the type of reaction Harry ONLY has to people he deeply cares about suffering or being in danger. Harry may not think of it that way on an intellectual level. But his heart knows it even if his brain doesn't. He cares about Draco Malfoy. A lot. He cares about him more than he cares about almost anyone else.

3) Also notable. Harry starts out referring to him as Malfoy but then switches to thinking of him as Draco as he starts worrying about him. (Yes. The drarry trope of Harry switching from "Malfoy" to "Draco" literally happens. IN CANON.) And he keeps thinking of him as Draco after that point. The next time Draco is referred to is during the whole sequence where the Golden Trio are prisoners at the Manor. Harry refers to Lucius by his full name multiple times, but consistently refers to Draco as "Draco" rather than "Malfoy" in his internal narration.

4) (Also the fact that Draco's face is described as "gaunt" hits me right in the feels. It seems that he's in worse shape even than he was when Harry last saw him at the end of 6th year. Sad but not surprising given the guilt that is probably eating at him over his role in Dumbledore's death, what he is now being forced to do as a Death Eater, and the very tangible dangers and suffering that come with being out of favor with Voldemort while having him in your house.)

Tldr: I don't need my ships to be canon but drarry is. jkr who? ;)

[thewidowsledger]

Secret Behind Our Dreams

Chapter 10: Everything's Personal | 2.4k

© thewidowsledger 2024 - DO NOT REPUBLISH AND PLAGIARISE

Summary: You are a club dancer; a stripper. Natasha is a respected notorious mob boss. What would happen if your paths happened to cross one night? The only thing you knew about each other was your dreams, and neither of you knew what the other was.

Pairing: Mob Boss Natasha Romanoff x Stripper Female Reader

Tags | Warnings: 18+, bad writing, slow burn, angst, details of drugging, mean Yelena

Author's Note: This is my first time posting again after a year of abandoning this fic. I promise to post every week and expect 4 to 6 more chapters for this series, happy reading everyone!

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"I took a urine sample, you're right about drink spiking," he confirmed, his voice carrying a hint of concern. This isn't new to him or something of a big problem, but Strange felt that there is more to this situation and he couldn't help but to feel slightly alarmed.

"Yeah, I found her almost unconscious in the club," Natasha sighed, her eyes never settling, "What drug? Maybe I could identify the dealer or even the manufacturer, is it a party drug? M&M? Eccy? Something illegal here or no—"

Strange interrupted her gently, "Rohypnol, it's illegal for medical use." Strange crossed his arms and gave Natasha a concerned look, "In my line of work if I have my license it's called Flunitrazepam but in your world, well…our without license, it is known as a date-rape drug."

"What?" Natasha's jaw tensed as she absorbed the information. “Well I found her in a bar, these drugs can be commonly found in clubs so it makes total sense.”

Stephen Strange, known for his extraordinary medical skills, had earned a reputation not only among the general public but also among certain secretive circles. While he mostly focused on healing and saving lives, he had occasionally and secretly found himself providing medical assistance to individuals involved in criminal activities, including members in darker organized crime syndicates.

"I was shock she remembers a tiny bits of what happened to her, people who gets drugged by roach doesn't remember anything at all. She remembered mostly herself getting dragged and being thrown in a dark room," Strange then finally sat on the couch of Natasha's office, "She also remembers her shoulder burning like hell. And about that, I already cleaned and applied dressing on it. You should've brought her to me earlier. It's a 3rd degree burn, she could've gotten infections from and if she did I might have to perform wound debridement on her."

"I-I never saw it, Yelena did. She was the one who told me." Natasha slightly moved in her office chair, not comfortable as she shared the information.

"Family reunion, I see." Strange cocked his brow and once again took a glance at her.

Natasha huffed, "I'm way past that." She finally stood and made her way to a small corner of her office where she kept a personal stash of beverages. She poured a small amount into a glass, "I know you're a doctor and it's so early in the morning but care for a drink?" She slid the glass on her desk and gestured Strange to sit in the chair across her office chair.

"What's on her skin, the mark…it is something." He finally stood and grabbed the glass of whiskey before settling himself in front of Natasha. "Have you identified it yet?"

"No."

"You know you're in—"

Knowing what he was going to say, Natasha replied instinctively and immediately not allowing him to finish. "You don't need to remind me that, Stephen."

"You should know what you're going into, Natalia." Strange said, now they're both playing the game of using their real name, a gesture that reflected the seriousness of conversation. The air in the room seemed to grow heavier as they exchanged sharp glances.

"And I do." Natasha held her gaze on him, masking her frustration growing. "I always do, Stephen."

Strange sighed, his eyes never leaving Natasha's. He leaned forward to her, "This…" he circled the glass he's holding onto the table, "Whatever this is you're entering, it's dangerous and the stakes are higher than ever. I know you've faced countless situations before, but this…this is different. This is personal." He warned, he then reclined in his seat, both of his elbows were positioned at the chair's armrest. "You have to be careful, Natalia."

"Everything's personal, Stephen." She didn't flinch under Strange's cautionary words. There are only a few things Natasha resents: Being reminded of her vulnerabilities, being told of the things she's supposed to do and not to do, and on the top of her list, men. Natasha just nodded acknowledging Strange's concern.

"I'm just looking out for you."

"I know." Natasha replied softly.

"Well I think I'm done here, if something happened you know where to find me," he paused and finished his drink. "Well I do know where to find you too."

Natasha chuckled and apologized, "I'm sorry for making you go here without notice." But Strange waved it off, "I'll walk you out, Stephen."

As they both reached the door, they were surprised to find Yelena lounging on the couch.

"Family reunion, I see." Strange teasingly muttered against his breath. And his comment didn't go unnoticed by Natasha, who tried to maintain her composure despite her growing frustration for her sister once again.

"Hey, Doc." Yelena greeted lazily.

"Hi." He glanced at Natasha, noticing her stifled groans and huffs. "Don't kill her, I don't wanna overstay here." Strange jokes as he quickly puts on his suit.

"I'll try not to."

He couldn't help but chuckle at her response, he immediately shifted the topic not wanting to frustrate her more. "Clean and change the bandages every 4 hours, I already gave her some antibiotics and a pack of fine mesh gauze. It'll heal probably in 2 weeks or so."

As soon as the elevator closed, she quickly marched to the living room. "What the hell are you doing here?!"

"I said I will come in here whether you like it or not." Yelena replied groggily as she shifted herself in a more comfortable position on the couch.

Natasha immediately grabbed Yelena's tank top by the neck. Natasha glared angrily at her sister before focusing on the jacket she was donning. "Is that my jacket?" she questioned even more angrily.

"Well you didn't get most of your stuff when you left home." Yelena replied her shoulders slumped trying to move away from Natasha's hold. She raised both of her hands to her ears.

"Still doesn't explain the jacket." Natasha groaned.

"Woah!" Yelena mockingly exclaimed as soon as she saw you peeking, "She still here huh?" She glanced back at her sister. "Hiiiii!" Yelena looked behind Natasha's thighs and greeted you mockingly.

Once more groaning, Natasha roughly pulled her sister deeply in the couch before hesitantly letting go of her. Her piercing glare stopped Yelena from reacting as she was about to whimper in pain over her sister's harshness.

"This girl is always coming to my rescue." Yelena smirked as she muttered to herself. She threw a pillow on her sister's back testing her because she knows that she won't do anything now that you're there.

"You okay?" Natasha asks.

"Yeah, my wound feels so cold though. But yeah, I'm fine physically but not entirely fine…" You awkwardly chuckle as you get frustrated again because the whole situation hasn't dawned on you really.

"I ordered some food, do you eat Italian?" Natasha softly asks and you sheepishly nod, you look at Yelena sitting behind Natasha's standing figure; she gives you an uneasy smile before averting her eyes from you.

Natasha walked past you and went to the kitchen, you immediately followed her leaving Yelena alone in the living room. You sat in one of the chairs of the kitchen table as Natasha set up the food for you. "Here, krasivaya." She muttered under her breath as she handed you a fork and gently placed a plate of pasta in front of you. Of course you heard it, you never missed it.

"What else did you remember the other night?" She asked, "If you don't mind me asking. If you're not comfortable it's totally okay but at some point you have to tell me so I could help you."

"What does that mean?" You finally spoke but awkwardly.

"What?" Natasha blinked, momentarily caught off guard by your question.

"You called me something…I don't understand it." You murmured as you tried to avoid her eyes while you played with the fork in your hand.

"Beautiful." Yelena appeared from behind, Natasha scowled at Yelena who was slowly heading towards the kitchen. "Why?"

"Nothing." Your voice was so small that you were not comfortable with Yelena's presence. You looked down to your plate trying to hide the fear and discomfort forming in your face as you remembered what happened the other night.

Natasha sensed your discomfort as Yelena continued to linger around the room. She shot her sister a glare, hoping she'd take the hint and give some space. Yelena, though mischievous, could be sensitive to such cues when she wanted to be.

Yelena huffed, turning to look at her sister with a sinister smile, "Don't be flattered by it, Natasha calls every girl that."

Natasha's scowl intensified as Yelena continued to intrude on the conversation. She clenched her jaw and shot her sister a stern look once again, but Yelena continued to give her a playful smirk. She inhaled trying to calm herself and remembered Strange's joke-ish reminder not to kill her sister and right now she thinks she couldn't handle the urge not to.

You looked down at your plate, almost slamming your face on it. You felt a sudden jealousy and insecurity swirling in you, you gave her an awkward and sad chuckle. "Well I uhh, uhm t-the Maximoff lady…the Maximoff lady called me that." You managed to say before taking a bite of your pasta.

"Maximoff lady?" Natasha slightly clenched her jaw, she couldn't help but immediately ask.

"Oooh…" Yelena tilted her head as she eyed her sister with a smug in her face, "Wanda... that's interesting." She murmured something that you couldn't quite make out—was it because she spoke in such a feeble voice or was it because she spoke in a different language? "What else did she say to you, huh?"

"Yelena." Natasha warned. And you started to panic, tears welling up in your eyes.

"Or things you let her do to you?" Yelena methodically sifted through the pantry shelves, all aware of your growing unease but she still continued. She put her elbows on the table across you, she looked at you in the eyes and smirked, "I bet you let her fuck you."

"Enough!" Natasha glared at her sister and walked towards her, "Why is she still here Natasha?" Yelena asked angrily.

“I want you to fucking leave Yelena. And don't worry she's not gonna be here anymore because we're moving to the manor. And I want you gone.” Natasha's demand cut through the tense air. She looked at her straight in the eye with anger evident in hers.

Yelena nodded and backed down with a sad smile on her face. “Thank you for telling me that you're moving to that pretty property of yours. A new place to barge in.” She looked again at Natasha, the before sad smile turning into a grin before walking out.

“Sumasshedshaya malen'kaya suchka.” (Crazy little bitch) Natasha whispered to herself before turning to you. You saw her closing her eyes, inhaling as she tried to calm herself.

The tension didn't vanish when you heard the elevator ding, a sign that Yelena is already gone. As the tension thickened in the air, your appetite vanished, your stomach churning with unease. The clinking of cutlery against plates echoed in the silent room.

“The Maximoff twin...the Maximoff lady didn't do anything to…to me.” You broke the silence, but you felt that you just made everything worse. “I just served some drinks to them that night before—”

“You don't need to talk about it if it's not comfortable for you.” Natasha interrupted. Your heart sank. You knew you couldn't avoid asking any longer. "Natasha," your voice wavered slightly as she turned to face you. "Why—why are you doing this? I know we talked about it already but, why? Your sister’s right, why are you doing this?"

Natasha's gaze faltered for a moment, a shadow passing over her features before she quickly masked it with a composed facade. She opened her mouth to respond, but her words seemed to catch in her throat.

“I…” Natasha avoided your innocent gaze, she knows how much it will ruin her looking at those eyes of yours. “We're gonna leave now," She finally said, her tone clipped as she rose from her seat. The abrupt change in topic caught you off guard, leaving your question unanswered and your heart heavy.

Secret Behind Our Dreams: Masterlist